#I am late to work due to registration for school fucking me. I leave work right as the rain starts. A car splashes me so now I’m soaked

[north-wilkesboro-moonshine-cave]

I have decided I hate the Australia race bc for real this weekend has literally just started and baby I am *cursed* cursed

[everlarkficexchange]

Extended Office Hours

Author: @hutchhitched

  Prompt 22: Student/Professor. Katniss is stressing out about an assignment and decides to go and talk to Professor Mellark about it, as he’s always been understanding and patient in class. However things turn awkward when Katniss stumbles upon him in his office after hours watching porn on his laptop. Is it deliberate, maybe he needed to relieve some stress or did his brother/friend send him a link to something that he shouldn’t have opened?? It’s up to you writer :) [submitted by @peetaspikelets]

  Rating: M

  Summary: Peeta Mellark, an English PhD student, teaches at Panem Community College. Seeking help from her professor, Katniss Everdeen visits his office just when Peeta opens an email that probably should have been read at home.

“Remember, your essay is due next Monday. I’ll be in my office during office hours, and feel free to swing by other times if you’re near the building,” Professor Mellark announced as the class packed up their notebooks and paper drafts.

  “Will you be there?”

  Peeta tried not to laugh as Katniss, one of his better students, rolled her eyes and shoved her stuff into her bag. Cashmere was easily the most irritating girl in the class and clearly not very bright if she’d just asked that question.

  No, of course I won’t be there. That’s why I told you to stop by.

  He cleared his throat and studied Cashmere, unable to tell if she was really that vapid and unaware or if she was being coy. Struggling to keep his expression and tone neutral, he confirmed, “I’ll be around a lot this week, yes.”

  Katniss had no intention of swinging by to see her professor during office hours or otherwise. He knew that. He’d overheard her one day as she left the class explaining to a friend that she was “doing fine in the class, thank you very much.” She seemed pretty shy, too, so he doubted he’d ever have the pleasure of seeing her in his office.

  He watched her leave and sighed in frustration when he was finally alone in the room. Disgusted with himself, Peeta sank into a chair and took several deep breaths. He’d never been so attracted to someone—especially not one of his students—and he was both dreading and excited for the end of the semester when he wouldn’t see Katniss again. He’d done everything he knew how to do to control his interest in her, but she was lovely and interesting and peculiar in a really good way. He’d never been that conventional, and Katniss wasn’t either. He needed to not have her as a student anymore—not if he wanted to maintain any sort of professional integrity.

  Not that he’d done anything. He certainly hadn’t. That would be breaking the ethical responsibilities of his job, and Peeta was unquestionably responsible. He always had been—all during childhood and high school. Even through college when he’d turned down an athletic scholarship at Panem State University, so he could stay close to home and help out at the family bakery. He’d attended his parents’ alma mater and worked the opening shift at Mellark’s every day until he graduated and broke the news he was going away to graduate school. He’d put his own dreams on hold for long enough, and it was time for him to leave the small town where he’d been raised.

  By the time he was 27, he’d landed a job as an adjunct professor at Panem Community College as he finished his degree and become a full-fledged PhD. It was only his second semester when Katniss Everdeen walked into his classroom and made his heart skip a few beats. She was reticent and quiet, but her papers showed depth and insight that made him want to call her into his office and juice her brain until he knew everything about her.

  For the most part, he was able to control himself, but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit to having a few fantasies about her. He didn’t watch porn that often, but when he did, he tended toward ones with dark-haired students who frequented office hours. And if he couldn’t find one he liked, he allowed himself to imagine for a few minutes…

  Peeta shook himself and packed up his papers, folders, and pens. He wasn’t going to give into a lewd fantasy about one of his students in a classroom where anyone could walk in and see his arousal.

  Maybe it would be easier to deal with the situation if he hadn’t, in a moment of weakness, confided in his friend and colleague, Finnick Odair, another young professor whose philosophy classes filled up seconds after registration opened. Dr. Odair’s popularity with the female student body was legendary, and Peeta didn’t mind that his own status had increased from the fall to the spring. His schedule for the next fall was already almost full, and early registration had been running for only a few days.

  He entered his office and flung his bag on the floor at his feet. As he powered up his desktop, he shuffled a stack of essays he needed to grade for the next day’s class in hopes of finding his reading glasses. He answered a few emails and then turned his attention to the papers. Losing himself in his work, he didn’t look up until a chime indicated he’d received a new email.

  “What does Finnick have to say now?” he mused as he bit the cap of his pen. He clicked on the attachment and blinked at the screen when a half-naked woman in a short plaid skirt who looked exactly like the student he couldn’t get off his mind spread her legs and leaned back on her elbows on a wooden desk. Fascinated, he watched a clothed blonde man cross to her and caress her legs.

  “You know your homework scores are much too low,” the man reprimanded.

  The Katniss look-alike blinked rapidly and arched her back so her exposed breasts jutted upward. “I’m so sorry, professor. I’ve been a very naughty girl, but I simply cannot fail anatomy. Can’t I do something to make up my grade?”

  “I might be able to offer some extra credit. If you’re willing to help me study a specimen.”

  Peeta’s mouth dropped open as the man flipped up the girl’s skirt and spread her lips. He alternated fingering her hard and licking his fingers. The action repeated several times with the girl begging him in breathy moans to make her cum like the bad girl she was. The camera cut to a close shot of the girl’s pussy, and Peeta sucked in his breath at the moisture seeping from her. It was so wrong to watch this, but it was so, so, so hot to see someone who looked so much like Katniss building to a climax.

  His eyes were riveted on the screen when the man shed his pants and rubbed his cock between the girl’s legs. Peeta shifted in his seat and adjusted himself as the male porn star entered his make-believe student. They fucked for a while before he directed her onto her knees and the pace quickened.

  For a fleeting moment, Peeta’s thoughts flickered to the cracked door and the possibility of being overheard. However, it was late and the last week before finals. Campus was practically deserted, and he was almost always alone in the building by himself by this time in the evening.

  The brunette begged to be fucked on the computer screen in ever-increasing decibels when Peeta finally slipped his hand into his own pants. He groaned at the sensation and pumped himself in rhythm with the two on his screen. He bit his lower lip as he jacked off. There was something weirdly freeing about doing something so private in a public building, and that only made him more determined to—

  “Professor Mellark?”

  “Oh, fuck,” Peeta hissed at the sound his name in a feminine voice. He tucked himself back into his pants and slapped at the keyboard to mute his computer while calling out, “Just a second! Let me just finish this—”

  The door swung open, and Katniss stood there, her brow furrowed in concern. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

  “No! No, you’re fine,” he yelped and frantically refastened his belt below his desk. He wiped his palm on the side of his pants before motioning for her to enter and take a seat in a chair facing his desk. “Sorry. I didn’t realize anyone was out there. I was, uh… Yeah, anyway. What can I do for you, Katniss?”

  She clearly didn’t believe him—probably because his face flamed in what must have been the brightest shade of red known to man—but he refused to acknowledge what he’d been doing. She shifted back and forth on her feet a few times, and he willed himself to think of really, really unsexy things to help deflate his erection. Thank fuck for the desk. Otherwise, his favorite student would have gotten an eyeful of his junk in a very inappropriate way.

  Katniss glanced over her shoulder and finally stepped into the room and crossed to a chair. She stared down at him for a few seconds before sinking down and perching herself on the edge of the seat. She looked like she would flee at any moment, and Peeta yearned to make her comfortable.

  “Are you having trouble with the final essay?” he coaxed when she remained silent. Her gray eyes penetrated him and made him squirm. It was as if she could see inside him where he hid his past hurts, imposter syndrome, and insecurities.

  “I thought I heard you talking to someone.”

  He flushed again and waved away her concern. “No, no, no. I was listening to a podcast. You didn’t interrupt a thing.”

  “If you’re sure…”

  “I’m sure, Katniss. Absolutely positive,” he assured her in a rush. “It’s a pleasure to have you here in my office. I-I mean, so glad you’re seeking me out. For help. With the paper. Or whatever.”

  Peeta’s face flamed, both for his unintended sexual innuendo and his inability to hide his nervousness. He’d allowed himself one too many fantasies of her alone with him in his office and working out something that had nothing to do with academics. One too many times speculating about the feel of her smooth olive skin under his hands, the sounds she’d make, how good she’d feel, how being with someone like her would make him feel whole, how building a life with her would fulfill all his dreams. He was a complete wreck.

  Katniss reached down and pulled a stack of papers out of her bag and thrust them at him. She twisted her hands as he flipped through the pile and spoke only when he stopped to look at her.

  “I’m trying to get into Panem State next year, and I need a recommendation letter. I don’t really know too many faculty here—non-traditional student and all that—so I didn’t know who to ask, but I’ve really enjoyed your class, and you did say you could help with anything we needed.”

  Peeta leaned back in his chair and smiled at her. “Of course, I’ll write a letter for you! I’m happy to help.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded as she twisted her braid around her palm and tugged on it nervously. “Absolutely. I just need a little more information.”

  “L-like what?”

  He flashed a grin at her in an attempt to ease her anxiety, but he wasn’t sure it worked. She still looked like she wanted to sprint from the room at any second.

  “I didn’t realize you were a non-traditional student. Can you tell me a little bit more about your story? I’d like to reference your circumstances in the letter.”

  “It’s not much of a story,” she mumbled.

  “Everybody has a story, Katniss.”

  “I guess that’s true,” she grudgingly admitted and then smiled softly. “My father died when I was in middle school, and my mom took it hard. She was practically catatonic for most of high school, so I raised my younger sister and worked odd jobs until I was old enough to get real employment. When I graduated, I took on as much work as I could until she went away to school. Then I decided it was time to get a degree, so I’m here.”

  “How much younger is your sister?”

  “Four years.”

  “So, that makes you…24?”

  “Yeah, although I look like I’m 16.”

