#it's my final written assignment of my degree

[storiesoflilies]

metanoia

synopsis: (n.) the journey of changing one’s mind, heart, self, or way of life. Or alternatively, the story of two souls who bond over drinking green tea. w.c: 17k (oops)

pairing: college!toji fushiguro x f!reader (noncurse!AU)

warnings: bucketloads of fluff and sprinkle of angst. descriptions of past bullying (toji didn’t have a nice childhood) SMUT, so minors please do not interact! nipple stimulation, p in v sex (it’s all rather romantic i must say), unprotected sex (these college students need to stop being so horny). a lovely little slow burn romance for the soul. swearing.

a/n: based on this request, and it’s finally here nonie!! a piece of my heart has been woven into this piece, so i hope everyone enjoys! to all my fellow STEM students, this one’s also for you <3 toji art by @/kakashismain, dividers by @/benkeibear. spotify playlist. ao3.

there was nothing else to do or say about fate, other than it was fixed. no matter how hard you might try to change it, she never believed it could be.

life was a series of scrawling numbers and greek letters, written by the hands of angels and god. it was never going to a straight line; rather, it was a scattered mess of ever-changing parabolas, dipping and rising above the axis like surfers on the waves of the sea.

but sometimes, just sometimes, you can hear what has been written about you. if she tuned into things really hard, and listened beyond the banal noises that came with the plane of existence all humans exist in, she could hear it. the scratching of a pen on paper, or perhaps a feather quill on a scroll? yes, that sounded more like it. she could hear the angels solving the puzzle they had been given to balance the equation of her life. things must be solved in a certain series of formulas to become a proven, tangible equation. the angels were still trying to prove her life, it seems, and it was quite simply astounding that they were still working so hard and figuring it out.

but the irrational part of her couldn’t help but think, what if they were bored? she could certainly understand; there were many times when she’d been made to solve trivial questions, such as calculating the speed of an aircraft, and she’d wished she could be anywhere but there in that moment. did the angels think that about her equation? would they ever get bored and just give up on her?

with that, the cold, beautiful reality that is life becomes apparent. none of it was personal, and she had to live it right up until the equation was balanced and the last drop of ink ran dry.

it was golden hour. that time of the day when the sun’s light softened, casting long shadows of buildings and trees across the pavement. warm honey rays filtered in through the window, refracting through the clear plastic display that showcased the traybakes of the day. the cafe was quiet now, just after the hustle and bustle of regular work hours. most of the patrons were university students, drawn to the cafe for its convenient location near the main campus, where they downed their coffees like it was a drug to be taken multiple times a day.

she couldn’t judge them; she was included in that typical student caliber too, but instead of drinking her weight in murky brown caffeine, she preferred it to be of the green kind. more specifically, a cup of green tea took her brainpower much farther than its more popular, teeth-staining counterpart. and the perks of working for the very same cafe?

every cup of it was free and unlimited use for her; something she took advantage of every single shift.

the job couldn’t be more perfect for her. although her shifts were daily, they were always scheduled during these quiet golden hours that extended into the stretch of moonlight, accommodating her university hours. choosing to study a degree in physics was certainly no joke, and she was grateful for any spare moment of peace to work on her assignments and reports. her manager never minded, leaving her to riddle away at her numbers, which went straight over their head, trusting her to still serve any customers coming in and close up the shop.

it was absolutely fine. a simple, predictable routine – an equation she was perfectly happy to solve every single day.

until it wasn’t so easy.

| Φ |

some time later that night, well after the sun had dipped below the horizon and the moon had finally peeked out from behind dusty grey clouds, the delicate bell above the doorway tinkled. it snapped her straight out of her trance, where she had been listening to the music of mathematical constants singing to her of defined, set values from the sheet of paper leaning against the wooden clipboard of ‘speciality beverages’.

it was him.

toji fushiguro.

the dark haired boy she had seen around campus, although he probably hadn’t noticed her flitting about between lectures; unusually quiet and unfairly attractive. the boy who obviously frequented the gym close by, and came here to her little cafe afterwards. that much was obvious from the way the wet strands of hair stuck to his forehead, the spicy smell of whatever body wash he used, and the all black attire he always wore. the very same same boy who she’d curiously asked about, only to be told that he kept to himself and didn’t really speak to anybody.

and she believed it. she had never seen him walking with anybody else, or even bringing anyone along to his daily study sessions at the cafe. the way he grimaced at loud, boisterous students, typical of their age group, told her enough. that toji fushiguro didn’t seem to like people very much, and was perfectly happy with not being liked in return.

“hello,” she meekly piped out, her voice barely above a squeak, because toji was quite an intimating figure. “what would you like?”

it was a silly question. she knew he would order his usual – green tea, just like her. but it was a question she asked regardless, just in case his routine equation had somehow changed. you never know, after all. perhaps the angels had miscalculated or wrote down a wrong number.

“green tea, please,” he grunted, not quite meeting her eyes. he then sauntered off to his usual table by the window, and began pulling out his study material from his canvas bag.

she was grateful for the simplicity; there was nothing worse than preparing an elaborate order in the quiet of the night and disturbing the peace. brewing green tea was something she knew like the back of her hand, easy and peaceful like breathing. she strained the herbs as she poured it into a delicate ceramic cup, which the cafe insisted on serving it in, and brought it over to him.

toji muttered a small thank you, and she politely smiled, even though he never once looked at her. walking back to her spot behind the counter, she placed the clipboard on her crossed legs, and resumed her musings. such was their routine, both of them in their respective worlds within the same plane that was the cafe, sipping their green tea and whittling away at their education.

she almost felt honored that of all the cafes open late into the night, this was the one he picked to come to. even if the bitter, realistic part of her insisted that it was only because it was conveniently close to the gym. still, their equations followed the exact same sequence of numbers at that time every day, and she found that positively wonderful.

it was nearing 10:30p.m. when she finally finished solving her report, and she guessed that toji was completely engrossed in whatever he was working on to not notice the time. he would have normally packed up his things by now, ordering one more cup of tea before heading off wherever it was he went to in the dead of night. probably back to his accommodation, because he just didn’t seem like the type to show up to late-night parties full of booze and sweat.

she didn’t know what to say, or how to say it. the logical part of her brain was overthinking everything because this just wasn’t the norm for them. toji was supposed to have packed his things, leave just the exact amount of money on the counter, and walk out without another word. she was considering not even saying anything at all, biding her time until he simply realized himself and walked out.

until her legs moved of their seemingly own accord, perhaps a result of the numbers being messily rubbed away and rewritten, straight towards him. he never even heard her; his black wired earbuds were firmly in his ears, and she wondered what sort of music it was that toji fushiguro listened to. she quickly tapped his shoulder, withdrawing her hand back to her side as quickly as she could. toji almost jumped out of his skin as he turned to acknowledge her.

“sorry,” she apologized, looking pointedly over at the clock on the wall above him. “but we’re closing soon.”

toji frowned, as if he didn’t really believe her, until he glanced at the digital clock on his laptop and jumped into action. “sorry,” he said rather awkwardly, hurriedly packing up his things as she stood at a respectful distance away.

“it’s no problem at all. please, take your time,” she replied as politely and delicately as she possibly could, looking away as he messily scraped his papers and notebooks into his bag.

his chair scraped uncomfortably across the floor, and he heaved his bag over his shoulder as he shoved a hand into his pocket, fishing for the exact change he needed. for a second, she thought, hoped, that he would hand it to her. but no, he almost jogged over to the counter and placed it right next to the black mug of green tea beside her clipboard.

toji paused, momentarily staring at her mug. she felt a flush of embarrassment, as if even he knew she wasn’t supposed to be drinking it out of a large mug. but he said nothing and rushed outside.

everything fell back into place, as according to the laws of the world, and seemed right again.

| Φ |

there was something inherently uncomfortable about contemplating the future.

as summer rapidly approached, with only about four months left of the semester, she found herself forced to confront equations she didn’t want to solve. it was during the night, when she should have been fast asleep, that she really tried to listen in on the angels scribbling away at her numbers. it was cheating really, an easy way out to hear the answers of what she was supposed to do. perhaps if the end of her final year wasn’t so dreadfully final, then it would have been easier to formulate her own answers.

well, they weren’t really her own, but anyway.

she was in her own little bubble tonight, absentmindedly sipping her tea and tapping her pen against the clipboard. she knew the answer to the problem at hand, some menial question about what angle a beam of light would reflect at, and so she could afford to daydream and listen to the music of the numbers singing in her head.

it was quite easy to imagine a picture being painted from the numbers. why bother calculating the angle when you could visualize the light bending instead? that was what mattered in the end, not just the face value of the number itself, but the tangible reality they represented. there was no point in scribbling away at the numbers if you couldn’t paint a picture in your mind of the light itself or feel the thumping of sound waves reverberating through the surrounding medium.

there was only her and toji in the cafe now. he’d breezed past her earlier on the way in straight to his seat, dumping his bag on the table with the air of a student who was beyond fed up with their lot. she knew what it looked like; she’d seen it too many times throughout the years and had been through that position herself.

she tried not to make it obvious she was looking at him, or admiring the way his arms moved in the tight compression shirt he wore, the way his wet hair was slightly slicked back today, and the way his annoyance sparked a beautiful flame of green in his eyes.

he looked over at her, and she quickly looked away.

dammit.

she heard his footsteps approaching her, but her embarrassment forced her not to look at him. instead, she focused heavily on pretending to be stuck on the paper in front of her.

“hey, uh, can i get a green tea, please?” he asked, his voice deep and undeniably addictive.

“yes, of course!” she replied swiftly, putting on her best customer service voice to shield her embarrassment as best as she possibly could.

toji shifted his feet from side to side, his hands in his pockets, and mumbled, “could i possibly have it in a mug, or something? it’s just… the teacups are really small.”

a deviation in the curve, an unexpected variable. she answered anyway, perhaps a little unsurely, “oh, sure, yeah. no problem at all. is this one fine?” she lifted her mug awkwardly off the table, and toji looked at it and nodded.

“yeah, that would be great. is it, uh, more expensive?” he asked, and the way he asked it made her heart ache, as if he was ashamed of having to in the first place.

she waved her hand at him, playing it off like a silly unnecessary question. “oh no, not at all. don’t worry about it.”

toji seemed visibly gladdened at this, the tension in his face releasing as his eyes brightened. he stood there, swinging on the balls of his feet, and she was quite surprised he was waiting for her to finish brewing the tea instead of bringing it over to him. she had to steady the slight tremor in her hand as he watched her brew the tea with practiced precision. after what seemed like an eternity, she placed the mug on a small plate and carefully handed it to him.

“thanks,” he said quietly, his eyes fixated on the mug and the thin wisps of steam wafting from it. then, like an afterthought that was actually painfully thought out, he added, “appreciate it.”

she could have sworn the corner of his lip lifted, and she almost lost her footing as she sat back down on her stool. though she knew it was impossible, it seemed as if time had been stuck in that moment, the laws of physics crying out for some sense of normalcy to resume.

and so she cleared her throat, pulling free time from where its coat was stuck on the doorknob. “no worries. let me know if you need anything else.”

but he was already walking back to his seat, firmly slotting back the numbers and variables into the places they were supposed to be.

newton’s first law of motion states that an object at rest or uniform motion will continue to stay that way unless acted upon by a net external force.

or the law of inertia, as it was also called, and she much preferred that instead. it was what she thought of every time she saw toji making his way to the door of the cafe from the window, taking large, purposeful strides like he knew where he always wanted to go at all times. he was that object in uniform motion, his life seemingly constant without any real deviations. she thought of it every time he walked out of the door too, and wondered if there would ever be anything significant enough to achieve a large enough force to change his trajectory.

so what large enough force had been applied to make him finally ask for a change to how he drank his tea? maybe he had never considered it before, never realized there was any other option other than the abysmally tiny teacup he had used before. perhaps the fact that he had stopped and seen her mug the night before had opened up new possibilities for him. whatever it was, it didn’t really matter, because he looked so much more at ease now that he wasn’t hanging on for dear life to a teacup too small for those hands of his.

those big, attractive hands, with good, strong veins running through them.

toji looked up at her from behind his laptop.

the tip-taps of her pen became just a notch louder, and she bit her lip, almost crossing her eyes as she focused a little too hard into the hole of the letter ‘a’ in the word ‘angle’.

dammit.

| Φ |

it was march, and the cherry blossoms that grew around campus were now blossoming in full swing.

what little free time she had between university work, endless laboratory reports, and working at the cafe, was spent walking around the town and parks. while hearing the songs of physics and numbers was her way of life, sometimes it was nice to wind down and appreciate the beauty of biology and chemistry. to see how the rain that fell from the skies was soaked up by the weed flowers thriving in the cracks of the pavement. they were tiny little warriors, persevering in the face of the hundreds of people who surely walked this path, avoiding death by being crushed.

the air was cool, and it was late enough in the day to make it feel much cooler than it should have been. she rubbed her arms through her jacket and picked up the pace. it was a week break in the semester, and it was much busier than it should have been for that time of the day. her manager had offered her more hours to work during the break, and she had mistakenly accepted the offer instead of taking some time for herself to do what she liked.

she entered the cafe, the little bell chiming, and smiled at her colleague, who seemed rather grateful that they weren’t alone to deal with the swarm of students enjoying a relaxing coffee. it was rather different from the anxious energy that usually accompanied students in here, but it was a welcome change to see unburdened smiles before the exam season hit them all in full merciless force.

together, they took on the onslaught of orders from all the customers walking into their quaint little cafe in the middle of campus. she couldn’t remember the last time she’d made such complex teas, brewing flavor combinations she couldn’t even concoct in her wildest dreams. by the end of the rush, with her colleague having finished their shift, she was left in a frazzled state of tea stains and sticky sugary syrup.

and that is precisely when toji fushiguro decided to walk through the door.

she almost froze, a mixture of shock and embarrassment washing over like a bucket of ice-cold water. why, she’d never seen him in the cafe while the sun was still in the sky, and he wasn’t even dressed in his usual fitness attire either. instead, it was a black jumper and jeans. this was most certainly not part of the equation at all; she had never even considered to calculate the probability of such an event occurring.

“hey,” he greeted, as casual as the jeans he was wearing, while fidgeting with the hem of his jumper.

“hi,” she answered, dusting off some imaginary dust from her apron because she didn’t know what else to do with her hands. “the usual?”

toji seemed somewhat surprised at this. “yeah, please.”

she couldn’t lie; it was such a welcome relief to make something so simple amidst the chaos that was the ever-changing trends of beverages. had the universe written an additional formula just to provide her with just a moment’s respite? or was it the law of attraction being employed?

no, that was surely wishful thinking. there was no way that toji fushiguro had anything in common with her.

“are you sitting in or taking away?” she prompted, the extra words slipping through her lips.

he thought about it for a second before nodding his head, “uh, yeah, takeaway please.”

“no problem,” she replied smoothly, amazed at how well she was deviating from their usual interactions, and poured the tea into a disposable cup. “there you go.”

toji mumbled a ‘thank you’ as he carefully placed the coins on the counter, his hands completely enveloping what she would have once considered a large cup.

what compelled her to say the following words, she didn’t really know, but she called out in a hopefully not-so-loud voice as he turned to leave, “enjoy the blossoms!”

just why? why would you say that?

she was even more mortified when toji simply walked out the door without sparing her a second glance. the universe was cruel for adding that into the equation, and she could have sworn, to add further insult to injury, that two girls had watched their exchange and were snickering.

enjoy the blossoms? stupid, stupid, stupid!

| Φ |

for the rest of the day, she felt as if the second law of thermodynamics very much applied to her.

as she recounted her absolutely horrific exchange with toji, she felt the heat of the universe pressing down on her isolated being, causing her atoms inside of her to bounce of the walls that was her skin, sending her into a more and more disorganized chaotic state of existence. she actually hoped for once that the deviance of the otherwise constant line would continue to do so, and that toji wouldn’t come to the cafe later on that night. then she could resume solving the equation as it was meant to be solved for the next night, and she could continue on as if nothing ever happened in the first place.

so when their routine did end up resuming its normalcy, and toji walked into the cafe with his dark wet hair and canvas bag, she was too mortified to even speak to him, despite him being the only customer in the shop. she got straight to work brewing him his tea, avoiding even looking anywhere near him as he set his things down at the table.

her lack of attention, for once, almost caused a head-on collision.

“hey, oh shit! sorry,” toji cussed, even though it was completely her fault, as he stopped whatever momentum he had in his body from crashing into her.

she hissed as the scalding tea splashed onto her fingers. “oh, no, i’m sorry! are you alright?”

“yeah, don’t worry about it.”

with a wobbly, quivering lip, she went around him and placed his mug on the table, being careful to avoid placing the wet bottom anywhere near his papers. it was there she caught a glimpse of some messily scrawled-out calculations on a piece of scratch paper, and her brain immediately started to sing.

no, don’t stare. it’s rude.

“sorry again,” she whispered, looking straight at the ground and being careful to not step in his way again.

toji never even made a sound, and she didn’t dare to look up to see if he was looking at her. she ran her finger under some cold water before taking her usual seat at the counter, and picked up where she left off on summarizing her lectures. it was perfectly quiet now, save for the scratching of her pen on paper and toji typing away on his keyboard. this was peaceful, easy, and– hold on. why could she hear the sound of the music?

“hey, sorry to interrupt,” toji interjected, making her jump. “do you have any sandwiches or something left?”

“oh! no, i’m sorry, what’s on display is what’s left,” she answered shakily, putting her pen down on the counter. “i, um- the protein balls are pretty decent, if you like that sort of thing.”

“oh, sure. yeah,” he murmured, looking at the several flavors that were available. “I’ll take the, uh, peanut flavor. that any good?”

she smiled softly, despite the throbbing sensation in her finger. “yeah, it’s not bad. you want two?” he nodded, and she wrapped them both up in a paper bag as he procured out coins from his pocket.

toji dug around some more, patting down his pockets to make sure there was definitely nothing lingering in there, and his stomach audibly growled. the air became a touch too awkward, and she stared at the sad-looking change on the counter. she slid the bag over to him with quiet understanding, and gave him the kindest smile she possibly could.

“hey, don’t worry about it. it’s on the house,” she encouraged. “sorry, i should have said that from the beginning.”

toji shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “oh no, i couldn’t do that. sorry, i’ll just leave it. i thought i had enough change.”

she pushed the bag further towards him. “it’s fine, i insist. please.”

he slowly took the bag, as if he wasn’t sure that it was real, or that it was maybe going to bite him. “thanks,” he said quietly, and retreated back to his seat, packing up his things, while she sat there trying to will her atoms back into their rightful place.

“thanks again,” toji rumbled softly as he held the door halfway open. “i’ll see you tomorrow?”

“o-oh yeah! yeah, see you tomorrow,” she stuttered back.

with that, he closed the door behind him, the bell tingling a beautiful farewell for him, and she was left with the atoms of her thumping heart completely dispersing into the atmosphere as she frantically tried to claw them back down.

| Φ |

tomorrow came and went, and they had settled into a slightly different flow of their routine, although the core essence remained the same.

instead of waiting for her to bring over his tea, toji now waited at the counter for her to hand him a large, steaming mug of his fix. they never spoke anymore than what they did before, but there was something that had changed between them. something so subtle that it couldn’t be defined properly, but she knew it was there, and she hoped toji knew it too.

it was april now, and the flurry of students cramming for their exams in may were in full swing. when she wasn’t at the cafe, she was holed up in her shared accommodation, buried underneath a blanket that may as well have been a black hole swallowing her whole. there, she studied for the last set of exams she would ever have to sit at university, but she tried not to dwell on that fact.

not that she didn’t study at the cafe, but toji’s presence added an extra dynamic that made it difficult to focus as well as when she was alone. despite her best efforts, she couldn’t help but constantly glance at him when she was confident he wasn’t looking. right now, she could tell he was silently stressing over his exams too. spending so long in silence with another person meant she could tell the slight quirks in his face that signalled a changed in trajectory of emotion.

currently, the deep frown lines etched in his forehead meant that he was monumentally stuck on something. he’d been like that ever since he powered up his laptop and stared at the screen, the dim light casting an artificial, cold glow on his face.

once again, she didn’t know what compelled her to do what she did next. maybe it was the fact she knew he had barely touched his tea, and it was surely cold by now. or maybe it was the desire to momentarily distract him from his frustration by bringing him a warm, fresh brew. whatever it was, her body was moving according some new formula the angels had applied, and she found herself simply walking over without saying anything and placing a piping hot mug next to his laptop.

“huh? oh, thanks,” toji said slowly, daze-like, as if he wasn’t sure she was real and doing this.

she smiled softly, quickly glancing at the scratch paper in front of him, and oh no – he wasn’t composing the music correctly at all.

“that isn’t the answer,” she stated simply, looking back up at him. he frowned again, momentarily confused, until she pointed at his paper and said, “you’ve calculated this wrong. that isn’t the right equation to use.”

toji looked back down at his paper, sighing softly, and rubbed his face as he seemed to sink deeper and deeper into his chair. she couldn’t understand it; there was absolutely nothing to be ashamed of in getting a question wrong. she’d done it before herself many times, and more than likely would continue to do so.

“sorry, i-uh, i’m not very good at mathematics,” he mumbled shyly, and her heart started to crumble like a biscuit.

she pulled her pen out of her pocket and clicked it once. “no need to be sorry. do you want me to show you how to do it?”

toji nodded wordlessly, and slid the paper over to her, angling the laptop so she could see the question displayed. it was about calculating the speed of an athlete's arm as they threw a ball through the air, but he hadn’t used the correct equation, nor the correct standard units. she quickly wrote out every step of how to solve it, did a final check that her mental calculations were correct against his gray calculator, and slid the paper back to him.

“there, be careful with your units and don’t forget to include them. most of my professors have strict marking against not writing the proper ones, i don’t know about yours, but it might be better to be safe than sorry,” she explained, her throat tightening as he intently looked at her working out.

it felt personal on another sort of level, and strangely intimate.

he seemed to be taking his time studying it, with a slightly blank look, as if what she had done was still going well over his head. “yeah, good point. thank you,” was all he mustered, and he tilted his head at the scratch paper.

“do you want me to explain anything?” she prompted, half expecting him to pretend that he understood everything. that would have been typical of a student at university - faking it until they somehow made it.

so she was pleasantly surprised, but not at all unwilling to explain it when toji nodded again, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks. she tried to recall how her teachers in high school had taught her these concepts, trying to adapt their tone of voice: patient and understanding. she leaned over to be more at eye level at him, trying to seem less intimidating, and their close proximity was sending her brain into overdrive.

“i hope this makes more sense now,” she said as she wrapped up the explanation.

toji’s lips formed a small ‘o’ shape, and the scar gracing them resembled the greek letter phi, but with the line running over to the right side instead of the middle. if she didn’t need anymore proof that the boy sitting in front of her was perfect, then the angels had just thrown in the winning factor.

phi, the perfect golden constant, now belonged in her mind only to toji fushiguro.

“uh, yeah actually,” he hummed, seemingly appreciative, his eyes sparkling against the dim lighting of the cafe. “thanks so much.”

she couldn’t help it, but she grinned widely. “no problem at all.”

she started to walk away, biting her lip when she turned her back to him, already feeling the bitter sting of disappointment that things would probably be back to normal after yet another deviation. until toji called out, “you’re really good at this. what do you study?”

“physics,” she replied, hoping the shock wasn’t too evident in her voice. “what about you?”

“P.E.,” he answered, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. she had to try very hard not to stare at how nice his biceps looked. “i stupidly decided to add a sports biomechanics module as my optional one. kinda regretting it now.”

toji chuckled halfheartedly, and she almost swooned, but opted to tilt her head to the side and say, “oh, but don’t you find it fascinating? it’s the numbers behind the real output of an athlete.”

“oh, well i never really thought about it that way.” he seemed to be genuinely pondering her outlook on the matter, staring hard at the numbers before him, and she felt the blood rising to her cheeks. toji looked back up at her and smiled a devastatingly handsome smile. “i suppose it makes sense for you to think like that.”

she didn’t really know how to reply to that except an, “i guess so,” and then added a polite follow-up of, “what sort of sport do you, then?”

“judo and jujutsu,” toji replied smoothly and completely casually. “i train at the gym before i come here.”

“oh yeah? that’s quite intense.”

“not so much if you enjoy it, really.”

“easy for you to say. you’re obviously in much better shape than the rest of us.”

she almost cringed externally at that.

obviously much better shape? why on earth would you say obviously, stupid?

but toji only chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “hard work, i guess.” he mumbled, staring back at his paper.

she glanced up at the time, noting that it was almost time to close. “well, I'm sorry, but you might have to practice it yourself at home.”

he looked panicked for a second, his eyes darting over to the clock. “oh, yeah. probably.” and started to slowly pack up his things.

she didn’t want to observe him anymore than she already had, so she busied herself by washing their mugs and quickly wiping down the counter for the morning shift, while toji was taking his time neatly packing away his things. was it wishful thinking that perhaps he was stalling. whether it was or wasn’t, she left him to it, switching off the lights everywhere except at the entrance. she swept her eyes over the cafe to make sure she hadn’t missed anything before heading out.

toji stood beside the door, his eyes flitting about anywhere but her, obviously waiting for her to finish locking up. she tried to ignore the fluttering in her chest and smiled awkwardly at him as he finally met her gaze. he shuffled outside before she did, hands in his pockets as he looked up at the nights sky, the silver moon shining between stringy wisps of clouds.

he looked like a scene straight from a movie – a movie where a beautiful boy was up against the weight of the world. she could see it all clearly now: his scuffed up trainers, canvas bag with dirt stains scraping the bottom of it, the hole in his shirt near the hem. and yet, she knew he had real strength, the quiet sort of kind, that would completely surprise anybody that decided to come at him.

she locked the door behind her, the keys jangling, disturbing the relative quiet of the street. the distant whooping of boisterous students, no doubt drinking and partying away their stress, could be heard a little ways off into the distance. the bright light of the 7-11 across the streets flickered, and she briefly considered buying some cheap dinner before heading home.

she cleared her throat and gave him a small smile. “well, good luck studying.”

toji breathed out a half-hearted laugh. “thanks, i’ll need it.”

“if you’re still having trouble with your calculations, you can always ask me tomorrow,” she reassured, feeling bold enough to assume that his equation would continue to equate to hers.

he seemed to hesitate, as if debating something within his head, and replied, “yeah, sure.” but his tone left much to be desired, and she was already kicking herself for being so direct. “sounds good.”

she bit her lip and mumbled a weak ‘goodnight’ before walking straight into the 7-11 to escape.

| Φ |

the next night in the cafe, after quite a long day of punching numbers into her calculator and her eyes swimming with all sorts of symbols, she was contemplating the sheer power of a supernova explosion. it was golden hour, and toji had arrived much earlier to study. his deviations from the norm weren't so jarring anymore, and she’d almost come to sort of expect them at this point. he’d actually met her eyes as she prepared his tea, and even offered her a smile and a ‘thank you’.

the time passed on quickly, and soon enough, it was just her, toji, and two other customers – fellow students – inhabiting the same area. it was around 9:17p.m., the usual time for it to be a sacred silence. so when four boys staggered through the door, the bell cried out aggressively from the force of them nearly ripping open the door, completely tearing her from whatever daydreams she had been lost in.

they were cruel, uncaring about her or the other patrons they were disturbing with their raised voices and boisterous behavior. she kept her cool, not letting their jeers and sly comments get to her as she prepared their orders, wanting to get them out of the cafe as soon as she possibly could. one of them was particular unnerving, staring at her more than the others did, a creepy smirk on his lips and dangerous glint in his eyes. he was like a black hole, and she felt as if she was about to be swallowed alive.

she felt like she couldn’t breath, as if her body didn’t remember the biomechanical process to allow her to expand her lungs and fill them with sweet air. were the angels in serious danger of their calculations becoming completely wrong? was her equation to become something twisted and tragic by the end of the night?

when the group left, the evil boy had glanced over his shoulder to give her one last indecipherable look before he took off at a run after his friends. she exhaled shakily, willing her body to remember how to breath, and decided to distract herself by cleaning any and all random nooks and crannies she could find in an effort to distract herself.

oh how she hated them those stupid, idiotic boys – and that their words and manners had such an impact on her.

she’d worked herself into such a state that she hadn’t even noticed toji standing awkwardly at the counter until she turned to sip at her ice-cold tea, and almost yelped in surprise.

“hey,” toji greeted gently, delicate raindrops against a pane of glass. “it’s eleven.”

and so it was as she noted the time on the clock. she wiped her brow and discarded the now completely blackened cleaning cloth into the rubbish. “sorry, i’ll just get the keys now. you head on.”

“no, it’s okay,” he hummed. “take your time. i’ll be outside.”

when she finally finished the usual locking-up routine, toji had resumed that vision of perfection from the previous night, and it was almost impossible to even consider, but he was even more dreamy than before. toji had to have been carved by michealangelo; born of marble and beauty, and forced to to live in this plane of existence. in some rural countryside of japan, at a public university campus, surrounded by bog-standard students trying to scrape through life.

she felt he didn’t really belong here, as if he was already slipping through her fingers, even though he never really was between them to begin with.

“see you tomorrow,” she said in farewell, giving him a small wave and already walking away.

the loud thuds against the pavement reverberated the immediate vicinity, and toji huffed as he caught up to her, “hey, uh, whereabouts do you live?”

“not too far, about a ten-minute walk away,” she replied, almost floored at the fact that he had just run after her. “why?”

“just… you ok if i tag along? i could use the company.”

“…sure?”

they walked side by side in silence, and her mind was going into complete overdrive. she was trying so hard not to be completely floored that somehow, on a random April night, toji fushiguro was walking her home. it was obvious that he was lying about company – perhaps not an outright lie, but it definitely wasn’t the whole truth. time seemed to have passed quicker than it should have, and before she knew it, they had arrived at her accommodation. toji seemed to hover, looking over his shoulder, his body seemingly tense.

“well, this is me,” she announced, jingling her keys for good measure. “huh, are you okay?”

toji was glaring into the darkness, into the twisted labyrinth of twists and turns in between buildings, only really half-listening. “yeah,” he replied tersely, his fists clenching. “you’re staying at home tonight, right?”

she nodded nervously, suddenly hyperaware of the deep, foreboding inkiness of the night. “mhm.”

he turned to her, verdant eyes simmering with something nearly as dark as the sky. “good, i’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“bye, toji.”

but he was already striding off into the labyrinth, off to face the dirt and coal thrown at him, when he himself was made of marble and gold.

| Φ |

a week after toji had walked her home, she had her first final exam, during which the whole time her thoughts were consumed by him.

of toji fushiguro.

toji and his eyes of forests and jade. of his sculpted body, and all the angles and lines that made up his face. his scar that made him golden and perfect, her phi. of how she had seen him on campus the next morning after he walked her home, wearing a white t-shirt and jeans, split knuckles raw and red against the marble of his skin. how he’d finally noticed her outside the cafe for the first time and actually smiled at her.

her friends – more so acquaintances who had happened to become close simply because they were on the same course –had noticed the exchange. when toji had walked well out of earshot, they had bombarded her with hushed whisper-yells of excited “oh my god!" and "how did you even get him to smile? i’ve never even heard him speak.”

and she’d shrugged them off, fending off their curiosity with, “oh, he comes to the cafe all the time, that’s all.”

she didn’t want to get into all the details of toji and her. well, just toji really – there was no 'and her'. their time together was a coveted treasure, and she was strangely possessive over it.

that night, as she handed toji his tea, she plucked up the courage to ask, “what happened to your hands?”

toji automatically looked down at them, flexing them as if even mentioning them made them burn with pain. “oh, nothing, just went a bit too hard at training.” it didn’t occur to her not to believe him until she was staring blankly at the last question of her exam.

she thought of the evil boy in the cafe, of toji staring down into the darkness and looking over his shoulder as if demons were just behind them, and he was the only thing keeping them at bay. maybe he really was doing just that. maybe that’s why he had continued to walk her home every night, as their graphs continued to overlap even more closely together.

she came out of that exam feeling as if some sort of hidden revelation was waiting to be discovered, and by god, how much she loved to solve for a new equation.

toji was already waiting for her at the cafe when she arrived for her shift, an occurrence steadily getting earlier. he immediately took note of her coming in, and his eyes lit up. she smiled brightly at him, offering him two thumbs up, to which he grinned and pushed away his laptop before approached her.

“so, it went well then?” he prompted, the ghost of a smile still playing on his lips.

she poured them both two mugs of tea, and held hers out towards him. “yeah, it wasn’t too bad actually. cheers to that!”

toji chuckled and clinked his mug with hers, the both of them blowing on the tea before sipping it tentatively. he went back to his table, resuming whatever he had been doing, and leaving her to serve the customers. that was perhaps the only drawback of toji arriving earlier - that their time spent together was interrupted. but it also served as a tantalizing countdown to when it was just the two of them.

obviously, their dynamic had shifted dramatically in the past week, and they’d settled into an easy-flowing sequence – something that felt as if phi would be, so perfectly balanced and positively golden. toji seemed to want to unveil the mystery of his equation to her, but bit by bit, which she didn’t mind at all. she loved slowing figuring out the scale of his axes, plotting all his points together, and finally drawing the curve that connected them all.

toji fushiguro could only be described as steady, a mountain that would never bend or break, his roots so profoundly deep that she had to really dig to see them. he loved his body, but not in a superficial way, but more that it was something he was in control of and could continually improve. she discovered that he drank green tea not just because it was healthy, but because it was cheap. how most of his gym wear had varying sizes of holes, and he carried around a tiny sewing kit in his bag at all times because he sometimes only noticed one when he was out and about.

most importantly, today he had divulged what he wanted for his future.

“i want to get out of this hellhole as soon as i can,” toji had sighed exaggeratedly, stretching his neck backwards. whenever the last customer had left the cafe, he’d drag a chair over to the edge of the counter. not so directly in front of it that he was blocking any customers, but just enough so that they were sitting across from each other.

she rolled her eyes playfully at him, nibbling at the cap of her pen. “oh, how original. you and every other student in this university.”

“well yeah, obviously, but not as much as me,” he retorted.

“what make you so different, then?”

“i’ve always wanted to leave, even before i got here. i want to to go and live in tokyo.”

“tokyo, huh? and what do you wanna do there?”

“well, eventually i want to open my own dojo and teach jujitsu, but i’d probably have to start out as an instructor.”

“oh wow, you’ve got a solid sort of plan. have you always wanted to do that?”

“yeah, i really hate it here.”

and he’d gone quiet, but she didn’t press him. instead, she focused on her textbook because there were still exams to be studied for, and waited for toji to come back to her. where he went in those moments, she didn’t know. there was something lurking in the shadow of the mountain, and he still seemed to be fighting against it even now.

she knew he’d come back to her when he’d lean in closer, cheek against his palm, and try to make sense of whatever diagrams appeared on the pages she was reading.

“that looks cool,” toji murmured, pointing at whatever had piqued his interest. “what is it?”

and she discovered, not that it was a real shock, that toji was so very curious. he wanted to know things, he liked to know how things worked, and he was really clever. she would explain as best as she could, and toji would follow along diligently, nodding his head every so often and asking the occasional question. many people probably underestimated just how smart he really was, but she never did.

“this is a diagram that sort of shows what einstein’s theory of general relativity is all about.”

“ah right, it’s pretty famous then isn’t it? cuz it’s einstein's.”

“haha, i suppose so, yeah.”

“what’s it about?”

she bit her lip and tilted her head, placing her finger as a makeshift bookmark and closed the book between her fingers. “it’s about… how really big objects like planets and stars cause gravity by bending space-time.”

