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theeveninghour · 1 month

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All My Dreaming

Summary: You came to the Night Court as a fugitive and quickly became a valued member of the Inner Circle. Azriel’s love for you has burned brightly in his chest for nearly two centuries now, but when an unknown force threatens to take you from him, he must fight to keep you at his side.

Pairing: Azriel x Winter Court!Reader

A/N: I don’t use Y/N here just out of personal preference, but the IC do call reader “Little One” because she’s younger than them by like a century or so. Also, slight timeline deviation? I kind of just made the ACOTAR timeline work for me a little bit but the important bits are there mostly. If it’s not totally accurate, please suspend your disbelief and go with it. I also took some serious liberties with Prythian geography and Azriel’s shadows in this. I had to force myself to stop because I could’ve written five more scenes, so let me know if you all want a part two. I got nasty Azriel thots to spare, baby!

WC: 16.1k ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW: 18+, Minors DNI, violence, death, descriptive gore, lots of time jumps, torture, smut, p in v, fingering, porn with plot, mating, slow burn, angst, friends to lovers, declarations of love, loving sexy times, miscommunications abound, Azriel being a big ole softie, Azriel being a big ole bitch to bad men, Azriel really going tf thru it emotionally, and Azriel being mouthy as fuck. Just girly things.

Part 2

Azriel hadn’t seen you in four days. Nearly a week had passed since you’d left. Rhys mentioned a mission but no additional details, Cassian avoided the topic, knowing how frustrated his brother got when you were gone, and Feyre was decidedly unhelpful the few times he’d brought you up. His shadows searched aimlessly, they’d found nothing as far south as Winter Court, daring not venture into Autumn, and knowing damn well you’d never step foot into Spring. You were slowly driving him mad; the bond in his chest aching at the loss. Even if you hadn’t recognized the golden thread linking the two of you, he felt it.

Gods, did he feel it. He’d often lay in his bed at night, eyes tracing the intricate foil patterns of the ceiling tiles. When sleep evaded him, as it frequently did, he’d grasp the thread tightly in his minds eye and tug it experimentally, begging you to see, to notice it was him that loved you with a ferocity that rivaled the sun. Try as he might, the responding tug never answered, his call into the void not returning an echo.

The second it snapped for him, Azriel had resolved himself as unworthy, not of someone like you. You were powerful, breathtakingly beautiful, intimidatingly intelligent, and you regularly brought men to their knees, both in political circles and on the battlefield. Rhys relied on you as much he did Cassian and Az, you were a core member of his court, a valuable asset, and the love of Azriel’s life. Azriel avoided the latter subject entirely, choosing instead to silently stoke the ember in chest with unyielding affection; his own private paramour.

When you’d joined the Night Court, you’d been on the run from both Winter and Autumn Courts. Your father was a high fae noble in Winter that had attempted to arrange a marriage to the second youngest Vanserra of Autumn. The family’s brutal reputation was legend and you were terrified. You were young then, barely a century old, and upon your introductory visit to the Autumn Court, Beron sought to make an impression by presenting a welcome gift. That gift? The public torture and execution of a servant he’d deemed traitorous.

His gleaming eyes remained on yours with each cast of the fire whip he’d conjured using his cruel magic. He’d cracked it again and again until blood splattered and the servant was left flayed beyond recognition, flesh searing, and finger tips twitching from the remaining neurons firing in his brain. Only after his death did Beron announce his crimes. He’d stolen a parcel of food from the royal pantry to feed his wife and small child. Your stomach churned at the thought of the now widow and fatherless child waiting at home for the male that would never return.

It had all been a test to see if you were worthy of the most violent and petulant of the broody sons, and you’d passed, holding Beron’s stare and keeping your back straight as you faced his wrath head on. You’d cried yourself dry in your room that night though, sobs wracking your form until your chest ached, grief for the male that was lost. Fear settled into your heart, terror of the family you were set to marry into.

You’d ran at first light, leaving with nothing but the clothes on your back. Your Winter white blonde hair streaking across the red and orange forest as you bolted. Beron sent his dogs after you. You still had the scars lining your calves from where they’d gotten too close, brought you down into the dirt, jaws snapping and tearing at the muscly sinew there. But you’d fought. You’d kicked and clawed like a feral child of the woods, screaming with a sense of self preservation you’d never known you possessed.

Rhysand had found you half dead, starving and a little savage in the mountainous border between the Day and Night Courts. He’d made a bargain with you then; he’d save you, if you worked for him. Word had already spread of the ousted Winter female and spurned Autumn princeling and Rhysand was impressed you’d lasted in the wilds undetected for so long. The small star flecked tattoo of the Velarian night sky that lived on your wrist since was the only evidence of his deal.

You’d long moved past such a bargain. Rhys had offered to lift it half a dozen times in your first hundred years within his court, but you hadn’t minded. A reminder, you’d insisted, a mark of your loyalty to the family that didn’t lead you the wolves with such glee.

You’d settled into a routine in Velaris, training with the Illyrian brothers and charming Amren with your intelligence and wit. But you’d become the closest with Mor, who felt a kinship in your shared traumas. She’d soothed you in those first years, fiercely protecting her friend when Eris Vanserra had shown up in Hewn City as an emissary to inquire on your new position in the Night Court. It was that same night that Azriel realized how fucked he truly was.

Eris smirked at you and your back straightened, face growing cold. He spoke, “My brother was wondering where you’d scampered off to.” A laugh followed, “You couldn’t stomach our court, but found yourself bound to the Court of Nightmares? My my, what a wicked turn of events.”

Rhysand had spoken then, wearing his High Lord mask well, “Watch yourself, Eris. You know not what our Little One can do.” Eris laughed, the sound laced with the dark spark of a threat. “Little One? Fugitive and Night Court whore, I must tell your father. I’m sure he’ll be proud to hear of his daughter’s fate.” Azriel’s wings pricked, then fluttered, he would’ve killed Eris right then for you. Your hand came to rest on Rhys’ arm as you stepped around the throne to level your accuser with a look that should’ve turned him to stone.

“I am no male’s whore and I belong to no court except Night. Report what you wish to my father, to your father, your brother. May you all rot.” You’d spat at his feet then, and the room heated twenty degrees, Eris’ barely kept rage simmering under the surface, fire blooming on the fringes of his figure.

He stepped forward and Cassian, Azriel, and Mor all shifted, prepared to take out the threat. Eris’ eyes tracked their figures, gauging the situation. He knew better. Any attack here would mean war on his court and his father have his hide for that. You stepped forward to meet him, knowing he could make no move without endangering his position. You kept your spine straight and narrowed your gaze at him with such contempt he would’ve been impressed at the show had you been anyone else.

“I will say this once Eris Vanserra,” you held up one long manicured finger, and Azriel traced the action with thinly veiled obsession. “Leave my court or I will be the one to kill you. I’ll rip your spine from your body and I’ll do it with the same glee in which your father,” you’d spat that word, the hatred you held for Beron burning your throat as the words exited your mouth, “killed that male for feeding his family.” You took a step closer, summoning a dagger in your left hand, and rolling it your palm. “Trust that we have no tolerance for your family or your bullshit in these lands.”

Eris had good enough sense to step back then, peering around your form to where Rhysand sat, legs spread, slouched in the throne, smirking at your display of dominance. Azriel to his right looked on in pure male satisfaction, you were a powerful little thing and he was rather fond of you in that moment. Eris spoke up, “Should I note that the Night Court threatens other Courts for sport?” Cassian and Azriel rolled their eyes in synchronous fashion, but it was Mor that spoke with the dark edge of a threat, “Only ones that deserve such brutality.” Her father, Kier, stood in the gathered crowd and sneered at the tone of her voice.

You’d done the unthinkable then, winnowing behind Eris, grasping the male by his red hair and dragging the dagger to his neck, digging in enough to cause the male’s heart to speed, a line of scarlet leaking from the press of your blade. You could feel the heat in his skin, the flame licked at your hand as you released him with a shove.

You brandished your dagger as if it was an extension of your hand, the tip of the silver blade glinting with red from the now healing cut at Eris’ throat. “Come for me again and I’ll kill you.” It was then that Azriel noted the slight tremble in the hand at your right side and he wished on some distant star that he could reach out to you, soothe you, tell you that he was proud and you defended yourself and your court beautifully.

As if his wish was granted, he felt his chest give way to a canyon of emotion, heart stuttering as the bond fluttered and snapped, thrumming with affection for the female standing at the center of the room. He had selfishly allowed himself to hope it would be you, in the dark of the night when he was alone and his shadows whispered to him of your whereabouts. Since he’d met you, he fostered that small romantic notion of soulmates. His most private desire.

Eris whirled on you with a roar, grabbing your throat with hands of fire. Azriel felt the breath leave him, and he took two then three steps forward before he could think, hazel eyes alight with a fierceness you’d not yet witnessed. Your eyes found his and you held up your hand to halt his movements, the one that had trembled seconds earlier, now steady as a stone. You’d looked at Eris then, raising your chin defiantly, a slow smile overtaking your face as you once again spit at the Autumn male before winnowing back to your place in front of the dais. Rhysand raised to his feet then, taking steps down to meet you. His hand grazed your arm this time and his mind reached out, “Very good, Little One, very good.”

“As the lady said, Eris, come to my court in search of her again, and she’ll be the one to kill you.” Rhys circled Eris, tracking like prey. “But not before I sanction it for laying your hands on a member of my house.” Rhysand spoke with such quiet cunning, it was no wonder he excelled as High Lord. Eris snarled then before winnowing out of the Hewn City and Azriel quickly set his shadows to following him, ensuring he was actually gone.

You returned to Mor’s side and the shameless pride that set on your face the rest of the night made Azriel want to kiss you. Gods, he was fucked..

You’d flirted with him constantly in the first century you’d been in Velaris. You had laid it on thick too, dragging a long nail up his arm, your mouth sliding into a smirk after one too many drinks at Rita’s. Azriel had always feigned friendly indifference though, a mask he slipped on that was equal parts protection as it was self soothing. His only crack coming in the form of a slight tremble in his pinky as he tried to gather himself to avoid closing the space between you, touching, grasping, feeling.

He’d worn black leather gloves around you in your first few decades with them. His hands always held the most insecurity for him, the silver scars and warped skin a brutal reminder of his childhood. It was after training one day, as you all packed your small bags and threw towels into bins that you’d asked about it.

“I don’t mean to pry, and feel free to tell me to fuck off, but why the gloves?” You asked quietly leaning against a wall less than ten feet from him. He’d stiffened and breathed tightly, “it helps with the work.” That had always been his excuse, wearing gloves when killing helped reduce the touch memories associated with the act, and it was partially true. But he wasn’t on a mission right now, and you called him on that, “are you spying right now?” Your lips quirked, “should I tell Rhys?” Your words were mirthful, but your eyes held nothing but empathy for the Shadowsinger, sometimes Azriel wondered if that was your Cauldron blessed gift.

You’d reached down then, rolling up the left leg of your training leathers. You’d resumed your full height and rotated your calf outward for his eyes to survey the damage there. Ragged silver keloid scars marked the skin from your ankle to the soft back of your knee— a knee he’d admittedly fantasized about many nights in a row now. He’d selfishly thought about trailing kisses up your leg, pausing to nip playfully at the soft skin at your knee as he made his way north, up your thigh. He breathed deeply banishing those thoughts as he took in the site of your marred skin. Judging by the heavily keratinized markings, the injury had no doubt been painful when incurred originally. Azriel’s fingers twitched again, wanting to touch your face, hold you as he kissed away your grief.

“From Beron’s dogs,” you breathed, rolling you shoulders, as if shaking the memory from your mind. “They wouldn’t heal when I was out there,” you clicked your tongue, “granted I was starving,” you sighed, “but that’s a story for another day.” You looked at him then, and he had to steady himself at the emotions pooling in your eyes.

He’d already planned on killing Beron if the opportunity presented for what had happened with Mor, but for you, he’d make it hurt. He’d drag it out and make it slow. He’d torture him for days, flaying skin from bone, taking fingers then limbs and when at last he begged for death, Azriel would set the dogs on him and laugh as they tore him apart. He felt a long repressed need for vengeance creep up his spine, and he hated to acknowledge what its presence meant in regards to you.

“It’s okay, you know,” you’d said, head lolling to the side as you watched him, eyes swimming with a gentle affection, “I’ll never judge you for something like that.” Azriel squeezed his eyes shut as he turned his head from you and breathed in tightly. How did always manage to be so fucking disarming and vulnerable? That must’ve been a gift too.

He pinched the middle finger of the right glove and pulled it from his hand, grasping his now exposed fingers into a fist, knuckles cracking. He extended that arm out, palm up as he let you view his deepest insecurity, the thing he hated most in his appearance.

You’d stepped forward, looking at his palm. Your hands went to reach but you’d paused, looking to his eyes as you silently asked permission to touch. He nodded stiffly, watching you with the same intensity of an animal being hunted, prey ready to bolt at any moment.

Your fingers touched his hand, and he felt the connection race up his arm and to his chest, settling in his heart. Your eyes studied, and you rotated his hand, fingers gently tracing from his wrist, to knuckle, to fingernail in reverence. You covered his hand with your own, moving your eyes to his hazel ones. “Are they dead?” You’d asked seriously, and he stuttered a shocked laugh. “Yes, Little One, they are,” he answered, a small smile playing at his mouth. The two of you far too similar it seemed. “Good,” you’d said simply before kissing his knuckles and pulling the glove back on for him. The action was quietly intimate, and Azriel should’ve kissed you then. Mother knows he considered it, eyes watching you with rapt attention as his heart sped up and breathing shallowed.

“If you two are done flirting, lunch is ready,” Cassian announced from the doorway, breaking the spell you were both under. You’d jumped and laughed freely at the large male smirking at the entrance. You grasped Azriel’s hand tightly in affection before releasing it to turn on your heel to exit the room, passing by Cass with an eye roll, thumping him square in the chest.

Cassian looked to his brother as he walked into the room and his face split into a shit eating grin. “Let’s go, loverboy,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Azriel glared, scoffing as he followed behind you, praying to whatever Gods were listening that he’d get you alone again soon.

In your second century with the Night Court, you’d lessened the blatant flirting and settled into loving, easy friendship. You regularly attended balls and galas in Hewn City, fitting into such pomp with practiced ease, but always with a dagger strapped to your thigh, ready to cut a male down in seconds. Those events were almost routine at this point: Azriel would save you a dance, and you’d move together in a slow ritual that you’d both perfected over the years, he’d bow as the violinist played their final note and resume his place on dais at Rhys’ right. His eyes would follow you the rest of the night, as you spoke in an airy manner to various high fae, glaring at any male whose hands ventured too close to his mate.

Nights when the Court held parties at the House of Wind were different though. You were far less rigid, finding it easy to exist without scrutiny. Those were the nights Azriel’s eyes rarely left your form as he watched obsessively from the corners of the room.

“You’re staring,” Rhys chimed from his place next to Azriel, eyes not leaving the crowd as he spoke to the Shadowsinger, mouth smirking. Azriel was staring. You’d worn cobalt blue tonight, a lovely color on your skin. His color on your skin. Mother above, the male possessiveness that crawled up his spine was unreal. Mate, mate, mate, his shadows had sang in his ear. He wanted to pluck the eyes from every male in the room for even glancing in your direction. He wanted so much more than that too. Your breathy sighs as he marked you, your moan as he made you come undone, his name crying from your lips as he ate his come from your cunt after. Azriel had a million and one scenarios running through his head. He yearned to make each one of them come to fruition too.

He hadn’t answered Rhysand, so the High Lord tried again, “you really should tell her, but please,” Rhys closed his eyes with a grimace, “quiet your thoughts first, for Cauldron’s sake.” That got Azriel’s attention, his back straightening and mental shield slamming down. His eyes squeezed shut, almost as if he was in pain. “I cannot burden her with that now,” he said, “not with war at our doorstep.” Indeed, the second war with Hybern creeped ever closer, disappearances of other high fae occurring daily. Whatever they were planning across the sea, it was going to bring Prythian to its knees.

Rhysand sighed then, feeling older than his 500 years. “Be that as it may, we should hold those we love tighter.” Rhysand looked to Feyre at that moment, his eyes meeting his mate’s, as he sent a strum of warm affection down the bond. She smiled and returned it cheerily. He turned back to Azriel, “if it all ends tomorrow, I know my love and she knows me. That’s all we can ask for in this immortal life.” Azriel looked back to you, and your eyes were already on him, tracing the shadows that wound around his chest. You met his eyes and winked, before turning back to Mor and laughing freely.

“I thank the Cauldron daily it was you that found her in those mountains, Rhys.” Azriel spoke quietly, admitting a small secret he’d not told anyone. Rhysand softened, and clapped his friend on the shoulder, “As I am, brother.” Azriel nodded, letting the conversation die between himself and the High Lord as he drained the drink in his hand and moved down the steps in your direction.

You’d been in conversation with Mor when he approached. She was telling you of the seamstress she’d been seeing, and how happy she was. Azriel cleared his throat from behind the two of you and you turned to meet him, taking in his appearance with wide eyes. “Ladies,” he started, bowing to you and Mor, who snorted at the silly formality. “And that note, I’ll be taking my leave. I’ve got a lady to see,” she said with a wink and a flourish of her red dress. You laughed and shook your head before turning back to the Shadowsinger. He’d caught you staring earlier and your heart had nearly jumped into your throat, before Mor mocked you lightly, diffusing the tension.

“Hi Az,” you greeted softly, before dropping your empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and thanking them. Azriel watched you closely, noting the revealed skin that shifted with each movement, committing every angle and freckle to memory.

“You want to get out of here?” He dared ask, jerking his head toward the private balcony on the House of Wind. You raised a brow, Azriel? Asking you to leave? Together? You heart was back in your throat and you thanked the Mother that you’d taken your time getting ready that evening. Nodding, you grasped his arm as he offered it to you like a proper courtier. He walked the two of you up a round of stairs and away from the eyes he’d threatened earlier in the night. Voices dulled the more space you put between yourselves and them and you couldn’t help but start to sweat a bit at the thought of being alone with Azriel.

You’d been friends for nearly two centuries, but you’d always felt a connection with the male. Your heart thrummed with a warm, golden affection when he got close. It made keeping a clear head during training hard. It made sitting next to him at dinner difficult. And when he’d looked at you like you hung the moon as you danced earlier in the night, it made you want to take him to bed and ride him until he moaned your name. You breathed deeply. ‘Focus,’ you chided yourself, ‘he is your friend, for Cauldron’s sake.’

He led you out onto to the balcony and stopped at the railing before looking up at the star flecked sky. “This is my favorite part of the House,” he said eyes scanning the sky before looking back to you as you watched him. A blush crept up his neck, before he cleared his throat again.

“I’ve always wondered what it was like to be able to fly, you know,” you said quietly, removing your hand from his arm, rolling up onto your toes, leaning against the stone railing, and looking out on Velaris before scanning your eyes up to the three stars that shone brightly overhead. “When I was a child, I met a Peregryn from the Dawn Court and thought she had the most beautiful wings I’d ever seen.” You chanced a glance his way, “I’d not met an Illyrian yet.” You reminded with a smirk, bumping his arm with fondness. Gods, he was in trouble.

“I asked her what it was like and she said it was the purest sense of freedom possible.” You glanced down at your feet, “I spent the next year wishing for wings.” He mulled on your words. He wanted to say something cheesy as Cassian would, like ‘I’ll be your wings’ but he couldn’t, so you continued on.

“When I was a little older, I witnessed a blue skinned lesser fae’s wings ripped from his body as punishment and it was the most gruesome thing I’d seen at that point.” You took a shuddering breath, “I cried for him that night. The lost freedom. How maddening it must’ve been.” You looked at him then and he watched you with furrowed brows. “How does it feel for you?” You asked softly, eyes tracing the shine of his wing. ‘Magnificent things,’ you thought. You remembered seeing his wings for the first time and thinking the Peregryn had finally moved to second place in your mind.

Azriel had to gather himself as he spoke, “It’s… everything.” He said quietly adjusting his body to extend a wing. “My ability to fly came in late,” he said, and your eyes widened, you hadn’t known that. “My childhood was… rough and I didn’t learn to fly until I was nearly grown.” He laughed, scuffing the toe of his boot, wings folding in behind him. “It was a lot of crash landings those first months.” You snorted, mental image of a younger Az, landing in a puddle of mud crossing your mind.

“I was never a proud Illyrian, not like the others,” he continued, “it was hard for me to reconcile my heritage and our traditions.” He looked to the cityscape then, “but the stronger I got, the more I understood why flight was so crucial to my people.” He looked to you, eyes shining, “it’s the closest we can get to the stars.”

You leaned over the railing again, staring wistfully at the night sky, the moon reflecting on your skin. “Will you take me someday? Flying, I mean.” Did you not know Azriel would give you the world? Of course he’d take you flying. He’d give you the moon, the stars, walk through fire and back, anything. He nodded, “you say the word, and I’ll fly you the the ocean and back.” The smile that broke across your face crippled him, his knees threatened to give way.

“Yours are my favorite,” you murmured softly, eyes glancing from his wings to his face. Azriel blushed in full, pink speckling his neck and cheeks as he laughed. “Don’t let Cass hear you say that, he’s got an ego,” he said, a smile remaining at his lips. You liked him like this the most. Loose, smiling, free. You reached up then, cupping his reddened cheek, thumb stroking. “I don’t care,” you said smiling, “it’s the truth.” Azriel swallowed roughly, staring at your eyes swimming with an emotion he knew, but was much too stubborn and scared to name.

Just as your hand went to retreat, he grasped it between his own. “You can touch them,” he offered, knowing damn well the implications, “if you want,” he added. Your eyes widened. Mor had mentioned once that Illyrian’s wings were ‘sensitive,’ was the word she’d used. It was a sign of great intimacy and trust to allow another to touch them. You felt the air shift between you two then, as you nodded.

He extended a wing toward you. This felt so much like the first time he’d shown you his hands all those years ago. Your hand crept forward and gentle fingers met the red gold membrane that stretched between two metacarpals. Your fingers traced the membrane in smooth circles, then traced up to the crest. Azriel felt his breath gutter out of his mouth in a loud, choppy exhale, and he felt himself harden at the sensation of your fingers against the most sensitive portion of his wings. You gasped and jerked away at the sudden noise, before apologizing. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten carried away.”

Azriel shook his head, “It’s not that, they’re sensitive.” There was that word again, only it made you think of how they’d been shredded before the King of Hybern, and you opened your mouth to apologize again, but he stopped you short. “I haven’t allowed another to touch them freely since my mother.” The admission floored you, your gut giving way with a breath.

You looked to his eyes then, the air between you had shifted again and you knew this was it. This was the moment you’d waited for, he was going to kiss you. Mother, it felt you’d waited a millennia, and he felt just the same. But that kiss never came. Instead, Azriel went stock still, his eyes now on the House behind you.

“Azriel?” You questioned. “It’s Rhys,” he said tightly, “he’s summoning me.” You understood then. He looked to you desperately, eyes a little wild and apologetic. “I’m sorry, I have to go to him.” You nodded, you both worked for the High Lord, you’d never get in the way of Azriel’s allegiance to his Court. “Of course,” you said quietly, taking a step back and swallowing down your disappointment.

Azriel took three steps towards the entrance then stopped. “I’ll take you,” he turned around, backing his way to the arched stone, but keeping his eyes on you for a moment longer. “When I get back, I’ll take you flying,” he offered. Another smile etched its way across your face and Azriel took a long moment to memorize it greedily. “It’s a date,” you said confidently. He beamed then, turning on a heel to pick up into a jog, Rhys no doubt shouting to hurry up.

That date hadn’t happened though. The second war with Hybern broke out days later and you both barely made it out alive.

When Feyre had come to Velaris after Amarantha’s defeat, you’d accepted her with easy friendship. You saw Rhysand, your longtime friend, overcome with love for his newly found mate, and you couldn’t help but love her as well. You’d shared your story with her and the two of you bonded deeply over her art. She’d offered to teach you to paint, and you began taking lessons in your off time. Rhys had been Cauldron blessed with her and you reminded him daily.

Later, when Feyre’s sisters joined their little unit, you’d been the first one to break Nesta’s tough exterior. The female saw parts of herself in you and you’d gotten her to crack a smile when you mocked Rhys’ High Lord voice at dinner one night. Elain had been a tougher sell, but you’d tried, along with Azriel, to bring the female out of her shell. The day she joined you in the library to read, you knew progress had been made, even if you two had only sat in silence a few feet apart, a small smile gracing her features.

You left her book recommendations with small notes and she began to do the same. Your friendship playing out in the margins of the library’s tomes. You won her over with silent conversation. Nesta noticed, of course, and she looked to you with gratitude as she saw her sister’s eyes brightened and skin began to return to its normal, healthy color. The night Azriel mentioned it as you walked down the hall toward the dining room for the family meal, you’d shrugged. “I met her where she needed me to,” you’d said quietly, glancing to your feet. Azriel smiled, a Cauldron blessed gift indeed.

Dinners at the House of Wind were by far Azriel’s favorite version of you. You’d laugh with abandon, smile splitting your face, showing every tooth as Mor cracked a joke and leaned against you for support, one too many drinks in her system. The first time he’d seen that smile, it blinded him, and he’d gone a little dazed, staring at you in wonderment. Rhys had interrupted his train of thought with an invasive insertion of “How quickly she reduced you to a puddle, brother.” Azriel had scowled at Rhys then, mental shields firming up, but not before he heard the distinct sound of his High Lord laughing at the Spymaster’s defensiveness.

Indeed Azriel was gone for you. When Cassian finally confronted him last year about the truth of his feelings, Azriel saw no point to avoid it any longer, not after his brothers had also found their mates. “Our souls are one in the same, she’s my mate,” he’d said pensively, as if he was letting his deepest secret breath in the light for the first time in centuries. Maybe he was. He’d made Cassian promise on his life not to tell anyone, and despite being the biggest gossip in the Inner Circle, he kept his promise. He was thrilled for his brother, knowing you were the perfect match.

Little did Azriel know, everyone else was already more than aware of his affections. Amren had figured it out a century prior when Azriel had tended your needs as you’d recovered from an injury sustained during a mission. He’d fretted around you like a mother hen, buying you flowers, sweets, and books while you were bedridden. The female had watched and hummed with a raised eyebrow as Azriel exited your room for the fifth time in one day, wringing his hands with worry despite Madja’s clean bill of health.

Feyre had figured it out the same year she’d returned from the Spring Court, just before the second war with Hybern. She’d seen the way his eyes had followed you in the war room Rhys had created to host strategy meetings. Saw him lean towards you when you spoke, saw his wings flutter when you finally cast your gaze to him, eager for your attention. More than anything, she’d seen his shadows, desperate little things, sneaking across the floor each night, sidling up your ankles and wrists, begging for your affection. You always laughed and nuzzled them as the wound their way to your hair and Azriel went a little soft at the sight.

When she told Mor, the blonde had laughed, “They’ve been circling each for two hundred years now, eventually one of them will cave.” Mor leveled a sardonic look at Feyre then, “and when they do, we’ll all have to relocate to the River House for a year lest we be subject to the frenzy.”

This mission should’ve been simple. Rhys had asked you to check out reports of rogue soldiers spotted making their way towards the border of the Night Court from the Day coastline. The intel he’d received had mentioned three to four maximum, all of them drunken ex-Hybern loyalists. It should’ve been a matter of locating them, spying for a day or two, then winnowing in to neutralize any threat. Gods, this was far from simple.

When you’d arrived in the region, the hairs on your neck rose, the air itself feeling off. As you tracked them, you’d noticed intentional attempts to throw you off course. A carelessly trashed map, crudely laid tracks in the opposite direction, Dawn Court wine bottles that had been emptied and tossed about. They knew you were there, and you quickly realized that a trap had been laid. You backed off them then, staying further than you’d have liked, but trying like hell to make them think you’d given up.

On your fourth night following them, you’d drifted away to an inn two towns over, desperately seeking a place to bathe and rest, even for a few hours. As you bathed, you felt watched in a way that discomfited you to your core, and your dagger stayed within arms reach the rest of the night. Suddenly, the role you’d played for the last two hundred years had left you entirely ill equipped for whatever was happening here.

You’d left out before dawn, refusing to lose an ounce of daylight, but as you hit the tree line, readying yourself to winnow out, you’d noticed it. Hanging from a tree, a hundred yards away was a piece of clothing, your clothing. Clothing that should’ve been in the pack at your back. Your breath shuttered out of you as you opened your mind to Rhys, asking for back up. You were in over your head and you knew when to admit it. There was no pride in getting yourself killed.

As you turned to move back to the inn where you could wait out contact from Rhys in a public location, you were met with a pair of shining blue eyes. You stepped back, keeping your grounding, readying for a fight. “You’ve been following us,” the stranger said calmly, beginning to trek in a slow circle around you. You opened your mind to Rhys again, “Help,” you called. Rhys answered this time, “Where are you?!” It was a frantic response, you never asked for help, Rhys knew this. “Just off the coast, beneath the mountain range, Day court border, 400 hundred paces from the inn” you spoke to Rhys in choppy thoughts, trying to establish a location before all hell broke loose.

“I have,” you finally answered the stranger, whose lips quirked at your voice. He stopped circling and resumed his stance in front of you, blocking passage to the inn. “Why?” He asked and you tried to keep your mind steady as you answered. “You’re trespassers in these lands” you stated simply, shrugging a shoulder up. He grinned then, “had your lot not gotten in the way of our King’s plans, these would be our lands. We were promised them. I was personally promised the Court of Nightmares.”

“Well,” you shrugged feigning indifference, “that’s not how the war played out, so I will have to ask you to leave,” you offered in your most bored political tone. The same tone you’d used with High Fae that ran off at the mouth in Hewn City. The stranger cocked his head the side then, eyes twinkling, “I don’t think I will.” At that moment, one by one, additional soldiers appeared from the forest line. One, then four, then ten, until near twenty stood around you, looking on with hatred.

Shit.

“We’d hoped for the Illyrians, but it seems your High Lord sent us a treat instead,” the stranger said with mirth. You steeled your spine, looking down your nose at the stranger, “They’re going to kill you, you know.” He’d laughed at your threat. “I think not,” he said as as arrow was released from your left, finding purchase in your shoulder. You folded over on yourself at the blow, and looked up baring your teeth, before drawing your dagger and rushing the stranger with a feral sound.

Five more arrows hit you before your blade could find its target. One into your hip, two in your back, a fourth piercing your in your upper thigh, until the last burrowed into the back of your knee, bringing you down in front of him — forcing you to bow to the stranger. The arrows were laced with faebane you realized as you’d begun to feel its effects in your blood. Your power waning quickly, thoughts becoming murky.

You released another shattered thought to Rhys then, “Tell him, please,” you begged raggedly. Rhysand came back with a rushed and tight, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” You shook your head, there wasn’t time. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” He responded but it muddled out, sounding like words shouted through a pool of water, then your brain fell quiet. The line severed.

The stranger lifted your head, hand wrapped around your throat, as he bent to meet your crouched form. “I’ll be sure to savor this,” he smiled and the hilt of his sword came in fierce contact with your forehead.

It was the early morning on your fifth day away when Rhys heard you. “Help,” it had come through so clearly that it startled Rhys awake and set his heart to racing. You’d only asked for help once, during the war when you were overrun and near death. You were in danger.