  Peeta chuckled at her wry assessment. “You look lov— I mean, I just hadn’t realized how similar we are in age. I’m 28, and I’m sure at any second everyone is going to realize I don’t really belong here. Professors are supposed to be old and gray, not bumbling around like the twenty-something I am.”

  “You’re a great teacher,” Katniss said softly. “I’ve never been good with words, but in your class…”

  “Well, that’s a wonderful compliment. Make sure to put it on the teacher evaluation at the end of the semester.”

  “Oh, I-I will.”

  “I’m teasing, Katniss. No coercion here.”

  “No, but I mean, you really are a great teacher. Normally, I’m not a very verbal person. I’d rather do things than talk, but you make me want to do both.”

  The double entendre hung in the air between them, and neither spoke or broke eye contact. Peeta wasn’t sure if she’d meant to hint at something other than his teaching, but the flush on her face indicated she realized what she’d said.

  He jumped at the sharp rap on his door and glanced up to see Finnick grinning at him. “Peeta, my friend, want to grab a beer? Oh, I didn’t realize you had company.”

  “I was just leaving,” Katniss blurted and jumped to her feet. “Thanks for writing the letter for me, Professor Mellark. See you next week at the final.”

  “No problem, Katniss. I’ll have it for you then. And keep working on your essay. I’m sure you’ll do well. You always do.”

  Katniss slipped through the door, and Finnick perched on the edge of the desk. His eyes sparkled as he observed his friend.

  “Katniss, huh?” he mused. “Is that—? That’s the girl you told me about? The one who makes you want to throw your career to the wind and do her on the classroom floor?”

  “Shut up, Finn.”

  “But that’s her?”

  “Yes, it’s her! And thanks for the email earlier. I just happened to open it right before she knocked on my door. Talk about awkward.”

  “What email?”

  Peeta turned his computer screen so Finnick could see it and brought up the link. When he clicked it, Finnick guffawed. “She’s the spitting image.”

  “I know. Thanks for sending porn to my work email, asshole.”

  Finnick laughed and slapped Peeta’s shoulder. “I must have copied the wrong link. That was supposed to be an invite to the end of the semester party at my house next week.”

  “Well, that makes more sense.”

  “Come on. I need a drink after grading that last set of essays, and my wife’s out of town.”

  “Give me a second.”

  “What could possibly be more important than drinking alcohol with me?”

  Peeta grinned at his friend and answered, “I’m forwarding that email to my personal account. No sense letting good porn go to waste.”

[moccahobi]

Crashes and Naps Pt. 1 [Hoseok x Reader]

Summery: You’re a college student who works as an EMT in your free time, but when you pick up a mysterious hybrid without an owner, your free time seems to change.

Part 1 >> Part 2

Let me know if you want to be tagged when the next one comes out!

You sighed and rolled over on the on-call room couch. The couch was worn down and stained from decades of it being used but none the less sleep washed over you like waves, a dream of your spring break entertaining your barely-awake mind. There were no large plans for your break but it was the light at the end of your very dark premed school tunnel. You had this last twelve hour shift before you were going home to your tiny apartment and only leaving for groceries and your job, three anime series and a k-drama already calling to you on your computer. Spring break was going to be amazing. The sound of the ambulance alarm yanked you out of your dreaming, sleep already leaving your mind from nearly 3 years of  EMT service as you jumped to go to the departure dock, already shrugging on your gear and running towards where you were needed. 

As soon as you were there, you hopped into the back and sat down with Hyuik, the paramedic you were assigned to assist since the beginning of last semester. 

“What’s the call for?” You asked, your breathing labored and the ambulance springing into action once the other two EMTs got into the front seats.

“A hybrid was hit by a car.” Hyuik said, his knee bouncing quickly as the ambulance sped towards elsewhere in the city, “The caller said he was unconscious.” 

“I just hope that they weren’t pressured to go in front of that car because their owner, if they have an owner that is. Mina said that she had to help a hybrid who had that happen to them last week.” You sighed and shook your head. The rest of the ride towards the accident site silent as you and Hiyuk sat in silence, your mind flashing to the worst case scenarios around what could possibly have happened before calming down and focusing at the task at hand.

Once the ambulance arrived at the accident site, everything happened in a flash.

One second you and Hiyuk were bursting through the back doors.

The shotgun and driver EMTs came to load the unconscious man onto a stretcher.

You looked to see if anyone was the hybrid’s owner. 

No one was when you asked. The man who called you not wanting to have any other affiliation with the hybrid. 

You quickly jumped in and closed the doors as the ambulance sped off. The g-force almost enough to make you not focus on taking the man’s vitals. Hiyuk had long since gotten used to the g-force of a speeding ambulance and calmly sat next to the man as he treated the worst injury.

“John Doe is in a stable condition but te definitely isn’t a common hybrid. Is there a hybrid specialist in the ER today?” You asked after once you logged all the stats you could. You were looking at his tiny bead like ears that were hidden in the man’s matted hair.

“No.” 

Soon enough, you’d made it back to the hospital and the driver and shotgun EMTs were coming around to roll the man to the ICU quickly. 

You were speeding after them.

Doctors and nurses ran towards you four to work with him as you listed off all the information you’d gotten from your examinations before handing the sheet you wrote it all down on to one of the nurses who was listening to you. 

Soon enough your job with nurses and doctors was done and you went back to the ambulance to clean off everything in the back. It generally took you an hour or two to finish sterilizing everything and by then you knew that if there wasn’t another call, you’d want to check up on the hybrid you saved. It was something you did any time you worked with patients sure but there was something about the man you saved that made you want to go and be positive that he was ok.

Luckily, you didn’t have another call after you finished cleaning the ambulance and after talking with one of the nurses who was working with him you quickly walked towards the hybrid’s room. Once you were in front of his room though, you saw two nurses talking outside his door. 

That was almost never a good sign. 

From what’d you’d gathered in med school, it often meant that they wanted to talk about the patient with each other without him knowing.

Was he in worse condition than Hyuik and you originally thought? 

Had someone come forwards as his owner and they suspect abuse?

Does he have to go somewhere else to get proper treatment?

Did he have to go to some center after this?

“He’s not registered.” One nurse whispered, a deep set frown etched on her face, her wrinkles dragging her frown closer to her chin. 

“We’ll need to send him to the nearest adoption center, then.” The other nodded, looking at her clipboard before looking her superior in the face and nodding once again.

Their words struck a chord in you as you felt your heart sink. Unregistered hybrids were notoriously mistreated in adoption centers or sold into some hybrid trafficking ring due to them having no legal presence whatsoever. The nearest center was worse from what you’d heard. It seemed to have a record of shamelessly selling hybrids to the highest bidder and abusing even registered hybrids.  

You sighed, you knew that this would be stupid to propose but... “Excuse me, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on your all’s conversation, but I was the EMT who worked on him in the ambulance, and if he’s unregistered, I’d be happy to… to adopt him.” You cringed at the thought of your bank account as you said those words, but your gut was telling you that it was the right thing to do. No hybrid- no human- should be mistreated. 

Ever.

The nurses looked at you with shock written all over their faces, “A-are you sure? I know you must not want to see him get hurt, but it’s a big commitment to take in a hybrid. They’re basically a roommate that doesn’t pay rent or for food, and they require a lot of attention.” The nurse covered in wrinkles asked, worry written all over her face as she mumbled something about the twelve hour shifts and one hundred hour shifts that students had to take hurting my mental health.

“Unless they have a job, but he’s unregistered so he won’t have one.” The other added, shaking her head and smiling lightly at the older nurse.

You nodded, “So I’ve heard, but… I can’t let him just go to the nearest adoption center..” A conviction you didn’t remember having resounding in your voice.

“If you’re so sure.” 

Before you could process the situation, you had shelled out almost all of your savings for the hybrid and was sitting next to his hospital bed, praying that you weren’t called out to the ambulance again. 

Sadly, while he was still unconscious you were called away to help someone else. It was only after three more calls and the end of your on call shift eight hours later you were finally able to visit your new hybrid again. You could only imagine how scared he was now since you hadn’t once gone to see him while he was conscious since you’d adopted him.He was awake by that point and seemed to look extremely scared by the time you had entered as you had feared. 

“Hey, I’m Y/N.” You tried to speak softly, your hand out in front of you as you slowly inched towards the man, “I’ll be your new owner. I’m sorry for coming late. I helped you in the ambulance but shortly after I finished the papers I was called back out.” 

“I don’t need an owner.” He hissed, sitting up and looking as if he was ready to attack. You were shocked by the change in his demeanor but tried to keep getting closer, if only so that he could smell that you meant no harm.

“I was fine on my own.” He hissed and slapped your hand away when you moved to sit in the chair near him.

“Ok, I understand that.” You tried to remain calm, but somewhere deep inside, you were hurt by him not wanting to sniff your hand or have you as his owner, “Just at least let me take care of you until you’re fully healed, ok?”

He hesitated and you took that as your que to continue talking, “I’ve registered you as mine and have pulled an insurance out for you, so once you’re back out- if you want to go back out- you can be a little safer.” 

You tried again, “I don’t want you to have to go to some adoption center here as well. They’re not safe places.”

“I know that. Why the fuck do you think I was living on the streets.” He asked, his voice harsh with anger. Although you’d grown to imagine his aggression as a front to scare you away. As if that would work.

“I honestly didn’t want to assume anything. That’s why I put some generic came on the registration and insurance forms and hope to change them as I know your real one.” 

His eyebrows rose, “You want me to pick a name?”

“I want to use the name that you go by.” You clarified, “Someone your age must have a name they like by now- especially since you lived on the streets.” 

His eyes widened as he fell back onto his back, “No human has ever asked for my name. I-It’s Hoseok.” 

You nodded lightly, a tiny amount of anger nestling in your gut. Why would people think that he didn’t deserve to use the name he goes by with his friends and family? He’s not a baby! It’s not like he wouldn’t have been using something with his friends while on the street! 