“Bending space-time is gravity?”

“It’s because the bigger object has caused smaller ones to be pulled closer to it, if that makes sense.”

toji nodded slowly and laughed. “it’s a bit over my head. how you perfectly understand it is beyond me though.”

“i wouldn’t say perfectly,” she replied bashfully. “but i think it’s a beautiful theory.”

“you think every theory is beautiful.”

“haha! no, well yes, but that’s besides the point!”

“well, what is the point?”

“that something has had such a profound impact, because it’s so big and larger than life that it’s impacting all the other small things around it and pulling them in closer to it.”

toji smiled, the kind of smile he had when he was more vulnerable and soft, when his barriers were down and forgotten about. the way he looked at her made her body jolt with thousands of little lightning bolts.

“yeah,” he mused thoughtfully. “yeah, that is kinda beautiful.”

| Φ |

five days.

that’s how long it had been since she’d seen toji, and she missed him more than she cared to admit, even to herself.

it wasn’t ideal, right smack in the middle of the exam season, to be so distracted by a boy, but toji fushiguro wasn’t just any boy. he was the boy who she spent every day with, and the past two weeks had been a rosy dream as they talked more and more. it was now the middle of may, and she was almost done with sitting all of her exams. she should have been thinking of her future, about a solid career plan, and where she wanted to live.

but no, all she could think of was the laws of physics and toji fushiguro, and counting down the days until she could see him again.

he was currently out on a placement excursion, teaching ten-year-old kids during their regular sports curriculum. it was almost comical, and she couldn’t help but smile to herself whenever she thought of toji surrounded by a bunch of wide-eyed children. he’d already been groaning about it before he left, about this and that, and how much he didn’t like silly kids and their silly faces.

“what are you smiling about?” one of her friends whispered suspiciously, leaning in closer to her so as not to disturb anybody else in the library.

she shook her head, and told a little lie, “oh, just about how close we are to finishing uni. it’s sort of unbelievable.”

her friend raised a brow, clearly not believing her. “sure, and it doesn’t have anything to do with fushiguro?”

“ugh, why do you keep bringing him up all the time? i told you there’s nothing going on there.”

“i’ll believe that when i stop seeing you smiling like an idiot in love. now, c’mon and focus on this.”

love? no, no, it wasn’t love. not quite yet, at least, but she knew it was getting there. she felt a slight tremor in her chest, traveling all the way to the tips of her fingers and then the ends of her toes like an electric current across a wire. it was unfathomably scary to admit it, but it was nothing but the truth.

she was falling for toji fushiguro.

she ducked her head down, her pencil scratching against her notepad as she attempted yet another sample question, endeavouring to distract herself from all thoughts of him for the rest of the study session. as soon as she had to leave for the cafe, she practically shoved her things into her bag and almost ran towards it. toji should be back today, with it being friday and the school week coming to an end.

when she got there, her manager was behind the counter in the midst of serving a customer, and the cafe was reasonably busy. the overwhelming aroma of coffee wafted through her nose, warm and inviting, and familiar. she wondered if toji thought of her whenever he smelt coffee.

she certainly hoped that he did.

“great you’re here,” her manager beamed, handing her an apron to tie around her waist. “i was wondering if you would like to take some time off whenever you finish your exams? my nephew is coming to visit, and i’d like to put him to work instead of him lazing about all day.”

she was immediately hit with a sheer sense of panic. if she didn’t work, then how else was she supposed to see toji? it was so utterly embarrassing and pathetic, that she was so enamored with this boy that she was willing to work just to see him. but then she thought about what would happen after graduation, and how they realistically would not be seeing each other – perhaps ever again.

“sure, that’s alright with me,” is what she finally said after a moment's hesitation, but her manager surely picked up on her hesitant tone.

“never have i ever seen a student who didn’t want time off work,” they chuckled, hand on their hip. “this has got to do with that dark haired boy, doesn’t it?”

heat creeped up into her cheeks, and she busied herself with pouring a cup of coffee for a customer, as her manager gazed at her in bemusement. “no,” she squeaked out.

“oh to be young again,” they said in a sing-song voice. “don’t worry about not working though, i’m sure that boy would follow you anywhere you go. i’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

she didn’t quite know how to respond to that.

when the moon had risen high into the sky and the shop was empty, she waited and waited for toji. he was late, and he should have been there by now. or maybe he wouldn’t come? she thought it might have been quite bold to assume he would have tonight. he was probably tired from a whole week of teaching, and maybe he had decided to just go home and rest. she couldn’t blame him for that.

but that didn’t stop the soul-crushing disappointment from tearing her in two.

the sky must have felt her distress, because soon enough the pitter-patter of rain falling against the roof ensued. maybe metaphysical pain was real, and maybe she would spend her whole life trying to prove her theory. what a tragic future, she thought, and sniffled as she locked the door behind her.

and then she turned around, and toji was standing there, his chest heaving.

for a moment, they just faced each other. he was all wet, black hoodie all soggy and weighed down, sticking to him like a second skin. his green eyes were alight, looking at her with a mixture of nerves and something else she couldn’t place. toji exhaled shakily, his lashes fluttering as he blinked fast.

“sorry,” he mumbled. “i tried to get here sooner, but there was an accident and my train was delayed.”

her heart melted; she felt as if she was one with the rain puddles in the dips of the pavement, one with the water pooling beneath toji’s feat. could it be love already? maybe her loved ones, wiser and older than her would have said it was, but she felt too young to know it.

and yet, here was a boy standing in front of her, who had run through the rain and labyrinth of buildings to get here.

“oh, toji,” she gushed, instinctively opening up her umbrella and shielding him from the torrent of the sky. “you’ll get sick.”

she didn’t realize just how close they were together, trapped underneath the tiny space, until toji was staring down at her. a water droplet dropped from his hair, over the ridge of his nose, caressing over his cupids bow and parted lips, all the way down to his chin and onto her lip.

she shivered, feeling as if their lips may as well have touched.

“it doesn’t matter,” toji whispered, in that deep, almost sad tone that belonged only to him, and she finally admitted internally just how much she missed his voice. “it’s only water.”

they stood there staring at each other for a heartbeat too long, until she broke the silence with, “let’s get out of here.”

and then they set off at a slow, shuffling pace, the backs of their hands and shoulders brushing against each other, and she thought a live spark might just ignite off her skin. the rain sounded like little stones tumbling off the top of the umbrella, and the smell of the wet pavement served as little momentary distractions against the all-consuming feeling of toji beside her.

she didn’t want it to end, and so when they reached the entrance to her accommodation, and turned to face him. “you can’t go home like this. won’t you come inside and dry off?”

toji’s eyebrows shot up, and he almost looked like a deer in the headlights. he was fighting within himself; she could see it in the way his hand flexed, his knuckle touching hers. “i’ll just make your floor wet though,” he muttered, looking down at the ground.

“it doesn’t matter,” she urged, and added a desperate. “please.”

that seemed to snap him out of whatever internal deliberation he was having, and toji nodded. “okay then.”

she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face, almost immediately turning towards the door to hide most of it from him, taking out the keys from her pocket and fumbled with one hand to grab the correct one for her door. his proximity behind her was beyond distracting, her back felt like the south side of a magnet, and toji was her north. it would be too easy to fall back into him, and so she endeavored to root her feet into the ground and resist the urge.

she finally opened it and they passed through the unwelcoming vibes of the main lobby, toji’s shoes squelching loudly with every step he took. the student behind the desk glancing uninterestedly up at them, and then sharply looked back up, staring with saucer eyes at toji in tow behind her.

she once again fought with her keys, the sound echoing throughout the empty corridor, and pushed open the door to her shared dorm. it was compact but efficient for two people to live comfortably together. her flatmate was curled up on the sofa with her boyfriend, shui, in the main living area, only lit up by whatever was on the tv.

“roomie!” her roommate called out, oblivious to toji’s presence. “how was studying today?”

“yeah, great,” she answered, glancing back at toji awkwardly standing by the door. “you?”

“all goo- oh! oh. hello there!” her roommate finally registered toji’s presence as the door clicked shut behind him, immediately jumping out of shiu’s arms, who also looked back over his shoulder in intrigue.

“hey,” toji mumbled, a puddle of water now collecting over the white tiles.

shiu waved his hand at toji, who flicked his chin upwards in acknowledgment. she immediately turned to her roommate, “hey, you think you have something from shui’s he could borrow?”

her roommate sprung into action, scrambling off the sofa. “yeah, yeah! sorry! i’ll be right back.”

toji remained where he was, stationary as a rock, his emerald orbs flicking every which way. she wondered what he was thinking, but she was too consumed by the monumental event that he was really standing there in her living room to dwell on it.

her roommate burst out of her room, smiling brightly as she handled a bundle of clothes to toji. “there you go! the bathroom’s just to the left there.”

he strode straight to the bathroom, his eyes meeting hers just before he closed the door.

“girl,” her roommate excitedly whispered, vigorously grabbing her forearms. “what the- what is going on? i didn’t know you and fushiguro were together.”

“we’re not together,” she rebuked, biting her lip. “we’re just… friends.”

her roommate scoffed, nearly bouncing up and down in glee. “shiu, you know this is the first time she’d brought a boy home.”

shiu hummed quietly, an unlit cigarette dangling between his lips. “that’s great, babe.”

her roommate scoffed, rolling her eyes at him, and her grip tightened just a fraction. “is he spending the night? oh my god, you both should stay and watch a movie with us.”

“oh, i don’t think he’ll stay…”

“girl, just go and get changed into something else, and i’ll talk to him when he comes out. you know people can’t say no to me.”

before she knew it, she was being pushed into her room, and the door was slammed behind her. she breathed out shakily, sliding against her wardrobe with her head in her hands. her heart was racing, and fuck fuck fuck, what the hell was she thinking bringing toji here?

she heard the bathroom door open, and the quiet baritone of toji’s voice mingled with her roommate's bubbly one. the words ‘pizza’ and ‘movie’ were mentioned, and she rushed to shimmy off her clothes and into her slightly better-looking loungewear, checking her hair was presentable enough. when she quietly opened her door, toji had his back towards her, wearing a black t-shirt that was a size too small and grey joggers that hugged his thick thighs.

he turned to face her, and the tense look on his face relaxed. her roommate piped up from the sofa, “hey! i was just saying that toji should stay and watch a movie with us while his clothes dry.”

she bit the inside of her cheek, and softly said to him, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

toji looked between her and her roommate, before replying with a low, “I’ll stay.”

her roommate clapped her hands together. “great! I’ll order the pizza.”

she walked over to the adjacent sofa to shiu, and hesitantly sat down on one edge of the sofa. toji followed and lowered himself onto the other empty side, leaving a space of everything and nothing between them. soon enough, her roommate returned and plonked herself right in between shiu’s spread legs, shuffling through the channels until she settled on a movie. the pizza arrived some time into the movie, and the four of them helped themselves. she couldn’t help but steal glances at toji, his face illuminated by the tv's glow as he brought a cheesy slice of pizza to his mouth, his expression blank and unreadable.

whatever way the angels must be solving her cosmic equation, they were obviously applying toji’s formula. their numbers were intertwining, creating a new constant, and she wondered what sort of symbol would represent the two of them.

toji met her gaze, and the corner of his lip curled upward.

after the movie had ended, her roommate had ushered a bemused shiu into her room and wiggled her fingers in an excited goodbye. “shh,” she’d giggled, while shiu rolled his eyes at her, tugging on the sleeve of her pyjama top. “don’t make too much noise, you two.”

and with that, she shut the door, leaving them alone.

together.

in her living room, on the same sofa.

“do you, uh, want to watch something else?” she murmured, her legs folded beneath her.

toji breathed out a quiet laugh. “please. i’m sorry, but that movie was actually so bad.”

she nearly snorted, clapping her hand over her mouth in an effort to contain her giggle. “yeah, it was pretty shit.”

the clock above the tv read 1:42 a.m., and she wondered if toji was tired. she assumed he would be after waking up so early to teach a bunch of energetic children. “you want some tea? i was just going to make some,” she asked, her ankles cracking as she rose from the sofa.

toji slapped his thighs, and steadily got up as well. “sure, but i should really get going soon. i don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“spend the night,” she blurted out before she could stop herself. “none of us would mind, i promise.”

she then stupidly, pathetically even, held out her pinky towards him. toji frowned, clearly confused. “what are you doing?”

“a pinky promise.”

“oh right, yeah.”

he curled his pinky around hers, and a tiny electric shock sparked between them. she hissed and drew her hand back, but their eyes met, and they both erupted into a fit of hushed giggles, which only served to make them laugh harder.

“okay, you stick something on tv and i’ll make the tea,” she grinned, her bare feet softly padding on the floor as she went over to the kitchen.

as the kettle boiled, she watched toji flicking aimlessly through the channels, his face contorting when he came across something he didn’t like. he settled back onto the sofa, legs spread out as he reclined, mop of thick hair resting against the armrest. the shock of having him her in her home had faded now, and it felt almost natural for them to be around each other in this way. she brought over his mug filled with green tea, and he looked up at her gratefully as he took it from her. she sat down on the other sofa, stretching her legs out. toji’s eyes were slightly red, and he was yawning great big yawns, with the mug delicately balanced on his chest and one arm behind his head. the tv was on a low volume, and the she wanted to pause time, even just for a while.

“hey, just lemme know when you wanna sleep. you can sleep in my room,” she murmured, hands grasping both sides of her mug, feet rubbing against each other.

toji looked over at her, a scowl playing on his features. “and where are you going to sleep, the sofa?”

“well, yeah.”

“no.”

“but you’re the guest!”

“shut up, no.”

“bu-”

“no.”

she huffed playfully, throwing a hand up in surrender, to which toji smirked at. they sat in comfortable silence, watching some silly competition show play on. despite the tea, she could feel herself becoming sleepier by the minute. she looked over at toji, who seemed perfectly content to lie there and watch the contestants make complete fools of themselves.

“bet that guy’s gonna fall off,” he mumbled, his arms folded over his chest. she only hummed in response, her cheek squished against a pillow, and toji grunted, “you the sleepy one now?”

she laughed, which interrupted her yawn. “maybe.”

“go to sleep then. don’t stay up for me.”

oh, how much he didn’t know about how long she would stay up for him, and how long she would really wait. but she couldn’t say anything except, “you sure?”

“yeah, yeah, i’m cool here.”

“hold on, lemme get you a blanket and pillow before i go.”

she returned promptly with them, kneeling down to place them on the floor beside him. when she looked up, she didn’t realize just how close his face was to hers. toji’s eyes flicked down to her lips, then back up to her eyes.

she gulped.

“good night,” he whispered.

“night,” was all she could muster before overcoming the magnetism between them and walking away.

| Φ |

the final stretch.

a flurry of pens on paper, pounding hearts, a tripwire of nerves, and then…

“time is up! please, everyone, put down your pens. the exam is officially concluded.”

she leaned back in her seat, a sheer sense of awe crawling over her. this was it, she was done. her last university exam, all of it was finally over after three long years. her fellow students were of similar sentiment, with wide, nervous smiles, as if they all couldn’t really believe this was happening, as the smacks of numerous pats on the back reverberated through the hall.

the sun was shining on her face as she exited the exam hall, warm and inviting, promising that the hope for the future wasn’t unfounded. they were all high on life, with the thought that the world was their oyster, and they would all be lucky enough to find their own pearls.

“oh my god,” her friend groaned exaggeratedly, hands on her knees as if she’d just run a marathon. “it’s over.”

"yeah, it is," she hummed in agreement, basking in the sheer awe of the moment.

her friend barked out a laugh and clasped her hands together. “right then, i’m going to get ready for the party tonight. you are coming, right?”

“yeah of course,” she confirmed, shocking even herself that she would be going out. “we can only celebrate this once.”

her friend squealed, pulling her into a big hug before breaking away and trotting off. “bring fushiguro! maybe you both can get drunk and finally kiss,” she called out over her shoulder.

a few students looked over at her, and the embarrassment was almost crushing. she’d come to understand now that everyone on campus knew who toji fushiguro was. he was renowned for his adonis figure, the kind of handsome that only existed in fiction, and the fact he most certainly wasn’t associated with any girls or went to any parties.

until perhaps now, of course.

later that night at the cafe, as she fidgeted at her spot behind the counter, she plucked up the courage to ask toji, “so, you can totally say no if you don’t want to come, but there’s a party that’s happening in my building to celebrate the end of exams.”

toji looked up from reading her quantum mechanics textbook she had brought and grunted, “a party, huh. you going?”

“yeah, i’ll be heading over after closing up,” she replied, a bit deflated that he hadn’t seemed to notice she had dressed up quite a bit from her usual attire.

he hummed, nodded, and went back to reading. “i’ll see how i feel.”

that was no definitive reply, and she picked apart his usual baritone and analyzed in her mind as she went through a back-and-forth internal debate, trying to deduce some sort of meaning from it. she’d arrived to the party about an hour ago, and she was still thinking about it as she sipped away at some fruit-flavored punch that was far too delicious and dangerous for someone who didn't really drink. her lips were already numb, and the creeping giddiness was making her feel the joyousness of all that life is and would be.

her course mates had their arms around her shoulders, all of them loudly singing, more slurring really, in a circle to whatever song was thumping through the speakers. a part of her wanted to loose herself in the silliness of it all; it gave her courage and made her seem capable of things she would never have dreamed of sober.

“oh my- don’t look, but fushiguro is actually here,” her friend slurred through her ear, nearly shouting and sending a ringing noise piercing through her eardrum.

she turned around, and sure enough, there was toji fushiguro pushing his way through the throng of students dancing in the cramped apartment they had decided to congregate in. his green eyes met hers, and relief ran over his features. it was cheesy, as well as completely impossible, but time seemed stretch and distort, slowing to a crawl the closer he got to her. her friend released her from the circle, giving her a calculated shove and sending her stumbling over her own feet.

straight into toji’s waiting arms.

“oh, fuck,” he shouted as he caught her, holding her forearms in a firm grip. “you okay?”

she stared up at him, the alcohol running through her blood making her lips spread into a big, dopey smile, and giggled, “yeah, you’re here.”

she could have sworn the tips of his ears turned pink, but the flashing, multicoloured lights made it too hard to make it out properly. it took her far too long to realize that toji still hadn’t let go of her arms, even as her punch had spilled on them both, and as even more people stared and bumped into them.

“you want a drink?” she shouted, standing up on her tiptoes to reach his ear.

toji grimaced. “no thanks, i don’t drink.”

“oh yeah, you’re a proper athlete and all,” she hiccuped, her body flushing with heat and the sound of the music.

he only laughed at that, his emerald eyes twinkling with possibilities.

| Φ |

“be careful,” toji hissed as he quickly moved to steady her as she tripped over the doorway into her dorm. “jesus, you’re a mess.”

“i-hiccup! no, no i’m a ss-shtar,” she wallowed, chuckling madly at her own antics. “ssstar! star.”

“yes, yes, a star, definitely,” toji mumbled, closing the door behind them, and maneuvering her securely along with him.

“hehe, am i youuuur star, toji?” she giggled, her legs giving out from underneath her, suddenly turning into jelly.

he snorted, using her strength to lift her off the floor and into his arms. “yes, you are. now c’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

her head rolled against his chest, her head swimming in a pool of red stars and blue moons, all of them circulating around a green sun. “go onnn, you have to say i’m yo-hiccup-ur star!”

“you’re my star, now c’mon. get into bed.”

as soon as he laid her underneath her duvet, her head started to pound and swirl the moment she closed her eyes, her stomach lurched as if she was actually free-falling, and she groaned loudly. toji kneeled down in front of her, his face oh so very close to hers.

“what’s wrong? you wanna get sick?” he asked, forest eyes deep and ethereal as they took in her probably smeared makeup.

“i close my eyes and it feels bad,” she mumbled, feeling childish as her silliness became too much for even her not-so-sober state to listen to.

toji settled into a more comfortable sitting position, and she could feel his breath caressing her face. “tell me about something then, don’t think about it.”

“like-hiccup what?”

“anything. talk to me about stars, or whatever.”

“stars, really? okay… did you know, that there’s -hic- all different colors?”

“no, i didn’t actually. why’s there so many?”

“cuz they’re all different temperatures, that’s why.”

“that’s really cool. tell me about all the colors.”

“ohh, well there’s blue stars, those're the hottest one. and then there’s…”

| Φ |

she woke up to a throbbing headache and a burning stomach, her eyes hurting as light filtered through the opaque grey curtains of the window. the white wall beside her bed was the first thing she saw when she peeked her eyes open, so dreadfully plain and uninteresting, but rolling over to the other side was another sort of unnecessarily difficult task.

she almost threw up when she saw toji lying there on the floor.

“toji?” she whispered urgently. “toji?! are you awake?”

he grunted in annoyance and rolled over to face her, his midnight hair all messy on a pillow he had procured from who knows where, although there was no blanket to be seen. the light through the curtains softly enhanced his features, the scarred side of his lip twitching as he flitted somewhere in between the realm of dreams and sleep, and oh how her heart was absolutely swooning at the sight.

she smiled to herself, quietly watching him sleep and quickly forgetting about how ill she felt, because none of that mattered. only that she could hear the scratching of quills, ruffling feathers, and the soft music playing, telling her that this was it.

she was in love with toji fushiguro.

there was no other way around it, no more denying it to herself or anyone else. she loved him, the boy who slept on a rock-hard floor beside her all night, listening to her drunk and probably terrible explanations about stars and who knows what else.

green orbs peeked out from hooded lids, and toji mumbled, “what’re you lookin at?”

she bit her lip, trying to contain her giddiness at her sudden revelation, and reached over to poke his hand. “you. why didn’t you sleep on the sofa?”

toji's eyes fully opened, and he grabbed her finger and tugged gently. “cause, what if you needed to get sick and tripped in the dark? you might be a star, but you don’t actually shine, you know?”

“hah, you’re hilarious,” she retorted, letting him waggle her finger with his hand. “what else did i say, then?”

“that i’m the nicest person on earth for staying with you, and that i deserve free green tea from now on.”

“chancer, i definitely didn’t.”

“but how do you know you definitely didn’t?”

a loud knock at her door jolted them both out of their banter, and her roommate belted from the other side, “oi, lovebirds! we’re all going to get breakfast, want to come with?”

she looked expectantly at toji, who shrugged and mouthed ‘sure’, and answered back, “yeah, be out in a sec!”

“lovebirds, huh?” toji mumbled, as he intertwined their fingers, the corner of his lip curling upwards.

oh, angels in heaven above…

“shut up.”

| Φ |

the month of june was of blue skies and scorching pavements. of far too many melted vanilla and matcha ice-creams dripping onto their clothes. of heat mirages and the cool, sweet relief of air-conditioned cafes and shopping malls. of lying on dried-out, yellowed grass at night, their sweaty hands firmly holding each other, while looking up at the midnight sky and divulging all their deepest secrets.

it was when she learned how toji got the scar on his lip.

he was twiddling with the hem of her baby pink t-shirt, and not quite looking at her. “my cousins used to bully me when i was a kid,” he admitted quietly.

her gaze snapped over to him, soul aching for him. “toji, that’s awful. did you tell anyone?”

toji shook his head, trailing a finger up and down her bare arm. “my parents kinda dismissed it like it wasn’t happening. i think they didn’t want to stir things within the family, even when the fuckers took it too far one day and caused this." he paused, voiced tinged with bitterness. "they held me down and threatened me with razor blades, and one of 'em accidentally slipped."

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, not knowing quite else to say, and then rolled over onto her side to face him.

“it’s alright, i’m over it,” toji mumbled, returning to lying on his back, his arm behind his head. “but it’s why i've been studying so hard, so i can get the hell out of here. my family lives quite close by, you see.”

“right, and tokyo is about as far away as you can get.”

“yeah, pretty much.”

“and that’s why you didn’t speak to anyone at uni. you knew you'd just be moving on anyways, so there was no point making friends."

“mhm.”

she chewed the inside of her cheek. “so, what made me different?”

toji turned his head to face her, his gaze holding a gentleness she'd never seen before, “because… you’re you,” he said, as if that alone would explain everything.

she looked away, staring up at the sky again. it was silent for some time before she finally asked, “have i ever explained what quantum entanglement is to you before?”

“no, don’t think so, but go on.”

“it’s when two particles are so deeply connected, that it doesn’t matter even if they’re separated. the connection will always be there, and they’ll always affect each other. the distance between them doesn't matter either, because they still belong to each other.”

toji was quiet for a long time, and she wondered if he understood the deeper meaning behind what she was actually trying to say. she had never explicitly said to him that she loved him, and perhaps this was the only way she could say it - in the only way she knew how to. it was too late to turn back now anyway.

suddenly, he pushed his upper body off the ground and sat upwards, his back turned to her. he was breathing fast, too fast, and her heart started to beat frantically.

“toji?” she called out, fear lacing her words, her heart breaking in two at the mere thought of him rejecting all of this this – rejecting her.

toji turned to her, and whispered with glossy eyes, his words almost barely audible, “it’s you. it’s you. it’s you, and i love you.”

with that, he practically fell on top of her, their lips finally meeting in what seemed like an inevitable occurrence. like an eclipse or the death of a star, but none of that mattered. because here she was, with toji fushiguro, and he loved her.

he loved her, as her lips parted for him and their tongues swirled together, and she thought he tasted of vanilla.

she loved him, as he tenderly held the back of her head, and she melted into him like the ice creams they savoured every day.

they loved each other, as their hands dipped underneath their shirts, exploring the dips and valleys of each other's bodies.

the universe was never more perfect than in that very moment.

| Φ |

the very next week, they went on their first official date.

“i’ll swing by your place at eight o’clock, is that okay?” toji asked her over the phone, as she lazed about in her bed in a dream-like, rosy trance.

she hummed, rolling onto her back and kicking her legs in the air. “sure. what are we doing?”

“never you mind your brilliant little head about it. just be ready, okay?”

“hehe, okay.”

“okay, i’ll see you later… i love you.”

“i love you too.”

with that, he ended the call, and she was left counting down the hours until she would see him. she got ready in good time, being careful to shave every bit of hair on her body, using her roommate's products that she’d left behind after moving out. not that she even thought they would be doing something like that, at least not until she had seen a box of condoms under the bathroom sink cabinet. she hadn’t thought of sex since her subpar experience with it during her first year, and had since locked it out of her mind.

and now, it was all she could think about.

just after eight p.m., there was a prompt knock on the door, and she breathed out shakily before opened it. and there was her boy, her toji, holding a bouquet of half a dozen red roses, with a blush gracing his cheeks nearly as colorful as the flowers.

“hey,” he greeted with a handsome, crooked smile, his eyes sweeping up and down her figure. “you look beautiful. i hope you like italian food.”

and all her bundle of nerves dissipated. “yeah,” she replied breathlessly. “i do.”

toji took her to a small restaurant not too far from her dorm, about a fifteen-minute walk away. it was quirky, designed really for students with not much money in their pockets, but it was just perfect. it was natural, the way it was always meant to be. with her sitting there in a dainty summer dress, while toji, in his usual black t-shirt and jeans, looked at her like she was his whole universe.

after they were done with their meal, he’d shooed her away from even trying to pay for the bill, which he paid for in battered notes and loose change. then, they walked hand in hand in the warm summer breeze back to her dorm. she was going on excitedly about how she was looking for internships at various firms in tokyo, and toji was smiling as he listened to her finally start to figure out the answers to her future equation.

though, maybe not just her future.

they finally entered the safe space of her dorm, her roommates absence filling it with a sad eeriness. she looked at him shyly, fiddling with her fingers behind her back, and asked, “you want some tea?”

toji hummed, taking his shoes off at the door. “sure, thanks.”

she was grateful he said yes; it gave her something to do with her hands. she reached upwards to the cabinet to grab their mugs. the two twin beige, somewhat grey, mugs that always sat beside each other. they clinked loudly against the counter, and she flicked the kettle on.

and then, toji’s warm hands were on her hips, and her mind went blank.

“i love you,” he mumbled, his lips soft and wet as they trailed against the curve of her neck. “you’re my star, and i love you.”

he was repeating ‘i love you’ like a mantra he couldn’t quite believe was true, and even a part of her was still amazed that it actually was. she turned to face him, tea well forgotten about, and wrapped her arms around his neck to place her lips between his plush ones. toji hummed into her mouth, his hands sliding down to gently grip her behind, pulling her closer into him.

it was a nebula explosion after that, a stumbling mess of them making their way to her bedroom with their lips interlocked, bodies pressed close together as they ripped their clothes off each other. giggling like naughty children when she struggled to tug her dress off.

“you’re hopeless,” toji groaned playfully, tapping her nose with his finger, before smoothly sliding her dress from her body.

she pouted, crossing her arms over her bare chest. “am not.”

he shushed her softly, pulling her into him once more in a fiery kiss, and they fell gently onto the bed. toji kneaded her breasts, eliciting a moan from her as his mouth traveled slowly from her lips, down to her neck and caressing her collarbone, flicking her hard nipple with his tongue.

“hmm, you feelin good, baby?” toji murmured, looking up at her with hooded lids, forest eyes blazing with desire reserved just for her. “not too much?”

"n-no," she stuttered, fisting his black locks between her fingers, scratching the back of his scalp and making him groan.

toji parted his lips, his breath blowing softly and tickling her nipple, and she shivered and slightly arched her back in anticipation. he teased her with his tongue, licking her hard bud with a featherlight touch, and she gasped, “toji, please.”

with that, he took her nipple in his mouth, steaming hot and so wet as his tongue swirled around it. she moaned loudly, arching herself into his body, and he placed a strong hand on the small of her back to pull her in.

she thought that if toji pulled her in any closer, they would surely melt into each other and become one.

her legs parted of their own accord, and her hips were pure instinct as she ground her slick pussy on his thigh, the ridges of the powerful muscle stimulating her perfectly and sending jolts of pleasure through her core. toji smiled against her nipple, giving it one last suck, let it go with an audible pop! and traveled back up to her face, his lips brushing hers.

“who knew,” he whispered, pressing soft kisses along the bridge of her nose. “that all this would happen from drinking green tea.”

she giggled, and held his face in her hands, bringing his lips back home to hers. “i need you, toji,” she breathed out, breaking their kiss. “can i have you?”

toji smiled, touched his forehead to hers and murmured, “you can always have me, sweetheart. tell me what you want.”

“i want you in me,” she begged, her arousal making her more desperate by the second. “i’m yours, toji. make me yours.”

he snapped.

his lips captured hers once more in a searing kiss so molten hot, she was sure she would burn and be consumed by his fire. toji’s hands moved down to himself, freeing his hard cock from his boxers with a tiny slap noise as it hit against her lower stomach. he pressed his hips into her and settled in between her legs, his hard and flushed dick feeling even hotter against her skin than his lips did.

toji moved his hips, his cock wetting against her folds, the slick sounds lewd and utterly intoxicating, as he pushed further into her with every back and forth motion.

further.

and further.

she moaned loudly as he finally sunk deep into her wet walls, painfully slow and deliciously agonising.

“oh, fuck baby,” toji groaned, his face in her neck, as he buried himself to the hilt. “you’re -ah!- so fuckin beautiful. my beautiful girl.”

her nails dug into his shoulder, and toji bent her legs to fold them, rutting further into her. she whined at the deeper connection, feeling his cock flex inside her. he stilled with their chests pressed tightly together, and she could feel his heart pumping hard.

“t-toji,” she gasped, throwing her head back as she felt his balls against the curve of her ass, the tip of his dick rubbing against that spongy spot that made her see stars behind her eyelids.

he started shallowly thrusting, deliberately slow, holding her head so lovingly she felt she was going to burst. this was heaven, she thought, toji was heaven – her phi. the golden ratio, found in all remarkable and beautiful things on the planet. all her life, all the combinations of numbers, formulas, and sequences had to have been carefully calculated to lead up to him, to this moment.

toji sucked and kissed just below her ear, his muscled thighs flexing as he increased the pace just a fraction, and she clenched around him as she felt the veins of his cock rubbing exquisitely inside her. she tightly squeezed his bicep as the sounds of her squelching pussy and slapping of their bodies filled the room, and the smell of sex and toji filled her nose.

“look at us,” he cooed, stroking her cheek. “makin such a mess on your bed.”

she looked down to the interconnected bodies, a ring of white cream at the base of toji’s cock pumping in and out of her, dripping down onto a damp spot on the bedsheets underneath them. his toned abs had a thin sheen of sweat, and they flexed and rippled as he really started to pound into her. her pussy clenched around him again at the thought of him chasing his pleasure high from her body. she kissed him fervently, and he moaned into her mouth. toji’s balls were tightening, and her orgasm was exponentially building, like the pressure of boiling water molecules hitting the walls of a sealed container.

“let go, baby” toji murmured huskily, his hips snapping at an even faster pace. “let go.”

and she did, throwing her head back and almost screaming as her legs shook violently.

a supernova imploded somewhere at the other end of a distant universe. stars flew across the blackness behind her squeezed-shut eyelids, leaving behind a glittering trail of stardust. toji groaned into her neck, and she felt hot ropes of his cum spurt against her walls, his legs the only thing powering his body through his high.

she wrapped her arms around his neck as he stilled, half-hard cock still plugged inside her, panting into each other as their shared sweat made them stick to each other.

“i love you,” toji whispered, full of reverence and life.

she kissed him softly, rubbing their noses together. “i love you too.”

| Φ |

it was early july now; their results had been released, and graduations were finally right around the corner.

“you should go toji!” she exclaimed, cupping her mug of lukewarm tea with both hands, watching intently from the sofa as he did some stretches. “you’ve worked so hard for this.”

he grunted, but from effort or annoyance, she didn’t know. “i can’t be bothered, seriously, and i’m not interested in standing on a stage and be the only person without parents cheering them on.”

she didn’t press it further, casting one last longing look at his muscles rippling as he stretched, and resumed looking through internship advertisements on her laptop. they had settled into an oddly domestic routine for the past few weeks. she would work in the cafe during the day, while toji trained at the gym. he would swing by and pick her up as she finished work in the early afternoon, and they would cook dinner and hang around the dorm. the weather was getting far too hot for leisurely walks during the day, so they had mostly passed that time making love and talking about everything and nothing.

toji kissed the top of her head, squatting behind her and clearly finished with his stretches, his eyes skimming over the current tab open on her laptop. “still nothin, baby?”

she sighed, rubbing his hand that was gently massaging her shoulder. “no.”

“you’ll find something, don’t worry. it’ll happen. let’s just focus on celebrating your graduation next week.”

her graduation.

she still couldn’t believe it. next week, she would be graduating, and the week after that, saying goodbye to her accommodation – her home – for the last three years of her life. saying farewell to her manager and the little cafe that had been so good to her, and not just because it had brought her and toji together. the stress was mounting to find something, anything, in tokyo, because she refused to even entertain the idea of going backwards and returning home.

and because she absolutely could not bear to be so far away from toji either, the thought alone was soul-crushing.

she heard the shower faucet running in the bathroom, and a wave of loneliness hit her. why exactly, she wasn’t sure, but she chased after toji into the bathroom.

he stared as she burst in, brow raised in startled confusion as soap suds ran down his face and back. “what? you find somethin?”

clothes be damned, she stepped into the shower and kissed him with all the energy and emotion she could muster. toji was taken aback for a second, hesitatingly circling his arms around her, and then giving into her.

she then decided; she would rather her body combust, and all her atoms disperse into the atmosphere before even trying to live without toji fushiguro.

| Φ |

it was the night before her graduation, and she was a nervous wreck.

