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spookyspecterino · 2 days

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Back to You Again

Tangerine x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Injury, mention of blood, mention of death/fear of death, arguing/bickering, swearing. Serious idiots in love who have a little trouble expressing their feelings and choose the wrong time to do it.

You've been gone a little while. A few months to be specific. Why? Tangerine can only guess, but he's not happy about it.

Requested by @nocturnest. I'm so sorry this took so long. I started it thinking it was going to be short and then 7K words flew out. 😬Anyway, thanks for your request. It's been a long time since I wrote anything seriously and this was really good for me. Hope you enjoy!

“Laser cutter. Three auto-rifles. Two handguns. Three boxes of ammo each.”

Check.

The binoculars are heavy duty, and the metal texture grates your fingers as you pull them up to peer through the lenses into the next building over. A high-rise that had at least 30 floors. All windowed at least, which made this a little easier on you.

“In through the fifth-floor service area. Through the employee hallway to the service elevator.”

A map of the building laid next to you on the gravel roof. It hadn’t been easy to get your hands on it, but it was worth it for a building as secure as this. No security measure had been overlooked by this man and as paranoid as he seemed it went a long way to his credibility.

“In and out through the service elevator. 20 mins tops. Oh, the jammer.”

A handheld device that you’d paid top dollar for. Yes, it has duct tape holding pieces of it together, and the screen was a repurposed old Gameboy front, but it is the best your back-channel dealer could provide.

How did anyone do anything without a handler these days?

The jammer would save you the trouble (if things turned sideways) of dealing with reinforcements. It flickers to life by flipping a switch smoldered to its side. The thing really does look like a piece of garbage. And, despite what the dealer said, the duct tape and flimsy-ness of it

Several frequencies and networks flashed across the screen, all of them belonging to the building you were surveying. Scrolling through, only a few needed to be shut down, too many and it would raise alarms.

Wifi was the last to be turned off and then you would really need to book it inside.

Everything planned out to a T. Entrance and exits mapped. Back-up plans (and back-up plans to those back-up plans) in place. Extra weapons and ammo in case you had to go out guns blazing. This should be no problem.

“Office-penthouse on the top floor. Computer terminal on the desk, west side.”

Get to the computer, get the files, destroy everything. If you happened to kill the son of a bitch, well, that was a bonus.

You sigh and rub your face, trying to work out the stress lines that seemed to make a permanent home between your brows. “Now I just need to stop talking to myself.”

It was an unfortunate habit you’d picked up in the last few months of working alone. Usually, you had… no. This was no time to think of them, or of him. You have to focus. After this is done, you can go back and apologize, even grovel if you have to.

But now is the time for focus.

In the middle of repeating this mantra, one you’ve been repeating for the last month, you happen to look up at the street. Not for any real reason, nothing had drawn your attention. Nothing was amiss in your perfect plan.

Except two very familiar faces walking down the sidewalk.

Lemon and Tangerine.

Clad in their typical attire. Snazzy suits, dress shoes, and ties.

Your stomach does several things. First it flips at the sight of Tangerine as he saunters with his hands in his pockets, then it sinks and twists into painful knots.

“No, no, no!”

They can’t be here! Anywhere but here!

The two walked casually down the sidewalk, as if they were taking a nice midday stroll. No rifles, no car, nothing. Either they were ballsy as hell…or wildly misinformed about this building and the man inside.

Something in you hoped, prayed, they would pass the building. That they were going somewhere else.

They took a sharp turn to cross the street—toward the building entrance—and your breath turned ragged, your blood chilled. At the same time, your mind was churning with practicality, cold and calculated ideas. Some nasty part of you that had gotten you this far in such a dangerous career, that had nestled in you a long time ago and only now resurfaced in the months of being alone.

You could just walk away; they have their job, and they’re professionals. They can handle themselves.

You could go in after and clean up without ever being seen. Easy. The plan you made could still work, Tangerine and Lemon would be a perfect distraction.

But you were already moving. Lega working on their own and putting you into motion. Fingers tapping off the Wi-Fi signal on the jammer while you slung your duffle bag over your shoulder.

This was not the plan, you argued with yourself as you flew down the back stairs. You’ll get yourself killed being this reckless and impulsive. What happened to in and out in 20 mins?

With every point you made the other side of your mind made a counterpoint.

They’re underprepared. They’re misinformed. They don’t have the firepower to walk in the front door, hell, they don’t have enough bullets to make it to the second floor.

“God damn it!” You yelled, taking the stairs down two at a time. Your voice echoed off the walls in the cramped stairwell. The rifles in your duffle bag clattered and banged together.

They’d be killed. Tangerine and Lemon would be killed. You couldn’t let that happen.

. . .

“I say we take a hostage and negotiate our way up.”

“Yeah, sure, Lemon.”

“This guy’s what, a tech billionaire, or something?”

“Probably.”

“Ok, so he’s a nerd. Easy job.”

“Uh-huh.”

Lemon shoots his brother a less than happy look. Tangerine is staring off into space with a slight frown, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he hunches over a little. Which wasn’t new, he’d been doing that a lot lately. A reflection of his dour mood.

Lemon rolls his eyes. “Oh, mate. Come on. We’re on a job.”

Tangerine shrugs, frowning harder. “I’m fuckin’ aware of that, Lemon.”

“Then stop with your sulking! What have I told you?”

“No—” Tangerine waves a hand, “—you don’t need to say it again—”

“Just send her a letter or something. She’d love it.”

Tangerine groans, he’s starting to get a headache now as they near the target building. “As I’ve said before, I attached letters on the flowers I sent.”

Lemon opens his mouth, but Tangerine cuts him off. “And I sent more than one bouquet. For fuck’s sake, her house probably looks like a tropical rainforest by now.”

“What about—”

“I’ve sent her presents. Jewelry. Perfume. A new phone in case hers was broken. Fuckin’ hell I even had her porch repainted.”

“And she didn’t say anything?”

“Nothing.”

Lemon hesitates. “Did you say you’re sorry?”

Now Tangerine was about to lose it. His eye twitched, not that his brother could see it. “Sorry for what? She’s the one that up and disappeared without a word.”

“I still think you should say it. Just to cover your bases.”

“I’m not apologizing. We were all perfect and you know that. She was happy as a clam and if something was wrong, she would have told me.”

“Then why’d she—”

“You’re really getting on my fucking nerves, Lemon.”

They were across the street from the main entrance now. Two glass doors with golden handles reflected the brothers. In sync they both took a sharp turn toward them. Through the glass they didn’t see anyone else in the lobby and there was a long, chest high counter with a clerk along the far back wall.

Neither of them blinked at how empty the lobby was. Their client had said this target was some kind of informant, but that was about it. They’d paid half up front and sent them on their merry way.

Tangerine yanked open the glass door, holding it for Lemon. He was beyond pissed and just wanted this to be over with. Despite his complaints he was still mulling over what his brother said. Should he apologize, even though he had done nothing wrong? He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong, and he had thought back on all the times you’d been with them, working a job or not.

He’d been happy, he thought you were happy too.

The white floor tiles of the lobby were so shiny they could check their reflections in them. The whole place was upstanding and flaunted wealth. On both sides of the spacious lobby were two silver elevators. The clerk, a lady in her mid-thirties, looked up at them as they walked in. She picked up a phone and turned away as she spoke.

It took them 10 seconds to reach the desk, and, in that time, Lemon had pulled out his gun.

He pointed it at her now. “Hang up the phone.”

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. Not the usual response someone has when a gun is pointed at them, but she slowly hangs up.

“Come out from behind the desk, slowly.”

There’s a moment when she does nothing. Then, “No.”

Tangerine blinks, then pulls out his own gun. “Did you really just say no? Listen lady—”

She leans forward over the desk, leering. “Turn around and get the fuck out.”

Lemon shoots into the wall slightly to her left. She doesn’t even flinch at the sound. “I will fucking shoot you. Get out. From behind. The desk.”

She leans back. “Cute gun.”

Tangerine starts to get a sinking feeling. He turns to Lemon, about to say they should take a walk (maybe find a back entrance to this place instead) when the woman pulls out .22 Uzi from somewhere in the desk. They only catch a glimpse of the muzzle before they start shooting wildly and ducking.

Lemon takes a shot to the chest with a grunt. Tangerine hears the bullets whizzing past him and shattering glass.

The desk clerk turns disappearing behind an employee door seamlessly built into the wall.

They crouch down next to the desk. Tangerine’s head pounds, as it usually does when a job gets out of control.

“You alright?” He reloads his gun, watching his brother carefully.

Lemon checks himself over, patting his chest and stomach. “Yeah, all good, the vest caught it. This is fucked what do we do—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish as both elevators open and squads of heavily armored men pour out. They all have automatic rifles and black Kevlar vests.

“Behind the desk!” Tangerine shouts, pulling Lemon up.

They jump over just as the bullets start flying. Glass shatters, wood splinters, tiles crack. It’s utter chaos and Tangerine and Lemon can only sit behind cover.

“I think we might be fucked!” Lemon shouts, checking his gun.

Tangerine grits his teeth, mind racing. “The client didn’t mention this level of security! I’m going to wring their fucking neck!”

“We’re outmatched!”

“No question, Lemon! Thanks for pointing that out!” Tangerine can feel his brother’s rising anxiety as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“What do we do?!”

“We hope to God this is all of them and try our best to make it out of here!”

“You’re saying—”

Tangerine fires blindly from behind the desk. “Yes, we bail on this job and break our client’s fucking legs!”

The onslaught never seems to end. These assholes are top security and they’re trained well. Their shots chip away at the desk piece by piece, Tangerine and Lemon can feel the bullets violently embed themselves in the wood against their backs.

Tangerine glances at the employee door, there’s no handle and no way to pry it open. He figures there’s a remote control that opens it somewhere from behind. He tries to remain calm, think of a way out that isn’t behind at least 10 guys with rifles.

What would you do in this situation? His heart feels like it’s been pierced with a lance as he thinks of you. Obviously, you would never be caught in a situation like this. You were careful, practical, methodical in the way you planned out jobs.

He wished you were here with him.

Instinctually, his hand reaches into his pocket, grabbing his phone. Lemon watches him with something close to sympathy on his face.

Your number is on speed dial. Tangerine presses a button and holds it up to his ear.

It goes straight to voicemail.

The automated answering machine has become very familiar to him these last few months. Were you checking his voicemails? He’d left you enough to fill up your mailbox, he was sure of it.

“Please leave a message after the tone.”

He hopes you can hear him over the sound of gunshots.

“Yeah, look. Lemon and I, we’re in a bit of a pickle. I was really hoping you would answer this time ‘cause we need help. Since you didn’t, I just wanted to say that you’re a real prick for leaving us the way you did. And you haven’t said a single thank you or anything for all the gifts I’ve sent. Poor Lemon has been wondering where you went off to.” He pauses. This wasn’t the way he wanted to start this message, but every other attempt at getting your attention has failed.

“You know how I feel, I’ve made that pretty clear. But right now, I’m just pissed. Nothing has worked, so I’m going to break into your house and wait for you to come home.”

Lemon gives him a startled look, shakes his head from side to side.

Tangerine frowns. “Don’t take that the wrong—Alright, I won’t break into your house, but I will wait on your doorstep. Every day, I’ll be there until I see you.”

Lemon is still frowning, but Tangerine ignores him.

“This is all because…Well, I…” He struggles, throat turning dry and closing around the words he wants to say. Instead of continuing, he hangs up.

Sitting back against the desk he exhales. The gunfire has stopped to an occasional patter here and there.

Lemon runs a hand through his hair. “Bruv, what the fuck was that?”

“A last-ditch effort at getting some backup.”

They fell into silence; the lobby was eerily quiet. They knew the security team was just waiting for them to come out from behind the desk. The air crackled with energy.

Lemon checked his pockets. “I’ve got two clips left, you?”

“One and a half.”

The look they share conveys their doubts, their dread. An unspoken conversation passes between them.

Tangerine puts it in the back of his mind. “I’ll run out first, then you go a few seconds later.”

“No way, we go at the same time.”

He shakes his head but arguing only puts off the inevitable.

“Go to the opposite side of the desk.”

They split, crouching behind opposite corners. There was no way either of them would be able to make it two steps without taking 10 rounds to the chest. The image of you stays in Tangerine’s mind. He just wished he could see you again. Whatever comes next, afterlife or not, he hoped you—or some form of you—would be in it.

Tangerine gives Lemon one last look, finds that his brother is watching him, and gives him a somber nod. He holds his gun up, takes a deep breath, gets ready to run…

He’s out from behind the desk, gritting his teeth and firing in a flash.

He hits one, another to his left falls from Lemon’s bullets. His legs are shaky, he can feel them trembling.

Rifles take aim.

Tangerine opens his mouth to urge Lemon on.

And a grenade goes off.

The loud bang startles him, his ears ring and a second later he’s shrouded in white, smokey fog. Tangerine stops, confused, looking around to try and find Lemon. But a strong hand yanks him and drags him back. He stumbles, scattering empty bullet shells along the ground, and falls onto the tile.

He’s back behind the desk. Lemon falls next to him.

A pair of legs stands between the brothers. Next to them lies a green duffle bag. Empty rifle shells fall to the ground. Tangerine didn’t even realize guns were firing. He followed the legs up in one long sweep of his eyes.

. . .

A million and one things were going through your mind as you fired an automatic rifle at the security team in the lobby. The biggest thing was holding back every fiber of your damn being from screaming at Tangerine and Lemon for being so foolish.

If you had been a breath later, a second too late, these idiots would be laying in a pile of their own blood on the floor. That thought definitely won’t haunt you for a few months.

The other thing you were concentrating on was ignoring the way Tangerine was staring at you right now. He’s not hurt—you kept repeating, over and over again. He’s ok.

The security team was scattering for cover, but finding little, making your job easy as the last of the smoke cleared. They hadn’t been expecting someone to come in from behind and you’d shot a few in the back before throwing the smoke grenade. Only a few were left now.

They seemed to get over their surprise and began firing back, opening the elevators, and using the inside cabins for cover. Keeping the doors open would stop them from being sent back up for more goons to come through. That was good.

You duck down behind the desk. They were still staring at you.

“Yes! Hello!” You stubbornly gritted out while staring into the wood.

Tangerine’s mouth opened and closed many times, but no words came out. That didn’t mean Lemon wasn’t able to say anything.

“Did you get his message?” He was grinning like some kind of fool.

“Message? Which one?”

Was he talking about the hundreds of messages—texts, voicemails, and letters—Tangerine had been sending on a weekly basis? Yes, you’d gotten them. Read every single one. It had been hard enough sleeping normally, after all that you hadn’t been able to sleep at all. The guilt was overwhelming.

Lemon’s eyes dart to his brother. You did the same and regretted it immediately.

Tangerine’s eyes were practically bulging from his head. His mustache twitched.

Oh, he’s pissed.

You quickly look away and clear your throat. “Are you on a job?”

“Yeah, a shit one. We were just trying to bail.”

“Can’t blame you. What happened, bad intel?”

Tangerine’s voice resembled a growl, it grated against your ear, but it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. “Understatement of the century, love.”

Love. Love. Love.

Lemon wipes his forehead. “What’re you doing here?”

“I have my own problems with your target.” You turn to Lemon but feel Tangerine’s eyes burning a hole in your back. “I was about to sneak in when I saw you two walking down the street.” You check your gun, then rummage through the duffle bag for another clip.

“A massive coincidence then?” Lemon was holding back a smile, eyes darting to Tangerine occasionally. It was as if they weren’t just about to die only five minutes ago.

“If you two still want to bail, that’s fine with me. I’ll give you a window after taking the rest out. I’m going to push on.”

Tangerine spins you around by the shoulder to face him. “Are you fucking mental?”

You’re very close together. The determination it takes not to just lean in and…

Speaking slow, you’re focusing your words and hoping it gets through to him. “Your target has info on me that could get people hurt and ruin my reputation. I need to wipe his computer.”

For all his credit, Tangerine takes you seriously in that moment, even as he looks like he might commit murder. He looks to Lemon—they do that ‘sibling conversation’ without words that they’re so good at.

“We’ll stick around to help.”

“You sure?”

Something in him ignites. There’s a fire behind his eyes. “Fuck yes, we’re sure.”

He’s giving mixed signals now. Is he angry? Probably. But apparently not angry enough to leave you on a job alone.

“Alright…” You say, slowly backing away.

You search through the duffle bag, cold objects graze your fingers, you can identify them each by touch. The laser cutter has a rubber handle. “Lemon—" You toss it to him. “—Cut a hole in the employee door. Tangerine—” You grab another rifle, placing it into his hands. “—Help me take out the last of the guys.”

He takes the rifle and for a moment your hands touch. You expect him to flinch away, or recoil, but he lingers there for a moment. His golden rings gleam—of course he wore them, he never leaves them behind—and catch your eyes until he takes the gun from you.

Fucking confusing.

It had been months, but the three of you worked together like no time had passed at all. Tangerine falling in sync with you, watching your back. Working in tandem, the few remaining riflemen dropped like flies.

“Doors open!” Lemon shouted tapping you and Tangerine’s shoulder.

The three of you waste no time dashing into the small service hallway. Tangerine grabbed the duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder. You were just about to pick it up, but he gave you a look.

There wasn’t as much polish to this part of the building, the lighting was dimmer, and it lacked the white tiles, replaced by a steely gray metal flooring instead. The hallway was long and narrow, its walls matched the floor in color.

“This should lead to an employee elevator. That will take us to the top office.” You panted, oddly exhilarated.

Lemon was looking down the hallway as he crouched. “Watch out for the desk clerk, she went this way.”

“Still can’t believe you both just walked in the front door…”

“We don’t all have your sense of planning, darling.” Tangerine huffed, hiking the bag higher on his shoulder.

“Did you have any sense of planning?”

“Lemon had a plan.”

You turn halfway back to face him. “You—Tangerine!”

He fixes you with an odd look. “What?”

“Lemon doesn’t even read the briefs! And you let him make the plan?” You shoot an apologetic look to Lemon. “No offense, you’re really great in every other area.”

He gives you a half smile. “I appreciate that.”

Tangerine grinds his teeth. “In my defense, the intel in the brief was already bad.” He steps closer, into your personal space. “And you always come up with the plans.”

You don’t shy away from him, in fact, you inch closer. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to make them, but you should know better—”

Lemon sighs, long and loud. “Can you two please focus? We’re in the middle of a dangerous situation here.”

It took a moment for you and Tangerine to resume, the closeness was intimate. Electricity crackles in the air between you.

You both say ‘Fine’ at the same time, like stubborn teenagers. The tension hadn’t settled one bit.

If Tangerine needed to be ignored for the remainder of this mission, then ok. That’s fine. No problem. That doesn’t bother you one bit. Nope.

The three of you empty the duffle bag of its contents, splitting the ammo and giving Lemon the pump action shotgun. That shotgun was your Hail Mary in case shit hit the fan—which, by your definition, it had.

You three were your own personal attack squad now, armed to the teeth.