You took a deep breath before speaking, “Listen Hoseok-ah, I am happy with you leaving my home once you recover, but please… just stay with me until you have recovered. I hate the idea of you having to live out on the streets while hurt. So please, humor me until you’re completely healed.” You didn’t want to move at all.

You didn’t even look him in the eyes as you tried to convince him to stay with you. You’d thought back to your class on the subtle languages of animals and knew that it should translate here. You sighed and looked at the ground before looking slightly at Hoseok.

You heard shuffling, “Fine, but if you try to pull anything on me, I will attack and leave. Got it?”

You nodded, immediately feeling relief, “Is there anything I can get in preparation for you staying with me? Clothes, food, other supplies? You have to stay here for another five hours and I want my home to be prepared for your arrival.”

Soon enough you had a large list of things Hoseok wanted and finished preparing (which was harder than you’d originally thought it would be) you went back to the hospital to check on Hoseok and maybe get to know the hybrid better (you’d found out while filling out the registration forms that he was in fact an otter hybrid). You wanted to get to know him better before bringing him home so he could be as comfortable with you as he could be when he was finally discharged. Although as you got closer, you heard people talking and laughing in Hoseok’s hospital room and by the time you’d made it to his opened door you saw Hoseok laying back and laughing with a large group of other hybrids. His smile, his laughter, and his happiness in that moment made you smile yourself. 

How could you interrupt something as sweet as him spending time with his friends?

Simple answer: You couldn’t. 

You smiled lightly at him (not that he noticed, he was too busy laughing as some of his friends goofed off) before you turned around and went to take a nap in one of the unused on call rooms. 

You could always use the next two hours to get a little more sleep.

[yehet-me-up]

Ablaze

Pairing: Mark Tuan x Reader (female)

Word Count: 10,674

Genre: Soulmate AU, Professor/College AU, Smut

Rating: (M) for language and explicit sex

Summary: They called you “Ice Queen” all throughout elementary school. Even now, as a graduate student, the nickname still stings. As if your inability to feel heat means you’re cold-hearted too. You decide to pursue a degree in Biochemistry, desperate to figure out the reason why you are the way you are. 

Mark Tuan, everyone’s favorite hotshot professor, can pass his hand through an open flame due to a similar inability. Until the day you walk into his class, that is.

↳ Oneshot as part of The Inevitability of You collab with @kpop-wetdreams and @mak-baes 💜

A light breeze blows across campus, rustling the leaves above you, making you huddle further into your coat. Mid-September and the weather is still warm and sunny. Or you guess it must be, considering how many students are sitting together, studying or talking on blankets spread out on the quad’s lawn.

You guess it must be warm, because you’ve never felt warmth in your life. It’s not to say you’re freezing cold all the time; if you fill the bathtub with hot water you can almost feel… something. A flicker of the sensation your sister and parents have tried to describe time and time again. 

Cold, now that’s something you can feel. Snow, ice, the freezing rain that falls in the evenings here in the late winter – those you are intimately familiar with.

You hold out your hand as you walk across campus, watching the light fall on your skin in patterns. Frowning at the lack of sensation, you clench your fist and stick your hands back in your pockets. When it’s warm like this you just feel… an absence. A void where you know something should be, like a phantom limb; the aching sensation of nothing.

A buzzing in your pocket draws your attention and you pull your phone out to a message from your friend Kelly.

[Kelly 1:15pm] running a little late because of who I am as a person [Kelly 1:15pm] save me a seat???

You smirk to yourself. She’s likely running a little late because of her boyfriend, Adam. But boyfriend seems like too small of a word to convey their relationship. He’s her soulmate. They’re in the lucky 3-5% of the population that’s found their biologically fated match.

You had watched in amazement as Kelly’s ability to taste sweetness had come to life just after winter break, one afternoon in the cafeteria during your junior year of high school. 

You were sitting next to her, chatting with some of your other friends, when suddenly she dropped the cookie she was eating. She’d turned to you with wide eyes, reflexively bringing her hand to her lips in awe.

“What is it, Kel?” you’d asked, concerned.

“I – it’s – I think I can taste this…” she’d said, staring at it with such concentration it could have been a bomb about to go off. She’d licked her lips and sat up in her seat, whipping her head around.

You’d both turned to look at the other kids in the cafeteria. You saw him instantly - a new boy was standing at the cashier, paying for his food. He picked up his tray and lifted his eyes, sweeping the room to find a spot to sit. Kelly, in her usual exuberance, had stood up and waved him over.

He furrowed his brow, turning to look behind him for a moment, thinking she was waving to someone else. Once he realized she was motioning to him he’d given her a cute smile and come over, taking the spot across from Kelly and introducing himself.

“So – what’s your deficiency?” she’d asked the moment he said his name, staring him down.

“God, Kelly. No one uses that word any more. It’s not PC. My mom says we’re supposed to use ‘inability.’” Laura had said with a condescending tone.

“Whatever,” Kelly had said, waving Laura off. “What’s your inability, then, new boy?”

He’d stuttered, clearly unaccustomed to discussing something so sensitive in such a bold way. “Oh – umm, well I can’t taste salty things,” Adam had said in a low voice.

“Laura, give me some of your chips,” Kelly had said, snatching the bag and handing it across the table to Adam. “She always buys these super salty chips, can you taste them?” she’d demanded.

Adam had looked at her like she was crazy, but with a shake of his head he’d shrugged and popped one in his mouth. He had chewed thoughtfully for a moment before his eyes had gone wide and he started nodding furiously.

“Holy shit,” he’d whispered loudly. “Wait – how did you know?”

She’d grinned mischievously at him, holding his gaze as she picks up her discarded cookie and takes another bite.

“Well new boy, until today I couldn’t taste sweetness. I guess that means we’re soulmates, huh?” she’d said matter-of-factly.

They’d been inseparable from that day on. They were one of only six other confirmed matches in your high school, they’d had the test done just before graduation. It was something new the government was working on, a blood test to confirm the presence of a matching chemical, supposedly only released between soulmates.

[Y/N 1:17pm] god I’d say get a room but I have a feeling you’re just coming from one [Kelly 1:17pm] ha freaking ha [Y/N 1:18pm] *sigh* fineee I’ll save you a seat [Kelly 1:18pm] you’re the best [Kelly 1:19pm] when you find your soul mate I’ll cover for you too ;)

You smirk as you click the phone off, sliding it back into your pocket. The steps to the science building are packing with students flooding out of classes, excitedly heading out into the sunshine. You’re delighted to be doing the opposite – to be heading into your first two hour lecture for The Science of Soul Mates.

Kelly is taking the class for fun, you’re required to do 20 credits of upper level seminars for your Biochemistry Master’s degree. This course is newly offered by Professor Mark Tuan. It’s open to any student on campus, so even Kelly, an MFA student in creative writing wanted to sign up. The interest in the class was apparently through the roof and you’d both only gotten seats because you have priority registration as graduate students.

You pull open the heavy doors and head up to the second floor to the lecture hall. The room is just starting to fill up and about half of the hundred or so seats are filled. You head to your preferred spot near the back of the small auditorium, finding a space in the middle of the row and setting your bag next to you to save Kelly’s seat.

She rushes in five minutes before the class is supposed to start. You smother a smile as she sits down with a sigh. She turns to look at you and notices your barely contained laughter.

“What?” she demands as she pulls her laptop out from her bag.

You lean over and fix the strands of hair that had fallen into her face. “You had sex hair, Kels,” you laugh.

She groans. “Oh my god, I’m going to kill Adam. He was supposed to make sure I looked presentable.”

“Well I’d say he failed spectacularly at that,” you say with a wry smile as you make a new Google doc on your Drive, getting ready to take notes. “I am so excited for this class, you don’t even know.”

“You’re such a nerd, why do I hang out with you?” Kelly asks with a laugh.

“Because you love me. And how are you not freaking out? His research is groundbreaking, I’m dying to hear what he’s found,” you say. 

Ever since you decided to pursue Biochemistry as a profession you’ve been hearing his name, reading his published articles. You’ve been anxiously waiting for a chance to talk to him about your theories.

“Yeah, I hear he’s some genius prodigy. Adam says the University president was thrilled that he agreed to teach here, said that it was ‘the get of the century.’ He got his doctorate at what, twenty four?” she says, amazed.

“Twenty three, he’s been doing research this last year,” you reply automatically. “I just hope that everyone isn’t just signing up for this class because he’s supposedly gorgeous,” you say with a frown, looking around at the overwhelming number of female students in the class.

“Supposedly? You mean you haven’t seen him around campus this week?” Kelly asks, raising a brow at you. You shake your head. “Well girl, you are in for a treat. He’s better than gorgeous – he’s hot as fuck,” she says with a knowing grin. 

You open your mouth to chastise her but she cuts you off. “Yes, I know he has a heat inability, but hey, it’s true. I think I’d burn myself just touching him,” she says dramatically, shaking her hand and wincing as if she was in pain.

You shake your head and turn your attention back to your computer, a wave of guilt washing over you. His inability to feel heat has made him a legend - every interview and feature article loves to use a pun about it. 

Yours on the other hand had made you a pariah. You’d made the decision to lie about it after sixth grade, so Kelly had no idea what your true weakness was.

Ever since Ben Mezrich had called you “Ice Queen” in the cafeteria and poured scalding hot, or so you’d been told, soup down your back you’d decided it was better to keep the truth to yourself. You forced your parents to let you go to a public school for high school and had started telling everyone that you couldn’t taste bitterness – it was laughably easy to fake.

In the decades since humanity had noticed these sensory deprivations evolving, myths had started to form. Can’t see certain colors? You must be narrow-minded. Can’t feel cold? Must be a hothead. Can’t feel heat? Well, then you must not have a heart. Even all these years later you still feel a shudder of fear and shame at the nasty names and rumors that had spread about you.

You see a movement in the front of class and look up to see a man walk into class. He sets his bag on the table and looks around at the now packed auditorium, an easy smile on his handsome face. You look over at Kelly and she’s dramatically raising her eyebrows at you. She’s right – he’s gorgeous.