“oh, toji,” she gushed, dipping the razor she was holding into a bowl of soapy water and giving it a little shake. “i hate getting up in front of people. i might just not go. it doesn’t really matter anyway, does it?”

toji hummed, brows furrowed at her, but remained unable to respond unless he wanted to get soap in his mouth. she flicked the excess water from the razor and carefully shaved underneath toji’s chin. he’d really let his stubble grow out, and since he was adamant about attending her graduation, it meant that the scruff would just have to go.

“nugh- y’re goin,” toji mumbled through pursed lips. “y’re too shmart t'not go.”

“and you’re too smart to have missed yours, but here we are,” she retorted, her tongue poking out from the side of her lip in concentration. “now stop talking, or you’ll get cut.”

toji grumbled and huffed from his nose, sending a soap sud flying onto her bare arm, and he snorted in amusement. she was sat on top of the kitchen counter next to the sink, with toji standing in between her legs, his hands kneading her plush thighs every so often. she was deep in thought, going through her mental checklist of everything she needed to prepare for tomorrow morning.

her light green kimono for the ceremony was already laid out on her roommate's old bed, zori shoes and tabi socks neatly placed beside it. but her hair pins and accessories still needed to be picked out, and she hadn’t even decided on a-

“ow, fuck!”

she snapped out of her thoughts as toji hissed in pain, ruby-red pearls of blood already blooming from his lip.

oh no…

please god, no...

she’d cut his scar, reopening the top layer of delicate flesh.

“toji! fuck, i’m sorry,” she panicked, as he pulled away from her in a flash, his fingers pressing down on his lip. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to!

she slid off the counter, immediately trying to go over and help him, but toji practically growled, “don’t fucking touch me.”

her body froze, a cold shock of dread spreading from her head straight down to her stomach where it pooled uncomfortably. “toji?” she called out, her heart cracking and lip quivering. “it’s me. it’s only me.”

she’d never seen him like this before, backed up against the wall like an injured animal, his green eyes widened, breathing quickened, and nostrils flared, as if he was about to lash out at anything and everything. he met her worried gaze, and there was nothing but coldness and emptiness. there was no trace of the boy she knew and loved. “oh, toji. please,” she begged, fat droplets of tears running down the apples of her cheeks. "let me help you."

toji madly scrambled away, grabbing his shoes, and was out the door as if he’d never been there to begin with.

| Φ |

toji never came home last night.

she’d fallen asleep on the sofa, after calling him numerous times with no answer, waiting for him to walk back through the door until she couldn’t possibly keep her eyes open any longer. when she woke up groggily, her eyes still heavy from sleep and crying, she went about the arduous task of getting herself ready for graduation.

she hoped, no, prayed to the angels solving her equation to apply a magic formula that would bring toji back to her. she had to believe he would show up to the ceremony; he just had to show. she didn’t even want to think about trying to calculate for the probability of him not showing up. the day past in a hazy, slow blur of camera flashes, ostentatious flower bouquets, and toothy grins of parents and graduates. she played the part perfectly, a walking empty shell of a human, hugging and smiling with her loved ones. when her name was called to receive her diploma, nothing else mattered except trying to catch a glimpse of toji’s face in the audience.

but she couldn’t see him, and a foolish part of her hoped that he was simply standing right at the back, wearing that soft smile she loved so much whenever he looked at her.

she eventually returned back to her dorm in a numb daze, blinking slowly as her eyes swept over her soon-to-be-old home.

there was no trace of toji.

not his black sliders by the door.

not his toothbrush in the holder in the bathroom.

not his canvas bag or dirty gym clothes in the washing basket.

nothing at all.

she collapsed to the floor in a heap, her hands shakily procuring her phone from her clutch purse, and dialled toji’s number.

beep. beep. beep.

“sorry, but the number you have called does not exist. ple-”

she snapped her phone shut, and hoped that her angels could hear the gut-wrenching scream that clawed its way out of her throat and reverberated around the empty walls of the dorm.

| Φ |

the first law of thermodynamics states that energy could never be created or destroyed, only changing from one form to another.

she thought of that as she remained curled into a fetal position on the cold, hard tiles, teeth chattering and the very marrow of her bones frozen solid. her fingernails had dug crescent moons into her palm, so hard she surely must have bled by now, but she didn’t care. her heart was tearing itself apart, a war of muscle and heartstrings against merciless, cruel love clashing inside of her chest.

her energy, what was it? was it inherently love? for perhaps the numbers and greek letters she had puzzled over for hours on end, contemplating all of the universe's workings and mysteries. or was it for toji fushiguro? for the dark-haired boy who had taught to her love something else other than her calculations and green tea. to love life and all the little joys that came along with it, and that she was worth so much more than she gave herself credit for.

if her energy was love, then what was it going to change into?

hate or rage? both? maybe the angels would mercifully apply the catastrophic formula of death instead, proving her equation to be null and false, and her body would dissolve back into dust and atoms. atoms that would find their way back to toji, hovering so closely to him, but never touching him again. would his body know hers, even if he could never hope to see her? would he sense her and smile, and remember the quiet, young love they had once shared?

her teeth clattered loudly, and her arms disappeared into the sleeves of her kimono.

how strange, she thought, that the music was the loudest it had ever been.

scratching of quills.

a splash of ink and a teardrop.

and the scroll was flipped over to a blank side.

| Φ |

©storiesoflilies 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites! i only post on ao3 and tumblr.

[ms-demeanor]

*screaming*

*continued screaming*

Okay. So. My introductory Visual C# class.

The professor for that class was Alice. Alice was the person who spoke in the introductory video and the person who we were supposed to email if we had any issues.

But all of the assignments, lectures, and quizzes were written and delivered by Bob. On the youtube channel "Bob's programming academy." The quizzes included Bob's name, like "if you do X will it return the string ProfessorBob, Professor, Bob, or Professor.Bob?"

This class was really frustrating for me because it was structured in such a way that you could easily pass the class with zero knowledge of the subject - it was totally based on quizzes that you could take an unlimited number of times and we *had* weekly programming assignments but they weren't graded so there was no incentive to do them (and look, if I wanted to teach myself programming with no incentives I could fail for several years to do that on my own, I don't need to pay fifty bucks a unit for that; the reason I am in a *class* and am not self-taught is because I need external motivation. That's why I sought out a class).

Also when there *was* a problem with an instruction that was unclear in one of the videos for the assignments, or if I thought I'd done something correctly that was very much incorrect, it wasn't Alice who had created the instructions, it was Bob - in 2017 no less - and I didn't really feel like I could ask Alice for help with an ungraded assignment that she hadn't written.

So. Now. My Python class.

Today is the first day of class. Professor is Charles.

I go to the mandatory attendance quiz and it is word-for-word the same mandatory attendance quiz as the C# class, down to the final question "what is your personal email address so I can keep in contact with you after the semester?"

I look at the syllabus.

Class grade is based on quizzes. We have assignments but none of them are graded. There's no textbook, just a series of videos from Professor Bob's Programming Academy.

So I'd been toying with staying at this school and trying to take more CS classes instead of going to another school, just to try to keep my records easier to manage, but since it seems like that *ENTIRE DEPARTMENT* is five Professor Bobs in a trenchcoat, I will probably be going somewhere else (and once again trying to force myself to do projects that I already know are *good for me to do* but *useless for the class and a massive time suck*)

I should drop this class. I should drop this class and apply for the other school so that I can start taking classes there in the spring because if I take this class and then go into the object oriented programming class in the spring and it's another professor bob sock puppet and I end up taking twelve units of programming classes where all I learn is how to google answers in a short time frame (something I already know how to do thanks) I am going to fucking lose it.

Also, again: I have a Bachelor's Degree. I spent five years at a community college when I was getting that degree. I took probably a dozen online classes starting in 2005 and going until 2011 in the process of getting that degree.

THIS bullshit, this "I'm your professor but actually I'm not and all the materials were created by someone else in the department or came directly from the textbook publisher and there is no writing and there are no assignments everything is multiple choice quizzes that are automatically graded" is *dogshit.*

This is NOT how online classes worked back in my day, not even online math classes, and as much as I know adjuncts are getting fucked over by academia in general, this isn't something that these professors should be getting paid as much as they are to do. Alice checked whether or not students turned in a hello world assignment and gave a pass/fail grades for three discussion boards that were responses to youtube videos. Nothing else in the class required her input. If this is the level of instruction that students are getting then the class is already automated and the students shouldn't have to pay for it.

This is crap. This is an incredible level of crap.

[sundew199]

Times Two

a/n: good lord this is long and filthy. If you prefer to read it on AO3, it'll be linked. I've also never written a threesome before and tried my best, hopefully it isn't too horrible :)

words: 8,180

tags: Reiner x Jean x F!reader, rough sex, rough oral sex, Eiffel tower position, slight panty kink (Reiner), cum eating, Reiner and Jean are Bisexual, College AU, Reijean if you pay attention or care lol, pet names

What was it about Reiner and Jean that had you constantly glued to their hips? If you’re friends were to ask they’d say it was a double crush you were denying. If you asked your family their answers would vary from underlying crush, to enjoying being the center of attention or a close friendship. You personally didn’t think you were attached to their hips at first, but the more people started to whisper and theorize, you started to ask yourself the question. In reality, Reiner and Jean were your closest and longest friends, surviving multiple friend groups and growing up. You met Reiner in grade school, sat next to him on the first day of fourth grade and throughout the whole year due to the teacher’s assigned seating. The two of you might as well have been siblings, walking home together, eating dinner and playing at each other's house, even his mom and your parents were close after a while. Jean entered the scene later, seventh grade to be exact when he transferred mid year and as luck would have it the three of you shared almost all classes together. Reiner was the one who sought out Jean’s friendship and you became friends by proxy and from then on all the way to college the three of you were tight knit. 

Attending the same university is what you think further solidified the glue between the three of you, swearing to everyone it wasn’t intentional to attend the same university together. Some believed you and others didn’t, but you really didn’t care. Thankfully rumors spreading about you being in a three way relationship with them ended going to college, high school was rampant. You’d admit that it did bother you, because why couldn’t you be really good friends with two guys? Why did everyone have to make it seem the other way around? Reiner and Jean never hesitated to defend your honor against the rumors, landing themselves in suspension once or twice when defending you turned physical. Even when you tried to blame yourself, they never allowed it. 

Now when people questioned what the true nature of your friendship was with them, you’d play into the bit and come up with wildly different answers on how the dynamics of the relationship worked. Reiner and Jean both got a kick out of it as did you. 

Junior year of college is what changed things for the three of you. Since you couldn’t room with them in the dorms since they were guys, all three of you decided to rent a condo off campus. You’d spent almost all your life with both of them so there wasn’t any harm in living with them, besides all three of you were just friends. 

Towards the end of the first semester of junior year already and finals quickly approaching, you were buried in your books, studying like a madman to keep your GPA around or above a 3.5, needing the best possible grades to earn the degree you were working towards. Jean and Reiner had it easy in your mind, ashy haired man working towards a degree in Art History and the blonde meathead shooting towards that finance degree. In hindsight, they didn’t have it much easier than you, but they were also stupidly smart in their own respective studies. You envied them in a sense. 

It was chilly out, keeping two blankets wrapped around you sitting at your desk and scrolling through the notes you took the other day to refresh your mind for the practice test on Monday. As much as you wanted to deny it, you need a mental break from school but wouldn’t allow yourself to take it, not when so much was riding on the line. 

“Hey.” 

Jumping in your chair at the sound of a gruff voice at your bedroom door, blinking and rubbing your eyes from staring at the screen for too long. Swiveling to face whichever one of them it was, you wrapped the blanket around you tightly. 

“Yea.” 

“Are you still planning on watching the season premier of the show later?” Reiner asked, tapping his knuckles on your doorframe and leaning into it. Your eyes refused to focus on his face and instead on the bulging bicep through the fabric of the long sleeve shirt he wore. Since when were his arms that big? I mean fuck you knew he worked out but you’d never noticed how ripped his arms alone were. 

“Yeah if I finish going through my notes.” 

Reiner scoffed, rolling his eyes and approaching you, reaching over you to slam the laptop shut, deciding for you if you were going to look over the rest of your notes or not. 

“Reiner-” 

“You’ve been holed up in here for almost two days. I know finals are important but I’ll bet your brain is fried to a crisp.” Defiantly declaring, crossing those beefy ass arms over his chest and waiting for you to give in like he knew you would. 

Whatever. The premier of the new season of the show the three of you watched would only be an hour, and then you could return to forcing yourself to absorb as much information as possible. Sighing dramatically for effect and throwing the blankets off of yourself, you uncross your stupidly numb legs and ignore the sharp tingles running up from your foot as you stride over to the small closet to put on a sweatshirt. Reiner didn’t bother leaving as you tossed your t-shirt and bra from where you stood partially out of view to pull the sweatshirt over your head. 

“Jean is picking up food and drinks - is that my sweatshirt that I haven’t been able to find?” Sounding hurt and accusatory as you brushed past him out of your room, looking back to nod with a smile, because yes it was his and it was his fault for mixing it in with your laundry. He muttered down the small hallway to the main area of the condo all three of you shared, pinching your shoulder when he purposely knocked past you, hearing the muttering replaced with chuckles. 

One of them had taken the liberty to find all the blankets that were supposed to already be in the living room and tossed them all over the couch, setting up for the three of you to comfortably watch the premier. You could hear Reiner in the kitchen that flowed into the open concept living room, making a whole bunch of unnecessary noise in trying to find whatever it was. If you were being honest, living with your closest friends was turning into living with siblings, getting into pointless arguments and doing everything to get on each other's nerves. Would you change it to live with a regular roommate that could be a hit or miss in how well you got alone? Hell no. 

Finding a spot on the couch while waiting for Jean, you decided to look through all the notifications you missed while studying for hours. Some of your classmates were checking in, or asking questions about the notes, contemplating on whether you should respond. They could wait, Reiner was probably right when he said your brain was fried at this point. Checking social media quickly turned into envy seeing some of your other friends enjoying the holiday break, done with their finals and celebrating by jumping from parties to bars or wherever they sold cheap alcohol. If only you were done with finals so you could actually destress, but that just wasn’t in the cards. 

Jean came through the door after barreling through it, hands full with food and drinks. From the strong aroma, you knew he went to go get wings, always choosing the messiest option somehow. 

“Damn out of your room finally? Swore you died or something.” Commenting with a smirk as he passed by the couch to get to the kitchen where Reiner was snickering at his comment. Rolling your eyes instead of lashing back, you joined them in the kitchen to plate some of the food and momentarily forget about the weight of finals. 

“Please tell me you didn’t just get beer.” Approaching the center island of the kitchen, noticing the familiar white box in one of the bags that happened to be Jean and Reiner’s preferred drink of choice. If they wanted to give you a break, they would’ve at least gotten drinks that didn’t take four or five to actually start to feel the buzz. 

“No, I got you those lemonade drinks.” 

Ugh you could kiss him. As much as you loved Jean as a friend he had a tendency to forget to grab whatever you needed when he went out, always having to send you or Reiner back to the store to go grab it. Taking the glass bottle and popping the lid, the tingling fizzy drink left a slight burn as it went down your throat, just the right amount for you to down an entire six pack in a night and not regret your life choices in the morning. 

“Shows about to start.” Reiner announced after checking his phone, taking his plate with him to the couch. You and Jean did the same, grabbing the drinks as well to keep from having to get up and get another if you wanted. 

Sitting next to Reiner at a reasonable distance, Jean plopped down next to you and ended up sandwiching you between them. They were doing the absolute most to work every single one of your nerves, but you didn’t want to lash out again like you did earlier this week when one of them accidently ate your leftovers in the fridge. Tucking your feet under you as Reiner found the streaming service the show was premiering on, you actually didn’t mind being squished between them, their combined body heat doing more than the blanket over your lap would warm you up. 

The host for the show gave a quick recap of last season, breaking down the drama and how it might affect this season. This dating competition game that you had started watching out of boredom surprisingly took the guys interest, somehow watching it with you when it was on to turning into offense when you’d watch the latest episode without them. Despite the show being corny and scripted and at times unbearable to watch, it was nice to do something like this with them. 

“I swear to god if Jodi and that dick Preston aren’t broken up I might not watch the show anymore.” 

Jean hummed in agreement with Reiner, guzzling down the rest of his first beer and reaching for another. “I know, he’s so fucking annoying and Jodi is either dumb or desperate if she hasn’t left him yet.” 

Biting back a laugh as you took a bite of one of the wings, you looked at both of them to see they were being completely serious, so engrossed in this stupid show. The premise of this variant of a dating show was two people are paired up as a couple in the beginning and go through a series of challenges to see if they’re right for each other. Couples who continuously didn’t work together could get voted off or petition to break up with their partner. The downside was if there wasn’t another couple trying to split, you could be left without a partner and voted off, ya know all those stupid dating show rules that make you question why anyone would sign up to do it. 

Finally beginning to destress while nursing your vodka infused lemonade, it all went to shit when the couple you were rooting for petitioned to split. 

“Oh my god no! Why?! They were so good together!” Exclaiming and throwing your arms up, throwing your head back into the couch and pouting like a child. 

“Man that sucks, but he did fuck Serena last season so I’d leave him to.” Reiner commented, grabbing your attention even more, failing to recall that important detail. 

“Really?” 

“Oh yeah, they were getting each other off in that hallway, remember? Moaning so loud it's a shocker no one heard them.” Jean answered, laughing a little as he recalled the scene you’d clearly missed. 

“Yea! She was standing there going ‘oh josh faster! I'm going to cum, oh my god I’m so close!’” Reiner took it upon himself to imitate the moans one of the contestants were making, and you wouldn’t have felt as uncomfortable if it wasn't for that throaty laugh he let out there at the end, turning your cheeks flush with pink and throwing back the rest of your drink to hide it. Jean found Reiner’s imitation hilarious, laughing a bit harder than you’d imagine he would if he wasn’t finishing his second beer already, grabbing another and throwing his arm behind the couch and slouching, lifting his hips in the air trying to get comfortable. 

Suddenly the short commercial playing on screen was so interesting, taking small sips of the second bottle of lemonade and trying to drown out the sounds of their talking over you. Studying your ass off for the last couple of months left you little to no time to snag yourself a quick one night stand. You’d been able to ignore the urges and pour everything into your notes and reviews, but fuck it was harder than you expected. Espescially when you pick up on conversations between Reiner and Jean on their nights out, the girls they sometimes went home with and wishing you were getting fucked into the next semester. When all three of you moved in here, everyone agreed not to bring anyone home, unless clearing it with the other two that they’d be gone for the night. It hadn’t happen yet (that you were aware of) and you were glad, unsure how you’d feel knowing one of your best friends was getting their dick wet and having to listen to it. 

Regular programming returned and tried as you did to focus on what was unfolding, you just couldn’t. Replaying Reiner’s laugh in your head and Jean’s hip motion, turning you warm all over and settling something funny yet familiar in your abdomen. You wouldn’t lie and say you haven’t though about fucking one of them, mostly they were just passing thoughts and that was it, but now? Jesus fucking christ your head was a mess. This what you get for turning down outings with other friends to study, leaving you hornier than a motherfucker. It’d be fine, the show only had about thirty minutes left and then you could go back to studying and rub one out if you really needed to. 

“I wonder why there aren’t any same sex couples? I’d like to see how that plays out.” Jean’s words had a slight slur to them as he spoke, now reclined completely with his feet propped up on the coffee table. 

“Wasn’t there one last season?” Reiner asked, in a similar position as Jean, one arm behind his head and his half drank beer between his thighs. 

“Mm no, I think Zach and Marco made out on a dare but they weren’t a couple.” Giving them an answer after searching through your brain for that jaw dropping scene from last season that had everyone talking about on social media.

“Oh yea I remember that, that was hot.” Jean slurred, heat dripping in his words and causing you to raise an eyebrow. Maybe it was because he was drunk, that was what you told yourself instead of questioning how your friend really felt about that scene unfolding.  

Every little movement either of them did drew your attention, watching as Reiner drank the last of his beer, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, only to be pulled away by Jean’s groans as he adjusted on the couch. They weren’t doing it on purpose and you were tipsy so that explained the clenching of your thighs to ease the throb, not because you were getting turned on by them. 

A preview of next week's episode played at the end of the premier, taking the liberty to watch it before getting up and heading back to your room to get your mind out of the gutter. But as you walked away, Reiner grabbed your wrist, pulling you back towards him lazily. 

“Leaving already?” 

“I said I’d watch the premier with you guys and then study before going to bed.” Ignoring how large his hand looked around your wrist and how warm it was on your skin, taking in a sharp breath. 

“It’s Friday though.” The blonde whined, the slight inebriation turning him a bit sappy. 

“Play a game of cards with us and then go, please.” Jean chimed in, fluttering those hazel eyes at you, begging to spend just a little more time together. 

Not giving it much thought, you let out a sigh and walked to the media console below where the T.V hung on the wall to grab the deck of cards. Surely there was a quick game the three of you could play that wouldn’t send your mind further into the gutter or put you in a compromising situation. Jean managed to get up and grab some water for everyone, tossing one to you and Reiner as he sat down on the floor behind the coffee table, leaning back into the couch for support. 

“One round of B.S, alright?” Shuffling the cards between your hands and the table, repeatedly doing so that way everyone played fairly. 

“Lame but alright.” Jean agreed, chugging some of the water and sharing a look with Reiner that you didn’t understand and didn’t care to acknowledge. 

Dividing the entire deck between the three of you, now waiting for one of them to put down the ace of spades to begin the game. Reiner ended up having it and motioned towards you to go next. This game used to be a staple for you guys, playing every chance you got and getting into heated arguments whenever someone suspected someone else of putting down the incorrect card. 

The game went quietly in the beginning, until you picked up on Jean and Reiner putting down cards that they ‘supposedly’ had, smiling behind your deck every time they called out cards that were in your deck, the only thing keeping you from calling them out was waiting until the deck got a little thicker. 

“Two eights.” Reiner called out, looking at you to go next. 

“Bullshit.” 

“Ha! You sure? Cause I promise you I just put down two eights.” Reiner laughed, encouraging you to rethink your decision but also egging you on to check in hopes of watching you take the entire deck. 

“Check it.” Jean motivated from beside you, pushing his shoulder with yours. Reiner still had that confident look on his face which did end up making you regret your call out a bit, second guessing if you were right to call his bluff. No matter what since you called B.S, you had to check and you were going to livid if it actually was two eights. 

Reaching forward and thumbing apart the top two cards from the rest of the deck, you snuck a peak and saw what you didn’t want to see; two eights. 

“Nevermind, I take it back.” Knowing that wasn’t how the game worked but hoping you could worm your way out of it. 

“Uh uh, check.” Reiner insisted while standing up, coming to lean over you from behind, taking your arm and trying to force you to check the first two cards so the entire deck would go to you. Doing everything to resist, laughing as the man behind you snarled and laughed in your ear, still trying to force you to check with his hand over yours. Jean was leaning over to help, slipping an arm under the one that held your deck in the other hand, sandwiching you between them for the second time that night. 

“Just check, it’s okay if you’re a loser this round.” The taller of the two sneered in your other ear, brushing his lips over the shell and letting out a breathy laugh. You instantly shivered and became much more aware of your position, Reiner pressed into you from behind and Jean from the side. Heat rose in your entire body, refusing to let yourself enjoy the firm muscular bodies rubbing against yours. 

Resistance faltered completely as you got caught up in the overwhelming thoughts and sensations coursing through you, Reiner succeeding in getting your hand to flip over the top three cards, chuckling directly into ear. 

“Now was that so hard?” So close to the side of your face, you couldn’t help but turn and meet him. His eyes were still a bit hazy from the alcohol but not enough for you to feel guilty for leaning in and pressing your lips to his. 

Reiner gasped softly, giving into the feel of your soft plush lips on his and parting them when he felt yours begin to. You had absolutely no explanation for what spurred you to lean in and kiss what you considered your best friend, but you did and fuck did it feel nice. Reiner’s lips were surprisingly soft and the lingering remnants of his beer on his tongue kept you latched to his mouth. 

Behind you, Jean watched intrigued, though not entirely shocked. He would feel left out if he weren’t enjoying his two best friends making out on the floor of the living room, noticing how his sweat pants turned a little tighter. He smirked when Reiner peeked an eye open, a silent invitation to join in while pulling away from you. Jean wasted no time grabbing you by the back of your neck and slotting his lips into yours, sighing delightfully and wasting no time moving them with his. 

There wasn’t enough time for you to process that it was Jean you were kissing now, your other best friend, letting out a small moan when his tongue dipped into your mouth. He was slightly more insistent than Reiner was, moving faster and with a purpose but still reeling you in as your mouths stayed locked together. 

Coming up for air, not even wanting to think about what had just happened, you stood quickly. 

“C’mon,” Nodding towards what you think was Reiner’s room, knowing that if you gave yourself a moment to consider what you were about to do, you’d back out and hole yourself away in your room and never speak of this again. 

Both of them were quick to follow, smiling victoriously behind you. The door shut and you sat on the edge of Reiner’s bed, looking at both of them and debating on how this should continue to carry out. Consequences could come later, right now you’d gotten a taste of what you’d been actively avoiding for the sake of a GPA and needing so much more. 

“However you want to do this, I’m down.” Voicing your consent and ultimately putting all of your trust in both of them. You would admit this could be smoother sailing since you’d known both of them since childhood basically, but just not like that. There wouldn’t be much need to worry about keeping them in check like you would if it were someone you went home from the bar with and part of that excited you. 

Out of the two of them, Jean approached first, standing between your legs and grabbing your face and kissing you again. Slowly as your mouths returned to motions from minutes ago, the taller man began to push you back into the bed, holding himself above you with his hands beside your head. The bed dipped in the sudden weight of another person, knowing it was Reiner. 

Slender hands slipped under your sweatshirt, roaming around your skin and littering it with goosebumps. You gasped when the lith fingers brushed the underside of your breast, remembering you weren’t wearing a bra. Jean chuckled into your lips, humming as he dared to cup the flesh, sighing pleasantly when brushing his thumb over your nipple. 

Abruptly his mouth left yours, leaving you dazed and sitting up to search for his lips, only to see hands that weren’t Jean’s pulling his shirt off. Reiner stood on his knees just behind your head, tossing the shirt to the other side of the room and giving a playful smack to Jean’s pectoral. 

“Sharing is caring by the way.” The blonde rumbled behind you, scolding Jean and pinching his nipple teasingly, hearing Jean hiss softly before Reiner slipped his arms under your armpits and hauling you to face him. He was in nothing but his boxer briefs, the faint imprint of his half hard cock catching your eyes and widening at how big it looked beneath the fabric. Fuck you hadn’t even thought about how big either of them were, both impressively fit and no doubt having a dick to match the rigid muscles rippling over their bodies. 

Falling with Reiner as he leaned back on the bed, you threw your legs over his torso and smashed your mouth to his, feeling another set of hands from behind you lift the hem of your sweatshirt until you were bare from the waist up. The man below you groaned when you sat up on his abdomen, running his hand across your stomach. Acquainted hands from earlier snakes around to your chest, Jean cupping both of your tits and softly kissing down your neck while circling his thumbs over your nipples. 

“Fuck,” Reiner breathed from below, raising his hips as he watched Jean tease and stimulate your nipples in to pert buds. Mindlessly, you began to scoot down until you came in contact with the bulge beneath Reiner’s boxers, grinding in time with Jean’s circling thumbs. The blonde groaned again, bringing his hands to your hips and encouraging you. 

“Eager huh?” A voice teased, pinching both nipples harshly and sucking the side of your neck. You couldn’t think of anything but the rising heat in your body, the teasing from Jean and the quieted groans from Reiner below. Maybe you were stupid for never giving this a shot before, both seemed eager and willing to please and show you what a good time looked like. 

“Are these my sweat pants?” Jean asked, pulling off of your neck and slipping one of his hands to the waistband of said sweats, snapping the band against your skin. 

“Mhm.” Unable to give any other answer as Reiner started rolling his hips up to yours, matching the roll of your own. Wasn’t intentional to wear either of their clothes but seeing how it looked now only made you more desperate for them and if that got you what you wanted, then where was the harm. Reiner began to tug at the waistband, sitting up on his elbows after hearing the short conversation between you and Jean, aiding him by lifting your hips and no longer straddling his waist. 

Enough teasing, you decided, pulling down Reiner’s boxer briefs after he tossed the sweats aside, gripping the base and watching his face contort at the contact. He was thick from the base up, intimidating you from the sight and size alone. Jean chuckled, moving to lay beside his friend, cupping the side of his face and hovering above his lips. Interesting to see there was no resistance from Reiner when their lips slipped together, craning to reach the ashy haired man like he was desperate for his taste. Smirking while the two of them made out, you flattened your tongue over the top of Reiner’s cockhead, fluttering your eyes at the delicious groan that Jean swallowed from Reiner. It’d take some working up to taking his dick all the way down, girthy enough to know your jaw would ache when it was all said and done. 

Sucking around the head and moaning when Reiner’s hand reached down to grip Jean’s dick still shielded by the fabric of his briefs, seeing his hand move up and down. Had they done this before? You couldn't help but wonder the more you took Reiner’s dick down seeing how they were both so comfortable with each other’s touch, and the slight jealousy of being left out. Jean’s hip rutted into Reiner’s hand, breaking their make out session to finally pull his briefs off and give you a look at what he was packing as well. It was slightly longer than Reiner’s, by an inch or two but not as thick, pausing your bobbing head to stare between his legs. 

“I think she likes it.” Reiner hissed, bringing a hand to your head, pushing you further down his dick and letting his head fall back when the tip brushed the back of your throat. 

“Haven’t met anyone who hasn’t.” Jean quipped back, moving off the bed and coming to stand behind you. You watched Reiner’s eyes follow him, a sly smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. Warm hands massaged your ass cheeks, gasping around the cock still deep in your throat when two fingers swiped over your clothed pussy. 

“Fucking soaked.” He commented behind you, Reiner groaning approvingly as he still guided your head up and down on his dick. Jean then pulled your panties down, tossing them over to Reiner who shamelessly brought them to his nose, listening to him mutter a few words and pull you off of his dick to give you a break. Jean then took to spreading you apart, licking a strip from your clit to your entrance, squeaking out a moan and falling forward onto Reiner’s abdomen. The blonde pulled you forward until your tits dangled in his face, taking one into his mouth. 

“Holy shit-” Gasping at the double stimulation, forgetting all shame and grinding back into Jean’s face, who appreciated the gesture with a firm slap to one ass cheek, dipping his tongue inside you, slurping obnoxiously. You were shaking, struggling to hold yourself up, moaning like the whore you felt like. Reiner managed to keep you steady above him, holding you so he could bite and suck at your over sensitive nipples. You knew both of them were experienced but fuck, they were intent on making it impossible to make any future hookups impossible to enjoy, hoping this wouldn’t be a one time thing. 

Reiner suddenly bit down hard on your nipple, pulling off it with a tug and causing you to wince at the slight pain. Unsure of what would cause him to do that, you turned around to see one of Jean’s hands between your bodies, languidly stroking the blonde’s spit coated dick. This wasn’t exactly the right time to question the nature of your two friends' relationship, but the way Reiner was moaning and struggling to return to the task at hand, it continuously flashed in the back of your head. Jean was still buried in your pussy while simultaneously jacking Reiner off, pressing your forehead to Reiner’s and practically synchronizing your moans. 

“Fuck, have you two done this before?” asking the man below you, watching his slow nod come before his answer. 

“Yea - fuck - every once in a while.” panting as his hips grinded into Jean’s hand, and sitting up enough to where he could pry the man away, seconds away from cumming. 

Jean took the hint, also pulling away from your pussy and stroking it affectionately. You winced at the final slap he gave to your ass, coming back to lay beside Reiner, taking the side of his face and turning it towards him. 

“Pussy tastes fuckin’ devine.” 

“Oh yea?” Bolding swiping his tongue over Jean’s bottom lip, speaking as if you weren’t there listening to them talk. You watched as they kissed again, yearning for the combined taste and chastising yourself for not noticing the signs for whatever they had going on sooner. 

“Think I need a better taste for myself, lay down for me baby.” Reiner instructed, already moving to get out from under you. Jean chuckled deviously, pecking the side of your mouth and moving to the very back of the bed, reclining against the headboard, patting his inner thigh. Reiner immediately knew what he was wanting and waited until you were sitting between the other man’s legs to center him between yours. 

“Keep’em spread for me.” Glancing up to the other man, running his palms over your inner thighs. 

You were already so sensitive from Jean eating you out minutes ago, you were afraid you weren’t going to last much longer. Nevertheless, you let Jean hook your legs over his and watched on baited breath as the blonde examined your slick and puffy folds. 

“Fuck, such a pretty pussy.” His voice so airy, breathing over your cunt prior to latching onto your clit. Your back arched off of Jean’s chest, whining at the intentionally harsh sucks. The man behind you held you down with an arm around your chest, chuckling right beside your ear. Reiner looked up, smiled against your tingling flesh and flicked his tongue over your clit while he continued to suck. 

Jesus fucking christ, it was too much, you were already starting to feel yourself cum when Jean’s hand tipped your head back. “Don’t cum, not yet gorgeous.” 

“Jean, I can’t.” Mewling pathetically, feeling the beginnings of tears at your waterline from the overstimulation. 

“Sure you can.” Giving a slow grind of his dick on your lower back, the promise of a silent reward if you did what you were told. Keeping your head thrown back on his shoulder you shamelessly moaned and whimpered as Reiner alternated between sucks and swirls of his tongue, listening to his chuckles as you writhed against Jean. He finally pulled away only to shove his middle and ring finger inside, pulling you too look at him by your chin as he sat on his knees between your legs and furiously fingered you. 

“Fuck look at you, so pretty baby.” He cooed with a smirk, running along the spongy part deep inside of you and giving a small tilt of his head, knowing you would take it as your indicator to cum. 

You came on a broken cry, arched off Jean’s chest and pulsating around Reiner’s fingers. Both of them laughed endearingly at their combined success at getting you to come. Reiner pulled his fingers out, locked his eyes with yours and sucked the two digits clean. Jean was the one who moaned behind you at the act, dick still grinding into your lower back subtly. 

“Think you’re okay to take one of us?” One of them asked, still delirious from your orgasm to tell who was asking. You gave a nod and sat forward, not really caring how but still feeling the ache in your cunt for more. 

“Alright hands and knees then princess.” It was Jean instructing, hearing his voice vibrate in his chest that was still pressed to your back. 

On shaky legs you sat on your knees, watching them move around as you positioned yourself on all fours. Reiner was still behind you, massaging your ass cheeks and letting out huffs of appreciation at your puffy wet folds, his and Jean’s handy work. Jean sat on his knees in front of your face, running a loose fist over his angry cock, using the pre-cum leaking from the slit to lubricate his motions. 

“If it’s too much, pinch my thigh or kick the brute behind you.” Jean swooned, holding your head up to look at him as he spoke, stroking his thumb over your bottom lip, watching the anticipation blaze in his irises. 

“We’ll take care of you angel,” Reiner pressed himself into your back, lips brushing against the shell of your ear and sending a shiver down your spine. All you could do was nod, witness the shared glance between both of them and wait on pins and needles. 

The fat head of Reiner’s cock started to slide between your folds teasingly, wetting the tip and making it hard to focus on your gentle kisses you were giving to Jean’s. It was good they were both aware of their size and knew they couldn’t just shove themselves in disregarding you completely, but holy shit, if your weeping cunt wasn’t enough to entice Reiner to slip inside you already then you weren’t sure what will. 