The employee lift was at the end of the twisting hallway, metallic doors shining like a beacon. The panel to call it only had the arrow pointing up, a one-way lift. You’d poured over the maps late into the night leading up to your personal mission, often with a glass of wine, and it had struck you as odd that it only offered a one way up.

You jab at the button, and the little golden light is stark against the greys around it. Tangerine stands just behind you; you can hear his breath over your shoulder.

“Why’s it only one way?” he asks, hushed and tense.

“I asked the same question.” You responded turning a little to look at him. “I thought it might be security measures.”

“Doesn’t really make sense though, does it? It lets people like us up.” Tangerine zeroes in on your frown. “What is it?”

“There might be internal controls from the top office. This guy doesn’t fuck around with security.”

“Who is this guy anyway?” Lemon sniffs, casting a look back down the hallway.

“An asshole that likes snooping into people’s personal business.”

The brothers trade looks.

“He also works in satellite tech, undercover ops, information gathering.”

There’s a gentle bump into your shoulder. “He’s been snooping into your business, has he?”

How long is this elevator going to take?

“He has.”

“Did he try to blackmail you?”

“Yes.”

“What did he find?”

The elevator dings and the sleek metal doors slide open. The inside is full of ominous red and gold hues. The luxuriousness of it gives you the impression that the boss of the building takes it regularly.

Instead of answering, you step inside and forcefully hit the button for the top floor. Tangerine watches you carefully, studying you. Somehow, he looks like a kicked puppy, yet holding the rifle he takes on a much more sinister tone. He still looks dashing as hell in his suit though. You can see the little gold chain of his necklace around his broad neck.

Focus, focus, focus!

His mustache twitches a bit as he catches you staring. And to top that off, he stands in front of you, very closely in front. Either trying to shield you or irritate you. Possibly both.

He’s wearing the cologne you got him as a present almost a year ago.

“If there’s in house security for this lift, we should be prepared.” You shift a little to see Lemon over Tangerine’s shoulder.

“What do you suggest?”

“They know we’re coming, so we have to be fast. Their access to elevators has been blocked. All remaining security teams will need to take the stairs. This elevator opens to another employee hallway that we’ll have to exit in order to reach the office. That’s assuming—”

The elevator stutters, something above you screeches in the elevator shaft, and the panel lights flicker. All three of you stumble as it comes to an abrupt stop and the dim emergency lights switch on. They coat the interior in a faint red light, turning it into a nightmare scenario.

You groan. “That’s assuming they don’t just turn the elevator off. Fuck.”

Lemon places the shotgun on the floor and motions to Tangerine. Together they pry the paneling off to reveal the switchboard underneath. Lemon fusses with the wiring, using a knife to cut through some and connect it to others.

Sparks fly, flashing in the dim light. Your anxiety ramps. Trapped in an elevator was not on your list of things you wanted to deal with today.

While Lemon fussed with wires, Tangerine turned back to you. “Relax.”

“Excuse me?”

“Try to stay calm, we’ll be out in a second or two.”

Your blood boiled hot. “Don’t tell me to be calm.”

Tangerine smiles at you. “I know you hate elevators.”

“They’re fine, I just particularly hate being trapped in them.”

“Just relax, I’ve got you.”

“That doesn’t help at all!”

More sparks and flickering lights and the elevator doors open an inch. Tangerine has the audacity to smirk in that moment and he touches your chin briefly. His eyes gleam in the dim light.

If you all lived, you were going to kill him.

The twins work wordlessly to pry the elevator doors open. It takes a tremendous effort and both of them are sweaty and breathing hard at the end, but there’s enough space for a person to climb through. Except, you’re going to have to jump down into the office below. Half the elevator is blocked.

“Well, good news is…” Lemon says, scratching his head, “we can get out. And if the elevator can only fall downward.”

“The elevator only goes up, Lemon.” You choke out.

“Oh. Right…well, best get a move on then.”

“I’ll go first.” Tangerine volunteers.

On instinct you reach for him. He sees the slight movement before you hold yourself back.

As if it was easy, he’s crouching down, squeezing through the doors, and jumping into the office below. All with his gun in his hand. Meanwhile, your heart is doing summersaults in your throat.

He holds his hands up, beckoning you. “Come on. You’ve done harder things than this.”

You force yourself to move, crouching down and inching toward the opening. You toss him your rifle. “Like when?”

“Like when you jumped between rooftops in Venezuela.”

“I wasn’t thinking when I did that! And in hindsight, it was fucking stupid of me.”

He laughs. “I’ve got you. Come on.”

You squeeze through the doors, imagining the elevator crashing down, the doors snapping shut, something—anything drastic, and then throw yourself at Tangerine. He catches you with practiced ease and holds you close to him.

He says something you don’t catch over the sound of your trembling breaths. There’s a pat on your shoulder, Lemon is out.

Regaining yourself, you move away from Tangerine and straighten your clothes. His brow furrows, mustache tilts down. Maybe it was your imagination, but did his fingers grip your clothes? A silent plea for you to stay?

You do your best to ignore it. “Let’s go. Did anyone catch what floor we stopped on?”

“37th.” Lemon says, handing over your gun.

“Two floors short.”

“You think they’re waiting for us?”

“I’d bet money on it. Be careful, both of you. I don’t want to see any heroics.”

Tangerine’s eyes follow you as you move to the front and lead them through the hallway at a jogging pace. The single door at the end is much like the one you entered on the first-floor lobby. There’s a control panel for it to the side. As you run up to it, you press your ear to the other side.

No noise.

Your hand hovers over the button. With one last look behind you at the twins you give them a nod, then press it. The door clicks open a fraction, and everything goes to shit.

They were waiting for you on the other side of the door and the gunfire started up immediately. Your vision was blocked immediately, and you were pushed and tugged out by a strong hand—the world was a blur of loud shots, ringing ears, and scrambling. Grey cubicles shoulder-height tall were set up along the floor, which made spotting the enemy incredibly hard. All the fighting was done in the tight walkways between the office spaces.

Your shirt had blood on it, but you had no bullet wounds. Tangerine sat beside you, holding an arm. He’d been shot in his right arm.

“I said no heroics!” You practically shrieked.

Lemon was firing between cubicles, and from the sound of it, he was holding his own.

“What was I supposed to do, love?” Tangerine pants through the pain.

“You’re supposed to let me handle it!” You’re shouting as you pull out some gauze. The bullet went straight through his upper arm. He’d need stitches but, overall, he would be ok. You poke and prod gently as he hisses with each touch.

His teeth are gritted as he grunts out, “You wanted to get shot?”

“I’d take a bullet for you, happily. You know that.”

“I feel the same way, which is what I was doing.”

“I still don’t want you to!”

“I don’t want you to, either!”

Something bounces off your back. It’s a stapler. Both you and Tangerine stare at it for a moment, confused.

“Oi! You two! Get over yourselves and actually talk about your feelings for once!”

You whip around to stare daggers at Lemon. “Did you just throw a stapler at me?!”

He’s taking cover behind a grey cubicle not too far away. “Yeah, I did! I’m sick of you two avoiding an actual conversation. Talk—it—out!”

Tangerine sits up, pushing against your hands on his chest in your weak attempt to keep him down. “You’ve lost your mind, mate!”

“Thomas would say to express your feelings, that bottling them up is bad for you! So, express them!”

“Is it really necessary—” You pick up your rifle and fire blindly down the walkway, “—to do this now? We’re a little busy!”

“It’s now or never, I know you two! Once all this stops, you’ll avoid it!”

Tangerine looks perplexed, like he’s really considering it, and you try not to look at him again. “Fuck this job!” You shout, before rolling into the walkway and opening fire.

The two or three men that hadn’t been behind cover are caught by surprise and the bullets chew through the walls of the cubicles. A deadly silence permeates the office floor, only the ringing in your ears remains.

Another shot rings out and you feel like your shoulder’s been ripped from the socket.

You’re thrown back onto the ground. It must have been a heavy round, your left arm is completely numb, do you even have an arm left?

There’s shouting and more gunshots, the grey office walls and floor merge into one as the room spins. You’re getting pulled off the ground, someone is prodding your arm. Absentmindedly, you swat at whoever is doing it.

“Listen, hey, open your eyes!”

Tangerine…

You obey. He’s inches in front of your face, brows furrowed, a vein in his forehead sticks out.

“I’m fine.” You cough out. “Just fell down, is all.”

“You’ve been shot!”

“Oh.”

He struggles, he looks like he has more to say, but stays silent. You swat at Lemon who’s wrapping your arm—or shoulder, more accurately. “I’m fine, let’s keep going.”

“You’re not fine.” Lemon grunts, pushing your hand away. “It was a .308 round. You’ll be lucky if you have any bones left in your shoulder.”

“Why’d you do that?!” Tangerine is shouting, running his hand through his hair. You both match now, he’s bandaged up on his left arm too.

“Do what?” You ask through gritted teeth as Lemon tightens the bandage.

“Run out like an absolute lunatic?”

“I told you I’d take a bullet for you.”

His eyes bug out. “You threw yourself into the line of fire!”

“All in a day’s work. Now, can we get back to it?” You don’t wait for a response, instead pushing yourself to your feet. Your left arm hangs to the side, limp and numb. A dull throb pulses through your side.

Tangerine watches you. “We need to have a serious discussion when this is over, love.”

You huff out a breath, swaying slightly. “Noted.”

The three of you push on in tense silence. Tangerine makes sure you’re behind him while the rest of the floors leading to the main penthouse office are cleared. He’s acting so stubborn, blocking you at every turn, holding you back with a gentle, yet unyielding hand. The vein in his forehead never goes away.

Finally, the double doors leading to the office are before you. Platinum gold, of course, with carved handles. This guy’s style was beginning to get obnoxious.

Lemon kicks open the doors with as much anger and prejudice as you feel (yet can’t muster at the moment). Instead of what you were expecting, the target stands alone behind his desk. He smirks, giving off a Wall Street investor impression with his pressed suit and perfectly cut hair.

He spreads his arms wide. “I really should have known you three would be together for this.”

“Shut up, wanker.” Tangerine shouts, pointing his gun.

The target opens his mouth to say more, but Tangerine doesn’t let him. He empties the clip into the man’s chest.

The target dies with a startled look on his face, falling back over his desk.

You move past Tangerine, fighting his hands that grip at your clothing. “Thank God for that.”

The computer is easily hacked, the files you’re after are on the desktop. Maybe the dead man was looking to bargain—or gloat. You glance at his dead, glazed over eyes.

Bastard.

Tangerine paces, looking at you often. His job is done, the confirmation is sent to the client through Lemon’s phone.

Your files are downloaded onto an encrypted flash drive, and you rip the wiring out of the computer’s back, smashing the server tower. Mission accomplished.

“I guess now that you have what you need, you’ll disappear again.” Tangerine is glaring at you, chewing his lip. His bandage is bloody.

The flood gates open.

“I needed these files!” You shout, worsening the headache you already have.

Tangerine shouts back, taking a step closer. “I would have understood if you had just told me!”

“I couldn’t have told you!”

“Why not?”

“Because—well—I didn’t—It doesn’t matter now!”

“So, you disappear for months, without a word, for something you won’t even tell me about?!”

“I didn’t want to involve you! I wanted to get this done myself!”

“I’m involved now!”

“It was a shitty coincidence you showed up here today, and I’m sorry you got hurt because of this job!”

“I’m not concerned about me!”

“Well, you should be! I care about your safety!”

“And I care about yours!”

In the corner, Lemon shakes his head.

You hold your arm, trying to work some feeling back into it. It throbs and you wish you hadn’t. “I would have come back after this was done.”

“Oh, really?” Tangerine laughs dryly. “How was I to know?”

You groan, throat turning dry. “You’re so impatient! I just needed a little time!”

“You know how often I tried to reach you—?”

“Yes! I heard every message, got every bouquet of flowers—and thank you for my porch, that was really nice.”

Tangerine flounders a little, he still wants to argue, but some of the steam has been let out. “A thank you would have been nice.”

“I’m thanking you now!”

“A whole good that did when I thought you were done with me—” He shoots a look at his brother, “—and Lemon!”

“I’ll say I’m sorry a thousand more times, Tangerine! Is that what you want?”

He turns his back to you, grumbling something.

“I don’t understand why it was such a big deal to you, we’re contractors! We kill people for a living, and you’re freaking out—”

He spins back around. “It’s a big deal because I thought you were hurt.” He stalks closer, you notice his hair has come undone from the neat gel, curls flair out around his neck. “I thought something happened to you!” He’s within arm’s distance now. “It’s a big deal because I love you!”

And then he stops. His eyes go wide, as if he’s just spilled a secret.

Fuck, he did just spill a secret. Maybe you had known, but he’s never said anything. It was always just little guesses here and there, a thought—a feeling—and inclination. Late nights, especially recently, that you spent thinking about it, wondering.

Your mouth falls open in the silence. “I—I…love…” but damned if your mouth just wasn’t getting it out.

Arguing and bickering was so much easier.

But he knows, he can see it in the way your eyes soften, in the way you swallow with a dry throat. In the way your hand reaches to him, and your body leans forward.

“You know…” Lemon says, looking up from his phone, “Most people would kiss at this point. Just a suggestion.”

A quip, a very fitting one, comes to mind and you’re about to tell Lemon just how you’re not normal people, when Tangerine pulls you to him. Your chest presses to his and his lips are on yours in an instant.

Hungry, needy. It’s desperate, an urgent need be close, to be touching. Burning with desire and hot with passion. You give into it.

His mustache scratches at your lips and you pull him into you, threading your fingers through his curly hair, mussing it up even more. His hands grip at your back, pull at your clothes.

Closer. You need to be closer.

Fuck air, the feeling of his lips moving against yours is the only thing you’ll ever need again.

Your arm throbs and the dull pulse shoots up to your chest. You sigh, half in pain and half in pleasure. Unfortunately, Tangerine pulls back. There’s blood on his lips and he looks concerned.

“Wait…” You mumble, trying to pull him back to you. He’s your lifeline now.

“You need a doctor, love.”

“Just a little longer.”

Tangerine chuckles, wrapping an arm around your back. “After you’re patched up. I promise.”

…Bonus…

“You’re going to ‘break into my house and wait for me to come home’?”

Tangerine groans, throwing his head back as you walk into the small office. Private clinics with ‘respectable’ doctors. Gotta love ‘em.

“Love, I didn’t mean it, I was in a life-or-death situation—I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking—”

You give a good-natured laugh, sitting next to him. You’d been patched up first, Tangerine was just waiting for some blood work to come back.

Tangling your fingers in his you give his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m just teasing, Tan. I know.”

“Ok.” He sighs, giving your hand a squeeze back. “Good.”

You ruffle through your pockets to pull out your phone, your arm stings, but the pain medication the doc gave you does wonders. “I thought about it, I think you deserve to know why I was after your target.”

He looks at you with new interest now.

You tilt your screen to show him.

It had pictures of you and Tangerine. Pictures of you sitting together at lunch, laughing. Pictures of you walking down the street together, arm in arm. Pictures of you looking like a couple.

“Oh,” he breathes out, “I see.”

“I was worried you’d be put in danger if these…well, if they got into the wrong hands.”

“Didn’t want our clients to think we were softies either, huh?”

“That too.”

He presses his face into your hair. He hasn’t expressed his feelings for you again, but you’re starting to realize he always had—just through actions instead. A gentle hand on the small of your back. Wrapping an arm around your waist. Leaning down to speak softly into your ear.

These were just as much of an expression as words.

“Will we have to do this every time?” he asks, voice muffled slightly.

“Every time what?”

“It’s only a matter of time before more pictures of us make it into someone’s hands.”

“Oh. That’s a good point.”

He pulls you a little closer. “I’ll be dammed if I have to stop taking you out over that.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to kill whoever tries something like that again.”

“We’ll do it together next time, yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

#Tangerine x Reader #Fem!Reader #Tangerine Bullet Train #Bullet Train

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randomnameless · 3 months

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@zeroabyss replied to your post “@zeroabyss replied to your post “Since I'm...”:

Yes dead. Rhea wouldn’t have given up the chase otherwise, nor is she implied to have dedicated any military force to finding him at any point innthe current days. We know they were eventually called the 10 Elites because Nemesis and the rest pretended Maurice was dead the moment he became a Beast and disappeared, and History likewise remembered it as only ten. Nothing in the game suggests Rhea thought Maurice was still out there, and she absolutely would not have let him live if she knew he was around due to knowing she made sure to hunt down the other ten.

Bear in mind in Nopes Maurice being part of the Elites is documented, and they later became the 10 Elites (rather than 10+1) because of the "curse" associated to that Crest.

The same book suggests Maurice became "unhinged" after a battle in Gronder - so before Tailtean?

Rhea hunting the Elites is, imo, fueled by both vengeance/retribution but also by the wish to recover whatever was left of her siblings - Maurice "slained" a Holy Warrior and was still hoarding Blutgang - Rhea wants to recover relics (it's the reason behind Constance and Yuri's paralogue in FE16 and it's mentionned in Balthus'!).

Imo, even if Maurice died in a ditch, Rhea would have wanted to "recover" the relic.

So, in a way, the hunt for Maurice should have been both a hunt to rekt him - if he was alive - and a hunt to recover what was left of Bob - the Nabatean who became Blutgang.

Now, in the modern times, we know there are rumours and legends about a demonic beast in Mircea's forest, I can't fathom Rhea/the CoS not knowing a thing about it (hell, why weren't they asked to deal with this issue?) so why wasn't she taking care of him?

As Rhea the Archbishop, maybe she mellowed a bit and adopts a more "reaction" approach, if a relic pops up she will acquire it, but she won't send her people look behind every rock and box if there's a relic inside.

But as Seiros the Warrior? The same Seiros who went to war and spent around 100 years to hunt Nemesis? Who continued to hunt the Elites after Nemesis' death? This Seiros would have let Maurice escape or Bob remain in the ditch Maurice died in (if Maurice died)?

I can't see it - unless there is some event that makes her drop the "Warrior" persona and adopt her more passive "Archbishop" persona - which is what this headcanon (lycaon's death) tried to explain :

Seiros the Warrior is so gung-ho on avenging her dead siblings and "recovering" them that she cannot protect the future (Lycaon's supposed golden rule and the happily ever after ending post WoH!) and the present (Lycaon as a person? Especially if he was her kid!), so Archbishop Rhea (and her many names!) will try to oversee the present - if there is a relic around she'll recover it but she won't exclusively focus on it and won't spare attention to Momo when there are people who currently need her help right now (just like relics though, if there is an opportunity or occasion where Archbishop Rhea can face Momo or meet him, he's dead meat) - and the future - her rez Sothis plan.