His messy blonde hair falls into his eyes and his face is classically handsome in an almost painful way. He wears a thick grey coat similar to yours. Kelly always makes fun of you for your warm clothes and you dodge her questions as casually as you can. You always brush her off, saying that you just run cold.

The buzzing of discussion quiets down as he moves around to the front of the class, leaning casually back against the desk and looking up into the room.

“Hello and welcome, everyone. I assume you know who I am, but I’ll introduce myself in case any of you wandered in here by accident,” he says in a conversational tone. A ripple of laughter goes through the crowd. This is supposedly his first class, but he acts like he’s been doing this for years.

“I’m Mark Tuan, but I’ll fail you automatically if you try to call me Mr. Tuan,” he says gamely. “Please, it’s Mark. And while I’ll be doing a lot of talking and presenting in this class, I really want it to be a discussion. The concept of a biological soulmate is just now being seriously studied, and as far as I’m concerned, we’re in this together.”

He folds his arms across his chest, his coat falling open. You can’t help but notice how strong and lean his body looks in the grey sweater and dark jeans he wears. “Now, I suppose the first question in this sort of class is – have any of you met your soulmate?”

Everyone looks around, whispering excitedly. Kelly raises her hand, confident as always, unconcerned that she has a hundred people looking at her. Two other girls raise their hands as well, toward the front of the room.

“Excellent, would you mind telling us about it?” he asks, pointing to the first girl, a hungry look in his eyes. “How you met, what your inabilities are, if you’ve had the official test? Whatever you’re comfortable sharing.”

She goes on to detail how she and her partner met last year at a party. The next girl goes, saying that she met her soul mate at a soccer tournament out of state. Kelly goes last, sharing her story, a sweet smile coming to her lips as she finishes and you know she’s thinking about Adam and the happy years they’ve had together so far.

Several of the girls in the class are looking starry-eyed, wistful smiles on their lips as they treat these three stories as confirmation of the fairy tales they’ve been told about soulmates all their lives. You roll your eyes, drawing Mark’s attention. He quirks and eyebrow up at you and you quickly look down at your laptop, pretending like you are typing.

“Fantastic, thanks so much for sharing. We’re right on par with the rest of the world,” he says, pacing back and forth in front of the class as he speaks. “As far as recent studies can tell, approximately three to five percent of the population has found their soulmate, and of that about half have had the government supplied blood test to confirm it.”

“But beyond that – there are so many unanswered questions,” he turns to look up into the stands, his gaze lands on you. 

You fidget as he gives you a lopsided smile, his eyes holding yours for a long second before moving on. Your coat suddenly feels too heavy. You slip it off your shoulders and shrug out of it as he continues.

“So. What do we know for sure? As far as we can tell everyone has just one soulmate. There have been a few reports of people finding a second, but none have been confirmed using the test. The chemical that’s secreted into the blood stream, affectionately known by us in the field as Cupid X, rises in proximity to one’s soul mate, accompanied by a scientifically verifiable reversal of one’s inability.”

“Over the past year I’ve been working with confirmed soulmate couples, testing how this reversal is affected by prolonged proximity as opposed to separation. We’ve been able to pinpoint the distance at about a hundred feet. Further than that and it seems like there’s no effect.”

“It’s maddening, isn’t it? To think that you could pass within a football field’s length of your soulmate, somewhere out in the world – but completely miss them? Fate sure can be a bitch sometimes, can’t she?” he asks with a smirk.

“Anyways, back to the science, since that is why you’re here. I’m working with the University to set up more research with their funding, but the question remains – where do we go next? There’s so many paths we could go down,” he says, his eyes lighting up as they sweep the room. You unconsciously push the sleeves of your sweater up your arms as you lean forward, fascinated.

“For example - is there anyone in the world with two or more inabilities? Does everyone just have one? How does love come into play – does the emotional connection heighten the physical bond? What about the millions of couples who’ve fallen in love but aren’t soulmates? And is this merely a helpful hint from nature, or does this evolution in our genetics signify a larger change?”

He brings his arms out in front of him, gesturing emphatically. “But that’s why this science is so fascinating – there’s still so much that we don’t know. It’s only been in the last twenty or so years that the concept has even been on humanity’s radar; and only in the last ten or so that it’s been seriously studied.” 

He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Sorry – I tend to get carried away. It looks like class is just about up, but before I assign you the reading allow me a demonstration,” he says, turning to pull something out of his bag on the desk.

“How many of you discovered your inability before you could speak?” he asks, pulling out a lighter.

A small handful of people raise their hands in assent. “Research shows that the vast majority of people, over seventy-five perfect, discover which sense is affected in elementary school, between the ages of five and eight,” he says, holding up the lighter with a smirk.

“I discovered mine quite early, in the days before parents began obsessively running tests on newborns. When I was three years old I knocked a candle off the table. It fell on me, on my pants, lighting them instantly. My parents screamed, throwing me into the shower and turning on the water, trying to limit how bad the burns would be. But there wasn’t a mark on me. They said I didn’t even scream,” he says, trailing off as his eyes focus on the lighter in his hand.

With a cocky grin he flicks the lighter on. A small flame appears and he runs his hand through the flame, slowly, with the confidence of some who’s done it a thousand times. But when his hand brushes the top of the flame he gasps, hissing in pain, clutching his hand to his chest reflexively and dropping the lighter.

He stares at his hand in shock and fear. The red spot forming on the wide part of his palm near his pinky finger is visible even from your seat in the back. The class starts murmuring in confusion and speculation.

A sensation on your forehead draws your attention, an unusual itching feeling. You draw your finger across the skin there, trying to relieve it. When you pull your hand back you notice a drop of moisture on your finger. Your eyes go wide in realization – staring between the drop of sweat and Mark who’s still reeling in confusion up at the front.

You whip your head around to look at your coat, down at your exposed forearms from your rolled up sweater. The synapses in your brain finally connect these disparate facts, the realization slamming into you like a freight train.

“Oh shit,” you whisper to yourself.

“What’s that?” Kelly asks, leaning over to you, her gaze still drawn to Mark at the front of the class.

“Nothing, I think I’m getting sick, that’s all,” you say in what you hope is a casual tone of voice.

A moment later, Mark composes himself. “I promise I didn’t do that just for dramatic effect,” he starts, valiantly trying to contain his surprise but obviously still reeling. “I guess I’ve come to the right place. It seems like I might just be in that three to five percent after all…” he say softly, trailing off. He turns the wrist on his non-burned hand, looking at his watch.

“Anyways, class is almost up and I’ve got to go and find some burn cream it looks like,” he says with a laugh. “Read the first three chapters in your text and complete the attached prompt on page seventy-nine for our next class,” he finishes. 

Everyone starts grabbing backpacks, shuffling papers, and standing, moving toward the door.

“I’ve got to meet up with my study group, see you later Kels?” you lie, avoiding her eyes, desperate to get out of the room.

She gives you a surprised look, but nods after a beat. You forcefully shove your laptop into your bag and pick up your coat in a rush. Standing abruptly, you move down the aisle and start down the steps, hugging the wall as you try to stay far away from Mark on your way out the door.

Once you reach the front of the building you push open the doors and step into the sunlight, holding your hands out in front of you. You stare in awe as you feel a sensation on the skin of your palms… something new, something wholly unexpected. Your eyes go misty and you tilt your head up to look at the sun, still visible high on the horizon.

“Huh. So this is heat,” you say softly to yourself. Tears spill down your cheeks, hastened by the swirling emotions inside of you – excitement, fear, relief, confusion, anger. With a shake of your head you dash down the steps toward your apartment.  

Even after the last student leaves class, he still stands there, brow furrowed, staring at the bright red burn on his hand. He’s done that little parlor trick for years. In high school to impress his friends, in college to impress girls. The wound still stings, but he can’t make himself move.

Suddenly his rational mind kicks into gear – studies haven’t yet found how long one needs to be in the presence of their soulmate for the inability to fade, or how quickly the effect fades after exposure. It could have been someone in line ahead of him at Starbucks while he was catching up with a friend that morning. It could have been a visiting lecturer he passed in the halls. He doesn’t know how long he has.

Abruptly he turns, picking up the lighter and shoving it in his bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he runs from the room. He sprints across campus, his bag smacking into his hip with every step. He distantly notices that he feels something on his skin where it’s exposed to the setting sun. But he’s never been the type to bemoan the fact that he couldn’t enjoy the sun on days at the beach with his friends growing up.

Nor has he cared about missing out on hot chocolate, sitting in front of a fire on a cold winter night, or if he’s honest – the heat that was supposed to come from being with a lover. But there’s always been one fantasy of his that he desperately hopes he can fulfill before the effect fades.

He dashes up the steps to his apartment, throws open the door and kicks it shut behind him. He tears off his bag and kicks off his shoes as he moves to the bathroom. He rips the curtain back, twists the knob all the way to the left and turns the flow of water on. 

Steam fills the small room as he frantically pulls off his clothes – the mist in the air had always been an object before, something inanimate that barely deserved notice.

But as he inhales he knows that steam, that heat, is a living thing. It presses against his naked skin, envelops him in what he can finally recognize as warmth. Like a word in a foreign language, just out of reach beyond comprehension that he’s suddenly learned the meaning to. He tentatively reaches his hand under the spray, practically trembling in hope.

Relief rushes through him. A fierce surge of joy – it’s hot. He lets out a choked noise and steps in. He winces at the scalding temperature, but he couldn’t care less. He ducks his head under the flow of water, laughing in delight as the it runs down his face, his back. He stays there for countless minutes, lost in the pleasure.

When he finally pulls back he sits down on the floor of the shower, letting the water run over him. He holds his hands out in front of him, staring intently as the drops spill between his spread fingers.

His logical mind works first, as it always has. Who is his soulmate? Where did he meet you? How can he find you again? Does he even want to? Of course I do, he thinks with a shake of his head. 