He’d sat up straight in bed, Feyre still sleeping silently at his side, hand resting on her pregnant stomach. “Where are you?!” He’d asked down the line, a little frantic, remembering the state he and Azriel had found you in last time. Gods, you’d been run through on a Hybern soldier’s sword, the damage was astronomical. Azriel had nearly killed everyone within a mile radius at the sight of you.

You recited your location in short bursts and Rhys focused on the bond of your bargain, using it to locate you with more precision. He reached out to Azriel then, “Get Cassian and meet me downstairs. Be ready to fly.” Azriel responded an affirmative and Rhys rushed around his room, grabbing his dagger lined belt, and using his magic to dress in his leathers quickly. He winnowed to the base of the stairs and was glad to find Cassian and Azriel waiting.

“Tell him, please” you begged into Rhys’ mind then, words growing ragged. Rhys’ eyes slammed shut with a wince and he attempted to reassure you, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” Rhys opened his eyes and looked to Azriel, who was watching him with anticipation. You responded again, words growing murkier, a little warbled. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” Rhysand felt sick. “We will find you and you will tell him yourself,” he spoke but the bond was dead, silent, foreboding. Rhys thought he might vomit.

He looked to Azriel again, “It’s her. She’s in trouble. We have to go.” Azriel’s face darkened with a thunderous ferocity. Mother help the males who’d harmed you. “Where?” He asked, voice deep with the threat of murderous violence. “The wilds on the border, off the coast of Day. I’ll winnow us as close as possible.” Azriel nodded his acquiesce and lifted a trembling hand to his hair, running scarred fingers through the strands. Cassian spoke then, “we will get her back,” he’d said softly as Rhysand put his hands to the two of them, preparing for the jump. “And we will kill every last one of them,” Cassian added darkly as blue-black shadows encased them and they disappeared.

You awoke with a start, gasping like you’d been underwater. Your shoulders ached from your position. You pulled on your hands only to realize you were shackled to a tree somewhere deep in the forest, the same forest you’d been on the outskirts of earlier. You looked up to the sky, trying to find the sun to gauge how much time had passed. The sun had long moved past midday and was sinking towards the evening horizon. Your throat tightened. Where was Rhysand?

“Nice of you to join us,” a voice spoke. It was the stranger again, he emerged from the camp set two hundred paces to your left, hidden by shrubs and underbrush. You got a good look at him this time. He was tall, leanly muscular in a way that reminded you of Lucien Vanserra. His hair was a dishwater blonde and lacked any sheen, falling in choppy dry waves around his shoulders. His face was gaunt, eyes sunken, bruised with a lack of rest, and his cheekbones were sharp, giving his face an angle that made him look harsh and unforgiving. Though he carried himself with confidence, you noticed a slight, barely there limp in his right leg, an old wound perhaps, one that never healed correctly. You noted that for later, if you ever got out of these shackles.

You leveled a glare at him that you hoped looked more fearsome than you felt. Mother, your bones ached and your wounds throbbed. “I left the arrows in, but broke off the shaft. Didn’t want to have you healing too quickly.” He spoke with nonchalance, while polishing a dagger, your dagger, you realized as your eyes focused. You pulled at the shackles above your head, and the stranger chuckled at your attempt.

“What do you want?” Your voice croaked, mouth dry from disuse. The stranger laughed, pointing the blade at you, “I want my fucking court and you’re the key to getting it.” You shook your head then, “I am nothing.” The words sounded foreign on your tongue, a lie on some level, you knew this, but you would be damned before you gave up your family. The stranger clicked his tongue at your response, shaking his head.

“Surely you don’t believe that? The High Lord doesn’t trust easily, you’ve been seen with his entourage. The Shadowsinger’s whore.” He squatted a few feet from you, eyes tracing from your tied hands down to your face, pausing at your breasts, before trekking down your stomach, thighs, and calves. He was sizing up how much fight you had left.

Your brain had short circuited though, the Shadowsinger’s whore. Mother above, you’d never even kissed. How long had this male watched you and your family? How had none of you seen it? A bitter laugh wretched from your lungs, “sorry to disappoint, but the Shadowsinger isn’t mine.” No matter how desperately I’ve wished it so, you added silently.

The stranger grinned then, “if you are truly nothing, then I’ll make this a little sweeter.” He took steps towards you, raising the dagger to rest at your chin, the blade pressing to the underside painfully. “You’re far too pretty to be nothing.” He ran the blade along the column of your throat, resting it against your sternum, between your breasts. You pushed yourself further into the tree, back protesting as the arrows burrowed deeper with the movement. You didn’t like the new angle this interaction had taken and your fight or flight instincts were screaming.

You attempted to reach out to Rhysand, but the bond was dead silent. Your breathing hitched at the realization that you were truly alone in this. The stranger chuckled, dragging the blade down your chest, slicing the leathers, letting the fabric fall open and reveal your undergarments to his greedy view. Your legs moved to kick, but you realized quickly they too were tied. The blade came to rest at your bare stomach, and the stranger dug it in below the navel, causing blood to pool there. You winced, but made no sound.

“Ah, I was hoping you’d be louder than that,” the stranger smirked, “I’ll have to try harder.” He backed up then and pulled a whip from his back pocket, unfurling it with a crack. Your eyes widened and you brain went silent, fear overtaking your senses. “There it is,” his smile gleamed with violent delight, “there’s the reaction I was hoping for.” He reared an arm back before cracking the whip in your direction. The leather made contact with your torso, a stinging slice appearing along your rib cage. You jerked, but bit your tongue.

He cracked it again and again until you were bloody, slices in your leathers, festering wounds along your breasts, ribs, and stomach. You’d counted to 25 lashes before your brain gave out and your vision blurred from the pain. You looked up to the sky wearily. The sun was gone and the stars were slowly appearing. You smiled at them, remembering Azriel’s words from that night all those years ago.

You hoped he’d forgive you for not telling him. You hoped he’d understand your fear in revealing that secret, that the bond had snapped for you during the war. When that Hybern soldier’s sword pierced your armor, running through your body to the hilt, and he’d let out a fearsome bellow from across the field at the sight. You felt it then, the golden strumming taking the form of a fated thread linking you two. You been near death when he and Rhys had found you and the only thing you could do was smile. Such an ironic thing it was to die in the arms of your mate.

Your head lolled to the side as exhaustion threatened to overtake you. “Azriel,” your thoughts ventured, calling down the bond he didn’t even know existed, “I love you.” Darkness swam in the corners of your vision but you swore you felt his responding tug. The Mother was kind for granting that hallucinative mercy in your final hours. Your body gave out, slumping against the shackles and darkness overwhelmed you.

Azriel was furious. No, furious wasn’t the word, he was a walking time bomb. You were gone. His mate was missing and he was going to explode. As he’d arrived with Rhys and Cassian to the location you’d given them, he could smell you. His eyes searched frantically around the scene before him until they zeroed in on an item hanging from a branch a few dozen paces out. Cloth of some sort? He approached and could detect your scent on it, realizing quickly it was your clothing. A ripped cotton blouse. His fists clenched and he vaguely heard Rhysand speaking to his left. “They must’ve captured her here.” Rhys crouched down to the ground, two fingers swiping the dirt there, before bringing them eye level to examine sample. “Blood,” he muttered, rubbing the hand on the leg of his pants, “she was injured.” Azriel’s heart thundered, he was going to fucking explode.

He set his shadows work, surveying the forest with rapid precision. They’d cover more ground this way, an army of three operating like a whole infantry. By the time the sun rose to midday, Azriel was ready to begin screaming. They trekked further into the forest, following a line of smoke that was miles deep, originating at a camp somewhere far into the wilds. His shadows murmured to him of a small band of males there, of you, shackled to a fucking tree, arrows buried in your back. He’d nearly lost the contents of his stomach at the information and set to a run alongside Rhysand and Cassian.

As the three approached the encampment, the sun was nearing dusk. Rhysand had commanded the halt and strategize. There were roughly twenty-five men, all armed. They couldn’t enter this blindly and infuriated, they would lose if they weren’t careful. Azriel hated admitting he was right, his instincts screaming otherwise. Mate, mate, mate, his heart pounded.

They backed off to a thousand paces out, close enough that they could hear if the troop vacated the premises. As Rhysand and Cassian spoke quietly, Azriel felt his heart thrum. The golden thread there had pulled him closer to you and he could tell you were still alive. Though Rhys couldn’t reach out through your bargain, Azriel’s bond was still alight and warm, he stroked it with gentle affection. You might not feel it, but Gods he would try.

As the trio retraced their steps to the camp, stars were just beginning to light overhead and Azriel grasped his daggers tightly, knuckles cracking around the hilt. He was going to kill them. Kill them all brutally for taking you, for touching what was his. When they were within a stones throw from the camp he heard it, heard you. “Azriel,” you whispered into his mind. He went stock still, spine ramrod straight, fingers trembling as they gripped his knives. The golden bond vibrated in his chest, and he felt you reaching out through murky waters, against all odds. “I love you,” you said with a soft exhaustion before your side went dark. Azriel’s breathing guttered and he felt high on mirthroot, sick from fae wine, and enraged to the point of explosion all at once. His blue siphons flared brightly from the surge of power. He closed his eyes and reached out to you through the bond, tugging on the thread connecting your souls. He was coming. He was going to save you.

Rhysand looked to him then, curiosity swimming in his eyes as he took in the Shadowsinger’s sudden stop. Azriel opened eyes, irises alight with fire and shadow, voice grinding with dark threat, “Let’s go.” Rhys nodded and Cassian drew his knives.

They moved with brutal efficiency, killing male after male until none remained alive. Some had begged, others shouted and scattered their belongings as they set into a run. His shadows had caught them, twisting around their ankles and dragging them back to meet their fate, daggers slicing throats from ear to ear until blood poured like a prized hunt being slaughtered, the Illryian’s hands grasping and snapping necks like twigs. It was a practiced routine for the three of them, who’d trained since they were teens.

As they stepped through the shrubs to find you, Cassian gasped and Azriel felt his lungs threaten to collapse at the sight. You’d been shackled to a tree at the wrists and ankles and whipped within an inch your life. Wounds glistened with blood along your thighs, soft stomach, ribs, breasts. There had to be thirty lashes. A knife wound was visible at your exposed navel. Your head hung forward unconscious and Azriel’s heart pounded. He wanted to vomit and his hands shook.

“She said you’d come,” a voice said, emerging from behind the tree you were bound to. The male held a dagger to your throat. This new stranger had to be the leader of this band of idiots. Azriel’s eyes followed the tip of the blade up his arm to the male’s eyes and a growl escaped him as he bared his teeth. The male laughed, “to think she said she was nothing and yet I have both the Shadowsinger and the Lord of Bloodshed before me to save her.”

Azriel’s mind latched on to that piece of information, turning it over in his head. You’d told this male you were nothing? Did you not know Azriel would do anything for you? You were everything. You were his love, light of his life, keeper of his soul, his mate. How alone you must’ve felt, how scared. Azriel’s eyes narrowed, he was going kill him.

Rhysand spoke then, emerging from behind the two Illyrian brothers, “And may I ask why you’ve abducted a member of my court?” He was in High Lord mode, tone bored, fingers picking at his sleeve. The Hybern male’s smile gleamed at the introduction, “just who I was hoping to see!”

“Hybern, the old fool, made a few promises in his last days as King,” the male spoke, digging the blade down to your chest, where it rested over your heart. Azriel stared at the blade, eyes tracing to the the hilt. That was your blade, the one he’d given you when you first arrived in Velaris, the one you wielded against Eris, the one you kept strapped to your thigh. Your own knife had been used against you.

“One of which was that I would inherit these lands after your lot were annihilated.” Azriel wanted to laugh at the male’s words, was he serious? “A dead king cannot honor empty promises,” he ground out eyes shifting to the male’s blue eyes. “A dead and headless king cannot gift you shit,” Azriel spat. The male smiled then, a feline grin growing on his lips. “Precisely Shadowsinger, a dead king cannot give me my due, but this little thing can help.” You’d made a noise then, something akin to a whimper as you came to. Eyes wincing then fluttering open as your irises found Azriel’s immediately, some preternatural magnetism existing between the two of you. Then you looked to Cassian and Rhysand, and your eyes swam with apology.

“She awakens!” The male sang, looking to you. Azriel jumped at the opportunity to send his shadows out while the male’s attention was elsewhere. They traced over the ground to you, circling the tree and working at your binds. He sent two others towards the distracted male. “Who knew the Night Court was so attached to a whore,” the male laughed, “I want my lands,” he fixed Rhysand with a glare, “you can have your plaything back in exchange for my seat, High Lord” he sneered.

Rhysand looked from you to the stranger to the shadow now creeping ever closer to the male. “You must be mistaken,” Rhys said then and Azriel’s shadows wrapped around the male’s neck and wrist simultaneously, whispering violence for touching their mate, forcing the dagger from his grasp and air from his lungs. Azriel tightened them until they heard bones crack in the male’s arm and choked sounds exit his throat, face reddening as oxygen was cut off. “I do not make deals with dim witted cunts,” Rhysand said darkness beginning to surround him, High Lord voice encroaching, “I do not entertain terrorists and I do not take kindly to threats on my family.”

‘Finish him,’ Rhysand said darkly into Azriel’s mind and the Shadowsinger moved with lightening precision, dagger find purchase as the male’s neck was sliced open and his right hand was removed from his body. The male’s body toddled forward with a choked gurgling, before falling to the ground, lifeless, blood pooling.

Azriel’s gaze fell to you and he softened. His shadows finished picking the lock of the shackles that held your arms and they clicked open, allowing your body to fall into his. “Azriel,” you breathed, voice weary with exhaustion, “I didn’t— I—“ you stuttered, pulling a shaking hand to his face. You swallowed, tracing his cheek with trembling fingers, “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” you murmured, your watery eyes searching his face, memorizing the details of his visage.

Azriel picked you up in his arms and unfurled his wings protectively. “I will always come for you,” he said vehemently, eyes watching your face with intensity. You smiled, a weepy trembling smile as you nodded. Rhysand reached the Shadowsinger’s side then and your eyes moved to his violet ones, “Hi Little One, I’m so sorry we’re late.” You let out a single watery laugh before wincing as the sudden expansion of your chest burned the wounds littering your chest and back.

“The arrows,” you gasped, “at my back,” you twisted in Azriel’s hold, “please get them out.” Rhysand leaned down to inspect the wounds. “Faebane,” he surmised, that’s why his connection to you had been severed. “We need to get her to Madja, now.” Azriel nodded, allowing Rhys and Cassian to move closer so the High Lord could winnow them home.

Landing back at the House of Wind had been chaotic. Rhysand shouted immediately to get every healer available and the dining room table had been lined with a sheet, turning the warm family room into a medical ward. You were laid facedown on the table and Azriel took to your side, scarred hands touching your face, keeping you awake as Madja worked to remove the six arrows burrowed in your body.

You’d screamed. The sound would haunt Azriel for centuries. You begged to make it stop and Madja had apologized softly as she worked faster to remove them while minimizing damage. “I’ve got you,” Azriel said softly, “eyes on me, alright?” He rubbed the hollow under your eye with a scarred thumb and you opened your eyes to lock on his. “No gloves,” you said, smiling tightly, before wincing as Madja applied local anesthetic to an arrow wound. Azriel smiled, eyes a little watery. “Not with you,” he whispered shaking his head, “never with you.” You smiled at him and the sight set Azriel’s heart to fluttering.

Later, after the arrows had been removed and wounds bandaged, you’d been given a strong herb tonic for pain that set your head swimming as exhaustion overtook you. Azriel carried you his room, laying you gently onto the mattress and covered you with the duvet. He leaned down then, breathing in your scent as he placed a kiss to your forehead, nuzzling his nose to the Winter white hair there. He would tell you. When you awoke, he would bare his soul to you.

You woke with a groan. Fucking Gods, your body ached with the effort it took to roll over. “Easy,” a voice came from the corner of the room. Your breath gasped out of you as your eyes raced to the figure there. “Azriel,” you breathed. The male smiled warmly at you and stepped forward to rest at the edge of the mattress. You pushed up in the bed, the wound at your shoulder screaming from the exertion. Once in a sitting position, you rested your back on the headboard as you looked at him. “For taking out a small militia, you seemed to be decently uninjured,” you said smiling tightly, memories of the stranger and his whip haunting your mind. He snorted a small laugh, “Yes well,” he looked down then, thumbs fiddling with each other, chest heating, “I had something worth fighting for.”

He looked back to you and your cheeks had grown pink, a small pleased smile at your lips. “I heard you, you know,” he said softly, turning enough to rest a hand on your thigh, thumb drawing small, soothing circles there. The heat generated in the touch sent a spark to your belly. Oh, you were fucked. “I heard you in my head, through the bond,” he said eyes watching his thumb as it traced on your bare skin hypnotically.

“You know then?” You whispered, breath skittering out of you. You were scared to death of the trajectory the conversation was taking, your heart preparing for the best and the worst simultaneously. Azriel’s eyes dragged up your form to your face and a smile broke over his lips, one that caused your heart to ignite. Your Mother had once told you the heart was an organ of fire and you’d laughed, never having cause to believe such a statement. You understood now.

“I—“ Azriel started, before clearing his throat, turning his body to face you in full, a knee pulled up on the mattress, touching yours. “In the whole time I have known you— two centuries, Little One,” he looked at you pointedly, “you have been my dearest friend, my greatest comfort, my confidant, and the person I admire most in this Gods forsaken world.” He breathed deeply, a whoosh exiting his lips as his hand tightened around your thigh. “The times when you were lost to me have been some of the most painful moments I’ve experienced.”

Your eyes began to water, and you moved a hand to rest atop his own, thumb circling the scarred skin at his wrist. He took a breath then and the air shifted between you, his mouth opening and closing, as if he was gathering his confidence for what he was about to say next. “I have loved for you so long that I’d given up all hope of reciprocation.” The words shattered through you as all air escaped your lungs, guts swooping down as heat alighted there. “I felt the bond the night Eris came for you,” he continued, eyes watching your entwined hands. Your body went still and a startled laugh exited your mouth. Azriel’s eyes flew to yours questioningly.

“Sorry,” you chuckled again, “I’m just realizing how fucking stupid we’ve been.” You lolled your to the side, watching him with loving eyes. “I’ve been in love with you for almost two centuries, Azriel,” you smiled, “I thought you wouldn’t want me.” Azriel’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing in disbelief, two then three times. You thought for a second to compare him to the guppy fish that swam in schools along the banks of the Sidra but refrained.

He pushed forward then, hands coming to cup your face, pinky and ring fingers resting in the hollow below your ear, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “How could I not? You’re everything,” he whispered, searching your face, conviction showing in his eyes. You couldn’t stop the smile that overtook your mouth as you spoke, “and you’re my mate.” His eyes moved to your lips, glazing before they moved back to your eyes. “As you are mine,” he spoke confidently.

Your eyes watched each other for a long second, “I really hope you’ll kiss me this time,” your hand trailed up his arm, fingers teasing. “Mother knows I’ve been dreaming of it for far too long.” He surged forward, lips meeting yours and you thought you might float away. You gasped and his tongue moved in, claiming your mouth, your taste with his own.

He pulled away minutes later, a little breathless, “Sorry to have kept you waiting, my love,” he spoke, resting his forehead to yours with a smile, watching your dazed expression, pink cheeks, as your lips split into a grin. Your hand moved to the front of his button down, fisting in the material there, giving an experimental tug. “Kiss me like that again and I’ll consider forgiving you.”

The laugh that came out of him was golden, and you pushed yourself to memorize it. Azriel, Lord of Shadows, Spymaster for the Night Court, Rhysand’s right hand and Illyrian warrior was soft for you. He loved you. He was your mate. You’d be giddy about it for the rest of your life.

Your healing had been slower than you would’ve liked. The faebane had done serious damage but with Madja’s help, the scarring was minimized. The lashes at your front took two weeks to heal, the arrow wounds took three. Three fucking weeks. Meanwhile all you could think about was your mate. He hadn’t left your side in the interim. Helping you take steps, applying the wound creams that Madja had left in small glass pots, keeping you fed, making you laugh, telling you how much he loved you daily. Mother above, you were going to ruin this male.

You walked into the kitchen at the end of week three, the only evidence of your wounds now in the slight limp of your right leg and twinge in your left shoulder. The marks at your stomach and chest had diminished into barely there, silver scores. Cassian was sitting at the small table in the corner as you entered. “Hi Cass,” you greeted, “seen my mate around this morning?” It was fun calling him that, a small part of your chest swelling with pride each time.

Cassian smirked, “He’s been…… out.” Your eyes narrowed, he was being evasive. “Out where?” You asked, grabbing an apple and hopping up on the counter to watch the male. He shrugged, “No idea, Little One.” You smirked, “I know where you sleep Cassian,” you started, “is it really wise to lie to me?” Nesta strode into the kitchen, “What’s he done now?” She asked laughing. “Hey! I’ll have you know I’ve done nothing!” The male exclaimed, “She’s interrogating me on the whereabouts of her maaate.” He dragged out the vowel of the last word mockingly. Nesta took her seat next to Cassian and laughed, “Ah, him.” She looked to you then, “he’ll be around to collect you soon.”

You looked between the two, suspicion dripping from your features as you took another bite from the apple in your palm. “You two are being weird,” you stated. Nesta shrugged, nudging Cassian who smiled at her. “Just wait,” she said softly, “maybe cook yourself a meal.” Cassian’s mouth quirked with a laugh he restrained. “Right, I’m leaving, cause whatever this is,” you waved a hand at them, “is deeply odd.” You hopped off the counter and strolled to the exit. You heard them laughing softly once you were out of the room, making you roll your eyes at their antics.

You’d gone to the library after leaving the kitchen and found Elain already there. Her eyes moved to you upon your entrance and she closed her book, middle finger marking her spot. “How are you feeling?” She asked softly, eyes surveying your body for lingering damage. You sighed, falling into the sofa across from her. “I’m better,” you said quietly, “the pain is gone, scars are minimal.” You turned your eyes to her, she looked brighter than the last time you’d seen her. “How are you?” You asked in return. She smiled sweetly. “Better,” she echoed you and you wanted to laugh. “I’ve been exchanging letters with Lucien,” she added and your ears perked up.

“That’s great, Elain,” you rest your chin on a closed fist, watching her. She shifted and sat her book to the side, page forgotten. “I want to tell you something,” she said quietly, fingers twiddling with each other. She looked... nervous? “I’m all ears,” you said softly.

“I had a vision while you were gone,” she started and took a deep breath. “It was so muddled at first, I couldn’t tell who it was, but then I saw you. Your hair was longer, you stood taller, and your belly was round.” The breath left your body in a powerful exhale. She looked to you again, eyes watching yours, “You were pregnant and happy and in love,” she said quietly, as if the words in themselves were fragile. Your hands trembled and you moved them under your thighs, her eyes didn’t miss the action.

“I couldn’t understand why the Mother would send me a vision like that, I saw Feyre’s pregnancy, but we’re sisters, you know?” You nodded. “Then I realized I recognized the tattooed arm I’d seen wrap around you, knew it was Azriel.” Your eyes watered, and you hiccuped out a small laugh. “I’ve known for a while you two were fated, but the Mother was telling me for certain. I hope you know how happy we are for you.” She finished and moved to sit next you, small hand touching your knee.

“When they brought you in that night, I thought the Mother had lied to me, that it was a vision of what could have been, that you wouldn’t make it.” You’d never heard Elain speak at length in this way, and you thought you might stop breathing. “I’ve never been happier to see you than when Azriel brought you in to read days later, my sweet friend.” You surged forward, throwing your arms around the female and she returned the gesture warmly.

You sat back and looked at her then. “Thank you,” you said, voice small, a little watery. She nodded before turning to resume her original spot at the end of the sofa, picking up her book and opening it to the page she’d left off.

In the hours that followed, you’d returned to the kitchen, grateful to find Cassian and Nesta had left. You took Nesta’s advice, gathering the ingredients to build a small berry tart. It had just gone in the oven when your mate appeared in the doorway.

“Hello love,” he said casually, leaning against the door jamb. You startled, turning on your heel to find him smiling at you. “Where have you been?” You asked walking towards him and running your hands around his midsection in a hug, head resting against his chest. His arm came around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your hair, breathing in your scent. “That, my dearest one, is a surprise.”

You looked up chin resting against his chest, watching his face. “It’d better be good, I baked for you,” you said, smiling softly at the Spymaster. His eyes moved to the oven then and back to you, irises darkening, as his pupils blew a little wide. “You… baked?” He asked disbelieving, “didn’t know you knew how to bake,” he followed up playfully. You gasped and shoved him, “for that, you can starve, have fun finding another mate to bake for you.” He laughed heartily and caught your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, eyes swimming with warm affection as he pressed a kiss there. Gods, the action made lust swoop in your stomach, heat spreading.

“The fool I’d be to turn away such a female,” he said, voice deepening, lips running across your knuckles with each word. “Azriel” you breathed. “Yes?” He offered in return, still smiling, moving your knuckles back and forth against his hot mouth. “Please tell me this surprise involves you bedding me.” A growl creeped out of his throat, the thought of you under him sending lust racing down his spine and to his groin.

“It might,” he said quietly, lips resuming their exploration, tracking small kisses from your knuckles, to the joint of your thumb, the inside of your wrist where Rhys’ tattoo lingered, up the soft skin of your arm, to your elbow, until he reached the skin of your shoulder. His lips traced over the raised skin there, a small nip above the scar as he traced north to your collarbone. You’d gone to putty in his hands, head rolling to the side to bare your throat. He pressed soft kisses there, pausing at your pulse point to trace the area with his warm tongue, a whimper escaping your mouth.

“If this is going to become a regular thing, I’ll need you two to relocate to the River House,” a voice came from behind you and you jumped in shock, but your mate, he let out a possessive growl before turning on the intruder. Rhysand laughed airily and folded his arms over his chest. “Easy, brother,” he smiled, causing Azriel to roll his eyes. You blinked a little dazed, and pulled away from the Shadowsinger. “You’re gonna make me burn my fucking tart,” you shoved him with an arm and laughed as you turned to resume your place at the oven.

Azriel instructed you to dress comfortably and be ready in a hour as he kissed your knuckles one last time and exited the kitchen. Butterflies roamed freely in your stomach at the thought of what he had planned. You’d returned to your quarters after removing the tart from the oven and portioning it into a small travel sized container. You were going to accept the bond, and your nerves were alight with anxious excitement. After you dressed in a lightweight linen dress, you packed a small bag with your remaining creams, and the boxed tart you’d prepared earlier.

You descended the stairs to find Azriel waiting at the base, his wings standing proudly behind him, shadows skittering around his feet. At the sight of you they raced to meet on the bottom step, running up your legs, around your waist and into your hair. A laugh escaped you as one nuzzled into the space behind your ear. Azriel watched fondly. “They love you,” he said smiling, taking a step to meet you, “ever since the bond snapped, I’ve had the hardest time reining them back from touching you.”

You reached a hand out to meet his, interlacing your fingers. “They’re cute, but you’re cuter,” you said with gentle affection. A shadow pinched at your waist and Azriel’s cheeks went a little pink as he laughed.

“Will you tell me what the surprise is?” You asked as he walked you toward the training balcony. “I’m afraid I’m very poorly dressed for training,” you joked. He snorted, “no, we’re not training.” He came to rest at the railing and then turned to you, running a hand up your arm, fingers moving to hold the back of your neck, warm palm heating the skin there, thumb grazing your jawline. “Amongst many things I’ve been terribly late for recently, I realize I owe you a date.”

Your face went a little puzzled and you looked to his eyes. “A date?” You questioned. He nodded, “I was supposed to take you flying.” Realization dawned on your features and a smile overtook your lips, each tooth shining in the setting sun. “I wanted to kiss you that night too,” you admitted laughing, remembering how desperate you’d been for his touch and attention. He smiled softly, “you have no idea how angry I was with Rhys for calling me away.” Your eyes widened, still in disbelief that this male wanted you return. It seemed both a millennia in the making and still so new and fragile.

Azriel snuck an arm around your waist and brought you up into the stretch of his firm body. His other hand tracing down your hip, then thigh, to curve under your knees as he picked you up. His wings unfurled and he shot into the air. A shaky laugh startled out of you and you gripped him tighter, your arms winding around his neck. His wings flapped in thunderous bursts, taking you higher, until you could see the entirety of Velaris spread below, the Sidra flowing like a snake through the winding city. Your breath left you in awe. “The Peregryn was right,” you said loud enough for him to hear and he smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

The flight was short, but it took you to the rural banks of the Sidra on the outskirts of the city, just before it emptied into the sea. You could see ships sailing into the harbor, moonlight beginning to trickle across the water. This was undeniably special, you thought, no one would see you up here and you felt like this was the edge of the world itself. You turned to Azriel, finding his eyes already watching you. “Thank you,” you said softly, leaning into him, his chin meeting your forehead as you moved your body to rest alongside the length of his. His hand came to rest at the small of your back, pinky stretching to graze the curve of your bottom. Wherever this was going, you were very interested.

He turned and grasped your hand, pulling you back up the hill and away from the view, towards a field of wildflowers and grasses. There, in the middle, a blanket had been laid out, small candles lit to illuminate the setting. A basket sat in one corner, a bottle of fae wine held within with an assortment of pastries, breads, and cheeses. You realized quickly that your mate, the male you’d loved for damn near two centuries, was courting you. The thought thrilled you.

He led you to the blanket and motioned for you to sit next him. “I must confess, I never took you for a romantic,” you said looking from the candles, to the basket, and then to him. He was watching you again. He smiled, laughing a bit nervously, “I’m a lot of things,” he said and your eyebrow quirked. “Oh yeah? Like what?” You challenged him and he loved you for it. You made him feel easy to love, you made loving fun and freeing. Azriel had once only thought freedom could be found in fucking and flying, then he’d found you and he knew it was there too. In the smile of your lips, in the thrill of your touch, in the ease of your love.

“Well,” he started, moving his wings to lean into you, pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder. The action caused you to shiver. “I’m a spymaster.” You snorted, “no shit.” A laugh rumbled in his chest. “I’m a bit shy as you well know, I’m quite fond of dancing, I’m—” he hummed the last letter, pausing his thoughts and moving his lips up your neck. “I’m in love with you,” he said biting into the flesh at the juncture of your collarbone and throat, cock hardening at the sound that rolled out of your mouth. “I’m going to take you right here, on this blanket, under the stars.”

You gasped, your hands moved find purchase in the hair at the back of his head, fingers winding through the strands, nails dragging at his scalp. His nose ran the length of your jawline before his lips found yours. He rumbled a small hum the instant his mouth touched your own. At first it was a gentle press, teasing you as he had done today in the kitchen at the House of Wind. The adrenaline racing up your spine made you feel like you might vibrate out of your skin. His hand reached up then, threading broad fingers into your hair as he took the kiss deeper. Tonguing the bottom of your lip until your mouth opened, his tongue stroking your own. Humming with contentment, he tilted your head, deepening the kiss at a new angle that had heat swooping down to your core.