#zeroabyss #replies #eff Maurice his paralogue throws so many questions unanswered #why is he still alive and the nabateans didn't murdilate him #or even in general if there are rumours about a dangerous beast in Mircea #why wasn't the CoS and its KoS tasked with getting rid of it #3 Nopes #it basically has a book for common use and not a super secret one saying Momo left and loitered in Mircea #maybe it's rumour or something but why no one went to check?#and since those books belong to the CoS in the first place I can't believe Rhea didn't know or heard of it #so why is he still alive in FE16? Did he spend his time running away?#idk #10k years of lore

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tojancy · 11 days

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nanami’s side of the bed wouldn’t even be called nanami’s anymore. you sleep there nearly every day, blaming it on how the pillows smell of him.

nanami’s clothes aren’t his anymore, you're sleeping in his shorts and t-shirt tonight. you wore his shirt yesterday, and took his ties for some clothes experiments last week.

nanami’s sacred pens are no longer his own, he finds them on the table after you tried to scribble up something and forgot to put them back.

nanami’s mugs are now shared, always in the dishwasher even when he doesn’t recall using them at all.

nanami’s thoughts don’t belong just to him anymore. you’d bug him about it all day if he doesn’t share what he’s thinking — so he, with an exasperated sigh, tells you what’s on his mind.

nanami’s salary doesn’t go straight to his savings account like it used to, instead taking a portion of it to spend on you. ‘you’ means gifts, flowers, dates, trips, trinkets, and so on.

nanami’s weekends aren’t as quiet as they once were; now they’re chaotic, full of so much of you.

nanami’s fridge is full nowadays. candy, leftovers, ice cream, cheese, cake, bread, and the list goes on. so many things that don’t go along with his diet fill the once-empty shelves.

nanami doesn’t spend as much time in his study as before you moved in. now old books are left to collect dust, long forgotten in a room that’s never lit. even when he decides to pick one up and read it, it’s the minute that he sees your face the book is tossed away.

nanami’s happiness still comes from days off, but now it’s because those days are spent with you. days when he slept long and ignores the world are long gone, now he gets to sit and focus on you, watching as everything else becomes nothing but background noise.

nanami has always been sure he’s not looking for marriage, at least not right now. but he swears that ring looks so perfect for you. there’s no way he’d miss it.

nanami stands in front of the bathroom mirror 5 minutes late every day because you’re still figuring out how to fix his tie the right way without any help. he can’t seem to rush you, though — what’s being precisely on time have on your little giggles as you sit on the sink and struggle to finish a task he could have done in under a minute?

nanami has been spending so much time eating as of late, more time than he can afford. while he used to finish a meal in approximately fifteen minutes, now dinners could stretch to two hours. he couldn’t get off the table early when you sit across from him, talking and joking and doing anything that’s not eating. he simply can’t possibly not indulge in the little conversations, appreciating every moment he gets to spend in your presence. nanami’s life wouldn’t even be called his anymore. you’re a storm, invading his life all at once, bringing in your chaos along with you. you’ve infatuated him, you’ve assailed his senses and changed his very being. every time nanami’s eyes align with yours, he prays your presence isn’t a fleeting one. he silently hopes you don’t leave as suddenly as you came, that you plan to stay.

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emberwhite · 3 months

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I spent the last 11 months working with my illustrator, Marta, to make the children's book of my dreams. We were able to get every detail just the way I wanted, and I'm very happy with the final result. She is the best person I have ever worked with, and I mean, just look at those colors!

I wanted to tell that story of anyone's who ever felt that they didn't belong anywhere. Whether you are a nerd, autistic, queer, trans, a furry, or some combination of the above, it makes for a sad and difficult life. This isn't just my story. This is our story.

I also want to say the month following the book's launch has been very stressful. I have never done this kind of book before, and I didn't know how to get the word out about it. I do have a small publishing business and a full-time job, so I figured let's put my some money into advertising this time. Indie writers will tell you great success stories they've had using Facebook ads, so I started a page and boosting my posts.

Within a first few days, I got a lot of likes and shares and even a few people who requested the book and left great reviews for me. There were also people memeing on how the boy turns into a delicious venison steak at the end of the book. It was all in good fun, though. It honestly made made laugh. Things were great, so I made more posts and increased spending.

But somehow, someway these new posts ended up on the wrong side of the platform. Soon, we saw claims of how the book was perpetuating mental illness, of how this book goes against all of basic biology and logic, and how the lgbtq agenda was corrupting our kids.

This brought out even more people to support the book, so I just let them at it and enjoyed my time reading comments after work. A few days later, then conversation moved from politics to encouraging bullying, accusing others of abusing children, and a competition to who could post the most cruel image. They were just comments, however, and after all, people were still supporting the book.

But then the trolls started organizing. Over night, I got hit with 3 one-star reviews on Amazon. My heart stopped. If your book ever falls below a certain rating, it can be removed, and blocked, and you can receive a strike on your publishing account. All that hard work was about to be deleted, and it was all my fault for posting it in the wrong place.

I panicked, pulled all my posts, and went into hiding, hoping things would die down. I reported the reviews and so did many others, but here's the thing you might have noticed across platforms like Google and Amazon. There are community guidelines that I referenced in my email, but unless people are doing something highly illegal, things are rarely ever taken down on these massive platforms. So those reviews are still there to this day. Once again, it's my fault, and I should have seen it coming.

Luckily, the harassment stopped, and the book is doing better now, at least in the US. The overall rating is still rickety in Europe, Canada, and Australia, so any reviews there help me out quite a lot. I'm currently looking for a new home to post about the book and talk about everything that went into it. I also love to talk about all things books if you ever want to chat. Maybe I'll post a selfie one day, too. Otherwise, the book is still on Amazon, and the full story and illustrations are on YouTube as well if you want to read it for free.

#books #reading #childrens books #lgbtq #lgbtqia #autism #transgender #furry #therian #art #deer #queer #artists on tumblr #creativity #illustration

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sivyera · 7 months

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TWILIGHT characters as love tropes

ft. carlise, esme, emmet, rosalie, edward, jasper, alice, jacob, seth, leah, paul, charlie, bella

a/n: with songs to each character

༻♛༺

⤷ Carlisle Cullen - rich love

Carlisle is a very rich man which means he will spoil you a lot. Not only with expensive gifts but also with a lot of attention and affection.

Every time when he gets home from work, he welcomes you with a kiss and warm hug.

When he has a day off, he will cook with you (even tho he cannot eat it, it's just about the time he can spend with you) or you will lay on his lap with his hand stroking your hair and book in his other hand, reading to you.

Every Friday he will take you to a fancy restaurant and than for a slow walk around the nearest park.

On your birthday or on International Women's Day (or any other 'special' day) he will spoil you even more than on normal days. Expensive jewelry, perfumes, clothes, shoes,...

He will bring you flowers at least once every two weeks. And every July he will take you on vacation and you can choose where.

Lolita - Lana Del Rey

⤷ Esme Cullen - falling in love fast

Esme is such a kind soul so it's no surprise that you two fell in love with each other fast.

She will take you on a date every Saturday. Mostly coffee dates are her favourite. The two of you can talk for hours while drinking delicious coffee.

She will also enjoy baking with you (even tho she cannot eat/taste them)

She has many polaroids with you on them or with the both of you on them and has them hang in her closet or the small table beside her bed.

She loves when you paint her nails and massage her legs and she will always return the favor.

She loves sunny days but because she's a vampire and her skin sparkle on the sun, she cannot go out where people can see her, BUT she can go somewhere private like meadow or forest where you two can be alone and on the sun!

Sofia - Clairo

⤷ Emmett Cullen - he fell first and harder

Emmett was absolutely over the moon when you two started dating, because he knew from the start that you two are just meant to be.

He loves, loves, LOVES when you sit on his lap. He doesn't care if you are stroking his hair or doing make-up on him, he just want you in his lap, so he can embrace you with his big arms and muscular body.

He'll dance goofily around the bedroom with you to some catchy hip-hop songs he has found.

He loves cuddling with you especially when he can be the big spoon, because he likes how tiny you're compared to him.

Matching pyjamas and make polaroids in those pyjamas, which happens to be one of his favourite memory and polaroids.

He doesn't really like reading books but he always wants you to read to him, because he loves your voice.

She's Kinda Hot - 5 Seconds of Summer

⤷ Rosalie Cullen/Hale - you fell first but she fell harder

Rosalie has trust issues and trauma because of her past so she wouldn't fall in love easily nor fast, but trust me when she does fall in love; she loves hard.

She loves having spa day with you which includes face masks, painting nails, shared warm bath and much more.

She will take you to the mail shopping almost every day and will buy you everything you look at.

She doesn't like much PDA but she will hold your hand in public but if she gets jealous, she will show the person she's jealous off who you belong to.

She doesn't show it to others just you, but she loves cuddles. She loves when you lay next to her, face to face so she can see your beautiful face.

She's also very protective over you, so if any guy or a girl makes you feel uncomfortable (or unsafe), tell her and she will make sure they won't approach you ever again.

Prey - The Neighbourhood

⤷ Edward Cullen - first and only love

Edward waited so many years for you, but it was worth it because he finally got you.

He loves when you kiss his forehead even tho he has to lean down because of your height difference, it makes him feel safe. Still his favourite place to kiss you is on your lips.

Edward will write poets for you and about you on small piece of paper and then put them somewhere in your room where you will notice them like your closet or on your book, laptop, notebook, pillow,...and he will bring you your favorite flowers right after the previous ones he gave you have withered.

He will also write songs about you (or for you) and then play them to you on the piano. Which he absolutely loves because you sit right next to him and look at him with those beautiful eyes of yours full of love. Edward cannot read your mind but he can sure read your eyes, the small spark and the love in them when you look at him, he just loves it!

Loves cuddling with you, his favourite position is when you lay on his chest or when he's the big spoon, face to face or hugging you from behind.

He loves having deep talks with you and he'll tell you about his childhood or about the time he was born in.

Follow You - Imagine Dragons

⤷ Jasper Cullen/Hale - unconditional love

Jasper can be sometimes insecure just as much as Edward, they even have similar reasons... Jasper is afraid of him hurting you, he's afraid that he won't be able to control himself around you, but your words of affirmation and gently touch will calm him down.

Jasper doesn't talk much, he rather listens and he loves listens to you. It doesn't matter what you are talking about, he just loves your voice.

He will take you for a horse ride because he loved it back when he was a human and because he was a cowboy, but you two will have to share the horse because he wants your arms around him.

At first he was a bit scared of cuddling with you (again because of his control) but soon as your hand went to his hair, he melted. Both of you realized how touch starved he's so now cuddling is an everyday thing.

Jasper is a gentleman like Edward or Carlisle so he will also bring you flowers every even week.

He'll read to you to make you fall asleep, because his smooth voice is like a lullaby to you. But if Jasper feels that you are anxious, he will calm you down with his gift and than talk to you what made you anxious, eventually he will cuddle you.

R U Mine? - Artic Monkeys

⤷ Alice Cullen - any universe

Alice (because of her gift) always knew you were the one, her one and only true love. So when she first saw you, she couldn't help but babbling to her adoptive siblings all day how amazing you are and how she's already in love with you.

She'll go to the mail with you and make small fashion show with you in the cabins with all the cute outfits she found for you and you for her.

She's mostly the small spoon (sometimes she is the big spoon but depends on the situation) while cuddling because she loves when you hold her in your arms and stroke her back.

Outside, in front of other people, she will always hold your whole arm, not just palm.

If you have trouble falling asleep, she will gladly sing to you while stroking your hair.

She'll buy matching clothes, jewerly or nail polish, because she loves when you two match your outfits or other accesories.

i wanna be your girlfriend - girl in red

⤷ Jacob Black - whatever it takes

Jacob is willing to do anything and everything for you, his imprint. He will kill for you, he will die for you, he will do just everything.

Jacob can be sometimes insecure because he isn't that rich like the Cullens and he thinks you deserve someone who will treat you like a queen, so once again he's willing to prove you that he's worthy of your love.

He'll make you a small wolf and your favourite flower out of wood and attached it into a bracelet, which he will eventually give you to your birthday.

He's also a big cuddle bug, because he's so warm will make you comfortable enough to fall asleep. He's most of the time the big spoon because he feels like he's protecting you but he doesn't mind to be the little spoon. Cuddling also leaves his scent on you so every vampire or shape-shifter (wolf) can smell who you belong to.

He'll take you on motorcycle rides. Also he will drop you at your school on his motorcycle and then he will pick you up. Also he'll let you ride on his back while he's in his wolf form.

Jacob doesn't like fancy restaurants, he prefers his or your bed with some snacks and movies, cuddling of course!

Galway Girl - Ed Sheeran

⤷ Seth Clearwater - love at first sight

Seth hoped that he will met his imprint someday and he heard from the others how amazing the feeling is to imprint on someone, but no one really prepared him to him because when he first saw you, your beauty hit him like a brick. And he finally understood the feeling because all he could see was you...

Seth will make sure you are always in a good mood with him, either he could tell you some stupid joke or cheesy pick-up line.

He maybe look like a cute baby but don't let his cute face fool you because he won't hesitate to kill for you, so it makes him really protective over you.

In his wolf form he's like a big puppy but only to you and he loves giving you piggy back rides in his wolf form.

Cuddling really depends on his mood; if he's in good mood he will be the little spoon with his head placed on your lap; if he's in a bad mood (mostly when he's jealous) he'll be the big spoon to show others that he can protect you.

He loves baking with you but he's clueless so he will just stand there and watch you or mix some ingredients, often sneaks up a kiss on the cheek while baking.

Dandelions - Ruth B.

⤷ Leah Clearwater - enemies to lovers

At first Leah hated the fact that she actually had a imprint, so she would try to stay away from you as much as possible and when she couldn't; she would have some nasty comments towards you, but it hurt her as hell when she saw how sad she made you or worst insecure.

She tried hard to stay away from you but she failed, miserably. She needed you, she needed to be with you, so she will explain everything to you same as she would apologize for her acting.

Very protective of you, anyone could just try and test her patience.

At first she wouldn't want you to be near her while she was in her wolf form because she was much bigger and stronger so she was afraid that she could hurt you, but she became a sucker for scratches behind her ear.

Seth will often tease his big sister because she's really soft when it comes to you, which makes Leah give Seth few playful slaps.

When it comes to cuddling, Leah is the big spoon because she has the urge to protect you and being the big spoon makes her feel like she's protecting you in you sleep.

Running With The Wolves - AURORA

⤷ Paul Lahote - rough love

With the term 'rough love' i mean that Paul is passionate lover and is willing to do anything for his imprint, you.

Paul isn't very patient when it comes to people but you are an exception. Still he's aggressive when someone push his buttons but you are always here to drag him away and calm him down.

Just a single touch and Paul's full attention is on you. Which brings me to the fact that he turns into a puppy when you touch him, your touch is just to comforting.

He's the big spoon because he feels like he protects you and it makes his scent stay on you.

He can get jealous very easily, he trusts you but he doesn't trusts the others and he doesn't want any boys or girls too close to his imprint.

Loves everything you cook or bake and will always eat everything.

Overprotective, if any vampire even dare to touch you, he'll kill him.

Little Freak - Harry Styles

⤷ Charlie Swan - old love

Charlie is old school but still a huge gentleman.

He will bring you flowers every time you had a bad day and some chocolates when you had a good day to make it even better.

He loves watching old movies or crime/detective movies with you, with his arm around your shoulder.

When he has day off, you two will go on a picnic date which always ends up with you laying on his chest while he's telling you some stories from work.

Every time you bring him a lunch into his police office, he will welcome you with a warm, thankful smile and thank you with a kiss on your cheek.

He will protect you even more than before, when he finds out that there are vampires and werewolfs (shape-shifters).

Burning Love - Elvis Presley

⤷ Bella Swan - teenage love

Bella will be awkward and nervous when she first spoke to you, because you were just too beautiful to be real. But to her surprise she made you fall in love with her which made her so, so happy.

First attempts of trying to cuddle with her or just show her simple romantic affection were awkward because she was just to nervous, eventually she will warm up and feel more comfortable.

She find our that you touch calms her anxiety and nervousness so whenever she's nervous or anxious she will just hold your hand and squeeze it gently.

Charlie was very happy that his daughter found someone like you, which made Bella even more happy when she saw how you, the love of her life and her father get along.

Often having sleepovers at her house when Charlie has night shifts, which always leads to matching face masks and cuddles.

Kisses on the cheek are her favourite, because she can easily turn and give you small peck on your cheek and visa versa.

Electric Love - BØRNS

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ramshacklefey · 1 year

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It's amazing to me just how good the Mormon church has been at hiding just how bad they really are from public view. Even the shit that gets spread around is the relatively harmless bullshit. They had a crazy prophet with magic glasses. They believe in god-mandated polygyny. They think everyone who is good enough will get their very own planet after the world ends. They wear magic underpants. Mormon men are all paladins.

Here's one of the ones you hear less often:

See, like many other Christian sects, the Mormons really do believe that the existence of Christ obviates the existence of Judaism. Judaism was just a placeholder until the "real" church could be established by Jesus.

And the Mormons in particular believe, dead ass, that the entire inheritance of Israel has been given to them, because the Jews failed to recognize the Messiah when he was on Earth. They really do. They have this whole system where people are given a "divine revelation" about which of the Tribes of Israel they're a member of (don't worry, they decided that most people belong to the two tribes that are willing to "adopt" people. Only the most specialest boys and girls are members of the original ten).

Let's sum up so far. The Mormons believe that they are the people of Israel, chosen and protected by God. If Jews want to get back in on that party, they can always repent and convert to Mormonism, the one true church to which God gave all the rights and blessings that were originally bestowed on Abraham's house.

But it doesn't stop there!

The Mormons also believe, in all seriousness, that all Indigenous peoples of the Americas are descended from a small group of Jewish people who left just before the fall of Jerusalem (~600 bc iirc). Their entire weird-ass extra bible is a chronicle of those people's history in [unspecific part of America]. At the very beginning of the book, two brothers in the original family turn away from god, so they and all their descendants are cursed with dark skin, so that the good Nephites (who remain "white and delightsome") will always be able to tell themselves apart from the wicked Lamanites.

So, you've got supposedly Jewish people running around the Americas. And the "good" ones are white, and the "bad" ones are brown. Then, ofc, Jesus comes to visit them (I guess supposedly that's part of what he was doing during his dirt nap? Or possibly after he left again, it's not clear), and they all convert to Christianity, which they think is clearly the natural evolution of Judaism. Well, at the end of the book, all of them become wicked, in a kind of weird pseudo-apocalyptic series of events. They are all cursed with dark skin, until such time as they repent for their ancestors sins and return to the gospel.

But of course, Mormons being the good and kind people they are, they want everyone to receive the blessings of God and be brought into the houses of Israel etc etc. And it isn't the fault of those poor little Indigenous children that their distant ancestors turned away from God and became wicked.

So what's the natural answer? Well, Mormons are real big on missionary work, as we all know. But apparently that wasn't enough in this case.

Because the Mormon church has been one of the big players in abducting as many Indigenous children as possible, in order to indoctrinate them into being good Mormons, so that they can turn white again and be blessed. My mother remembers hearing talks about this in the 70s and 80s. The church literally had a "Lamanite Adoption Program," where families in the church were encouraged to get as many Indigenous children as possible away from their families and not let them be reunited until they were fully assimilated and ready to go back and proselytize about how wonderful the church is.