A hand held your jaw when you enclosed your lips around the tip, sucking long and slow, tasting the salty pre that continuously leaked out. Jean’s head was thrown back, the defined muscles cascading over his body clenching the more you took in his cock more. You could hear Reiner chuckle on a low breath, pushing just the tip inside of you and giving a full body shutter. If their goal was to drive you insane with their pace, it was working, taking things into your own hands and pushing your hips back into Reiner until you were flush to his pelvis. 

He choked, dug his fingers into your hip and somewhat growled with the ragged breaths he was taking. It was Jean’s turn to laugh now, the sound so disgustingly seductive you could feel yourself grow wetter around the cock you shoved yourself on. 

“God you’re fucking tight, feels so good.” The blonde breathed out, pulling his hips back nearly all the way, returning the favor by thrusting forward and sending Jean’s cock deeper down your throat. The hand not holding your chin tangled harshly in your hair, looking down with parted lips and hooded eyes at the sight and little reaction you gave. They may have known you all your life but they didn’t know how well you could take dick, letting a small amount of pride surge through you at their astonishment.  

Their rhythm synchronized quickly, settling somewhere in the middle of not too soft and not too rough, letting you adjust to their respective sizes. You knew it wouldn’t last before they abandoned it all and used you to find their pleasure, just from radiating restraint coming off of them, eventually fucking your throat and pussy like you were nothing but a hole to be filled and that thought alone was exciting. 

“Shit, do that again.” Jean breathily exclaimed, enjoying the method of your tongue swirling around his shaft as he plunged in and out of your mouth, tipping your head back with the hand still in your hair. Giving him a hum, you repeated the action, felt your stomach flip in on itself as he moaned prettily. 

There was a slight hitch in breath from the man behind you, faltering in his thrusts and seemingly regaining his composure. Something about Reiner experiencing the same surge of arousal as your were at Jean’s expression and action thickened the lust hanging in the air around you. He didn’t resume his pace like you were expecting him to, but yanked back into focus on Jean tightening his grip in your hair and pistoning his hips forward, fucking your throat with vigor, something snapping inside him. 

“There you go, gorgeous.” Growling, inhaling sharply through his nose. Your eyes were welling up with tears, the ache in your jaw beginning but you didn’t want to stop, not until his cum was trickling down your throat, leaving you no choice but to swallow. Reiner palmed both of your ass cheeks, spreading them far apart and slamming into with the same force Jean was. This sudden switch up had your legs nearly buckling, tears rolling down your cheeks and pathetic whines and whimpers muffled. Your pussy fluttered around Reiner everytime Jean thrusted down your throat, the wet squelching noise turning obscene, your gummy walls sucking the blonde back in over and over, like your pussy craved to be stretched and fucked on his thick cock. 

“Fuck she feels so good, so wet,” Reiner groaned, talking to Jean, again like you weren’t there. 

“Mm, she sucks cock better than you.” Jean groaned back at the mental image his friend was painting, acknowledging your mouth felt just as good as your pussy probably did. 

“Not my fault, you barely give me a chance before trying to get me inside you.” 

Their banter of a conversation sending you into a new wave of arousal, images of their bulky bodies fighting over who would fuck who and never in your life did you think something like that would turn you on. Despite it being your two best friends fueling these fantasizing images, you couldn’t help but want to be in the middle of that from here on out. From the way both of them fucked you, there wasn’t any desire to look for anymore hook-ups, not when the two perfect candidates were right here. 

“Gonna cum princess, be a good girl and swallow it all for me.” A husky voice drawing you back to reality, doing your best to give him a nod and look up at him with doe-like eyes, a trick that worked on just about every guy. 

With a slow drawn out groan, Jean pushed the entirety of his cock into your mouth and down your throat, pressing your nose to the happy trail below his belly button. Hot ropes of cum shot down your throat, feeling him ease up and pull out of your mouth so he wouldn’t accidentally choke you with his cum. He gave you a lopsided smile, wiping away the milky liquid from your bottom lip and the corner of your mouth with his thumb, shuffling over to Reiner who was still fucking your pussy absolutely raw. You could only assume the blonde cleaned off the cum smeared thumb Jean presented him, based on the hiss and brief collision of mouths. 

A heavy palm landed on the center of your back, forcing you off of your elbows holding you up and forming a deep arch in your back. From this angle, Reiner was able to sink so much deeper inside you, splitting you in half on his thick cock, crying out with a moan. 

“Glad I held off, been dying to hear those pretty moans again baby.” He chuckled, putting more of his weight into the hand on your back, forcing you to keep the arch. 

“Fuck Reiner, don’t stop.” Gasping, twisting the bedsheets in a tight fist, the tears welling up in your eyes again. 

“Don’t plan to, sweetheart, I want to see you leaking by the time I’m done.” 

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, unable to stop the constant moans and incoherent noises leaving your lips. Jean had come back into view, partially laying down beside you, keeping your hair out of your eyes and giving you a look of endearing smugness, like watching you getting fucked by Reiner was better than fucking you himself. 

Skin slapping on skin echoed in the bedroom, your body coated in a layer of sweat and your limbs so weak that if it weren’t for Reiner holding you by the hips now, you wouldn’t be able to keep yourself upright. Your spongy walls clenched repeatedly around him after another orgasm, unsure of how many at this point. 

“Doin’ so good, doll.” Jean cooed, pinching the nipple he had been messing with and muffling your broken squeak with a soft kiss, keeping you occupied. Reiner grunted, beginning to break his steady harsh rhythm and fucking into you furiously with abandon. His breathing turned into short gasps, letting out something of a whine, tipping his head back with two final slams of his hips before cumming inside of you. 

A familiar warmth filled your pussy, moaning weakly into Jean’s lips, giving up on holding your position. Reiner pulled out slowly, groaning as he watched a glob of his cum drip from your hole. You collapsed on the bed, forcing yourself to turn over and lay on your back, placing your hands over your eyes to ease the dizziness you were experiencing. 

Just when you thought all the nerve endings in your body were shot, you sprung forward when a flat tongue glided over your folds, seeing Reiner lap up the mess he made between your legs, smirking and moving out of the way so Jean could do the same thing. 

“Fucking filthy.” Muttering at the sight of them both taking turns cleaning you up, your legs twitching and tingling from sensitivity. They both looked at you guiltless, even though you were shaking with overstimulation that didn’t stop you from pressing Jean’s head into your folds, watching as he eagerly lapped at Reiner’s cum. They switched again, Reiner being gentler this time, only running his tongue across your messy slit twice before using his middle finger to shove some of it back in. 

Reiner moves out from between your legs to lay beside you, cradling the side of your face for the sole purpose of giving you a taste of his cum. You were just as shameless, moaning into the kiss and running your hand through his sweaty hair, feeling him smirk against your lips. He pulled away, grabbing Jean by the back of the neck and slotting his lips between his, kissing him rather tenderly. 

With zero strength to make it to the bathroom, let alone your room to grab a change of clothes, Reiner and Jean took the liberty of taking care of you. Both of them pulling on their sweats thrown around the room, Reiner cleaned your inner thighs while Jean went to your room to grab you some underwear after tossing you one of Reiner’s sweatshirts. All three of you situated yourself into Reiner’s king bed, you of course in the middle of them both. There was so point in going back to your room and studying, not when you had several unanswered questions. 

“So how long have you two been dating?” They both froze beside you, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little. 

“We’re not dating, we just fuck occasionally.” Jean answered, Reiner nodding to further reaffirm the statement, but you weren’t buying it. Their chemistry in bed was enough to convince you they’d been hiding a relationship from you. 

“You just fuck? No feelings attached?” 

“There’s obviously feelings when we’ve been friends this long, but we’re not exclusive.” Reiner responded, propping himself up on his elbow and looking in the direction of you and Jean. “We didn’t tell you because there wasn’t anything serious between us.” 

Okay, that made more sense than you were expecting too. But experiencing what you just did created a longing inside of you, one that might’ve been there that you didn’t want to acknowledge before now. Jean and Reiner were your best friends without a doubt, but they were also so much more than that and in order to not ruin the friendship, you shoved that deep down inside of you. 

“But,” Jean’s hands from behind turned you to look towards him. “We’re also not opposed to the idea of you being a part of this situationship.” 

“You’ve talked about this?” Surprised to know this wasn’t a coincidence happening, sounding like they planned this in a way. 

“Of course we have, do you know how long both of us have had a crush on you?” Reiner laughed, sending your mind into a flurry of confusion. They liked you? Like holding affectionate feelings beyond friendship for you? 

“Huh?” 

“Since junior or senior year of high school. We didn’t know we both felt the same way about you until after we had sex for the first time six months ago, agreeing that if it ever came to the point where you chose one of us over the other we would be okay with it.” Jean was speaking now, softly and almost lovingly, sending a blush to your face. 

“And we’ll never ask you to choose, if you want only one of us that’s fine and if you end up wanting both of us, that’s fine too.” Reiner spoke with the same inflection Jean did, softly smiling and looking at you endearingly. 

“I want both of you.” Blurting out without even thinking twice, hearing them laugh. But you knew you would rather have both than just one, it's always been the three of you. 

“Don’t decide now idiot, we’re being serious.” Jean pinched your shoulder with a frustrated grunt, rolling his eyes while Reiner just laughed softly. 

“We can talk about it more tomorrow, it’s late.” Reaching over to turn the lamp off on his bedside table, pulling you down under the comforter into his arms and kissing the top of your head. Jean shuffled behind you, pressing his chest to your back and kissing your cheek. 

For a few moments you refused to close your eyes, trying to break down all the new feelings and emotions you were experiencing, from earlier when you were at their mercy, to the confession from them both. It was in a way exciting, and whatever ended up happening between the three of you, it would work out in the end.

[gavisuntiedboot]

Cherry on Top

Gavi X Physiotherapist! reader (birthday special!)

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: suggestive content!

A/N: I am back once again with more self indulgent fics for my baby boo thang's birthday !!!

~~~

"Doctoraaa! When are you coming home? I'm withering away from boredom and loneliness."

You could practically hear his pout through the phone, imagining him sprawled out on the couch with his feet in the air.

"Gaviraaa I am studying so that I can graduate on time! Or do you want me to keep making a student salary forever?" You held the phone between your ear and your shoulder, still furiously typing away at your sample notes for your advisor.

"What are you even studying? You basically run our whole club's rehab program by yourself. What else do they need to test you on?"

That was actually an excellent question. It was coming up on the two year anniversary since you had become a Barca employee, and you had almost fully taken the reigns. Dr. Gonzalez had checked out, waiting for you to get your degree so that he could finally retire. Nicolas was a good assistant, but was still heavily lacking in his ability to make quick decisions, so he was stuck doing basic PT most of the time. The show was essentially yours to run.

"This last year is testing my leadership ability and teaching skills. When I graduate, I will start running the intern program at the club, and so they have to make sure I can correct staff mistakes."

Your typing was getting progressively louder as you continued angrily editing the note in front of you.

"Take this idiot Aaron. He has not written a single coherent note since he got assigned as my mentoring project. If he were an employee he would have been fired weeks ago. But since this is a "training and learning" opportunity or whatever, I have to fix all his notes and send him the edits so he can learn."

You heard shifting on the other end of the line, and then a soft thud followed by some whispered profanity.

"Pablo please don't injure yourself."

"Maybe it will bring you home faster. Oh no my other ACL!"

Despite his giggle, you went quite on the other side of the line. The day of Pablo's injury had been one of the worst of your life. He had been playing for the national team, so you had no choice but to stare at your TV through glassy eyes, utterly and completely helpless. One of your friends literally had to prevent you from collapsing (though to this day you maintain that it was dehydration, not hysteria). He had called you from the sideline, and the pain in his voice just made you break further.

"I need you."

You had been waiting at the airport to receive him, official team gear on in an attempt to distract fans from the fact that you were fully embracing him and crying into his shoulder. You had almost gone insane in the lead up to his surgery, triple checking the credentials of everyone involved. You stayed by his bed for his entire stay, spending most days and night making sure he wore his brace and didn't make any stupid decisions. It was on one of these nights, when you were once again complaining about not having your favorite undereye cream at his house, that he once again asked you his favorite question.

"Why don't you just move in?"

As usual, you brushed the comment off. Gavi had been asking you to move in weekly for over a year now, always unfortunately dead serious. There was an innocence and simplicity in the way Pablo say the world that you wished you could emulate. He liked you, he was comfortable around you, and he wanted you to live with him. Simple, right?

But it terrified you. You loved Gavi, probably more than anything else in your life. But long withstanding trauma lives up to its name of being long withstanding. That feeling that the expiration date of your perfect relationship was approaching? That never went away. It was like the more time you spent with Gavi, the more you were terrified that he was going to figure out what was wrong with you, why no one could love you until this point in time, and run for the hills. Your apartment was the one space you still had to be irate and disgusting and genuinely yourself without being afraid of scaring him. And it would make it much easier when he eventually broke up with you to date a pop star or a model or Pedri.

"I'm being serious, princesa. You're here every night. You spend more time here than at your own place. You barely sleep in your own bed because you're just obsessed with me and want to take care of me all the time."

"Pablo, we've talked about this..."

"Yes," he said, sitting up and opening his arms in a gesture for you to come cuddle with him. "We have. Back when we had only been together for only three months and we didn't know if you would be able to put up with me."

"Hey!"

"Let me finish." He hugged you closer to his chest, resting his chin on your head and rubbing slow circles into your skin. It was hard to maintain your composure when you were like this, feeling the warmth radiating off his skin and the pressure of his lips kissing your crown every so often.

"We've been together for a year and a half now. I've seen you in bad moods, heard your yelling, plucked your chin hairs-"

He restrained you from getting up, giggling at your embarrassment. He really was the most adorable little thing on the planet.

"I've seen you at your lowest points. Which, admittedly mi amor, were not that low. I saw a tiktok of this guy who had to pull out his girlfriend's tampon. This could be much worse. Hey, look at me."

You turned over, your chest pressed to Pablo's as he brought his hands up to cup your cheeks. You had learned how to do this in the last year, how to steel yourself under his intense gaze. Pablo Gavi looked at you like he was in the presence of a divine being, eyes big and soft and filled to the brim with adoration. He looked at you like just your image was all he needed to keep breathing.

"I love you. So much that sometimes I don't know what to do with it. I want you to move in so I can take care of you, and so that it's easier to let you take care of me. I want to annoy you with my morning training alarm and make you coffee and maybe mess up your laundry when I try to do the washing."

"This is not a convincing argument so far, baby."

"I just want to live with you. And be around you. And hold you like a weighted teddy bear while I sleep."

"What if you get tired of me being around all the time?" You asked between smooshed cheeks, finally losing your ability to maintain his stare.

Gavi refused to even dignify the question with a verbal response, instead letting go of your face to lift the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over your head. Your cheek was practically burning up pressed against his abs, still defined and solid despite days of immobility.

"Doctora, this is how close I want you to be. At all times. I am about to sew you to my torso. So will you please move in?"

And it was then that you agreed to it. Now the house was littered with so much merch on the walls and shelves it looked like a sports store, but it was yours. A home. You spent months taking care of Gavi, from driving him to appointments to at-home physiotherapy sessions. You took every opportunity to place a gentle kiss on the scar on his knee (ya know, when you were down there ;) ) and avoided all clips that showed him in pain.

"Come on, Doctora. I'm okay."

"I know, I know... it's just not a memory I can bring myself to joke about. Not while you're still in recovery."

"I'm sorry, amor. Can you come home and scold me about it?"

You groaned again, resisting the urge to slam your head into your keyboard. The progress notes were really terrible.

"And besides, you need to finish packing."

This was true. In about 6 hours, you and Gavi would be on a plane for his birthday trip to Ibiza. He had been buzzing with excitement about his birthday trip for months now, eager to take you someplace where there would be nothing to distract the two of you. Just perfect sand and perfect sea for a perfect weekend. He had talked about going farther than Spain this year, maybe Italy or at least Portugal, but injuries have a great way of canceling travel plans.

You reluctantly agreed, telling Pablo you would be home in about 30 minutes, before you began to tidy your workspace. You sent a polite yet pointed email to Aaron (with the head of department CC'ed) explaining that the work was too terrible to be corrected, and he should clear up some time in September to train with you before the season began in earnest and you would be too busy to teach him how to spell "bradycardia".

It was always a humbling experience to pull into the driveway and park your beat up little car next to Gavi's team-sponsored beauty. You were dreading the day he upgraded to something nicer - the neighbors would start thinking that someone was there to rob him. He was already standing at the door smiling wide when you pulled in. He walked up to your door, grabbing all your bags and ushering you inside away from the heat. This had become a regular for Gavi - tracking your location to greet you the second you arrived - so there was really no need to question it anymore. You leaned over and kissed his cheek, eternally grateful for the gentleness he showed you. After a quick yet heated rant about the incompetence of some of the students in your program, you headed upstairs to continue packing.

"Pablo, you think I need to pack more than two dresses?" You asked, looking over the satins and crocheted pieces that your friend ensured you was "totally in".

"I don't think you need to pack any dresses. Or even clothes for that matter."

You raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend, who was leaning casually against the doorframe.

"Am I supposed to be naked for the whole trip?"

"Not the whole trip. Just pack some bikinis for during the day and some cute underwear for the night. The outfit you wear to the airport should be more than enough incase we ever need to leave." He walked over to where you stood in contemplation, arms wrapping tightly around your waist, and his head resting on your shoulder in the perfect position to kiss your neck.

"Be serious, Pablo. What if we want to go for a nice dinner for your birthday? I can't go in a thong or in my plane sweats."

He didn't stop his attack on your neck for an instant, addicted to the warmth and taste of your skin on his tongue.

"Mi amor, mi sol, mi vida - at the risk of being vulgar, I have to say that you will be the nice dinner on my birthday."

Your eyes went wide at this statement, and suddenly you were glad for his arms there to keep you upright.

"I don't even think I have more than one bikini that still fits."

At this, Gavi released you, running to the closet with your yells to slow down behind him (if you had a euro for every time you told him not to run in socks, you could pay off the club's debt). He came shuffling back out with a large black bag, which he promptly dumped out onto the comforter. There were at least ten swimwear sets in various colors and prints, ranging from polka dots to stripes to... was that cheetah print?

"I picked these out the other day. Well, actually, that's a lie. I sent your size to Aurora, and she placed the order online and I just picked up the bag at the store. Can you imagine what Instagram would do with pictures of me buying lingerie?"

"But there's no lingerie here?"

"Fuck." He scampered off once again, returning with another bag to repeat his previous actions. This time the contents were much more sultry, with dark silks and satins staring back up at you. Mainly reds and blacks littered the pale covers.

"Pablo, you shouldn't have. This is too sweet! But we are only going for three days. There's like a month worth of stuff here."

"Are you planning on never going out again after this trip? Just pick your favorites for this weekend. The rest will be waiting for you when you get back, just in case we ever go to the pool or you want to surprise your football star boyfriend by wearing these to work."

You couldn't even be mad at his words when your heart was so full from his gesture. Pablo was always buying you things - that was nothing new. But you had been worrying for days about not looking good on this trip, not having anything new to wear, and he took that burden off your shoulders.

"So I can pick any of these? They look expensive."

"Ay Doctora, don't upset me. Nothing is worth more than your happiness. I do have one request though."

"Yes, mi amor?"

"You have to wear this one on my birthday," he said while reaching past you to pick up a white bikini with red cherries printed all over.

"Why is that?"

"Because you're like the cherry on top of my birthday cake. You always look good, but I want you to look irresistible."

"Okay, let's relax that's a lot of talk for a- oh my God." Your eyes widened, and you grabbed Pablo's face with a dropped jaw.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh my God."

"You said that already."

"Pablo!"

"Yes, princesa?"

"An adult. You're going to be an adult tomorrow. As in not a teenager."

"We arrive at like 11pm so it's more like I won't be a teenager anymore tonig- are you crying?"

"I'm not going to have a teenage boyfriend anymore!" You threw your arms around him, hugging him so tightly there was a fear of his ribs cracking.

"I feel like I should be offended by this statement."

~

"3...2...1... Happy 20th birthday Pablito!" You said softly, a single cupcake with a lit candle on the top held before the birthday boy. It was the same as the previous year (iykyk), but this time with a red and yellow swirl to match the Spanish national team.

"Thank you, mi vida." He closed his eyes, deep in thought regarding his wish, and blew out the candle. He scooped up a dollop of frosting, placing it on your lips before kissing it gently away.

"I can't believe I get to spend another birthday with you," he whispered out, scared that anything louder would destroy the gentle atmosphere around the two of you.

After sharing more sugary kisses, you fell asleep on Pablo's chest, soothed to sleep by his slow heart beat and rhythmic breathing. You woke before him, placing a kiss on his forehead before getting up to dress, snickering quietly at his snoring. The poor boy was so exhausted. You put on the swimsuit he had picked for you, the material fitting you stunningly. You looked at yourself in the mirror and couldn't help but smile. The white and red complemented your skin, your hair framing your face still bare and slightly puffed with the remnants of sleep. Gavi's necklace dangled between your collar bones, the metal cool on your skin. Everything on your body was an expression of love.

Stepping out of the bathroom in your bikini and wrap around skirt, you found the bed suspiciously empty. There was a light breeze coming from the terrace, where you found your boyfriend leaning shirtless on the railing. As if sensing your stare, he turned over his shoulder and wave you to join him. The sun was starting to shine in earnest, the smell of the ocean filling your senses. There was no place you would rather be.

"Good morning, beautiful. I know I asked you to wear that, but I almost want you to take it off. You look too good - I'm scared I'll have to beat every other man away with a stick."

He took a seat on one of the deck chairs, and you took your rightful place on his lap, arms around his neck.

"Good thing this strip of beach is private then."

Your lips found his in a deep kiss, fingers traveling to play with the short strands at the nape of his neck. It was an intoxicating thing to kiss Pablo Gavi. His plush lips molded perfectly to yours, bringing you in impossibly closer. He was always so eager, gently nibbling on your bottom lip whenever he could catch it, soft breaths and little whines spurring you on. Neither of you could bring yourselves to stop, tongues tangled like high schoolers as you made out in the early August sun. His hands were firm on your hips, more for his benefit than yours. He was eager to drag you to the sand, but knew neither of you would leave the room if he allowed your hips to act on their own accord. He relaxed back, allowing you to take the lead, and whimpered a little louder when you bit his lip. It was your giggling that broke the kiss, and you rested your forehead against his, breathless and chest heaving.

"Big Bad Gavi likes having his lip bit. Who would've thought?"

He whined again, finding the column of your neck and to town, nipping and sucking, unwilling to not have his lips and tongue occupied by you just yet. When you started digging into his biceps, he released you, admiring his handy work.

"Pablo people are going to see." You said, pout on your lips and big eyes trained on your boyfriend. He kissed your jutting bottom lip and lifted you off him.

"Like you said - good thing this beach is private."

~

Pablo had so many moments with you where he thought "she could never be more beautiful than this". The first was the first night you fell asleep on his couch, face peaceful with sleep. The next was under the stadium lights, as he thrust a trophy in your hands and lifted you above his shoulders. Then it was in some French hallway, in a ballgown with no heels as he kissed you senseless, finally brave enough to take what he wanted. In coffee shops and grocery store aisles and on his mattress, he always thought there was no possibility for you to be more stunning. But as you lay stretched out on the sand, eyes closed and muscles relaxed, he had the thought again. The sun tinted your skin slightly, making you gleam like a goddess that had just emerged from the sea. The bright white against your skin had Gavi tingling, wanting to remove the pure material and access what it was protecting.

Your hair was soaked, and you laid on your stomach in the sand to gain some color and dry off after the exertion of swimming with Gavi. The sun was phenomenal on your damp skin, and you had never been more at piece. You felt a hand creep up your back, and suddenly your chest wasn't as supported as it should have been.

"Pablo! Did you just undo my top?"

"I'm just unwrapping my present."

He brought you to sit on his lap once again, your loose top fighting to remain around your neck.

"How private is this beach?"

"You think I would let you go topless if there was a chance another soul would see?"

You felt like a teenager again, embarrassed and looking around frantically for someone who would catch you in such an act with your boyfriend.

"I heard beach sex sucks and I'm not eager to get sand in my vagina."

"We're not going to have sex on the beach. I may be more grown up, but I still like seeing boobs every once in a while."

"So you just want to look at them?"

"Among other things. You want to see my checklist?"

You wrapped your arms around his neck once again, kissing him deeply as he fully removed the fabric from your chest. He brought a hand to your back, pressing you against him, your breasts flush against his chest. It was a thrilling sensation, being topless and against your boyfriend with the sun beating down against you both.

Gavi laid back on the sound with you atop him, unclipping you hair to allow it to fall down your back. In your current situation, you were still covered enough to not face public indecency charges. He played with the strands of hair, weaving his fingers into the locks as his teeth caught your bottom lip and sucked on it like his favorite hard candy.

"I'm going to have sand in my hair."

"Guess we'll just have to take a bath together so I can wash it for you."

You kissed him again, his fingers trailing up your torso and brushing the sides of your boobs, sparking electricity in their path. It was so high school: topless on a beach, making out with your boyfriend. But made you stir low in your stomach, a mix of desire and the deepest form of love. You loved Pablo Gavi. You loved his little antics, you loved the pleasure he brought to every aspect of your life.

"Enjoying your birthday so far?" You asked, reluctantly pulling away from his lips, chest heaving against his. Gavi took the opportunity to grab your breasts and squeeze lightly, playing with them like it was his favorite activity in the world.

"More than I can even express."

He brought you against him, arms around you and bodied pressed together, and laid back down.

"So you just wanted to feel me up while we make out?"

"I want to feel you against me, mi amor. I want you to feel how hard my heart beats when I'm around you. I want to do everything that comes to my mind with you. Being topless on the beach. Ordering everything on the hotel menu. Skinny dipping at midnight. Every experience in my life is better when you're in it. I want to make every memory with you, so that when we're old and hold hands in our matching wheelchairs, I can say "Hey remember when we were hot and young and topless making out in Ibiza?" I want to do everything in the world with you."

You pressed your lips to his again, a deep kiss that winded the both of you.

"I love you, Pablo. Happy birthday."

"I love you more, Doctora."

~~~

Okay here it is!! Happy birthday to the love of my life, the light of my soul, Pablo Gavi. I love this boy more than I can express, and he represents so much good in my life. I hope his 20th year is filled with every happiness in the world.

As usual, please like, comment, reblog - all the good stuff. If you like this dynamic, I have a full 10 part series of these two idiots in my masterlist. I also have an ongoing Pedri series! Check that out if it's more your speed.

Please also take a moment to check out the links on my pinned post to help families in Palestine. If you don't have the money to donate but still want to help, every comment with a watermelon emoji under my pedri posts = $1 I donate on your behalf. I think that's all I have to say. Love y'all <3

xoxo, GUB

[goodfish-bowl]

Check Your Sources

DP Side Hoes Week 2024 Master Post

Day 2: Jazz Fenton - university times

Summary: Jazz has a misunderstanding with a professor over her selected topic for her paper.

Word Count: 1271

AO3 Link

Jazz Fenton had remembered turning in her psychology paper on ecto-psychology, particularly the role of obsessions in the mental state of Ecto-entities, with utmost confidence. She had meant it as a draft for the final paper she intended to published after the completion of her degree. She had already sent in her paper on Ghost Envy for her application to the college, and it was currently in the process of being peer-reviewed, so she needed something new for her current psychology paper. She had compiled the information for it during her last trip to Amity Park, and organized it into this assignment, including multiple citations both within the ecto-science fields and otherwise, to make sure her paper was well-rounded. She had quadruple-checked everything, from her grammar, to her formatting, to the way she cited each of her sources. 

For these reasons, Jazz was absolutely confounded by the red ink and stark zero written at the top of her returned paper. There was a sticky note attached, telling her to talk to the professor after class.

Jazz glanced between her paper, and the professor in horror. During the course of the term, Jazz had developed a deep respect for Dr. Kaplan, and her work on the psychology of people with PTSD. She must have a good reason for giving her such a poor grade, but the fact she received it at all filled her with mortification. She had never gotten a grade so low in her entire education. Jazz needed to know why, but she couldn’t even figure out what she had done wrong in the first place. In the corner of her mind, she had a sinking suspicion, but hoped with everything she was wrong. 

Jazz spent the entire class in a tizzy. Constantly flipping back and forth between the day’s class-work and her paper. Outside of the first page, the rest of the paper was completely unmarked. Frustration began to simmer underneath Jazz’s skin. How was she supposed to fix this if the professor never even told her what she did wrong?! But it would be fine… she was meeting with the teacher after class anyways. 

From that point forward, class moved forward at a crawl. Jazz still couldn’t pay much attention, and found her notes were much less organized than she would prefer. But when the professor dismissed them, Jazz practically darted to Dr. Kaplan’s podium. 

The professor was a thin, wiry woman, dressed professionally, and looked down upon Jazz from behind equally wiry glasses. She gave Jazz a hard-look, almost one of disdain, and it was only the years of facing the nightmares of Amity Park that kept her from physically recoiling. She removed her eyes from Jazz and gazed around the still-emptying classroom. 

“It might be better to have this conversation in my office,” Dr. Kaplan stated, leaving the room, with Jazz practically at her heels. 

Dr. Kaplan’s office was a fair reflection of the woman herself. Neutral colors, her degree on display, and psychology books lining her singular bookshelf. Her desk was dark wood, and chairs cushions a beige leather. The plant sitting by the window was fake. It was all very professional, and at the same time very impersonal and lifeless. Despite the light colors and the sunlight streaming in through the window blinds, the atmosphere was near stifling. 

The professor took her seat behind the desk, and Jazz hesitated, waiting until Dr. Kaplan gestured for her to take a seat. The seats were more stylish than they were comfortable. She gingerly set her paper on the edge of the desk, sitting board-straight in the chair. 

“Ms. Fenton,” Dr. Kaplan practically sighed, “is there a reason you’re not taking my class seriously?”

The question came completely unexpected. “What are you talking about, Dr. Kaplan? I’ve been giving this class my best efforts,” Jazz pleaded. 

Dr. Kaplan frowned, tapping her carefully manicured, neutrally colored nails against her paper. “This assignment says otherwise.”

Jazz frowned, mentally skimming over the paper. “I… I don’t understand. I’ve followed the assignment criteria almost exactly, I’ve even collected first-hand observations.”

Dr. Kaplan looked like she had sucked a lemon. “Ah, yes,” she said flatly. “Ms. Fenton, while you’ve followed the semblance of the rubric for this assignment to a near exceptional degree, a paper on the theoretical psychology of fictional beings is hardly an acceptable paper topic.” 

 Ah, there it was. Jazz had suspected as much, but it still didn’t calm the simmering frustration, boiling into anger under her skin. 

“Honestly,” Dr. Kaplan continued, “for such a brilliant girl, I can only see the submission of a paper like this as a lack of care, and simply unprofessional to boot. To go as far as to make up sources, as properly cited as they are, is simply-”

It was taking everything within Jazz not to blow up in her professor’s face. Her nails were starting to bite into her palms, and her teeth felt sharp in her mouth as she grit them. Had Dr. Kaplan stopped at the whole ‘ghosts aren’t real’ bit, it wouldn’t have been anything she hadn’t heard before. But to accuse her of lying, and making up sources, that was getting a bit too close to unforgivable. She was losing any respect she had for this professor with every word out of her mouth. 

“Those are real sources and I have recordings of the data I collected myself,” Jazz had to keep herself from hissing. “You’re welcome to check my sources. Of course, due to the analog nature of the recordings, they will require a tape player to view. As for the other second and third hand sources, they are all from qualified journals.” 

“I admire the lengths you’ve gone to make your work of fiction as realistic as possible however-”

“Have you heard of Amity Park before?” Jazz could not stop herself from growling out the question, shooting to her feet, unable to take this sitting down any longer. “Have you done any research to support your claim over mine?”

Dr. Kaplan had a deer-in-headlights expression as Jazz towered over her desk, while also simultaneously adding the only color to her entire office through the reddening of her face. “Are you delusional? Ghosts aren’t real.”

Jazz felt what little ectoplasm that lived under her skin hum in tune with her rage as she slammed a hand down onto the desk, crinkling her paper underneath her wrath. This wasn’t about the grade anymore.

 “Ecto-science is a pseudo-science at worst. It is young and mostly unexplored, but it is hardly fictional. Psychology used to occupy the very same space not too long ago. If you had done any research to check your biases, you would have found this out.” 

Something was burning. 

Jazz quickly snatched her paper back into her hands, gritting her teeth, and reigning in her anger as fast as she could. She cleared her throat hard enough for it to sound like a snarl. 

“It appears your classroom will no longer be a conductive learning environment for me,” Jazz spoke evenly, tone carefully measured. “It would do you well to actually look into the topics your students write about.”

Jazz collected her things, already mentally filing out the required paperwork and emails to the Registar’s Office to have her transferred to a different class. She moved to the doorway and gave her professor a polite nod, ignoring the gobsmacked look on Dr. Kalplan’s face. 

“Have a nice afternoon, Professor.”

Jazz fled the room, dead set in ignoring the hand-shaped burn she had left on her professor’s desk and the smoldering paper in her hands.

[helaelaemond]

TIPS FOR WRITING IN AN ENGLISH UNIVERSITY SETTING from someone who’s been through it!

This post is written with fanfic in mind, specifically about Michael Gavey as a Maths student at the University of Oxford.

University structure

At Oxford, you are there typically for three years. You’re not usually referred to as “first year”, “second year” or “third year/final year” as nouns, and are more likely to describe yourself as being “in my first year” etc. The only exception is your first few weeks at uni when you’re known as a fresher. Your first week in your first year is known as “freshers week”, and its lots of social activities around the uni and beyond.

OXFORD IS NOT A CAMPUS UNI. University housing and buildings are scattered around the city of Oxford, and so using terms like “on campus” are not applicable.

Term starts in early October, and most exams are wrapped up by June.

Housing

Oxford is one of four English universities that use the college system (the others being Cambridge - also called ‘The Other Place’ - Durham, and York) and for the sake of simplicity, you can think of this as a replacement term for ‘dorm’ (a term not typically used). You can find a list of all the colleges on the university’s website.

Within the college building, there are usually single rooms with en-suites, but some rooms have to share a communal bathroom.

University students do NOT have roommates - no one shares a bedroom. There are also some room types in a flat-like set up, with a cluster of a few rooms (2-8 typically) and a shared kitchen. This is less common at Oxford.

Students sometimes stay in university-provided accommodation for the duration of their studies, whilst some choose to live in private accommodation from their second year onwards. If they do this, they are still associated with their college, and by default their college does not change. Private accommodation usually means a regular house shared with a few other people - this is standard across all universities in the UK, not just Oxford.

Classes

Generally speaking, subjects that don’t require lab work have a pretty simple weekly structure of one lecture and one seminar per module. Lectures are observed silently, and seminars are for discussions. Even the boldest or more socially unaware individuals do not interrupt lectures (in my four years, I never ever experienced anyone interrupting or asking a question, and so if you’re going to write Michael doing that, be aware it is a huge taboo unless the lecturer has asked for participation). Students usually take 2-3 different modules per semester, and during the academic year, there are two semesters across three terms.

Reading week is a week of usually in late October/early November where there are no classes for a week and it is a time for self-study.

Most modules have at least one assignment (what Americans would call a term paper) due before the Christmas break in December, and then at least one exam after the break ends in January. Some modules on some courses have other assignments or contributors to grades (like group presentations) but this isn’t all that common. It is very rare for things like “extra credit” to be earned, if at all.