How wonderfully unexpected that he, one of the leading experts in the world on the biochemistry of soulmates, had an experience like this of his own. He feels like he’s just discovered a new species, a new element, a new planet.

Then comes the longing; possibilities explode in his mind. The word soulmate has always been clinical – a fanciful description for a biological concept. But now he can’t help but wonder what it would be like to share his life with someone who was fated to be his. He wonders what it would be like to belong to someone, to have them be made for him and vice versa.

His attention returns to the water. The sensation is fading. The water is still hot, if the steam surrounding him is any indication, but he can no longer feel it. With a shake of his head he heaves himself off the floor and turns off the water. He grabs a towel and as he dries off he starts to formulate a plan.

Over the next days and weeks he keeps a log, he starts experimenting, recording.

He thinks back to everything he did that day and tries to recreate it. He visits that same Starbucks every morning for a week; lingering, waiting. But no dice. 

He follows the same pattern he took to class the same day of the week, staring up at the red brick buildings covered in ivy, wondering who you could be with a whistful smile. He wonders if he’s being silly; if the chance meeting was literally a once in a lifetime occurance.

But the sensation returns, over and over. At night he writes pages of notes, describing the rise and fall of heat - how quickly it comes on, how strong it is, how long it lasts. 

Two weeks into the quarter and he’s narrowed it down – it’s got to be someone in his class. The sense doesn’t come on at all during the other five days of the week.

The day of the seventh session of class he doesn’t leave his apartment except to go to science building. He wakes up at the crack of dawn and rushes over to his lab on the fifth level of the building, staying in his office until it’s time to go to class.

He carries a hot pack with him, the kind that stays warm for hours, tucked in his coat pocket. As the students file in he greets them with a nod of his head, his hand anxiously holding the pack in his pocket. The sense flares to life abruptly, unexpectedly and he grins broadly in triumph.

One hundred students, he thinks, scanning every face as they unpack backpacks, talk with each other. Three already have soulmates, he thinks, and unless he’s a statistical anomaly it’s unlikely that he’s matched with someone who’s already found theirs.

Thirty one are male students. There are plenty of documented cases of same sex soulmates being found, but he has a theory that a person’s sexuality comes into play. He’s almost positive that the attraction will be matched between partners, and as he’s straight, he’s confident that his partner will be female.

So that leaves sixty six. Sixty six possibilities. As he looks from face to face he meets a lot of eager faces, coy smiles trying to catch his eye. Game on, he thinks, his mind already filling with ideas on how he can narrow it down.

For the next several weeks you manage to avoid Mark Tuan outside of class. You wait in the women’s room before it starts, always giving Kelly some excuse of why you keep coming in right at the last second. The second class ends you push your way out the door, some excuse on your lips. 

After your initial emotional reaction, you’ve decided on anger. How dare this man be your soulmate? If you had told anyone about this, Kelly for instance, you would have described this turn of events as ‘highly inconvenient.’ How are you supposed to ask him your questions, tell him your theories now?

Fed up after you turn down her third offer this week to hang out, Kelly barges into your apartment and drags you out of your unintentional isolation to go to a party with her and Adam. 

As the night goes on you relax. You drink awful rum and cokes, laugh at Adam’s endearingly bad jokes, and talk with Kelly about the other classes she’s taking for her MFA. For a few hours you forget all about Mark Tuan.

“Holy shit - Ice Queen? Is that you?” a male voice calls off to your right abruptly.

Turning your head you see a tall, burly man making his way through the crowd do you. “Oh fuck,” you say out loud and Kelly swivels her head in his direction.

Ben Mezrich. Even here, at college - on the other side of the state - you can’t escape him. He’s broader, his hair buzz cut short. Mark’s words on the first day of class come back to you. Fate, you bitch, you think sarcastically, your lips twisting into a savage smile.

He finally reaches you, putting his hand on your shoulder, either not realizing how intrusive the motion is or not caring in his drunken state. “What are you doing here?” he slurs.

“I go to school here, Ben,” you say flatly. “What about you?”

“Oh, I work here. My girlfriend got me a job at her dad’s bank downtown. So, are you still a frigid bitch?” he asks, sloppily waggling his eyebrows up and down as he brazenly check you out.

Your forced smile drops, your eyes turning hard as you stare him down. He gets bored after a moment, as if your silence renders you invisible to him, and with a shrug he turns around and blunders back through the crowd to his friends.

Kelly puts a hand on your arm, turning you to face her. “Y/N, what was that all about?” she says, not unkindly, with an inquisitive raise of her brow. “Why was that asshole calling you ‘ice queen’?”

You sigh and take a large sip of your drink. “Kels, you know how I always said I can’t taste bitterness?” She nods. “Well, that’s kind of... a lie. Guys like Ben used to pick on me growing up; all those myths about heat deficiency meaning you’re a ‘cold robot’ got to them.”

You tell her the story of the awful day with the soup. “I just wanted to be someone else for a while, so I lied. I’m sorry,” you say when it’s over, staring down into your cup.

She clicks her tongue and you look up cautiously. “God, you think I care about that? Inabilities are totally your private business, I’d never hold it against you for not telling me,” she says, giving you a warm smile and squeezing your arm.

“But holy shit, was that why you ran out of class that day? Why you’ve been avoiding people like the plague? Did your sense come back? Is Mark fucking Tuan your soulmate?” she yells, her excitement bubbling over.

You sigh dramatically and down the rest of your drink. “I think he might be,” you say noncommittally, looking anywhere but her face.

“Wait wait wait. Why haven’t you told him?” she demands, her eyes wide with excitement.

You open your mouth to speak, but snap it shut. What can you say? That you’re afraid, that you’re pissed off, that you’re confused – all of your life plans thrown out of whack?

“Ugh, I was so focused coming into this degree. When I found out he’d be a professor, it was everything I wanted. Kick ass in his class, win a spot on his research team, spend my days working on this fascinating science,” you say. “But this recent development makes things… challenging.”

She gives you a teasing smirk. “I’ve never known you to be one to turn down a challenge,” she says, clinking her empty cup to yours.

You shake your head in amusement, a wry smile coming to your lips.

You decide to get creative. After class one day you just email him instead. You send him your latest theory about the soulmate bond developing out of an ideal combination of genes for procreation, asking his thoughts.

He responds an hour later with some articles he’s found on the offspring of confirmed soulmates, noting their higher intelligence ratings. You counter with a study that found no noticeable difference in the intelligence, physical abilities, or attractiveness of the children of soulmates.

You end up emailing back and forth for hours, late into the night. His mind is fascinating, the way he pushes you to consider other ideas, the disparate sources he draws from. He’s incredibly well read, curious, and open-minded – he doesn’t ever turn down your ideas, he considers them thoroughly, fairly.

Against your better judgment, you like him even more. You roll your neck, standing to grab a cup of tea. As you stir, your mind wanders to how he looked today.

The connection, the rise in heat, is instant, for both of you it seems. You come to class bundled up but now you’ve come to expect the rush of heat and take off your layers as soon as you sit down. 

He does the same. Today he’d come to class and pulled off his coat, revealing narrow fitting slacks and a tight, deep blue button-up shirt. He looked so good you almost broke your pen in half in a rush of frustration and desire.

You shake your head to yourself as you walk back to your spot. This soulmate thing is entertaining at least, you think. You fold your leg up underneath you on the couch, taking a sip as you wait for his reply. The message comes through a moment later.

Why don’t you stay after class tomorrow and we can discuss this further?

“Shit,” you say to yourself.

“Just do it,” Kelly stage whispers in your ear the next day while you both wait on the stairs for people to file out in front of you.

“No,” you reply with a swift shake of your head. You’ve already decided not to talk to him, leaving his email unanswered. Besides, there are tons of people in this class, there’s no way he can know which one you are, you tell yourself.

A tightness comes to your chest as you stand there, willing the students in front of you to move faster. You tap your foot nervously. The secret you carry, that you’re his soulmate, feels like it’s clawing at your throat. As if it’s going to burst from your lips if you don’t keep your focus every second you’re around him. 

Finally, the line starts moving.

Kelly pauses by the door, rummaging in her purse, people flowing out the door around you two. “Hey babe, can you hold this for a sec?” she asks, holding her coffee thermos out.

“Sure,” you say, your eyes darting back and forth anxiously between her and where Mark is putting papers back in his briefcase. You reach out and distractedly take her metal travel mug.

“Ahh,” you hiss loudly, wincing in surprise as your bare palm touches the hot metal of the container. You barely manage to avoid dropping it, bringing your other hand up to clasp it as well.

Your eyes meet with Mark’s as he looks up in alarm at your noise of alarm. You close your eyes tightly for a moment, then open them to look at Kelly in disapproval. She’s abandoned the pretense of taking something out of her bag and has folded her arms, giving you a smug look of satisfaction.

“Oh, sorry about that Y/N. I keep forgetting,” she says dramatically with feigned casualness.

You tear your gaze away from Mark and stare daggers at her. You thrust the thermos at her, grabbing her arm in yours and steering her toward the door. Panic rises in you, you hope that he didn’t notice. But damn him, he’s too quick and observant for his own good.

“Wait – you have a heat deficiency, too?” he calls from behind you and you reluctantly turn around.

“Well she did,” Kelly says slowly with a smirk. “Until the beginning of your class.” She winks at you and pushes out the door.

It closes with a soft thud, leaving you and Mark alone in the room together. You regard each other, keeping your distance. He looks you up and down appreciatively, as if he can’t believe you’re real.

“It’s been you this whole time?” he says, incredulous, looking you up and down. “Wait, you’re not the Y/N that was messaging me last night too, are you?”

You nod slowly. “Wow, beautiful and intelligent too, I think I won the soulmate lottery,” he says with a wide, lazy grin.

You scoff. “Just because I’m your soulmate doesn’t mean I’m automatically going to sleep with you,” you deadpan, feeling feisty at being reminded of the fact that you’re supposedly fated to be together. “You don’t have to try to charm me.”