The church leadership literally talked about how wonderful it was to see these children becoming whiter. Actually whiter. Like, saying that when they finally saw them with their families again, it was beautiful how much paler they were.

I'm pretty sure this program has been officially ended, but it doesn't take a genius to speculate about who might be behind the curtains on the movement in the western US to gut the ICWA....

So yeah. Next time someone tries to tell you that the Mormons are just harmless weirdos, please remember that they're an antisemitic cult that advocates for the forced assimilation of Indigenous children to help them escape the cursed brown skin of their ancestors.

#cw mormonism #mormons #exmo #and this is still barely scratching the surface of how fucked up that organization is

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evergone · 3 months

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Lonely

Theodore Nott x Legilimens! reader

Warnings: Swearing.

Description: The reader has no friends until destiny (in the form of a boy named Theodore Nott) does everything to make her feel like she belongs.

In your first year, you were put in a dorm by yourself. You heard so many times that this was a gift — a sign of your good fortune, Professor Trelawney said — as everyone else in your year group had to share with someone else, but you, the introvert you were, were left to your own devices. Despite these assumptions, you quickly discovered that sharing a dorm was central to establishing friendships, and you spent the vast majority of your high school life friendless and alone.

At times, your boredom and your loneliness were so all-encompassing that you would read the minds of the first years who you knew wouldn’t be capable of sensing the imposition upon their thoughts. None of them thought of much. The boys were preoccupied with daydreams of girls and music (most of them were very into hip-hop as was the popular culture of the nineties), and the girls were nearly all stressing about parties and school work.

You were as much at ease with your situation as one could possibly be. You were of the mindset that if there was nothing you could do about it, why bother? Everyone had their cliques, their friends, and you were just the one to be left out. Your only goal was to get through the remaining year, then you would leave school, rent a house somewhere obscure, become a writer or an archaeologist or something else fun, and start your life over again. But it appeared that destiny had other plans.

Destiny, that supreme, omniscient, omnipotent concept that dwindled above and twisted within the interactions of all peoples, came to you in a free period you were spending in the library. The period before had been Charms, but that was of no consequence, neither was the fact that you had no more classes until later that night when you would make the journey to the Astronomy tower. You were sitting at a desk in the far left corner of the library, tucked between the pages of a number of books written by Z-named authors of some incredibly niche portion of history when Madam Pince’s high-pitched and troubled voice disturbed your rather unproductive attempts to finish your homework.

Ever bored, and hardly ever entertained, you leant to the side to see around the long bookcase. To your surprise, your eyes immediately met with a pair of blue ones. The irises were mere spots lost in the oceans of colour and they darted between you and Madam Pince, desperate for assistance. Behind those eyes, you could hear his mind asking for your help. If you was slightly smarter, you would’ve avoided this person’s gaze altogether and returned to your work.

“Madam Pince,” you said before allowing yourself a moment to think, and the frustrated librarian’s head turned to you in owl-like frustration, “Is everything okay?”

“Not at all,” she said, her voice an angry whisper, “Mr Nott should be in class, instead, he’s here violating my books!”

You glanced at the owner of the eyes. The green lining of his robe told you he was from your house, so you knew him even if only from afar. He hung out with the big group of your housemates most of the time, but you’d observed that he often sat by himself in the common room and the others intruded on his personal time. He was tall — probably six feet or so — and thin, with hair that was darker than blond, but most definitely not as dark as some of his friends’ hair. In the traditional sense, he was handsome, but you’d heard him speak in class before, and his voice bore an awkward intonation as if to speak was to curse which made him seem almost as nerdy as yourself. Despite this, every movement he made seemed elegant no matter his emotion, this was so inherent of a feature that even in that moment — when he was so clearly itching to turn and run — he was like a swan. His name was Theodore Nott, and you’d never spoken to him before.

“He’s supposed to be helping me with my homework,” you blurted out and Madam Pince quirked a pencilled-on eyebrow, “You know I’m terrible with, uh, Ancient Runes.” You both had that class together.

“Yeah,” nodded Theo as he stepped around her and stood by your side, “The professor said it was okay, I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.”

“As am I,” she frowned, “Tell her not to let this happen again.”

“Yes, Madam.”

With an irritated hum, she left the two of you alone. Theo turned to face you once she was out of earshot, and let out a sigh of relief before sitting down on the edge of the desk you were at.

“You’re in Slytherin,” he said obviously, “What year?”

You sucked in a breath of air, “Sixth. Yours.”

“Oh.”

His brain exploded with a million thoughts at once, his conscious and subconscious fighting for dominance. You could hear the embarrassment as he reprimanded himself for not knowing, and the confusion as he searched his memories for some sign that he had, in fact, seen you before.

“We have Potions together, and Astronomy, and Divination, and Ancient Runes, and… most of our classes, actually.” You shrugged without a care.

Theo cringed, “Sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed you before.”

“I don’t really make my presence known,” you said, “So don’t worry about it.”

“I’m Theodore Nott,” he introduced himself, hand outstretched towards you, “What’s your name? I don’t want to make the same mistake next time.”

“Y/n L/n,” you said and shook his hand. It was soft and had no callouses at all.

“I best be off, I’m missing Arithmancy.”

“Boring.”

“You’re telling me,” he chuckled and left the library.

Over the course of that afternoon, you were unable to tear your mind away from Theo, and none of your homework was completed as a result. You didn’t go to dinner in the Great Hall. Your mind was much too preoccupied to eat.

At eleven-thirty, your alarm sounded, and you washed your face in preparation for Astronomy. Professor Sinistra demanded that all her students wore their uniforms for her classes, even if said classes were at midnight, but there wasn’t a single person who ever did that other than Hermione Granger. Everyone else tended to pull their robes overtop their pyjamas and call it a day, yourself included.

The lesson wasn’t all that interesting as Sinistra had the class chart some stars for the whole hour. However, you barely managed to get anything done because you were so distracted by Theo who was sitting peacefully at the opposite side of the tower amongst his friends. Including Theo, there were five of them (you didn’t include Crabbe and Goyle, who you always thought were less friends than goons, or Millicent Bulstrode or Tracey Davis, both of whom you knew were periodically hated by the others). Two girls, three boys.

Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy, and finally, Theo. At seventeen, his hair was a mostly consistent length of woody brown curls that sat fluffily on his head — if anything it was maybe a bit shorter on the sides. His eyebrows were thick as they always were, and in that particular Astronomy lesson, they were hard pressed against the tips of his long eyelashes that seemed almost too feminine to belong to him. By far the most intriguing and attractive aspect of Theo was, of course, the prominent mole on his left cheek that stole your attention away from a tight-lipped smile he had thrown your way.

Your immediate reaction was to blush and avert your eyes, but upon glancing back and noticing he was still staring, you offered him a short wave. He nodded in response before turning to Draco and saying something too far away for you to hear.

The next morning, or, perhaps, later that morning is the right expression, you went to breakfast in the Great Hall. Not having eaten dinner the night prior had left you so completely starving. You could’ve eaten a pegasus. You sat down on the edge of the Slytherin table by yourself, and loaded a plate with two eggs, about five slices of bacon (it very well could have been more, your memory isn’t perfect), a piece of toast, and a spoonful of baked beans.

“Where are all your friends?”

You looked up to see Theo standing over you chewing on the end of a breadstick.

“Why do you ask?” you questioned.

“Because you’re sitting here by yourself and it looks a bit pathetic, L/n,” laughed Theo teasingly.

“I don’t really have any friends.”

“Oh,” said Theo, “Sorry I asked.”

You shrugged, and as he glanced to the middle of the table you shoved as much of the baked beans into your mouth as possible, and quickly swallowed them. Merlin’s beard, you were so embarrassed.

“Give me a sec,” he said absentmindedly and you almost thought to use your Legilimency on him, “I’ll be right back.”

He placed his breadstick in front of you as if it were a deposit meant to reassure you that he’d be back, but you weren’t fazed either way. You watched as he jogged over to his group of friends and started chatting with them, but never sat down. With his right hand, he motioned back at you, and you glanced away as the rest of them turned to get a good look at you. Suddenly, you were concerned about how well your makeup was applied, and if your uniform looked good, and if there was still too much food on your plate. And then, all of them stood up with their plates, and followed Theo over to sit around you.

Most of them sat on the other side of the table, but Theo sat next to you, and Blaise by his other side. He introduced you to everyone: Goyle, Crabbe, Draco, Pansy, Daphne, Blaise, himself (“but you know me already,” he’d joked).

“It’s crazy to think we don’t know you despite being in the same house as you for the past six years,” said Daphne and Pansy elbowed her in the waist, sending her a death glare.

“Excuse her,” Pansy smiled awkwardly, “She’s a bitch.”

Your ears tickled at the word. You weren’t used to people calling those they were friends with such vulgar names… You weren’t used to the idea of friends at all.

Draco started rattling off about half-bloods and “that darn Potter,” spurring his friends into a rather heated conversation. They laughed and cackled loudly at each other, entirely easy around you as if it didn’t matter at all that they didn’t know you.

“Is this okay?” Theo asked you in a whisper once the group had moved on to another topic of conversation.

“Yes, this is nice,” you responded with a blush over your cheeks as you tried not to smile, “I don’t remember the last time I spoke to so many people.”

Theo’s eyes softened, glazed with a thin layer of water that informed you of his empathy. He felt your loneliness as if it was his own. The image of a young version of himself locked in his bedroom, wailing for his long deceased mother, flashed in his memories and seeped into your brain. An involuntary consequence of your extraordinary Legilimency talent.

When Saturday finally arrived, you slept in the whole morning. You only awoke at the sound of a knock on your door followed by a series of laughter at ten o’clock. You rolled out of bed, and for a moment stopped in horror of your hair in front of the mirror to quickly tie it up, and then opened the door.

You were surprised to see Pansy and Daphne there, but even more so when Daphne asked, “It’s Hogsmeade day, why aren’t you ready?”

“Huh?” You said, squinting at the light of the hallway.

“Theo sent us up to grab you, get some clothes on and let’s go,” said Pansy as she pushed past you and slipped into your room, Daphne hot on her heel, “Merlin’s beard, there’s absolutely nothing in here.”

“Yeah, uh, I’ve got it all to myself,” you muttered.

“Oh, that’s got to be terribly boring,” said Pansy.

Both of the girls made themselves at home as they rummaged through your drawers looking for something nice to wear. They were both dressed very well themselves, and it made you a little self-conscious to think they were going to see all your cheap clothes.

Pansy threw a sheer white shirt you didn’t know you had and a pair of bootleg jeans onto your bed while Daphne kicked over some matching joggers and a big white handbag you’d stolen from your mother.

“It is terribly boring,” you said.

As the three of you descended the stairs (after you got dressed, of course), you could already hear the sounds of masculine voices teetering on yelling at one another. One of them you knew to be Theo’s, and while you weren’t particularly familiar with them, you were inclined to assume the other two voices were Draco and Blaise. At the bottom step out of the girls’ dormitory hallway, you were proven correct when you saw them bickering like old men at a weekend golf tournament.

Draco was the first to notice the three of you, and his grey eyes lit up at the sight, “L/n, come settle an argument for us.”

You walked to join the small group and stood beside Theo, your handbag held meekly between your fingers, the nails of which had magenta paint flaking off them.

“Your mate Theo here—” Draco gestured to him with an uninterested hand, and you nearly laughed at the idea that Theo was your mate more than he was any of the others’— “Thinks that we ought to have a Legilimens registry like we have for Animagi. Frankly, I think it’s absolutely blasphemous that we even have one for Animagi; let them run wild, I say! What are your thoughts? Don’t mind the coincidental pun.”

“I’m afraid I’m a bit biased in this conversation,” you spoke quietly.

“How do you mean?”

The faces of the group stared at you with raised brows, and eyes that glistened with interest, and you were red from the attention.

“Well, I’m a Legilimens,” you admitted, “So, I’d have to disagree with you, Theo, for my own sake.”

“Are you really?” Theo asked to break the silence, and you nodded shyly.

“That’s so cool!” Daphne all but squealed, “What number am I thinking of?”

“Seven.”

She brightened with delight, and slapped Pansy’s arm, encouraging her to try your magic out like a little game. Pansy did just that, and you ended up going around the whole group, describing what they were thinking of. Eight. Twelve. Bakery. Seven. And Theo was questioning why you weren’t already on the way to Hogsmeade.

With that final thought, they grew disillusioned by the game, and you began the walk to Hogsmeade.

You’d never been into town with other people before, not that you went much at all. You usually stayed in your room, or wandered the halls, towering over the first and second years who weren’t allowed to go on weekend Hogsmeade trips yet. But there you were, forming one kink in a string of knots engaging in stimulating conversation about the current condition of the world, and even boring conversation about the homework for Defense Against the Dark Arts which, to you, seemed so thrilling even if only for the fact that it was verbal discourse in some form. You’d forgotten what it was to converse with others.

“Is there anywhere you need to go once we get there?” said Theo once you were nearing the end of the path and closing in on the town.

“I would have been awake before Daphne and Pansy got to my room if I planned to go anywhere today,” you joked and he smiled, “If you don’t mind, I might just go wherever you go.”

All he offered in response was a hum, and it left you thinking that you’d somehow made the air around you awkward. You’d later come to learn that he was just like that, never much of a talker if he thought the situation didn’t call for it.

Almost instantly after you passed sign that read ‘Welcome to Hogsmeade,’ the group dispersed, and Theo and yourself were left to do as you pleased.

Your companion, it seemed, didn’t have much he wanted to do either, so he led you to the Three Broomsticks. Kindly, he offered to pay for a butterbeer or two, but you didn’t think you were close enough for that, so you humbly told him it was alright. You sat in relative silence until our drinks arrived when Theo struck up some conversation.

“What have you been doing all these years by yourself, L/n?” He asked.

“I don’t know… Stuff…”

Theo laughed, and you laughed along with him. Your mind was frazzled by the alcohol, which kept refilling itself as you chatted on, and every so often you found thoughts that didn’t belong to you creeping into your mind, but you couldn’t place who they belonged to. It was just the odd word — sad, or pretty, or damned, or Y/n.

“Nott, are you and Malfoy good friends?” You asked.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?”

“You seem to argue quite a bit.”

“He’s just like that,” said Theo, “Likes to start shit for no reason, that one.”

You giggled, and he grinned happily. Another person’s thoughts seeped into yours once again, that time a full sentence: ‘I love her laugh.’

The bell that hung over the entrance to the Three Broomsticks jingled, and though you couldn’t see it behind you, you watched as Theo’s expression morphed into one of guilt. You turned over your shoulder, and made out the figures of the four people who had come with you. Each of them were wearing a disappointed look on their faces.

“What in the name of Merlin are you two doing?” asked Pansy, her tone equal parts concerned and amused.

“Nothing,” said Theo.

“Yeah, if ‘nothing’ is code for drinking all day,” said Blaise, “Snape’s gonna have your asses for this.”

The others guided yourself and Theo back to the castle. Your hand was attached to Pansy’s forearm, Theo’s arm was slung over Draco’s shoulder. By the time you reached the Slytherin common room, You were sober enough to move on your own, and thus, started your way up to your dorm.

“Where are you going?” Theo asked curiously. He was far away enough that you couldn’t smell his breath which stunk like the vomit he’d expelled from his body halfway through the walk back.

“My room,” you said.

“No, no, no.” He shook his head and then closed his eyes from the dizziness. “It’s sleepover night. You have to come to our dorm, I made room for you on my bed.”

“I used to sleep there because he’s got the best mattress out of the three of them, but we figured you might prefer to sleep beside him than Blaise,” Daphne explained.

“Oh,” you breathed, “Do I need to contribute anything?”

You hadn’t had a sleepover before. You didn’t know the proper protocol. You assumed one would need to bring at least their pyjamas and a pillow, maybe some sweets of some kind to share. But Theo shook his head, and you were in the boys’ room before you knew what was happening.

The boys’ dorm room was the opposite of yours. So exquisitely full, and intricately messy. The three beds were all the same size as yours with dark green bed hangings, and each about a metre apart.

Closest to the door and to their small shared bathroom was Theo’s bed. On the right, beside the door to the bathroom, he had a tower of books that acted as a wall. His sheets were black, but his pillows and blanket cover were a dark oceanic blue-green. There wasn’t much room, but you spied a large mess under his bed which you assumed was what he’d removed from the bed to make space. On his bedside table sat a small lamp that provided the only light in the room before Daphne declared it was far too ‘dark and gloomy’ and turned on the central light.

On the floor, directly under the light, there was a large medieval-style rug that bore our house crest, and the others sat on it lazily, ushering you over.

“I need a smoke,” said Draco, and he walked over to the window where the ashtray was.

“Me too,” said Theo as he also moved to the window, “You want one, L/n?”

“I’ve never smoked before.”

“Then I shouldn’t get you in the habit,” he smiled, “It is such a terrible habit to have. Costs more than it’s worth.”

He pulled a box of cigarettes from his pocket and offered one to Draco, and they both lit them with their wands.

“Does it taste nice?” You asked.

“Not particularly,” said Theo.

“Why do you do it then?”

“You’re so curious, L/n,” Draco teased.

Theo playfully slapped him on the chest, “Leave her alone,” he said, and then turned to you, “I’m an addict.”

“That’s got to be bad for your lungs, Nott,” you frowned, suddenly concerned.

“Don’t you worry about him,” said Pansy, a knowing smirk on her lips that told you she was well aware you’d continue worrying.

The night went on much shorter than you wished for it to. You’d hoped, perhaps too eagerly, that none of you would ever sleep. Far too much did you enjoy being awake with those people who you’d met too late in yout life. You were truly happy to have met them because for all the simple joys you’d managed to discover in your time alone, none were half as happy as those grand joys you found with them

You all took turns getting changed in the small bathroom (Theo lent you a shirt to wear), then you all slid into our respective beds. You were nervous about sleeping beside Theo because, in truth, you didn’t really know him. But he placed a pillow between you, and only faced you for a moment — a moment in which there was a look in his eyes that you couldn’t decipher, a moment in which you attempted to read his mind all too late — and then he kissed his fingers, and he touched them to your head, and he turned the other way.

“Did you sleep well?” Theo said once he noticed you were awake the next morning.

“I’ve never slept beside someone before,” you explained nervously, “I think it was a decent experience. I hope I didn’t move around too much.”

“Not at all, L/n,” he said.

A hum escaped your mouth, and you were acutely aware that Theo was watching you as you stared up at the roof of his room. Painted on it, Sistine Chapel-style, was a beautiful lush green forest.

“L/n. It’s so formal to call you by your surname.” Theo let out a disapproving tut.

“I call you by yours?” You said as you looked at him from the corner of your eye.

“You’re the only one who does.”

“It’s your name!” You raised your voice slightly before lowering it again so as to not wake any of the others up. “What else am I supposed to call you?”

“Theo,” he said, “That’s what everyone calls me.”