You brought your left hand to his shoulder, fisting your fingers in the fabric there and pulling him closer. He understood your intention and leaned you back into the blanket, pleasure alighting each nerve as his body pressed into your own. He eased up on your lips and began a slow trek south, pulling the strap of your dress down the curve of your shoulder, leaving a love bite there that had you gasping. He kissed down the bust line of the dress, laving his tongue at the swell of your breast. Your breath was coming in pants and you pressed yourself up on your elbows as he moved further south, fingertips tracing the hem of your dress that had risen to the middle of your thigh.

He looked back to you and smiled, mischief playing in his eyes as he ran his hands up your thighs, the slow drag pulling the dress with it. “I’ve been thinking about your cunt for centuries,” he said, his lips on your knee, pressing insistently as they moved north. “I’ve been dreaming of making you come on my tongue since I met you.”

Your breath leaves you in one fell swoop as you feel his tongue at the juncture of your hip and thigh. His mouth was insistent at skin there, tonguing the lace of your panties before pulling them down your legs and off entirely. He picked up a foot, placing it to his chest as he traced the long line of your body with hungry eyes. You were panting already, dressed rucked up around your waist, straps fallen down your arms and breasts heaving. His gaze flowed south and landed on your pink cunt, glistening, begging for him. His eyes went back to your face then, and his titled his head to the side, “Will you let me eat your pretty little cunt?” He asked fingertips tracing the scars of your calf with reverence. He brought your foot up, kissing the inside of the ankle, then nosing his way over your scarred calf, suckling at the skin there. “Please,” he added, eyes moving back to yours as his mouth continued his ministrations.

“Mother above, Azriel,” you breathed and a laughed startled out of you, “you are mouthy.” He chuckled darkly then, nipping at your knee, taking special care to press a gentle kiss at the new scar there. “Is that a no then?” He said softly and your head fell back with a groan, exposing your neck to his view. “As if,” you said, head pulling back up and lolling to the side to rest on your shoulder. “I’ve thought about it too, and if you back out now I will explode.” He laughed again, freely this time, forehead resting on your thigh.

His eyes find yours again, and he kept them there as he traced his lips north. He nosed the juncture of your cunt and inner thigh, running a tongue along your mound. You gasped and eyes narrowed, watching him with rapt attention. He pressed a kiss to the top of your slit and his hands come up to open you to him, pulling the lips apart and tonguing the collected moisture there. Your head fell back as your elbows gave way, falling flat against the blanket.

“You taste better than I imagined,” he said before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. The moan that left you had his hips pushing into the ground to find relief as his cock begged for release. His tongue flicked against your clit as he sucked and hummed. He thought this might become his favorite place in all of Prythian. He thought that every bad thing that had happened in his life seemed insignificant now that he was able to worship freely between your thighs. He traced fingers up and paused to wet them on his tongue, before pushing his middle and ring finger in to the second knuckle, pulling them out and scissoring them back in again. His tongue found your sweet little button for a second time that night and he laved at it, listening to your cries as he pushed you to the brink. Azriel’s life had been a nightmare, but between your thighs, mouth on your cunt, walls fluttering around his fingers, he thought he’d been blessed by the Mother herself.

Your hips rocked up in time with his fingers and you cried as your gut twisted, the coil there tightening. “Az-“ you gasped. “Azriel,” you went a little whiny on the vowels of his name, and your hand reached down to thread your fingers into his hair, nails scratching and tugging the strands. He hummed, the vibration sending shocks up your spine. “Azriel, baby,” you gasped, coming up on an elbow again, rutting your hips into his face as he took you higher. He didn’t let up, suckling at your cunt, fingers finding the spongy spot on the backside of your clit that made the world go blank “Azriel!” you gasped again, hips stuttering out, “Fuck, fuck— oh.” In seconds you were reaching your peak, hips faltering, thighs twitching, toes curling into the hard planes of his back.

He pulled his mouth off of you, pressing kisses to your pubic bone as he moved north up your stomach. He eyes were alight with desire, the male was pure want and you were his last meal. He pulled his fingers from your cunt and trailed them up to rest at your neck as he slotted his body between your thighs and kissed you. The hedonism of tasting yourself on his mouth made you wetter, cunt pressing into the hard line of his cock, still restricted in his trousers. He moaned at the contact, mouth leaving yours to rest his head against your chin and gather himself. The sound sent a pleasurable shock directly to your core. You grasped the hand at your throat and brought his fingers up and to your mouth, tongue laving at them before taking them to the knuckle, and pulling back slow, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking, keeping your eyes on his. He bared his teeth the sight and ground his hard cock into you, the friction on your clit making your thighs twitch.

“My sweet little mate,” he cooed. “Love of my life,” he nosed your cheek, his fingers still in your mouth. “All my dreaming has been put to shame it would seem,” he pulled his fingers from your mouth and replaced them with his tongue, his hands flying to his belt. He growled in struggle and you ventured a laugh. His eyes found yours and his jaw ticked, “keep laughing, sweet girl, I’ll fuck your throat next and you won’t come.” Your eyes went a little wide and a feline grin appeared on your face. “Mouthy indeed,” you said with glee as he finally got the buckle undone and pushed the pants down and off.

His shirt went next and your fingers traced up his exposed arms to his shoulders. “I’ve seen you shirtless a dozen times, and you still take my breath away,” you said softly, a hand resting on his pectoral. He laughed and went a little pink, before he pushed your dress up your body and over your head, leaving you bare. “I’ve always been impressed by your ability to so disarming,” he said, mouth finding the space above your breast as his hands came to cup them, fingers toying with the nipples. “It’s my favorite thing about you, you see me in a way I can’t even see myself,” he followed up.

Your eyes watered at the admission and your hands found his face, bringing his mouth back to yours as you kissed him again, tongue entwining with his. Your hands grasped his shoulders, as your leg found his hip and you pushed him over, onto his back. Your hands came to rest on his chest as you settled your weight on his lower abdomen. You could feel his manhood standing to attention, insistent at the curve of your ass and you reached around to grasp it, pushing your chest out for his greedy eyes. Taking him in long strokes, you ran your hand up and down, circling your thumb around the head. His eyes screwed shut as his breathing shallowed.

“Wanna know a secret, baby?” You offered, rocking your hips in time with your strokes. He whined then, the Lord of Shadows keened a little whine for you that had you ready to come right there. “Last time we hosted a gala, that night before Hybern,” you were panting, “all I could think about was taking you to bed.” His eyes opened and hazel was gone blacked out in pure desire. His hands found your hips and his own began to move in time with you. “I thought about riding you,” you said, twisting your hand in a way that had his breath guttering out of him. “I thought you might love me in the way you looked at me.” His eyes softened and he leaned up, hands tracing up your spine as he pressed kisses to your chest.

“I loved you that night and every night since,” he said before tonguing a nipple and sucking it into his mouth. “That dress you wore, my color, had me hard for a week.” You laughed then removing your hand from his cock and bringing both to his face, so you could kiss him. His hands slipped to your ass then, palming the cheeks as his tongue moved in tandem with yours. When you moved back from him, a string of salvia still connected you two, you reached up to comb fingers through his hair gently.

“I brought you something,” you said quietly, looking to the corner of the quilt where your bag had dropped ages ago. His brow furrowed, confusion showing in his features. “You don’t have to, but I brought some of that tart. If you want,” you offered the statement nervously, as if there was still a chance for rejection. Azriel’s heart went soft and his brain turned to mush.

“You want to accept it?” He questioned, hands sliding up your back and to your waist. You smiled and looked at him incredulously, “Of course I want to accept it, it feels like I’ve waited a millennia for you.” You’d laughed a bit and that feeling of home raced through him again. Gods, he was fucked.

You leaned off his lap, pulling the strap of your bag to you and unzipped it. There, packaged in a little glass container, lay a small slice of the berry tart you’d fretted over earlier in the day. “Nesta made some stupid comment about ‘cooking’ when I’d asked where you were,” you laughed in hindsight at the female’s leading words. “She knew because Cassian knew, he helped me with the food and candles,” Azriel murmured pushing your hair up and over your shoulder.

He pulled the container from your grasp then and opened it before picking the pastry up with his fingers, the same fingers that had been inside you minutes ago. Eyes on yours he took the first bite, your heart thrumming as the golden thread of your bond lit up like the sunrise. His eyes never left yours as he consumed the pastry in four bites, swallowing and pulling his fingers into his mouth at the remaining sweetness there.

The bond between you two was shining, strong and thrumming with love. ‘Hi,’ you tried, your thoughts reaching out to him. He smiled, laughing freely, and his voice came through clearly, ‘Hi, Little One.’ You choked out a laugh, eyes watering as you leaned forward to kiss him, tasting the berries on his tongue. ‘Can I make love to my mate now?’ He questioned down the bond and you laughed again. His hands were already tracing your hips as you leaned forward, hand reaching underneath to guide him into your cunt. Lowering yourself down, you rocked forward once then twice in order to take him to the hilt.

Mother above, he was big. His cock was thick and filled you wholly, pushing against your cervix making your eyes flutter in pleasure. You thought of the comment Mor had made about wingspan once decades ago and you heard him laugh, “I’m flattered, truly,” he said playfully, reading your thoughts and nipping at your shoulder.

You rose up again and set to riding him slowly, hips moving in long strokes as his hands traced your ass, pulling at the flesh there in time with your movements. You gave a experimental squeeze of your walls, and he keened a loud moan that had you speeding up your flow. “You keep that up, Little One and I won’t last,” he panted at your throat. “That’s rather the point,” you laughed breathlessly, your own hand moving to cup your breast, the other sliding down to circle your clit. His eyes traced the view greedily, moving down to the point where you connected, watching your cunt take him in full, his cock glistening with your shared wetness. He bared his teeth at the sight, a rumble lighting in his chest.

Just as your walls began to flutter with your impending orgasm, he grasped you and flipped you to your back, pulling your hands from your body and entwining your fingers with his own on each side of your head. He ground his pelvis in deep and your legs hitched higher around his waist. “Azriel, fucking Gods,” you called out at the switch in angle, the tip of his cock grinding into your cervix. He hummed at your throat, teeth marking you there as his hips pulled out and pushed in, grinding each time he bottomed out into you. His wings flared behind him and you thought you’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

“You take me so well, my love,” he panted, “you were made for me.” You whined then, cunt fluttering around him as he bottomed out deep and held it there, grinding his pubic bone into your clitoris. The pleasure raced up your spine and you thought you’d never be able to leave this place, might have to keep him inside you forever. He growled, reading your thoughts. “You want me to fuck this cunt forever?” He asked aloud leaning up, pulling his hands from yours.

You whined at the loss, but the sound died as he pulled your legs up his waist to his shoulders, kissing the scarred calf. He drew his cock out, only to slam back in. “Fuck,” you moaned out, voice going up two octaves. “You want me between your thighs for the rest of my days?” He said again, hips moving faster, your hands moving to your tits as they bounced from the impact. His eyes watched the movement and he bared his teeth again, turning his head to bite into the flesh of your calf.

“Azriel!” You called out again, pleasure zipped up your spine and you felt your stomach tighten. “Az, baby, I’m so close.” He chuckled darkly. “Be a good girl and come on my cock,” he said as his fingers traced down your leg to find your clit, rubbing the bundle in quick, timed circles. “Az- I-,” you barely got the words out before your orgasm overtook you, a long moan exiting your mouth as your cunt tightened around him, he ground into you and worked you through it, before dropping your legs back to his hips and pistoning deeper.

“My sweet mate,” he gasped at the skin of your throat, mouth tracing up to find yours, hands finding purchase on your thighs as he pulled you open, allowing him dive deeper. “My darling love,” he moaned and his tongue moved with yours, your hips pushing up to meet his thrusts, walls fluttering against his velvet length with the remnants of your orgasm.

You ventured your hand up his shoulder to the base of a wing and traced your fingers up the membrane to the bone. His eyes twisted shut, and he keened a low primal whine that had your cunt ready to come again. At the tightening of your walls, he groaned dark and deep, shadows seeping from him, as he pushed in, grinding against the innermost portion of you. His hips pulled out slightly and then pushed back in as his cock kicked, come spurting against your walls. He panted against your throat as his hands released their hold on your thighs and moved up your body before grasping your throat. He moved up to lean over you and his eyes found your own. He gave an experimental thrust of his hips and your eyes widened. Fucking Cauldron, he was still hard.

He laughed then, nuzzling at your mouth as he nipped at your bottom lip. “I’m giving you five,” his voice was deeper than you’d ever heard it, “and then I’m eating my come from your cunt and fucking you until the sun comes up.”

You gasped out a laugh as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. ‘They call it frenzy for a reason,’ you thought, kissing along his cheekbone and to his mouth. Gods, you were fucked.

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jamespotterismydaddy · 7 months

Text

Seeded and Sore

aemond x niece!reader

A/N: fufilling a request, hope you enjoy love

word count: 1,347 words

TW: smut, DUBCON, spanking, incest, threats of violence (not to reader), breeding kink, slight knife kink, virginity loss, rough smut

“What are you wearing?” Aemond asks as his eyes rake over your figure. Your beloved betrothed often has issues with how you dress, the issues specifically relating to the sparse coverage the fabric provides your body.

“A dress.” You say. “ You know, kepus, with how much people drawl on about how clever you are, I would have expected you’d recognise the garment.”

“I don’t believe most people would consider that even half a dress, riñītsos.” little girl. “Change.”

Ever since you were engaged, Aemond has made a habit of ordering you around. Neither of you enjoy the arrangement but since he is a handful of years older, and a man, your uncle has decided that you must adhere to being the perfect little wife.

“I’m sorry. I don’t remember the marriage bells tolling. So why are you commanding me as if I am your wife?” You ask defiantly.

“Because you are a brat who doesn’t know what’s good for you. Princesses don’t go around dressed like common whores. When you become my wife, I will not tolerate such behaviour.” He says to you and you try not to giggle at how he attempts to flaunt his power when you know for a fact that he is pitching a tent in his pants at the same time.

“Of course, uncle.” You say in a sickeningly sweet tone before walking off to where the jousts are happening, with no intention of changing your gown on the way.

~~~

Ser Brandon, that’s the name of the cunt you give your favour to. Aemond likes to think that for duty’s sake, you’d give him your favour if he’d competed. But he knows that you give about as many shits about duty as he does tourneys.

You smile at Ser Brandon and giggle at him flirtatiously before you toss him the wreath of flowers. Aemond pays close attention to the way your breasts are pushed up as you bend over the railing and say something only loud enough for the knight to hear. The encounter fills his whole body with lust and rage.

“What did you say to him?” Baela asks you, ever the gossip.

“I told him that if he won, then i’d give him much more than my favour.” You say and Baela gasps at the scandal as you both giggle about it together.

Your uncle’s blood boils. Surely you didn’t intend for him to hear that? But he knows how you are and he knows just how to put you in your place.

~~~

You jump as the door to the library bursts open. “Everyone out!” Aemond shouts and the few occupants leave, quickly obeying the angry prince. Not you though; you know the demand didn’t extend to you.

“My my, uncle. What has irked you so?” You ask him in a condescendingly sweet tone as you rise from your chair.

He strides over to you and grabs you by the chin and you gasp softly. “Do you think that you can make a fool out of me, niece?”

“I must misunderstand you. I would never try to make you look foolish.” You reply calmly.

“Hmm… then why did you offer to fuck another man right in front of me?” He asks, matching your calm tone which makes you nervous enough to drop your eyes. His hand moves to the back of your head and he grips your hair tightly at the roots, pulling your head back so that you have to look up at him. “Look at me when I speak to you.”

“Let me go.” You pout a little and grasp at his arms in an attempt to make him release you. He yanks your hair harder and you aren’t sure if you moan in pain or pleasure.

“You. Belong. To. Me.” He says seriously. “Do you understand? No other man will touch you.”

You stay defiantly silent.

“I will make you understand then.” You don’t have a chance to contemplate what he means before he drags you to the nearest table in the library and bends you over it.

“What in the seven hells are you doing?! Let me up now!”

“Be quiet now, riñītsos. We wouldn’t want to draw anyone in when you’re in such a state, now would we?” He says as he pins your hands behind your back with one hand and unbuckles his belt with the other. “Do you know what i’m going to do to you with this?” He asks as he places the belt on the table and lifts your skirts. “Do you know how common girls are punished when they’re naughty?”

“Aemond don’t!” Your protests are met by a whip across your ass by the belt.

“I told you to be quiet. I have been far too lenient with you and now it’s time for proper punishment.” He spanks you again with the belt and you whimper but don’t say anything this time.

He pulls your smallclothes down so you’re bare from the waist down and you squirm at the embarrassment of your handsome uncle disciplining you in such a way. He admires the way your cunny is glistening with wetness.

“Let me go you bastard!” You say, humiliated by your own arousal.

“Oh do you like this, riñītsos? Do you like it when your uncle gives you what you deserve?” He gives you another swat with the belt and the pain intensifies with the lack of protection your smallclothes provided.

“I’m sorry.” You whine out softly, trying to end the punishment but he continues. “I promise I would’ve never let him touch me.” He scoffs at your words and you feel him roughly bind your wrists together with the belt.

The sound of his dagger being unsheathed rings through the air. “If he ever comes near you again, i’ll slit his fucking throat.” He cuts your dress from halfway up the bodice down to the hem so he doesn’t have to hold it up anymore. You then hear him fiddling with his trousers. “He will know who you belong to soon enough, when your belly swells with my babe inside of it.”

“No you canno-” You begin to struggle and protest when you hear what he says but your words are cut off when his thick cock is thrust into you and he quickly sets a tempestuous rhythm, fucking in and out of you like you are nothing more than a cock sleeve. He grips your hair roughly and yanks your head back so he can speak directly into your ear.

“Do you know what i’m doing to you right now? I’m ruining you. Nobody will have you after this but me.” His hips continue to meet yours and you let out a little moan. “I’m going to fill you with my seed everyday for the rest of your life. Any stranger who comes by will know you’re mine when they see our silver haired children clutching at your skirts. The children I put inside of you.”

His cock continues to slam into you mercilessly and you can do nothing except lie there and take it.

“Kepus…” You breathe out when you feel yourself steadily climbing to your peak.

“Gods, you’re gripping me like a vice. So much big talk for a girl with a virgin cunt.” He laughs at you and gives your ass another slap. “It’s okay, riñītsos. I’m going to fill you now, fill you nice and deep.” He gives a few more slower thrusts before spending himself inside of you, the feeling of his cum filling you causing you to reach your own peak as well.

He lets you rest for a moment as you breathe heavily before he unties you but only so he can put his belt back on and make himself look presentable. He tosses his cloak to you so that you might cover yourself.

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson, niece. I shall speak to your mother about us marrying on the morrow.” He says as he walks to the door. “Oh and one more thing. Don’t even think about drinking moontea.”

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hisui-dreamer · 8 months

Note

Hi, congratulations on 1k followers! I love your writing a lot and I was hoping you could do Villainess AUs with Malleus? Like isekai manhwa style? Thank you!!

the gazelle's sweet briar

Pairing: Malleus Draconia x f!reader

Synopsis: your first objective was to avoid the main characters, but it's not easy when you only have the memories of your friend's ramblings to work off of

Tags: cliché isekai plot, reincarnation, fluff, arranged marriage, tw (mentioned): bad parenting, patriarchal society, death

Word count: 1.6k+

Notes: @coralinnii has an amazing series based on isekai villainesses, so i definitely recommend you check out her work too! im so in love with it (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

Masterlist

Once upon a time, there lived a villainess of exceptional allure, her visage as enchanting as a moonlit night. However, this bewitching beauty concealed a heart blackened by a singular obsession with appearances.

From the earliest days of her upbringing, her mother, a woman who had managed to step into aristocracy by charming a noble, had instilled in her a cruel belief: that those who were not blessed with physical perfection were destined for lives of relentless mockery and eternal solitude. This twisted ideology consumed the villainess' every thought, blinding her to the virtues of education and morality. She became nothing more than a porcelain doll, admired solely for her aesthetic charm.

The King arranged a marriage between her and Duke Draconia, the enigmatic descendant of the dragons who ruled the northern lands, believing that such a striking bride would surely please the reclusive Duke.

However, the King remained oblivious to the swirling rumours that pervaded the courtly circles. Whispers spoke of the Duke as a hideous man who had never once revealed his face, perpetually concealed behind a forbidding black mask. When the rumours reached the villainess' ears, she threw tantrum after tantrum, vehemently refusing to wed a man whose appearance couldn't possibly match her own.

Yet, a royal decree could not be denied. Reluctantly, the villainess embarked on her journey to the northern realm in bitter acceptance. It had rained the moment she arrived, the castle dark and uninviting, with thorns crawling onto the obsidian walls. The Duke, an oblivious and shy man, did not greet her at the grand entrance. Instead, she was met by the Duke's advisor, a man with a curiously boyish features.

Humiliation welled up within the villainess' heart, for she felt as if she were being played the fool by the entire duchy. On the eve of her arrival, anxiety gnawed at her like a relentless spectre.

As night descended, the Duke, mustering his courage, attempted to approach the vexed lady.

But when the villainess beheld his masked face, terror seized her like a vice. "Stay back! You hideous beast!" she cried out, her voice trembling with fear, and she recoiled, her steps faltering as she retreated from him.

The Duke, wounded by her cruel words, attempted to console her, his outstretched hand beseeching understanding. Yet, her irrational dread overcame her, and she continued her backward retreat until, with a heart-stopping scream, she slipped from an open window.

That was how the villainess' life ended.

you hadn't actually read the book, but it wasn't difficult identifying who you got reincarnated as

especially with how your best friend obsessed over this villainess because, and i quote, "if pretty, why evil, huh???"

you woke up a week before the villainess would depart for the North, but that week alone was enough to make you understand the way she acted

every day, you were fed portions fitting of a child, had your skin rubbed raw as you were bathed, and not a moment of your mother's nitpicking about a sudden imperfection she found in you

in truth, you were more than glad to leave for the North, even if that's where your life would be on the line

the survival plan was simple: maintain an amicable relationship with the duchy until the night the heroine stumbles in to ask for a night of shelter, to which the heroine would heal the emotional wounds of the Duke, and share with him the beauty of love, bringing warmth into his heart

and so, you arrived at the estate, the castle tall and intimidating with the clouds dark and foreboding

still, you stepped out of your carriage (with wobbly legs) and met the advisor (your friend's favourite character, in fact)

the advisor, lilia, though seemed young, was actually the very man who raised the duke in the absence of his parents

he welcomed you as the lady of the duchy, and led you to your quarters

by nightfall, you were quite comfortable with living in the estate

everyone was polite, the food was delicious (and properly sized), and you had no doubt you'd settle nicely here

as a precaution to the death sequence, you decided to take a stroll in the rose garden after dinner

if you were already on the ground floor, you couldn't fall to your death, right?

but unexpectedly, you encountered a lone figure in the centre of the garden

he was incredibly tall, dressed simply, his emerald eyes fixated on the estate

upon closer inspection, you noticed he had long horns as well, perhaps he was a gazelle beastman?

either way, you were curious about what it was that held his attention so strongly that he couldn't notice your presence

"Excuse me, sir? May I ask what is so interesting about the building?" you timidly break the silence of the night.

The man turns to you, his eyes widening in surprise. "... Do you not know who I am?"

You blinked in confusion at his words. His words filled you with a sense of foreboding. You wondered if this person matched any of the characters your friend had so fervently described, but all you could recall was the beautiful villainess and the enigmatic advisor to the Duke.

"My apologies, I'm afraid I do not... May I know your name, sir?"

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he considered your question. "No... If that is the case, you may call me whatever you wish."

Perplexed by his response, you tried to come up with a suitable name. "Then... May I call you Mr. Gazelle?"

Upon hearing your words, he burst out in laughter. "Hahaha! What an interesting choice. Very well, I accept the name," he said. "In response to your first question, I was observing the gargoyles of the building."

on that night, not only did you learn more about the fascinating functions gargoyles serve, you also made your first friend in this life

strangely enough, you didn't meet the duke at all unlike the novel, which though strange, you greatly welcomed

if you didn't have any ties with him, then it'd be so much easier to just divorce him, get the money, and live a comfortable luxurious life far away from the main characters

though as you say that, you find yourself wanting to spend more and more time with "Mr Gazelle"

despite his intimidating appearance, he turned out to be a very generous person, frequently gifting you little trinkets he's made or bouquets he's arranged

he's started calling you "Briar", after the roses in the garden where he met you

you greatly appreciated the nickname, it felt better to be called that than the name of the villainess, that you could just be yourself and not play the role of a villainess avoiding ruin

you also find that whatever musings you've mentioned to him, they somehow manifest themselves

oh? you wish you could learn about embroidery? the next day there's a basket full of the highest quality threads and fabrics, with a gentle tutor to help you learn

(you still remember how cute "Mr Gazelle" looked when you gave him your first finished product, a handkerchief with an embroidered gargoyle)

what's this? you'd like to try more desserts from the capital you were never allowed to try? say no more! the next day the chef presents you with 10 different choices!

so you assumed he was an advisor of sorts to the Duke, because how else could your requests be granted so easily?

but one day, around two months after you started living in the duchy, "Mr Gazelle" asked you questions about the duke, whether you were afraid of him, would you prefer to meet him, curious questions like that

though surprised by the topic, you answered honestly, saying you don't really believe in the rumours (because you know from your friend he's an ethereal beauty) and yes, you would like to meet your husband

and what do you know? lilia informs you the duke wants to share dinner with you. what a coincidence!! :)

Nervousness held you in its grasp as you stepped into the room. Your gaze remained fixed on the carpet beneath your feet, and your knees bent gracefully as you executed the perfect curtsey.

"Your Grace."

You could hear sounds of shuffling, and then a pair of black boots entered your field of vision. Familiar hands found yours, guiding you to rise and stand upright. "Rise, my Briar," he murmured gently.

With hesitant anticipation, you finally looked up, taking in the obsidian mask that concealed his face. That voice, that nickname, and those enchanting eyes—it was all too familiar.

"Mr Gazelle..." you whispered in disbelief.

His eyes narrowed in mirth as he chuckled. "Although I hold great fondness for that name, I do wish you could call your husband by his name," he said as he began to remove his mask.

"Malleus..." you breathed.

A tender smile graced his lips, and his eyes sparkled with affection as he delicately brushed a stray lock of hair from your face—a gesture he had done countless times before. "My sweet Briar, I implore you to forgive me for deceiving you. I wished nothing more but to know you," he pleaded.

Oh, with how loud your heart was pounding in your chest, you realized that you were irrevocably and hopelessly ensnared in a love story that had deviated far from the original story.

But you didn't feel a single ounce of regret.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#bts of writing this #malleus fell so hard on the first night #he gave gifts as a form of courting #cuz dragon instincts #also lilia the whole time was like “young people and their love issues”#✧1k! another life✦#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst imagines #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #twisted wonderland malleus

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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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space-mango-company · 1 month

Text

Stranger | Chapter 1

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Summary: The Atreides daughter is sent off to Giedi Prime to marry the Harkonnen heir in an attempt to quell the feuding Great Houses. The bride, however, must prove her grit and earn the respect of her new family if she is to survive her new life. Perhaps she will find that she had more Harkonnen in her than she thought.

TW: none (for now)

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut (just not in this chapter lmao), No use of y/n, Original Characters, cannon what cannon

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Please bear with me, it has been ages since I've written anything and this is my first ever work of fanfiction. I've never written in the second person before so if you catch any mistakes, especially in verb tenses, please let me know. English is not my first language. Also, this might start out a bit slow but I promise things will pick up soon.

The smell of grass and the crashing waves of Caladan brought you comfort as you stood before the starship that had been rented from the Spacing Guild.

Your brother had insisted on accompanying you to Giedi Prime, but a round trip would have been unnecessarily expensive, even with the vast wealth of your Great House. Besides, it would be foolish to deliver the heir of House Atreides to the home world of their sworn enemies. It was bad enough they had to send you there.

"Give them hell," Paul teased as he hugged you goodbye.

You laughed, but you knew his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He had faith in your strength and ferocity, but he had much less faith in the hospitality of the Harkonnens.

"I'll miss you," you pull away and try to give him a reassuring smile but you, yourself, are not so certain of your fate.

You made your way to your mother, next in line to bid you farewell.

"Remember your training." Lady Jessica held your face and planted a tender kiss on your forehead. She had already given you all the advice she could.

You take her hands in yours and kiss them. "I will," you tell her solemnly.

You finally make it to your father, whose eyes are already welling with tears.

"My darling princess," his voice cracks as he lays a hand on your cheek. The Duke may seem a stoic man to most, but those who truly knew him knew he had a big heart.

Perhaps it is because you are one of those people that you finally feel that weight in your chest that you've been dreading since the signing of your marriage pact. It will be a truly long time before you would see your family again. If you could ever see them at all.

The Duke waves at an attendant who approaches with a silver tray. Leto takes the dagger resting on it and places it in your hands. "To remind you that you will always be an Atreides, that you will always be my daughter."

You let your tears fall as you hold the gift close to your chest.

"Don't cry now," your father pulls you into a hug, hoping to hide his own tears, "or I might never let you go."

You let a laugh slip through the sobs. You knew it was already decided and it is your duty to fulfill. The Sisterhood and the Emperor himself endorsed the match. Nothing could change it now.

The harsh light of Giedi Prime's black sun assaulted your eyes as you made your way down the starship's gangplank. The stark, high-contrast black and white made everything a pain to look at. You were thankful for the veils of your travelling gowns for providing you at least some shade.

You were greeted by House Harkonnen's steward, Jaromir Naggul, and swiftly led into the imposing, Brutalist fortress of their stronghold. You were almost happy to escape the infrared outside.

"Your belongings are being sent to your new quarters as we speak," Jaromir, a lanky but stately man, informs you. "You may change out of your traveling clothes and rest there. The Baron will receive you in the throne room in the afternoon."

You note his accent and the mild contempt in his voice, as if you were an inconvenience.

"This is Iassa," he gestures to one of the servants that had been following you through the halls. "She is your assigned slave. Should you need anything, you may tell her."

The word almost knocks the breath out of you.

You eyes turn to Iassa in her pale gray robes and you give her a polite nod. She hastily curtsies in return.

You knew the Harkonnens and even the Emperor kept slaves, but you suppose it never occurred to you that you would be charged with one yourself.

"Of course," Jaromir continues, "any of the servants in the fortress will be at your command, but Iassa will be in waiting for you in particular."

"Of course," you reply coldly.

"You will be staying in the guest wing for now," Jaromir says as he shows you the door to your quarters. "Of course, until your wedding. When you will then be moved to the na-Baron's apartments."

"...of course," you repeat, grateful again for your veils that they hide your dread.

You are silent as Iassa helps you into a black gown for your audience with the baron. It is the fashionable color in the Harkonnen home world. Although there were many other 'fashionable' traits on Giedi Prime, this was the only one you felt comfortable adopting right now. The complete lack of hair in every individual you had seen was certainly unsettling, but you sensed it would be rude to speak about it.

"What is the na-Baron like?" you ask.

Iassa pauses her fastening of your dress, she swallows. "He is a fearsome warrior, my lady," she keeps her gaze averted, "handsome and popular with the people."

Her voice was shaky but she seemed genuine. You only wonder if those words hold the same implications here as they do back home.

You look over to Iassa as she fetches your shoes. It's not difficult to see that she fears you. You cannot help but feel that that is all there is. You are still an off-worlder. An Atreides no less. She harbors no respect for you.