He bursts out laughing, bending over at his waist. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips. Against your better judgment, you finally accept that you like him. He doesn’t have to know that, though, you think.

“And devastatingly sassy, too. I love you already,” he says as he straightens up, his face still alight with amusement. “This is so surreal. Do you want to go get a drink?”

You let out a laugh and shrug. “Sure, why not?”

“So, about your latest theory – where did you find your source, that article about the different ethnic groups study?” he asks, walking over to hold the door open for you.

You pick up the thread of the conversation, grateful that he doesn’t push you to talk about a potential relationship, or whatever it would be between you two. He chooses a restaurant down the street and you both order burgers and beer, bouncing ideas back and forth at a rapid pace.

He’s even more charming and articulate in person, you think as you take a sip, watching him as he relates his colleague’s idea about the differences and similarities in chemical reaction between soulmates and confirmed non-soulmates that are in love.

He’s even more attractive up close, you think with a sigh. You wonder if it’s like this for other people, for those non-soulmates who love each other. If they’re drawn to each other this viscerally. 

It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. The closest thing you can relate it to is the studies you’ve read about addiction. That the more you ingest something – sugar, caffeine, heroin – the more that you crave it.

You’re suddenly afraid of needing him, of wanting something that intensely. 

You take a huge sip of your drink. The feelings rising in you for him, both physical and emotional, feel ominous, terrifying. Like a tsunami that you can feel in your bones is coming, but that you yet spot on the horizon.

“So, have you had sex before? How was it for you?” he asks curiously. You look up abruptly, startled out of your thoughts by his question.

There’s a devilish look in his eyes that tells you he’s acutely aware of the line between academic and personal that he’s just crossed. You hesitate, hovering on the line, wondering if you should step across it with him. After a beat you decide to just go for it.

“Yes, with my boyfriend in college. It was… fine. I guess. Like it was physically pleasurable, but more like – a relaxing massage. Or that feeling of when you go over the top of a roller coaster, and you plummet down.”

He’s watching you curiously, toying the rim of his bottle against his lips. “But I’ve heard from Kelly that being with her soulmate, it’s… umm, more intense? In comparison. That’s what she says anyway,” you finish in a rush, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I’ve had similar experiences. I wonder how it would be between the two of us,” he says thoughtfully.

Your jaw drops, a flush coming to your cheeks. You press your hands against them, not used to the feeling of blood pumping there. As always, denial and anger are the safest places to land.

“Well, that’s not going to happen any time soon,” you say firmly and he laughs.

“I was just proposing an experiment. Out of scientific curiosity, of course,” he says with a smirk.

“Yeah, right,” you say sarcastically, picking up your burger to take another bite.

[Y/N 7:02pm] YOU ARE SUCH A BITCH OMFG [Y/N 7:02pm] why would you do that to me??? [Kelly 7:03pm] god knows you were never going to do anything about it [Kelly 7:03pm] how did it go??? it’s been like [Kelly 7:03pm] over THREE HOURS [Kelly 7:03pm] what did you guys do?? [Y/N 7:04pm] we just grabbed drinks together [Y/N 7:04pm] and we talked [Kelly 7:04pm] and??? 👀 [Y/N 7:05pm] okay fine he hit on me [Y/N 7:05pm] but he also offered me an internship with his research team [Y/N 7:05pm] so like [Y/N 7:05pm] i’d say i broke even [Kelly 7:06pm] omfg [Kelly 7:06pm] YOU’RE WELCOMEEEEE [Y/N 7:07pm] okay but i still hate you [Kelly 7:07pm] whatever [Kelly 7:07pm] just remember that i have dibs on being maid of honor at your wedding 😘 [Y/N 7:08pm] i hate you so much

You manage to resist for two weeks. 

Fourteen days is as long as you can manage before your burning curiosity finally breaks you. Fourteen days of getting lost in the way his mouth carefully forms each word as he speaks. Fourteen days of biting your lip, turning away when he meets your eye in class, or during a meeting in the lab. 

Two weeks, that felt like they lasted a millennia.

It started your first day at the lab, his official ‘welcome’ handshake when you met the team lingering just a second too long – his gaze holding yours a beat longer than necessary. 

Next, it escalated to small touches. A brush of your waist as he reached for the next stack of interviews. His arm grazing yours as he leaned over you to grab a new set of slides for the next sample. His knee touching yours under the table repeatedly whenever you grab lunch or dinner together.

It’s the way he looks when you catch him staring at you, a hunger in his eyes that makes your skin feel too tight. You’re sure you must look the same, as you sneak in glances at him while his back is turned.

His infuriating smile tells you that he knows exactly what he’s doing; testing you, testing himself. Pushing you both until you’re strung so tight you feel like he could breathe on you and you’d fall apart.

Tonight is another late night, everyone else went home hours ago. You’re bouncing from foot to foot, trying to keep your focus as you enter more data into the spreadsheets. He moves to the microscope next to you, his hand trailing across your lower back as he moves, leaving a trail of fire even through the layer of your shirt.

You sigh pointedly, but his hand remains. It was never like this, with the men before him. You never lost your focus, never wanted any of them so badly you could taste it. Your need for him threatens to drag you under, to bury you with the weight of its intensity.

“Mark,” you say firmly, closing your eyes briefly, steeling yourself against the heat building in you at his touch. He looks up from his microscope, raising his eyebrows in attention, his hand frozen in place low on your back.

“Hmm?” he asks, feigning innocence. “Did you need something?”

“You know damn well what I need,” you grit out between your teeth, dropping your eyes to stare meaningfully at his hand on you.

“Yes. I do. Because I need it too,” he says in a low voice, deliberately misunderstanding you. He stands up fully, moving his body in front of yours.

He rests his hands on the counter on either side of you, his face inches from yours. This close you can’t hide your feelings for him; you know your desperate want is broadcast across your face. His smug smile fades, melts away into something softer, sweeter.

“But if you don’t want me, I’ll drop it. I just – I’ve never felt like this before. Physically. Emotionally. It’s like I can only breathe when I’m touching you, and every second I spend away from you is a shallow breath,” he says, barely above a whisper.

“It’s fascinating really, reading about this, and now experiencing it,” he says with a soft laugh. “I always thought they were exaggerating the pull. But now I think they might have been underselling it.”

You let out a shaky breath, furrowing your brow as you scan his face. Has it really only been a few weeks since you saw him for the first time? It feels like you’ve been wanting him, craving him, for decades. Your heart rate kicks up as you realize you can feel his body heat in the narrow space between you.

He lifts a hand, bringing it to cup your jaw. His thumb traces a lazy trail across your cheek, his eyes following the motion in awe. You know what he’s feeling. There’s something magnetic between you, it’s overwhelming - the way that your connection feels destined, fated.

“Is it always like this?” you wonder aloud softly. “Between soulmates. In your interviews, have you ever found a pair that doesn’t feel this…. chemistry?” Your lips twist into a wry grin. His eyes flare in awareness as he processes what you’re saying, arousal pooling between your legs at the intensity that comes to his gaze.

“I mean, maybe we should put it to the test. For science,” you continue, tentatively bringing your hands up to rest on his hips. Without intending to, your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt, your body automatically moving to pull him closer before your mind catches up.

His other hand leaves the counter, coming to rest along the curve of your waist, fitting perfectly as if it belongs there. He leans forward carefully, pressing his body flush against yours. You both inhale sharply at the contact. It makes you wonder how you ever lived with the absence of him against you, now that you know what it feels like to have him here in front of you, wanting you.

His closeness seems to heighten not just your ability to feel heat, but your other senses as well. This close, you breathe in the faint hint of his musky cologne. This close, colors seem richer; the red of his lips, the deep brown of his eyes. This close, you can almost taste him, and you lick your lips at the thought.

He groans, a low gravelly sound in this throat, as he follows the motion of your tongue. He moves his hand, tilting your head up toward him. Your lips part unconsciously in anticipation. 

“For science, huh?” he says, grinning.

You nod, smirking at him, straightening your back and moving your mouth close to his. “We are scientists, after all. I’d say it’s our duty.”

“Absolutely,” he breathes against your lips. He brings his mouth against yours, enveloping you in his arms. Your lips land slightly off center, mirroring how you feel, thrown out of yourself at the intensity of feeling. As he presses against you, sliding his lips along yours gently, you feel as if your world has been knocked sideways.

He pulls back and a moan leaves you at the absence, feeling bereft without his lips on yours. You lift your hands to his neck, pulling him fiercely against you, slanting your lips against his. He groans into your mouth, pressing you into the counter with his hips.

The hand on your back flexes, brushing up the fabric of your shirt and sliding along your bare skin. He swallows the whine that leaves your throat and you can feel him hardening against your thigh. The sudden rush of desire that rises in your core leaves you breathless.

As he works his mouth against yours his hand slides around to the front, brushing along your waist. You cling to him desperately, feeling unmoored as you drown in want, holding onto him as the only solid thing you can find. When his fingers graze the underside of your breast you open your mouth in surprise.

He smirks against you, taking the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, pressing it along yours as his thumb finds your sensitive nipple over the fabric of your bra. You grip his shirt in your hands, fisting the material, trying to keep yourself together. He pulls back again, breathing heavily.

“Do you want to go all the way with this?” he asks, his hips rocking into yours, his erection brushing against your sensitive core.

You bite your lip, trying to find a rational reason to say no and finding none. You release your lip with a gasp, grinding your hips against him in response. “Yes, god yes,” you breathe.

He smirks against you, pulling your lower lip into his mouth as his hands drop to work on his belt. Now that you’ve given in fully to your desire for him, you can’t contain it. You undress each other in a flurry of clothes and lips and hands, ending up naked, pressed against each other, leaning on the counter.

He dips his hand between your legs and you gasp as he trails a finger through your folds. He grins, finding you wet and ready. A possessive gleam comes to his eyes as he slides a finger into you, watching as you close your eyes with a sigh. He crooks his finger, rubbing against that sensitive spot on your inner walls and you tilt your head up to give him a challenging stare.