“And what false-name shall I bear, then?”

He chuckled quietly as he finally sat up. He raised his long arms in a stretch that exposed the bottom of his stomach and his V-line, and you glanced away until he returned his arms down to a cross in front of his chest. You took notice of his hair, which was awfully messy in the morning, and you thought he should get his hands on a bonnet to take care of it, but then you thought he probably shouldn’t. A silk pillow would’ve done him wonders, though.

“A nickname for Y/n,” said Theo, “How about Y/n/n?”

“I suppose that will do,” you said as nonchalantly as possible, but inside you were screaming with excitement. A nickname! You’d never had a nickname before.

“Oh, you suppose, do you?” he teased.

Your amused smile betrayed your insincere attempt at a pout, “Don’t make fun of me.”

“Don’t let anyone else call you Y/n/n, alright?” said Theo, and you crossed your brows in question, “I want it to be just an us-thing. They can call you your full name at most.”

He was extraordinarily bossy. But it was sweet. Heartwarming, even.

“Wait, but if everyone calls you Theo, I want something just for us, too!” You blushed at how overly familiar that sounded, but Theo’s rosy cheeks filled you with conviction. “How about Teddy?”

Giddily, he smiled at you, “Say it to me in a sentence.”

You frowned, but obeyed, “I like being your friend, Teddy. — How was that?” He nodded happily, “You say one for mine, now.”

He thought for a moment, trying to decide on a sentence to say.

“Read my mind, Y/n/n.”

Always, he had to boss you around. But, again, you really didn’t care. It was just nice to have someone to boss you around. To think that only at the beginning of that week, you had no friends at all… Now you had so many, and all thanks to destiny. All thanks to your Teddy.

A breath, and then you forced your way into his mind. There was a picture there waiting for you, a memory from Monday. A memory of you, except, you seemed to glow. You’d seen yourself in a million mirrors and memories over the course of your life, but never had you looked so beautiful. And then, there were words.

“I’d like to go on a date with you, Y/n/n.”

Your eyes snapped open as you left his thoughts to belong to him alone.

“What?” You asked, your ears red.

“I think you’re absolutely brilliant, Y/n/n. Please, go on a date with me?” Theo smiled.

He inched closer until your noses touched and you could barely tell each others’ features apart. Each of you were just blurs of colour.

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Teddy.”

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murdocks-devil · 3 months

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Gotham citizens must be wildly protective of their cryptid vigilantes who are shit at hiding their identities. Like, you mean to tell me there's as many sidekicks Batman has as Brucie Wayne has children (acquired however way) with identical facial features and they don't realise it? You mean to tell me Red Robin and Spoiler didn't pay with their civilian cards at a batburger store? You really think noone remembers young Dick Grayson-Wayne's tales of acrobatics and then bam you have nightwing later and yeah no you think those things are disconnected?

Nah Gotham treats its own in the same way Tobey Maguire's Spidey got treated on the train. Adoration, concern, respect and love. Shit like not registering Red Robin's card and instead it's on the house. Like leaving cats and dogs in comfy but accessible places in the house so Robin can pet them on his way to patrol. Like making sure to childproof sharp arches so Nightwing doesn't get nicks. Like leaving homemade food and checking out library books for Red Hood.

Like pulling on Batman's helmet and calling his children and looking the other way when he's too injured even though that face has been plastered across every single billboard in the city one time or another.

Unless they perceive you as a journalist poking their nose in where it doesn't belong. Then you get conspiracy theories about Batman and Brucie Wayne's star crossed love stories and stuff like YouTube thirst videos of blurry Red Hood munching on a sandwich and memes.

And then there's one journalist who's so very confused why entirety of Gotham seems to lie when it comes to a particular group of very famous people he knows both ways.

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shooting-love-arrows · 6 months

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Omg im so in love with househusband,he is sl adorable i wanna keep him in my pocket and protect him from the world!!!!

Does househusband have an official name? And if rq are open yet,how would he be like with a spouse that can be very protective and possessive with him?

- 🌟 anon

Dear 🌟 anon,

Well, you certainly can keep him in his pocket! He wouldn't mind one bit. (He'll crawl there at any given ti —) As for now, he doesn't have an official name.

@shooting-love-arrows

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎'𝐬! 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 with overprotective/possessive! reader

PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 x [OVERPROTECTIVE/POSSESSIVE] reader (gender not specified) Tw. reader is a walking red flag, possessive behavior, toxic behavior, questionable things

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The moment you said your wedding vows, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 pledged to wholly belong to you. His body, mind, soul and everything that made him well…him.

What I mean is that he probably expects you to be overprotective/possessive over him. In his eyes, it means that you care, love and crave him just like he does you. Besides, those books 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 read in his early youth always implied that your partner should act like that as it’s a clear sign of their strong affection.

In conclusion, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 definitely doesn’t mind your behavior/personality and in fact finds it endearing. He becomes compliant when it comes to you so he has no problem accepting how you act towards him. In fact, he finds it sweet and he hopes you’ll continue doing so <3

✿ BONUS ✿

Some of his favorite you do because of your possessiveness/overprotectiveness:

Marking him. There are many ways to mark one's territory but 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 likes it the most when you give him love-bites (hiskeys). Although it’s considered highly inappropriate to leave marks where others can see them, he likes them to be on his throat, especially just above the pearls you gave him. It was a clear sign to everyone that he was off the limits. And he has something to gossip about with his besties in the club (they're definitely jealous and wish to be in his place but shhh! That’s a secret.).

“Is…” A nameless househusband lowered his voice and leaned in closer to 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 “A love bite?” “Yes” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 out his chest and raised his head higher, proudly displaying the fresh hickey you made this morning.

Make him match his clothes with you. It began long at the very early stage of your courting. On your first date, when 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 came dressed in his best outfit which unfortunately wasn’t matching yours, you wrinkled your nose and told him: “this won’t do”. And so you took him into one of the most luxurious clothing shots, where you choose his outfit so it would be matching yours. Right there and then, he was ready to propose and get married.

Your interrogations. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 loves sharing information with you about his day in detail. Every question thrown his way, he’ll answer honestly. He has no problem telling you who he was with? What was he doing? Did someone bother him? Might I say, sometimes he’ll stretch the truth just to make you jealous and let your possessiveness/overprotectiveness shine. Especially when he feels horny and just wants you to ravage him on the spot.

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

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physalian · 1 month

Text

You don’t have to pay for that fancy worldbuilding program

As mentioned in this post about writing with executive dysfunction, if one of your reasons to keep procrastinating on starting your book is not being able to afford something like World Anvil or Campfire, I’m here to tell you those programs are a luxury, not a necessity: Enter Google Suite (not sponsored but gosh I wish).

MS Office offers more processing power and more fine-tuning, but Office is expensive and only autosaves to OneDrive, and I have a perfectly healthy grudge against OneDrive for failing to sync and losing 19k words of a WIP that I never got back.

Google’s sync has never failed me, and the Google apps (at least for iPhone) aren’t nearly as buggy and clunky as Microsoft’s. So today I’m outlining the system I used for my upcoming fantasy novel with all the helpful pictures and diagrams. Maybe this won’t work for you, maybe you have something else, and that’s okay! I refuse to pay for what I can get legally for free and sometimes Google’s simplicity is to its benefit.

The biggest downside is that you have to manually input and update your data, but as someone who loves organizing and made all these willingly and for fun, I don’t mind.

So. Let’s start with Google Sheets.

The Character Cheat Sheet:

I organized it this way for several reasons:

I can easily see which characters belong to which factions and how many I have named and have to keep up with for each faction

All names are in alphabetical order so when I have to come up with a new name, I can look at my list and pick a letter or a string of sounds I haven’t used as often (and then ignore it and start 8 names with A).

The strikethrough feature lets me keep track of which characters I kill off (yes, I changed it, so this remains spoiler-free)

It’s an easy place to go instead of scrolling up and down an entire manuscript for names I’ve forgotten, with every named character, however minor their role, all in one spot

Also on this page are spare names I’ll see randomly in other media (commercials, movie end credits, etc) and can add easily from my phone before I forget

Also on this page are my summary, my elevator pitch, and important character beats I could otherwise easily mess up, it helps stay consistent

*I also have on here not pictured an age timeline for all my vampires so I keep track of who’s older than who and how well I’ve staggered their ages relative to important events, but it’s made in Photoshop and too much of a pain to censor and add here

On other tabs, I keep track of location names, deities, made-up vocabulary and definitions, and my chapter word count.

The Word Count Guide:

*3/30 Edit to update this chart to its full glory. Column 3 is a cumulative count. Most of what I write breaks 100k and it's fun watching the word count rise until it boils over.

This is the most frustrating to update manually, especially if you don’t have separate docs for each chapter, but it really helps me stay consistent with chapter lengths and the formula for calculating the average and rising totals is super basic.

Not that all your chapters have to be uniform, but if you care about that, this little chart is a fantastic visualizer.

If you have multiple narrators, and this book does, you can also keep track of how many POVs each narrator has, and how spread out they are. I didn’t do that for this book since it’s not an ensemble team and matters less, but I did for my sci-fi WIP, pictured below.

As I was writing that one, I had “scripted” the chapters before going back and writing out all the glorious narrative, and updated the symbols from “scripted” to “finished” accordingly.

I also have a pie chart that I had to make manually on a convoluted iPhone app to color coordinate specifically the way I wanted to easily tell who narrates the most out of the cast, and who needs more representation.

—

Google Docs

Can’t show you much here unfortunately but I’d like to take an aside to talk about my “scene bits” docs.

It’s what it says on the tin, an entire doc all labeled with different heading styles with blurbs for each scene I want to include at some point in the book so I can hop around easily. Whether they make it into the manuscript or not, all practice is good practice and I like to keep old ideas because they might be useful in unsuspecting ways later.

Separate from that, I keep most of my deleted scenes and scene chunks for, again, possible use later in a “deleted scenes” doc, all labeled accordingly.

When I designed my alien language for the sci-fi series, I created a Word doc dictionary and my own "translation" matrix, for easy look-up or word generation whenever I needed it (do y'all want a breakdown for creating foreign languages? It's so fun).

Normally, as with my sci-fi series, I have an entire doc filled with character sheets and important details, I just… didn’t do that for this book. But the point is—you can still make those for free on any word processing software, you don’t need fancy gadgets.

—

I hope this helps anyone struggling! It doesn’t have to be fancy. It doesn’t have to be expensive. Everything I made here, minus the aforementioned timeline and pie chart, was done with basic excel skills and the paint bucket tool. I imagine this can be applicable to games, comics, what have you, it knows no bounds!

Now you have one less excuse to sit down and start writing.

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writing #writeblr #organizing your book #outlining #shut up and write the book #google sheets #google docs

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genderkoolaid · 3 months

Note

The transandrophobia brainrot has hit tiktok hard. There's a sound going around right now that uses the T slur in a reclamatory way, but whenever a transmasc person uses the sound people lose their minds saying it's transmisogynistic for them to use that word. But when cis male drag queens use the audio it's a slay.

My answer to those people is Get Kate Bornstein'd:

Tranny. Many people don’t know the history of the word, they assume it was an assigned hate term or slur along the lines of the “n” word. That’s not how it happened. Tranny was invented by us in Sydney, Australia in the 1970s where drag was a big deal, and still the best drag shows ever are in Sydney, Australia – they’re amazing. So a lot of trans-identified women who were assigned male at birth did drag, that’s how you made your living. And so they were transsexuals, transvestites, drag queens, and they were all doing drag to make money. They all bickered amongst each other who is better than who, “Well the drag queens are better,” “No, the transsexuals are better.” “You are all freaks, we’re better.” And on and on and on. But they worked together and they were family together, so they came up with a word that would say family and that was tranny. In Australia they do the diminutive, that’s how they come up with words. So tranny. I learned the word in the mid-1980s, late 1980s from my drag mom in San Francisco, Doris Fish, who was the city’s preeminent drag queen and she’d come from Sydney. And she schooled me in this word tranny, she said, “This way it means we’re family, darling.” “Thank you mama.” [...] So we used it and we were trannies together. And F to M was just beginning to start, the trans men were just beginning to become visible, Lou Sullivan was a neighbor of mine around the corner, and he was the first big out trans man, wrote his book. So trans men and cross dressers . . . cross dressers were also family. Transsexuals, we were all trannies and that felt good. That got into the sex industry and became a genre – there was tranny porn, there were tranny sex workers – chicks with dicks, she-males. [...] And, my only guess is that people who . . . because the only way they would have found out about the word is if they were watching tranny porn or having been with a tranny sex worker and then hated themselves so much that they turned it into a curse word. So it’s not really technically correct to say we’re reclaiming a word – it was always ours. So, many people mistake the word for the hatred behind the word and, in my generation, and I’m sure in future generations of trans people, tranny is going to be a radicalized, sexualized identity of trans in the same way that faggot is a prideful identity in the gay male community – not all gay men are faggots, but those who are are proudly fags and those who are dykes are proudly dykes within the lesbian community, trannies are proudly tranny within the transgender community. Does that mean we can’t call ourselves that because some trans woman does not want to be called a tranny? No. I’m going to keep calling myself a tranny. To the trans woman who gets called tranny, I’m sorry – as soon as . . . you’ve got to look at why you’re getting called tranny and if you don’t pass, you’re going to be read as a transgender person and then you fall back on the cultural view of trans folk which is freak, disgusting, not worth living, we can hurt you. It has nothing to do with the word, it has everything to do with the cultural attitude. So the word has stirred up a shit storm, but it’s not the word.

^ From this interview

Four weeks ago, Bear posted a call for submissions on his blog. In the interests of keeping the call as open as possible, we agreed to include as many trans-identities as we knew, so we used the word "tranny." And that's where the activist shit hit the postmodern fan base. People have been pissed. Here's their argument: FTMs are co-opting a word that belongs to MTFs. The word "tranny" belongs to MTFs, reason those who were hurt by our use of the word, because it was a denigrating term reclaimed by MTFs—ergo, only MTFs could be known as trannies. I spoke with Bear, and we agree that’s wrong on several counts:

Tranny began as a uniting term amongst ourselves. Of course it’s going to be picked up and used as a denigrating term by mean people in the world. But even if we manage to get them to stop saying tranny like a thrown rock, mean people will come up with another word to wound us with. So, let’s get back to using tranny as a uniting term amongst ourselves. That would make Doris Fish very happy.

It's our first own language word for ourselves that has no medical-legacy.

Even if (like gay) hate-filled people try to make tranny into a bad word, our most positive response is to own the word (a word invented by the queerest of the queer of their day). We have the opportunity to re-create tranny as a positive in the world.

Saying that FTMs can’t call themselves trannies eerily echoes the 1980s lesbians who said I couldn’t use the word woman to identify myself, and the 1990s lesbians who said I couldn’t use the word dyke.

At one phase in the evolution of transpeople-as-tribe, it was the male-to-females who were visible and representative of trans to the rest of the world. They were the trannies. Today? Ironically true to the binary we’re in the process of shattering, the pendulum has swung so that it's now female-to-males who are the archetypal trannies of the day. The generation coming up beyond the next generation, i.e. my tribal grandchildren are the young boys who transition to young girls at the age of five or six. They’re the next trannies. None of us can own the word. We can only be grateful that our tribe is so much larger than we had thought it would be. How to come together—now that’s the job of the next generation of gender outlaws.

^ From Who You Calling A Tranny?

We've been having this debate forever and its been stupid forever.

And its an increasingly outdated debate. More people know about trans men&mascs than ever and there are plenty of TM&Ms who have been called tranny by transphobes who don't give a shit about this distinction. And not just people who have been mistaken for transfems, either, but men like Andrew Jonathan Blake-Newton and Saye Skye who were attacked by people who knew them. Do they have more or less of a right to say tranny than a trans girl whose never been called it by a transphobe? (Neither. Because no one owns this word.)

#m.#ask box

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vivalabunbun · 1 year

Text

On the complexities of relationships and words

Summary: For two people that love to read, words seem like a complex.

Word Count: 13k (yeah... this is slow burn, might want to get a drink and snack)

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Slow Burn, Smut(r18+), NSFW, MDNI, Fluff, Angst kind heavy?, Modern AU, Omegaverse AU, A/B/O relationships, slow fic, marriage, arranged pairing, dubcon, themes about not liking yourself, TW: gender dysphoria (you don’t like your secondary gender), TW: Very vague and brief mentions to possible past domestic trauma, Jealous!alhaitham, slight yandere!alhaitham, mutual pining, miscommunication, breeding, biting, ruts, Alpha!alhaitham, Beta!reader. You agreed to the pairing due to tax benefits. A lot of references to literature.

Authors note: This is my first attempt at slow burn and yeah... I got carried away. I want to explore how slow alhaitham would open up and how love can come from the mind instead of the heart. Enjoy.

Side Note: here is a little dabble

Love, an emotion that sets the heart on fire. An all-consuming emotion that feels as if one was falling off a cliff while also being embraced tight by the treads of fate. The emotion that’s only separated by a thin line from madness. Or at least, that is how it’s been described to you through books and movies.

With love being the inspiration for so many poets, artists, and heroes throughout all of history, it comes as no surprise that you found yourself curious about it. It started out innocently, you would listen to the latest romantic ballads from the wandering travelers along the streets of Sumeru. In the nation of wisdom, books were plentiful yet you found your teenage self buying certain novels from Inazuma. Then came the films from Fontaine which you’d spend a week’s worth of pocket money on.

What first began from your childish curiosity became a hidden infatuation. You wanted to feel those emotions described in those songs, books, and movies. So you began your journey to seek it out. Your first relationship filled you with a certain rush, an excitement to finally experience a scene from those novels you loved… but you were only left with disappointment.

Kisses felt bland, holding hands felt awkward after too long, and eye contact uncomfortable. There were no lingering thoughts that kept you up at night, no pink haze of pinning, nor a spark that set your chest ablaze. The breakup didn’t come as a surprise, and even so, it didn’t leave you with those gut-wrenching heartbroken sobs into the pillow as you’ve seen in the movies. Just disappointment.

Perhaps it's because you were basing your expectations on relationships you can never experience. Those songs, those books, those movies? They were all about the bond felt between Alphas and Omegas.

The maddening ruts and needy heat that left your cheeks flushed when you read about them. The touching gestures of scenting, the descriptions of the additive aroma of their beloved, their fated mate. The marking that proclaimed to the world their undying love. You’ll never experience that… since you’ve presented as a Beta.

The worker ants of society, the largest class sandwiched between Alphas and Omegas, the extras in their movies. The category of society that can neither produce nor reciprocate pheromones, the population that lived in mediocrity in the eyes of romantics.

Of course, love was possible for Betas, after all in a population that makes up the majority, there will always be the few that find ‘true love’. But that’s an advanced scholarly topic up for debate, with the societal consensus being that it’s the lowest tier of love. All pairings with Betas belonged in this tier.