Unless reading a combined degree (like Politics and Economics), you only take one subject. There is nothing like a “major” and “minor”. When doing a combined degree, you take half your modules on one degree, and half your modules on the other, so it’s an even 50/50. You cannot choose any subject to do a combined degree for, and they are pre-set courses determined by the university. For example, you couldn’t do a combined degree of Maths and Geography just because you wanted to.

You don’t talk about what course you’re studying, you say what course you’re reading (which is why Michael says he’s “reading Maths” not studying it).

University culture

Nightclubbing isn’t much of a thing in Oxford. If you want a uni with great nightlife you go to Birmingham, Nottingham, Sheffield, Newcastle, London - not Oxford or Cambridge. Instead, students are much more likely to spend time in one of the dozens of pubs in Oxford. College parties (I.e university accommodation parties) don’t tend to be much of a thing either unless they’re organised by the social events committees in those colleges.

Elitism is an enormous problem at Oxford. For example, in 2015, 45% of all freshers were from private schools, while only less than 7% of children in the UK are privately educated. Classism is an issue that is so unbelievably rampant in places like Oxford that I can’t even begin to explain. But like many forms of prejudice in the UK, it’s rarely overt. It comes in the forms of exclusion from social activities (think a working class student not being able to go on a ski trip with course mates), social rules only familiar to the rich being the order of the day (having the right type of suit for a formal dinner).

Oxford is a place where lifelong connections are made that spill into entertainment, business, and (most worryingly) politics, but best believe that if you’re not from the right background, those connections are not yours to make. In fact, the likelihood of you even know they’re going on in the shadows is high.

Obviously, classism and elitism are themes of Saltburn, but please don’t take them too seriously, as it’s crucial to remember that the writer/director grew up in these very private inner circles of elites. As such, her spin is wildly… wild. She’s an incredibly unreliable source for basing any kind of opinion about these issues on.

That’s all I can think of right now! I highly encourage other people who have been through English universities to add on with advice you think you would helpful to writers 😁🫶

And if you’ve got any specific questions, let me know and I’ll help if I can!

[savnofilter]

His Spidey-Senses | h. sero

         College AU!Sero Hanta x [GN]Reader

CONTENT WARNING(S): sfw, light suggestive content, kithing 😙, tsundere!reader, sero may have hyper fixation on a certain Spiderman scene, established relationship.

COUNT: 2k words [10 mins].

READ MORE: part two [masterlist + student masterlist].

A/N: this originally was a collab with a dear friend i am no longer friends with. ive been wanting to write sero more often and thought this would be the perfect work to finish and do so. if you so happen to be on my blog, ily. the first para to the fourth ("lectures -> day.") were written by her with very light editing whilst the rest is mine. wish we couldve finished this together years ago. anyways, hope yall enjoy this as much as i did finishing it. i'll make this post look prettier when my pc starts working again. 🥺🫶🏽

Lectures droned on and for you, it was a total bore. What you would give to be in the hero studies track and not stuck in the general studies degree... Hell, you were starting to consider your quirk turning anything you touch into rubber as a consideration for a strong quirk. As the blood hero, Vlad King, continued on, your eyes wandered to the clock above the board, counting down the seconds before the bell could finally ring. And sure enough, in ten seconds you were already bolting through the door.

You made quick steps to the end of the hall in hopes you could hurry and get these papers settled for the up-and-coming agency visit. As you shuffled through the papers you didn’t notice one of the windows that opened, the air from outside blowing the papers out of your hand before you could even think about what happened. Your eyes watched in defeat as the papers left your grasp, your brain not processing what had just occurred before one so happened to hit you in the face.

Your papers!

You rushed to the window and looked around in absolute worry, eyes wildly searching for them before sighing deeply in despair. How were you supposed to get them now? That was your only chance to get them done finally and they were due by the end of the day.

“Shit, shit, shit…” You mutter under your breath angrily as your eyes quickly scan the area helplessly. You crouch down body finally out of shock to collect your things. Of course when you finally finish this assignment after being so busy lately something out of your control happens again. While collecting your things in defeat a male's voice calls out to you from the open window.

"Did 'ya drop these?"

You whip your head around and look at the source of the sound, a gush of relief washing over you as you look over at your hero. "Oh my god," You stand up and lean against the ledge, hands reaching out for the remaining papers of the stack. The black-haired male pulls his hand back as you reach out to him, his actions making your arms recoil in confusion. A wave of annoyance promptly follows.

"Sero, give me the papers."

"Nuh-uh," Your boyfriend does his signature grin and moves to hang upside down from his tape. "You gotta give me a kiss first."

You scoff and tilt your head with a deadpan look, staring at him as you try to gauge if he is being deadass or not. You look away from his smug and handsome face, glancing left and right to make sure no one else occupies the hallway at this time. You chuckle as you wordlessly lean forward to give him a kiss, his soft lips eagerly meeting yours.

You and Sero had decided to binge old Marvel movies over the weekend and it may have been your worst and best mistake yet. Right into the first entry of the night, your excited boyfriend, Sero, insists that you start with Spiderman. You two bickered for a while as you wanted to go in chronological order, but later you chose to comply with his request only because he seemed excited to see it. In your memory, the movie was pretty good so there wasn't much complaining, but it wasn't the overall movie that got him obsessed. It was the most iconic bit of the movie for fanatics that set a cultural reset in cinema and fandom:

The upside-down kiss.

At that moment as your head laid on his chest, your cheek could feel the thumping in his chest speed up as the scene progressed. Instinctually you peer up at your boyfriend and lean away to see his face better, a playful smirk on your face as you squeeze him.

"No way you're blushing!" You sit up and get a better look at him with the dim and cozy lighting accentuating his cute face.

Sero rolls his eyes and gives you a look that begs for understanding, his hand grabbing your forearm as a plea. "Of course I am! That kiss was totally unnecessary."

"Mm, you think so?" You tease, body leaning into his and your face only centimeters away from his this time. "So you'd never want to try that with me?" Prying, your free hand that rested on his chest slid its way up to the side of your boyfriend's neck. Your thumb presses lightly against his pulse enjoying the way he shifts at the pressure on his neck.

"That's not what I mean and I didn't say that." Sero responds lowly. You two look into each other's eyes before leaning in to press your lips against his in a heavy kiss.

That night you two certainly did upside-down kiss, not exactly portrayed from the movie but you can already guess what went down. Either way, he was totally enraptured by that scene and used almost every chance he could to have you two recreate it.

You thought his infatuation was cute (which you made the mistake of telling him). In some instances, they were certainly out of place and even managed to gain a bit of a crowd when he'd give you a peck. You were a shy person when it came to showing affection, the fact that you were relaxed enough to do it so easily in private was a milestone. What really took the cake was his public displays of affection, the ongoing lookers enjoying a little too much of your abashed reaction to his advances. The perfect thing about your boyfriend is that he knows when and where to tease you, though. Every kiss he gave you caused you to feel embarrassment mixed with overwhelming love. Even in the more public settings, it was done with so much rizz you couldn't help but feel like a blushing schoolgirl or better yet, MJ. You couldn't lie, the whole appeal was that in many ways Sero always acted and felt like your own superhero—never mind the fact he was training to actually be one. As much as you were a tsundere at heart, his cheesy gestures always seemed to win you over.

But you know what the best part about this is?

You two were on the same page for your couple's costume this Halloween.

"You're my hero, seriously. I think I would've had a breakdown if you didn't catch those." You look up at him as he switches around to be upright again and step back as you collect the papers, giving him room to enter the hallway. He understands your thought process and effortlessly enters the building, gracefully landing on his feet. He makes sure to close the window behind him to avoid another mishap from occurring.

Sero doesn't say anything as he watches you fix the papers in order at a small table, eyes soft in their observations. There was a never-leaving tension on your delicate features, shoulders hunched while your back was impossibly straight. He had known you for a while now and it was clear to him that you were too stressed.

He stares at you for a bit longer making you look up at him with light confusion written all over your face at his silence. "Baby, let me take you out. You look stressed as fuck."

Your furrowed brows, slight frown, and irritation immediately lessen at him calling it out. You sigh softly and shake your head as you go back to rearranging your papers. You didn't want to outright say no, but there's no way you could easily agree. You felt bad either way with how much he does for you.

"C'mon, I can tell with my Spidey senses that you totally need me to take you out."

"'Ro, you have that training all the way into the evening tonight. I can't ask that of you!"

"Oh but you can," He genuinely smiles as he pulls you in by your waist. What you didn't know about him was that when he's around you, he always feels energized. Even if he had a super jam-packed schedule for a whole week, an hour with you always brightens his mood. He was more than willing to spend the rest of his night with you if it meant making you feel better. It wasn't like he secretly felt like he was sacrificing on his part either, he would willingly drop everything just to be with you. He pulls you closer as he places both of his hands on your waist and pulls you close to his chest. "Relax."

He mutters against your lips as you wrap your hands around his shoulders, a full-on kiss finally happening for the day. You softly hum as he applies more passion to the kiss, his hands sliding up a bit to hold your back and you arch into him. Your lips move so easily against his that you totally forget where you even are. The only thing you can focus on is that his lips and hands felt so good on you.

Your body melts against his natural fluidity, your muscles and joints already so accustomed to the black-haired male. You could feel something start to poke against your tummy, the pressure already sending a jolt of arousal straight to your core. You softly whimper when he slips his tongue into your mouth, wanting nothing more but to be engulfed completely in his presence.

As you slip further into the kiss, an irritating thought runs across your mind for the second time during this encounter: your papers. You groan in annoyance as you force yourself to pull yourself away from your lover, a string of saliva connecting you two. You bring up your wrist to wipe it away although not fully committing to pulling away from him just yet.

"Ah shit," You try to collect yourself and lightly pant as you look up at him. It was a mixture of not wanting to go, a silent plea for more later. "I have to meet with my professor-"

"Tonight though right, babe?" He leans against the wall as he asks. You sigh and nod your head in acceptance.

"Tonight, I promise." You lean in and give his cheek a kiss before taking your papers and sending him a small wave. You step back and swivel on your heels, hastily returning on your journey to the aforementioned lecture room. You’re able to hide the giddy smile that reaches your lips as you already start to fantasize about your boyfriend, but he already knew you would start cheesing the moment you turned around.

You felt so incredibly lucky to have your very own hero grace your life like this.

    all rights reserved © do NOT steal, alter or copy this work.

[whiskeyncoke-redux]

Advisement

Professor!Joel Miller x Reader

A/N: I repurposed a fic I had already written into this one. Thanks to @liquorlaughslove and @ziggyrocket for the advice. Feedback is always welcome.

Warnings: Smut, Oral (M/F Receiving), Unprotected Sex | 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Your destination is on the left.” 

You squinted at the number on the house to the left of you. It matched the address you had been given. You double checked your GPS on your phone to make sure you were in the right place; and sure enough you were. Upon second inspection, you realized that yes, this modest and unassuming house had to belong to Professor Miller, who was a fairly modest man.

You gathered your laptop bag out of your backseat, and, taking a deep breath, you exited your car. You slowly walked up the path to the front door, debating with yourself whether or not you should turn around, get back in your car, and head to your apartment. But you didn’t, you knew you didn’t want to anyway, so you kept walking.

How you even ended up here was still shocking to you. You had been working on this final paper for your degree, but you were having trouble with it. You were stuck and running out of ideas. So, after trying everything you could think of, you finally went to your professor for some advice. If truth be told you had avoided going to him for the entire year, not because he was a horrible person, but because of your overwhelming attraction to him. To be fair, you weren’t the only one who was attracted to him. Almost every woman who took his classes was. 

When you had walked in on the first day, your friend Anna had pulled you to the front row of seats where other women were vying for good spots. You didn’t understand what was going on, until after you and Anna had found seats in the second row, and he walked in asking for silence. You felt your breath hitch in your throat when you saw him and you could feel every female around you let out a collective sigh when he walked to the front and stood in front of you all. You exchanged glances with Anna, who had taken a class with him before, and she just smirked at you in a way that said “told you so.” You settled down and tried to focus on what he was saying throughout class, because, despite how distractingly handsome he was, you needed this class to graduate. 

Professor Miller’s class was hands down the most challenging (hence the issue with your paper), but he was also probably one of the most brilliant professors on campus, so it was to him you reluctantly went for help. You had nervously gone to his office. His door was slightly ajar and you peeped through it, seeing him bent over some papers on his desk, his brow furrowed as he marked them. You knocked on it, causing him to look up. When he spotted you standing there, he gave you a small smile that made your stomach twist and invited you in.

“What can I help you with?” he asked, motioning for you to sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

“Well,” you started taking a seat. “I’ve been having trouble with this final assignment.”

“Really? With what exactly? I know you understand it, you’re one of my most brilliant students.”

You were surprised at that comment. You didn’t think he’d even noticed you. 

“I-I am?”

He nodded, smiling at you again. “Of course you are. Some of the best grades, best papers I’ve ever read.”

You preened slightly at the praise. “W-well, I guess it’s more of an organizational issue.”

“Such as?”

You began to explain what you were having trouble with as he listened intently to you talk. Once you were finished he gave you some suggestions as to help you organize your paper. You nodded, taking mental notes.

“When you do that,” he said, standing up and gathering the papers he had on his desk,  putting them into his briefcase. “Bring it to me to see. My office door is always open.”

You stood. “Right, will do.”

He walked over to his door, and held it open for you to walk through. You for sure thought it was your imagination, but you could swear you could feel his eyes on your body as you walked ahead of him. You tried to not think about it anymore as you headed to your shared apartment and worked on your paper. Everything Professor Miller had told you worked, but eventually you hit another block. So, of course you went back. And then again, and again. Not only was he a brilliant man and easy to talk to, he was funny too. You found yourself loosening up more around him. And you noticed during class (along with Anna and a few others) that he would smile at you a little more than the rest of the students when you’d ask something or answer one of his questions. You also noticed, during your advisement meetings, that his eyes would sometimes linger on you a little longer on you than they did at first. When you’d first noticed this, it made you warm all over. 

With each meeting you spent more and more time in his office. At first you would only talk about your paper, but slowly the conversations ventured into other territories. Eventually you found yourself hanging out in his office, not even mentioning your assignment. So when he invited you over to his house to help you put the final touches on your paper over the holiday break, you agreed without really thinking about it.

That’s how you found yourself slowly walking up the path to his front door, more nervous than you had been before. He had invited you to his house and here you were, you were a little shocked at yourself for agreeing. Why would you do that? You asked yourself, but in the back of your mind, you knew why; those advisement meetings had become increasingly intimate.You knew what you wanted and what he probably wanted too, and it was for that reason you agreed. 

You stood at his front door, straightening the dress you wore. You raised your hand to knock, but before you could, he opened it. He gave you that smile that made your knees go slightly weak.

“Right on time, Miss Y/N,” he drawled before stepping back and ushering you inside.

As you walked past him, you definitely could feel his eyes on your body as he closed the door behind you. You had worn the dress just for that reason, but it still made you feel warm all over. 

Walking closely behind you so you could feel his warm breath on the nape of your neck, he said, “We can work in my office.” 

He placed a hand on the lower part of your back, turning you in the direction he indicated. His touch sent a shiver through you you were sure he could feel, and you sighed. You knew he heard that, because you saw him smirk a bit. You followed him as he led the way. Your eyes couldn’t help but take in his body as you walked behind him; his broad muscular back, that even the dress shirt he wore couldn’t hide. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you stared at him. Of course you weren’t the first student to do that. You and a few of your other classmates had often whispered about it when he’d walk past you on campus; lewd remarks coming from all of you about what you’d do with him if you ever got the chance.

Once you were both in his office, he made his way over to his desk, picking up a chair on the way, and placing it in front of his desk for you to sit. You took your seat as he settled behind his desk. 

“So, what do we need to finish?” he asked you.

“Just some final touches here and there,” you told him, reaching down and pulling your laptop out of its bag. 

You turned it on and pulled up your paper, then handed it over to him. As he read over it, you couldn’t help but drink him in. It wasn’t the first time you’d done it, but you couldn’t seem to get enough of looking at him. His face, with those brown eyes that seemed to stare right through you, those cheekbones that would become prominent when he gave one of his smiles that lit up his whole face, and lips that made you curious to know how they’d feel against yours. He glanced up from the screen and saw you staring at him. You looked down at his desk quickly, as he typed something, your eyes going to his hands. Those hands. You remembered how one touch had made you feel, and you knew that, with his hands alone, he could make you come completely undone. You clenched your thighs at the thought

“Well,” he said finally, shaking you out of your thoughts. “Everything looks great, there’s just one part here, I think you could work on.”

You stood and walked over to his side of the desk, leaning over to read over the part he had been talking about. As you read and typed out the suggestions he made, you felt his hand ghosting over the back of your legs. You sucked in a breath as you felt his hand move up to the back of your thigh. Without thinking, you parted your legs as his hand went higher, still giving you suggestions as you typed. 

His touch seemed to scramble your brain causing you to make more and more mistakes, red and blue lines littering your paper, the higher it went under your dress. When you felt his hand reach the apex of your thighs then push your panties to the side, you stopped typing completely and pushed your laptop to the side. You gripped the edge of the desk as you felt one of his fingers slide into your slick folds. You were so wet. When did that happen? You thought, but the idea was chased out of your mind when you felt him add another finger, making you moan softly.

When you felt him take his fingers from inside you, you let out a sigh of disappointment. He stood up behind you.

“Turn around,” you heard him say in your ear, his voice dropping an octave. 

Obediently you turned to face him. You looked up into his dark eyes and felt yourself grow shy at his intense gaze. You looked down, focusing on his chest, on the way his shirt was unbuttoned and the bit skin that was peeping out.

“Look at me,” he said, placing his hand underneath your chin, and lifting your head up.

You looked back into his eyes, his stare making you tremble, not with fright, but excitement and need. He started stroking your cheek with his thumb softly.

“If you want to leave, you can,” he told you. “We can stop at any time.”

“I-I don’t want to leave.”

“You sure?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

At your answer, he bent his head and kissed you softly. You put your hand on the back of his head, pushing him closer to you, deepening the kiss. He moaned as you kissed him harder. His moans sent tingles through your body, going straight to your core, making you wetter than you’d been before. His hands dropped to your hips, pulling you towards him. He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours as you caught your breath. He chuckled lightly, before kissing you deeply once more, then lifting you to sit on the desk in front of his chair. 

Positioning himself between your legs, he kissed you again, his lips trailing down your jaw to your neck right below your ear. You felt his hands slide up your arms to the straps of your dress. He lowered them slowly, his lips traveling lower kissing you on your shoulder. The further he pulled your dress down the lower he kissed you. 

When he got to the top of your breasts, he reached around and unhooked your bra, tossing it to the side, before lowering his head and taking a nipple into his mouth. Feeling his warm mouth on you, his tongue licking around it, sucking on it, made you moan louder. He switched to your other breast, his hand going to play with the first.

He continued kissing lower, pulling your dress down lower, you lifted your hips so he could pull it off. He stood back, looking down at you sitting on his desk in nothing but your panties. He reached behind him and pulled his chair up so he could sit down. Once seated, he traced his hands up your thighs, making you close your eyes at the feel of them on your skin. They were strong but soft. He reached for your panties and he hooked his hands in the elastic and pulled them off. 

You rested a foot on each of the arms of his chair, caging him between your legs. He started kissing up your thighs, until he reached your core. He glanced up at you before lowering his head and licking his tongue up your folds, licking up the juices that had collected there. You felt him moan against your pussy lips, before sliding his tongue inside you. You raised a leg and placed it on his shoulder so he could go in deeper. When you felt his nose nudge against your clit, jerked your hips up. He flicked his tongue against your clit, making you jerk your hips again. He chuckled at that, and did it once more, getting the same reaction out of you. He then began sucking on your sensitive nub, while sliding two fingers back inside you. He curled his fingers searching for your g-spot. When you let out a sound somewhere between a moan and soft scream, he knew he had it. He began teasing it with his fingers while sucking and licking at your clit.

Soon, you felt an orgasm building. You reached down, pressing his head closer to you. Your legs began to tremble as the coil inside you broke, and you came with a loud moan of his name. He lifted his head, but kept working his fingers inside you, watching you ride out your orgasm. When your breathing leveled out, he took his fingers from inside you, and stood up, looking down at you.

“You okay?” he asked.

In response, you grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him in to kiss you, your tongue sliding into his mouth. You moaned at the taste of yourself on his lips and tongue. As you kissed him, your hands were busy, undoing the buttons of his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders. You pulled at the undershirt he wore, only breaking the kiss to pull it over his head. You threw it to the side, where it joined the rest of your clothes. You then hopped off the desk, reaching down to grip the belt in his pants, using it to pull him closer as you used your hands, lips and tongue to travel over the planes of his body. 

He undid his belt, then his pants; pushing them down along with his boxers. When you went to kneel in front of him, he stopped you.

“Later,” he told you, before lightly pushing back onto the desk.

He lined himself up with your entrance, rubbing his dick up and down your slick folds, before pushing himself inside you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing him deeper until he was completely sheathed inside you. He stood there, inside you, both of you adjusting to the feel of the other. 

“Shit,” you whispered with your eyes closed. He was bigger than you had expected, stretching you deliciously. 

“You okay?” he asked again.

“Mmm-hmm,” you hummed, opening your eyes and looking up into his eyes before saying: “Fuck me, now.”

Without another word, he lifted one of your legs in his arm and started moving inside you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your hands rubbing up and down his back, as you moved with him. You reached up to bring his head down so you could kiss him again. When he hit that spot inside you, you moaned into his mouth.

When he grabbed your other leg in his arm, you laid back on the desk as he moved inside you faster. He leaned forward and you raised your legs, placing them on his shoulders, so he could go deeper. The head of his dick hitting your spot over and over with each thrust.

“Mmm fuck, right there.”

“Goddamn you feel so good, baby,” he groaned as you clenched your pussy around him. “Shit, so tight around me.”

You took your legs from his shoulders and wrapped them back around his waist, your arms going around his back, as your nails dug into his skin. The sounds of your moans and his groans filled the room along with the rhythmic sounds of skin slapping against skin and the softer sounds of the desk moving slightly as he continued to rut against you making your back arch off the desk. 

He stood up straight pulling you with him, before pulling out and motioning for you to get off the desk. You did and he turned you around, bending you over it and slipping back inside you. His hands went to grip your hips, as he began pounding into you.

“Mmm, I’ve been wanting to do this for so long,” he grunted. “Ever since you walked into my office. Wanted to bend you over my desk right then.”

He reached under you, using the pad of his thumb to play with your clit. You straightened up, as he continued to tease your clit.

“Fuck, I’m so close, don’t stop.”

“C’mon, then, cum, wanna feel you cum around me.”

Once again you felt that coil tighten, as you reached around and pulled his head down for another kiss. With a loud moan you broke away from the kiss as you felt the coil break and you came hard, gushing over his dick; your legs shaking. You leaned forward on the desk to hold yourself up as you caught your breath. 

He kept moving inside you, chasing his own orgasm. He soon pulled out and turned you around to face him, stroking himself. You knew what he wanted and you pushed him down into his chair and knelt in front of him. Taking his dick into your hands and stroking him, you licked up the underside and around the head, before taking the head into your mouth and sucking on it. You moaned around him, tasting yourself on his dick. He gripped the arms of his chair, leaning his head back while enjoying the feel of your mouth on him. You took more inside your mouth until you gagged and began bobbing your head up and down, your hand working the rest of his shaft that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. When you felt him push down on your head, you knew he was close. You picked up your pace.

“Shit, shit, fuck,” you heard him curse, before you felt his release, his dick twitching as  warm ropes of cum filling your mouth. 

You swallowed as much as you could, before licking up any that had dripped out of your mouth. Once you were sure you had gotten all of it, you looked up at him. He smiled down at you, and reached to pull you up. You stood and settled on his lap, resting your head on his shoulder. You both sat there in silence as he stroked your back with one hand, the other on your thigh. You nuzzled your face into his neck, your hand tracing lines on his chest.

You spoke first. “That was better than I imagined.”

“You’ve been imagining it?”

You nodded “Since the first day of class. How could I not?”

He chuckled, making you slap him lightly on his chest. You stood up and stretched.

“You about to leave?” he asked, getting up too

You turned to look at him. “Not unless you want me to.”

He bent to kiss you again as backed you into the desk, but instead of putting you up on it, he lifted you up. You wrapped your legs around him.

“Mmm, no, I’m not finished with you yet,” he said as he carried you out of his office into his bedroom. “Besides it’s a holiday so we have plenty of time.”

[auramgold]

On Acht and Romance

going into side order, from the september direct trailer where Acht was first revealed i remember the joke at the time clearly being "and now Marina's ex is here".

the way this line [image description in alt] was written was basically the only evidence for this kind of idea, when the theories were kind of "Marina's order tantrum is sucking people in from her past and the DLC will be about going through her memories", so ellipses in a line like this is basically all theory crafters on no info need to go for shipping.

i'm not one who's super into plot theory crafting, i know full well the tendency to theorize something that's cooler than what you actually get and being disappointed that the story didn't live up to your imagination. the things i was obsessed with in side order promotional material was the obvious bleached coral theme, the symbolism of coral ejecting it that which keeps it safe out of stress being mapped onto Marina, the idea of her pushing those she loves (and those that keep her colorful) away out of a spiral (and it does turn out that was basically exactly what the prologue was going for)

so the whole "Acht and Marina exes" thing was kinda just a joke to me, wasn't even on my radar as something they were actually going to lean into, frankly i was still scared nintendo was going to make them kill pearlina by sending Marina to superhell or smth and we'd end up with a splatoonified destiel meme

so when the DLC comes out and it is legitimately a "they knew each other since childhood" thing, and the running bit is Acht feeling awkward third-wheeling pearlina, and it's explicit in text that one of the reasons they're coming back after the DLC is over is to scope out Pearl as the girl who took down the NILS statue who is now dating Marina... it struck me as really interesting.

at first it was me keeping up the "Marina and Acht are exes" as a joke, but as i kept reading dialogue lines, it slowly became less of a joke, they were to some degree dating because opposite but complimentary autisms, and then drifting apart as Marina got pulled away on the big girl assignment with DJ Octavio, and then the despair of knowing Marina left without even saying goodbye to Acht... it fits well into that reading, it slowly became less of a joke to believe that

but the thing that really makes me think this is intentional subtext is the final Acht diary entry you get from clearing Eight's palette. through the rest of side order talking about Acht's backstory, it seemed like they were retconning the OE lore that Acht had gotten themself sanitized intentionally, losing themself so they could explore their music deeper. but in the final diary, where Acht directly says they drifted into the deepsea metro to fall into their music, because, and i quote

"Hey, Marina. You can guess the chaos your desertion caused. I ended up without much to do except make music. "

they fell into a depression spiral when their girlfriend deserted their society without so much as saying goodbye, falling into their music deep away from interacting with everyone else, to the point that, as the old lore implies, they chose to give up their identity to escape the depression, but sanitization so thoroughly did it that they forget even making the choice.

so when they get brought out of that haze back into being themself again, with the only the barest strung-together horrified memories of what happened in the half a decade interim gap in their life, only to find themself replaced by some inkling they don't know at all, of course they're gonna be awkward seeing the two flirting.

they put on a stoic face because that's clearly their coping mechanism within this damaged body they barely recognize, hiding their eyes behind their tinted glasses so they can't be seen beneath. but the only time they let themself be vulnerable, the only time their eyes can be seen, is when they charge out in the climax when the world is at stake, diving in to try to save Marina, leaving the elevator and its protection behind to help the only person they remember ever caring about.

it's why i don't really like the aroace reading that much, because i think this reading is even more tragic and fits into the themes. the world has changed, it can't go back to how it once was, you can't put the octolings back in the canyon bottle. Marina abandoned Acht to the point they got their identity destroyed willingly to escape the pain, and when Acht came back they were replaced by the inkling whose voice they remember even through the haze of sanitized memories.

the lingering effects of sanitization have changed how they relate to everything (i think there's a fair argument to be made for the idea that sanitization took their gender can't have shit in the deepsea metro), but Acht clearly still cares for Marina and still, the slightest bit, resents having to be reminded repeatedly every time pearlina flirts in front of them how they were replaced.

[wardenparker]

Summer Rose

Professor!Santiago Garcia x female OC Co-written with @julesonrecord

Rating: E for Explicit 18+ Word Count: 6k Warnings: OC is named (Daphne Antonelli) but has minimal physical description. Age gap 10+ years. Both parties are consenting adults. Alcohol consumption, mutual pining, professor/student, oral sex (f and m receiving), 69, sexy mythology references, vaginal sex, protected sex, fingernails/scratching, a bit of biting. Summary: Daphne is having an absolutely terrible day and has missed office hours to turn in her final paper to Professor Garcia. When she turns up on his doorstep to turn in her assignment, the professor she's been crushing on for ages offers her a supportive ear -- and help relaxing. Notes: A little collaboration between myself and my beloved Jules featuring a character we've working on (Daphne) and today's wet daydream of college professor!Santiago. Honestly this is just a bit of porn with the barest thread of a plot, and we're not sorry. Also, just a disclaimer that I have no clue how one finishes a masters degree, but it doesn't matter. We're here for the porn, not the threadbare plot.

Twilight is beautiful on campus. Santiago has always thought so, even before he had the letters after his last name that demarcate him as faculty. He enjoys the blush of the sun fading, the purple of the dusky sky fading to blue-black, indigo, then glitter with starlight.

He likes walking home after class this way; a quiet moment to ease his mind after lectures and before grading. This late in the semester, it will be one of the last walks before the summer term. As he passes through the quiet neighborhood and climbs his front doors, he glances up, spies Orion's Belt in the heavens. He thinks about introducing the story next time he holds his Mythology and Myth-Making class. Did he include it this year? He can't remember. He'd been... distracted.

His phone pings with a text as he sets his messenger bag on the dining room table and undoes his cuff buttons, rolling them up. Too damn hot for this, damn dress code rules... He peers down at the message, and notes it's from an unknown number. His students know to text him if they have an emergency, so he opens it straight away.

Hi, Professor Garcia. I know that it's after office hours, but the fact is...I missed office hours altogether. Would it be an inconvenience to call you and explain? Otherwise I'm not sure how to get my final paper to you. Thanks, Daphne Antonelli (Mythology and Myth-Making)

Santiago lifts an eyebrow. He recognizes the name. Oh yes, he recognizes it. In fact, he's called it to mind more often than is probably appropriate, along with the image of a very beautiful graduate student with a focused stare and drop-dead gorgeous eyes. She was an attentive student, responsive, ready to answer questions but never one to hog the spotlight, making insightful, empathetic, and razor-sharp questions. It was unlike her to miss anything, never mind not visit office hours. They'd spent many such visits over the semester. Short. Professional. Of course.

So why does his heart rate increase, his teeth sink into his bottom lip as he thoughtfully taps the phone screen, spelling out a careful, professional text?

Hi Daphne. As this is your final paper, I would really like to have it ASAP as I am required to submit grades on Monday. Why don't you swing by my home to drop it off?

Feel free to call, he types, then deletes before sending. He wanted to hear her voice. He did need that paper. No reason why he couldn't do both in person. No reason at all.

He had had his graduate students over for a spring dinner after midterms so they know how and where to find him. The bonfire that night had lasted for ages, as tipsy grad students who were feeling feisty with a full meal in their bellies debated the cultural implications of different myth origins and the similarities of some creation myths that they had just been discussing in class. Daphne had been amongst the students that night, animatedly defending her points with unmatched ferocity that was impossible to ignore.

The text that comes through a few moments later takes a while for her to decide on, judging from the continuously undulating bubbles indicating how long she was typing compared to the brevity of the eventual message.

Thank you for understanding. I'll be over shortly so the rest of your night isn't interrupted.

Satisfaction. He tosses the phone down and leans over the table with a slow sigh, taking a look around the room. The same old familiar wall-to-wall bookshelves line the tidy bungalow. The same pendant lamps up, tacky, that he'd meant to change when he bought this place... four years ago. His degrees might be hung in his office upstairs, his clothes are here, he shaves here, but who does he have here, really? Nobody. Warm sheets for a night and then no one. Nothing. There was no reason to bother, really—

And then Daphne. Daphne with her slowly blossoming smile that melted from shy to beaming when he said hello to her on campus. Daphne with her neat notes in the margins, Daphne with the legs that had so often been tucked primly next to his as they leaned over a book or paper together, never touching but so close, close enough so that he could smell her perfume: cinnamon, orchid, incense.

"Fuck," he mutters to the table. There's no way of hiding from himself, not really. He pushes off the wood and stalks to the kitchen for a beer. He cracks it open efficiently and takes a long swallow, Adam's apple bobbing. He wants her. That much is clear. How could he not? She was intelligent, fierce, gorgeous. He could fool himself all he wanted, her coming here was a bad idea. It's been a long semester, keeping her close but not too close.

But, he realizes with a jolt, she's about to graduate. This is her final, his course is over. He is... well, technically by Monday, no longer her professor.

"Fuck," he mutters again, this time to a magnet of a catfish, his only catch from a weekend out fishing with the guys.

It's twenty minutes later precisely when his doorbell rings. There was no sound of a car outside on the street or dramatic slam of a door, but when he opens the door there is a bicycle leaning against his front gate and a frazzled looking student on his front step.

"Hi, Professor." Daphne stands on his step with a mix of anxiety and embarrassment on her face and she digs into her bag right away to pull out a manila folder with his class name and number written on it alongside her name. "I'm so sorry about this. I know it's technically late and that you'll have to dock points for that. It's completely my fault."

"Hey, hey, easy." He lifts a palm and lowers it soothingly, taking the manila folder gently. "There's no need to be sorry, accidents happen." Then, as he knew he would, he asked, "Would you like to come in? It's the end of semester, though. Maybe you have a party you'd rather get to?" He smiles fondly, bumping his shoulder against the doorframe and folding his arms to show off his tanned forearms, shirt sleeves straining slightly.

Yeah, he's still got moves. And he wants to show them off. To Daphne. Who is no longer his student. Who's staring up at him with the anguish slowly sliding from her face. He wants to remove it, stroke her stress away with his thumb, ease it out of her slowly—

Fuck, he's screwed.

"I'm not really – I mean, I haven't –" She doesn't get invited to parties, is what she's trying to say. Not that she doesn't enjoy parties, because she does. She absolutely does. The night they spent here at his house just sitting around the fire talking and sharing a meal was one of her favorite graduate school memories. But she isn't great at socializing with the other students in her program, she's found. There is something a little odd about Daphne, and it has reverberated through her life to keep her just a little on the outside of normal.

Maybe that's why she nods, accepting the invitation with swallowed thanks, and steps inside her professor's house. Her professor who has more than a decade on her in terms of age but has never held his years of experience or knowledge over her head. If they were colleagues, she might have even considered him a friend. As it is, being his student, she's stuck in a sort of limbo with a useless crush and fond memories. "I've had kind of a crazy day," she admits sheepishly. "Even if I had been invited to any of the parties on campus, I don't think I would be going."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, Daph," he says, with real sympathy. "Is everything all right? I just opened a beer, would you like anything?"

"A pipe burst at my place and my landlord is claiming I'm liable, then my computer crashed in the middle of doing one last edit on your term paper and the tech office gave me grief, it's just...it's been a long day." She barely even nodded in agreement that a drink would be a huge relief, but he is immediately retreating to his refrigerator to grab her a beer. "Oh, and my summer plans fell through today." Her shoulders sag, the stress of the day dragging her down and determined to keep her there. "I'm just lucky I got up to take a shower first thing this morning or else the day would've been even worse."