You take care to style your hair in the fashions of Caladan, fastening a falcon-like pin at the back of your head. The symbol of your house. Perhaps it is a risky choice, to be seen as defiant by the baron should he notice, but you could already feel the black sun beginning to drain the life out of you. The thrill of quiet defiance would have to sustain you for now.

Jaromir returns in time to fetch you and you are led to the throne room.

The baron's grotesque floating body looms over you and his subjects. You had never met any of the Harkonnens before but you were sure that was him.

"Welcome to your new home, Lady Atreides," the Baron utters your last name with thinly veiled loathing. "Let me present my nephew, Feyd-Rautha."

A tall muscular young man steps forward. Stately and regal as a Harkonnen could be, he looks over you with condescending eyes.

He certainly looked like a warrior, and you could see how the people of Giedi Prime could find him handsome, but you find yourself wanting to spit in his face.

"Forgive me for not greeting you when you landed, my lady," the na-Baron bows to you. His gravelly voice sends a chill down your spine, "I was preoccupied at the time. I trust you have settled well?"

You curtsy in turn, "I'm sure my lord had important duties to attend to. I am grateful for your hospitality. My rooms are very comfortable."

"Do not find them too comfortable young lady," the Baron calls from afloat his chair, "your wedding celebrations are to begin and you will be sharing rooms with my nephew before long."

Feyd-Rautha smirks at this and you are almost willing to cast decorum aside to slap it off his face.

"Tomorrow, your groom will take part in the arena to demonstrate his prowess as a worthy husband and leader, as per the traditions of our house," the Baron announces. "I'm sure you will make a point to attend."

"I would not miss it, dear Baron."

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha smut #dune #dune part two #house harkonnen #house atreides #leto atreides #lady jessica #paul atreides #baron vladimir harkonnen #duke leto atreides #austin butler #jessica atreides #space-mango-company #fic: stranger

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konigsblog · 1 month

Note

more arranged marriage between reader and farmer!könig, please? 🌝❤️

tw: arranged marriage au, rape/non-con, forced impregnation and breeding. dead dove: do not eat. 18+ tell me if i missed anything. 🔞

your parents knew it was harsh to arrange a marriage with the farmer of the village, although, they cared more about his money and wealth and status around the village, how you'd be viewed as his pretty, little wife, respected and admired by those around you.

that's what they want you to believe — that it's for your own sake — but, a part of you is aware that they're doing this for könig's money, as he pays them to keep you by his side. for könig, this is everything he's wanted, whilst you avoid him like the plague and dismiss every attempt when he tries having sex with you.

farmer-könig spends ages on the field, harvesting the fruits and vegetables whilst you hide inside, ignoring your arranged husband. könig attempts to please you, to make you happy, but eventually, he's left without a choice but to take the old-fashioned route and have his way with you regardless...

he'd drug you, get you intoxicated enough where your mind is easily shaped and you're a pliant plaything for him to use for an hour or so, his obedient wife waiting on him, to be torn apart and pierced with his hung, musky cock. the smell of his sweat and musk was a scent you were all too familiar with, smelling it on him after he'd arrived home from the farm, sweat running down his forehead. you could smell it against his neck as he lowered himself onto you, his weight holding you down and the scent of alcohol coming from your breath.

his large and calloused hands began moving as he wasted no time at getting what he pleased and yearned for. könig's fingers ran up your back, unclasping your bra and removing it to see what he craved, the essence of your sweet arousal leaving könig insatiable and hungry. he couldn't wait any longer, as he gripped your breast firmly and began to suckle at your hardened nub, your nipple perky, hardening as he rolled his tongue around it. you mewled and moaned drunkenly, cunt leaving your panties wet, huffing and puffing with confusion, and your drunkenness leaving you exhausted and weak.

his other hand began to sink into your panties, and into your sopping wet hole. he could already feel how slick you were, along with how tight you were — he almost felt guilty for doing this, knowing you'd be aching and in agony the entire time — but, his dick weeped and twitched inside his boxers as he rolled his bulge against your clothed cunt. his lips popped off from your nipple, your eyes wide as the cold air against your sore nipple, causing goosebumps to spread along your body, and the wet sounds of your pleasure audible as he thrusted his calloused, thick fingers inside your cunt.

his fingers began to pull your panties down, revealing that glossy cunt that he longed for — that he dreamed and fantasised about. the slickness looked delicious to könig, who couldn't help but free his large cock from his boxers, springing out and hitting his lower, muscular abdomen as he began to push inside, one hand gripping his base and the other spreading your slit open for easy access. your folds latched onto him almost instantly, eyes wide with shock at the ache and pleasure between your thighs, the force of his meaty girth leaving tears rolling down your cheeks.

your chest rose and fell quickly, back arched at the throbbing sensation of his thick dick pushing deep inside of you. könig couldn't control himself as he felt himself grow and drool inside of you, tip leaking with pearly, milky beads of arousal, your eyes glistening with tears at the painful stretch and uneasiness. something was nagging you that this wasn't what you wanted, that something was wrong — yet, you ignored these messages and signals running through you, his hands on your wrist restraining you as he fucked himself hard into your hole, thrusts becoming merciless and sore, the tip nuzzling against your cervix.

tears ran down your face at the sight of your cunny swollen and stuffed with his hot, bulbous cock, heaving and looking around dizzily, feeling the sudden sensation of his tip spurting into you, weeping hot loads of his milky arousal into your pussy, with the hopes of impregnating you.

it's not as if you could stay away from him whilst pregnant; you would need guidance, support... everything was working the way he wanted it to go, and poor you, left defenceless, with his potent seed filling your cunt ‘til a bulge formed in your stomach. :(

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justauthoring · 3 days

Text

sincerity.

-> because gojo and geto have been in love with you since they first laid eyes on you, and marrying you was the least of their worries.

a/n -> i started this with no plan in mind so here ya go :) (i just wanted to write for my boys <3)

pairing -> satosugu x f!reader

tw. mention of (attempted) forced arranged marriage, implied physical abuse

"there you are."

eyes peeling open, you glance up at the two shadows with a dazed expression.

geto shakes his head at you. "we've been looking for you everywhere."

"you're a pain in the ass to find when you wanna be," gojo grumbles, looking decidely less amused than geto does as he crouches down, raising his head to lightly flick your forehead. "you know that?"

you let out a giggle, it light and airy as you roll your eyes at the both of them. gojo and geto glance at each other at that, raising a brow before their eyes fall back on you, laid back on the floor, head tilted back as you peer up at them through the top of your lashes.

there's a light flush across your cheeks, skin dusted with a pretty pink, and your gaze is unfocused.

oh, they realize, you're drunk.

geto's eyes flicker to the table your lower half was concealed by, only then noticing the many empty sake bottles thrown about half-hazardly.

gojo notices it at the same time and with a sigh, he presses his hand to his forehead.

"what happened?"

the smile on your face fades at that, falling with a twitch as the two of them stare down at you this time with concern clear in their gazes. an uncomfortable feeling twists deep in your chest and in your inebriated state, all you can focus on is that you really really don't want to talk about it.

any of it.

so, with a blink, you push yourself up, flipping yourself around so you're on your knees before them, grin back on your lips as you smile cheekily at them.

"nothing," you brush off, even though it's obvious it's not nothing. "let's do something fun."

gojo huffs and geto's face twists with hesitation; "y/n, i dunno if—"

geto is promptly cut off by the feeling of your weight falling against him, and he sputters for a second, confused, as he feels you crawl into his lap; something you certainly would not do if sober. your hands grab his shoulders, using them to steady yourself as you slip your legs around his waist, knocking him on his ass, instead of crouched like he'd been a second ago.

inhaling sharply the second you press your ass right against his nether regions, geto's hands are moving to your waist, hands tightening as he halts your wiggling.

"what are you—"

you just wink at him, head turning to rest on his shoulder as you turn your attention to gojo who watches on with barely concealed jealousy.

"satoru~" you call out, dragging his name out sweetly on your tongue as you stretch your hands out towards him, fingers wiggling. "come 'ere."

to his credit, gojo realizes he shouldn't given the fact that it was clear you were drunk and not in the right state of mind. but seeing you jump onto geto's lap like that had him burning with want and jealousy and he really isn't in the right state of mind himself as he submits himself to your call and crawls towards you.

you cup his cheek and gojo leans into the touch, mewling.

"pretty boy," you smile, blinking lazily.

gojo practically twinkles at the praise.

geto, still trying to ignore the feeling of you on him, maneuvers his hands, using his strength to push you back, albeit gently. you frown at his actions, attention turned away from gojo as you glare over at him, pouting.

"what's your problem?" you grumble.

geto just shakes his head, sharp eyes turning to gojo. "satoru," he calls, and gojo meets his gaze, ready to argue, before he sees the look being sent his way and is reminded of what's right (blegh) so he pulls his face out of your hand and grabs it instead to push it down, not letting it wander.

"y/n," geto calls again, and you turn to him, shoulders slumped, annoyed at your affections being ignored. "if this was any other time, we'd be all over you given that that's what we've been wanting for months and you know that. but you're drunk."

turning your face away, still perched on his lap, you cross your arms over your chest. "so?"

gojo coughs; "so... it wouldn't be right."

you snort. "as if the two of you care about right versus wrong."

"we do." geto pushes, thumbs stroking your hips. "when it comes to you."

you blink at that, eyes falling back on him with parted lips, before you turn to gojo; he wears a similar expression to geto. sincerity.

leaning forward, gojo brushes a strand of hair from your face, movements soft and gentle as he tucks it behind your ear. "what's the matter, baby? why'd you get drunk?"

feeling cornered and knowing they won't leave it until you answer, you lower your gaze. "it's stupid." you mumble, voice low, barely a whisper.

geto squeezes your hips, shaking his head. "nothing about you is stupid."

you hate them and their sweet, flattering words. you hate even more that it gives it's intended effect in the way that you're unable to resist either of them when they treat you like this.

"my father," you start, feeling that tight feeling your chest well all over again. the alcohol isn't much good for anything other than making you more emotional when forced to confront the emotions you'd desperately tried to forget in your drunken stupor.

"what'd your father do?" gojo sks.

"wants me to get married."

you feel geto tense underneath you and gojo's hand still against your cheek, there soothing movements on your skin stilling as your words hang in the air for a second.

"of course, it'll all be arranged according to him," you continue. now that the words were out, you found you couldn't stop yourself. you were angry and hurt and embarrassed and betrayed and it felt good to get all of your chest. "said i had no choice. i'm supposed to meet my fiance tomorrow... the wedding is supposedly next month."

you feel your eyes water, your emotions spilling over as your lips start to tremble. you can't look at their faces, ashamed even if you shouldn't be. it was your stupid father's fault and yet, you were the one being punished.

it was simply cruel.

your voice starts to tremble before you can stop it; "i haven't met the guy yet and when i tried to explain to my father that i wasn't ready, he... well..." you can't finish your words, the pain on your side that you'd been decidely ignoring, aching more than it had all night in that moment.

but geto and gojo aren't ready to let it go.

"he..." and geto's words are slow, calculated. "what?"

you just turn your head away.

"y/n," gojo calls, voice sharp, anger thinly veiled in his tone; but not at you. "what did your father do?"

"he..." still, the words won't come out. with a huff, you raise your shirt, showing off the bruise that had formed on your hip. your eyes fall shut when the both of them lean forward, geto's hand shifting to press above the bruise, holding his shirt up as gojo lets out a low, guttural growl.

"i'll kill him," gojo hisses, his voice the angriest you've ever heard it.

turning to geto, gojo emphasizes; "i'm going to kill him."

geto wants to agree but one glance at your red and teary-eyed face and he's nudging you to glance at them once again. you oblidge without much fight, turning to face them with wobbly lips and watery eyes, sniffling.

"y/n," geto calls, wanting your attention on him. "it'll be okay."

you just shake your head. "you guys don't get it. i don't have a choice—"

"marry us."

gojo's words cut in before you can finish and everything seems to freeze the second he says them. you pause, stilling in geto's grasp, eyes falling on the white-haired boy with disbelief, confused and bafflement all mixed into one.

for a second you think it's joking and you're about to curse him out for being so insenstive, but his face doesn't change and when you turn to geto, he seems just as serious.

"you're crazy," you breathe, mind spinning. "how... how would that—my father and..."

"the gojo clan is one of the big three clans, y/n. i have sway over these sort of things." gojo explains, face still serious, unwavering. "one word and anything your father says wouldn't matter a damn thing. and besides, i've been planning on asking you to marry me since the moment i layed eyes on you. suguru too."

lips parting, you turn to geto, only to see him smiling softly, nodding.

by the lack of geto's suprise to gojo's offer, you have the sneaking suspicion this is something they've talked about before.

"it can just be a formality," geto offers, sensing your apprehension. "nothing more than writing. i don't even have to be apart of it if you don't want. you just need the gojo name and then that would be that and you can continue on."

"or," gojo continues, "you can still continue on but... but it'd be real. not just a formality and not just in writing. we'd be your husbands and you'd be our wife. nothing would change other than our relationship to each other."

they stop at that, words left in the air as they both stare at you, waiting. your eyes flicker between the both of the, stunned, processing their words.

then, you speak up; "i could... i could still be a sorcerer?"

"of course," geto nods, not hesitating.

"either way," gojo agrees. "i would never take away your right to make a living for yourself."

"and... i'd be married to the both of you?" you whisper.

"if you want."

"only if you want."

you take the both of them in. seriously take them in. even with your mascara running and with a puffy red nose, they look at you like you're their whole world. this is how they always look at you, but it seems to really click in that moment.

their touches are gentle and reassuring and they don't pressure you. they wait for your answer and wait until you're ready to give it. gazes reassuring and smiles on their faces. there's apprehension and it's clear what they want, but they refuse to sway you either way.

they love you. they've told you before, many times but you'd always brushed it off.

you don't this time.

"okay."

the two of them glance at each other. "okay?"

"i'll marry the both of you," you whisper and the two of them straighten, eyes hopeful. "and not just a formality. but... but even if we're married in writing, i'd... i'd still like us to take things slow."

"of course," geto agrees instantly and you blink at how quick he is to oblidge.

"we don't have to have a wedding," gojo explains, then backpeddles. "not at first. it can just be in writing, to get your father off of you. then... in a couple months, maybe..."

"we can make a whole show of it," geto grins.

you snort at that, their excitement lightening your mood. "you're getting ahead of yourselves."

"can't help it," gojo breathes, leaning forward to press his face into the crook of your neck. "we've been dreaming of this."

the admission stuns you.

"don't look so shocked, baby," geto coos, squeezing you so you fall against him. "we've been in love with you for months."

you lean into their touch, basking in it. basking in how... full of love it is.

letting your head fall against geto's shoulders, you close your eyes. "thank you," you whisper into the silence. "both of you. for everything."

geto's grip around you tightens and gojo presses a kiss at the crook of your neck.

"anything for you."

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru #satosugu #satosugu x reader

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animeyanderelover · 24 days

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Can I request the senju family,indra,itachi,obito,sasuke,neji,pein and madara and what it’s like for the darling to sleep with them,like actually sleeping ?Thank you ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

Tags: @shumidehiro @swagenemyartisan

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, coercion, clinginess, paranoia, abduction, isolation

Sleeping with a Yandere

Indra Otsutsuki

💜It should be known by now that Indra doesn't have any hesitation nor chill when it comes to forcing his darling into anything as long as it pleases his possessive and paranoid side. That most obviously also includes the fact that he abducts you and keeps you from that moment on by his side. You aren't allowed to stray away nor should you ever consider being stupid enough to attempt to flee away. He is the ancestor of every Uchiha known today and he has set the standard by being fully committed to buring down entire villages if it means that he gets to keep you by his side forever. That being said, Indra is in need of his own private time because someone who is too clingy would get on his nerves after a while which is strange considering that he still expects you to pay only attention to him. Indra makes it perfectly clear when he wishes to be left alone for some time. Otherwise you are always kept within his vision and always have to stay in the same room as him.

💜Naturally this will also include that you have to share a futo with him. You are his lover and very soon you two will be united in a marriage. It would be unfitting in his eyes to have you sleep in a different place than he does. You don't really get much of a choice in this. As always. Now, Indra is very focused on his own training to the point where he may forget the time around him until he realises that it's already night which means that he may go to sleep quite late. Whilst he doesn't have a set time where he wants you to go to bed, the moment he lays down he expects you to join him as well. He is very silent when he sleeps but he is also very alert which means that he always awakes the moment you leave as he senses your movements even in his light sleep and he always waits for your return as if expecting you to put your next plan to escape into action. His hair is surprisingly soft and the spiky strands always tickly you when he moves his body closer to yours.

Madara Uchiha

🌑Madara is not as forceful as Indra is but honestly, he doesn't need to be. He has enough confidence in his own abilities as well as his influence to calmly allow you to walk around freely as he knows that if something shouldn't work out quite as fluently as he wants it to be, he can still always resort to numerous ways to blackmail you. He likes a potential challenge though so before he uses any of the cheap cards up his sleeves, Madara goes out of his own way to court you normally at first. There is still a good portion of his possessive side visible, especially if you fancy someone else or a pathetic fool should try to get cozy with you in which case he will very quickly present to you and others why he is so feared amongst even the strongest shinobi. Otherwise Madara is almost bearable if he wouldn't be such a smug jerk at times who enjoys annoying and irritating you. If you want to force him out of his comfortable zone though by rejecting him, he'll quickly introduce you to the concept of arranged marriage.

🌑Really intimate acts are frowned upon before marriage, although Madara truly enjoys playing with fire at times. You only officially live in the same mansion as him after both of you are freshly wed and from that day on you have to share a bed with him. Let's be honest here, his hair is everywhere. His long, untamed mane of black hair is always tickling you and you always find some strands of it on your sleeping clothes but he would never cut his hair as it is his pride. He's also really set on holding you in his arms but you aren't allowed to tell anyone about how clingy he can be at times. A tight grip plus his abundance of hair can make it uncomfortably warm for you at times as he really emits some heat and it is even more annoying if you want to get away or leave the futon for a while as he doesn't allow it. At times you genuinely don't know if he's actually asleep or just pretends to lightly snore to annoy you in the middle of the night when you try to wake him up to argue with him to let you go.

Hashirama Senju

🌳Hashirama isn't forceful per se but he being very pushy with his hopes and affection. Hashirama is a dreamy delusional man who spends a good portion of the day daydreaming about you whenever you aren't around him in that moment. How could he not spend every waking and even sleeping not without you filling all of his thoughts? He has so much influence and abilities and the only reason why you are partially safe is because he is for the most part a very goofy and lovely man who wants to win your love and affection. However, there is a lot of pressure from the public as well as his own clan as Hashirama is very beloved in his village. Obviously the man would never want you to suffer like this but unconsciously he is also guilt-tripping you into agreeing to a relationship with him and it is the same dilemma all over again when he asks you after only a few weeks later for your hand in marriage, too caught in his own delusions to consider that it might be too soon for you.

🌳After marriage is when both of you are officially expected to share the same home and a prospect that Hashirama is especially excited about is sharing a bed. He is very clingy around you and he is often being criticised for it from his clan as he as the head of the clan and the Hokage is expected to have a certain image. So sleeping with you is one of the few times where he is completely alone with you and can be as cuddly and affectione as he wants without being judged and he spends a good few minutes just showering you in soft kisses as soon as you lay down with him. He has always quite long hair but it isn't as unruly as Madara's hair, although it still gets everywhere. He has his arms always wrapped around you at night and he prefers falling asleep whilst facing you so that the last thing he sees at the end of the day is your face. If you consider his busy schedules, he really savours every moment every moment cuddling with you and starts pouting when you want to leave the sheets before him.

Tobirama Senju

🌊If we are being objective, Tobirama is probably the strictest one from the founders. He takes everything a tad bit too serious and despite being the younger brother of Hashirama, they are quite different. Tobirama can be incredibly manipulative and threatening as the one who orchestrates your potential downfall whilst forcing you to come back crawling to him. That being said, he does opt for the normal route at first which actually includes getting to know you and wooing you. Tobirama is hardcore traditional and he values traditions and doings of his clan that have been done generations before him. You are getting trapped in an arranged engagement and an eventual marriage though if you refuse his courting as Tobirama is actively going to blackmail you in which regard he is different from his older brother as Tobirama is very lucid of his own feelings. As much as he hates Madara, both have little to no shame in using everyting within their power to claim you if you shouldn't choose them freely.

🌊Yet he is actually someone who has another room prepared for you to sleep in as he is willing to give you time to adjust if the wedding shouldn't have been made with your own consens, although you will eventually stretch his patience if you take too long. You definitely have a time where he expects you to get your sleep which is ironic considering that he does stay awake up until early morning at times to finish some important work to the point where it is your job to remind him to sleep. Even then he takes much longer to fall asleep as he is the type to think too much in which case it would be quite relaxing for him to listen to your own breath if you should have fallen asleep before him. He always wakes up so early though and isn't even above waking you up as he isn't as familiar with the concept of just enjoying to lay in bed as you might be since he needs to be productive. He is very quiet as soon as he does fall asleep though and the loose hold he has on your waist isn't a challenge at night.

Tsunade Senju

🐌Tsunade is paranoid, protective and possessive and as much as she wants to make her darling happy, those different emotions don't necessarily align well with each other. The only bright side is that Tsunade is a sweetheart despite the tough appearance she might put on around others at times. She really cares about your wellbeing but her traumatic past has led her to be very frightened to lose another person she holds so dearly to her own heart. This can lead her to being very overprotective around you and that whole aspect is somehow made even worse when considering that she is a medic. Even if the encounter with Naruto has led her to overcome parts of her trauma, her obsession will definitely awaken some of those scary feelings again. She is very picky when choosing someone to keep an eye on you if she should be too busy and mostly Sakura or Shizune end up looking out for you as those are her students who have Tsunade's trust.

🐌She shares the same mindset as her grandfather does in a way. Being able to lay down after a long and exhausting day whilst being forced to deal with the old people in the council is her highlight where she gets to be as clingy and as affectione with you as she wants to be. She isn't going to actively force you but you know that you'll hurt part of her feelings and the way she handles that pain can lead you to feel very guilty. Tsunade is a strong woman and she knows that but it is a very rare instance where she actively has to hold her strength back whilst cuddling with you in bed because her grip can get very tight at times. Especially if she has a bad dream involving her dead brother and lover can her grip get very tight to the point where you wake up and have to shake her awake unless she wakes up startled and disturbed beforehand. She is so sweet and soft though as soon as both of you are laying under the sheets together whilst kissing you and telling you how much she loves you.

Pain

🌧️After Yahiko's death it is very safe to say that Nagato's whole view on the world shattered and emerged as something very dark and scary. The organisation which had been originally created to do good in the world has since become the very definition of fear and terror from the shadows as Pain has killed ever since without any morals. However, the blossoming obsession has brought out a deep-rooted fear within Nagato to lose you, someone he loves so much that he can't even bear it at times. That's why he immediately abducts you with one of the many bodies of Pain and locks you forever away in the tower where his real body resides, even though you don't know that just yet. By using his other bodies, he can't seem to express his feelings quite as he wants or even could which heightens your fear even more and within all of the isolation and terror Konan seems to be the only one who can initially help you to be less scared as well as advice Nagato what he should do to make you more comfortable.

🌧️I mean, his real body can't really lay down to sleep with you and I doubt that Nagato even sleeps much to begin with which leaves us with the many other bodies he controls. Honestly, this idea never crosses his mind since the remaining bodies of Pain are essentially dead humans he controls and don't require sleep. It is up to you to even bring this up and Konan reassures him that this is a good sign because it means you are comfortable enough around him which makes Nagato quite giddy on the inside. He feels a tad bit disappointed that he can't do it with his body but you're pretty much free to choose anyone of the other bodies of Pain to lay with you in bed. The metal piercings are always a cold shock on your skin though, not to mention that it is quite uncomfortable when the body of Pain gets too close to you and those things jab into your skin. The thing is that the body isn't even sleeping but instead they're watching you the entire time during the night so that's a great jumpscare to wake up to.

Obito Uchiha

🔥Obito has also been severely broken ever since Rin's death opened up his eyes to how cruel and twisted the world around him really is. He has dedicated himself to fulfill Madara's vision ever since and has lost all of the aspiration and principles he has held close to his heart back when he used to be young and naive. If you give a man who has nothing to lose anymore an obsession, you will fuel a fire until it becomes an all-consuming inferno and that is exactly what happens when Obito becomes absolutely infatuated with you. He is willing to do absolutely anything to protect you and will commit the most heinous crimes all in the name of his obsessive love. Nothing will touch you though, not even the flames that burn down everything around you. You are left with abduction and terrible isolation though as Obito keeps you away from the world that betrayed him and hurt him to protect you from all the cruelty out there. You may not understand and you may beg for freedom but Obito knows what's best.

🔥His sleep schedule is probably not the healthiest one but he really doesn't care as long as he gets to be clingy and can savour your body held against his own. He is so pushy and doesn't give you any chance to protest as he is instead sickenly sweet whenever you go to sleep and lay down. He wants to take care of you and by extent he is someone who will tell you at one point that you should get some sleep now as protecting you means also controlling your life. Even if your breath, your warmth and your scent should lure him into slumber it isn't very deep to begin with and he wakes up multiple times within an hour as neither his mind nor his heart allow him to rest well. As long as you have a good night of rest though, Obito is satisfied as this is all that matters to him. He doesn't mind staying awake for hours just to watch your sleeping face and feel his heart swelling when seeing you so vulnerable and sweet as it only aids him in his dark determination to protect you no matter what.

Itachi Uchiha

🍡No matter how guilty Itachi is over what he has done despite being fully aware of the wrongdoings of it, it doesn't change the fact that he has still abducted you and has made it impossible for you to lead a normal life anymore. He tries to make it up to you by being kind and considerate but ultimately he knows that nothing can ever fix his mistake that you have to suffer from for the rest of your life. He allows you the space and the silence though if you should need it as he understands that he would probably only fuel your fear and anger by being too pushy. So he allows you to distance yourself from him even if the loneliness hits him different now that he actually has someone he wishes to spend his time with. He still makes sure to take care of your basic needs by cooking and checking on you from time to time but otherwise he doesn't try to engage with you unless you make the first step by talking to him first. Honestly, you get a lot of time just for yourself though as Itachi has long missions.

🍡You have a separate room with your own place to sleep in as you aren't forced to share a futon with him at night. That doesn't imply that Itachi secretly doesn't long for you at night sometimes but he always reminds himself to be better than that. Sometimes loneliness still gets the better of him which leads Itachi to silently sneak into your room and watch you sleep for a while which makes him feel simultanously ashamed as well as peaceful when seeing you at least sleeping well despite your troubling circumstances. Sleeping with you will be done with your consens and a part of him feels much more relieved and fulfilled to have you much more willing and open around him even if he still knows that it's partially the isolation that has gotten to you. Itachi actually sleeps better when he has you next to him, although he still wakes up a few times and has a very light sleep. There is an unfamiliar feeling of joy and peace though when he has one arm wrapped around your warm body that leads him into a calmer sleep.

Neji Hyuga

🕊️Neji is honestly like a dream prince. You are the world to him and he absolutely adores you with every cell of his body. However, he is very delusional and protective due to this infatuation of his and even if he has some moments where he might sober up from his obsessive feelings, he always gets pulled back. He wants to marry you and he wants it pretty soon. He isn't as forceful as some other characters would be but he is almost always trying to warm you up to the idea and as soon as he has made the decision to ask you for your hand in marriage, he is sweet-talking and coaxing you into wanting the same thing as him. This is manipulative and toxic to the eye of a rational person but Neji genuinely believes every word that he says. He believes in all the sweet promises of love and romance because he knows that he'll only ever treat you with utter adoration and love. You should know better but it is hard to not fall for Neji's charm as he is so gentle and sincere about everything.

🕊️It is the same charm that will lure you into sharing a bed with him as well. Whilst Neji would be considerate enough to allow you your own room, although reluctantly and with some usage of his Byakugan to watch over you even if you're already asleep, he is coaxing you into something once again like he has done always with you. It is hard to not feel your heart flutter though when he wraps his arms around your body, kisses your forehead and listens to all your worries, hopes and memorable moments whilst looking at you with such adoration in his eyes as he's fully invested in everything you have to say. His hair is one of the softest things you have ever touched in your life and he gladly allows you to play with it a little bit whilst both of you are together in bed. Neji prefers to stay awake until you have fallen asleep as it gives him a feeling of security and peace to see you asleep before he himself also closes his eyes and enjoys your body pressed against his whilst also drifting off to sleep.

Sasuke Uchiha

💙He may not be as extreme as he used to be but Sasuke is fully capable of committing horrific things to ensure that you stay with him. An abduction is also a plan in that because Sasuke doesn't want to settle down anywhere for now so you have to take part on his journey and whilst he may ask you if you want to join him, don't even believe for a moment that he would accept a rejection from your side. He knows that he is doing something wrong but he is too possessive to be fully able to feel the extent of guilt that would be appropriate in this scenario. The worst part is that he is sometimes for days on end the only person you see as the next village may be still away and with that your next chance to be around someone who isn't Sasuke. As you are forced to spend so much time with Sasuke, you are always kept within his vision so he can keep an eye on you in case something happens and to reduce the chances of you doing something potentially stupid. You hate it at times so much.

💙For some reason, despite your initial impression that Sasuke is more of a distant individual, he insists from the very first night that you two should lay next to each other. Arguing with him can give you at most only a few days where he begrudgingly accepts that you sleep away from him but eventually he leaves you with no choice as he turns more forceful. At times it might actually be wiser to lay next to him because both of you are going to sleep outside a lot during his travels which means that it can be cold and windy which makes his body warmth quite useful and you can almost feel the smug grin crossing his lips when you have to cuddle yourself closer to him whilst goosebumps are covering your skin. Since both of you are outside though, he is much more alert due to being protective over you which makes him quite aware of his surroundings even whilst he is asleep. Surprisingly touchy with you at night too considering that he is much more reserved with it during the day.

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yandere-writer-momo · 6 months

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Yandere Baki Short Stories: Wish Upon A Star

Yandere Hanayama Kaoru x Sweet Afab Reader

This piece is a little darker and very unsettling. It’s over 7k words, making it one of my longest Baki pieces. I had a dream about this so I HAD to write it immediately. Hanayama cat >>>

TW: Yandere behavior, dubcon, mentions of past abuse, angst, fantasy elements, and other dark subjects. Do not proceed if you are sensitive to these topics. You have been warned

Red Salvias mean “Forever Mine”

“I don’t need your input on my personal life.” Kaoru said in a crossly tone, he glowered at his fiancée (your name). Despite this being an arranged relationship, she treated it as if they were truly in one. And it annoyed Kaoru to no end. “This is just an arrangement. Nothing more. I’d greatly prefer if you left me alone until the marriage.”

(Your name) shrunk under his gaze. The young woman did her best to make herself as small as possible, despite her already being dainty. She hadn’t meant to upset him, she merely wanted to spend time with him… she wanted to know him better so they wouldn’t be miserable together. Plus, he spent more time with other women rather than her. It wasn’t fair.

“I just wanted to-“ Kaoru held up his hand to cut her off, the yakuza boss pointed to his office door.

“See yourself out and take the bento with you. I don’t need your affections.” (Your name) bowed her head and took the bento with her while she held in a sniffle. She truly hadn’t meant to upset him…

“I won’t bother you again then. Have a good one.” (Your name) bowed her head to him for the final time before she turned on her heel and left. She wouldn’t make an attempt to get close to him again.