Alpha-Alpha, Omega-Omega, and at the very top of the tier list of ‘true love’ was the Alpha-Omega pairing. After all, love scientifically is created by chemical bonds in the brain with oxytocin, the love hormone. Pheromones kicked the production of oxytocin into overdrive, creating an addiction that makes a person long for their lovers every hour of the day. The chemicals that create the fire of romance you once wished upon shooting stars for.

Thankfully with time, as you matured into an adult you resigned yourself to your fate. You found solstice in your one advantage as a Beta over any Alpha or Omega: True independence. Free from the chains that are primal desires brought on by pheromones, your head was clear, decisions not dependent on the fever that was love.

You had given up on searching for love, hey, if you set the bar on the ground then there was less risk of being let down. So that’s why you agreed to your parents’ suggestion of an arranged pairing. To be matched to a life partner by a matchmaker.

“Eh? Isn’t that practice kinda outdated?” Dehya questioned.

“Don’t the city folk use the akasha system, using genetics for compatibility or something?” Your Alpha friend carefully tucked away her compact mirror.

“Actually, I think that’s really romantic! The traditional way matches you by personality and lifestyle compatibility.” Nilou grasped your hands, wishing you luck.

“I agree, old fashioned doesn’t mean it's ineffective. It’s still very much practiced in Aaru Village.” Candace sent a slight side-eye to your other Alpha friend across the table.

Perhaps your Alpha and Omega friends were trying to cheer you on, but frankly, they didn’t need to. The next day when you met with the older woman, you went through the process with a sense of boredom. When answering the matchmaker's question, you stated you just wanted a life partner that was honest, loyal, and respected your individuality.

Next, the matchmaker asked about your interests, you recalled all the literature you used to consume during your obsession with love, and embarrassed by your fruitless past endeavors you answered books.

“What kind of life do you seek, my dear?” Her wrinkly hands intertwined as she leaned on the table.

“A peaceful, quiet life.”

And that was it. She wrote down your responses with a bejeweled quill pen, handwriting beautiful and neat as if she were penning down a poem for you. You were free to go home. Walking down the streets of Sumeru, the dusk birds singing to their lovers, you didn’t even wonder about the Beta she was going to pair you with. You had a full day of work tomorrow, what you really wanted was a full night's rest.

So a month later, you couldn’t hide the bewilderment on your face as you stood in front of a tall Alpha, the partner the matchmaker had deemed a good fit. From his piercing teal orange eyes to his sliver hair to his towering physique, everything about him was the picture-perfect definition of an Alpha.

‘Alhaitham’ was his name, and you must admit it fit him quite well. His face remained unchanged even after his mesmerizing eyes passed over your form quickly. You couldn’t read the lack of expression on his face, was it disinterest? Indifference? Boredom?

A part of you wanted to take your parents to the side and whisper in their ears that the matchmaker was a quack. Who in their right mind matches an Alpha with a Beta? Before you could do so, the matchmaker lead your parents out of the room, giving the two of you some privacy to get acclimated. A heavy silence hung in the air as your bodies stood a respectable distance apart, deciding to break the silence you first stated the obvious.

“I’m not an Omega.”

“I’m aware.” His deep voice sent a small shiver down your spine. Even his voice was beautiful.

“I don’t have any pheromone, meaning I can’t bond.” You glanced up at him.

“I never listed it as a requirement.”

His answers only seemed to confuse you further, perhaps he didn’t think this through all the way. Sure, the matchmaker revealed that both of you wanted peaceful lives, liked books, and believed firmly in one’s individuality. But there was a massive sumpter beast in the room as the saying goes.

“Aren’t you worried about… that time of the year…”

For the first time, his eyes met yours, you quickly shifted your eyes away.

“Are you referring to ruts? Medicine has advanced quite a bit, there are now inhibitors that can regulate pheromones and ruts. Not that you would know, of course.” He huffed out.

You couldn’t stop your eyebrow from twitching in annoyance. Ah, he’s also got that Alpha ego. You were still confused, from the look on your face he quickly deduced it as well.

“I dislike disruptions to my life. Primal desires are just disruptions. To put it bluntly, you as a Beta don’t release pheromones nor go into bouts of unsuppressed lust. Significantly reducing the risk of interrupting my time. You value individuality and are very independent, you’re very unlikely to bother me with trivial matters. All these factors add up to a peaceful, quiet life. Simple isn’t it?”

When he laid out all the reasons so clearly on the table, it’s hard to not note the truth, Alhaitham is a weird Alpha. Perhaps that’s why his grandmother enlisted the help of a matchmaker in her will.

After that day, you took home a folder full of documentation on him. Under the golden light of your desk lamp, you sorted through the information in front of you. He had no criminal record, he owns his own house close to the city, and he held a stable job with a very attractive salary.

You ponder the decision for about a week, weighing the pros and cons. Marriages in Sumeru are often encouraged with sizable tax deductions, more money in your own pocket. Employees with spouses have an easier time requesting paid time off, more money in your pocket and less work. He lacked any familial attachments, meaning no in-laws to deal with. One extra point for being very easy on the eyes too.

You ultimately signed your name on the marriage documents at the city hall, right next to his emulate penmanship. Right there under the fluorescent lights of the government office, the two of you recited your vows. The only other people in the room were your parents and the clerk filing the paperwork.

Within the next few months, you’ve carried the boxes filled with your belongings from your cramped apartment into his spacious house. Your old light novels and romantic collection of poems are now placed on a bookshelf adjacent to his. Bright and artistic covers contrasting against bland academic journals. Of course, there was no honeymoon, no break from your regular work schedules. There was no reason to.

In the first year of your marriage, you viewed him with suspicious eyes. You valued loyalty in a life partner and even though he stated he dislike pheromones and primal urges, he was still an Alpha with such natural responses. Yet, you observed that he came home every day at 5:30 pm on the dot, not a single hair out of place nor a single crease on the collar of his button-downs.

You found him to be a decent housemate, calm, quiet, and respectful of your space. Chores were divided equally between the two of you, making the shared living space organized and dust free. Of course, he was only human thus he also had some flaws.

Sometimes your foot would knock against a stack of books he had left on the floor near the numerous bookshelves throughout the house. Or how you noticed your shampoo and conditioner bottles emptying at an alarming rate, does he not know how expensive haircare is?

Alhaitham deemed you a good fit for a life partner. You weren’t disruptive nor dependent on him in any aspect. You spent your own money responsibly, a diligent person who followed a set work routine without needing any reminders.

You would alternate responsibilities for dinner, but he found your food more flavorful. You threw together ingredients with no regard for measurements, only going off what felt right, compared to his style of calculating the precise amount a ‘pinch’ was.

Of course, it’s expected that you’ve got some quirks that made him tsk internally. It was small insignificant things. Like how sometimes he would find strands of your hair left in the shower drain. Or how you often tuck his books back into the nearest shelf, not caring about if the genres matched or not.

“I commend your artistry. However, a mural made from your hair on the shower wall is unnecessary.”

“You’ve got shorter hair than me, how are you using double the product?”

“It’s all due to your perception, I’m not using any more product than you.”

“Oh?~ Then I guess the hair on the wall is all just your perception too.”

When living with another person there will always be bumps that needed to be smoothed out. But overall, life was peaceful and quiet just how the two of you liked it.

Alhaitham was Alhaitham, and you were you. Two independent individuals only connected by paper and law. Perhaps the only couple-like aspect of your relationship was sharing the same bed. Of course, this was done only out of necessity.

The only other room in the house with a bed was the guest room, even so, there was still an imbalance. The mattress was much smaller and firm when compared to the grand bed in the master bedroom.

He didn’t snore and neither did you, you didn’t toss and turn in your sleep and neither did he. With two separate blankets, he deemed that sharing a bed with you wouldn’t cause any disturbance to his sleep. You two had more than enough money to afford another bed, but just the thought of rearranging the furniture to accommodate it was too bothersome for the both of you. There was more than enough room on the bed for two bodies to sleep without ever touching.

No loud passionate fights nor lingering glances and maddening touches. Just the calm lull of normalcy. But you were satisfied.

By your second year with him, you’ve gotten acquainted with the nuances in his manner of speech. In particular, his sarcastic quips that you’d return with vivacity.

“Mmm, I appreciate the attempt. But I’d rather my books be sorted by subject rather than by instinct.”

“There’s faster ways to collect my life insurance than by getting me to trip over a book, Haitham.”

During this year, the two of you also began to use more familiar terms to address each other. Instead of your name, he’d simply call you wife, and you shortened his name. Husband and ‘Haitham’ had the same amount of letters anyways.

When the date of your courthouse wedding came around, nothing happened.

No flowers, no shiny gifts of jewels, not even a sweet dessert. After all, he found it silly to spend so much effort on a singular day instead of placing that enthusiasm into every regular day of life.

Birthdays shared the same sentiment, you’d be invited out by your group of friends to a celebration planned by Nilou, while Alhaitham would stay at home with his books.

“Happy birthday.” You placed a cup of freshly brewed coffee down in front of him.

“Thank you.” Besides your statement, there was nothing out of the ordinary.

“Hopefully I’m one year closer to collecting your pension.”

Alhaitham has to admit he does enjoy your sardonic humor, but you’d never be able to tell just by looking at him. He took a sip of his coffee, by year two you finally learned how not to scald the coffee grounds when doing a pour-over.

Life continued on, and the two of you were still like parallel lines traveling in the same direction side by side and separately.

It’s now the third year of your marriage. You were currently busy in the kitchen, Alhaitham had just informed you earlier there’d be guests coming over tonight. Fortunately, it’s a Friday which meant you had a half day at work. Quickly purchasing ingredients from street vendors on your way back.

He never had any guests over before, so you assumed that these guests must be important people from work.

You even made sure not to use spices that were too fragrant, just in case any of the guests were extremely sensitive to smells, as Alhaitham had informed you they were all Alphas. Tachin was a rather simple but delicious dish to make. You also picked fresh ingredients that would make a very quick and satisfying salad.

Your husband didn’t particularly like soup, but he doesn’t have the right to be picky when you’re the one rushing to cook enough food for five people, so minty bean soup will be on the table. He had a collection of wines in a separate room, you’ll leave the wine selection up to him.

Just as you finished setting the plates and dishes on the table the chime of the doorbell went off. Wiping off your hands and taking off your apron, doing a quick once-over in the hallway mirror before answering the door.

“O-oh… You’re a… Beta…”

The blond Alpha in front of you had a look of bewilderment across his handsome features. Rudy eyes peering down at you in astonishment as you maintained a polite face.

“Oof-”

An elbow was jabbed into the blond’s side as a shorter dark-haired man signaled for him to shut up.

“Thank you for having us over for dinner.” His friendly face gave you a smile.

“Welcome.” You invited all the men in.

The bewildered blond at the door’s name was Kaveh, the dark-haired man was Tighnari, and the white-haired man with the intense gaze was Cyno.

You familiarized yourself with their names, and from time to time you felt their eyes passing glances over at you as they made small talk. Alhaitham was currently picking out a few bottles of wine.

“So, you’re actually his wife… Ah! Of course, it’s no fault of yours. I’m just shocked he’s actually married, I thought he was bluffing when he said he had a wife. There were no signs… Ugh! Great, I owe drinks now.” Kaveh sighed, face in his hands.

“Alhaitham doesn’t want others knowing too much about him. But the proof is right in front of our eyes.” Cyno leaned his elbows on the table.

Ah, it makes sense that people at his work wouldn’t know about you. There weren’t even rings to distinguish the relationship. Usually, relationships nowadays were sensed through the presence of pheromones on the bodies of lovers. However, you were a Beta with no pheromones to cling onto his person. There’s not the slightest chance he ever talked about you. The two of you were also never seen in public together, so in the eyes of many Alhaitham is still a bachelor. There was a slight churn in your stomach, was the soup upsetting it?

“Gossiping about me while sitting in my house and right in front of my wife?”

Alhaitham’s deep voice mysteriously made the knot in your stomach go away, or maybe it was the way he referred to you, ‘my wife’. He placed the bottles of wine and glasses on the table.

“It’s nothing major. We’re just surprised someone is willing enough to stand your arrogance.” Kaveh crossed his arms.

“Unwed people should not have any comments on other’s relationships.”

“Hey! Why you-”

“Huh…” You pondered out loud.

The attention of the men in the room was all on you now.

“Oh, pardon my interruption. I guess I’m just in awe that my husband has friends.”

In an instant laughter ripped through the air.

“Bwahahaha! Alhaitham, I like your wife already! Ahahaha!” Kaveh was laughing so hard tears were forming in his eyes.

Tighnari had one hand gripping the table and the other covering his mouth as he tried desperately to suppress his snickers, ultimately unsuccessfully.

“Well, I’m not sure if friends is the ‘correct’ term.” Cyno’s voice was steady, but you could see the small shakes of his shoulders.

“I’m beginning to wonder if inviting guests to the house was the right decision.”

Still, the dinner continued and the drinks started to pour. After your statement from earlier, the atmosphere at the table became more lighthearted aided by the help of alcohol.

“So, what’s the occasion?” You asked as you took a sip out of your glass.

“Huh? Alhaitham! How did you not tell your wife about your promotion?” Kaveh nearly spat out his wine.

“There’s no reason to dampen her mood with bad tidings.”

“Bad?!-” You wondered if the blond’s voice could shatter the glass in your hands.

“Keeping your cards close to your chest, even from your wife.” Cyno side-eyed your husband.

“Not at all. Not that the unwed head lawyer would need to know.”

“Tsk.” The tan Alpha crossed his arms.

“Now, now just because he didn’t tell his wife doesn’t mean Alhaitham’s a bad husband.” Tighnari tried to dispel the tension while also landing a subtle jab.

“Mmm, congratulations, Haitham.” You swirled your wine.

“Thank you.” Your husband replied.

The three Alphas looked at each other, eyes sending silent messages. They must find your marriage to the ashen-hair Alpha strange. Alpha-Beta pairings were already against convention, but it seems like the two of you matched each other's pace. Two weird people found each other.

After dinner was finished and you bid goodbye to the guests at the front door.

“Be grateful you stone-faced brat… Your wife’s got... too good to be stuck with your stale…”

The two shorter men carrying the blabbering blond off your front steps.

“He’s quite the lightweight.” You briefly mentioned while over the sink.

“I’m just grateful there’s still wine left. Go rest, I’ll get the dishes.” His larger frame takes up the space at the sink, silently encouraging you to move away.

So you left clean-up duty to him, a fair trade for making you cook a feast so out of the blue. As you stood under the warm water pouring over your body in the shower, your mind began to replay the conversations over dinner. They made you realize just how little you actually knew about your own husband despite living under the same roof for three going on four years now.

Once he stepped foot outside of your shared space he was practically a stranger. What was his job like? Who were his friends? What were his favorite places? Hell, even in your house, he was still a stranger. What books is he reading now? When does he find time to work out? What does he do when you leave the house? This realization made you shiver, as you turned the knob to increase the temperature of the water.

It wouldn’t hurt to try and get to know him a little better.

One Sunday morning, you walked into the living room greeted by the sight of him reading one of your old light novels. Seeing his large hand hold the bright book, decorated with a pair of lovers embracing, while his eyes studied the text like his academic papers was almost comical… If only you didn’t wish to sink through the floor in humiliation. He must’ve lost interest in his own books, or maybe he’d gone through his whole collection.

Either way, to prevent such an occurrence from happening again, you began to pick up some books for your husband on your way home.

‘Metaphysics’, ‘Epistemology’, ‘Quantum Mechanics’: those seemed like topics that’d interest him, you reasoned as you stood in line to purchase them. Your eyes caught sight of a certain book, ‘le rouge et le noir’, on a whim you decided to add it to the stack of heavy books. Not for your husband, but rather for yourself.

That night you handed the books over to him as he was about to go to his favorite reading spot on the couch.

“What’s this for?” He stared at the stack of thick books in your hands.

“Just passed by a bookstore and figured you might need something new to read.” You gestured for him to take them.

“You didn’t have to go out of your way to gift this to me. Thank you, I shall read them.” His low voice indifferent as always, finally taking the weight out of your hands.

You proceeded to move over to the smaller sofa in the living room and plopped down. Pulling out the book you had purchased earlier, you glanced up at him eyes questioning why he was staring. Alhaitham cracked open one of the academic journals you gifted him and averted his teal gaze.

This was a break from your normal routine, but you felt like it’d be a nice change to get back into reading. It also gives you the opportunity to learn more about Alhaitham by spending more time in his presence. But more importantly, it would allow you to keep an eye on your husband to ensure he doesn’t go snooping through your bookshelf again. Maybe you should just donate them, but no library in Sumeru would ever accept them.

Soon that break from routine became the norm. Every night after the kitchen table was cleared, dishes cleaned, and bodies freshly towel dried you and Alhaitham will sit adjacent to each other enjoying quiet reading time. The soft light from the tall floor lamps and soft flicks of turning pages adding to the ambiance of the room.

From time to time, you can hear the sound of him writing some sentences down on a notepad. So he likes to take notes on the books he reads. You learned something new.

Another new fact you gained from your observations of your husband was that he reads fast, really fast. He had already finished all three books before you were even halfway done with yours. You had to act fast lest his teal eyes begin to wander towards your bookshelf again. So, you found yourself back at the bookstore once more. Picking up any thick academic journals on topics ranging from ancient ruins to the newest peer-reviewed breakthroughs.

Maybe you should also pick up some notepads and sticky notes, you saw how thin the pad had gotten last night. It just so happened that the romance section was right by the shelves of stationeries. The book from Fontaine you had bought on a whim was in your opinion more psychological than romantic. However, the romantic elements present seems to have reignited your interest in the romance genre.

Oh well, you were grown enough now to not be so easily swooned by poetic descriptions of love. You picked the first book whose description piqued your interest and added it to the basket.

One of the first lessons taught to the children of Sumeru was to be cautious when putting out campfires. If not killed correctly, the unseen smoke can make fallen leaves catch fire. A small flame grows into a hellish blaze that consumes whole acres of forest.

“Thank you very much. Again, this isn’t necessary.” Alhaitham still took the books out of your hands.

The small notepad on top of the stack caught his attention, his teal eyes looked into yours with a questioning glance.

“Your notepad’s running out, and there was a sale.”

“I see.”

From time to time during your quiet reading session, you would glance up, a part of you hoping to see Alhaitham use the new stationery you’ve just bought him. A frown tugged at your lips when you saw he had set it to the side in favor of his old, thinning notepad. Maybe the color isn’t to his liking.

You continue to buy stationeries for him. Any fancy notepads or post-its that caught your eye at a store, every time you give them to him, he would thank you. Then proceed to never use them. Perhaps, the ones you got were too fancy? He seemed to like simple and practical items. Next time you got plainer ones, just simple squares of plain paper, he still left them untouched.

Maybe, you needed to find higher-quality ones. But if he didn’t like them then why does he keep accepting them? Should you try your luck with pens instead, he does go through quite a few. Ah, the sentiment from the very first time you met him still rang true to this day. Alhaitham is a weird Alpha.

He was an enigma to you.

You were an enigma to him.