He laughs and bends down to recapture your lips. After a minute he’s so hard it hurts. Unable to wait any longer, he grips your thigh, pulling your leg over his hip and positioning himself at the entrance.

Suddenly he shakes his head with a laugh. “Jesus, what was I thinking. Hang on, I have a condom somewhere,” he says and sets your leg down.

You turn, leaning against the counter on your elbows, grinning as you watch him run around the lab in the nude. “It’s nice to know you’re as affected as I am,” you say with a laugh. “I can’t think straight when you’re around.”

He laughs, glancing over at you with a grin as he digs in a drawer. “You know, I was a very organized person before you came into my life.”

“I know what you mean,” you laugh, a warmth rushing through your body that has nothing to do with lust, and all to do with another four letter l word.

He disappears into his office and emerges triumphant, holding up a condom. He rips open the package and sheathes himself. His hot gaze runs up and down your body, considering.

“You know, I think I’m going to need both my hands with you,” he says with a wicked grin. Looking around he sees a folding chair in the corner, its back against the wall. He sits down and motions you over, crooking his finger at you with a wink. “Come here.”

You walk over, spreading your legs on either side of him. His hands run up your thighs, coming to grip the flesh of your ass. You reach a hand down to grab him, positioning him against you. 

As you ease down you can’t help the moan that escapes you. Needy whines leave you as his cock stretches you out. A warmth builds in you as you slide down onto him that blows away anything you’ve felt before.

He groans, his hands gripping your thighs as you adjust to the feeling of him inside you. After a beat, he starts moving. Rocking his hips, he moves within you, pushing and pulling your hips, his fingers digging into your skin. 

You press your heels into the floor, tilting back to rest your hands against his legs for purchase. You swirl your hips, circling around him as he slides you back and forth on his cock. The friction is so delicious you smother a scream.

He drops his head to the wall with a thud, watching you through hooded eyes. “Has it ever felt like this for you?” he asks, his voice straining.

You laugh. “Ever the scientist. No, god. It’s never been this good before.”

A sheen of sweat comes to his brow and you grin, knowing that your skin is just as flushed. You shake your head, your mouth falling open as he snaps his hips up, driving himself into you suddenly. You hold yourself there, above him, as he thrusts into you deeply.

“Fuck, it’s too much,” you say between desperate breaths. “I feel like I’m being burned alive,” you pant, throwing your head back.

He bends back, opening up space so he can reach between you. In a rush he brings a hand to your clit, his thumb stroking you in frantic circles. His lips find the delicate joining of your neck and shoulder and he licks along it. His breath ghosts along your skin, his muffled groans turning you on more than you thought was possible.

Gently he bites down, barely pressing his teeth against your skin. But along with his bucking hips and the motion of his hand, it’s enough to send you over the edge. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you come, clinging to him as the pleasure bursts forth - more intense than you’ve ever felt, with the accompanying explosion of warmth in your core.

After a beat he sits up, wrapping an arm low across back and one across your shoulders. He rocks into you at a rapid pace, chasing his own completion. The movement pulls at your sensitive core, the aftershocks of your own orgasm making you gasp against him. He lets out a strangled moan, panting against your skin as he comes. Even after he stills he keeps his tight hold on you, not wanting to let you go just yet.

You rest your forehead against his shoulder, turning so you face his neck, inhaling his scent. You sit there in each others arms, a messy tangle of limbs and hair and lips, until your breathing finally slows. His hand runs a lazy path up and down your back as he holds you to him, the other cupping your neck as you rest against him. A growing cramp in your hip eventually forces you to sit up and readjust.

“Want to head to my place and do this again?” he asks, his eyes alight with happiness, holding your head in both of his hands.

“God, yes,” you say with a giddy laugh, leaning forward to kiss him again.

You wake in his bed, in his arms, and you think back to last night. He’d made love to you again,; softer, slower the second time. His weight on top of you, steady and grounding, as he thrust into you. His mouth against your neck, trailing hot open mouthed kisses against the skin there. Endearments and praise had spilled from his lips as you found your completion together in the darkness.

You blink, still in disbelief that it had really happened - it felt like a dream. But his body, molded to yours under the sheets, reassures you that it was real.

In movies this is the end, this is where you fall headfirst in love. An easy slide, and that’s it – happily ever after. But instead you feel off-kilter, as if you can’t firmly grasp the threads of your life. The warmth of his body, of the bed, is lulling you into a life you’re not sure you can handle.

In the morning light, things suddenly seem… messy. The carefully laid out life you’ve built for yourself feels like it’s crumbling. Fear and panic rise in you and all at once want to leave. You want to run, now. 

You slide out of his arms gently, making sure not to wake him. In the dim light you dress and grab your things, heading out into the cold streets. You shiver and burrow closer into your coat, the cold air mocking you and your cowardice.

You manage not to see him for days, holing up in your apartment. He emails you, multiple times, wanting to know where you went, what’s wrong. But you leave them unanswered, unable to find the words to articulate the complex swirl of emotions and thoughts in your mind. Unsure how to reconcile the seemingly opposite desires in your heart – for him, and for peace, order; for a life where you belong only to yourself.

Now that it’s late fall the temperature has dropped. You can see your breath as you venture out to quickly grab groceries. The cool air, the lack of warmth, taunts you. But you resist, upset again that nature has forced this on you. This bond, this intensity, that you never asked for. 

You miss him everywhere. Your bed feels empty, the water in the shower has returned to it’s bland sensation. The accompanying rush of heat you’d become used to whenever you think of his hands, his lips, has vanished. 

His absence is almost more painful than his presence, but you stubbornly cling to the hope that you might be able to function without him.

You call out sick from your internship on Friday, thankfully getting another person on the phone and not Mark. You skip his class the following Tuesday. You ask Kelly to get you the homework and share her notes with you. She does, because she loves you. But she also knows that something is wrong the moment you ask her.

She knocks on your door later that night. “I know you’re in there, Y/N. You’d better open up or I’m going to break this door down,” she says with as much sternness as she can muster.

You crack open the door, giving her a sheepish smile as she strides into the apartment. “What’s going on with you?” she demands, folding her arms.

You shut the door with a sigh, turning to rest your back against it. “We slept together,” you blurt out.

Her jaw drops. “Oh my god, you finally gave in,” she says excitedly. “How was it? Tell me everything! I can’t fucking believe you didn’t call me like, the second after you came,” she says and you laugh out loud.

“It was incredible. I’ve never felt like that, ever. It was like I was being consumed by a wildfire. Like my very blood was going to burn,” you say, desperately willing your body to recall the sensations. You sigh in frustration when you realize you can’t.

She raises her eyebrows, holding out her hands. “So? What’s the problem? I feel like I’m missing something.”

“Kels, I can’t do this – it’s – it’s too much. Everything about this is just too much for me,” you say, bringing your thumb to your lips, chewing on the skin nervously. “Do you think it’s because of the soulmate bond… or is it because I lo-” you snap your mouth closed as if you could stifle your feelings.

“Wait – what did you just say,” she presses, a predatory look coming to her eye. She points her finger at you and you know you’re screwed. “You were about to say you love him, weren’t you?”

You cover your face with your hands. “Maybe?” you admit weakly. With a groan you drop your hands. “But how do I handle this, Kels? The way he was looking at me that night, it was so open and trusting. What do I do with that kind of power over someone? And I’ve been a wreck since I met him too. How do I cope with the fact that he has so much influence over me, it’s infuriating,” you say dejectedly.

She grins, coming over to run her hands up and down your arms soothingly. “Babe, that’s love. It’s absolutely fucking terrifying. But it’s so worth it, too. You have to give him a chance, even if you’re afraid of trusting him – trust me. I wouldn’t lie to you. And if you give it a shot, I think it’ll be better than you can imagine. But if it all goes to hell, I’ll be here for you then too,” she finishes softly, holding your gaze as you feel your eyes go misty.

You let out a shaky breath. “I can try. But what if I hurt him? What if –” you start but she claps her hand over your mouth.

She tilts her head, giving you a gentle but stern look. “You can’t know what’s going to happen in the future. But you have to at least try, okay?”

After a beat you nod and she cautiously lowers her hand. “I think you have somewhere to be, don’t you?”

“You’re right,” you say, a nervous excitement building in your stomach as you think about what you’re going to have to do.

“That’s my girl,” she says. “Now where’s that black skirt I’ve always wanted to see you in?” she says excitedly as she rushes over to your closet. You laugh and wrap your arms around yourself, smiling to yourself.

The lab is quiet, as it always is this late at night. He’s at his computer when you walk in and he turns to look at you, his eyes widening as he drinks you in. He stands up in a rush, coming over to you, stopping a few paces away, hesitating.

“It’s only been a few days, but it feels like an eternity since I saw you last,” he says with a laugh. “How do people handle this?” he muses, waving a hand between the two of you.

You grin and shrug. “I don’t know. I handled it by freaking out and running away, so I’m probably not the best person to ask,” you say, carefully watching his reaction.

He gives you a lopsided smile, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Ah. Is that what was going on? I was worried I’d pushed you too far. If you didn’t come to class on Thursday I was going to send out a search party,” he says with a smirk. “Or, more accurately, I was going to ask your friend where you were.”

You rock forward on your heels nervously. “So you still... want me, even after I left?” you ask softly.

He takes a step toward you, then another, until he’s inches away. His hands come to your waist, as if he can’t bear to wait another second to touch you. 

“Y/N, it’s going to take more than that to drive me away,” he says earnestly. “I was freaked out too. It’s a lot to handle, everything we feel. But I’m willing to try and figure it out with you, if you still want me, too.”

You let out a laugh, finally looking up to meet his gaze. “‘If I want you too’? Do you really not know how much I want you? How much I think about you? You turned my world upside down and I have to focus all the time just to think about anything but you,” you say, smiling up at him.