Kaoru grumbled and got back to his paperwork. His eyes glanced at her retreating figure. Hopefully she would keep her word.

(Your name) kicked off her shoes once she made it back to her small apartment. The young woman reached up to undo her bun as she locked her door behind her.

She sighed heavily before she plopped herself in her reading nook. Her body sunk into the plush pillows, the calming scent of lavender soothed her heavy heart.

“Rejected yet again.” (Your name) bitterly chuckled to herself. She hugged a pillow close to herself at an attempt at comfort. How foolish was she to think she could find the love she so desperately wanted all her life.

To cope with her loneliness, she’d read fairytales. The ones of romance and happy endings to dull the senses. Her only escape was in her head.

(Your name) sniffled, the dam that held back her tears started to crack. And soon a loud sob followed. Was there something wrong with her? Was she not pretty enough? Not curvaceous enough? Was she too loud?

(Your name) didn’t know but she knew none of the physical things mattered on Kaoru’s interest in her. She was her father’s daughter and their families had been at odds for generations. Their marriage was simply a truce to stop the blood shed between them.

(Your name) glanced at the night sky, her eyes filled with wonder at the shooting star that danced across the sky. A childish delight filled her pitiful form yet the bitterness from her rejection still burned in her heart.

“I wish...” (Your name) sniffled, her fingers wiped away a few of her tears. “I wish for him to fall in love with someone who has no interest in him.”

Kaoru strolled through an alleyway with one hand in his pocket and the other smoking a cigar. Every time he saw (your name), it left an awful taste in his mouth.

She always tried to come to him with her soft smiles, hopeful eyes, and warm meals. She reminded him of a bunny with those innocent eyes and shy glances. (Your name) was weak, she wouldn’t last in the yakuza world.

Kaoru took in a deep inhale of his cigar, the smoke burned his lungs a bit but it soothed his frustration. She was the daughter of his enemy. The chess piece meant to be a peace offering.

Kaoru would never be able to give her what she wanted. Not when her family has been at war with his for so many generations. Kaoru hated her for where she came from. She’d never have his heart nor a place in his bed. He only agreed to marry her to end the blood bath between their families.

Kaoru exhaled the smoke and stomped his cigar out under his shoes. Even the thought of her disgusted him.

Kaoru glanced up at the sky, a bright light caught his eye. Was that a shooting star?

Kaoru chuckled to himself, a bitter wish spilt from his lips.

“I wish for that woman to no longer be interested in me.”

And that’s when a bright light consumed him. His eyes wide in shock as his body began to shrink and sprout white fur that matched the suit he wore. What the hell was going on?!

And before Kaoru could get a word out, he was now a cat. A very fluffy one at that.

How on earth was going to explain this one to Kizaki?

For three days Kaoru roamed the Tokyo streets as a cat. So far, he’s been chased off by his own men and had rocks thrown at him from ornery children. Kaoru had no choice but to hide from the elements and the people. They weren’t friendly to cats that looked like him.

Kaoru had seen his reflection in a puddle. Sure he was a Persian but his face was riddled in ugly scars. What may have made him intimidating as a man, only made him ugly as a cat. No one wanted to touch or take care of a cat that looked like it fought.

Kaoru was miserable and at this rate, he may die of starvation. He didn’t know anything about being a cat. He has never been so humiliated in his life.

And that was when he heard a familiar, soft voice. His body froze from under the dumpset. (Your name)…

Kaoru peaked out from the dumpster, his now copper eyes took in her familiar form as she bought groceries at a local market. Why was she in a place like this? She was the daughter of a yakuza boss. She should be at an estate.

“Are you sure you’re alright dear? You look so tired.” The elderly cashier expressed concern for (your name).

“I’m alright. Thank you for your concern, Hana.” (Your name) gave the cashier a smile. Her arms scooped up the paper grocery bag. “Thank you for the fresh fish.”

“Of course! You need some more sleep. Maybe you’ll attract a husband then?” (Your name) had a disgruntled expression on her face, but it was gone in a flash.

“Maybe. Thank you again.” (Your name) bowed a bit in respect. And then she was off.

Kaoru immediately pursued her, his fluffy tail stood straight up. His small paws tottered after her.

Come on… look at me. Turn this way.

(Your name) sadly was not a mind reader so Kaoru had no choice but to swallow his pride and…

“Meow.” (Your name) froze in her tracks, her head turned around to see the fluffy Persian that sat behind her expectantly. Its white tail flicked back and forth like a clock.

(Your name) studied the scarred cat in curiosity. What on earth was a Persian doing on the street? That breed was such a high maintenance one and it could get sick… was it abused?

(Your name) bent down and held her hand out for the cat to sniff. She didn’t have a clue that this cat was her fiancé.

Kaoru reluctantly rubbed his head against her hand. His copper eyes stared up at her pretty face. Even he had to admit that she was attractive despite their circumstances.

“Are you lost?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, her expression soft. “Poor thing…”

(Your name) frowned at the mats in the cat’s white fur and the dirt on it. It was most likely abandoned… just like her.

(Your name) slowly wrapped her hand around the cat and hoisted it up in her arm next to her groceries.

“You’re a heavy thing.” (Your name) whispered while she continued on her way to her apartment. A small smile on her lips when she felt the cat’s stomach growl. “And you’re hungry… well I have some extra fish. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Kaoru sighed. Of course she’s take in an ugly cat like him. If he would have known, he would have come to her first.

Hopefully this situation was temporary. He had no intention of staying with her once he became human again… or so he thought.

(Your name) gently bathed the cat in her tub. Her fingers gently worked through the mats with dish soap. So far, the cat has been silent since she’s brought it home.

Perhaps the cat’s trauma made it mute? The cat didn’t even purr when she pet it. It hurt her heart to know this poor animal has never felt love before.

“I wonder if you’re a boy or a girl?” (Your name) muttered, her hands turn the cat around to check. The cat hissed loudly and swatted at her. “Oh I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to upset you.”

(Your name) apologized to the cat like it would understand her (Kaoru did). But she caught a glimpse of male genitals so now she knew her furry companion was a boy.

(Your name) scratched the cat behind the ears while she pulled the plug to the tub. She then gently picked the cat up and dried it with some towels. She found that the cat’s entire body was covered in so many scars. Most likely from years of abuse.

(Your name) studied the cat’s face in thought. Now that she had a better look at the cat… “You’re a little ugly.”

Kaoru furrowed his brow, which made (your name) giggle at how grumpy the cat looked. “But you’re also kind of cute.”

Kaoru flicked his tail back and forth while she continued to dry him off. He was perplexed. Even when he was a cat, she was still sweet to him.

Kaoru couldn’t understand her. What did she gain from this? How could someone be so kind to a fault?

Kaoru felt something stir in him as his copper eyes studied her face. A thought running through his head for only but a single moment…Had she always been this beautiful?

Kaoru was fed pretty nice meals for a cat. (Your name) would share some of her vegetables and fish with him. Food he knew he’d never find on the streets.

Yet he’d catch her nearly prepare a lunchbox once and awhile. The young woman would mumble curses at herself and hurriedly feed him whatever she was about to prepare.

“Oops. A bad habit. How could I be so stupid?” (Your name) quietly scolded herself once more before she fed Kaoru the chicken she had cut up. “Here you go. At least it will go to someone who will eat it.”

It took Kaoru a week to realize that her bad habit was preparing a lunch box for him. Human him at least. She had truly stuck to her promise of not bothering him again but Kaoru could see the hurt in her eyes whenever she caught herself. Why did she look so sad? They barely knew each other?

Kaoru’s copper eyes observed her clean up the kitchen in haste. She was such an anxious thing. She was like a scared bunny. Always jumping at the slightest noise and apologizing. Kaoru found it kind of endearing.

Kaoru perked up when she sat at the little nook in the center of the apartment. Her dainty body sunk into the cushions while the city lights reflected off her eyes. She looked so beautiful… like an angel.

Kaoru found himself trotting over to her before he realized it. His feline body now seated beside her.

“Oh? Do you want to see?” (Your name) softly asked him before she picked him up and placed him on her lap. The view was beautiful from the window. Kaoru could see most of the city from here. “I bought this room just for the view…”

Kaoru turned his head up to look at her face, only to be taken aback by the sadness in her eyes. Why did she always look so sad?

“I hope to enjoy it furfor as long as I can… I wonder if I’ll have a nice view once I have to get married?” (Your name) thought aloud, which made Kaoru freeze. “I hope… I’ll just sit there all day and read. I’ll be quiet. I’ll be good.”

And that’s when Kaoru slowly began to realize the signs. She was always so quiet, her voice was barely above a whisper at all times. She’s never been treated well.

Kaoru felt so awful when he felt a few tears drop on his head. He had assumed she was an awful person because of her family and yet she was just as much a victim. She was genuine and she had hoped to cultivate a relationship with him because she’s never had one.

Kaoru rubbed his head against her hands which shocked her. His copper eyes took in the small smile on her face. He burned it into his memory.

“Are you comforting me?” (Your name) gently held the cat close to her chest. Her fingers pet the cat’s head fondly. “Thank you… Yuki.”

And for the first time in the week and a half she’s had him, Kaoru purred.

Kaoru found himself rubbing against (your name)’s legs whenever she was in the kitchen after two months with her. His custom made collar jingled while he purred. Kaoru was content with her. He was happy to be by her side.

She’d talk to him sometimes and she’d read to him her favorite stories. (Your name) let him sleep beside her in her soft bed. His feline life was peaceful with her. Kaoru wanted to stay with her. He wanted to make her smile. He wanted to make her laugh.

She told him her secrets. Of how abusive her family was. How she was scared of thunder storms. How she would hide in her closet whenever she was scared. And what her father did to her first pet. How she wished she could move far away and start over. It made his blood boil to know what she’s been through.

Kaoru didn’t want her to ever be sad or scared again. He only wanted her to smile and to live a peaceful life. Kaoru would give her an amazing life if he ever became a man again.

Kaoru would make sure she could eat her favorite meal more often. He would sit with her as she read aloud. He would hold her close if a thunderstorm passed through and whisper sweet things into her ear. He would make love to her every night. He’d spoil her like a princess. He’d give her the world.

But with her interest in him as her cat, as her companion Yuki, he failed to realize that she had completely lost interest in him as a man.

A harsh reality he’d soon come to realize…

“I’ll be out for groceries.” (Your name) smiled warmly at her cat. Kaoru purred as he sat by the door. “I won’t be long.”

Kaoru sat by the door, even when it clicked shut. His paws touched the wood as his heart raced. Six months with her… he’s been by her side for six months. And it made him realize how much he loved her. How he adored her. Kaoru wanted to tell her… he needed to tell her.

“I love you.” Kaoru was shocked when he spoke rather than meow. His body soon began to change back into that of a man. The small purple collar snapped but Kaoru was able to quickly tuck it into his suit pocket.

Was this whole situation some crap version of beauty and the beast? Was love what broke the strange magic off of him?

Kaoru admired his hands and stretched them. It was nice to be a man again… but (your name) wouldn’t understand why he was there… maybe he should make it look like the cat was taken?

He’d have to make a scene in this apartment and then he’d have to find a way to explain his absence to Kizaki.

And what better excuse to use than to say (your name)’s family had harmed him? Kaoru was going to have to make sure to rough himself up before he went home.

Kaoru used his strength to break the door knob off and threw it against the wall on the apartment. Her then threw her cheap coffee table across the room and broke a few glasses. There. Now it was a breaking and entering.

Kaoru quickly fled the scene before he was seen. He didn’t want to be caught in her home and he didn’t want anyone to see him.

Kaoru’s heart hurt. He knew she’d be so crushed that her cat was gone but he’d swoop in to save her.

He’d be her prince just like the ones in those fairytale books she loved so much.

(Your name) held her groceries close to her chest. Her heart fluttered at the thought of Yuki being excited to see her.

She made sure to buy his favorite, salmon. Maybe he’d like to sit at the table with her?

That cat had no idea how he saved her from her pit of despair. How he made her want to live again.

(Your name) began to climb up the steps to her apartment but she stopped halfway. Her eyes wide in horror when she saw police outside her door.

“Ma’am is this your apartment?”

“Y-yes.” It was so hard for her to breathe. Yuki… was Yuki okay?

“I’m afraid there’s been a burglary-“ the cop froze when she dashed up the steps and frantically checked her house. “Ma’am. This is a crime scene.”

“I just need to make sure Yuki is okay…” (your name) felt her body tremble when her beloved cat didn’t come to her. Has her father taken yet another thing she loved from her?

“Ma’am-“ the cop froze when he saw the young woman sob. The cop awkwardly put an an around her.

“I’m sorry ma’am. Is there a place you can stay until the investigation is over?” The cop softly asked. “And you called out for a Yuki. Is that a child?”

“No… he’s my cat.” Her life. He was her life and he was gone.. gone.

(Your name) sat in her old room at her family’s compound over the last few days. She never wanted to come back here but her father didn’t want her to become ‘damaged goods.’

(Your name) curled up in the dark room and hugged her knees. A small light from the ceiling her only light.

Perhaps this was her fate? To live in a dark room for the rest of her life without any light. All for being a (last name).

“Yuki…” (your name) softly whispered, her hands held her body tighter. She should have just fled with her cat when she had the chance. She no longer craved love from anyone.

All she needed was her animal companion and she would have been content. Animals were better than people. They didn’t hurt her unless they were scared. Not like people… not like her father.

(Your name) jumped when gunshots and screams echoed throughout the estate. What was going on?

(Your name) began to panic, her head whipped over to her closet. The young woman crawled into it and made herself as small as possible. She just needed to make herself small… tiny and invisible. She wasn’t here. She was far away.

(Your name) was far away and with Yuki. She was safe. There weren’t footsteps in her room- there were loud footsteps in her room.

(Your name) put her hands over her mouth and held her breath. Her body as still as water.

The figure now stood in front of her door. She could see their large silhouette. She was going to die. (Your name) hoped someone took care of Yuki, if he was still alive. That they’d feed him bits of salmon and let him lay with them.

When the door opened, she was surprised to be pulled into a hug. A large body held her tightly to his, his body shook in powerful tremors.

“It’s okay… you’re okay.” (Your name) froze at the voice. Kaoru? Why was… why was he here? “Your husband has you.”

(Your name) was still frozen in fear, which made it easier for Kaoru to scoop her up in his arms. The yakuza boss pushed her face into his neck.

“Don’t look, okay? You don’t need to see them anymore.”

(Your name) trembled and clutched onto his shirt. She didn’t have to look to know what he had done. She knew he massacred her family.

The question was… why didn’t he kill her too?

“Boss, if you want I can take care of her-“ (your name) flinched when she heard a loud slap. Her body still held tightly against Kaoru’s.

“Don’t even think about touching her.” Kaoru pressed his lips against the top of her head. “She is mine. Do you understand?”

Kaoru safely escorted (your name) into his limousine. His arms held her tightly and refused to let her go. It confused (your name) to no end.

Why was he so sweet with her now? What made her special?

Or… was he just prolonging her inevitable death?

Kaoru was frustrated. Despite (your name) being with him for a month now, she refused to come out of her room. She trembled whenever he touched her and it upset him.

“Boss, what’s gotten into you?” Kaoru froze when Kizaki furrowed his brow. “You’ve been so… obsessed with Miss (last name)-“

“Missus Hanayama.” Kaoru corrected Kizaki. The man swirled his whiskey in his glass in thought. “Why is she so scared of me-“

“You killed her family. I think that’s a normal human reaction.” Kizaki pointed out which only made Kaoru huff.

“She hated them. They were awful to her-“

“How do you know so much about her anyways?” Kizaki asked with his brow furrowed. “Where were you actually for the last eight months? Were you truly being held captive?”

Kaoru sighed and gave Kizaki a look. “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me. But (your name) saved me.” Kaoru muttered, his expression soft. “I love her.”

Kizaki sighed. He could tell Kaoru was telling the truth and he knew Kaoru meant every word he said.

“Okay… just start off small with her?” Kizaki advised Kaoru. “Maybe you could eat with her or something?”

Kaoru’s face lit up when an idea hit him. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

“Kizaki. Let’s move her to a room with a big window and add a reading nook in front of it.” Kaoru smiled at Kizaki. “She’ll love it.”

(Your name) was led by Kaoru’s servants to a new room. The young woman clutched her hands close to her chest in nervousness. He’s been hovering around her for the last month like a surveillance drone. Had he been plotting all this time? Was she finally being brought to her execution?

(Your name) was shocked when the doors opened to reveal a cozy room with a reading nook that was eerily similar to her one at the apartment. Except it was much bigger than her old one. How did he know she loved a reading nook and how did he pick the same colors?

(Your name)’s fingers traced over the large nook in wonder. It looked so cozy…

“Do you like it?” (Your name) nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard Kaoru’s deep voice. Her head whipped around to see him standing in her rooms, the servants had already skittered away like mice. “I thought it would make you more comfortable.”

(Your name) glanced towards the floor. She was still scared of Kaoru… and she felt as if his kindness had a hidden motive. She was terrified of him.

“It’s lovely. Thank you.” (Your name) jumped a bit when Kaoru grabbed a strand of her hair. The oyabun pressed a tender kiss to the silky strands.

“I just want to make my wife happy.” (Your name) was shocked when Kaoru suddenly pulled her into a hug. His lips pressed to the top of her head.

“Oh… but we don’t have to keep the arrangement now.” (Your name) replied in a mousy tone. If she had rabbit ears, they’d be folded back. “You’re free from the promise between our families-“

(Your name) squealed when Kaoru grabbed her face, his obsidian eyes filled with an emotion she’d never seen on his face.

“Has someone told you to leave me?” Kaoru asked, his eyes filled with an angry fire. “Have any of the servants been mean to you? You can tell me.”

“N-no.” (Your name) began to cry which made Kaoru move his hand down to hold her. “I… you said you didn’t want my affections…”

Kaoru froze in horror. He had forgotten he had told her that almost a year ago… that he always pushed this beautiful, sweet girl away.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” Kaoru bent down and pressed kisses all over her cheeks. “I will make it up to you. You’ll live a good life with me.”

(Your name) gasped when he picked her up and laid with her in the large nook that perfectly fit the two of them. Kaoru’s large hand moved to hold her head again his chest. His heart drummed in his chest and his cheeks felt warm since he was close to her.

This was the way it was supposed to be… this was perfect. His princess was safe and sound in his arms.

(Your name) sniffled but relaxed in his hold. There was something oddly comforting about Kaoru but she couldn’t put her finger on it. He knew so much about her… it was scary. She’s never told anyone anything about herself.

Except her cat, Yuki. She hoped he was okay. She hoped he wasn’t on the streets starving or cold. She felt like an awful pet parent.

“What’s on your mind?” Kaoru asked in a gentle tone. His cheek pressed against the top of her head.

“…I miss my cat.” (Your name) admitted in a whisper which made Kaoru frown. He was her cat… but that would be such a strange thing to admit.

“You can tell me about you cat.” Kaoru replied. “Maybe I could help you find him?”

“Really? You’d do that for me?” Kaoru’s breath hitched at the beautiful smile on her face. There it was… there was her smile.

“Of course I would.” Kaoru smiled down at her. “I’d do anything for you.”

(Your name) smiled and cuddled into his chest. Yes… she’d find her cat.

And then she’d make a run for it.

Kaoru made a lot of effort to help her find her beloved cat. He had a sketch artist draw her description and he even walked around the city with her whenever he wasn’t busy. Kaoru was wonderful to her.

She began to trust him and accept his subtle touches as the weeks turned to months.

Kaoru would have his chefs prepare all of her favorite meals and he’d sit with her on her nook to read.

Kaoru would make sure to cover her windows if there was going to be a thunder storm. He would even lay with her in her bed and hold her when it was storming. He didn’t care when she shook and cried, he’d shush her with sweet words.

(Your name) just couldn’t figure out how he knew so much about her without her telling him anything. He was a completely different man now.

It was almost like he was a prince… but that pain of the rejection from long ago was still there. She wasn’t sure if she could be with him romantically.

Today would be the first time she would seek him out. (Your name) felt bad that he always doted on her.

(Your name) opened his office door and peered in. He must have been out.

She was about to leave but something purple caught her eye. Was that… Yuki’s collar?

(Your name)’s hand shook as she lifted up the collar to her eyes to examine it. The engraved heart name tag broke her heart. It was Yuki’s…

(Your name) felt her knees buckle from under her but strong arms caught her. Kaoru had snuck up on her and flipped her over into an embrace. His face buried in the crook of her neck.

“I can explain-“

“Is he…” (your name) felt a sob rack through her body when Kaoru only held her tighter. He knows she’d never believe him if he told her the truth.

“I was so afraid to tell you. I didn’t want you to fall apart thinking you’re alone.” Kaoru whispered, his lips pressed against her shoulder blades. “I’m here.”

(Your name) melted into his hold. Kaoru was right. He was here and he was warm. He looked just like Yuki in his white suit. He even had the same facial scars…

(Your name) froze while her mind began to race. How did Kaoru know she was scared of thunderstorms? How did he know she loved to sit by a window in a nook and the color scheme she liked? How did he know about her abuse? Her favorite food?

Kaoru suddenly was affectionate with her when he had only ever ignored her and pushed her to the side.

“Kaoru…” (your name) felt like something was stuck in her throat when Kaoru nuzzled his head on her shoulder the same way Yuki did.

“Yes?”

“This is going to sound crazy but… are you Yuki?” (Your name) felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up when Kaoru went completely silent. “That was stupid to say wasn’t it. I’m sorry-“

Kaoru silenced her with his lips. His hands grabbed at her flesh like she was his lifeline.

(Your name) gasped when he shoved his tongue into her mouth and eagerly danced with hers. His body trembled and his embrace tightened like a snake’s coils.

(Your name)’s eyes were still wide while Kaoru sensually moved his lips and tongue against her still ones. What… what was he doing?

Kaoru slowly pulled away, his body shivered. His cheeks were a bit rosy and he felt so warm. He finally kissed the woman he loved.

“I love you.” Kaoru whispered, his eyes filled with so much adoration in them that (your name) thought she would drown. “I love you so much.”

The wish… she had wished for him to fall in love with someone who was not interested in him… why did it have to be her?

Kaoru frowned when she didn’t reply. Her eyes stared straight ahead.

“Say something… please.” Kaoru furrowed his brow. His heart hammered in his chest in anticipation of her answer. “Do you love me too?”

(Your name) shook her head, her hands tightly gripped his white suit.

“There was a shooting star almost a year ago… what did you wish for?” (Your name) muttered under her breath. Her body shook like a leaf.

Kaoru went still. The star… the star turned him into a cat. Was that (your name)‘s wish? Had she… no. She wouldn’t wish him harm. She was too kind.

“I wished… for you to no longer be interested in me.” Kaoru whispered, he gave her body a squeeze from in his inescapable hold. “But I love you now so we can be together-“

“I wished for you to fall in love with someone who wasn’t interested in you.” (Your name) whispered so softly that Kaoru almost didn’t hear it. The tears started to fall down her face. Their wishes corresponded with each other’s… is that why it was granted. “But it wasn’t supposed to be me. You’re not supposed to love me-“

Kaoru pressed another kiss to her lips. His whole body shook. She couldn’t be uninterested in him. He was the perfect man for her. He knew everything about her. They shared so much with each other. She completed him.

“Perhaps this was meant to be then?” Kaoru replied, his hands tugged his tie loose. “It doesn’t matter because I’ll make you love me.”

(Your name) could only cry when his lips descended against hers.

She should have never wished upon a star.

(Your name) found herself in Kaoru’s bed as he hurriedly undressed himself. The twenty five year old cursed a bit in his frustration.

Kaoru had lit candles around the room for a dim, romantic lighting. Yet he was restless.

“I wanted this to be perfect… I don’t want you to experience anything less than perfect.” Kaoru sighed while he ran a hand through his hair. The black tresses now a bit messy. “But it’s all fallen apart now.”

“Kaoru?” (Your name) gulped when he glanced towards her. His eyes heavy with a mixture of lust and obsession.

“Yes, my wife?” (Your name) shivered when he sat himself on the bed beside her shivering form. “What’s wrong, dear?”

“I… I don’t want this-“

“You will.” Kaoru smiled at her, his lips pressed against her forehead. “I’ll show you just how much a man can love a woman. I’ll show you love and pleasure you’ve never experienced before.”

Kaoru’s lips descended to softly kiss her stomach. His eyes glanced up expectantly into hers.

“You’re so beautiful. My beautiful wife.” Kaoru whispered. His lips trailed up her stomach while his hands pushed her shirt up. “I want to see all of you… I want to love all of you.”

(Your name) tried to push him away but Kaoru grabbed her hands and kissed them. His expression soft.

“It’s like it’s the first time again for me… except I’m going to make love to the love of my life.”

“K-Kaoru. Please-“ Kaoru pressed his lips against hers and pulled her hips into his. A gasp escaped her lips when she felt something big press against her. There was no way… there was no way he was going to fit.

Kaoru could feel her nervousness so he helped her out of her shirt. His hands and lips covered every bit of bare skin he could reach.

“It’s okay. If you get scared, you can hold onto me.” Kaoru smiled at her, his hands tugged her pants down.

(Your name) inhaled a deep breath when Kaoru tenderly pressed his lips against hers. His plump lips nearly devoured hers from how much bigger he was than her. She felt as if she was a lamb about to be slaughtered rather than a lover.

Kaoru moved his lips from her to kiss her cheeks and down her neck. He made sure to greedily suck on each sensitive spot to leave his mark on her.

Kaoru snapped her bra apart with two of his fingers with ease. His breath hitched at the sight of her bare chest.

“So beautiful… my beautiful wife.” Kaoru sung her praises while he continued to kiss and nip at her flesh.

Kaoru then gently placed one of her pert buds in his mouth and gave it a suckle. His pointer finger and thumb softly pinched the neglected nipple while he paid utmost attention to her pert chest. A smile on his lips when (your name) began to moan and gasp under him. There it was. She was starting to fall under his spell.

Kaoru continued to suckle her chest, the man switched between each nipple to give them both equal attention. His tongue and teeth circled each bud in a salacious manner. Small waves of pleasure began to stir within (your name) as her eyes stayed locked with his. She couldn’t look away no matter how badly she wanted to cover her face in her hands. And that only encouraged Kaoru to take more steps.

(Your name) gasped when his fingers ran up and down her clothed slit. Her lacy panties her last line of defense from his starving eyes. Kaoru’s expression lit up at the dampness.

“I knew I could make you feel good… I’ll be slow, okay?” Kaoru quickly ripped the panties off her and threw them across the room. The man pulling back a bit to admire her completely bare form. “Beautiful. You’re so beautiful.”

“Kaoru, please-“ (your name) gasped when Kaoru began to kiss down her stomach until he stopped right on her pelvis. Kaoru gave her one last look before he dragged his tongue down her damp slip, which was only the beginning.

Kaoru gave her one last look before he dove into her folds. His tongue swirling and thrusting into her entrance. Sinful noises echoed throughout the room, his hands held her hips in place so there was no escape from him.

The young woman elicited sharp gasps at the sensation, her hips bucked forward and her toes curled. Her fingers tangled in his dark lock to try to ground herself from his assault. Her body betrayed her mind as he began to bring her to the brink of ecstasy.

And Kaoru knew that from the way her body began to go taut and the cute bit of drool that dripped down her lips. She didn’t need to fight it, he wouldn’t waste anything she’d give him.

(Your name) cried when her orgasm tore through her. Her body convulsed and shook to try to get away from Kaoru but he kept going. The man greedily riding her orgasm with her until she felt so over stimulated and spent.

(Your name) felt her body go slack with bliss. The poor girl has never experienced anything like this in her entire life. Not nearly to that magnitude.

(Your name) gasped when Kaoru sunk a finger into her, the man hummed at how greedily her pussy sucked the digit in. Her face scrunched up at the uncomfortable stretch. His finger was so thick…

“So greedy. Do you want some more?” Kaoru softly asked her with a smile. A bit of her essence glistened on his lips, his pink muscle quickly darted out to lick it off. “I’ll have to prepare you a bit more. I’m more than likely bigger than any man you may have had before.”

“I… I haven’t been with a man.” (Your name) nearly screamed when Kaoru began to thrust his finger in and out of her. His eyes filled with stars and his mouth agape.

“Then… then that makes you all mine.” Kaoru whispered in a hushed tone. (Your name) could only gasp when he began to insert a second digit. “My wife… my beautiful wife.”

(Your name) began to cry from how over stimulated she was. Her poor body trembled as his fingers expertly curled in and out of her. Her hands grabbed his forearms to try to brace herself.

“You’re ready.” Kaoru pulled his fingers from her, his fingers covered in her fluids. Kaoru pulled apart his fundoshi to reveal himself to her. (Your name)’s eyes widened in terror. There was no way… no way that was going to fit inside of her.

(Your name) attempted to scoot back but Kaoru was faster. His hands grabbed her ankles and yanked him back towards him. The man smiled down at her as he aligned himself.

“I’ll be gentle… just hold onto my back.” Kaoru pressed kisses to her knuckles, his hands placed her on his back. “I love you.”

And he pushed in, his bulbous tip pushed past her tight muscles to enter her warmth. His eyes rolled back in his head from the sensation.

“So tight… you’re so tight.” Kaoru hissed, his body shook as he slowly eased himself into her. His eyes softened at her tears. “It’s okay. It will only hurt for a bit. I promise.”

Kaoru kissed away the tears in her cheeks until he was all the way in. His hands affectionately rubbed the bulge on her stomach. His eyes held so much love, (your name) swore she was drowning in it.

Kaoru gave an experimental thrust, his eyes studied her expression in awe. Her cute little gasp only egged him on.

(Your name) clutched onto Kaoru as he began to thrust. Her body slowly was being pounded into the mattress by this massive man.

“You’re too big.” (Your name) cried, her body shifted from under him. She could feel him all the way in her guts. She could feel his tip forcefully kissing her cervix in a way she didn’t think possible. He was all she could feel. All she could smell. And now she was all his.

“You’ll get used to me as time goes on. You’re taking me so well.” Kaoru grunts from above her. He made sure not to be too rough with his thrusts despite the temptation to pound her into oblivion. “You feel so good… like a dream. You were made for me.”

Kaoru smirked when she let out a loud moan at a particular spot he thrusted. He found her special spot. He quickly angled her hips up and began to hit that spot repeatedly.

(Your name) whined when she felt that coil start to build up. Kaoru’s palm pressed down on her stomach to help her reach her high.

“It’s too much! Too much!” (Your name) felt her body be brought to the edge of yet another orgasm. Her toes curled and her body stiffened.

“I love you.” Kaoru whispered into her ear, his body trembled from above her. “I’m so close… I’m so fucking close. Please say you love me…”

“I…” She knew she wouldn’t mean it but she was currently lost in pleasure. She only wanted this to be over so she didn’t care about the consequences. “I love you too.”

“Cum for me.” Kaoru smiled down at her, his body trembled from above hers, his thumb rubbed lazy circles on her neglected clit. The sensation of her scratching his back and tightening around him was too much. “We’ll cum together.”

(Your name) came with a cry, her body convulsed and her fingernails dug deeply into Kaoru’s skin. And she felt something hot fill her. Without a doubt she knew he had came inside of her but she was so tired… she didn’t want to think about the consequences of this tryst.