Alhaitham wasn’t sure when it started, but his mind grew curious about you. Perhaps it’s because he read through his collection of books, or maybe because things at work have been dull lately. Thus, he deduced it was only logical that you started to pique this interest in a bored mind. You lived in the same house and slept in the same bed. With you constantly being in close proximity, of course, he will want to learn more about you after more than three years together.

One of the best ways to start studying you would be to start with your bookshelf. Alhaitham vaguely remembers you saying that you were interested in books, yet in all these years in the same space he hasn’t ever seen you touch your own shelf. What a pity, he could’ve used the extra space for his own books. Running a finger along the row of books, stopping on a random one he made his decision.

Your taste in literature is, how should he put it, very different from his own preferences. The descriptions of the actions taken by the Alpha main character and his Omega lover were idiotic, to say the least. The lengthy declarations of the love and affection they held for each other, and the sentences riddled with exaggerations and rhetoric. The romance between the characters was the priority of the novel, thus the plot suffered greatly from it.

In his opinion, the book was a mess. Yet, he didn’t once feel as if he had wasted his time. Alhaitham discovered a new side to you, is this the type of novel that interests you even as a Beta? The soft taps of your feet suddenly paused as it rounded the corner into the living room. Alhaitham looked up to see a tense look on your face as you stared at the novel currently in his hands.

No words were exchanged between the two of you as you continued to stare, looking at the book then back at him. It was only for a minute at most, yet it felt a lot longer before you turned on your heels without so much as a word. It was brief, but Alhaitham thinks he saw the tips of your ears flush. Oh, did he stumble upon a guilty pleasure of yours?

His actions must have been the cause of this deviation from routine, Alhaitham concluded while staring at the stack of books presented to him. Even on birthdays and holidays, gifts weren’t regularly exchanged between the two of you, so this was certainly a surprise. You were looking at him with eyes urging him to take the heavy books from your hands. He couldn’t refuse the offer.

What came next was even more of a surprise, you sat on the usually empty sofa and pulled out a book of your own. The cover was different from the ones lining your bookshelf, the colors were much simpler, he also notes that the book comes from Fontaine. You were quiet and focused on your own novel, it didn’t cause any disruptions to his sacred reading time so he didn’t say anything about it.

Soon your curled form on the sofa became a regular sight to see. Every now and then you’d readjust your position, trying to find a comfortable way to hold your book while also relaxing. Alhaitham subconsciously scribbles down brief notes on the book he holds in his other hand. Yet this time when he looked down, he had recorded this small detail about you on the paper. He felt your eyes glancing over as he swiftly crossed out what he had just written.

A few days later you gifted him more books along with a new notepad. Now there's an unequal exchange happening. You have now gifted him many items, and he has yet to give you anything in return besides a simple ‘thanks’. What should he give you? Alhaitham pondered the question for a bit.

He realizes that he doesn’t have a firm grasp on your likes and dislikes. Should he try books? No, he’s not familiar enough with your taste in literature to confidently gift a book you’d enjoy. If there was something that you liked, you’d just buy it right then and there with no hesitation with your own money. He thought about it a bit longer.

When you came home from a particularly tiring day of work you’d often have a small take-out bag in your hands. The frown on your face would melt away the moment you pulled the padisarah pudding from the bag. Alhaitham opened his eyes, he has found the gift to give you. But from which cafe did you get that dessert?

“Oh?” You looked at the padisarah pudding currently on the kitchen table.

“It’s for you.” Alhaitham didn’t look up from his book.

“Thank you. Actually, I have something for you as well.” You began to dig through your bag.

Alhaitham glanced up to see you present him a new notepad and a stack of stick notes, the green paper embossed with gold detailing. He hasn’t even touched the first notepad you had gifted with a pen, and here you were giving him another. Now the current gift balance is even more off.

You took your first spoonful of the pudding, his teal eyes secretly peeking at your expression as you processed the flavor. You furrowed your brow slightly holding the spoon in your mouth, then shrugged your shoulder as you took another bite. Your face didn’t light up like when you ate the ones you bought.

Tsk, this means Alhaitham bought it from the wrong store. He knows he could simply just ask you which place made your favorite pudding. However, he finds the opportunity for experimentation in front of him more interesting. He wonders what faces you’ll give for each variation of the dessert.

He gained more knowledge about you, you have a sweet tooth. He already guessed from your fondness for a certain dessert, but those were a treat for once in a while. You liked fruits, often snacking on them when you were bored on your phone, or as a late-night snack when reading.

“Mmmh.” You looked down at the zaytun peach in your hand.

“Is something the matter?” He asked, placing his cup of coffee down.

“Which vendor did you get this peach from?” You looked over at him.

“Why? Is there something wrong with the quality?”

“No, I like it. It’s got the right amount of firmness and sweetness.” You took another bite.

Alhaitham made sure to only get zaytun peaches from that specific vendor.

Currently, the head secretary was facing a small dilemma. On his desk he has amassed quite a collection of stationeries. All in part thanks to you, he took some of the notepads and sticky notes to his office, your gifting habits slowed when it looked like he was using them. The ashen-haired man could not pinpoint where this sudden obsession of giving him stationeries came from.

Although, he has to admit it is quite amusing to watch the expression on your face as you watched his every time you handed over a new office item. It reminds him of a cat presenting its owner with shiny objects it had found, waiting for its human to react. But the current gift exchange ratio is still off.

His teal eyes scanned the report that had been placed on his desk earlier in the morning, there were a lot of important details between the lines on the pages. He should list down the details on a note before passing it on to the CEO. A hand reached towards the pile of post-its on his desk, courtesy of you, before it stopped.

‘It would be too much of a waste to use good quality paper for such a tedious task.’ He reasons as he used one of the subpar post-its provided by the office.

Dropping the report off at the CEO’s desk before he headed out for his lunch break. Walking to his favorite cafe, a familiar flash of color caught his eyes, a florist was selling potted pardisarahs. You did always seem to admire the colorful flowers that decorated the top of the dessert.

He stood there on the street contemplating the plant. Padisarahs are fickle flowers, needing a specific blend of soil and precisely measured amounts of water. Too much sun and the fragile petals will burn, too little and the vibrancy of its leaves fade. He concluded that he didn’t want to bestow such a hassle on you.

Returning from his lunch break to his office, Alhaitham was greeted by a great violation of his personal space. Covering his desk were stacks of new proposals and applications, those weren’t out of the ordinary. But the colorful squares plastered all over each new proposal were:

Please approve these proposals secretary Alhaitham! They are very important! ASAP

Here are the calculations of the research funds for next year, take a look at them - T

Alhaitham you better approve my application this time, the project is already delayed and I filed this paperwork twice! If you have any respect for your senior then approve this as soon as possible! - K

Head secretary, these are the new amendments to company policies. The legal team is awaiting your approval before we proceed with the implementation. - C

They used the stationeries that you had gifted him to write nonsense. They had the gall to ask him for favors after they touched his desk without permission and wasted such pretty paper.

Every proposals on his desk got thrown in the trash without so much as a glance. Nothing got approved, next time they should carefully consult his listed work hours outside the office.

He didn’t think he’d have to make a sign that said ‘do not touch the items on my desk’ to a workplace of grown adults, but he was very much contemplating it now.

Later that night, his annoyance from earlier in the day melted away once he cracked open the new book gifted to him. Your form comfortably wrapped in a light quilt as you cradled yours. The minutes turned into hours, the silence comfortable like the heat from a fireplace. A soft snap echoed through the room, your hand moving towards your face from the corner of his eye.

“Is something the matter?”

“Mm? Oh, no. The ending was just sad.” You wiped a tear from your other eye.

He learned something new about himself today, he didn’t like seeing you cry.

You really should’ve known better. Like Icarus, you’ve flown too close to the sun. The glue binding the wings of maturity and sanity you’ve crafted started to melt and fall apart, causing you to plunge down. Falling back into the obsession of ‘love’. What started as just one book, turned into two, turned into four. Now your once sparsely populated shelves were crowded with new romance titles of all sorts.

“You’re rather late today.” Alhaitham’s voice made you freeze in place.

Why did the living room have to be so close to the front door, maybe you should’ve snuck back in through the back door. Sneaking back into your own house, did you revert back to a teenager while in your fourth year of marriage?

“Sorry ‘bout that, I got caught up with friends.”

That was a blatant lie, your poor friends were dragged into your mess all because you couldn’t be honest. You weren’t in their company, no, you were in the theaters watching a film alone. But how could you ever admit to him that as the Alpha and Omega lovers danced on the screen, you pictured your faces over theirs?

Alhaitham acknowledged your explanation with a small hum, never looking up from his book. Good, because you were certain if he did, he would’ve seen right through your lie.

Was your handsome husband the spark that rekindled your obsession? Or was it the stories you’ve been consuming that made your heart thump harder in his presence?

You weren’t sure which was which, but you couldn’t deny the truth you’ve buried. You were in love with Alhaitham. It was an undeniable fact. From the beginning, you’ve always liked him. His quiet demeanor, his baritone voice, and his teal-orange eyes. But now you were in love with them, every aspect of him. You hated how helpless it made you feel.

But you secretly liked how good it felt. After years of dormancy, you finally felt it, the rush described to you in those stories. That can’t sleep love, that delicious burn of pining, the itch in your chest as you laid in bed next to him. Two quilts defining the unseen boundaries of personal space, you longed to creep over it but you lacked the courage.

What does he smell like? The same shower and laundry products were shared between the two of you. But that is not what you meant. What did his pheromones smell like? Was it a cool fresh scent, cool like the minty streaks hidden through his ashen hair? Or was it deep and woodsy? Maybe he smells like the pages of an old library book.

You used to pity your Omega classmates, for you knew the stigma and inconveniences they will face in their lives. However, right now you envied them to the point of nausea. They knew what Alhaitham’s scent was, but you don’t. Why did you have to be a Beta?

The demon known as insecurity you thought you’ve left behind was actually lurking in your shadow the whole time.

Maybe you should check yourself into the Bimarstan, the fever of love feels as if it’s melting your brain. His gaze felt piercing now, his accidental skinships seared your skin. You had no one to blame but yourself, Alhaitham is not at fault, you were the one who fell into the fire as he sat in his place on the couch unaware. Even after four years you still couldn’t be honest with your own husband.

Feelings were never discussed because he believed you had a mutual understanding that this was for convenience.

You can’t tell him you wanted more. How can you tell him you wanted more? There’s already a wall four years in the making, too great to overcome.

‘I need to rein myself in’ Alhaitham thought as his eyes followed your figure through the crowd below. It was a slow Friday at work so he decided to walk away from his desk, arriving at an overpass that looked over the streets of Sumeru. Something compelled him to look below, and under the golden sun there you were, and by your side was another Alpha.

Dehya is her name, a good friend of yours that you introduced once before leaving for a birthday celebration. A good friend who had the privilege to ruffle your hair and loop an arm around your shoulders as she ushers you into one of the many stalls filled with glittering trinkets.

His hand tightened its grip on the railing, why did she have privileges he was denied? Alhaitham felt he was stalking his own wife. Idiotic really.

Skinship was not commonplace between you, an unseen glass wall defining the boundaries of your personal space. Whenever his skin met yours, you’d flinch and pull away as if you were burned. He always just apologize and the two of you would move on without another word. Hell, even if his eyes lingered on you for too long you’d tense up.

It’s been happening more often now, is it because his eyes started wandering more towards your figure or how his hand itched to hold yours?

Were you scarred by a past relationship? Were your flinches the remnants of a darker period in your life before him? His jaw clenched. By pulling a few strings he had pulled up more files of your past, to satisfy his mind’s hungry, but there was nothing. It only made his curiosity hunger more, or was it something else? Alhaitham wanted answers to why you hated his touches and stares, yet wanted to be in his presence and give him gifts.

There was only one conclusion he could come up with: you liked your personal space. And he will respect it, but why did your friends not have to?

There was now a knot in his stomach as if a beast was clawing at it, maybe he should call off work and head to the Bimarstan. He disappeared from the overpass.

–

“Haitham.” He heard your soft pounds on the door.

“Leave some hot water for me.” He could envision the pout on your lips, and that’s what brought him over the edge.

Watching with shameless eyes as the evidence of his guilt washed down the shower drain, running water masking his pants.

If he can’t touch you, that doesn’t mean he can’t think about you; words spoken like a true creep he silently chastised. Alhaitham doesn’t care to admit how long he’s been doing this, perhaps his primal urges weren’t as controlled as he believed.

It’s strange really, you’re a Beta yet you make him have these urges.

You don’t produce any pheromones to cling onto his body. But by using the same shower products as you, it serves the same purpose of scenting no? A foolish voice Alhaitham pushed from the back of his mind, taking another pump of your body wash. Maybe he should check the dosage of his inhibitors.

–

The only opportunity he got to observe you closely was when you were asleep. ‘You’re quite the heavy sleeper’, he notes as his eyes traced over the subtle curves of your cheeks, the contours of your nose, and the softness of your lips.

It’s accepted wisdom that Omegas were the most beautiful people. The top A-list singers and actors being Omegas only solidified the belief. However, Alhaitham’s confident your existence could challenge that very notion.

If it weren’t for your distinct lack of a scent, any Alpha could’ve mistaken you for an Omega. Even his guests were taken aback by how your appearance didn’t match your status as a Beta.

There was a pang in his chest. If he felt those urges when looking at you, then it’s guaranteed that others, specifically other Alphas, have felt it as well. But why? He trusted you to stay true to your convictions of loyalty and integrity… He wasn’t so sure about others though. Even with the inhibitors coursing through his system, he couldn’t seem to push down that annoying hand clawing at his back.

You stirred, huddling into your blanket more, snapping his attention back. ‘Oh, you must be cold again’. The houses in Sumeru were designed to keep hot air out, so when a northern cold front blew in, you definitely felt it.

Quietly getting up, Alhaitham pulled the spare quilt out of the closet, gently layering it over your curled form. The knit between your brows disappeared as a pleased expression overtook your face. Were you having a pleasant dream? Was he ever included? Subconsciously his hand began to reach for your face, only to freeze.

‘Personal space’ he reminds himself as he strolls out of the bedroom.

It makes no sense to him, you’re a Beta. In fact, the reason why he married you in the first place was because he believed your lack of pheromones and lack of heats won’t disrupt his peaceful life. The matchmaker had called him her biggest challenge, persevering only because of a promise made to his late grandma.

So, how were you still corrupting his thoughts like this?

He should read to calm his mind before he attempts to join you back in bed. Thoughts running laps in his head, analyzing then overanalyzing every last explanation he could come up with.

Alhaitham’s greedy hands made their way over to your bookshelf, perhaps he could sedate a bit of his curiosity as well. Pulling the Fontainian novel that marked the start of a tradition.

Under the golden glow of a lamp he flipped through the pages, it seems that your taste in literature has matured. Teal eyes skimming past a paragraph before going back to do a double take.

‘Love born in the brain is more spirited, doubtless, than true love, but it has only flashes of enthusiasm; it knows itself too well, it criticizes itself incessantly; so far from banishing thought, it is itself reared only upon a structure of thought.’

He reached an epiphany.

It looks like you’ve been careless recently. Too distracted by the task of masking your infatuation of your husband from your husband, and maintaining your independent mask to realize that Alhaitham had once again finished all his books.

The novel right in front of you, moved from its place on your shelf, was proof of that.

‘It’s a good book’

Your husband’s neat handwriting was present on the small mint post-it plastered on the front cover. It was a simple gesture yet it made your heart flutter as if you had won the achievement of a lifetime. You finally got Alhaitham to use one of the many stationeries gifted to him.

Carefully peeling the paper off the cover, then folding it to tuck it away in your pocket.

“At least it’s not another light novel this time.” You affirmed, sticking the book back into its spot.

“The mahamatra have announced a total recall of the inhibitors distributed during the past three months, with reports-”

You were lost in your own little world, contemplating just which books haven’t you bought for your husband yet. Tuning out the sounds of the bookstore playlist and TV as your eyes scanned the titles of the thick books in front of you.

Would he like Sci-Fi? Sure it’s not academic but maybe it’ll have nuggets of information in there that’d catch his interest.

The weight of the books made your bag strap dig into your shoulder, seeing the house in the distance, you picked up your pace for the home stretch. Tomorrow marks the start of a four-day public holiday, and after the crunch time your boss put you through to tie up loose ends. You needed it.

Turning the keys in the knob you entered your peaceful little safe haven.

Only to immediately feel the heaviness in the air.

Your husband should be home by now, yet the spot on the couch remained empty. His shoes were placed at the door, albeit messily. Kicking off yours as you placed the bag on the coffee table, you navigated your way through the halls.

The atmosphere was quiet, but not the comforting silence you’ve experienced for the last five years.

“Haitham?” You called out, about to turn the corner into the master bedroom.

His black button-down and slacks were thrown all over the floor, a large lump was currently huddled under your blankets on your side of the bed. ‘Oh, he must be napping’.

Two years in, Alhaitham slept shirtless again like he did before you came. Never before were you grateful that your job made you get up at ungodly 8 am, but having an extra 30 minutes to look at his godly body as he slept made mornings bearable.

Still, the air didn’t feel right and even if he was messy sometimes, your husband never just threw his clothes on the ground when the laundry basket was right in the corner. His breathing also seemed labored.

“Haitham, are you sick?” Reaching a hand into the cocoon of blankets, feeling for his temperature.

A sharp inhale was heard as his breathing stilled, his skin was burning. You moved onto a different patch of skin to confirm it. He must have a fever.

“You’re burning! I’ll get medicine and water, don’t move.” Your hand quickly retracted.

Just as your back was turned towards him, like a monster from beneath the blankets a pair of arms entrapped you.

“H-haitham?” His touch was searing you.

“W-woah?!”

In an instant, you were pinned under Alhaitham’s towering form, the soft sheets cushioning your body. The place where he once curled was twisted and balmy. Your eyes shoot up at him as he hovered above, your body stiffened. A scarlet haze offset the brilliant teal hue you’ve grown so infatuated with, a sense of impending danger ran down your neck.

He doesn’t have a fever, he’s in a rut.

Your thoughts were running wild, bouncing around in your skull as his labored breathing above continued. In all five years, you’ve never seen Alhaitham go into a rut, he was always diligent with his inhibitors. You’ve never been around an Alpha in rut, after all, you were never the one to trigger it.

It’s embarrassing really, you had no idea what to do, all your experience with ruts came from those steamy light novels.

“H-haitham, let me up, I’ll get your inhibitors...” You tried to tug your wrists from his grasp.

Big mistake. His grip tightened as he buried his face into the side of your neck, a low rumble was felt from his chest. Alhaitham had his nose right up against your neck, taking deep inhales as if he was trying to detect something.

You shivered as your body temperature shot up, you’ve never been this close to him, the brushes of his ashen locks against your neck made your legs rub together.

“Hey…” You moved your neck away, the sensation was almost overwhelming.

“Stay still.” A baritone voice vibrated against you.