"Oh, Daph, that's a rotten one," he says, placing the opened beer on the coffee table and settling his hands on her shoulders. "What happened to your summer? Surely you're going off to some incredible internship, you're more than qualified." And she is. He'd have recommended her to any program she wanted, and had, in fact, written her a letter of recommendation earlier in the year. "You know I'm not going to dock points, right?" he asks more quietly. "None of today was your fault, sweetheart."

Sweetheart. That shouldn't burrow into her chest and bloom into warmth like it does, and Daphne's eyes drop to the floor immediately to carefully focus on the toes of her boots instead of looking him in the face. That's your professor. Don't be creepy. "I had that internship lined up in London with the publishing company but they pulled the rug out from under me." She shrugs, feeling more vulnerable in the moment than she wants to admit. "Apparently the CFO's kid decided all of a sudden that he wants to be an author, so they rescinded my offer. He's going to get it instead."

His chest pangs. He hates that there is nothing he can do to fix this for her -- because she's right. That's the cherry on top of an extremely long day, and all he can do then is what feels most natural, which is to lift her chin up with the crook of his finger, his voice soft, gentle. "Hey."

When she meets his gaze, he watches them flicker slightly, scanning his face as he drinks in hers. Her eyes are so pretty. Like fresh honey dripped from a spoon.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he says again, and means it. "You deserve that spot, but you'll find something better, okay? Hey, look at me." She had turned away slightly, embarrassed or perhaps made shy by his praise, but her eyes fix on him again, golden and fringed with thick lashes. "I promise, you will. There's lots of ways into this world, and you're too talented not to break in. Okay? You want to sit down, tell me about it?" His fingers clasp around her delicate elbow, ready to guide her to the couch.

"There's not a lot more to tell, to be honest." Two people with two beers steer almost mechanically toward the couch, and Daphne finds herself being seated on his plush leather sectional just before he sits down beside her. This spring has been chilly and he still has a throw blanket out, which he pulls close to them as if to have it at the ready. "No summer in London means I'm going to have to either go back home and figure out my next step there, or find a new place here and do the same. Because I'm sure as hell not staying in the place I'm in now. As if the landlord weren't bad enough, now the plumbing is going."

"Huh." He trails his arm over the back of the sofa, sipping his beer thoughtfully. "What kinda guy is this-" Asshole, he wants to say, but quells it, "Fellow? Any chance he'll back off? Perhaps once he... calms down, he can be reasoned with." He's approaching the boundary of reason himself. He can see it, taste it, the drip of something sweet down his throat. "Beautiful woman like you? You could convince a man of anything."

The pffft sound that comes out of her mouth goes with a wave of her hand, but she does accept a sip of the beer that he's brought her with a grateful sigh. "The apartment is a piece of shit anyway, if I'm honest. I hate it there. It's just that it's affordable." There's a moment's pause where Daphne's eyes widen in panic and she deflates again with a groan. "I already put in my notice at my job, oh my god."

"Hey, hey, Daphne." He puts his beer down and reaches for her, wrapping one arm around her waist, cupping her flushed cheek with the other hand. "C'mon, it's going to be okay, I promise, but for right now, I need you to relax, okay? Can you do that for me, bebita?" They're so close now, almost nose to nose. He's lost in her eyes again, but he can feel the burning heat of her little cheek in his palm.

She had been so sure she was going to start crying instantly with that realization, but two searing hot hands on her skin steady her. His touch is grounding, pulling her away from the edge of panic and drawing her into his aura so effortlessly that she didn't even realize how close he was until she felt his breath on her skin. "O—okay—" He can't know that the thing keeping her from having a complete panic attack on his couch right now is the fact that all the blood in her body has rushed to her aching clit, but damned if it isn't working. Daphne nods vaguely, trying to keep her head from swimming, but all she feels is his hands on her and the way his coffee brown eyes have turned to oceans in front of her. "Okay," she repeats softly.

"Okay?" Santiago nods, his breath coming a little fast. "I'll help you. I'll help you relax, sweetheart. You tell me to stop any time, okay?" He leans closer so slowly, their breaths mingling. He can almost count her eyelashes. Her nose is sweet and soft as it brushes his, but it's nothing compared to her plush lips. They seal against his and he feels the world fall out from under him. Something deep and ravenous unlocks and spills out all over his inside. He barely chokes down a groan.

There is no doubt that this is the most surreal moment of Daphne's life, and it isn't as though she hasn't been in some weird situations before. It's a miracle that she managed to get her beer bottle onto the nearby coffee table without spilling or knocking anything over, but she needs her hands for this. For a year and a half she's been working on a master's degree and avoiding too much contact with the one professor who makes her mind fog up and her daydreams wander, until finally she had landed in his classroom.

And now on his couch.

Kissing him.

If it were anything besides the most surreal moment of her life, she might have jumped backward or at the very least, pulled away. But Daphne has imagined kissing Santiago Garcia far too many times to do anything but sigh in response and open up for him like a summer rose.

"It's okay," he repeats soothingly between kisses: to himself, to her, to the waiting tension in the room. "I've got you, cariño. I've got you now, there you go, so sweet for me. So pretty. Beautiful, smart girl." He deepens the kiss, tasting her lips slowly, reverently, one hand sliding slowly down her soft sweater to rest on her waist and squeeze gently. He brushes his thumb over the soft material and then flicks it open, wanting closeness, to drag his palm up her thin blouse, wide and slow across her back.

The sound that bubbles out of her is a plaintive moan, unsure but wanting, and one of her hands grasps for steadiness on his arm even as the other instinctively sinks into his curls to keep him close. The battle is want versus wisdom, and it takes longer than she's proud of for Daphne to drag her lips from his and pant for a breath that still has no prayer of clearing her head.

"But." The fog in her mind has settled thick and heavy like the arousal in her core, and even as she's trying to straighten herself out she's still clinging to him with digging fingers and sharp nails. "You'll get fired," she manages to breathe out a few seconds later. Her only real protest being that she doesn't want him to get in trouble over a whim – which is surely all this is to him.

"Baby, no, no," he shakes his head, almost laughing with relief that that is her only concern. "No, you're graduating. I'm not your teacher any more. You handed in your paper. We can finally do what I – what I've been—" Shit. This is going to sound so bad. "What I've been thinking about since I met you," he admits.

Santi leans his forehead against hers, sighing. "I'm sorry. It's so inappropriate, but it's true. I've been waiting so long to kiss you, baby girl. Let me kiss you." He brushes his fingers over her knee, lifting her skirt just a little. "Let me make you feel so good, my little nymph. Do you even know how long you've been haunting me?" His mouth brushes her again, gently, over the corner of her mouth, the edge of her jaw, the flutter of her pulse, which smells delicious, deep and floral, her scent.

His cock aches against his zipper.

"Fuck." This time Daphne groans, sinking further into the couch, and feels herself giggle softly in disbelief more than she's actually aware of making the sound herself. "You've been haunted?" She challenges, eyes burning with courage now that she's heard his confession. Heard him beg. Did he really just beg for her? "Do you know how long I put off taking your class because I didn't know if I could even concentrate around you?"

Using the opportunity of her gently reclining body, Santiago leans in for the catch. "I never could," he murmurs into the hollow of her throat, his hands sweeping her skirt up, revealing her pretty legs, and god her thighs, so plush and luscious in his hands. He takes a moment to stroke there, brush the hem of her panties with his thumbs. "Never. You came in with Eros and made me Apollo." One thumb slips gently under the gusset of her panties. "Are you running, little nymph, hm?"

"Fuck—I—no, I—I don't even think my legs work now," she huffs, all at once tense as a bowstring with desire and measurably more relaxed as the reality of the man she's wanted forever finally touching her exactly where she wants him.

Well, not exactly. But it's not going to take long to get there at the rate they're going.

"What should I..." Daphne's head falls back on the sofa cushion as his thumb strokes her slit and she moans. "Santiago is a lot of syllables to moan."

"Santi. You can call me Santi from now on," he murmurs, removing his thumb from her panties only to twist the thin white cotton things, Jesus, so fucking wet, around his fingers and slide them down, down. He tosses them to the side and shucks off her high heeled boots while he's there, his eyes locked on where she glistens for him, needs him. "But you can call out any god you want to, bonita." He flicks his gaze to hers and smirks. "Show me how much you were paying attention, yeah?"

If she can even remember a single name from his class at this point she'll be shocked, and the cool air of his house on her overheated cunt is enough to have her squirming instinctively underneath him. Her brain has pretty much given up the ghost already, overstimulated in the very best way possible far before the rest of her body feels the same. Although she has a feeling that it will get there. "Santi..." Trying it out, there is a sweetness on her tongue and heaviness in her core that really is just a whine waiting to break free. Daphne's hands have found their way to his shirt front, fumbling to free the buttons even while she's nearly shaking with desire. "If you get to touch me, I want to touch you, too."

His lips find hers again, almost impatient to taste her again. "You can touch me, I want you to," he mutters against her lips, lifting her blouse hem from her skirt as she takes care of his buttons. Santiago doesn't pause, doesn't make it easy for her or for himself, drowning himself in the touch of her, the sweet little noises emanating from her throat, the ones taking a running leap on the way to begging for everything he's ready to give. He lifts her shirt over her head and begins tugging down her skirt an inch at a time, his fingers dragging slowly over her hips, her now bare legs.

Nothing is exactly torn away, not specifically, but the pile of clothing that collects beside his living room sofa accumulates quickly and haphazardly — shirts and sweaters and everything else discarded blindly as they drown in kissing each other and swallowing those moans that make their way to the surface over and over again. With that building freedom Daphne finds a buried courage — not that she is a timid lover by any means, but there is an eagerness below the surface here that she hasn’t felt in so long. When the only thing left between them is the flimsy pair of boxers that do nothing to disguise how achingly hard he is, Daph bites down on his bottom lip to pull a groan out of him and soothes it away by sucking on the same spot as her fingers slip under the waistband of his last remaining piece of clothing.

"Fuck," he hisses, hips jumping forward so that the weeping tip of his cock brushes against her hand and he groans. He sits up straighter, caught in a web, aching to touch her – at least take his boxers off, fuck – but loathe to move away from her curious little hand. He settles for sitting up on his knees, staring at the place she's touching him, watching her explore him as though in a trance.

Taking advantage of the momentary shift, Daphne sits up along with him and nudges Santi backward so that he is on his back now instead of her. His curls are mussed and his eyes are so black with lust that he looks positively debauched before she’s even had a chance to touch him very much. Once he’s on his back, though, Daphne hooks her thumbs in his boxers and peels them away, groaning at the sight of him. Harder than diamonds and leaking precum like an eager teenager, a sly smirk rides across her face knowing she did that to him. “I want to suck your cock,” she admits, gaze flickering between his length and his blackened eyes. “You have no idea how many hours I’ve spent imagining sucking your cock under that desk in your office.”

Santiago closes his eyes a moment. Is he fucking dreaming? Or is his most fucked fantasy coming true before his eyes?

"Probably almost as many as what I've spent imagining what that wet little pussy tastes like." His voice is a low rasp, but he pulls himself together enough to halt her hand on his throbbing dick. His fingers squeeze around hers, gliding over the rigid shaft slowly, with control. His breath fans over her forehead. "You want this, baby? Hm? Gonna have to give me something in return. Come here," he urges, a low purr, her very own siren. "Come here and give me a little taste, cariño."

“Even Kama had to worship a lover in order to find his release,” Daph breathes, having spent an entire semester doodling images of the Hindu love god’s sugarcane bow and bird companions in her notes while thinking of all the various ways her professor could be worshipped.

"Kama was burnt alive by Shiva, sweetheart, and I don't plan on doing any different to you. Come here, that's it." Santi helps Daphne turn in his lap, both of them facing the wall. He guides her hips over his face as he lies back on the couch. Thank fuck it was big enough, for this and more, and then her perfect pussy is hovering over his face, tantalizing him. At heart? Santiago likes torturing himself, loves the thrill of giving into pleasure. Perhaps that too, is why he waited so long to take this girl into his bed. Perhaps that's why he's slow and sure as he spreads her lips, flattens his tongue, and tastes her indulgently, from clit to hole.

Daphne's momentary flash of composure is gone again as soon as he tastes her. Her legs shake on either side of his head, thighs pressed to his ears so her moans are muffled but it isn't on purpose. It's just been so long since she had a man between her legs who knew what the fuck he was doing that just having her clit noticed is a vast improvement. Daphne's body sags momentarily before she is shifting all her weight to one hand and wrapping the other around the base of his cock to stroke his base with the pressure that he showed her – the pressure he likes – while she takes as much of him as she can into her mouth.

When he moans it's with a growl into her pussy she can feel vibrate all the way up through her lungs.

She's not fucking sitting, and he knows it's because she's still, however minutely now that her moans are ringing sweet and clear across his living room, in her head instead of fully in her perfect body the way he wants. Licking up her slick almost lazily, he drags his nails lightly up the outsides of her thighs before firmly catching her hips in hand and pressing her into his waiting mouth, his evening stubble scraping across her folds. Only then does he give her a real reason to moan, encouraging her to grind while his laps at her clit with his tongue, filling his hands with all the gorgeous skin he can reach.

"Sit," he grunts, "Fuck, baby, I wanna to go to the field of fucking reeds with this pussy on my face, come on, you can do it, give it to me."

Come on, carińo, I know you can come for me, such a good fucking girl, he thinks, his brain a hazy lightning storm at the sensation of her hot throat squeezing around him as she swallows. Fuck, he could let her do this all night, but he's hungry for her pleasure and he's so close, he can taste it. Santiago lifts her hips with a final loud suck and trails a finger around her slit, teasing, almost pressing, but only just, his thumb running circles around her clit. With a deep breath he lifts his mouth, slips his tongue and a single finger inside, fucking into her with slow, measured movements.

The overwhelming pleasure of having more than just the tip of his tongue inside her pussy has Daphne moaning so earnestly that she pulls off of him cock with a lurid pop. "Dammit—I—fuck, I'm going to cum—Santi, baby, oh my f—" The shaking of her legs and the coil in her core twist down on each other so her thighs tighten and he breathes into her like he's going to devour her whole as she falls apart at the seams.

Oh yes. He really likes hearing her moaning that, but not more than the way she gives in as her orgasm rocks through her, grinding her hips down, into his waiting, eager mouth, helping her ride him through it until the aftershocks ease. His voice is barely a scrape when he lifts her up, his aching cock swinging between his legs as he presses forward, eager for her mouth. "Did so good, baby, such a good girl for me. I need to fuck you. Need to fuck you, baby. How do you want it?"

"Any way." Daphne gasps, trying to wrap her head around any kind of how that's more artful than just sinking down on him right here and now. When she does wrap her head around it, though, she groans in a less ethereal tone. "Let me grab a condom." Like any sensible, sexually active college girl, she carries one in her regular purse. Emergency cock wrap, if you will. She just never thought she'd actually need it.

"Wait, I got it." He scoots up a moment, digging into the small table beside the couch. From the drawer Santi draws out the foil pouch and rips it open, quickly rolling it on before turning his attention back on Daphne, who's watching him with drowned eyes, eyes deep and longing and still so lovely.

"Lie back, sweetheart. You ready for me?" He slowly glides the head over her silky wet folds, smearing her slick across his tip.

Deciding she absolutely does not need to know how many other girls have been fucked on this couch -- possibly at the end of their own courses -- Daph pushed herself up on her elbows to kiss him fiercely. Tonight is not to be wasted. Tonight is to be a fantastic memory. "I'm ready." Her nails drag down the base of his scalp, having caught a near purr from him earlier when she did the same. "I want you to fuck me, Santi."

Almost before his name is out of her mouth, he's pushing inside her with a low rumble, his head falling back slightly into her hands. Her nails scrape sensation over his scalp and down his spine, and her cunt is licking flames over him, so warm and perfect he almost comes right fucking there, but halts, breathing damp against her lips, his teeth nipping her lip possessively.

They hold like that, frozen together in the heat of the moment as he regains his composure and she adjusts to the stretch and fill and thickness of his cock inside her. The only movement, in this long moment of coming together, is the languid slide and tangle of their tongues together as they drown in the intimacy of feverish kisses.

Gradually, Santi comes down enough to get restless, eager again. He nips and bites down over her jaw and descends on her throat, sucking a mark low on her collarbone as his hands pay some long overdue attention to her pretty, heaving tits. Mine.

When the mark on her neck is soothed with his tongue, he sits up slowly, his eyes a glittering black, his lips parted. He looks like he's about to devour her. He takes one of her calves in his hand, eyes never leaving hers, tipping her knee up towards her head and then out, spread wide for him. He grips her ankle in a warm hand. Then, with a grunt, he's pulling back and pitching forward hard enough for their skin to clap obscenely, fast enough to make them both soon begin to tremble.

The position that he's in has him almost entirely out of her reach, just close even to graze her nails over his chest as he thrusts into her at a pace frantic enough to make them both pant and heave. Her back arches off the couch with a keen and her hands grapple with the couch cushions for purchase to hold on tight as Santi fucks her so deeply and insistently that she can practically feel him all the way up in her throat.

"Gripping me so fuckin' tight, baby, Jesus," he says through his teeth, his jaw tight, streaks of pleasure raking down his chest with her sharp, clinging nails. Keeping his relentless pace, he bends forward, pushing her thigh up, testing her limit. When he's low enough he seizes her mouth with his, grinding deep.

"One more for me, pretty girl, one more," he whispers huskily, his other hand skimming down her body to rub at her clit.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, so good baby, oh my fucking god—" Something in Daphne's mind short circuits, and the rambling begins in earnest the higher and higher she climbs toward a second orgasm. Tripping over her own tongue and throwing her hands up over her head as he slams into her so hard that either they are moving up the length of the sofa or the entire sofa is moving, Daph is completely lost in her pleasure. That volcano of pleasure building in her core is damn near ready to explode and the only thing she wants more than to erupt is to take him with her.

The second her expression breaks and she cries out for him, he's gone. He thinks he's done even before she clamps down on his cock like a goddamned vice, ripping his orgasm from him in a half dozen hard but increasingly languid strokes.

His upper body grows heavy, and with a groan he grinds in deeply just once more – never mind why – and leans his forehead on her soft breast, pulling out of her with a sigh. His entire body is basking, floating. If she puts her hands in his hair again he might even fall asleep.

There's a moment of quiet as he ties off and disposes of the condom, and for a split-second Santi disappears around a corner but he comes back with a warm, damp kitchen cloth to clean them both up with before curling back around her on the couch. "Goddamn," she huffs, giggling softly to herself as his arms come around her.

"Tell me about it," he says sleepily, flipping the throw blanket over the two of them as they settle, kiss, explore lazily what before had been greedily consumed. "Still not sure I'm not dreaming," he says, only half-joking, tracing her lips with a smile. "Did I really get so lucky?"

"I'm not sure how you're the starstruck one out of the two of us," Daphne teases, even though it's through a thin veil of honesty.

"Bonita, I've been increasingly starstruck all semester," he chuckles. "You have so much to look forward to. Shit, you're definitely going farther places than I am. I'm just happy to be here," he presses a kiss to her left tit, "To enjoy-" to her right nipple- "The satisfaction of being right." He kisses her forehead and studies her, his lids heavy. "Do you need anything before you fall asleep, baby girl? You wanna sleep here or in bed? I can't let you bike home this late, querida, so don't even try. Besides, you can shower here, my plumbing is fine." He smirks here, as if anticipating the swat he's earned himself.

"It's not that late." Daphne wrinkles her nose at herself. The protest was just good manners. She doesn't actually want to leave. She wants to wrap up in him and breathe in this comfort for as long as humanly possible. When he levels her with a disapproving look, Daph just ends up grinning. "Let's go to bed," she suggests, catching his lips as he drags them along her jaw. "And when I wake you up in the morning with my lips wrapped around your cock again, you'll be glad your back isn't sore."

The laugh bursts out of his chest with delight, easy and real. "All right, baby, all right, and what makes you think I won't beat you to it?" Santi pulls her to her feet, wrapping the soft blanket securely around her shoulders before guiding her upstairs with a hand at the small of her back.

No matter which one of them beats the other two it, they both know they aren't done. Whether it's a weekend, a week, a month, or even more. This night is just the beginning.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

[somedayillbepeterpan]

Finally, I am able to continue this series.

I started doing The Butterfly Ball analysis as a way to get it out of my head because it had burrowed deep inside my brain that it was rotting my thoughts (which still hasn't stopped).

To understand my ramblings fully, you can go to the other parts here:

Start here | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Here we go for: PART 5: BLOCKING AND WHERE COLIN WAS WHILE PEN WAS REVEALING HERSELF AS LW

I've decided to chop this part into smaller pieces too because when I started part 5, the whole thing was way too long for my attention span. I really am so sorry about the deluge of thoughts that I have for this scene. I'm half tempted to copy Sammy Bates and create videos but I do not have the same talent that she has. So, you're stuck with me and my barrage of written thoughts.

Anyway, Part 5.1 - The stage layout

We've talked about the shape of the venue. We've talked about the aesthetics of the event. We've talked about clothes. And we've talked about music and dances.

Now, let's get to the nitty-gritty of things. Let's talk about the blocking of the whole scene. To start it off, we have to understand the layout of stage.

Just for context, at one point in my life, I studied cinematography and I love movies so I get keyed up with blocking and camera angle choices.

To give importance to how important this scene is, sweeping/panning shots that is 360 degrees in motion with about 150, maybe 200 people, in one room is a nightmare in logistics. Every shot has to matter and every shot has to be reviewed and set up precisely. Most of the ball scenes takes 1 week to shoot because of how technical it is. There is an interview of Tom Verica talking about plotting the whole scene (I think it was the Vanity Fair one).

The particular weight of this ball is shown in how it's set-up like a centre stage. Even the lighting and the floor design draws your attention inward. Out of the three seasons' Ep 8 balls, this is the only one elevated and without anything disrupting the centre.

I've drafted a diagram to fully understand how the whole stage looks like.

**you guys are allowed to call me crazy after this post.

There are 4 major sides that I will call anchor points as we go around this layout.

Entrance (in between the two bug cages)

Side entrance 1

Side entrance 2

Ostrich feathers

One particular stand out for me are the pillars around the stage. The pillars hides and distinctly divides each of the 4 anchor points. While this might go past a regular viewers' head, someone looking for it (or a crazy person like me) will understand the significance of each anchor point. It helps easily assign people on each side and and use blocking (+ camera shots) as a great storytelling device.

These 4 anchor points become very important when Pen goes on stage.

Because every single one of it stands an important woman in Pen's life.

(going clockwise from the entrance) Anchor point 1: Prudence by the entrance

Anchor point 2: Portia by side entrance 1

Anchor point 3: Philippa (+ Albion) by the Ostrich feathers

and Eloise (next to Fran, Alice Mondrich, and Lady Danbury) right by Anchor point 4: Side entrance 2

I just loved that every time Pen turned around, there was someone for her to look at and ground herself. Because what she did, being vulnerable and exposing that part of herself she has kept hidden for a very long time, couldn't have been easy.

(We will get to Colin after the next post if you're wondering where he is in all of this).

I understand that some people were disappointed in how the LW reveal/fallout was portrayed but just for a while, let me help you appreciate that in Pen's most vulnerable moment, these women had equal parts surprise and awe on their faces as they watch their sister/daughter/best friend own up to her mistakes and face the Queen herself. And while we didn't get much out of them in the aftermath in terms of communication, it was still wonderful to know that in the end, all these women become/is important for Pen to fully embrace who she is.

I'm hoping to put all of these out every 1-2 days so I can finally move on to writing other things.

Next up: Part 5.2 The Queen and the bugs

[partypuppynastja]

When overuse of AGAB becomes transphobic

So, it's often said in trans circles that "we should never have let cis people know about AGAB as a phrasing", but I've lately encountered a few cis people not understanding why. So, a few points of note:

It sets up a new pseudo-gender binary that effectively imagines a world without trans people, "ok if it weren't for all this trans nonsense, what gender would you be then?"

It ends up being a woke dressing of TERF perspectives. AGAB becomes for would-be trans allies, what "biological sex" is for TERFs. Something simple, binary, and immutable. Whereas TERFs do not recognise that sex and biology are almost as complex as gender and sociology, would-be trans allies now skip straight to the same conclusion (and same real-world results of invalidation and discrimination) with different words and without being so science-denying as TERFs.

It creates false social categorisation rooted in presumed biological reductive essentialism. AFAB becomes shorthand for "people I think of as women and lump together despite their only point of critical commonality being a matter of dubious bureaucracy, usually decades ago", and likewise contrariwise for AMAB.

A penstroke decades ago is almost never, actually, what the speaker means to talk about. Please consider saying what you mean, instead.

"I've only ever been with AFABs"—the very use here shows how an adjectival past participle has become a stand-in for a noun, or else how could it be countable? Those people were assigned female at birth, they aren't assigned-female-at-births. Nor would "...with AFAB people" be a big improvement because it's just letting "AFAB" (merely a description of what was written on a certificate long ago) stand in as a placeholder for what a TERF would call "biologically female" (regardless of actual biological sex, because the assignation at birth is what's important to them too, not facts or real biology beyond a primary-school textbook level). So it's abusing the term already, and chances are you didn't ask your partners about their birth certificates, you just assumed.

"I didn't know AMAB people could lactate"—what you probably meant to say was something to do with anatomy or hormones, not bureaucracy. You must realise it's not a certificate that allows or disallows lactation, so figure out what you meant, and say that.

"I'm only attracted to AFAB people"—really? The certificate's the qualifying factor for you? Not their anatomy, not their hormones, not their general appearance, not their physique or genitals and even, perish the thought, their personality? It's the certificate that does it for you? Probably not. Just say what you mean, instead.

"Should AMAB people be allowed to... [thing that has female-only as its qualifying characteristic]?" again, is that penstroke the real matter at hand, or were you thinking about dicks, or extant/recent social roles, or something else? Just say what you mean in a way that refers to the actual people you mean.

Etc

One final criticism is that AMAB and AFAB have the same quirk as MTF and FTM when describing trans people—it centres that wrong gender for us. That M or F at/near the front there stands out and says "this is the bit we really need to focus on".

A TERF would say (with a degree of inaccuracy, but what do they know) that I am biologically male (tell that to dozens of hormonally-directed factors of my anatomy and physiology, but again, what do they know).

A would-be trans ally, slightly better-versed perhaps in how biology works, would instead dodge science entirely, and skip straight to bureaucracy, and call me AMAB. Why are you centring maleness like that? What has that to do with me? What is that "M" doing anywhere near me? Most circumstances, it suffices to call me a woman. Sometimes, it might be relevant to call me a trans woman.

Note: it does not mean that people who use AMAB/AFAB, or even MTF/FTM, are intentionally transphobic, and yes, some trans people will use those terms sometimes. What I am saying here is they're usually misused as a euphemism for something else, and almost always harmful in some fashion. Transphobia exists whether it's intended or not, and yes, sometimes it can come from inside the house.

And yes, sometimes it's just convenient, and occasionally it will really be what's relevant. But, especially if you're a cis person, please consider whether you're saying what you mean, or whether you're just euphemising an imprecise generalization.

Genuinely inclusive, non-invalidating, harm-minimizing language means sometimes using words that you might have been embarrassed to say as a child, and sometimes the context calls for it. Sometimes you really do mean people with dicks. Sometimes you really do mean people who menstruate, who have prostates, who have uteruses, who etc etc.

Note that in many of those cases, would-be trans allies might be quick to generalise inaccurately as "people with dicks = AMAB" (not true, not all people who were assigned male at birth have dicks, and not all people who have dicks were assigned male at birth), "people with uteruses = AFAB" (not true, not all people who were assigned female at birth have uteruses, etc)

tl;dr:

only babies are AMAB or AFAB. The rest of us are no longer "at birth". Consider updating re who and how the person is now.

AMAB and AFAB tend to be stand-ins for what TERFs would call "biologically male" and "biologically female". Consider not thinking about us the way TERFs do, just without the appeal to inaccurate misunderstandings of science.

AMAB and AFAB emphasise "M" and "F", and when applied to trans people, almost always backwards, and becomes misgendering with extra steps. Please don't do that.

What someone wrote on our birth certificates decades ago is almost never actually really the criterion for whatever you're talking about. Please just say what you mean, instead. Be brave (and as a bonus, you'll be more accurate and communicate better too).

[dreamyzhou]

I Swear I’ll Never Leave Again | Lee Juyeon

Pairing: childhood friend!Lee Juyeon x historian!fem reader

Genre: Angst + Fluff slow-paced contemporary non-idol au

Words: 6,300+

Warnings: one NSFW joke, a corrupt working authority, fraud from a big institute, Y/N is a wreck who can’t deal with overwhelming big emotions, crying, mentions of food and sugar, betrayal i guess (?), just the fact that it’s a fic of two idiots having complicated feelings and here they are trying to solve it, jealousy (?), fighting (not physically), Juyeon’s mom is called Auntie Sora, kissing, pet names

Inspired by: I Swear I’ll Never Leave Again by Keshi.

Premise: For a career that started with an unnecessary sacrifice of a special relationship with a childhood best friend, everything was going well. Until it didn’t. But for once, being involved in your nation’s biggest fraud scandal gave you a chance to fix everything.

[July 2016, Graduation Day in Liberty High of Gwangju]

Finishing high school felt like the closing of your childhood and happiness. You felt like you were closing a chapter of a book you didn't want to put down.

That day was going to be a crumbled sandcastle before it was even built. Not only was the idea of being your own responsibility scared you, but the idea of leaving home was painful to you.

Leaving home was not leaving a familiar place or leaving a tearful, yet proud family behind for college. It was leaving Juyeon.

You and Juyeon were the school's loyal students for 12 years straight in your generation. You both knew each other even before both your moms placed you in the same school. A companion since childhood who had your heart and placed it in a warm place. All it took for you to feel at home again... was him.

Telling your best friend of 15 years that you were leaving, a day before you actually do, making him process the fact that you were moving in no time, was a mean move. Not only that, you broke the promise you both made as children; that what you both had would be everlasting. You both promised, more than the swear under tangled pinky fingers, that even if you decide to leave your past behind or change identities, the only person you'd still call back was supposed to be him and vice versa. You both each had a designated Nokia flip phone with a SIM card that had no contacts but each other’s. The phones and SIM cards were stolen with a plan by the both of you from a device store run by an old uncle in an underground market back when you were both 13.

You knew the day of graduation would go bad. What you didn't know was that you still have the ability to worsen it.

Not only did you decide to put an end to an evergreen friendship, one that contributed to who you are and your happiness, but the way you ended it was in the way you knew Juyeon would hate so much.

You ended it by not going to the graduation day and leaving the city as Juyeon waited for you to throw your graduation caps together.

[Early 2020 | Seoul]

You were pursuing your Master’s Degree finally. Bachelor's distorted the idea of time as luxury. You wished having no time was a good reason to state why you missed important assignments. You wished that having “no time to do assignments due to the importance of the assigned person's sanity being the number one priority" was a good enough reason to excuse yourself. Yet at the same time, you wished you had time. Because you did not even complete your assignments, despite sacrificing lunch, dinner, and sleeping hours just for them. One time, when you were in your finding-my-circle phase, you talked to a few senior girls at the bathroom sinks. They gave you useless tips (That was how you knew they were definitely not your circle).

"If he doesn't wanna give you an A, F him." you remembered the automatic grimace you made.

You wanted to make it up to yourself. So when you saw a brochure at the library's promotional corkboard, you stayed to read it all. An exciting title written by a named institute from back home with very professional graphic designing skills.

We are hiring: Future's Hope for Education!

The nation's leading learning institute is looking for students majoring in

1. Archaeology (Undergraduate and Graduate)

2. History (Undergraduate and Graduate)

3. Military History (Only accepting Graduates)

4. Art History (Only accepting Graduates. Hired as conservator-restorer)

We are building a historical museum, aiming to educate the youth the importance of the past war to teach them about their future. Undergraduates who major in archaeologists and historians are accepted as interns. Graduates are hired as the major's profession.

Please contact us for more information.

Another big day, another big anticipation, another thing you wished you could tell Juyeon, another reason you regretted leaving him. You wished you could’ve taken him with you. Auntie Sora would’ve let him go with you. This was also another day where you hated yourself for still lying with yourself. Maybe all you needed was a time to reorganize your feelings. Maybe at the time you developed an unfamiliar feeling with Juyeon and it scared you, because it could’ve harmed him, yourself, and what you both had. You wished you knew that it meant romantic attraction and you wished you knew how to repress it to save everything you had. Now, you lost all of them; him, yourself, and what you both had.

[Late 2020]

You were doing splendidly in your job. The boss had always said your findings were always the 'fanciest'. You caught him joking from time to time about how much money the artifacts you've found would cost. He would say the museum would make his fellow (probably rich CEO-esque) friends jealous.

You and a few of your college friends were starting to spot weird behaviors from the son of the CEO, who you all referred to as your boss. He would scream and throw ceramic mugs at his own bodyguards (of which you were always curious why he had almost five of them guarding his door and ten for the whole building).

One day, Kevin (your college friend who studied Art History and worked to restore paintings there) was called to the office. You, Changmin, and Chanhee wished him luck through facial expressions.

Kevin came out of the office with a pale face almost zombie-like. All three of you noticed him running to the bathroom. He came back to his workspace and wrote something on three Post-It notes.

He packed everything on his table and his bag. When Chanhee and Changmin were whispering "What happened?" and "Talk to us!" You spotted your boss getting out of his office, and talked to one of the bodyguards.

That bodyguard was approaching Kevin as soon as the boss was in his office once again. You looked at Kevin with brows furrowed. Kevin beated the uniformed, muscled man to the exit door.

The three of you looked at each other, only to notice each one of your desks had one yellow Post-It note.

[As Working Hour Ended That Day]

The three of you decided to call Kevin after work in a café due to the heavy policy of no phones in that building. But before that, you three had to read his Post-It notes first, since all of you had so much work to do and your boss wanted it done by today.

All of you received different messages from the artistic guy.

"There's a number 2 on the top with blue ink. Then, he wrote Dark Groceries written in black. On the bottom, it says I have the job of the General. He's scaring me..." You and Chanhee saw the note as described by Changmin.

"Mine has number 1. And a drawing of a guy painting and next to it are two letters S and T crossed and drawing of a... printer? Below it says I didn't enlist but have no ER. The bottom said Hey I just met you and it's not a maybe. Chanhee, what did you get?”

"3 on top. He wrote sick and a plus sign. He drew an eagle next to it. Bottom has a drawing of a spool of thread with a writing D-day turns into T-Minus.”

"Gee. Since when can he come up with cryptic messages?" Changmin looked at the three green-coloured notes.

"Whatever, I think we should call hi—"

"Wait... I figured it out." Chanhee's milky face washed out and somehow possessed the same horror that Kevin had.

[5 minutes later]

(The picture is just for easier visualization. It was created with few editing skills and a little help from AI)

"Put all your notes, according to his number from 1, 2, and 3." Chanhee placed your sticky note on the table first as yours had number 1, then Changmin's, and finally his own.

"Read Y/N's first. He drew an 'artist.' Take out the letter S and T from the word, you get arti. It won't make sense unless you add the drawing of a fax printer, which I believe he wanted us to use only the word fax. So arti plus fax, meaning artifacts. So far, is that clear?" You and Changmin nodded.

"I didn't enlist but I have no ER. Guess what they call a person who enlist."