Kaoru’s breathing was heavy, his cheeks a bit rosy from the ordeal. He never felt so fulfilled… so loved.

Poor (your name) was so exhausted. Her body sunk into the plush mattress. Kaoru pulled out, their fluids spilling out of her in a small stream of white. Kaoru marveled at his work for a second, his fingers pushed some of his cum back into her to prevent too much of a mess.

Kaoru plopped his body beside hers, his arms caged her in to stay with him. He placed tender kisses all over the top of her head.

“You did so good. You took me so well.” Kaoru grabbed the sheets and pulled them over her. He cuddled his large from into her smaller one. “I love you so much.”

(Your name) felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. And she had no desire to fight off her body’s desire to sleep.

Kaoru smiled down at her sleeping form, his fingers plays with a few of her silky strands of hair.

“I love you.” Kaoru whispered in her ear. “I’m so happy you love me too.”

Kaoru ran his fingers through her scalp while she slept. How could someone be so beautiful? So perfect? He was so happy he was able to please her. To show her pleasure and his love for her.

Tomorrow he would scoop her up and take a bath with her if she wanted. And then he’d get them breakfast in bed before he had to leave for work. He wondered if she wanted to get married soon since they’ve taken this big step together.

Hanayama Kaoru would do everything in his powers to make her dreams come true. Kaoru would keep her safe from the world outside until his final breath. He would do his best to be her Prince Charming like the ones in those fairy tale books she loved so much.

Sadly he failed to realize that he was no Prince. He was the dragon that kept the princess locked in a tower.

“We’re going to be together forever.”

462 notes · View notes

imagine-darksiders · 1 year

Note

So, what do you think of this? Bowser sees Y/N in an extreme state of danger, like, I dunno, trying to be taken against her will by an arranged Prince suitor or something, and the state of her distress/fear get's him so mad he transforms into Giga Bowser.

Well, first of all, I have done nothing BUT think of this for the past week! Thanks so much for the inspiration! Here's a little drabble <3

TW: Physical abuse, Kidnapping, Captive Reader, Implied arranged marriage, Giga Bowser is kinda scary? Mentions of being eaten etc

----

Bowser's thunderous footsteps come grinding to a halt of their own accord, stilling the colossal Koopa in his tracks at the opposite end of the docks, his eyes bulging open at the sight that looms out of the mist to greet him.

He's found you, his little runaway, for which he's rendered breathless with palpable relief.

But to his mounting dismay, there's another human with you.

A stranger...

A man.

And not only is this man encroaching well into your personal space, but his hands have captured your wrists as well, keeping you anchored in place with his chest shoved firmly against yours.

The pair of you are so wrapped up in the presence of the other, that neither one of you notices the King lurking nearby.

For a single beat, Bowser almost can't tear his wild-eyed stare away from the fingertips squeezing into your supple skin.

But then, he hears your voice, laden with thick and palpable alarm that's badly disguised by the composure you're attempting to maintain.

“Falkner, please,” you're shakily telling the other human, “Whatever agreement you may have had with my father is null and void now that he's dead!”

“Bullshit!” the stranger is quick to contend, giving you a rough jostle that throws fuel on the fire already raging in Bowser's gut, “Your old man promised you to me! I didn't sail halfway around the world just to be told no!”

Neither of you register the Koopa, not even when he lowers his horned head and takes a heavy, dangerous step towards you, his hackles starting to rise just like his gorge.

Just who the Hell does this idiot think he is to speak to you so crassly?!

Another step sends the pebbles near his feet skittering across the ground.

Your jaw is set, but you continue to tug at your ensnared wrists as you retort, “Promises made in a drunken stupor are hardly binding agreements!”

The man's face is swiftly changing from sallow and pallid to a vivid crimson and he parts his lips to shout, “You are mine by rights! You're coming with me!”

“Let me GO!” At last, perhaps inevitably, your voice cracks.

Bowser's jaw aches with how tightly his fangs are wedged together.

He can feel a fireball trying to crawl its way up his throat, leaving a sting that burns like venom along the walls of his trachea, but he gulps it down. No matter how great and terrible his rage might grow, he'd be remiss to let an attack loose with you so close to the firing line.

But there's something else building in his chest. Something swollen and ugly that rumbles like a slumbering giant just underneath his scales when he sees the moisture glistening on your dainty eyelashes.

Bowser hasn't ever seen you cry. Not even when he informed you that you'd be a permanent guest at his castle. Not even when it dawned on you that you could never go back to your old home across the seas. Not even when you fell from your window during an escape attempt and sprained your ankle, and the pain was great enough that you actually clung to him as he lifted you gently into his arms, your lips stuffed together to refrain from whimpering.

So to see you this close to tears now instills an outrage in him that differs from his usual temper. This is tumultuous. Primal, even.

He wants you to notice him now, to glance over and see that he's here for you, that you'll be all right because Bowser would never let anything bad happen to you.

Heart aflame, his pace quickens to a lurching gallop.

With a wrench, you manage to free one of your hands from Falkner's grip and use it to pry his fingers from your remaining wrist. “I said, GET! OFF!”

The anger in Bowser's chest dims only slightly to make room for a burst of pride.

But that momentary delight is stamped out as swiftly as it comes.

In an awful, jarring instant, the man - evidently fed up with your continued resistance – reels his hand back into the air behind his head, fingers pressed together, open-palmed...

Bowser can see the disaster unfurling right in front of him, but his shame is in knowing that he was too slow to stop it from happening.

The hand hurtles forwards...

A harrowing 'CRACK' ruptures the air as calloused skin meets the vulnerable flesh of your cheek.

Your head is flung sideways and you cry out, eyes wide with shock, and it's only then that your startled gaze land upon your audience. Cheek humming, the tears finally spill over the walls of your eyelids, tumbling in ceaseless rivulets down your face.

You choke on a wet sob, unable to drag your gaze away from the Koopa.

You can't summon the will to be pleased for his interference, if anything, you're ashamed to have been caught by your captor in a moment of such vulnerability.

Perhaps it's the tears distorting your vision, or perhaps the slap had knocked something loose in your brain, but through blurred vision, you think you can see a change come over Bowser, and if you didn't know any better, you'd almost swear that he was growing.

A hiss from your side catches your attention, but you don't turn to look at Falkner, though you can see him flapping his hand about to rid it of the lingering sting. “Damn,” he sucks a breath through his teeth, “Now look what you made me do... If you hadn't been so difficult, I wouldn't've had to do-” He finally notices the ground trembling beneath his leather boots. "-that...?"

Whatever had been hiding under the surface of Bowser's scales is howling out with rage, stirred from its slumber by the vicious and unprovoked attack on his friend.

Muscles ripple and bulge as they expand, bones snap, twisting out of shape. The Koopa King's gums burn as his fangs grow longer, sharper, squeaking against one another whilst his rapidly changing jaw struggles to keep up with their rate of growth.

It's agony, this transformation, but it can't be helped.

His friend has been struck. Hurt. And everything in him, every last instinct and sinew and atom, is bellowing out at him that he needs to protect you.

He would swallow this agony over and over again if it keeps you from experiencing pain.

He may be monstrous in size and temperament, but he isn't a monster.

He can't be...

Anger feeds into his expanding body, giving itself more space to spread like a wildfire, or perhaps more like a wave of churning acid that washes through his veins and takes the place of his blood.

It must... Because his body feels as if it's corroding.

“What the HELL is that?!”

Falkner's shriek adequately echoes your own inner monologue.

And you thought Bowser was terrifying before.

The tyrant must be absolutely livid with you for managing to escape from your room. If only you hadn't run into Sir Falkner on the docks. You went looking for a rescue party, but the man who did come to 'rescue' you might be even worse than King Bowser. At least Bowser, for all his uninvited clinginess, had never raised a hand against you.

Now though, locked in his blood-red stare, you start to wonder if you've pushed your luck just a step too far.

Pounding footsteps take off behind you, slapping against the cobblestone as Falkner simply turns tail and runs, leaving you frozen in place with your limbs as rigid as petrified wood, like your body knows instinctively that to turn your back and run from something with teeth that sharp is a very bad idea.

Inevitably, Bowser's head shoots up almost the moment Falkner starts to flee, and you're helpless but to watch on in horror as a gigantic paw surges over your head and snatches your would-be suitor right off the ground, hoisting the man up into the air.

Falker's resulting scream chills you down to the marrow in your bones, so wracked with terror and urgency that it sets your teeth on edge.

The oversized Koopa draws the thrashing human up to his maw and peels back his thick, rubbery lips, giving Falkner an uninterrupted view of his fate.

A constant growl spills between gleaming fangs, each one about the length of your own forearm, and the sound itself is loud enough that it could be mistaken for an unending grumble of far-off thunder, easily drowning out the man's screams.

It's gruesome to see. Your imagination runs wild with awful possibilities that you pray don't come to pass. Trembling in your boots, you lower your gaze to stare unblinkingly at the ground instead whilst short, sharp breaths fall out of your lungs, coming fast enough to leave you feeling light-headed.

Slowly, carefully, you take a single step back.

This might be your only chance to escape.

But then, like a damning acknowledgement of your cowardice, Falkner screams your name.

“Y/N!” he screeches, his back arched against the pain of being crushed in Bowser's grip, “HELP ME! PLEASE!”

'...You don't have to help him,' logic whispers into your ear, set on self-preservation, 'Nobody but his mother would miss him. He's a bad person, and you're not a hero.'

No. You're not a hero. And it certainly wouldn't be heroic to save a man like Falkner, who does more harm than good most days.

Bowser's immense jaws part in reaction to the human's screams, and his growl explodes into a deafening roar that blasts the man's hair back and forces him to pinch his eyes firmly shut.

Similarly, you raise your hands and slap them over your ears, teeth grit until the sound starts to fade. You can only imagine what the volume had done to Falkner's eardrums.

Even through the cushioning of your palms, you still hear him crying out once more, “DO SOMETHING!”

… Your head twists slowly towards a little wooden boat that bobs invitingly on the nearby docks. You're strong enough to work the oars, you could very easily jump into it, raise the little, white sail and let the wind carry you far out to sea, away from this place.

Away from Bowser.

This could be your only shot of escaping imprisonment and going home.

“I beg of you!”

… You could...

“Y/N!”

… Oh, damn it all.

Your eyes snap back up to Falkner and you immediately start to feel the burning of your cheek, as if to remind you of what he did.

But already, your scruples are disintegrating. A direct cry for help is a tough thing to ignore, after all.

On shaking knees, you reclaim the step you'd made in retreat and instead move towards Bowser, tipping your head back and peeling your tongue from the roof of your bone-dry mouth. “B-!” You falter on the first syllable and have to swallow roughly before trying again. “Bowser!”

Almost as soon as it had begun, the thunderous roar falls silent, echoing off in the distance until it's lost over the crashing waves.

Falkner continues to gasp and whimper inside the colossal fist, but those haunting, blood-red eyes turn gradually in your direction, pinning you once again in their subtle glow.

Your legs threaten to buckle as you realise he's now focusing solely on you.

You've no idea if he can be reasoned with in this state, but you know you can't do much else but try. “Release him, Bowser!” you yelp without an ounce of any real authority, “I'm the one who ran from you! Not him! Put him down!”

The docks are still and disarmingly placid for a time, disturbed only by the sounds of Falkner struggling to free himself, and the breaths that enter and leave a set of gargantuan lungs.

The hulking Koopa continues to glower down at you, his nostrils flared wide to reveal a red-hot glow from within, like a burning core.

Just as you begin to fear that your plea will go unheeded, Bowser hisses through his fangs, and then, without much ceremony, he simply opens his fist and Falkner goes tumbling out of it, landing awkwardly on his ankle and eliciting a yelp of pain. Still, he wastes no time in whirling over onto his backside and kicking madly to push himself out from under the behemoth's shadow.

You follow his retreat from the corner of an eye, but you don't break Bowser's stare.

You daren't, even as he takes a lumbering step in your direction. The ground underneath your shudders with the impact, as though the island itself is afraid of his wrath.

Another step covers much of the distance between you, and the realisation that he's coming your way snaps you out of your trance. You've given Falkner a chance to escape. Now, you'll be taking yours.

Skirts flying, you whip yourself about and take off in a dead sprint. Behind you, the air quivers as Bowser releases an urgent chuff, the heat from his breath washing disconcertingly over the back of your neck and spurring you to kick up your heels.

However, you barely make it ten paces before a colossal palm suddenly descends from the sky and crashes into the ground just ahead of you. You let out a yelp and hit the brakes, but you've already come too close to his hand, and so, like a venus fly trap closes around a hapless insect, Bowser's fingers spring to action, sweeping you up off your feet and pinning you against the soft, warm leather of his palm.

“No, no, no!” you bleat, scrabbling desperately at thick scales as the ground falls away below you and you find yourself lifted up to Bowser's big, yellow muzzle.

All you can do is wait for the crunch. For the pain. To hear your bones grind together when he eventually clenches his fist.

You're ashamed to cry in front of him, but you're too afraid to stop. Nausea churns your stomach and you screw up your face in anticipation, eyes clamped tightly closed.

The agony of waiting is almost too much for you to bear.

You're too wrapped up in your fear to notice that Bowser has yet to even slightly tighten his grasp. If anything, his hold is shockingly gentle. The pad of an immense thumb is pressed against your belly, exerting just enough pressure to keep you safely tucked in the hollow of his palm.

Several, unbearable seconds tick by whilst you quiver and breathe as though you've just run a mile.

You nearly lose your composure, biting down on your tongue to stop yourself from demanding that he just get your punishment over with.

And then, you feel it.

A gentle pressure, so light that you'd think a butterfly must have landed on your neck, but when your eyes burst open and you catch sight of a monolithic finger all but filling your field of view, you realise what a fool you were to close your eyes at all.

Bowser, it seems, has raised his unoccupied hand towards you, and the very tip of a single claw has come to rest in the hollow of your throat. You can feel it's ghosting presence as you swallow thickly and your larynx presses a little more solidly against it for all of a second.

You're too stunned to make a move.

With a gentleness that doesn't at all befit his size, Bowser slowly lifts his claw, and in doing so, your head is pushed up, then turned slightly to one side, exposing your cheek.

The cheek that had been viciously struck.

Why is he...?

Pinned under the weight of his scrutiny, you fall utterly motionless, your mouth stuck open as if you're emitting a silent scream.

A lonely tear escapes the confines of your lashes and trickles down to your chin when it dangles precariously for a before it falls, plopping down onto Bowser's fingertip.

The behemoth's muzzle shifts close, and those dark and dangerous eyes narrow to thin slits as he inspects your cheek. You'd almost entirely forgotten about the throbbing ache lancing across your face, and even now, adrenaline is doing wonders at keeping most of the discomfort at bay.

All of a sudden, Bowser's pupils shrink and a thrum of aggression starts up in his chest like the engine of some ancient and powerful machine. Drawing his head away from you, he twists it over his bulging shoulder and aims a vicious snarl in the direction that Falkner had fled.

You can't help but flinch when his fingers twitch around you, but he must have noticed the movement, because not a second later, the growl is cut off and he swings his nose around to peer down at you again, his slitted pupils expanding like ink in water once they land on you.

Your pulse is jackhammering against your skin. Nothing about this is adding up. He seems more agitated about Falkner than about you. But... you're the escaped prisoner...

You don't have much time to ponder over his strange behaviour though. Just as carefully as it had appeared, the Koopa's forefinger slides gradually from beneath your chin and you can finally gulp down a greedy breath of air, realising belatedly that you'd stopped breathing the moment he touched you.

All around you, the behemoth starts to move, pulling you close and tucking you against his chest as he takes step after impossibly lengthy step, turning his immense bulk about to head back across the island to your gloomy, familiar prison.

--------------

You used to wonder if it was simply Bowser's ostentatious taste in décor that made him choose such grand, wide doorways to separate the rooms of his castle. Now however, as the gargantuan Koopa squeezes himself through the entrance to your given chambers, his shell scraping noisily against the wooden doorframes, you realise the design might lend more to practicality than aesthetic, especially if this... transformation happens on a regular basis around here.

God, you hope not...

You've remained stiff as a board in Bowser's unwavering grasp all the way back, fearful of provoking a violent reaction out of him like you had when you tried to struggle out of Falkner's grip.

Shoulders sagging as he releases a massive sigh, the Koopa trundles to a stop at the foot of your bed and at long, long last, he peels you away from his chest. Your ears ring after so much time spent having to listen to a mighty heart thudding rhythmically right next to your head.

Again, with a care that you certainly never would have expected him to possess, Bowser cups you in his palms and lowers you onto the plush sheets, sliding his hands out from underneath you as if he's placing down a fragile, porcelain doll.

As soon as you're out of his grasp, he deflates, heaving a billowing breath and all but dropping onto all fours in front of you. Alarmed, you scramble backwards until your spine hits the bed's headboard, blurting out a yelp when Bowser's chin drops down to thwack on the sheets in front of you. The weight of his skull alone causes the bed to buckle and groan in protest, but to your astonishment, it somehow manages to support him as he gets himself settled, peering down the length of his snout and ensnaring you in that ruby-red gaze once more.

Your fingers flex into the sheets around you, bunching them up and wrinkling the fine cotton.

'Now what's he doing?'

His eyes are glued to your cheek again, his intense stare broken by the occasional, languid blink.

You're not expecting it when he suddenly moves.

He only extends his neck a little to bring his head closer to you, but he's so massive, the motion it far more jarring from your perspective. With a shriek, you slam your eyes shut and instinctively throw up your hands, pressing them hard against the soft muzzle, as if they alone are enough to keep him from advancing on you any further. To your immense shock however, the moment your fingers meet the warm surface of his nose, Bowser falls still.

You risk prying open an eyelid to peep up at him.

Judging by the impossibly wide smile that now stretches across his face, he's apparently delighted by this new development.

This is the first time you've touched his face.

Your palm is almost lost to a vast expanse of yellow skin, sitting right on the ridge of his nose between his flaring nostrils.

The Koopa's own gaze is heavy-lidded, each pupil angled to keep you within his sights whilst a pleased hum travels through his throat and causes the bed to quake underneath you.

His fangs remain safely tucked behind his lips, and as the seconds tick by without your hand getting snapped off, the tension in your fingers gradually begins to dissipate.

With your heartbeat receding as well, you allow yourself to lightly stroke just the tips of your fingers down his snout until they pause on the cusp of his upper lip, drawing a reverent shudder from the almighty juggernaut.

Pressing your teeth together, you inhale slowly through your nose, and murmur, “...Bowser?”

It's as if you've just broken him from some kind of trance.

The King's face suddenly twists up and he emits a throaty groan, like he's in pain.

Quick as a flash, you tear your hand from his muzzle and press yourself back as far away as you can when he peels his chin from the bed and brings both of his gargantuan paws up to clutch at his head, staggering to his feet.

“Bowser!” you cry again, this time in alarm, “What's happening!?”

A disconcerting notion occurs to you - that he could be on the verge of going bezerk - and you hurriedly throw back the covers with a view to scramble off the bed and make a break for the doors. But as soon as you move, the Koopa's eyes spring open again and zero in on you, trapping you in a stare so full of frantic desperation that you stop at once, though more from confusion than fear.

And so, you're left to do nothing but watch as the jagged behemoth undergoes another, painful transformation.

The heavy shell on his back grows smaller, losing the serrated quality of its spikes. His tail shortens, his jutting fangs soften around their edges. The sweeping horns on his head recede back inside his rapidly shrinking skull until only their tips remain poking out from between his mess of a mane.

You almost choke on a gushing sigh of relief when at last, the King is back to his regular, brutish self, knelt on the ground at the foot of your bed - though it strikes you quite abruptly that you shouldn't be feeling reassured by Bowser's presence, no matter which form he takes.

Despite your misgivings, you still find yourself croaking out, “A-are you okay?”

Arduously, he braces a palm on the end of the bed and uses it to push himself up onto his feet again, eventually dragging his eyes over to you. He gives you a brief, searching glance, focusing for an uncomfortable minute on your face, then, without a word, the Koopa spins around and staggers purposefully towards the adjoining bathroom, disappearing through the door.

Plagued by uncertainty, you allow your fists to tentatively unclench around the bedsheets, lowering them into your lap as the squeak of a tap filters out from beyond the ensuite door, followed by the unmistakable rush of running water.

Another squeak... and a few moments later, the Koopa comes stomping back into the room, this time with a wet flannel clutched inside his meaty paw.

“You should've let me pulverise 'im,” he grumbles, stalking around the bed until he comes to the side you're sitting on.

Gobsmacked, you let your mouth fall open, close it, then open it once more to ask, “I... I beg your pardon?”

“That GUY!” he snaps, “You shouldn't'a stopped me. He deserved the worst!”

You blink stupidly, lifting your eyebrows in tandem until they sit high on your forehead. “I'm sorry.. Are we... not going to talk about what just happened to you!?”

“What's there to talk about?” he grunts, flicking his tail up onto the bed before sinking his hefty backside down after it, fidgeting with the sodden flannel between his claws, “You got hurt. I got mad.”

“You got mad!?” Scoffing at the absurd understatement, you continue, “Bowser - you turned into a gigantic, terrifying monster who looked like he was three seconds away from chewing me up and spitting me back out! All because somebody slapped me!?”

You expect an uproarious retort, which would definitely be in keeping with your usual repartee with him, so it comes as a shock when Bowser glares heatedly at you for a few moments, then merely turns his nose away from you, hiding his expression.

It's... notably uncharacteristic of the hot-tempered Koopa. So much so that it prompts you to tilt your head and call, “Bowser?”

You can't see his face beyond the shell that covers his back, but motion on the covers draws your gaze down to see his tail. Slowly, the appendage curls inwards, tucking itself up against his thigh. Dejected.

“You didn't deserve what he did...”

You look up at Bowser again, blinking owlishly to find his arm reaching back towards you, though the King keeps his face stubbornly pointed in the opposite direction. The little, white flannel is draped across his proffered palm.

Keeping a dubious eye on the Koopa, you hesitantly stretch your hand out to his, pinching the fabric between your thumb and forefinger and pausing for a second to marvel over how cold it is. Drawing it into your grasp, you waste no time in bringing it up to your face and gently pressing the cool material against your cheek, unable to keep back the tiny smile that grows on your face with that slight modicum of relief.

You recognise his gesture is meant to be a peace offering, and you are grateful for the flannel... But you're also still bitter.

“So,” you hum pensively, eyeing his robust arm as it drops down to rest on the bed beside him, “I didn't deserve that. But I do deserve to be locked up and held prisoner in your castle?”

“I keep you safe.” His head twitches in your direction with a cursory show of teeth that are hardly very frightening anymore, not now that you've seen what they can become, “I keep you fed and warm and happy. I'd never hurt you.”

“No. You keep me fed and warm, and that's it,” you tell him sharply, “I don't feel safe here. And I am far from happy.”

You're more than aware that you're antagonising him, but you think you're damn well within your rights to do so. It isn't enough that he keeps you locked up in this castle and forbids you your freedom, but now he expects you to act as if you're happy about it too?

Another, disgruntled noise leaves him as he lurches off the bed, landing on his feet with a thud.

"Where are you going?" you demand.

"I'm-!" Bowser heaves a sigh, running a clawed hand through his thick, fiery mane. “I'm goin' to get you a proper ice-pack...” Trailing off, the King tromps heavily across your room, making his agitation known with every, deliberate step until he reaches the door.

Your teeth tug at a piece of loose skin on your lower lip. “... Bowser.”

He pauses, his hulking frame suddenly looking so small and vulnerable in the gargantuan doorway, with one of his hands sitting poised upon the handle.

Even from the bed, you can see the flash of his crimson iris swivelling in your direction.

You try to regard him passively, but the ice in your gaze is starting to melt fraction by fraction, and you don't know whether he can see it or not. “... Thanks,” you call gently anyway, lifting your shoulder into a shrug, “For... you know, for scaring Falkner off.”

You watch his eyelid widen, as if he's surprised to hear a word of thanks, from you of all people.

There's even the minutest quiver in his lip as it tries to tug itself up into the ghost of a smile. But then, he gives his head a rough shake, and the smile is gone.

“Just protectin' what's mine,” he rumbles, pushing the door open and slipping through the gap. The door closes again a second later, and your ears catch the sound of a heavy key sliding into the lock and turning, sending the tumblers clunking home.

… What's his...

Right.

A hollow space expands between your ribs, the familiar hole that disappointment often leaves behind.

Drawing your knees up against your chest, you wrap an arm around yourself for comfort, keeping the flannel pressed to your cheek as you wait for him to return with that ice pack.

#mario #super mario bros movie #bowser #bowser x reader #physical abuse #giga bowser #g/t #giant bowser #protective bowser #possessive bowser #the physical abuse isn't done by Bowser btw #hurt/comfort #pining #unrequited crush

1K notes · View notes

pearlywritings · 2 years

Text

They got it from you

synopsis: envious nobles are at it again, ruining your day with their venomous remarks and making you doubt certain things. What a relief that your family is always ready to make it feel better.

pairing: Diluc x fem!reader, feat your sons

tw: hurt/comfort, bullying, established relationship, fluff, tiny mention of pregnancy

word count: 6.9k+ words

author’s note: @sleep-deprivedracoon you can call me a liar. I know I said I was not going to continue A child of our own anyhow, but here I am, making a whole family AU (yes, here is a separate masterlist for it)

Biggest thanks to @lunargrapejuice who shared my brainrot and gave me an inspiration to write it 💛

Life couldn’t be better. Honestly! You have everything and then some more that fills your every moment with happiness - you have an amazing husband, who is your lover, your support, your dear friend and the person who looks at you like you hold the whole universe in your hands (and you do, whenever you cradle Diluc’s face in your palms). You have two amazing sons - four-year-old twins, sweet and active, polite and respectful, happy and playful, though sometimes borderline mischievous - but they are kids! That is to be expected. You found home in the manor of the winery, where every single member of staff came to love you dearly, always smiling and sounding fondly whenever ‘My Lady’ or ‘Madame’ leaves their lips both in your presence and absence. You have great friends - your close circle of old ones and the ones you befriended after stepping into your now-husband’s circle, the best possible addition being his brother’s family. His wife and daughter adore you and the feeling is wholeheartedly mutual. People of Mondstadt always loved you, but now they love you even more and are always excited to see the whole Ragnvindr family of four members in the city.

Sadly, not all people.

Sure, there is nothing wrong in someone not liking you and not approaching you as a couple of others would. After all, it’s impossible to be loved by everyone, there is no such person in the whole Teyvat. It’s a completely different thing when someone openly despises you.

While Mondstadt is a city of freedom and all people are declared to be equal, there are descendants from the noble families that centuries ago used to be glorified, respected and ruling. Of course, many do not pay attention to it, but there are some that continue exalting the pureness of their blood and going around puffing their chests like some arrogant roosters. To them the likes like you are a thorn in the side. It’s their daughters, cousins, younger sisters, or whoever else, who were deserving of marrying the young master of the Rangvindr bloodline, not… not you!

They blamed late Master Crepus for not being sagacious to establish an arranged marriage contract with any of these families before dying, that way you would’ve never been given the chance to even think of being in his eyesight!

But you not only dared to be there, you became the center of it. They don’t know how could they miss years you two spent dating, but the next moment they knew - you two were happily married. And that’s after all of their attempts to set him up with one of their young female members of the family!

They detest you, they hate your guts, froth at the mouth every single time there is at least the tiniest hint of your shared happiness and affection. Venom fills their words, but they do not dare to utter them in Diluc’s presence of course not. They target you when you are alone.

They already caused you much distress five years ago, when all your mind could do was worrying about the topic of kids. Back then Diluc did make it clear - if anyone has balls to verbally attack his wife, they are welcome to visit the Angel’s Share, where he’ll have a very nice chat with them.

Insults stopped and you could finally breathe freely, concentrating on carrying your child (at that time you had no idea it was going to be two) and then raising up the twins - beautiful brilliant redheads, that quickly became the talk of the town. People adore them, smile and greet them whenever both parents or one of you brings them to the city, give them free treats, rope you or Diluc in any kind of conversation, and admire your pretty babies. There were more times than you can count when Kaeya appeared unexpectedly and stole (saved) you from the never-ending chitchats.

You think that at last, everything is magnificent - Diluc heeds you and really makes attempts to dedicate time to not only you and children but himself too, he takes his walls down even more, now struggling less when discussing with you something that keeps him restless; Rufus and Lucas - your sons - are healthy and content, being nothing but joy to both you and your husband, and everything else is pretty much the same, and that’s really enough for you.

Until a couple of months ago nobles started to express their hatred again.

At first it was very very subtle, and if it was a bystander, they would’ve never guessed the real meaning behind small comments. But very soon it became very clear, but still pretty much bearable.

“Look, it’s this woman again.”

“Ah, yes, her. A greedy gold digger.”

“I don’t understand what our Master Diluc found in her. My cousin is so much prettier!”

“I don’t know about your cousin, but my sweet daughter Lily would’ve looked so much better at his side.”

“Yes, dear, you are right, our daughter would’ve made a much better match for Mr Ragnvindr. If only he gave her a chance at that teaparty…”

And something alike. Statements like this didn’t bother you at all. You know Diluc knows you love him dearly and fondly and care little to how loaded he is (you do handle his budget sometimes, but even then you do not have any inappropriate thoughts, no matter how many times your boyfriend and then husband tried to spoil you). You also know Diluc loves you and wouldn’t dream of marrying anyone else - he makes it very clear with words and more often - actions. And you also know they are just envious of your happiness and blame you for, how do they say “stealing what could never belong to you from them”. You do not treat your husband as an object, maybe that’s why he never looked at your families, you, imbeciles.

However they are determined in their attempts to get under your skin and they resume to the topic that worked before - your children. They used to talk you down for being a bad wife for not giving Master Diluc heirs sooner, such a remarkable and great bloodline must’ve been restored in their opinion. Well, you do have children now, so it won’t work twice.

Now, there are offhandedly thrown comments about how much young Ragnvindrs resemble their father. Yes, yes, gorgeous thick red little manes, just like their father’s, beautiful ruby eyes - surely inherited from their father, their delicate noses and overall face features - one look and you could easily guess their father in them!

Too bad they look nothing like their mother.

Suddenly, to them you even lost your identity as a person. Now you're just a ’Master Diluc’s kids’ mother’. Not your name, not even your family name. Just a function, making it sound like it’s the only thing you can do, contribute to this marriage.

Today was the final straw to your composure. Someone - possibly one of the minions - was brave (and foolish, if you ask me) enough to state you are not even their mother. Your pregnant stomach? Pff, totally fake, just a pillow under your dress. They know the woman - the real mother of Master Diluc’s children - who the owner of Dawn Winery asked to bear his offspring because his wife was just a failure.

You didn’t acknowledge them - the whole group that gathered around the speaker and was snickering and sending dirty glances your way. You, calmly and gracefully, continued your path, smiling and joyfully chatting with vendors on the street, as if those obvious lies weren’t gnawing on your insides and infiltrating your thoughts.

Oh, but it did hurt.

And it hurts still, when you hop off the wagon - one of the winery workers was ready to head back and happily offered a ride home as you were exiting the city gates. Your heart is so heavy and eyes strain from unshed tears - you really didn’t want to worry the sweet elder man, who was so kind to his Lady, and it gets more and more difficult to keep yourself together as you approach the front doors of the manor. Workers and maids greet and wave at you and you try really hard to wave back and give each and every one at least a couple of phrases to have a small talk and show how much you care - because you truly do.