On command your body stilled, muscles refusing to move as Alhaitham continued his search. His breath was against your ear, tickling it as he took deep inhales of your hair. A low groan was heard as if he was frustrated with something.

“Not enough.”

“Huh?-”

The sound your blouse getting torn off your body resonated through the air. Even will a layer of clothing gone, your body felt hotter. Just as you began to process the loss of your favorite blouse, another rip rang in your ears. Your skirt was now gone as well. You were so vulnerable under his touches.

Dragging his nose down from your neck, over your covered breasts, then along your belly. His hands now gripped your thighs as he shifts down to part them effortlessly, eyes focused on your covered cunt.

Your mind was groggy, reactions dulled, why was the room so hot? Suddenly you felt his nose against your cunt, taking long whiffs of the slick that was beginning to wet the fabric of your panties. That was enough to spark action from you.

“H-hey!” Your hands pushed against his messy locks as your thighs tried to preserve your dignity.

“Ah!” You couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your mouth.

In protest of your attempt to shut him out of heaven, Alhaitham bit into the soft flesh of your thigh. Hazy eyes looking straight into yours, warning you to not do it again. His intense gaze made something deep in your cunt pulse.

Sharp teeth released soft skin as his attention was back on the honeypot in front of him. Your panties offered as much resistance as wet paper against his swift tug, the fabric now on the floor in pieces.

Your cunt twitched with each hot breath that hit against its wet lips. With the thin barrier gone, Alhaitham can now freely bury his nose against your honeypot, tingles ran up his spine as the sweet musk of your slick sent his olfactory system into chaos. His throat felt parched as if he had just trekked the desert, he needed a taste.

“Ah! Ahhh,” your back arched as his hot tongue lapped against your cunt.

Alhaitham was slurping up your slick like a depraved beast, wet muscles sliding up the whole length of your slit, occasionally dipping into the contracting hole. Your whole body shook when the smoothness of his tongue ran across your clit, toes curling in the air.

The shower head couldn’t bring out this level of pleasure. The fantasies you envisioned during your long showers couldn’t compare to the scene happening right now. His ministration continued, each stroke of his tongue sending blinding waves of pleasure.

His hips were angrily rutting against the sheets, erection rubbing against the fabric impatiently. But he had to taste you more, his mind hazy as it craved nothing more than your taste. It was his first taste, but he was already addicted. Your legs tensed up in his grip as a loud whine left your lips, your body shaking as a sudden rush of slick was welcomed onto his awaiting tongue.

Your sensitive body tried to flinch away as he continued to lap against your swollen lips and clit but his iron grip on your legs didn’t let you budge an inch. Eyes rolled back as the sweet torture continued.

Your body convulsed, did you just cum again? Two orgasms sapped you of all strength, everything fell limp as your moans continued to fill the room. Your mind too foggy to even process the feeling of embarrassment. It felt so good, yet it was torturing, your cunt was sobbing for something else.

As if taking mercy on your desperation, or maybe his desperation had reached its limit, Alhaitham pulled away. Teary eyes followed his motion, watching as he aligned his length with your greed.

You’ve seen him walk out of the shower in just a towel, how did he hide this behind a puny towel?

Your cunt’s eagerness blocked any hesitation from reaching your brain as his length dragged itself against your soaked lips. The pillow behind your head was not enough, you needed something more solid to hold onto, to ground the last shred of your sanity.

Shaky hands released the plush pillows, outstretched towards Alhaitham’s immense frame. A growl ripped through his chest as he dove into your arms at the same time as his length thrusted fully inside you.

“OH!” Your fingers left deep stretches along his shoulder blades.

His pants and soft growls vibrated against your neck as your eyes rolled back again, the fullness you’d been craving has been fulfilled. The stretch burned in all the right ways as your walls clung onto his member, thick and hard. Soft legs locked around a solid torso, your body pressed against his as his frame pinned yours to the bed. Just as you were adjusting to feeling of his length inside, his hips began moving.

They were merciless, slapping against your hips and ass as the force made your whole body bounce. His length punishes your walls as it pulled out to just the tip only to be slammed back in at full strength. You clung to his muscular body for dear life, breasts bouncing out of their home in your bra.

Nonsense was spilling out of your mouth as your brain malfunctioned from the blinding flashes of pleasure. The slick slaps of your cunt eagerly welcoming his every move and the headboard of the bed knocking against the wall complimented each other.

Alhaitham’s pants were growing heavier, growls deeper as his tongue began to trace up and down your neck. The sensation along with his thick tip bullying your poor sweet spot pushed you over the edge for the third time. Walls clamping down to milk him as your legs squeezed him, the pleasure was toeing the edge of pain, much like how your brain was on the verge of madness.

Nothing interrupted the pistoning of his hips as he fucked you through your orgasm, heavy balls slapping against your swollen lips.

As the high was beginning to wear off, his pace became impossibly fast, the solid wood headboard now banging against the poor wall. Your bodies rocking together on the bed, he buried his face deeper into your neck. His teeth danced along your shoulder as your moans sang in his ears. He wanted to hear more of it.

Alhaitham’s hips slammed against yours one final time before they stilled, teeth digging into your shoulder to suppress a moan, burying his length deep inside your cunt as his thick seed spilled.

Your greed drank all of it up gratefully as your shoulder stung.

Your chest was raising and falling fast, lungs trying to hog all the air that it could hold. Heart pounding hard in your ears. Tears and drool wet your face as your head fell weakly to the side on the soft pillow. You were completely spent as your arms didn’t even have the strength to hold onto him. Limbs limp and nerves fried.

Above you Alhaitham continued to pant into your shoulder, length still buried inside.

After a couple more harsh pants and deep breaths, you felt him stir, pushing against the bed to unpin you from his frame.

“Ah-hh ahh~” You felt your walls clench once more around his length as he pulled out, a thick string of mixed slick connected his tip to your hole.

Your body longed for rest as you turned onto your stomach, face pressed against the pillow, still panting heavily as your eyes closed.

Two large hands grasped firmly onto your hips, startling your consciousness back as you looked over your shoulder.

Alhaitham still had that scarlet haze in his eyes as he lifted your hips up, watching as more mixed fluids began to tickle out of your abused hole. Your eyes shifted down and you gulped, he was still erect.

You were quite foolish to believe that one round was enough to satisfy an Alpha in rut. However, if it weren’t for his firm grasp on your hips, your body would’ve collapsed back into the sheets.

A loud whine left your throat, vocalizing your exhaustion to him. It’s been a long time since you got any action, the two of you didn’t even consummate on the wedding night, it was spent packing your stuff.

You tried to shift your hips out of his grip but he only held on tighter, earning another whine.

Soft kisses were pressed against your back as if he was trying to soothe you. It was pathetic how weak you were to them, instantly melting against the pillow. Maybe you can last one more round you thought as his length rubbed against your slit again.

Thanks to the extra prep and lubrication from the last round your walls were much more accustomed to the stretch as Alhaitham entered once more. His beginning thrusts were much more slowed and controlled than before as you moaned softly into the pillow.

This couldn’t last sadly, as his lust overtook him again and his hips once again slammed into you, forcing a choked moan from you. Using his hands, he held your body up as he pulled all the way out until the tip then cruelly forced it all back into you.

You wanted to beg him to rest, but you also wanted to beg for more. Your sloppy cunt accepted all his punishing movements with gratitude as the wet walls thanked his length with kiss-like contractions.

Your eyes were rolled to the back of your head, mind absolutely blank, the pleasure must’ve melted your brain. All you could do was grip the tear-soaked pillow and let out moan after moan, the poor wall still getting beaten by the movement of the headboard. Tension building up once more in you.

Somewhere along the lines, you felt his teeth graze against your nape as his thrust picked up the pace once more, a sign that he was close to finishing. He was panting against the back of your neck as if he was searching for something. With a particularly harsh snap of his hips, he bites deeply into your nape as he releases a fresh batch of seed.

“Why?”

You felt the frustrated growls against your skin as he bites again at a different angle. The pleasureful pain seems to have jump started your brain for just a second.

‘Oh, he’s trying to bond.’ You felt Alhaitham’s soft locks brush against your shoulders as he continued his fruitless search.

You were once reminded that you were just a Beta, unable to form a bond. He could bite your neck as many times as he wanted. His teeth can pierce the flesh until the skin was raw, but it would be all for naught. He’ll never get that satisfaction. You don’t have the glands to be bitten, to be marked, to be bonded with.

You weren’t an Omega. There was now a heavy knot in your chest.

–

You weren’t even sure what day it was, all you can recall is the hazy cycle of intense lust followed by a lull before the next round. During the lull, you did your damnedest to keep yourself and him hydrated, often having to lure him into the kitchen for some much-needed water and quick snacks.

The air of the house was thick with the musk of sweat and desire, very nerve of yours fried from pleasure.

Once again your body was pinned under his, legs thrown over his shoulders as his hips desperately snapped against yours.

Every article of clothing has long since been removed, allowing your breasts to bounce along with every thrust. By now you were certain the shape of him was pounded into your cunt. The soaked sheets below clutched in your hands as if to ground you from floating up to cloud nine.

The harsh pants and low growls above you increased in frequency in time with his thrusts. He must be close again.

Fortunately, you’ve noticed that the breaks between each round have been getting longer and longer. A sign that the rut was ending. If you survive this you’ll bring offers to the sanctuary of surasthana to thank the archons for their blessing. Maybe after the feeling returns back to your legs of course.

Suddenly your face was pushed into the side of his neck, the scent of sweat now stronger.

“Bite.” His rugged voice commanded.

Ah… he wanted you to mark him. With clumsy teeth, you felt around the smooth muscles. You can’t sense where his glands were so you just bit down at random along his neck. It was useless, you knew it, but still...

Alhaitham pushed himself eagerly against your teeth, encouraging you to bite harder with a growl. You obliged.

His teeth ran along your raw neck, already covered in his bites and hickeys, searching for one last spot. Your jaw clamped down harder as his teeth sank into your neck one last time. Hips stilling as one final wave flooded into you, it was hard to tell when one orgasm ended and another began.

Your hands found purchase around his back again, holding him close as you panted against his neck. Against yours a frustrated growl vibrated once more, his muddled mind confused as to why no bond has formed.

“Why?”

There was that cold pierce of pain again.

The large hand on the back of your head held your nose close against his searing skin. It could’ve just been your fried nerves, but as the darkness overtook your vision, you could’ve sworn there was a warm and opulent scent of wood and books.

If you were reborn, in the next life could you recognize his scent?

Your eyes opened up to blinding sunlight. Your body ached as if it had been through hell and back, bones threatening to turn into dust at any second. The large bed messy and only occupied by one body. Shifting your sight away from the stinging light, his empty pillow came into view.

You weren’t sure what came over you, but even as your muscles screamed you pressed your nose into the cold pillow and inhaled. Nothing. Just sweat and disappointment.

Just what were you hoping for? That a few nights of passion would birth a miracle? That you’d somehow turn into something you couldn’t be? In the end, you were still you. Those novels must’ve rotted your common sense, stupid.

Bitter tears fell onto the pillow, you didn’t have the strength to hold back the sobs as they wrecked through your body.

Yes, you were stupid. So stupid from the very start to believe that this could work. That maybe after a few more years, maybe at the seven-year mark, he could fall in love with you as well.

The dream of his tender eyes looking into yours with love crumbled right there in front of you.

A cup clanged onto the desk in the room as footsteps quickly made their way to your side, a blurred figure knelt down.

“Is your body hurting anywhere? I’ll take you to the Bimarstan.” Alhaitham gently sat your covered figure up, trying to see the extent of the situation.

Your small hands pushed against his solid frame, his motion stilled as you refused to allow him to see your face.

However, Alhaitham knows he didn’t have the right to. Not only did he invade your sacred personal space, but he did so like a wild beast. Not allowing your body to rest or replenish itself as he trapped you to the bed for almost four days. He deduced that you must be hurting, that you must be scared of him now, and that must be the reason behind your tears.

Guilt was suffocating him. Those stupid urges, that stupid rut. His stupid hands refusing to let you go.

Throughout your whole marriage, you had put on the mask of independence, someone who did not need to lean on a husband for comfort. Yet here you were, bawling out your eyes in front of him like a child. Your façade has been cracked, tears soaking into his pillow and snot trickling down under his unwavering gaze.

What was the look on his face right now? You couldn’t see through the mirage of tears blurring your sight, not that you had the courage to face him. Was it disappointment? Right now as he observed your vulnerable figure, did he feel lied to after all these years? Like he had just discovered the defects in a product?

The freezing water of self-loathing, doubt, and insecurity filled you like a boat whose haul had been pierced by the jagged edges of an iceberg. You were drowning, your limbs kicking and thrashing with all their might trying to resurface.

For a brief moment, your face bobbed above the crashing waves.

“Let's get a divorce.”

Those were the only words you managed to choke out in the space between your sobs before your head disappeared under the murky waters once more.

His whole body froze as he processed your words. Alhaitham had already deduced why you wanted to end this relationship, he had hurt and scarred you. Yet, like a child, he still wanted to clamber for more answers.

“Why?” He said through clenched teeth, you couldn’t see it but his hands had a slight shake.

“We’re not satisfied, Alhaitham. I-it’s not working, I-i can’t satisfy your requirements. I-i can’t make you happy, I-i can’t make you love… me.” Hiccups breaking up your sentences.

That was it, you spilled out all your secrets. Your lungs and throat hurting as if you just pushed salt water out of them.

Alhaitham’s hands were balled up so tightly his nails broke the skin on his palms.

So, you weren’t happy. He couldn’t make you happy. He felt as if he had dropped down to the tier of a fool. A fool who didn’t know how to make those bitter tears of yours stop.

He released you.

You felt his presence disappear from your side. The touch of warmth he provides was now gone as coldness fully engulfs your whole being. The tears just wouldn’t stop. Is this what those heartbroken sobs actually felt like? Why did you ever think this was something to be desired? You truly were an idiot.

You weren’t sure how long had passed, a few seconds or a few minutes, but his presence returned back to your side. He looked as if he had something in his hands. Were they divorce papers? Ah, Alhaitham was a man who always had a plan for everything. Did he have a premonition that this marriage was doomed from the start? How long has he had them?

Alhaitham didn’t feel like he had the right to touch you. However, he needed to do something to make you look at him. Please, just look at him. His large hands tenderly grasped yours as if they were made from glass. You still hid your face from him.

“I won’t bind you to a life that brings you unhappiness. But.. You have to tell me” His voice wasn’t as steady as he wanted it.

“If you want strolls through the market, tell me. If you want to be woken up with sweet whispers, tell me. If you want to hold hands across a date night table, then tell me. You have to tell me what will make you happy.” He wasn’t sure if those were your unfulfilled desires or his.

You could only tighten your grip on his hands as you sobbed harder.

Your statement from before was incorrect. Alhaitham is also at fault for this pain you were going through. If there was one feeling that was just as addictive as love, it would be hope. Please, please don’t give false hope.

“I-i’ll disrupt your-r life…” You managed to choke out.

His thumb gently stroke the back of your knuckles.

“How could you ever disrupt something you’re a part of?”

Your hesitant eyes finally met his teal gaze, his eyes soft as opposed to their usual stonewall stare. With the walls down, you were given a glimpse into the whirling emotions behind them. Endearment, sincerity, and hurt danced along the green-blue irises.

“As for your last reason, here. I should’ve just given this to you directly.” His hands let go of yours, picking up the item he had brought.

He handed over the book you had placed back on your bookshelf a few days earlier, the one he had left his note on. So, he didn’t have divorce papers prepared? Your trembling hands accepted it, and through your teary eyes, you finally noticed the torn-out green and gold note contrasting between the cream pages.

Tenderly, you unfolded the piece of paper retrieved from the book. Quickly blinking to clear your eyes from excess tears. In the neat script of Alhaitham’s handwriting:

‘Love born in the heart as opposed to Love born in the brain:

When one loves at first sight or goes looking for love, then one is essentially just attracted to someone for the sake of being with someone. Not looking objectively at any warning signs or relationship flaws one has with someone. If there are any issues, the bias of infatuation blinds you to them.

So that's loving with the heart, based solely on carefree addictive emotion, even though it feels stronger and more enthusiastic on the surface.

Love from the brain is more logical and objective. You take the time to understand a person, seeing them for them with unbiased eyes. You understand them thoroughly and can maturely and objectively work through the turbulence of life together. Individuals who set aside precious time to manually repair creaks, maintaining the structural integrity of a home that shelters their affections.

With the diligence of a conservator preserving ancient scripts on papyrus that should have been disintegrated long ago.

The latter rather than the former describes the bond forged between my wife and I.’

Your grip crumpled the side of the paper.

“What does this mean?” Hesitation in your voice as tears blurred your vision of his teal eyes.

“I love you.” He confessed. Three words have been overdue for years.

‘Don’t be filled with false hope’ Your mind echoed.

“I’m not an Omega…”

“That’s not a requirement for love.”

That was it. It was as if you’ve been waiting all this time for him to say those words. The words of affirmation you didn’t know you needed. The key to free you from the cage of insecurity you’ve built for yourself.

Your feet now touched the warm sandy bottom as air rushed back into your lungs.

It looks like you’ve figured it out. Regardless of what definition of love has been pushed by external forces, these feelings he holds for you are objectively pure and true love. His hands tenderly took yours away from its grip on the paper. If you wanted him to, Alhaitham will spend the rest of his life proving it to you. He’ll conduct every experiment and collect all the data points to present to you.

How silly, a red thread spun by two pairs of hands, created through undying trust, respect, and admiration had already tied the two of you in a bond. The love you were trying so hard for had always been right in front of you for five years.

The blanket draped behind your head resembled a wedding veil as the fabric folded and gathered around your trembling body. ‘Beautiful’ He thought.

The room was a mess, sheets and clothes strewn all across the floor. The musk of lust still hung heavy in the air, the residue of sweat and other fluids still clinging to skin. Your hair was all over the place, tears still pouring from your eyes, his hair was no better. But in this moment, there was nothing more Alhaitham wanted to do than this:

“Will you take me, Alhaitham, as your lawfully married husband? To love me through sickness and health, through poverty and wealth, and through sun and rain?”

Sobs were still wracking through your body, words unable to form in your mouth but you were nodding your head enthusiastically. Your hands felt small firmly holding onto his larger ones.

“I, Alhaitham, will take you as my lawfully married wife. I will love you through sickness and health, through poverty and wealth, and through sun and rain… I do.”

It was a silly sight to behold, but in this moment as he finally sees a smile break out on your face, it means the world to him.

There’s a saying from a well-known poet from Fontaine it goes as follows:

‘Love is being stupid together.’

And clearly, the two of you have been very stupid. Oh so stupidly in love.

Fin~

Authors note:

The long quote was taken from Stendhal’s The Red and The Black

The last quote is from Paul Valery

Also communication is v important to any relationship, people can’t read minds Alhaitham. If you made it this far, thank you and hope you enjoyed!

DON’T PLAGIARIZE, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORKS ON DIFFERENT PLATFORMS.

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