"A troop? A soldier? I don't—" Changmin said the one thing that came to mind.

"Correct. The I is removed and it doesn't have E and R. Final equation, sold. It says Artifacts sold. The bottom one, I figured, was left to be read last but still in the numbered order."

"What does he mean artifacts sold?" You asked Chanhee.

"That's where number two comes in. Dark Groceries. Dark obviously means Black. Do you know where we go for groceries?"

"Holy hell..." that was when all of you knew how scary all of this was.

"Third, sick is the synonym for?"

"Ill... so with the eagle..." You looked at Chanhee, hoping what you pieced wasn't true, he only nodded while clenching his fist around his hair. Changmin reacted as if life turned 180 degrees on him, and to be fair, it did. Your body was so weak that your lungs forgot to do its automatic job.

"Illegal... What about the bottom texts?"

"Yours said Hey, I just met you and it's not a maybe. It might be referring to the song Call Me Maybe, but he doesn't want to say it with maybe. Changmin... I'm not sure what a general does, but I've seen Hollywood movies and as far as I know they're there to strategize, right? I don't know… Miss military historian, do you copy?"

"Affirmative, and you are right, this means Kevin has a strategy? Might as well meet him in his flat now! Let's go!"

"No. Stay. The third bottom text told you why you should call him instead."

"What is it?"

"A thread, D-day turns into T-minus? My best bet is that he meant the letter D in thread turns into T." You cursed in your head, feeling a little helpless.

[The call]

"Listen to me, the three of you, do not panic, okay? There are only 3 things you all need to do to quit without being threatened that they will watch you everywhere. One, play along and comply. Agree to whatever they say. Hell, act like you agree that artifacts should be sold. Two, each of you need to quit on different dates, each of you need to quit long enough not to make suspicion after the first one."

"Wait, I don't get the second one-"

"So say Changmin quit on February 2nd, Y/N will follow by quitting on February 20th. Chanhee, well that guy can stay all he likes—"

"Stay on track, man from maple-leaf land. Don't kid around with this stuff!"

"All right, you get my point. If they ask you why you leave, never act like you know anything about their selling stuff. On the other hand, if the man starts to promote you... That's when you're in a dangerous trap. Because at this point, he will start telling you about the dirty work and making you do them. Threatening you things such as if you tell anyone, they will come after you. Just say you'll consider it, but you won't answer now."

"This is wrong... I think all of us need to be whistleblowers..."

"You mean we should tangle ourselves a little bit to the danger just to gather evidence and submit them to the police. Next."

"I don't see why it's a bad idea. They're breaking a very big law." Changmin said.

[May 2021]

The Sentinel Post

A Nationally-Approved Conglomerate Illegally Sold Artifacts in Underground Auctions

The Citizen Speech

The Country's Biggest Institute of Learning Hide Behind the Education Facade to Gain Dirty Money

The International Paper

South Korea's President Demands Full Punishment on Those Responsible for The "Military Museum" Scandal

"Breaking news, coming from FOX News here, we are looking at probably the biggest fiery situation currently going on in South Korea. You know, Reggie, the other I just babysat my nieces who apparently listened to K-pop. I must say I'm impressed by the hype, they did it all with music and all of their culture is more interesting than those we have here in America, but now..."

"Hmmm, I don't know, Jeanette. The hype around the Asian country might be tanking soon with the museum scandal going on."

"These Americans are so fuc—"

"Chanhee, no swear words. We need to cool our heads down and getting triggered by them won't help."

"Y/N's right, Chanhee. Tomorrow's Supreme Court, we deserve to turn off the TV and drink beer tonight." Though, you know Changmin was also scared of what the media were saying.

Another scary day, another worry, another thing you wished you could tell Juyeon, another reason you regretted leaving him.

[Summer 2021]

With the four of you becoming the loved-hated people of the country with everybody recognizing you in the streets if you don't wear your masks, everything becomes overwhelming. Despite being thanked as whistleblowers and people who 'believed that justice needed to be served,' there are people who came up to the four of you, saying that you 'were too gullible' or 'too desperate for money that you had to fall for that.'

The four of you were hired by the government as "the nation's way to say gratitude" (A western article headline once said) to work in the National Museum owned by the government themselves. Interpol made a deal with the four of you, ensuring all of you safety wherever you go and money enough to cover each of you everything, even your retirement. As long as all of you work along with them to gain back every artifact sold.

Now all of you reunited and shared a flat that you all bought. The flat only had four floors. The ground floor is not much, just some stairs with locked security PIN and a door to a room for some police officer whose authority believe all of you are, and will always be, in danger. Anyone had to punch in the code to go up to the stairs and meet a wide wooden door enough for 3 people lined up to go through simultaneously. Inside would be a living room and a spacious kitchen with two doors leading to Chanhee's bedroom and Changmin's, and also another set of stairs leading to the third floor, which only had your room, Kevin's, and a guest. The top would be a balcony.

You thought about it everyday. How lucky that lot of people believed you are not a bad person. That the Supreme Court was right not to charge you or put you in jail for anything even for petty things like breaching company's secrecy and confidentiality or overall just being in the mess of the scandal. How you get to enjoy a big, yet enough apartment with the company of your brothers. Your parents told you everyday that you've become a 'big girl' now. You and your three loud friends told each other that it was not their fault (though, they may say otherwise to themselves too). However, as a historian who was once tasked by the now orange-suited boss to recover Korean soldier's belongings, you felt responsible. You thought about the things you recovered everyday. Love letters to their wives and kids, prized possessions, torn pictures, and marriage rings.

That was why you agreed to the Interpol deal.

You had to, so that you could forgive yourself.

[Winter 2022 | Unsent Love Letters no. 115]

From May 2021 until Fall 2022, the government had attained almost 500 collections that only Chanhee, Changmin, and you collected (Kevin had another job in the National museum). All that because the other 7 historians who were hired in the secretly-illegal project (those you don't know the names of anyway) weren't brave enough to involve themselves with authorities and help out after what happened. So the three of you had to clean up their mess too. Job opportunities went better for the three of you as the world heard that all of you had been involved with the government to gain back the things illegally put on sale. So one lesson you learned from the journey was that don't be cowardice, take your second chance to do the right thing, and if you have to, let the anger be the motivation to that.

Though, the good news was that 487 of those were all that were needed for the project to be finally done. However, 156 of them needed to be given back to whoever inherited them or needed to be asked for museum display consent.

"Y/N, come to my office."

You tailed your boss to his office, closing his creaky wooden door with the sticker 'Dr. Ryu's Workspace'.

"I'm sending you home to Gwangju."

You didn't even know what it meant yet, but the statement stunned you.

"I'm sorry, sir... Am I fired?" He gently chuckled, shook his head, then dropped his gaze to the wooden floor.

"No. I'm sending you there for three reasons. First, there is a bundle of unsent love letters, we numbered it Object 115. I need you to deliver it to the owner's widow. Second, I checked your records and history. You haven't left Seoul since 2016, never went home since then too. Why?" You were bewildered with the sudden detailed knowledge your boss gained. You didn't even know you've been staying in Seoul for 6 years.

"That's... personal."

"That's enough to tell me you need rest. I mean 6 years, tied to a scandal you didn't know would turn into a national drama, must've tired you out, no?"

"I mean, yeah, but—"

"And, three... Because there's a letter to me from someone from Gwangju, there was him in a photo you had together. He wanted to talk to you." Your brain was swirling in a whirlpool of suspicion and confusion.

"Well... who is it?"

"That's... personal."

"What the-"

"Not for me, but for the guy. He said he'll visit you there."

"Doc, I appreciate your concern regarding me, but I'm not going—"

"It's an order, not optional."

[3 days later, 2022 | Gwangju]

You took a taxi immediately to the address of Object 115's owner. With two suitcases packed for 3 months (mandatory) leave, you left the taxi in front of a suburban house with a wide green grass field, piled up with 5 cm thick of snow You walked with the gravity pulling your hand along with the suitcases, feeling your shoulders yearning to detach itself from the rest of your body. Who even thought a field of 15 meters in front of a house was beautiful enough to keep? Wouldn't it be inconvenient for the elderly woman owner of these love letters to bring monthly groceries inside? Look at the field, no one raked the snow in a while.

You placed your belongings beside you on the wooden porch, where you saw a golden retriever chained to the fence. The dog wagged its tail when it saw you, as if it knew you.

You thought the dog was familiar.

Juyeon had a dog when he was 17. A golden retriever puppy, named Robu. He asked you to name it and you said 'Love' but he thought you said 'Rob'.

The dog began whining at you, and sat up straight, looking at you with puppy sparkle eyes.

"Robu! What are you whining at? I—" a woman, maybe, around her sixties opened the door.

"Y/N?"

"Hi, Auntie Sora?”

[-.. --- -. .----. - / .-.. . .- ...- .]

"I think Juyeon could go home anytime with his grandma. Those letters belong to her husband." You took in the sight around the living room, while petting Robu who sat beside you on the sofa. They moved away from the street near your school to the outer area of the city.

"Oh... yeah... thanks." Auntie Sora was on the leather couch, sitting beside you looking at you with an unrecognizable feeling. Maybe it was because you didn't know how to feel either.

"What brings you back, Y/N?" There was a sympathetic smile, as her cheeks wrinkled, showing you that same love she still had back when she considered you the daughter she never had.

"Just... this letter I needed to give Mrs. Lee—"

"You would do that, but you wouldn't come back to Juyeon?" You could tell she was trying to understand you. She wasn't going Mom mode on you and being protective of Juyeon. You sighed, appreciating the effort it must've taken after hurting her son.

"I had to. I was told to go back to Gwangju on paid leave for 3 months, and I may not refuse. After everything, I mean this doesn't sound bad. At least that's what I thought, when I planned not to see Juyeon at all." The door opened and a wheelchaired woman pushed her wheels forward, as somebody was heard closing the door behind her.

"Sora! Darling! Juju and I bought groceries. Look at this boy, picking his old nan from daycare. Got all the nurses wanting him!" the elderly laughed coarsely.

"Granny!" groaned the boy behind her.

The moment they faced the living room from the foyer, everything turned into slow motion. The uncomfortable heat of embarrassment running in your veins. The guilt spasming your muscles. The way Auntie Sora's presence left your side. The sight of Juyeon freezing, turning pale as he tried to remember to breathe.

"Oh! Who is this nice-looking lass? Have you eaten, dear? I baked some cookies this morning with my daughter, Sora. It's Indonesian, I believe? It's called 'Snow Princess'. Juyeon, my grandson here, said to make it every month so that he can share it with his best friend back when he was in elementary school. Apparently, she loved it so much! I wished I could meet her—My grandson said she hated him now, so that's why she ran away from town. But Juyeon still loves it, though not as much ever since then!"

You tried to look at Juyeon's eyes, acting like you just acknowledged an unfamiliar guy in his family’s house. He just stared at the floor with lips shut. Arms folded as he leaned to the doorless entrance to the living room.

"I- Um- No- Uh- Thank you, Mrs. Lee, but I've eaten too much sugar today!"

"Oh, you know 'snow princess' cookies? Yeah, I believe sometimes the powdered sugar coating could be overwhelming. You’re very good at habit control, dear! It has been rare seeing those in people. I’d eat the cookies everyday and I would still annoy my endocrinologists." She pushed her wheels near you to talk to you more as her old soul laughed satisfyingly. She was about to initiate another topic, but you couldn't handle whatever was going on. So, you talked first.

"Mrs. Lee, I'm here to return your belated husband's letters."

She was startled with what you just said. You could tell from how her trembling wrinkly hands turned into a frosty statue. Then, she looked at you with relief in her eyes.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for someone to say that.”

[3 hours later]

“Thank you for coming and delivering these to me. He was always excited to name my daughter. I never met him again after he died when I was 7 months pregnant with Sora. We’ve always thought to name the child Sora if it turned out to be a girl or Juyeon if it was a boy. Turns out, I didn’t have the heart to remarry, so when Sora and her husband had a son, his name was Juyeon. It’s a big relief to know that I named our child based on an agreement that we couldn’t execute through any communication at all. Hell, he died before he even gotta tell me he wanted the name to be Sora. He died not knowing our child’s name was Sora.” She wiped her tears with more tissue sheets.

“My pleasure, Mrs. Lee…”

There was a heartwarming silence as you witnessed the hug that Mrs. Lee and Auntie Sora had. One that moved your heart. It was a silence that deafened your eyes from the noise of people’s opinions of your 6 years old historian career. You realized that for once, whatever you were doing, it didn’t only have an impact on you. It was people like this, who gave you a view of the importance of executing your job with the best manner.

“Mrs. Lee and um— Ms. Sora,” without even looking at her, you could tell the honorifics confused her. “I should go home for the night. Thank you so much for welcoming me. I hope you both have a good night.”

You bowed to both of them, then they offered you to bring food from their kitchen like their homemade kimchi and of course, ‘Snow Princess’ cookies.

“No, thanks… I had too much already.”

“I’ll walk you out.” That was the first time Juyeon tried to look at you with the biggest effort to lift his lip corners.

You walked to the foyer, alongside him. You wore your shoes quickly and took the two suitcases you left beside the shoe rack. He followed you behind, opening the door for you. As he closed it behind him, he took the suitcase you held in your right hand.

“Are you going to your parents’ house?” he looked at you, cracking a gentle smile.

“No. They sold it and moved to the other end of the city.”

“Oh no, I know that. What I meant is will you go to that house they’re currently in?” You looked at him, trying to hide every guilt and embarrassment.

“...No. I don’t really want them to know I’m here. I, uh, was about to check in on Four Seasons.” He looked back at his mom’s house, then to his car.

“I don’t mind taking you there. Our house is pretty far from the central area anyway.”

Oh, lord have mercy.

[Sunset | Red light intersection at near Liberty High of Gwangju]

There was an awkward silence in the car. The silence felt like an uncomfortable noise. You wanted to find the source and stop it. However, everything was the source. Whatever you do to stop this silence was not going to make it better. Act like everything was fine? Nothing was. Act like nothing is fine? Could’ve worsened it.

“You sent the letter to my higher-up, didn’t you?” He chuckled a little as you faced him.

“Glad you still know me well after six years…” The red light turned yellow. Then, green.

“What’s up? Is there something important to tell me?” You tried to speak gently, in a friendly manner.

“Yeah, I swear it’s important enough that you had to come back and hear it from me.” Okay, that hurts more than it should.

“Oh… Okay… what is it?”

“I’m getting married, Y/N. You’re invited.” He looked at your eyes for a second before going back to the road.

You looked at him, feeling whatever he said froze you colder than the snow. Then, something just tickled the inside walls of your stomach, generating this uncontrollable giggle.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing… Just…” You tried to control the tears with your convincing laughs, “Who is she?”

“You’ll know, eventually.” He smirked as his eyes stayed focused ahead.

“You’re not gonna tell me?” You scoffed, expressing half of the offense you’d taken. He shrugged, still not wanting to reciprocate the eye contact.

“Why should I, though?”

“Because I’m your best—”

“No, you’re not. You’re invited as an old high school acquaintance.”

He stepped on the brakes as another red light made an appearance, letting elementary kids from Liberty High of Gwangju cross the road tailing the school bus driver like little ducklings following their mama duck. That was when he looked at you with eyes you didn’t recognize. Eyes that didn’t feel like it belonged to Juyeon’s. Those eyes had a view of flames of anger disguised in the sea of calm.

“Oh…” Those icy eyes and inferno in the rest of his facial features was an unfamiliar look on him. “Okay…”

The car took a left turn. You knew it took just another kilometer to reach your hotel, but the tension in the car tightened your airways. You badly wanted to cry and you had no clue why.

“You can drop me off here. In front of the 7/11 store, I can just walk from there.” You pointed at the store 5 short buildings away from the car.

“No. It’s been a heavy snowfall lately. Besides, it’s quite a walk to the Four Seasons.” You faced him, coughing out a bitter laugh.

“You don’t mind an acquaintance’s request, don't you?” He looked at you. Clenching his jaw, intentionally showing the visible anger he never had the ability to show.

“You have no right not to let me marry another person. Not after I let you go, despite you not giving me a reason to move on. Do you understand me?” His voice lowered, almost generating a growl.

“This is not about whether or not I let you marry another girl, Juyeon.” You whispered.

He took a second to look at your tear-glazed eyes.

“Then… what?” He calmly asked as he stepped on the brakes in front of the fancy hotel.

He stopped his silver Hyundai Ioniq, gave his keys to the valet driver. You exited the car, opening the back of his car to take your suitcases, shutting it again. As the valet driver took off and did his job, you came back to Juyeon, ignoring the greetings the uniformed hotel staff gave you.

“I just…” You realized; you didn’t know what it was about, either. So, you lied. “I just want to know her name.”

He looked at your eyes, getting closer. Trying to search for something in those eyes that were trying its best not to burst and pour all her tears.

“You know… I only need you here not because I wanted to make you feel miserable or to rub it on your face that I’ve moved on from what we’ve had.” He paused before taking your suitcase from your left hand and placed it on the floor. He took the empty hand and looked at it before closing it into a fist.

“I just wanted to be in peace with you before another person eventually replaces your specialty. That’s what you wanted, right? Not to be special in my life anymore?”

[Midnight, 01:34 AM | Gwangju, but not home]

You were hurting, physically over an emotional moment that you had encountered. You were lucky the only person having a room on the floor you were at was you. You were hugging your knees looking at the Gwangju sky as your chest heaved for more oxygen, a downpour of tears on your cheeks.

The worst part? He was right.

You trapped him in a pit of pain, making him face everything alone. Leaving him for no reason. You had put him through hell and all that, because you had been in love with him.

Somehow, he managed to escape and made you fall in the same pit.

After gazing at the stars of the Gwangju sky, every tear representing each of them that appeared, you looked down at the brown suede suitcase you brought. You walked away from the bed, opening the suitcase, finding anything that had the ability to clean up the mess on your face.

Until, you saw a black Nokia 2720.

[03:21 AM | The hidden playground only the both of you knew about]

He was there already with his black hoodies and gray jeans. You walked to his side with your head hung low, looking at the rusty carousel he was focusing his sight on.

“Nothing in this town became lively as you left. Not this playground. Not the house you sold. Not me. Not even my mom who was worried about me.” He turned his head to the right, looking at you with serenity.

“You were not the only one who wanted to leave town and forget the other.” You took a breath until you inflated the lungs a bit too much, almost like a balloon on the verge of popping. It was the only method you know to make sure you got enough oxygen for your brain to think straight.

“Juyeon… The reason why I left you was because I thought my feelings would scare you.” He furrowed his eyebrows as his hands stayed in his pockets.

“I didn’t know how to tell someone that I was in love with my own best friend, because usually it would be you who knows everything about me first. Sometimes, I don’t even have to tell you and you know… How could I tell you I was in love with you without hurting everything we had?” The frown on your face started to cramp your cheeks, the tears burned your skin.

“We both had nobody but each other. I didn’t want to befriend someone just to talk about you as my crush.” His eyes softened.

“God, Juyeon, I could never hate you. If I do, I’d make you the one to leave the city.” You let out a sad chuckle.

“I didn’t even know the feeling I had back on Graduation Day was romantic attraction. Now, here I am. Will never be forgiven by you. Will never get the chance to love you the way I want to. Will never be special to you again. Will never be trustworthy. I changed you, but that was because you don’t know who I become anymore. And to be frank with you,” You choked on your cries along the words. “I don’t either.”

“I’m sorry, Lee Juyeon. I’m sorry that I ruined everything. I’m sorry I was scared. I'm sorry that I love you so much that the love I had for you scared me enough to run away from the person I was willing to give my love to. I forgot that it could've hurt you too."

You dried your tears with the right sleeve of your knitted cardigan. Then, you covered your mouth with it to reduce the sound of your cries.

“Y/N…” Juyeon brushed off your hand from your face, grabbing your face to get a clear look on you.

“You should’ve told me. I feel the same.” You still let the tears flow.

“Y/N, do you know why Dr. Ryu gave you three months?” You shook your head.

“I wanted that much time to make you give me a reason to move on. Deep down, I never moved on and I don’t want to. I still feel the same way and I still want you. But if you did let me go, then the only way to shut me out for good is for you to tell me a good enough reason why you quit on me… I never got down on one knee for anyone, Y/N. I only imagine it’d be you.”

[ January 15th 2023 | The ‘98 Flat, Seoul ]

“I’m confused though…” You smiled at him, wondering something as he sat down next to you on the sofa.

“What is it?” He asked you, looking at you full of adoration.

“Why not let me go? What I did was cruel…” He didn’t even take a second to think about the answer.

“You were the companion of my life for 15 years. I knew that when you left me, it didn’t mean you let me go easily either. I still know you, Y/N. You are never cruel.” You leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Cake’s ready!” Changmin yelled as he went to the dinner table with the cake he made.

“Happy birthday, Juyeon!” You sang along with your three friends. Kevin shut off the light, Chanhee lit the candles on the cake, then you called Robu to come along with you.

As Juyeon made his wish and Chanhee took some photos, you looked at him with all the joy in your heart that you never felt before. There was this satisfying feeling of recovering everything you lost, but also getting more than just that. You finally had the man who made you happy and he never failed to make you even happier than yesterday. He opened his eyes and he blew the candles. As the lights turned on again, you got closer to Juyeon.

“Happy birthday, love.” You smiled before your lips touched his. It was slow and warming like a lit candle was inside you, not burning the walls of your heart directly with the fire, but warm enough to give an impact.

“Thanks, honey.”

“Alright! Today a package came in the mail from Juyeon’s mom. Here it is!” Changmin took out a present from a red bag.

“Happy birthday, kiddo! Enjoy life with the boyz, Y/N, and Robu! Granny and I love you lots! Awww, it’s the cookies you like, honey!” You saw the ‘Snow Princess’ cookies with the heart-shaped packaging.

“We got you these expensive gifts, because you look like an expensive man. Prada belt from Changmin, Chanel perfume from me, and—wait, what is—Did Kevin just buy him riddles flashcards?” Chanhee screeched.

“Brother, ugh—”

“Wait, what’s wrong with—”

“BROTHER, UGH!”

“HELLO, SOMEONE EXPLAIN WHY—?”

“Military Museum scandal PTSD, here we go again!”

Juyeon had his eyes on you the entire time. His wish became true even before he even made it; That from then on, he would have you in his journey with hands held forever until you actually do have a good reason to let him go.

[avacoleman]

when the lights go out || a firstprince fic

summary: Henry Fox’s career is in crisis and his dating life isn’t faring much better either.  After a chance encounter with a charming man becomes memorable for all the wrong reasons, Henry throws himself into his next assignment: writing the memoir of a beloved C-list actor. Henry, however, knows Alex best for the role he played as his random, awkward one-night stand. Henry enters their professional partnership keen on keeping their relationship just that. But after Henry confesses that their hookup was less than spectacular, Alex concots an arrangement that Henry is unable to resist. In addition to ghostwriting Alex’s life story, Henry will teach him a thing or two about satisfying a man.  As they spend months out on the road together, they must decide if the connection between them is yet another story worth telling.

@strandtk my beloved. this one is for you 💜💕

chapter 1/8 || rated e || read on ao3 *updates every tues. and fri. *

I'm writing it down on the paper Making a record, like an archive of me and you So when we're reading it later,  It'll all come back brand new

New York, NY

Henry marvels at the universe’s capacity for pettiness as he sits at the bar with his signed copy of a book he’s written that doesn’t actually bear his name

He downs the rest of his gin and tonic, his face tightening slightly at the burn of the alcohol coating his throat. He licks his lips, savors the last taste of his drink, and tries to map out in his mind where to go next.

In every sense, he thinks belatedly. His career, this specific night, it all seems to be up in the air and he worries about where he’ll be when it all comes crashing down over him.

Henry lets out a sigh, his index finger tracing the circle of the glass’s rim absentmindedly as he stares at the book he just purchased at the signing nearby. 

The front cover seems to mock him. He stares at the wide grin of the latest internet gaming sensation with a rabid fanbase clamoring to have his story immortalized in written word. It’s the latest in a recent string of ghostwritten works Henry has penned that have sucked his soul more than nourishing it.

This wasn’t at all the future he imagined for himself when he graduated from university a few years ago with a degree in creative writing, ready to take on the world.

He glares back at the book, almost in defiance, before grimacing.

“Whatever it is you're reading, let me make a note not to add it to my TBR list. If it’s got you looking like that, I should steer clear at all costs,” a voice says to the left of him.

Given the relative emptiness of the bar and the specificity of the words, Henry knows this statement can only be directed at him.

He bites back saying that technically it’s his book, if only just not his life story. The NDA was ironclad, and spilling his secrets to a perfect stranger while in a slightly buzzed state is hardly the big finish to his career that he had in mind.

He turns toward the voice and startles for a moment, struck by just how good-looking the man seated two stools away is. He catalogs details of his new barmate:  a mess of unruly curls, wire-framed glasses, and a frenetic energy that both intrigues Henry and puts him on edge. It crackles in the very air, making Henry instantly disarmed.

But it’s the man’s mouth above all else that Henry can’t seem to tear his gaze away from for more than a few seconds at a time, especially as the stranger smirks as if they’re old friends reuniting at random.

That most certainly is not the case.

Henry knows for a fact he’s never seen this man before. He’s got the kind of face and aura that no one would be unable to recall at once, the kind a person would never be able to forget.

“It’s expected to be an instant bestseller, but we’ll just have to wait and see the list next week,” Henry says, finally finding his voice.

The man lifts his brows, conceding the point. “I’ll put a pin in it for now, then, while the jury’s still out.”

Henry smiles softly and pushes the book aside, ready—in every measure—to be done thinking about the book and talking about it. 

He’d much rather set his focus on this man he’s somehow had the fortune of ensnaring in conversation.

Henry perks up a little in his seat. He notices a lanyard around the man’s neck and points it out.

“I take it you’re visiting,” he says, gesturing to the lanyard that disappears under his jacket.

The man places a hand to his sternum, where the corresponding badge must be tucked away.

“Yeah, I’m here on business. I had an all-day convention, but this is actually my last night before I head back home tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Henry says, surprising himself by how this life update of a man he’s only just met hits him.

“You sound disappointed,” the stranger says, that knowing smile painting his lips yet again. Henry thinks it must be something of a trademark for this man. He can only imagine how many people he’s been able to lure in because of it, perhaps without even trying.

“I’m…I don’t know the word for it. Perhaps disappointed will have to suffice.”

The stranger’s face grows a bit serious. He moves over one stool, then the other, bringing them just that much closer. 

Henry, for his sake, fiddles with his empty glass to keep himself busy. It strikes him then just how backwards this conversation has been so far.

“I’m Henry. And you are?” he asks, extending a hand. 

It feels like such an old-fashioned, antiquated thing to do. He’s not at all surprised by the man’s hesitancy, but an almost skeptical look shimmers in the stranger’s eyes for a beat before he takes hold of Henry’s hand and shakes it.

“Javier,” the man supplies before letting go.

Something settles in Henry’s chest at finally having a name to put to this face he wants to see more of— and perhaps do other things with.

“Javier,” Henry repeats. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

Javier smiles warmly at him, and Henry cannot believe how much a small thing like this is making his heart race. But this connection he feels to this man is so unlike anything he’s ever experienced before. Certainly, he’s come across attractive people over the years, but there’s some kind of familiarity with Javier, an ease, that makes this feel right.

They pass some time chatting about surface-level things, cracking jokes over two more rounds of their respective drinks. Henry learns that Javier is from Texas and works in sales. He, in turn, reveals the not-so-secret fact that he’s from England, but also that he’s been living here for six years after coming to the States post-university and is a writer. Conversation seems to flow as easily between them as liquor does into a shot glass. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” Javier asks after about forty minutes, abruptly curtailing their conversation.

Henry opens and closes his mouth, taken aback by Javier’s forwardness and intrigued all the same.

“I know, I know, that sounds like a total pickup line, but I truly do want to know if you’d like to leave this place and go on a mini-quest with me to find some other spot that serves real food. The kitchen’s closed here, which sucks for me, and my sad empty stomach.”

He rakes a hand through his hair before dropping it into his lap. 

“I’ve had a crazy long day, and the thought of stale pretzels or peanuts that grubby, drunken hands have touched all night is not cutting it for dinner,” he continues, jutting his thumb towards an admittedly gross-looking bowl of bar snacks.

Henry’s nose scrunches a bit before he looks back at Javier.

“You might find yourself growing bored of me before long. Maybe my charm only exists within the confines of this establishment.”

Javier rests his arm on the bar, leaning his head against his propped-up hand.

“Did someone put a curse on you?” Javier jokes. “Somehow, I sincerely doubt that, but I’d be willing to take the risk. And besides, I think we could find plenty of ways to keep the night from getting dull.”

Javier grimaces and puts his hand to his forehead before running it down the length of his face and dropping it.

“Jesus, I really need to get better at not sounding like I’m trying to make a pass at you.”

Feeling a bit bold, Henry lets out a contemplative sound.

“That’s a pity,” he says, continuing to muster up the kind of confidence he doesn’t typically have. “It was actually working for you.”

Javier swallows hard, his gaze unmistakably drifting from Henry’s eyes to his lips and back again. Henry smirks and breaks away, reaching for his wallet and setting down a few bills to cover his drinks for the night. Javier flags down the bartender and closes out his tab.

“Now, what was this about an adventure?” Henry says as he gets off the stool and slips his jacket back on, hooking his tote bag on his shoulder. He crams the godforsaken book inside. Though, now that it’s responsible for striking up a conversation with this handsome man, he supposes he could be a bit nicer to the thing.

He leads Javier out of the bar, still clutching onto his false bravado. This is so unlike him, but for tonight, he figures he can be someone else.

“You’re the expert of this area,” Javier says. “What do you recommend?” 

Henry thinks on it for a moment.

“Well, we’re in New York. Pizza seems like the most logical option, if not stereotypical,” he muses.

Javier laughs. “It’d be quick, hot, and good, so I’m not complaining.”

“I bet you say that to all the guys.”

Javier barks out a surprised laugh and playfully strikes Henry’s arm.

“Oh, you're trouble. A damn deadly combination.”

“And what would that be?” Henry asks, lifting a brow.

“Funny, sharp, and handsome. One might call that being greedy. Save some for the rest of us, sweetheart.”

Henry scoffs as they walk down the street, two women around their age doing a double take at Javier as they go. They quickly turn to each other, talking fast.

“Yeah…I don’t quite believe you’re exactly hurting in that department yourself.”

Javier looks a bit tense, but he quickly relaxes and smiles. “Guess it all depends.”

Henry takes them to one of his favorite pizza shops, a real hole-in-the-wall spot. In Henry’s experience, he finds places like these have the best meals.

They order and grab a table near the back. The bright fluorescent lights are such a contrast to the dimly lit bar, and it only serves to highlight just how good-looking Javier truly is. Now that they’re seated, Henry can’t seem to get his fill of looking at him.

He’d be embarrassed if it weren’t for the fact that Javier can’t stop looking at him either. It makes Henry suddenly very aware of himself, curious what it is that Javier sees when he looks at him.

As they eat, they continue talking, their legs somehow touching under the table, though neither pulls away. Henry isn’t sure who even initiated it, though he supposes it’s very likely they simply just gravitated towards each other. In all fairness, that seems to be the theme of the night with them, and Henry prays that will continue carrying over.

By the time they’re finished, Henry feels a sinking weight in his chest, knowing they’ll eventually have to call it a night and go their separate ways. He practically drags his feet as they leave.

Henry isn’t walking anywhere in particular, but he assumes it must be in the right direction, as Javier doesn’t protest. He thinks perhaps he should get the guy’s phone number or, at the very least, a social media handle, but to do so would feel like putting a definitive end to the night.

Their arms brush on every other step, and a light rain begins to fall. Henry ducks under an awning of a closed store. Javier leans against the grate on his shoulder.

In the light of the neon signs glowing from the storefront next door, Javier is backlit and practically glowing. 

“Would I be completely overstepping here by saying that I really want to kiss you right now? That I’ve kinda been wanting to since the very second I saw you come into the bar?” Javier says quietly, his eyes latched onto Henry’s.

This shouldn’t be coming as a surprise, given how quickly Javier cozied up to him earlier. But to hear it so plainly like this is a bit jarring all the same.

“I don’t usually do this sort of thing,” Henry blurts out awkwardly. Why these words have decided to fly out of his mouth at this exact moment, he’ll never understand.

Javier’s eyes widen, suddenly looking unsure of himself.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. I had a really great night either way. I shouldn’t have pressed it. I’m sorry.”

Henry reaches out a hand without thinking about it and gently grabs Javier’s jacket.

“I’m not saying I don’t want to. I’m merely highlighting the fact that it’s uncommon for me, and yet, with you, I…,” he trails off, shaking his head. “This is the very last thing I could have seen for myself tonight, but I’d be lying if I said I took issue with how it’s all playing out.”

Javier smiles up at him, swaying slightly as he rocks on his heels.

“I’m glad I could be a happy surprise.”

Henry inches closer, still maintaining his grip. It makes Javier stop moving at once.

“Hopefully, the surprises don’t end here,” Henry says, the words coming out almost like a question as his eyes lock onto the other man’s.

Javier tips his chin up, and Henry takes the leap, closing the small distance between them and pressing his mouth to Javier’s.

The man’s lips are soft and warm, inviting even in the tender way he kisses Henry. He’d been expecting a rushed, heated kiss, given the kindling that’s been burning between them all night, but Henry appreciates this speed even more. 

He likes the way Javier takes his time, as if this night is somehow infinite. It makes Henry slow down and truly relish in the moment too. 

For all his shortcomings, in the here and now, Henry’s finally managing to get something right. 

Javier deepens the kiss, his left hand cupping Henry’s cheek, his body pressed flush against him.

They may be on a busy city street, but as far as Henry is concerned, no one and nothing else exists.

He’s never had a first kiss with someone like this before. It’s as if they’re both relying on each other for sustenance, as if they’re the air keeping the other alive.

When they pull apart, Javier’s eyes are still closed for a moment before he looks at Henry and speaks.

“I don’t want to say goodnight to you.”

Going back to a hotel with a guy he doesn’t know, not even his last name or whatever company he works for that brought him to the city in the first place, is so out of the realm of his typical life.

But looking into Javier’s soft eyes now, he can’t imagine he’d be put in any peril at his hands.

“How far is your hotel from here?” he asks.

Javier smiles a little. 

“A few blocks over.”

Just a few city streets separate him from getting his hands on Javier in earnest. A thrill runs up the length of his spine at the thought.

“Let’s go there then.”

Javier’s smile grows, and he pecks Henry’s lips once before leading the way back to his hotel. They pass by a 24-hour pharmacy, and Javier points it out, veering toward the entrance.

“Pit stop. I fully did not expect to be hooking up with anyone on this trip, so we need supplies.”

Henry’s glad for the man’s foresight and pulls open the door for him before going inside, too.

A quick trip to aisle seven and a glorious option for self-checkout gets them back en route to Javier’s hotel.

Henry lets out a low whistle as they approach.

“Impressive,” he says.

Javier rubs the back of his neck. “My company put us up nicely,” is all he says as they head in.

The lobby, with its pristine floor and gold-plated fixtures, is quiet at this hour. The only real sound is their footfalls as they cross the lobby and head toward the bank of elevators.

As they step inside, Henry feels his body craving Javier’s touch at once.

In such a confined space, the urge to push Javier up against the wall is almost overwhelming but Henry fights it off. He’s glad for it, too, when they hear a voice call.

“Hold it, please.”

Javier quickly throws out his arm to keep the elevator doors from closing as Henry pushes the doors open button.