At last, the doors are closed behind you and your back is pressed against them, a shaky exhale leaving your dried mouth. That was surely an exhausting trip - while the conversation with the talkative employee and observing such familiar landscapes served as a distraction, all kinds of thoughts never stopped swirling inside your mind. With eyes closed your brain starts creating images of their twisted expressions and nasty laughter, mocking you for something that is obvious nonsense. Ah, people really can be cruel, but you will be fine. You need just a moment to dispose of these emotions and worries.

Tapping of small feet makes you aware you are not yet in private to let yourself go and you make an effort to push through it for a little bit more, opening your eyes and lovingly staring at two boys running down the stairs, closely followed by your head maid.

“Mama! Mama!” you crouch down and catch them in an embrace, letting out a small grunt when their bodies bump into you at full speed. Two pairs of arms quickly wrap around your neck and each cheek is loudly smooched. A smile appears on your lips and for a moment you forget about your pain and a reason for your sadness, giving each boy a kiss on their noses, to which they erupt in giggles.

“Hello, my little fireflies. How have you been?”

“Good!”

“But we missed you and papa!”

“Oh, but Addie read us a story!”

You glance at Adelinde and the woman only smiles, watching the sight in front of her with a soft emerald gaze.

“Did she? Was it interesting?”

“Yes!”

“Not really…”

You laugh at the pouty expression of the younger twin, guessing it was the older who chose the story this time.

“I am sure the next one will be to your liking, my dear. Right, Adelinde?”

But before she can answer you, the boys unwrap their arms around your neck and instead grab your hands - Rufus has both of his little palms wrapped around your wrist, while Lucas holds just onto your fingers with one hand, the other pointing to the back exit.

“Mom, we don’t wanna read! Come and play with us!”

“Pleaaaaase!”

Going…outside?

As much as you want to give in and let them lead you out to have fun, you understand the desperate need to be alone for some time. Even though everything doesn’t come back crushing onto you all at once, you know it can and desire to prevent such escalation wins.

Your face must’ve fallen, because the twins definitely notice.

“Mama..? Is something wrong..?”

“Do you not… want to play with us?”

You can see that the other woman in the hall is ready to rush and help you, but you can handle it, they are your children, no matter how bitter it sounds in your wounded thoughts right now, and you are their mother, you are the one to bring them comfort.

“Oh, no, no, no, babies. Mama wants to play with you. But,” you stand up from your crouched position carefully, not to rip your hands out of their hold accidentally, “I am very tired right now… I will be very happy to play with you later, after dinner… If my boys don’t mind,” just as carefully you slide your wrist and fingers free and reach to pat the tops of their fluffy heads. Your sons exchange quick glances. You swear, they have some invisible connection between them, as if they can communicate via reading each other’s minds, and it makes you smile a little. The agreement is reached when they look back at you and, though a little bit pouty, nod.

“Of course, mama. We understand, and we will wait for after dinner!”

You can’t help yourself and not poke their round cheeks, effortlessly making them let out the air held there. Boys giggle again, rubbing at the poked spots and jumping a step back to avoid more teasing to come. Straightening up, you give them a small smile.

“Thank you, Rufus, thank you, Lucas. Mama really appreciates it and loves you.”

“We love you too, mama!” The declaration is exclaimed in unison and that’s what plucks the strings of your heart and makes you even more emotional. You make an unspoken vow to yourself, you’ll shower these redheads in so much affection when you feel better.

Twins’ crimson eyes follow your figure slowly walking up the stairs and all the way to the bedroom where you hide behind a heavy door. Something is not right, they can sense it. You rarely call them by their full names, unless they are in trouble, or you speak to someone else about them. The lack of ‘Ru’ and ‘Lu’ spoken in your sweet voice makes them question your behavior. Besides, you looked very gloomy - they are used to seeing something similar on their dad’s face, but not on yours.

So their heads whip into Adelinde’s direction and a second later they are already standing in front of her, craning their necks to look up.

“Addie, is mama sad?”

“Why is she sad?”

“Something happened?”

“Can we help?”

“Will papa be sad too?”

“Yes, papa is always sad, if mama is sad… It’s bad if they are sad!”

“Yes, it’s bad! We wanna help!”

The head maid bends down to tuck some stray locks behind their ears and to gently cup their cheeks, which always effectively makes them fall silent. The woman finds it extremely sweet how willing to make it better these two angels are. But, she is afraid, there is nothing they can do at the moment. Their Lady is known to lighten up everyone else’s mood with her presence - cheerful and kind, the stormy clouds hang above her head very rarely, and there is always a very specific and unpleasant reason behind it. There ought to be some kind of an issue, hard to resolve and that hurt you a good amount, if the pained look in your eyes and your rueful steps were any indicator.

“Listen, boys,” she starts in a smooth voice, making sure every word of hers reaches them and sinks in, “your mother is really tired. Sometimes being tired can cause you feeling upset - low energy and overworking do feel bad. Right now she needs to rest, to regain her strength back, so she can play and spend more time with you, and believe me, she doesn't want anything as much as this. As for your father… I am sure he will be fine. If he doesn’t join us soon I will go and talk to your mother, okay?”

“And…you will tell us everything?” Rufus looks at her hopefully and she gently smiles, caressing his cheek with her thumb.

“Of course. You two will be the first ones to know. And I will tell you right away if your mother asks for you to come pay her company.”

Boys know that Addie never lies, so for now, they are satisfied with her answer, even though they really really want to run right to their parents’ bedroom, crawl onto the bed and cuddle with you. Your warm cuddles always helped them feel better, surely it can work the other way around, right?

But their train of thoughts is interrupted by Adelinde who takes their hands and straightens up.

“So, young masters, what would you like to do meanwhile?” the twins exchange glances again, and then Rufus looks back at her.

“I want another story!”

“But I choose!” the younger tugs the woman’s hand and his brother huffs. Mom and dad say to always share though, and, besides, Lucas’s choices are to his liking sometimes.

“Alright, you choose,” he says instead and his brother beams with happiness. The head maid only chuckles and takes them back to their room, so Lucas could pick another book from the shelf and she - read it to them.

Almost half of an hour passes when Diluc finally opens the door of his study and takes a look outside. The second floor is empty and, upon walking to the varnished wooden railing and glancing down, he notices just a couple of maids dusting around the first floor. How strange, he thinks, combing his fingers through fiery bangs. He can swear he saw you out of the window quite some time ago. Usually, if he’s home and busy you always stop by to greet him and either have a small conversation if he has some time, or just give each other a kiss if he can’t let his attention stray too far from calculations and planning.

Today, however, you didn’t. The twins could be at fault - they have an ability to easily drag any of you into games and other activities, and it is borderline impossible to resist them. Adelinde always teases him, saying that as a child it was the same and his father had a very hard time telling his son ‘no’, but Diluc wholeheartedly believes that these charms they got from you.

Floorboards make no sound as he is making his way to the twins’ room. Twisting the knob the man can indistinctly hear Adelinde’s voice, muffled by the wood, soon becoming clear as the door opens. He sees the maid sitting on a chair, pulled in front of one of the beds, and holding a fairytale book, which she lowers, turning her head in his direction. The boys - Lucas lying on his stomach and swinging legs and Rufus, sitting closely and hugging his knee - immediately perk up when they hear the door open and, while expecting to see their mother, still feel very excited to see the other parent.

“Papa!” the door clicks shut behind him and Diluc moves further into the room. He greets Adelinde and immediately motions for her to not stand up - she is a servant, but a close friend, he doesn’t need any physical display to know she is loyal and respects him.

“Hello, my little flames,” he sits on the edge of the bed and instantly Rufus climbs in his lap, soon followed by his brother. Boys hug him and kiss his cheeks, letting their weight rest in their father’s strong muscular arms - two small bodies are like two feathers for the man who’s overcome years of training and hardships.

Adelinde closes the book and fondly observes the scene in front of her. It brings distant memories of many years ago, when she was just a young maid, who had just recently started working for the Ragnvindr family. Crepus was a good man and he nurtured and cherished his son and then two. He too used to hold a boy in each arm and carry them around like that when they were still young. Those were such good times and she is so glad they are back so many years after. And all thanks to you.

"Papa?" The voice of the younger twin brings Adelinde back from her thoughts. Her young masters finished giving their dad an overview of their day and now are snuggling to his body.

"Yes, Lu?" The man hums, closely observing both boys. Something isn't right. All of a sudden they both became quiet and something seems to be concerning them.

"Mama is sad," Lucas takes a hold of a thick lock of his father's hair and starts braiding it - or at least imitating something similar, twisting the smaller parts of the strand into something very poorly resembling a proper braid.

"Mama is what?" Though he is asking his son, the eyes are directed to Adelinde, who only shrugs her shoulders in unawareness.

"Mama is sad," eventually repeats Rufus, staring at the ruby brooch on Diluc's cravat, which plays in the light magically. "She came home, said she'll play with us after dinner, and went to your room. But she looked like you when you return home sometimes."

To Diluc that was similar to 'when he returns home looking distraught after a failed mission or nuisance that was ruining his whole day'. This is not good.

"Are you sad too?" Lucas is quick to ask, glancing at his face, abandoning attempts to make dad's hair pretty. A small smile appears on the man's usually neutral face and he shakes his head.

"I am not sad, baby. Do not worry, I promise I'll make mama feel better."

"Can we help?" Again said in unison and from the corner of his eye he sees Adelinde trying to hide her wide grin. He understands her though, his kids are adorable and very compassionate. And this they learned from you.

"Not now, loves. I need to talk to her first, and then we'll do it together. She will be really happy to see you, but a little bit later, I promise.”

“But we want to do something!” Rufus crosses his small arms and Lucas is quick to mirror his brother, nodding his head, making the strands of his bangs bounce.

“Yes! Mama always helps us, we wanna help her too!”

Looking at their pouty but determined faces Diluc feels disarmed - there is no length in this world he is not willing to go for his children, but at the same time he understands that your situation must be delicate and should be handled accordingly.

“If I may, I have a suggestion,” all three glance at Adelinde and she puts the book aside. “Lady promised to play with you outside after dinner, right?” the boys nod. “Then why don’t we organize a picnic! It will be both dinner and the funtime and you get to spend it outdoors. I can cook and you can help me. I am sure it’ll cheer your mother up!”

Diluc sighs in relief. Archons, his father was the smartest person to put this amazing woman in a position she’s been holding for two or so decades now. Not to mention, she raised him and Kaeya in a way, so she is irreplaceable in handling two boys at the same time when first-time parents still struggle.

Boys seem to really like the idea, uncrossing their arms and grabbing onto their dad’s shoulders to climb off of him.

“We are gonna help!”

Adelinde stands up and puts the chair in its original place. Diluc remains sitting for a moment, catching Lucas and settling him back down with the boy's back facing him.

“Daaaad!”

“Wait a little bit, Lu, your ponytail is loose,” Lucas doesn’t have any other choice but to watch Rufus show him his tongue and shake his own little mane of flaming hair proudly - the older twin prefers to wear them down. His glee is short-lived though, as Adelinde bends down and starts combing through his wild locks as well.

“We don’t need any hair in food, so let’s tie a ponytail too.”

“But Aaaaddie!”

“No ‘but’s, right, Master?”

Diluc hums, tying black ribbon in Lucas’s hair. Now, as the two stand side by side, it would’ve been hard to tell who is who, if they wore similar clothes. Though, even with different clothes and different hairstyles, they are still constantly confused, which the twins are always happy to use in their favor.

“Addie, come, come! The picnic!”

“Alright, alright, let’s go. We’ll see you soon, Master.”

And by ‘you’ she means both the husband and the wife.

Three careful but steady knocks against the heavy wood of the only barrier that separates him and his own personal paradise of your shared bedroom, the only obstacle that is keeping him away from you.

"My love? Can I come in?"

He strains his ears to hear any sound from the inside - shuffling of blankets, thudding of feet against the floor, rattling of curtain clamps as the thick fabric is moved to reveal the window - anything that would tell him of your state. But there is no such sound. The only thing Diluc hears is your rasped 'come in!' and then you clearing your throat.

Your husband doesn't need to be told twice, and a moment later he pushes the door closed behind him. Ruby eyes take in the room to estimate the severity of your condition. He notices the blankets in a heap on the bed and pillows rearranged - this must've been your improvised shelter for releasing your emotions, abandoned when the purpose was served. He notices the clothes you left in this morning on a chair, - you, most likely, didn't have much energy to hang it in the drawer after changing, and he doesn't blame you for it. Then his focus is on the window, something that has been teasing his peripheral vision. It is not obscured by the drapes and is, in fact, opened ajar, filling the bedroom with warm soft light, enough to not lit the candles just yet. And then, basking in this sunlight, your figure is seated on the armchair, hair just slightly swaying in a small breeze, creating an ethereal image together with the halo of sun rays

You watch as the love of your life loosens his cravat a little and takes a deep breath, before finding his way in front of you. He towers above you, but you do not feel intimidated, looking at him from your sitting position and offering him a meek smile.

“I am sorry I didn’t come to greet you as always… Didn’t want to worry you much, but it seems I did in the end,” a small chuckle and a soft hum when his hand gently cups your cheek, thumb caressing the skin where dried tear streaks were easy to make out in the light.

“Please, don’t apologize,” his voice is deep and soothing and makes your wearied heart flutter. “If you needed a moment for yourself I respect your decision.”

Oh, Celestia must love you. Diluc has his flaws, admittedly (and who doesn’t?), but he makes sure that in your relationship respect and trust are never forgotten, and you greatly appreciate it. Gazing into his eyes, warm as a fireplace on a cold night, fills you with serenity and tranquility, making the photo album in your hands feel less heavy.

Finally Diluc notices it and then a couple more on a windowsill nearby. Seems like you’ve been relishing in some memories and now, when his worries have been a little bit subdued, he is curious.

"Love, stand up for me?"

Nodding, you swiftly lift yourself and take a small step aside, just enough for him to slide into the plush armchair and bring you in his lap. A blissful sigh leaves your chest when you feel the heat of your husband’s body. One arm securely wraps around your waist and you tuck your head under his chin, feeling the other hand resting on your knees right under the book of captured moments of your life.

A comfortable silence settles between you two for a while. You keep turning the pages, eyes traveling over the colorful pictures, and Diluc just holds you, rubbing absent-minded circles on your hip with his thumb and looking in the album over your head.

Diluc gives you a little bit more time and only when you sigh and lower the book he attempts to start a conversation.

“Do you want to talk?” somehow, the question doesn’t fill with dread and the next phrase makes your heart burst with pure joy. “Ru and Lu are worried. They said you looked sad when you arrived and really wanted to make it better.”

“Ah, aren’t our angels the sweetest?” you softly murmur, reaching out to rub at your eye.

“Of course they are. They got that from you.”

From you… But did they really?

After ridding off the pent up emotions with tears, as if guided by some unseen force you took the photo albums out. There are many brilliant pictures that tell your family’s story: starting from the images of your multiple dates, transitioning into dozens from your wedding and then hundreds of your life as spouses and parents. Some were taken by either of you, some - by bystanders, some you got thanks to the winery staff, some were sneaked by Kaeya (those are ones of the most heartfelt, as the man managed to catch Diluc in his softest moments) and some were done by professional photographers. The photos that you needed to see the most were ones of your sons. You spent much more time on those, examining their hair, eyes, facial features and everything else in regard to their appearances, only to come to one simple conclusion - they truly look like carbon copies of their father.

“Luc…” you start with uncertainty, gripping the pages of the newest of the albums. “I wouldn't say I am sad… More like I got overwhelmed and my emotions had better of me. Needed a moment to let it all out not to combust later. I didn’t tell you, because I believed in myself and thought I could withstand it on my own, but the nobles started bothering me again,” you feel his body going stiff and a hand on your knee clench involuntarily. You lift the album and put your palm on top of his, squeezing it. “It wasn’t bad at first, nothing unusual - it was very simple to ignore. But in a couple of months it got worse. Now they openly say nasty things about me. They refer to me as nothing but a 'Master Diluc's kids' mother'! As if I am some kind of a decoration to you, like I am not my own person now! Can you imagine that..?" A deep sigh. "And then they say that I can't even be their mother, because they look nothing like me! I guess,” you gulp, forcing the bubbling emotions back down, “the very notion that someone considers such a possibility offended me and despite my better judgment I couldn’t just disregard it… So yeah,” you show him the pages that are currently open: there are pictures of your boys, one where they chase the crystal flies and the other of them napping on each other on a sofa in the living room. “I just wanted to see if they really do not resemble me at all. I know it’s stupid-”

“No, it isn’t,” you abruptly close your mouth - the firmness of his tone has taken you by surprise.

Diluc didn’t mean to cut you off so harshly, but your words made him feel two things. The first is a total fury - how dare someone to have the guts to speak to or about you like that? Say whatever you’d like about him, but when it comes to you and his kids - it’s a totally different story. The second is a heartbreak - while he doesn’t let pointless words get to him personally and he logically thinks you know he loves you dearly and that Rufus and Lucas are yours, he can see how much those scumbag’s words affected you, and it crushes him to see you weighed down by this.

“None of your concerns is stupid, even though what those…vermins say is an absolute lie,” he brings a hand to your face to gently hold it and smiles when you close your eyes and lean into its warmth. “My flame, our boys are like you too, a lot actually. Maybe not in their looks, but they have so many of your lovely personality qualities that I couldn’t possibly have given them. Look at their wide smiles and ardent gleam in their eyes - they are yours. They definitely share your spirit - which I admire with my whole heart.”

“You really think so..?” you ask quietly, tips of fingers touching the back of his hand, that quickly leaves your cheek and holds onto yours instead.

“Of course, and I know that deep down you believe so too, it just got buried under all of that emotional shambles," Diluc is still not the one to talk a lot, but if it is you, he has so much to say. "Let me remind you that the world doesn’t depend on those idiots’ opinions - you are adored by many others in the community, by our friends and family. Every time our boys look at you, I see the purest love reflecting in their eyes. And I,” he takes a small pause to press a kiss to your knuckles, “I adore you the most. You are the glue that holds all of us together, the Lady of the house, the mother of my children, my loving wife and partner, but most importantly - you are yourself and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Stooop,” you whine, hiding your face in his chest, but not letting go of his hand. “You are making me blush.”

“It suits you,” Diluc chuckles, lifting his other hand to comb through your slightly messy locks. “Red looks really good on you.”

“Pff, the last time you told me so was when you tried to excuse the marks you left on my chest!” you gently bump your forehead into his shoulder and start butting him.

“Still stand by my point,” the redhead presses his cheek to the side of your restless head, returning his arm back around your waist. “But I mean it when I say that without you we are nothing. If you hadn’t entered my life, I wouldn’t be blessed with this family. We smile and laugh and feel so full of love every day only because you are here to love and guide us in ways I don’t feel like I’m capable of.”

“You totally are, the fire of my heart,” he feels your lips on his neck and knows that his own cheeks are being attacked by pink dust.

“Maybe I am, but your contribution is way much more. You know what the boys kept asking after telling me of your sadness?” you lift your head and curiously stare in his gemlike eyes. Diluc is mesmerized for a moment when he sees yours - so clear and honest, with no tear threatening to spill. The smile is back to your pretty lips and your body language is no longer closed off and wounded. You finally look like yourself again, and it fills Diluc’s with joy and pride for you and how strong you actually are.

“They kept asking if they could help you anyhow. They were very eager about it and got a bit moody when I told them they can’t just yet. They love you, dearly.”

“Yes, we do!”

Both of your heads whip to the still closed door and you nearly drop the photo album, which your husband is quick to grab.

“Did you hear that too?” you ask Diluc confused and he nods, putting the book aside.

“Yes, it seems like we have an audience here,” he quietly murmurs to you and then continues in a louder voice, “boys, what did we tell you about eavesdropping?”

“It’s bad!” two voices chime cheerfully and you snort in your fist.

“But affi… effisi… argh, good when work!” adds Rufus and you bet he looks proud. Side-glancing at the groaning redhead, who gently lifts you off his lap and then joins you on his own feet, you ask:

“Why do they know about work?”

“Probably Kaeya. Gonna strangle him later.”

He won’t.

Nevertheless, you are the first to step to the door and open it, revealing the two little troublemakers, who immediately pounce on you, wrapping their arms around your legs.

“Mama, we were so worried…” Lucas presses his face into the fabric of your skirt. Rufus nods but looks up at you with big carmine eyes.

“How are you?”

Such a simple question, but it makes you feel so loved and cherished. Heaving a sigh you reach to comb through their soft locks - the action, which works wonders on any of these three redheads of yours.

You feel Diluc joining your side, wrapping a loose arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your temple, which makes you even more confident.

“I am fine now, rested and ready to spend time with you as promised. Thank you for asking,” you smile, patting the tops of their heads. “Just let me tell the maids to start on dinner.”

“No need, we did it!” the twins grin, unwrapping their arms from around your legs and instead clasping your hands in theirs. You have a feeling of déjà vu - it really reminds you of the scene when you came home.

“What do you mean, sweethearts?”

“You’ll see! Just come with us! Come, come!” They chant and chant, tagging on your hands and you feel how Diluc takes a step forward, attempting to push your body into motion with his own.

“Oh, okay,” you are confused, but you can’t really fight when all three are on the same mission, so you choose to follow them. You walk through the second floor and then down the stairs, but, much to your surprise, pass by the empty dining table and to the front door. You start to doubt their intentions.

“Wait, wait, I am wearing my house dress! And my hair must be such a mess!”

The boys stop right in front of the exit, turning their heads to look at you.

“I think mama is very pretty,” Lucas says.

“She is the most pretty!” Rufus huffs, but reaches to his hair - which you only now notice to be in a ponytail - and takes his ribbon off, offering it to you. “Here, you can use it, if you want.”

“See? They got this from you,” your husband whispers in your ear as you can’t fight back the gleeful smile, rearranging your hair to look decently.

Outside meets you with such a familiar smell of full ripe grapes that mixes into the wind and envelopes you in a summertime embrace. Soon is the harvest season and you'll enjoy watching your family picking up the juicy berries alongside the winery workers.

Your kids lead you and your husband through the vineyard and a little bit to the side, where you, even from a distance, notice Adelinde tending to something on the ground. When you get closer, she straightens up and smiles at you warmly, to which you respond with a soft smile of your own.

“I am happy to see you with us, my Lady,” and you know that she really means it. Diluc is right, there are many people who love and respect you, way more than a small group of envious remnants of the past.

“Mama, look, a picnic!” The boys point at the big blanket and you finally take in the many plates with fresh and mouth-watering dishes, a big jug filled with juice and four glass cups to match. Adelinde also has four pillows ready for you to comfortably sit - the blanket and the grass underneath do little to soften the ground - and hands everyone one so you can settle.

“Boys, this is amazing… Honestly, I am speechless,” you admit, clenching the pillow to your chest and not believing your eyes. The boys in question smile happily, waving their pillows around in excitement and nearly hitting each other with them.

“Addie cooked and we helped!” Rufus eventually puts the part of the decor - which you are sure were taken from the sofa in the hall - on top of his head and pretends to be a pirate in a cocked hat. Oh, the uncle’s influence.

“We also put everything here. On our own!” Lucas clarifies, watching the other twin closely.

You look at Adelinde for explanation.

“Ah, yes, they chose the spot, laid the blanket out and then even tried to carry the plates with food here, but I worried they’d be heavy for them, so they had to leave it to other maids. But they told where and what should be placed.”

Before you can open your mouth and praise your sons, Lucas playfully swings his pillow and knocks his brother’s off of his head, to which the eldest indignantly yelps. He doesn’t stay stunned for long though, grabbing his now imaginable sword and gets ready to attack the giggling younger and start a pillow fight.

But their father clears his throat.

“Rufus, Lucas, behave,” Diluc warns them before they can knock or spill something on their improvised dinner ‘table’. Twins glare at each other, yet hold their respective ‘weapons’ to themselves. “After all, you worked so hard to make mama happy. You don’t want her to be sad again, right?”

This makes both little redheads instantly forget about the battle and their attention is back on you, complete and undivided.

Finally the four of you sit down - Diluc across you and boys immediately by your sides - and begin your outdoor dinner. The oldest Ragnvindr contently sips on his juice and watches his wonderful wife handle their fidgety sons. His keen eye notices everything - matching bright smiles and identically sounding sonorous laughter, the way the boys gaze at you charmed and lean into you when you refill their plates or glasses and your gentle touch and soft voice when you interact with your precious fireflies - so many obvious traits they share with you and anyone who doesn’t see it is either blind or an idiot.

He hopes you see this truth as well, and both your heart and mind make peace with it. After all, there is only one person that can be by his side, be the mother of his children and make this family happy - and the answer is always going to be you.

taglist: @sleep-deprivedracoon

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc x fem!reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #dadluc #genshin impact fluff #pearly family au

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iwaasfairy · 2 years

Text

┌─ “ ! „ AMBUSH TACTICS

tw. non/dubcon, stepcest, restraints/gags, praise, jealousy, threats of exhibitionism, age difference, arranged marriage, voyeurism, some manipulation wordcount. 7.8k

a/n. ♡ commissioned by the amazing @tink2kagome ♡ thank you thank youuuu a million for commissioning me!!! i said it but i just loved writing my guys again so much, it was so fuuunnnnn and i'm so happy you asked for this plot!! i really hope you like the story and that you love it! ♡♡♡ and ty so much lydz for beta-ing!

iwaizumi x fem!reader x oikawa

It’s a rainy day in August when your old house is pulled down. First the roof, slumped and tiles slid off, or broken, littered in your yard as the crane hooks into the back of it and yanks half of it to the side with the cloud of dust and wood splinters. It doesn’t fly very far because of the rain, instead making a gross, dirty looking sludge at the doorstep. Next are the walls, who pull apart rather easily for a house that stood upright for about 50 years before this. Ripped from the foundation and topped atop the daisies you played in when you were smaller. It doesn’t exactly paint a pretty picture.

But when you look up at your father for support, grabbing his arm with a slow, wobbly lip; he smiles down at you. Brushes a hand along your cheek and runs a comforting hand along your hair. The rain drums down hard around you both, as you look to your other side. To the soft face of the woman who put your father back together with gentle hands. You suppose you like her, and the way she seems to be crafted with finer lines than anything else around you. Flowery and spring like, she seems to stand out against the dim, gray sky and the noise of destruction surrounding you. She glances from her own umbrella to watch you— and flutters from under her own cover to come sit crouched down before you, looking from your father to you with a kind smile.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. It’ll be okay.” Your -mom now, you suppose- gently runs her thumbs under your eyes and then finds a tissue to press to your nose, giving you the same soft treatment as your father did. “It’s only going to feel strange for a while, but you’ll love your new room! And you’ll love the new garden.” When she nods, you find yourself nodding back, putting on a brave face as you squeeze your dad’s hand a little tighter. As the old house is ripped from its foundations entirely and leaves behind a crumpled mess of building materials that will be cleared out sooner rather than later, you will yourself to agree.

The loud noises of the machine are silenced a bit by the ruckus the hard droplets are making on the taut fabric above your head; as both your parents do their very best to let your child’s tantrum pass by with a good ending. Then your step-mother stands up to let your father wrap his arm around her waist, both of them keeping you close. The dry circle under your feet is crowded, and though the air is chilly, you’re still warm. You look aside to follow the second dry circle up to feet, long legs, a straight posture and all the way to the face of your new brother; whose normally harsh brows are set slightly softer as he takes in the way your eyes and cheeks are a ruddy, shiny mess.

Hajime even does his very best to paint on an encouraging, if barely visible, smile for you, and barely raises his arm to offer you a little wave, like most older siblings placate a fussy child. But for some reason, he doesn’t look nearly as fed up with you as you’ve learned he looks with most things. It’s a sure attempt at being kind to his new kid sister, if nothing else. And you let the visual of that burn into the back of your head, before hiding your face into your father’s pant leg— all the novelties are a bit too much to process in the stickiness of a drowsy summer day.

Your room is the one across Hajime’s room, all the way around the corner at the end of the hall. As it happens, you happen to have similar hours of sleeping and waking— which often leads you to stumble into each other upon first opening your eyes. When you were still little, you’d skitter out of reach before he could so much as apologize, unused to him and the situation. Unused to sharing a house with anyone but your father. And Hajime would creep into the kitchen with the kind of slowness of someone trying not to spook a scared animal— careful to open the cupboards, careful to offer you breakfast.

He couldn’t do much, wasn’t actually that much older than you anyway. But even a couple years seemed like a lifetime of difference when you were small, and teenage Hajime, with all his stubborn but well-meaning attitude, sure as hell could’ve convinced you. Oikawa Tooru on the other hand, not so much. He was better with words than your brother was, but never seemed to use them to bring out anything constructive. You’d find him sprawled out over your couch on the days where their practice ran long, chowing down your mom’s freshly baked goods before anyone else. And you’d glare and stomp your feet from the corner of the room, but never get close enough to say much back.

Oikawa Tooru, for all you knew about it, couldn’t care less what you thought about him in the first place, and you were perfectly fine keeping it that way. It’s one of those evenings when you’re about ready to go to bed that you search for Hajime, and find him walking back from the garden with a familiar red-green-white ball in his practiced hands. That, and then a long whine from your living room. “Iwa-chan~” The lithe, melodic voice of your brother’s best friend fills the hall and you can’t help the pout that slips on.

“Ugh,” Hajime lets out, similarly disgruntled as you are, “I gotta go put the bikes in the garage first.” It’s not really said to you, but you feel the responsibility anyway, and puff your chest out a bit while balling your hands to fists.

“I can go see what he needs,” you’re saying before Hajime nii can ask, and it brings a slight smile to his pretty features, that he tries and miserably fails to school back into neutrality.

The grin that creeps onto his lips under his chuckled breath is automatic. “You do that. And if he gives you a hard time, you just tell him that your big brother will rip him to shreds.” The brunet gives you a little squeeze of encouragement, before walking past you to slip out the screen door and head to the driveway. Your steps are loud when you parade into your own living room and put your hands to your hips. Oikawa’s laying on the couch, long legs peeking over the one end as he’s propped up on one elbow, other hand in the cookie jar without so much as asking.

You’ve always known your mom to have a soft spot for the guy, inviting him in any time of the day for ‘putting up with Hajime’— but you once again have to argue it’s the other way around as he obnoxiously stuffs one of the perfectly-made, crumbling treats into his maw and barely stops chewing to acknowledge you. “‘Sup? You want one?” the honeyed brunet asks, voice easy and fluid as he picks up another and holds it out to you with a raised brow. Your pout grows more pronounced. You made those together with your mom, for your dad and Hajime only. Niichan’s only allowed to have certain amounts of sugar to go with his volleyball career— and here he is eating them all up before you’ve even had the chance to boast to your brother.

You hate him. You cross your arms over your chest as you keep glaring, and Oikawa doesn’t miss a beat when he notices you won’t respond. “Y’know —hm, these are good— I know you’re not technically blood related, but you sure act like your big brother. Same glare when I’m talking. Anyone ever -hm- tell y’that?” He doesn’t stop chewing as he sticks his long fingers into your flower-decorated container again and pulls out one of the almond cookies. You know your expression must sour even further, because finally Oikawa takes the hint and pushes himself up a little on the couch. “What?”