An older woman comes into view a few seconds later. She looks up at them and smiles warmly.

“Aren’t you two just the sweetest? Thank you,” she says.

Javier and Henry smile back at her before settling in again.

“What floor?” Henry asks her. 

“Eight, thanks.”

He pushes for her floor, and as the elevator begins to ascend, Henry feels his eagerness climbing, too.

Javier is close enough for him to smell the scent of his cologne mixed with the rain from earlier, making Henry practically ache with want.

He steals a glance at Javier, but the man is staring straight ahead. It at least gives Henry a look at his gorgeous profile before he realizes belatedly that the elevator doors are reflective, and Javier can no doubt see Henry shamelessly gawking at him.

One look at the doors tells him as much as Javier smirks at him. What’s more, the woman seems to notice, too, as she smiles knowingly at him before dropping her gaze.

Henry suddenly becomes very aware of the pharmacy bag in his hands.

Could she possibly know what’s within the confines of it? Suddenly, it feels as if he has a giant neon sign flashing above his head, decrying that he’s about to get laid tonight.

He doesn’t have much time to truly dwell on it as the elevator stops on the eighth floor and the doors open. She wishes them a good evening.

“Have a nice night, ma’am,” Javier says as the woman leaves, and there’s an unexpected faint twang to the last word, an echo of his Texan roots sneaking out. Henry finds it sweet.

As the doors close, Henry lets out a breath when the elevator resumes its journey to the fourteenth floor. Javier encroaches his space suddenly, pinning his hips against Henry’s. He can feel how hard Javier is— a clear promise of what’s waiting for him in just a few moments.

Henry gets a hand in Javier’s rain-slicked hair and kisses him hard as they make their way to the fourteenth floor. He’s breathless by the time the doors open and they get out.

Javier takes a hold of his hand as he leads them to his room. Henry can’t stop himself. He kisses the man again, his back against the door as Javier fumbles with the keycard.

The door gives way, and they go stumbling over the threshold, laughing as they hold onto each other for balance. Henry very nearly loses his footing, but Javier catches him around the waist and keeps him upright.

They hastily slip off their jackets at the door, kicking off their shoes as well. In their haste, Javier’s head clunks back against the wall, and Henry trips over one of their shoes in the dark, tweaking his ankle a little. There’s a moment where Javier gets tangled in his lanyard as Henry tries to help him remove it.

All their smoothness and finesse from their kiss outside has seemingly fallen by the wayside. 

“Maybe the room is cursed,” Javier muses, rubbing the back of his head.

“And you laughed off my warning at the bar,” Henry replies. “Maybe kissing each other is the antidote?” he continues, eager to feel Javier’s mouth on his again.

“Totally only kissing you now for research purposes and nothing more.”

“I can respect that. Purely academic, yes,” Henry echoes right before Javier gets him up against the nearest wall, grabbing a fistful of Henry’s shirt.

Henry kisses him deeply, his tongue slipping into Javier’s mouth as the man’s lips part. His hips jerk forward, and he whimpers feeling Javier’s cock against his hip.

One-night stands have never been Henry’s forte. But with such a tempting offer before him, this night from hell is taking a turn.

He walks them towards the bed and falls on top of Javier as the man tips backwards onto the mattress. They shift to the top of the bed, and Javier flips them over. Henry’s hands instantly fly above his head, and Javier takes it as the perfect opportunity to get his shirt off. Henry has zero qualms.

Javier turns on the bedside lamp, and his eyes seem to drink in every facet of Henry in the soft light. Javier reaches out a hand for a second before retracting it. Henry smiles reassuringly and takes hold of the man’s hand, guiding it to his chest. 

Javier sucks in a breath, his fingers splayed against Henry’s left pec before gently sliding down his torso, along his abdomen.

“Shit,” Javier says softly under his breath as he stares. 

“Why thank you,” Henry muses.

 Javier laughs and rolls his eyes.

“Don’t get cocky, sweetheart,” Javier quips, leaning over him.

Henry laughs but stops as he notices Javier’s chain. He hadn’t seen it earlier, the piece of jewelry once buried under layers of clothes, but it fascinates Henry now.

Henry toys idly with the key that dangles from Javier’s neck, his fingers slipping from the thin silver chain to the jagged peaks and valleys of the key itself. 

“A piece of home,” the man says, answering the question Henry wasn’t sure he had a right to ask.

His eyes flicker back up to Javier’s face, their eyes locking as he continues to fiddle with the key.

“You travel so often that you require a keepsake?” Henry asks, feeling emboldened to do so.

Javier smiles, lips skewing to the left.  

“Unfortunately, yes. It’s stupid, but it helps me feel grounded.”

It’s a candid statement, a level of sentimentality Henry wasn’t expecting but appreciates all the same.

There’s hardly much from his life back in England that he cares to hold on to, but with an entire ocean separating him from home, he can understand Javier’s token.

“It’s not stupid at all,” he assures. “Quite the opposite.”

Something changes in Javier’s eyes, though Henry can’t exactly name it. For a fleeting moment, he wishes he knew this man well enough to gauge his thoughts, to even be free enough to ask for clarity. But he swallows down the question and simply tugs Javier closer to him, their lips meeting in the center of the space between them.

Henry can feel the slight tremble in the other man's body against his. He finds it endearing and—admittedly— a bit of an ego booster. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt someone’s anticipation for him as a palpable thing. It only makes Henry all the more eager to make this night a good one— for the both of them.

Javier kisses him deeply, enough to steal the air from his lungs and make his mind go quiet in a way it hasn’t been able to in weeks. He pours back into Javier, giving just as good as the man gives to him.

He craves more, and his curious hands begin to wander, first at the small of Javier’s back, silently guiding the man to press further against him. 

A moan fills the room, and Henry isn’t sure which one of them is responsible for the sound, but it hardly matters. Encouraged, Henry slips a hand under the hem of Javier’s shirt and is instantly rewarded with the feel of smooth skin and toned muscles beneath his fingertips.

He nips gently at Javier’s bottom lip and tugs, their kiss growing rougher, more carnal as their patience wanes, and he clamors to pull off Javier’s shirt.

Javier looks down at him, a few rogue curls sweeping against his forehead, his brows furrowed almost pensively.

Henry takes the opportunity to rein himself in, to get control of his breathing. The task becomes a bit difficult again as Javier runs a slow hand up from his stomach to his chest and settles at the base of his neck, his thumb softly brushing his throat.

Javier leans into him and kisses the journey his hand made in reverse, his mouth making its way from Henry’s neck to his collarbone, to his chest, to his abs. His breath is warm against Henry’s stomach as he exhales just above the waistband of Henry’s jeans.

Henry’s own breathing is heavy, though he doubts anyone would be able to blame him. His skin is still buzzing in every place Javier’s lips landed, and his cock is straining in anticipation of learning his touch too.

“Is it cool if I…,” Javier trails off, and sincerely, from the bottom of his heart, Henry would accept any conclusion for the question Javier doesn’t even ask.

He nods, not trusting himself not to all-out beg for whatever this man has in mind.

Javier’s cheeks seem to flush a little as he nods once, almost as if steeling himself, and undoes Henry’s jeans. There’s something vaguely bashful about it, but in the next breath, Javier’s eyes are focused like a man on a mission.

Needless to say, this bodes well in Henry’s mind. He gets comfortable still against the bed as Javier undresses him completely. He figures he should probably feel awkward being the only naked one now, but as Javier’s gaze roams his body in its entirety with a look of sheer want and hunger, being fully on display like this hardly seems like anything to feel insecure about.

“It’s actually kinda ridiculous how attractive you are,” Javier says.

Henry laughs. “High praise coming from you.”

Javier continues staring at him, his eyes jumping to different places on his body. Yet still, his hands remain at his sides. 

“You’ve got me here. You can, in fact, touch me,” Henry prompts.

Javier’s face reddens ever so slightly.

“Yeah, for sure. Totally,” he murmurs. 

Henry’s brows furrow. For all his smoothness this evening, Javier seems to be stumbling, his footing no longer secure now that things are well and truly underway.

He takes a tentative hold of Henry’s cock, his eyes widening. He lets go quickly before mumbling an apology. He clears his throat and touches him again, his back ramrod straight.

“Everything okay?” Henry asks after a moment when Javier’s hand trembles a bit but doesn’t move.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I’m fine.”

Javier smiles unconvincingly but seems to get back to himself as he starts to stroke Henry. 

It’s stiff and mechanical, with awkward fits and starts. Henry shifts against the mattress in an attempt to get a new angle. But he quickly discerns it’s not his placement on the bed that’s making this handjob unenjoyable. 

Javier is simply ill-equipped to give one.

“Oh my god,” Henry mutters under his breath.

“You like that, hm?” Javier says, completely misinterpreting his words.

There’s no finesse to his movements; it’s all rudimentary at best. 

Henry kisses him, and it’s enough to get Javier to stop his movements.

“I think I’m ready for more,” he says. Henry moves away then and roots around for their purchases.

He takes out the lube and box of condoms, handing the bottle over to Javier.

“I want you to open me up.”

A muscle in Javier’s jaw flexes as he accepts the bottle, their fingertips brushing. It sends a tingle of excitement through Henry, knowing he’ll get to feel them elsewhere in a few moments’ time.

“Cool, yeah,” Javier says, snapping open the bottle. He fumbles with it, and it drops to the bed. He quickly picks it up and squeezes out an obscene amount of liquid.

Henry doesn’t miss the way Javier’s hand shakes a little. He’s about to ask once more if the man is okay before Javier starts coating his entrance.

He squeezes more lube onto his fingers and rubs against Henry’s hole. Henry tries to get his body to relax, but he can practically feel himself leaking lube at this point. He supposes it’s better than the alternative of not having enough lubrication to ease him open, but nothing about this feels particularly sexy.

After a few minutes, Javier works a finger into him. Henry thinks finally, they’ll begin to get somewhere, but Javier fingers him in the most literal, basic sense of the action. His finger pumps in, slips out, then dips back in to repeat it all over again. There’s nothing skilled about it, no switch up even as he adds another finger. It doesn’t feel like he’s even trying to stimulate him by finding his prostate. By the time Javier adds a third finger, it’s clear he’s just completely neglected the idea or simply never had it to begin with.

“We’re good now,” Henry cuts in, keen to put an end to this horrendous fingering.

Javier nods and grabs a condom from the box Henry unearthed before and works quickly to get it onto himself.

Henry sighs and tries to clear his mind and stay optimistic. Maybe this time around, the third time will be the charm, and they’ll manage to get back in sync with each other.

Javier adds even more lube to Henry’s entrance, and at this point, the mental image of what the sheets must look like almost makes Henry burst out laughing. He bites his bottom lip, and above him, Javier does the same as he coats his cock, giving himself a few quick strokes.

Javier grips Henry’s hips as he aligns himself.  

“Are you ready?” he asks.

Henry nods, holding onto Javier in turn. He breaks eye contact, staring at a point on the wall just past Javier’s ear as the man slowly enters him. 

Javier shudders, and Henry can admit the slide of the man’s cock inside him feels good. It’s been far too long since he’s been intimate with someone, and Henry can’t help but cling to the familiarity of being physical like this.

He clutches Javier’s shoulders and brings them closer together. Javier’s breath catches, and he stays frozen for a moment. Henry rolls his hips forward, silently letting Javier know it’s okay to proceed.

Much like with his fingering, Javier’s thrusts leave much to be desired. Henry wonders if perhaps he might be nitpicking, but this all falls so flat. He tries to get a rhythm going for them, but it’s as if they’re both tuned into different frequencies, their bodies out of step as they move to different beats. 

Above him, Javier moans, crashing their hips together.

“You feel so good,” he rasps. 

Henry contemplates the ways it’s possible for two people to be experiencing the same moment but have such contrasting points of view.

It’s not that Javier necessarily feels bad. Objectively speaking, his cock fills him up nicely. It’s just that it doesn’t seem like Javier really knows how to use it fully to his advantage. A part of Henry thinks he should speak up and give some tips, but the thought of making this even more awkward keeps him quiet. He opts instead to make some convincing noises here and there.

“I’m so close,” Javier pants.

That makes one of us, Henry thinks tersely as he bucks forward, still holding out some small sliver of hope that Javier will find his groove. 

Any potential for that is dashed as Javier finishes with a shudder, his breath raspy in his ear, moaning Henry’s name. Javier takes a few steady breaths before pulling out.

Henry doesn’t spare a moment in pulling the covers over himself, disguising the fact that he didn’t actually reach his end as Javier disposes of the condom and settles into bed again.

Beside him, Javier is looking up at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling heavily. He looks thoroughly satisfied, and, if nothing else, Henry is glad to see he actually enjoyed himself. 

“Are you okay?” Javier asks, turning suddenly on his side, searching Henry’s eyes. He looks so expectant, his brown eyes looking more like a puppy dog’s, and Henry sees very little point in voicing the truth but he doubts he can convincingly manage a lie.

He splits the difference and smiles, making a noncommittal sound before leaning in and kissing Javier.

This the man is spectacular at, and Henry clings to that to redeem the night. He gets lost in their kiss as best he can, but flashes of their encounter just moments ago keep springing to mind, shattering the illusion.

Javier pulls away first, stifling a yawn.

“Sorry. It really has been a day,” he says.

Henry shakes his head.

“It’s alright. You should get some sleep.”

Javier’s eyes look a bit unfocused as fatigue seeps in further.

“Night, Henry,” he says softly, pressing his lips to Henry’s one more time before closing his eyes.

His face is instantly softer with sleep, and the guilt that trickles throughout Henry for the fact that he cannot stay a moment longer than necessary is immediate.

Henry bides his time, waiting until Javier is in a deep sleep before gingerly climbing out of bed, careful not to jostle it and run the risk of Javier waking to find him scampering off. 

When he’s on two feet again, Henry quickly moves about the room, retrieving his clothes and redressing.

He looks one last time at the bed and Javier’s sleeping figure.

This is for the best, he reasons, even as guilt taps on his shoulder once more. 

He’s careful in closing the door, turning the handle all the way as he pulls it in behind him. It closes with a quiet click, and Henry holds his breath as he listens for any sounds on the other side of the door. After a few seconds, he feels assured that he’s in the clear.

It would be his luck to find a guy as interesting and attractive as Javier on a night like this, only for it not to end in fireworks but to go up in flames.

The universe truly has a vendetta against him, certain to get in one last laugh at his expense.

~*~*~

Pez HELLO?! Where is the confirmation you haven’t been beamed up to outer space?

Pez If the aliens are sexy then I suppose I can’t hold it against you for your silence 

Pez Send proof of life or I am calling the authorities 

Pez Drink lots of water, my love xoxo

Henry

Negative on the sexy aliens. However, I must confess to making contact with a very attractive man. Does that constitute as out of this world enough for you?

Henry sees three dots appear and vanish for the briefest of seconds before an incoming call from his roommate flashes across his screen instead.

He sighs, knowing full well he should have seen this coming.

He accepts the call and before he can open his mouth to greet his best friend, Pez is firing on all cylinders.

“I want a detailed recap of your night at once or, so help me, God, I will track you down and claw it out of you.”

“Easy now. No need for threats I know you’d make good on,” Henry says, heading into the kitchen.

He pulls down a mug and plucks a tea bag from the canister on the counter. He drops it inside of the mug.

“My night was…interesting,” he says, moving next to the kettle and adding water.

Pez makes a perplexed sound over the line, not that Henry can blame him.

“You don’t sound like a man whose life has been altered by mind-blowing sex despite the description of this mystery man. What exactly happened?”

Henry shudders a bit as the memory of Javier’s hotel room comes to mind. He can still feel the excessive amount of lube even though he’d showered thoroughly the second he got home.

He recaps the night just as Pez demanded while he makes his tea, not skimping on all the details even as his face burns as he recounts it all. Pez is aghast, gasping and shrieking right on cue as Henry describes the night and his early morning escape. 

“Anyway, I still feel rather guilty for leaving while he was sleeping, but I couldn’t bear the thought of having to talk about it.”

“You worry too much. It was a one night stand. Staying the night is not customary nor is it mandatory. You got in, you got out. That’s standard protocol for an evening such as this. Especially as this handsome devil turned out to be a dud.”

Henry frowns. “Still. Some kind of acknowledgment would have been the decent, proper thing to do. I hope I didn’t offend him.”

Pez tuts twice.

“My darling Hazza, life is too short to waste it dwelling on mediocre hookups. All the same, I must say I’m particularly proud of you, young chap! Sowing your wild oats without much abandon! You’re like a brand new man. My little Henry, all grown up right before my very eyes.”

“Have I expressed lately just how much I loathe you?”

“Sweetie, don’t lie. It’s most unbecoming.”

Henry rolls his eyes and smiles to himself as he sets his mug to his lips and drinks. His phone buzzes and Henry pulls it away to see another call coming in from his agent.

“I’ve got to run. Shaan is ringing me, but I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

Pez bids him farewell and Henry quickly switches over.

“Henry,” Shaan greets. “Are you busy today? Would you be free for lunch?”

“How sweet. Are you thinking about buying me a meal?” Henry muses.

He can practically hear Shaan’s eyes rolling.

“Hardly, but there are some people who are interested in doing such. An American actor just got acquired for his autobiography and he and his team responded quite well to your samples. They’d like to meet with you today.”

Henry freezes, surprised by the news.

“Wait, seriously?”

“He and his manager are leaving this afternoon, but they’d love to meet you if you’re able to make it for lunch. It’s a bit of a time crunch here.”

Henry eyes the clock. His afternoon is in fact free; he can certainly make the meeting but the question still remains, does he even want to? Last night’s borderline career crisis is still top of mind. He’d been so ready at the bar last night to throw it all away, to give up ghostwriting, to get back to telling his own stories instead of being the unknown voice behind others.

Henry pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“If I go, it’s not a commitment, right?”

“It’s just an inquiry, a get-to-know-you for everyone.” Shaan pauses. “Is everything alright with you? I know things with that gamer guy didn’t go over so well, but from the pitch, it truly sounds like these guys are going to give you true access to Alex. They want this to be extremely collaborative.”

Henry purses his lips and stands up straighter.

“Alex. That’s the actor then?”

“Yes, Alex Claremont-Diaz. He was on that teen vampire show, I’m completely blanking on the name right now. The vampire craze a few years back really was hard to keep track of. Anyway, he’s been in a few made-for-TV movies and has made some guest appearances over the years. His fans love him. I think this could be a great opportunity for you and what they’re offering is pretty substantial. They’re putting their weight behind this one in a big way.”

Despite the man’s resumé, Henry hasn’t the foggiest idea who the guy is, but he figures it’s a better alternative than knowing him for negative reasons.

“Would you be up for taking the meeting?” Shaan asks. Henry can hear a bit of strain in his voice.

There’s no harm in at least going, Henry thinks.

“Of course, yes. Just text me the details and I’ll be there. Thanks for setting this up, Shaan. Sincerely, I appreciate it.”

He hangs up and looks around his kitchen, his mind racing. In an ideal world, he would do his due diligence and look up this actor and make sure he’s the kind of person he’d even want to get to know, let alone invoke on the page.

Instead, he’s only able to make a mad dash for another shower and throw together a presentable outfit before heading out the door. He checks the text that had come in from Shaan while he was getting ready to get the meeting details.

He makes his way into Manhattan and to the restaurant, giving the name Shaan told him the reservation was under, Zahra Bankston.

He’s led through the tastefully decorated restaurant and brought to a table with a woman with a no nonsense expression as she types furiously on her phone and a man who makes Henry believe he’s having either a stroke or some kind of psychotic break.

Though his head is down perusing the menu, it was only a few hours ago that Henry had a view like this: that head between his legs trying in vain to make him come.

There’s only a split second before the man looks up, confirming what Henry already knew. All the same, it still feels like a dagger to the heart seeing that face again.

“Ah, you must be Henry,” Zahra greets him, rising from her seat. “Thanks so much for squeezing in this meeting. But with us in town, it would have been crazy not to at least try getting some time together.”

Henry, to his credit, manages to function enough to smile and answer back. From the corner of his eye, he can see Javier—Alex—avoid looking at him and taking a sip from his glass.

“My pleasure, really. I’m glad I could come.”

Alex chokes on his water, quickly patting his chest twice and coughing.

Zahra looks over at him, a sharp perfectly groomed brow lifting.

Alex holds up a hand and gestures for them to continue.

Henry wonders how long it’ll take for Alex to actually utter a word.

“Your samples were incredible and that’s not me blowing smoke up your ass. You’ve got such a range. We’d love to see what you could do with Alex.”

Henry looks over at the man just then and their eyes meet.  

Unlike last night, there are no glasses obscuring Alex’s face. He looks different somehow in the daylight, his features sharper– every bit the celebrity he’s now been revealed to be. Even how he carries himself is different. Henry chalks it up to Alex now having an air of professionalism. Last night as Javier, he didn’t have to be someone embarking on a meeting. He could let his guard down and be himself freely, even with a fake name and fabricated backstory.

Henry looks away and tries to get his head on straight, to exist right here at this table rather than being pulled back to retrace last night.

Zahra’s phone vibrates on the table, rattling her cutlery. She grabs it and looks at the screen, sighing.

“Crap, sorry. I have to take this,” Zahra says impatiently, removing her cloth napkin from her lap and putting it on the table before she bustles off.

Without her, Henry feels completely unmoored and the shockwaves of seeing the man next to him again shake him once more.

“Okay, well, this is awkward,” Alex says flatly. 

He’d been so quiet this whole time, Henry was starting to think he’d lost his voice in the hours that separated their run ins.

“Understatement of the century. I never thought I’d see you again.”

Alex laughs. “Yeah, I kinda got that impression when I woke up alone.” 

He says it lightly, but his words still land like punches to the gut.

Henry frowns. “I’m sorry. Everything last night…going back to your room, I told you, that’s not really me. You weren’t actually you either though. Here on business? Working in sales?”

Alex’s brows furrow. “I couldn’t be. Hell, I didn’t know if you might’ve known who I was or not. It was a risk so, yeah, I fibbed a little.”

“You fibbed a lot, Javier.”

Alex’s face is unreadable and Henry thinks perhaps he’s taken this a step too far.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

Alex waves him off. “I probably deserved that, but for different reasons, I couldn’t be honest. You can understand that, can’t you?”

Henry imagines himself in Alex’s shoes, a man with a certain level of public notoriety. He can picture how difficult it might be to forge genuine connections with people when there’s an underlying fear that it’s merely seen as an opportunity for a quick fifteen minutes of fame.

“I can. I’m not actually mad. I’m just…God, the last twenty four hours have been some of the most confusing for me.”

Alex laughs dryly. “You’re telling me.”

Henry can sense there’s a backstory here, but he doubts he’s in a position to ask for details. Instead, he takes a cleansing breath.

“Had I known this meeting was with you, I wouldn’t have taken it. I’m clearly not the right person to have on this project. When Zahra gets back, I can let her know. Or I’ll have Shaan phone her later.”

Alex’s head snaps back a bit as if he’s been struck.

“Whoa, wait. Henry,” he says softly and instantly Henry’s brought back to last night, the way Alex rasped his name.

He squeezes eyes shut, blocks out the memory before pulling himself back into the moment.

“We’ve gone through so many freaking portfolios and yours really stood out the most. That doesn’t suddenly change just because of yesterday. We called you in on merit, on your talent. I still think you’d be the best person for the job. You don’t even know just how perfect you are for this. Please consider it? Whatever happened between us, we can just ignore it and start fresh.”

Henry searches his eyes trying to see if he can detect any underlying doubt but Alex’s face is completely earnest. 

Before he can answer, Zahra comes bounding back to the table. Her presence is so commanding, people from other tables stare after as she passes by.

She either doesn’t notice or she simply doesn’t care. Either way, Henry is in awe of her.

“Okay. Where were we?” she says as she settles into her seat.

Henry still feels shaken by Alex’s plea and the curiosity he felt before is only amplified tenfold as Alex’s words play on a loop in his head.

Why would Henry of all people be the ideal candidate, even with their recent history?

“Right,” Zahra continues, clapping her hands together. “Alex will be hitting the con circuit in full force while the announcement goes live in two weeks. You’d go with him, getting complete access to panels and photoshoots, everything so you can shadow him for research.”

“The announcement?” Henry interjects.

“Crescent Valley will be doing a reunion special,” Alex answers. “It’s under wraps for now, but we’ll be breaking the news during this tour. It’s something fans have been asking for for years now. We know it’ll get a ton of great coverage. But when we start out at the first stop in Portland, you’ll be able to get the hang of what it’s like on the road before the madness kicks in.”

“And, uh, how many stops exactly?” Henry asks, his head already hurting at the mere thought of the costs.

Zahra must pick up on it as she says, “Ten-city tour this time around plus time in L.A for reunion-related filming. All your travel expenses and lodging will be covered. You’ll also receive a per diem while you’re on the road with Alex for these three months.”

She picks up her glass and takes a sip of her wine.

“You’ve got a damn good agent in Shaan. He negotiated for an advance as well. You’re practically robbing the publisher, but honestly, good for you. You’d be worth every cent.”

It’s a lucrative deal, far more than Henry could have imagined. A multi-city tour, an advance. It sounds too good to be true. Last night he’d had one foot out the door with this career. Now, it felt as if a red carpet was being rolled out at his feet.

“So, what do you say? Can we tempt you?” Zahra asks. Henry is quickly learning to appreciate how direct she is, even if it is slightly intimidating.

Henry can’t help it; he looks right at Alex then.

“I can honestly say you’ve already succeeded in that.” 

He holds Alex’s gaze for a moment before he looks back at Zahra. 

“I’m in.”

~*~*~

Henry spends the better part of the day after lunch falling down a rabbit hole of YouTube videos of Alex, everything from Entertainment Weekly interviews to fanvids. The content is bottomless and if there’s one thing to be clear, it’s that Shaan was right. Alex’s fanbase is devoted, the comments sections overrun with people making declarations of love for both Alex and his character. On more than one occasion, he’s seen oaths from people vowing they’d leave their current relationships if given the chance to date Alex.

From their ferocity, Henry doesn’t think they’re being hyperbolic.

He’s part way through Alex’s BuzzFeed puppy interview, because of course Alex has one, when he hears Pez coming home from his spot on the couch where he’s spent far too many hours stretched out with his laptop.

Pez enters with a tote bag of groceries on his shoulder and flowers, no doubt from his favorite stall at the farmers market.

“Have you ever heard of an actor named Alex Claremont-Diaz?” he asks Pez by way of a greeting.

Pez stares blankly at him and, for a moment, Henry worries something has happened to his best friend until Pez sets down the flowers and tote bag and plants his hands firmly on his hips.

Henry is sure the look he’s going for is stern or authoritative, but it's very hard to take Pez seriously when he looks more like a deer caught in headlights.

“Are you playing jokes on me? You know I could not shut up about Crescent Valley when we were uni! Of course I know who Alex Claremont-Diaz is, that delicious slice of apple pie.”

Henry snorts a laugh, keeping himself back from saying he’s actually had a taste firsthand.

“Why the sudden interest in him?” Pez asks, picking up his discarded items. Henry follows him into the kitchen.

“We had lunch.”

Pez turns back sharply from the cupboard he’s just opened.

“Pardon me? You and whom exactly? Certainly not Alex Claremont-Diaz! That simply cannot be. That is not news you just oh so casually drop like you’re giving me a weather update, Hen. Are you positive you didn’t meet aliens last night? Surely you’ve been possessed. One night stands and rubbing elbows with celebrities. I mean, my word.”

Henry smiles to himself. If only Pez knew the totality of it, of the way this all intersects.

“Paint the scene! But start from the beginning. How in the world did you end up on a lunch date with Alex Claremont-Diaz, the man I once believed was my destiny?”

Henry rolls his eyes at the latter part of Pez’s words.

“I will tell you, but only if you stop using his full name every two seconds. You can just say Alex.”

“Oh, well. Excuse me. Have I been replaced? Have you gone off and made a new best friend then? Your precious Alex,” he says, fluttering his lashes on the name.

Henry scoffs.

“I haven’t been able to cut you loose yet, so I’d wager you’ve earned your stay in my life, much to my dismay,” he teases before he starts to explain Shaan’s call and the snowball that his afternoon became as a result of it.

“This is unreal,” Pez says by the end of it, awe coloring his tone. “Where’s the first stop?”

“Portland.”

Pez claps his hands together.

“We must go shopping for flannel at once.”

Henry gives him a deadpan look.

“What? They’d probably bar you from entry into the state if you don’t look the part,” Pez jokes.

“You just want an excuse to dress me up like I’m a Ken doll.”

“But, I mean…aren’t you though? You strapping young lad you.”

Henry rolls his eyes and smiles.

“I’m going to miss you. It’ll be strange going weeks, months really, without having you around.”

Pez puts the back of his hand against his forehead and drapes himself dramatically over the counter.

“I suppose I’ll have to fend for myself. You can write me letters. Carry my photo in a locket to remember me by. Tattoo my name on your heart so that I know the love is real.”

“On second thought, perhaps I won’t miss you at all.”

[steelbluehome]

The Hollywood Reporter

Telluride: Don’t Bet Against Sebastian Stan, Jeremy Strong’s Oscar Prospects for Trump Origin Story ‘The Apprentice’

The actors play Donald Trump and Roy Cohn, respectively, in Ali Abbasi's film, which had its North American premiere at the Telluride Film Festival on Saturday night.

By Scott Feinberg

September 1, 2024

The Apprentice, the Donald Trump origin story that everyone in the film community and beyond has been talking and speculating about, had its North American premiere at the Telluride Film Festival’s Galaxy Theatre on Saturday night. The stateside unveiling comes three months after its world premiere at the Cannes Film Festival and just days after Briarcliff Entertainment acquired its U.S. distribution rights amid legal threats from the Trump campaign, with plans to release it in theaters on Oct. 11, less than a month before the presidential election.

Interest in the film among those who missed it on the Croisette has been through the roof, to the extent that Telluride’s 10 p.m. Saturday night screening — which was added to the fest’s schedule only a few hours before it took place — attracted a full house of 500 people, with many others turned away. Post-screening reactions were, not unexpectedly, divided. But my own impression from finally seeing the film (I had to return from Cannes before it screened there), and the degree to which the people who like it really like it, is that it should not be counted out of the awards race — particularly its lead actor Sebastian Stan, who plays young Trump, and its supporting actor Jeremy Strong, who plays the man who became his consigliere, Roy Cohn.

The Apprentice was written by Vanity Fair’s longtime Trump chronicler Gabriel Sherman and directed by Border and Holy Spider helmer Ali Abbasi, in his English-language film debut. It covers the period from 1973, when New York businessman Trump, then 27, first crossed paths with power lawyer Cohn, through 1986, shortly after Cohn died (under circumstances that you should not Google if you don’t already know them), and shortly before the publication of The Art of the Deal, the book that helped to elevate Trump from a braggadocious businessman to a full-fledged celebrity.

Trump supporters have assumed that the film would be a Hollywood hit job. That’s partly because most of them have heard only about a brief scene in which Trump is shown forcing himself on his first wife, Ivana (Borat Oscar nominee Maria Bakalova), which, in fact, is based on an accusation that Ivana herself made and then, perhaps under pressure, recanted. But the truth is that The Apprentice — which opens with a disclaimer that a few aspects of its story are imagined, but the vast majority of it is documented — is not some mocking caricature of Trump; it’s actually a portrayal that some Trump haters will find too sympathetic.

It is neither a puff piece nor a hit job, but is, as the Iranian-born Dane Abbasi said during his pre-screening introduction, an outsider-to-America’s effort to hold up a “mirror” to our society and force us to look at it anew. It shows the man who would become president as a young, handsome, charming and promising businessman, as well as someone who was emotionally damaged by his father, steered down a dark path by Cohn, and, consequently, became vain, selfish and occasionally very cruel.

Stan nails Trump’s look, mannerisms and unusual way of speaking — which must have been a daunting assignment, given how many other people have done impersonations of Trump — and Strong captures the dead-eyed look and coiled-snake physicality that Cohn possessed going back to his early years as Joseph McCarthy’s henchman.

One doesn’t have to like a character — or even a film — to appreciate an actor’s guts and abilities. Indeed, in recent years the Academy’s actors branch has nominated numerous impressive portrayals of polarizing people in polarizing movies — among them Megyn Kelly, Richard Nixon, Tammy Faye Bakker, George W. Bush, Lynne Cheney and Dick Cheney, and J.D. Vance’s grandma, none of whom are particular favorites of the Hollywood community.

The Apprentice’s distributor, Briarcliff, is relatively new to the scene, but its chief, Tom Ortenberg, is not new to the awards game, having overseen, during his days at Lionsgate, the campaign for Crash, and during his days at Open Road, the campaign for Spotlight — both of which went on to win the best picture Oscar. He — in partnership with James Shani’s Rich Spirit, which was instrumental in helping free up the film’s domestic rights — has also already retained a number of highly capable awards consultants to help execute a push for The Apprentice. And the talent behind the film is on the ground at Telluride supporting it. So, much like it would be unwise to count out Trump in 2024, I believe that it would be unwise to count out The Apprentice.

[alpydk]

22 and 24 :)

22. say 3 things about someone you love.

So going to go with my kid.

Love how curious they can be at times, just off the wall weird, how they listen to the dumb shit I say and add on to it with their own.

"Mummy, what is a ship?" "Like a boat?" "Nooooo, like in games. When people say they want to ship them," "Oh... *me thinking over the smut* um, when people say they want to people to be in a relationSHIP." "Like Naoto and Kanji in Persona 4." "Exactly like that." *Long pause.* "TRIAL OF THE DRAGOOONNNN!"

(A repeat of a conversation last night.)

I like how they love animals and are so great with them. They have autism, so people and friends are more tricky, but they're the most accepting person ever of anyone, really. But when with animals, they're a whole new person entirely, patient, caring, like the animals just get it all. It's amazing to see.

Lastly... That they simply exist. We went through a lot of hell for them. They're a miracle.

24.what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?

I was thinking about this the other day and I'm going to go with the art portion of my degree. We had to do this entire display of our work and explain the theme and how we would go about teaching it to a class and I chose "World within worlds."

Now, as you have all seen, I'm not good at art. I was in a class with people who'd been drawing for years and I took this module simply so I didn't have to write huge essays whilst writing my final paper. I fought with the professor over pop art and I fought with her over collages, and I fought over...well everything, but every time I'd go home and think over what we were doing and I'd twist it so I understood it, and she let me. Honestly, an amazing, AMAZING person!

I ended up getting my final paper written earlier and throwing more energy into the art project than anyone expected. After a module of arguing over art processes, art analysis and everything else with my professor, I showed up with this representative of me, basically. I got a very high grade for it and the feedback I got was, "You took everything from the class and made it your own in some way. You've earned this grade and I'm proud of you." I cried, not over my final exam, not over all the stress or pressure or anything else I'd been going through. No, I cried because she saw me and was proud of me. How pathetic is that???

Now, anyway, because I am proud, here is some stuff I did for it.

A stop motion video was one aspect I put a lot of energy into. Featuring my 30+ year old bear Nelson.

Black out poetry, including a large book I made where I took one of the very long academic texts we read, made it into a fantasy novel using blackout, and explained that papers like that were destroying creativity.

And the dinosaur... We'd been given an assignment to take a piece of real art and make it into our own. The professor did not approve of me adding Godzilla and a volcano to a Tate Modern piece, so I went away and made a dinosaur out of Tate Modern... You can see how difficult a student I was.

Right! Enough sappy stuff now! Destroying my angst vibes!