“You’re getting crumbs all over our house,” you settle on saying, frustrated even more at the fact he really isn’t. He’s put down a napkin, with a perfectly neat collection of cookie crumbs in the middle; you can’t help but say it despite that.

“Am not.”

“Are too,” you snap back, and grab your pajama top to fist your hands into the bottom of it.

Oikawa folds one of his long legs to stretch it to his chest, then lays it back over the end of the couch. “You’re mad.” He clicks his tongue, before finally shifting his attention from you to his phone. But even as he picks it up and starts scrolling something or the other, his voice is a soft melody that irks you. “You’re always so mad at me for no reason, imouto.”

“I’m not your imouto.”

“You’re Iwa-chan’s imouto.” He puts the face of his phone down on his chest to give you a dramatic stare, then pulls up his lip. “So it’s basically the same thing. I’ve known you since you were as big as my little toe.” Then he hides his gaze back in his phone to scroll some more, with that annoying ‘pat, pat, pat’ sound that his finger landing on the screen makes. “It’s a shame, because I really like you.” He does that annoying thing where he gives you a guilt-trippy sort of pout that you give little kids when you’re trying to get your way— and you sure are old enough to know you don’t want to even think about letting up now. “I always wanted a little sister. I only have a little nephew though.”

“If you’d have a little sister you’d probably scare her away because you’re so weird,” you end up biting back, walking over to grab the container from his lap and closing it nice and tight as he stares at you with a blank sort of expression. “Made these for my dad and niichan, not you.” If he wants to ask, he keeps quiet, going back to tapping on his phone like it’s something important, and you can’t help but think he’s most likely just annoying Hajime nii’s other friends or the team. You take a seat on the coffee table, guarding the cookies from him, and take a minute to watch the side of his face as he fiddles with the device, like you’re long forgotten.

Hajime nii told you before that Oikawa’s the star setter of the team, a trusted center and main captain. You’ve seen them play here and there, and have heard the whispers that go around. And as much as you’re unwilling to admit it out loud, there’s something -pretty- in his features. How the skin of his cheeks is a little rosy and rounder, how his long lashes angle out to make his eyes look so bright and defined and irises glittering gold under the right light, the set of his lips and jaw making him look always at ease. Even the way his brown hair is a little bouncier and has cute tufts that stick out like little sprouts growing from fresh soil.

You guess older girls than you would know better than you do when they whisper about how cute he is.

You guess your mom is right when she talks about how kind Oikawa Tooru looks, and your father sends you two a little glance with a certain glimmer in his eyes. But you sure as hell won’t admit it to him— and definitely not when niichan’s around.

Eventually your eyes fall to where his white jacket covers his throat, or not anymore, to the blood-speckled purple blotch that sits right on the side of his neck. You frown, and lift your top lip in mock disgust, then you reach a finger out to jab it a little accusatory into the discolored skin. “What’s that?”

“Aw,” Tooru jerks, dropping his phone to the side to scamper away from your touch. Then he looks at you, and lays his cheek to his shoulder to hide the touched area even further, suddenly looking a bit flustered. You’ve never seen him look that way before, so it even surprises you enough to back off for a moment, as Oikawa eyes you down. “Why are you all up in my face all of a sudden? Don’t you know that’s rude?”

You huff, and go to sit cross legged in protest. “I just asked what the hell you did to get hurt on your neck.”

Oikawa is slow to straighten up, and pulls his jacket collar up higher as he rolls his shoulder, then scratches his ear, then looks away entirely. He looks embarrassed, you note with some shock to your status quo. This isn’t how it usually goes. Oikawa, mister better-than-you, doesn’t hesitate or get shy. “It’s a secret. Besides, you don’t need to know because you’re -like, what- ten? ‘S none of your business.” You’re not ten.

“Pff, I already know what it is,” you lie through your teeth, “I’m not stupid.” You toss your hair over your shoulder, and look away too. There’s only so many things that interest Oikawa. One’s volleyball. Another is school. It’s highly unlikely either of those would cause him to throw a fuss. And the last is girls. You’ve only ever seen Hajime react in any similar way when your mom suggests any girl in his vicinity might like him. You take a shot in the dark as you put on a testy grin, and lean in. “It’s because of your girlfriend,” you drag out the word as you watch Oikawa’s cheeks and ears go a little red, his brows angling into a frown.

Hajime chooses that time to come back in, and you look over your shoulder to watch him toss his jacket off onto the back of a chair. “Don’t bully shitty-kawa too much, he’s still sensitive.” He wipes his still-red hands, most likely from practicing, on his pants before ruffling your hair. “The breakup ripped out his poor little heart.” There’s some sympathy on his face, but barely half a second passes before the corners of his lips twitch up, as he looks at his friend and then back at you. Oikawa doesn’t say anything, but goes more red in the face, and you can’t help but stare transfixed as he zips his training jacket up all the way and glares back at your big brother.

“It did not,” he says back in exasperation, before checking a phone notification and this time rolling his eyes.

Hajime crashes down on the other couch, and you grab the box of cookies to take a seat next to him. You’re a little quieter after that, can’t help but watch the infallible Oikawa Tooru actually showing a sign of real emotions. You choose to focus on Hajime instead, and place the remaining box on his lap with a smile. The brunet’s quick to thank you, squeezing your cheek and giving you a soft poke in the side, before sighing. “You should head to bed, or mom and dad will be mad at me.” You try to disagree, but he just grabs your face and angles it towards the kitchen. “Go brush your teeth, go on.”

You don’t like hanging out with them or anything… but you still stomp your feet as you make your way to wash your face as told.

When you come out of your door nowadays though, you’re always expecting to collide with a solid chest at your first step beyond your room. Of course, he doesn’t live here anymore. Moved out when he went to uni, and lived in some far away, hole-in-the-wall flat with two guys who smelled like sweat and weed for most of what you saw from them, for all four years he was getting his degree and leaving you the longing sibling still stuck at home. But you never really grew out of it. When he visits, it’s what you always remember the most.

You’re always expecting to see your big brother first thing when morning comes. Expecting Hajime to wrap an arm around your waist to catch you when you cling to him in full bedhead, no pants fashion; let him guide the both of you down the length of the hall as you take the walk from your rooms to the kitchen as the full minute of extra shut-eye that might get you through the day. And niichan no longer bothers to apologize when he steps on your feet or you both almost trip and fall over anything in your way— him taking the lead, always.

He’s always been more of a morning person, and you sadly can’t resent him for that. His mom chuckles any time he deposits you on the chair by the kitchen island and plops down beside you on his own. “Alright, sunshines, what'd you need?”

“Water.”

“Coffee,” you whine, as your dad enters the room and presses a quick kiss to the top of your head.

The morning’s barely started, or your intuition is on high alert when Hajime clears his voice and casts the man a cursory glance. “Did you guys get to talk to her about what you told me over the weekend?” It’s vague and entirely useless, so it’s instantly suspicious when both parents react with a similarly tight-lipped recollection. Your dad only gives your big brother a little shake of the head, picks up an apple from the fruits on the counter, and walks towards the door.

“Not yet. I figure this is the type of conversation the girls will have on their own time, Haji. And I don’t want to be in the firing line when she freaks out.” He doesn’t react much when you give him a squeaked ‘dad?!’ and gives you three a blown kiss. “Love you guys, I’m off to work!” It doesn’t take you a second after the door closes to glance incredulously at Hajime nii, then at your mom as she keeps her eyes on the pancakes in the pan.

“Mom?” you try, only to get a quick smile over her shoulder. She has the decency to look a little sheepish at least, placing a stack of pancakes on Hajime’s plate and then on yours too. Meanwhile, the spiky haired brunet to your side barely catches your eyes, before starting to eat. And you glare at the side of his face until he gets a little uncomfortable and turns your chair the other way. You don’t like being talked about behind your back. Not even if it’s in good faith, not even if you trust the three of them with your life.

Your mother doesn’t usually gossip like this, so you can’t help but think… Hajime’s still refusing to look at you, choosing to focus all his attention on a spare blueberry. And your mom seems to notice, because as she places your cup of coffee before you, she gives her son a look that you can only describe as —suspicious. He doesn’t speak though, and glaring doesn’t work. You poke and prod at the food in silence for a few minutes before your mom clears her voice.

“Did you hear that the girl who used to babysit you got married?”

You don’t look up, only shake your head in a slow, stubborn acknowledgement of her words. You really didn’t. Yachi was only a few years your senior, but she’d lived close enough to pop by a lot when Hajime couldn’t watch you. You don’t remember the last time you saw her though, so it’s no wonder you didn’t hear about it.

“I was talking about it with Tooru-chan’s mom.” There’s a little pause there, where both people seem to hold their breath, before she continues. “And how she hopes Tooru gets married soon. You know, she even said Tooru has shown interest in getting married sooner rather than later, but because he’s so busy with his career he doesn’t have a lot of time to date. Said something about having his mom arrange a marriage for him,” there’s a soft chuckle from Hajime to your side, but you can’t see the humor in it. Not when your stomach is sinking a little more with each word. “And well, I suggested-”

“Absolutely not,” you pipe up in a quiet voice, now suddenly renewed in your focus to slice your pancake into the most even slices possible. You don’t want either of them to see how flustered the mere idea of the implication has you, stomach rolling around like it’s flung off it’s imaginary hinges.

“Oh, come on, darling. You’ve always gotten along with Tooru since you were little, and your dad and I know you had a little crush—”

“I did not have a crush on Oikawa Tooru,” you stand up from your seat with a loud, scraping sound, mouth dropping open. “I could only stand him because he was Hajime nii’s friend, and- no offense -but I’m pretty fucking sure the guy would sooner marry his own reflection than consider getting married to his best friend’s little sister.” You can’t help but feel a little prideful when that pulls a snort out of Hajime, who’s now slowly taking sips of his glass of water and pretending not to be involved.

He runs a hand along his neck, and gives his mom a long look. “Told you she probably wouldn’t even think about it.” He doesn’t sound nearly as smug as he could, but you still fight the urge to give him a punch in the arm as you walk past him to go breathe some much needed fresh air.

You can hear him follow a few steps behind while you walk out the back door and drop down into a squat onto the grass to start stress-picking at little blue flowers that pop up among the greenery. Hajime has enough common sense to let you be though, sitting down far enough away not to be a bother, until you choose to turn to him. “And what about you?!” Your voice lilts up so much it ends in a pinched whisper more than the angry tone you start with. “You even so much as entertained the idea of me marrying your best friend? That’s weird—”

“You’re being dramatic,” your niichan says, and picks one of the flowers from your fingers, “Tooru really likes you. And I don’t care about that possessive bullshit, if anything it’s good.” It’s stupid- and your stupid brain is a traitor for even popping the image in your head for a second. But you can’t help but think it’s totally weird that he’s so on board with it. You want to shake him for selling you out, want to — ask him to keep you close and not let go a little longer. You know it’s selfish, but somewhere within you, you had hoped that you and Hajime nii had more time together. Knowing Tooru is of marrying age, means thinking about the prospect of the brunet before you being of marrying age too, and…

You decide to ignore that thought as it comes to you, eyes flicking away to the house the two of you no longer share. “I want you to be with someone who I know has the best intentions at heart,” Hajime’s low voice really goes in one ear and out the other, “and like it or not, Oikawa does have that much.” Then the softer tone in his voice comes, the one you ever really hear him use when he’s with you; he grabs your hand to demand your attention. “And Tooru’s successful. He’s smart, he’s got the funds to provide for you. You don't want to think about that stuff because you’re young, but I think you’ll appreciate it when you’re our age.” It’s all things you know, and you trust Hajime implicitly.

“It doesn’t matter, because Oikawa’s never going to want to marry me. The guy can barely stand me.”

“You’re an idiot,” your brother chastises out of nowhere, pulling your hand to yank you within his reach and tossle you to the ground. You try and fail to wrestle out of his grip when he uses his weight to pin you down like you used to do when you were much, much younger. It was never a fair fight, but nothing compares to the way your big brother has long since traded his leaner muscle for built tissue, and physical fitness to rival any Olympic athlete. “You’re fucking beautiful, y’know that? He’d be lucky.” And though you send Hajime the nastiest glare you can muster when he crosses his arms over his wide chest and stares you down like he’s watching a glacier melt, you can feel honest to god heat rush to your cheeks.

With more than a decade that passed since you first had to deal with the guy, there’s bound to be changes. But it shocks you a little just how obvious it is now you’re looking out for it. Oikawa was always handsome, much to your dismay for many years of your childhood, but it’s different now he’s… a man. Taller, more toned, with a distinct tan from the Argentinian sun and lighter hair, he looks more like a second Adonis than the guy who used to get under your skin— and when his eyes meet yours with much less of that bravado and much more genuine confidence, you’re lost.

You saw the guy last year for Christmas. Your mom made you chaperone Takeru’s 17th birthday party, and Oikawa popped by in full glory. But it felt different.

You unhook your arms from the bar behind you when Oikawa comes over to wrap an arm around your back and presses a kiss to either cheek, before smiling. Full and perfect and— fuck. “Hey, birthday boy,” you manage to say, ignoring the way the absence of his hands starts feeling cold too soon.

“Birthday man now,” he grins with the words, and props one elbow onto the bar to support his head with his hand. Even this way he towers over you, and you can’t quite bear to look at him. “I think the boy-to-man cutoff is 28.” You can’t help but snort, and look up at him. He’s — so much more than he was. Much more everything. You fluster when he’s already looking at you though, pretty eyes scanning your face. You end up searching the room for Hajime to avoid looking awkward, and fiddle with your smirnoff glass. Your big brother’s talking to Tooru’s mother, and laughing, and only catches your eyes for a split second to spy ever so subtly on you both.

You know he is, because you’ve seen your mom give the same kind of looks. Everyone is smitten with the brunet by your side, and for once you can’t even blame them. He’s electric. You find yourself wound up and spun on your axes, without him even having to do a single thing. After a few moments of silence, he bumps your hip with his, sides basically touching. “So how have you been?” Not a second of pause and he smiles wider, “you still hate me?”

“I never hated you.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“You thought about it,” he chuckles, and even harder when you bite your lip to avoid having to speak. He quiets a little then, and leans close enough for you to feel like you’re drowning in his smell. “You look really good. Been thinking it all night, if I’m being honest.” It sets off fireworks in your veins when his lashes frame his eyes darker, entirely focused on you.

“If I didn’t know any better, Oikawa, I’d have to start believing what I heard.”

A smile tugs at one side of his mouth. “Which is?”

“You’re looking to settle.”

You’re flirting back— you know you are because your body’s curving to get closer to his touch, to the hand that lands on the small of your back; you just can’t believe it yourself. But then he brushes some hair away from your face and lets his eyes flick all over your expression, pulls his lip between his teeth. His mouth moves closer to your ear, and you feel like you’re soaring and dying all at once. “Darling, being with you wouldn’t be settling for anything.” Whatever spell he put on his voice is working, and when he pulls back you’re basically mouth to mouth.

“You’re a tease.”

“You like it,” he pops the ‘t’ before dipping down and laying a kiss onto your lips, so soft and sweet you melt in his hands. He’s pulling away before you even get a chance to savor it, and you let out a whine. Something that makes him laugh. “You gotta wait, we’re in public.” Public. You come back to your body, back to the room with all of your relatives— as you start burning with shame. You give him a punch to his pec, that he mocks hisses at, before grinning. “Desert should be out soon. We’ll have some time to sneak off then.”

It’s entirely inappropriate, you kissing your brother’s best friend, let alone -sneaking out of the room- and yet; you’re nodding at him, resolutely. Your stomach flips, and you have to keep yourself from rubbing your thighs together. And Oikawa basically glows when he notices, because he can’t resist sneaking two hands behind your back to grab your ass and pull you up against his chest, nosing at your jaw. “You’re- so fucking cute.”

You fight to get back to the floor because of where you are and because your dress is riding up, wobble onto your heels with a little pant, but still your heart’s pounding. Fuck, you must be losing it. You want that. You want that? Your skin tingles when he winks and walks away, picking up one of the champagne flutes from the bar to look back at you, and let his tongue peek out the side of his mouth. And you’re trying to catch your breath when you find Hajime between the people, green eyes beaming into you from across the room. You can’t read his expression but whatever he’s feeling, he’s no less obvious when he pulls a finger under his collar like it’s too tight, and runs his eyes down your body just once. In judgment, you can only assume.

So you’re not sure why his face is so pink, ears and cheeks both.

You should be embarrassed at how loud and desperate you’re being clinging to Tooru’s neck, letting him suck marks into the side of your neck for people to gawk at. He’s sweaty, and so hot, and so are you— pressed between his chest and the wall with your legs hooked over his arms. He pants against your collarbones once, twice, and breathes your name so lovingly into your skin. You don’t know what happened, you’re lost. One second you were laughing as you snuck out the room with Tooru giggling into your shoulder, and now you’re here, biting your lip so hard you pull blood.

“Oh, holy— fuck, Tooru. Tooru, Tooru,” you mewl, and he nods before taking a nipple into his mouth. You should think before you act. But you can’t, throwing your head back and moaning out his name as his cock slides in and out of you with a mind-numbing, rhythmic motion that only drives your brain further from the present.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he promises, and fucks like he’s never going to stop. Never going to let you walk on your own legs again, so solid as he drives your walls open and fucks you onto him. You’re bounced like it’s easy, and he straightens up to kiss you hard. “Feels good, huh? This tight, little pussy feels so fucking good too. So warm ‘n wet, all for me, yeah?” He hikes you a little higher, then kisses along your throat as you run your fingers through his hair and tug. He moans, but continues without pause, like fucking you was what he was meant to do all along.

“All mine, good fucking girl. So needy.” It’s kinda scary how fucking good his fat cock feels sliding in and out your clenching cunt. How embarrassingly messy you’ve gotten for him. “Or are you thinking of — someone else, ‘s that why?” You clench around him before shaking your head side to side, and swallow down a moan when he fucks right into that spot that makes you gush. He doesn’t pause to let you think about anything, pulling your head back to suck more marks into your neck, whimpering against his solid body and shoulders; but if you had thought about it for longer, maybe you could’ve figured something out.

Your wedding is more lowkey than you expected Oikawa Tooru to agree with, though you’re more than glad about it. You also realize that day that you should stop calling him by his full name, considering you’re an Oikawa too, now. The entire room is filled with only some family and friends, his old highschool friends and some of his newer team mates; your three closest uni classmates also in attendance. And your rock in the very front, Hajime nii smiling so full and wide it pulls his eyes into little moons. It’s entirely intoxicating, and so is Tooru when he shines so bright the sun in the sky can’t match.

When the night comes to a close, slowly, long hours later— Tooru carries you over the step of the door with all the excess dramatics you did expect from him. Only, you’re happy right now, laughing against his neck at every breathed well wish, every praise, and each time he tells you how fucking pretty his new wife is. You’d be lying if you didn't admit to it feeling damn good. When he swears you’re glowing, you’re inclined to believe it. He closes the door behind you two, and loosens the pretty, silk tie from around his neck as he watches you slowly shuffle back a bit towards the bed. His lips pull into a smile, before he hums, “I’ll come join you in a second, cutie.”

You kick your shoes off, and hum, and choose to start taking off your very expensive dress on your own. You know Tooru wouldn’t care about ripping it open, but you sure do. His steps go around the room, before he disappears into the bathroom, you think. You could use a freshen up too, honestly. The long, laced up back of your dress is barely undone before a soft knock comes from the door, and you look up, bristling at the sound. But Tooru’s nowhere to be seen —did he go out into the hall?— you keep the front of your dress to your chest with one hand while slowly sliding open the lock with the other.

“Why’d you—” You take a step back automatically, and look up with wide eyes. Hajime’s a little flushed when he steps through the door and pushes it closed, like he’s been running. You fluster under the flicking of his green eyes all over you, and down you. “Niichan, what are you doing here? Did you need something?” Hajime’s always been the quieter type. When he wasn’t around Oikawa to drive him to his extremes, he’d only ever speak when it was important. When his words would be an addition to the conversation, it made it feel like it was always important to listen.

But as he reaches out and brushes his fingers along your cheek and under your jaw- letting the silence hang as goosebumps build on your skin, you really wish he’d just talk. “Hajime nii, I’m kinda- in the middle of something.” You motion your eyes down to show your state of undress, barely kept up when he crowd you a little more, and you squeak. “Niichan, you have to leave. It’s- my wedding night.”

“And I’ll let you enjoy it,” Hajime says, though his eyes shine with a determination that doesn’t let you believe it for a second. But his hand doesn’t move when it drops to your shoulder, thumb brushing along the soft of your throat; making your heartbeat race wildly against him. The bathroom door clicks open to show you your husband without a shirt, who only stares for a split second before Hajime glares at him. “You had sex with my sister at your birthday party,” the darker brunet hisses, and Tooru smiles.

“It was my birthday, Iwa-chan, I got excited.”

You’re stuck glancing between the two of them with your hands a little shaky, a mix of the nerves of the day and of this situation collecting. Did Hajime really come in here to chastise you about your personal matters? You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks, before you’re pushing his hand off your shoulder and trying to lead him back out the way he came. “Hajime nii, if that’s how you’re going to be, you need to leave—”

He grabs your one wrist and then your other, and clicks his tongue when you struggle against him. “Shh, calm down,” he looks down at you then, holding your arms wide enough apart for him to fit right up against you, muscular body keeping you right in place. Faces hovering with only a few inches between. If you were hot before, you’re absolutely burning when you feel your dress slowly start to slip down by gravity, and bucking against Hajime only makes it worse. But he’s too busy looking at you to notice, or care. “I’m not gonna cause trouble.”

You feel two large hands land on your shoulders then, Oikawa coming up behind you to lean down closer towards you, and make the jitters even worse. What is happening? “Iwa-chan’s just a little jealous and upset that I fucked you when I did.” His hand wraps around your neck and squeezes a little, only to start stripping you of your dress with slow, deft hands. “He wanted to go first, and I messed that up for him. Isn’t that right, Iwa-chan?”

“You’re an ass.”

Whatever thoughts were building in your head fall completely silent when you stare up at Hajime in complete and utter confusion. But he doesn’t make any attempt to deny it, or tell Tooru how wrong he is, how wrong any of this is— that he doesn’t see you like that, you’re his little sister. Tears start welling up in your wide eyes before you can even open your mouth to make good on the many accusations that roam through your skull, and all that you can manage is a soft, “Haji?”

“Aw, you’re breaking the poor girl’s heart, Iwa. Come on, out with the confession. She’s clearly waiting to hear it.” The happy-go-lucky, lithe voice of your fresh, new husband does absolutely nothing to soothe your nerves, instead spiking them even higher. And you want to understand, you do, but nothing makes sense anymore. Like you’ve been dropped into a free fall with no end. As your big brother clears his throat, Oikawa’s quick to kiss along the column of your neck, letting his hands slowly trail down your sides to push the white fabric down more and more.

Hajime swallows, eyes avoidant. “Listen, I know,” he stops to let his eyes drop down to your new exposed bra, to Tooru’s hands going even lower than that, and locks his jaw with a glare, “stop that, I can’t concentrate.” The little chuckle Tooru lets out against your shoulder washes over you. And your brother takes a long look at you, all of you, before leaning down to - kiss you. Hajime kisses you needy and long, pushing past your lips with his tongue like it’s normal. Like it’s okay. You start struggling against him again, both of them, but go nowhere. When he pulls back there’s an unfair sort of softness mixed in with lust, forced down your throat.

“I don’t look at you as just a sister,” Hajime whispers, “not anymore. I want to be with you- and- and I knew that wouldn’t happen- couldn’t.” He’s panting like you somehow bewitched him, green eyes searching yours for any sign of agreement. “And I know you feel it too.” You want to fight, and scream at him to get the hell out, but— you love him too much to do that. Instead you’re forced to hang off his every word while Tooru keeps himself busy by getting your one leg out from the dress before the other. “And when Oikawa suggested he marry you, I…”

There’s a pounding, white noise in your head that only grows louder when he kisses you again, and claims your lips with a hungry groan. “I want you so fucking bad, so fucking bad.” You can’t do anything but shake your head side to side, and try to pull away from him.

“You’re insane. Both of you!” Though they’ve rendered you in your underwear by now, and you can tell what’s most likely going to go down— you still start struggling as hard as you can against the two of them, and push at Hajime’s hands until he has to wrap his arm around your torso instead. “Let me go! Let me go, I want out of here. Fucking, let me go!” Your voice breaks, and Hajime clings harder to you, keeping your feet from the floor as he walks you two to the bed. You try to kick and buck, but it doesn’t move him.

“If you’re going to keep shouting I’ll stuff something in your mouth to shut you up,” he says as he presses you down on the plush covers, keeping you in place by pinning you under his wait. “You want that?”

“Get off of me, you’re crazy! You’re my brother! My brother!” Then you glance at your husband, and sneer at him too. “How can you go along with this?! You two are— you’re the w-worst, god— niichan, get off of me! Off! Now!”

“I love how fucking fiesty you are,” Oikawa chuckles from the end of the bed, wrapping those long fingers around your ankle to pull. “But we should probably shut her up, Iwa-chan. Can’t have security burst in here.”

“I know,” Hajime sighs, and gives you another look, and then places his palm over your mouth before you can start begging. Your tears well up harder, and run down your temples. ‘Wait, no,’ you’re mumbling against his palm, but it’s too late. As soon as he takes his hand off a piece of fabric is shoved in, and his tie used as a makeshift gag. “It’s going to be okay, just calm down. We’ll take it out when you’re calm,” your brother promises, and gives you a soft kiss to your forehead that you want to hate so much. But you can’t, it still has that same soft feeling as before.

Your pretty brunet husband is quick to secure your ankles to the railing of the bed, a bit too tight to be comfortable. But he smiles, and comes to sit on the bed next to you to wipe the tears from your eyes too. “As for me, I really do like you. A lot. So you don’t have to feel too betrayed. I’m just helping out a friend, you get it. Pay it forward- kind of thing?”

Hajime glances at your feet, before placing a hand on your stomach to rub comforting circles into your skin, then raises a brow. “Her panties?” Tooru is a bit too smug when prodding under the fabric with those long fingers of his, and lets the elastic snap back against your skin with a little smile.

“We can take easy care of that.” He gives you a stare that makes your blood feel hot, picking at the little bow and pulling the lacy fabric. “My little wife. I love that title for you, cutie.”

“Don’t push it,” Hajime grunts, before Tooru pulls so hard the fabric gives and tears apart at the sides, leaving you bare. And both men get clearly more pent up when Tooru runs a finger down your slicking cunt, up and down to drive you crazy. “Me first,” Hajime’s quick to say, and Tooru only laughs at the possessiveness your brother shows at the mere thought. You’re still sniffling around the gag though, spit soaking the fabric as you watch how they exchange places and Oikawa makes quick work of your lacy bra too.

Your brother is transfixed, and you both want to glare at him and look away as he spits on his fingers and rubs two fingers up and down your glistening bottom lips, dipping into your hole only to pull back. “Fuck, you’re wet. You’re really wet,” he chants, first to himself, then looking up at you and the way you’re burning through your own skin from embarrassment. “Knew you wanted it too, I just— you could’ve just asked. We wouldn’t even need shitty-kawa to be here.”

“Don’t be rude,” Oikawa breathes back, and dips his face to your neck and hands to your tits to knead them, play with your nipples, and suck them into his mouth to be abused by his tongue. “Get to it already, before you cum in your pants.” The insult is barely given any notice when you moan around your gag, Tooru’s quick fingers rubbing and pulling at your pebbled nubs just right. Hajime moans lowly, and then grabs himself through his pants. Everything after that happens quickly. His shirt and pants go, and Tooru’s tuxedo is shed to the ground without a second thought, all the while keeping your body busy with greedy touches.

It feels so good, that by the time Hajime’s pulling out his cock and shoving his boxers down his thick thighs, you’re squirming in anticipation, cunt dripping down onto the perfect, white sheets below. Your brother’s cock is very hard, and so is your husband as he shoves his hand inside his own and lets out a long moan when grabbing himself. “Oh, fuck, you’re so cute when you glare at me like that. Makes me want to fuck that attitude out of you,” he gets closer to your face, and pushes the fabric down to push his hard, flushed cock and slap it against your lips. “If I take this out you’ll be good for us, won’t you?”

Hajime’s fisting his cock and wrapping a ring of fingers around the head to fuck in and out of for a few, before throwing his head back. “No, I can’t wait. Fuck her face later. You’ve got all the time.”

The soft, melodic chuckle Tooru lets out fills the room as he watches Hajime line up with your clenching, needy pussy to hum. “Well, so do you. You’re welcome, by the way.” Though the darker brunet makes a face, he grips your hips tighter, and pushes in without thinking twice. The feeling of him spreading you open is too much, you’re tearing up again. You mumble his name around the gag, and choke a little as he pushes in so much deeper than you were expecting. But it feels good. So good.

Tooru pulls out the gag to instead replace it with his fingers, and beams down at you. “Our little wife, look at you. Open wide, baby.”

#iwa x reader #oikawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru #iwa smt #oikawa smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #hq x reader #tw.noncon #tw.stepcest #tw.dark content #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.iwaizumi #💫ch.oikawa

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vivalabunbun · 10 months

Text

As You Are, I Am Too

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

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

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

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

Side Note: Here is a continuation

Do you believe in soulmates?

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

Who doesn’t want to experience that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But do you believe in soulmates?

“No.” Alhaitham puts down his drink.

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still, the great mystery remains.

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

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

———————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, just heading to bed.”

“Okay, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t believe in soulmates.”

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

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

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

————————

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

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

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

The circumstances had aligned.

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

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

Although, he could learn to launder better.

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

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

Two bodies, two rooms, and two beds.

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

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

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

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

Wordlessly, you begin gathering each wrinkled garment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He says nothing, waiting for you to continue.

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

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

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

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

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

“...”

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

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

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

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

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

A fickle and potent-smelling flower.

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

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

“Is something the matter?”

“The smell is giving me a headache.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———————————————————————————

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

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

“You can have some.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re just not to my taste.”

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

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

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

———————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

“Sure.”

You could get out of the house a little more.

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. He should’ve knocked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

———————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———————————————————————————

“Alhaitham.” You greet him at the entranceway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Flowers, chocolates, and movie tickets.

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

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

A chemical cocktail the mind gets drunk on.

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

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

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

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

He never asked, you never told.

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

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

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

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

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

———————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

———————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

He read it after you.

———————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For my husband.”

“Oh? What does he like?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your bottle couldn’t contain the ocean anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

A lecture from an inescapable past resurfaces.

————————

“Hey, kiddo.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————————

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

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

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

So blindsided by it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a silent death.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you accept the vile glass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe you should’ve just stayed home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

———————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————————

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

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

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

Teal eyes peer through the gap between the oak doorframe.

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

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

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

His shouts resume, volume escalating by the minute.

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

————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The dinner must have ended.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A new habit of yours which started some months earlier.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh? It sure looks like you did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Strip,” he commands.

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

“Yes, furious even.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go to hell,” you spat out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need to confirm it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

“Ah! Mmmh! A-ah Ah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bed frame pushed to its limits.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A bastard.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s unreliable,” Alhaitham announces.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I never-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“417 left.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ 0.543,” You blurted out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Phenylethylamine, oxytocin, dopamine.

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

So, why is your chest aching?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~Fin

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