He bites his lip as his mouth twists into a lopsided grin. “Well, you did leave me in bed all alone…” he says teasingly.

Your jaw drops in indignation and you scoff. “I guess I’ll just have to find some way to make it up to you, then,” you say seductively.

He bends down, his lips hovering over yours. “Mmm, I look forward to it,” he says with a wink.

You lean up on your toes, sealing your lips over his, pulling yourself against him. His hands wrap securely around your waist, holding you tight. He smiles against your lips, and you feverishly hope that he never lets you go.

[nathanorenstein-blog]

Kanye West - ye Review

Kanye West - ye Review

By Nathan Orenstein

Release Date - June 1, 2018

Genres - Experimental Hip Hop, Rap, Trap

Kanye West has never been the type of artist to stick to one sound, style, or theme in his music. Of his now eight studio albums, the only two that sound remotely similar are The College Dropout and Late Registration, but even they have enough differences to make them completely unique projects. He’s rapped about everything under the sun, and he’s never been afraid to get personal about his own flaws, mistakes, and emotions. Kanye has always been known for his larger-than-life ego, his several controversies in the public eye, and his consistent need to do things his way. But above all else, he’s known for his sheer talent in creating hip hop masterpieces. He’s won 21 Grammys, with a total of 68 nominations, and his legacy as a rapper and a producer has already been cemented in music history, before his career is even done. Kanye’s always made it clear that he’s on top, and his attitude toward fame has always been reflected in his music. However, on ye, Kanye is at his most human, and his god complex is at its most restricted here. In 2016, Kanye had to cancel his Life of Pablo tour midway after his hospitalization from fatigue. In 2017, he was official diagnosed with bipolar disorder. In 2018, Kanye has become one of the most hated celebrities on the Internet, due to his explosive comments about slavery and his allegiance to Donald Trump. ye is deeply personal, and Kanye reflects on the past few years with a heavy heart. The braggadocious raps from his previous albums are gone, and he’s decided to focus on emotional topics such as depression, addiction, love, and family. The production is mellow, allowing Kanye’s lyrics about these themes to really stand out. At only 7 songs long, ye does leave a lot to be desired. But what Kanye does give us is powerful, and ye earns its spot among his elite discography.

ye opens with “I Thought About Killing You”, which starts with a 2 and a half minute spoken word piece. The nature of Kanye’s bipolarism is addressed right off the bat, with Kanye speaking directly to his other personality about his desire to get rid of it. The beat is simple, and it’s composed only of a vocoded sample of Francis Farewell Starlite’s voice and a reverberated bass line. Kanye then starts rapping over the same beat, speaking openly about his depression. However, about a third of the way into the verse, the beat completely switches up, now making use of a sample of “Fr3sh” by Kareem Lofty. Kanye seems to switch into another personality at this point, and his rapping becomes harder and fiercer. Changing the beat to match his rapping is a great choice, and his ability to change it up right in the middle of the verse so casually is astounding. Next comes “Yikes”, which is all about Kanye’s struggle with opioid addiction. This is likely the most catchy and addicting song on the entire album, but its lyrics are probably the darkest on the album. Kanye ends the song by addressing  his bipolar disorder again, but he seems to have come to terms with it, calling it his superpower. The song ends with the same scream heard on Yeezus’ “I Am A God”, showing that Kanye has accepted his bipolarism as something that makes him stronger and it’s something he’s proud of.

“All Mine” is easily the weak link of the album. It has a slick hook from Jeremih and nice industrial production on the second verse, but overall the song doesn’t fit in with the rest of the songs on the album at all. Kanye’s verses can be summed up by the following two sets of lyrics: “I love your titties ‘cause they prove / I can focus on two things at once” and “Let me hit it raw like fuck the outcome / Ayy, none of us’d be here without cum”. “All Mine” might have made a good cut on The Life of Pablo with its trap-leaning production and it’s talk of hooking up with models and pornstars, but it doesn’t belong on ye at all.

On “Wouldn’t Leave”, Kanye expresses his love for his wife Kim Kardashian, and his appreciation for all that she’s done to help him. PARTYNEXTDOOR provides a beautiful hook, and Jeremih provides an equally beautiful bridge. Kanye’s verses are emotional but still packed with excellent rhymes, and his flow is at its smoothest. The beat is made up of very minimal electronic percussion, with shimmering production flourishes that makes the song’s emotion stand out more. The two minute track, “No Mistakes”, that follows is reminiscent of Kanye’s older work, with soulful production and chopped samples throughout. Kanye again addresses his struggles with his health and his finances, but he also finds a way to work in some shots at Drake, following Drake’s beef with Pusha T.

The final two tracks on the album, “Ghost Town” and “Violent Crimes” are two of Kanye’s most emotional songs. “Ghost Town” is truly a tour de force on all fronts and will likely go down as the best song on the album. PARTYNEXTDOOR opens the song up with a great intro, which is followed by an amazingly sung chorus from frequent Kanye collaborator Kid Cudi. Kanye’s verse is addressed at himself, and he sings about his struggles with addiction and fame. Kanye’s made it clear in the past that he’s insecure about his singing voice, and his decision to sing instead of rap here makes the song even more powerful and emotional. The production of the song is amazing, mixing live instrumentation with electronic beats to create a old-school, yet modern, sound. The star of the show here though is 070 Shake’s outro. Her performance is darkly beautiful, while still filled with hope. She sings “I put my hand on a stove, to see if I still bleed”, a line that sums up the emptiness that comes with depression. 070 Shake’s singing is backed by a strong electric guitar solo that dips in and out of the verse, allowing for her vocals to really shine. The album’s closing moment is “Violent Crimes”, which stands among “Runaway” and “Ultralight Beam” as one of the most gut wrenchingly powerful songs Kanye has ever put on an album. 070 Shake returns to open the song up with a beautiful, almost lullaby-like performance. She also sings the chorus, and she’s accompanied by Ty Dolla Sign when it comes in again after Kanye’s verse. Kanye’s sole verse on this track is easily the best verse on the entire album. He describes fatherhood, specifically fathering his two daughters, and his concerns about their futures. He worries that they’ll be sexualized and abused when they grow up, and his experience as a male bachelor gives weight to his statements. Kanye raps “I pray that your body’s draped more like mine / And not like your mommy’s”, showing his concern that they will be viewed only as objects, which can lead to them being taken advantage of. The verse cuts deep, and Kanye’s emotions are vivid as he raps. The production is ethereal, adding to the almost lullaby tone that 070 Shake created in the intro. “Violent Crimes” serves as a perfectly emotional end to an emotional album, and its sentiments are almost palpable.

Kanye West’s ye is a triumph in showing the very human side of his godlike persona. It isn’t a totally coherent package, with Kanye bouncing between different themes all over the place, but the emotion is powerful throughout. Kanye might not have his best verses on this project, and he might not have his best production either, but his openness and willingness to discuss difficult topics is at its best here. ye certainly won’t be as popular as his other albums, but its still very worthy of your time and emotions.

My final score: 8.9/10

Favorite Songs: “I Thought About Killing You”, “Yikes”, “Ghost Town”, “Violent Crimes”

Least Favorite Song:  “All Mine”

[uniformbravo]

so

today was my special oc day, right, may 16th and everything, and i have that whole yearly silan portrait deal going on

except this could not be a more academically inconvenient time for may 16th to happen lmao i have like a thousand school things going on and any reasonable person would be like “well guess i’ll just have to postpone the festivities in the interest of prioritizing my schoolwork” but Fuck it am i Right

art project that im around 70% done with due tomorrow

museum paper i’ve barely started planning for due thursday

history essay i half-read the prompt for also due thursday

apparently registration for next semester started this week, they don’t usually do it this early & it’s fucking me up

my art teacher approached me about some student art show they’re having on campus asking if i wanted to submit anything & i said i’ll think about it; that deadline is sometime during this week, no idea which day, can’t be bothered to check (could’ve been today tbh)

literally Everything is happening this week and i absolutely should be devoting every waking moment to trying to keep up with it all but instead i went “nope i’m taking the day off it’s Silan Day i need to draw my son” (tho to be fair i did spend the 2 hours between classes today working on the art project so that’s something at least)

also yea um just the fact that i even had classes today?? i’m kind of baffled that this is the first time this has happened tbh bc i started this yearly portrait-drawing tradition in 2014 and i’ve been in school all that time so why don’t i remember being this busy all those other times, i literally lost half of my day today attending class and didn’t start on the actual drawing until like 4 pm (it’s supposed to be like an all-day thing)

aaaanyway i did not manage to finish the portrait today (i wasn’t expecting to) but i got a good start on it and i like where it’s going, enough to be interested in picking it up again later so that’s good?? i’m gonna be semi-responsible and spend the next 2-3 days getting all my schoolwork done lol

because ok i’m not 100% irresponsible alright!! i know i made it seem that way but i didn’t just carelessly throw all my homework out the window so i could draw my ocs all day, i knew beforehand that this week was going to be a shit show! my Actual Plan was to get all or at least the majority of these assignments done over this past weekend, but it turned out to be a Big depression weekend and i couldn’t even bring myself to Think about homework, not even the art hw, so the only thing i managed to finish was this little reading response for art history, which i only did yesterday after the weekend was technically over

so yea h idk my plans kind of fell through bc of that disaster, but i still consider today’s actions justified ok:

since im getting p close to finishing the art project i can probably just finish it in class tomorrow & it’ll be fine, like it’s due at the beginning of class but i’m sure if i give it in before i leave it’ll count

i will devote literally all of tomorrow to completing the museum paper, i wrote another one exactly like it last semester for the same teacher so i know exactly what to do and it should be fairly easy I Got This

history teacher is extremely lenient with late work, last essay i busted my ass to get it done in time and then the next day he was like “ya if u don’t have it today just get it to me whenever u can it’s fine” so i will pray 2 the Lord that he says those same exact words thursday morning and i will have all weekend to write the fuckening thing (*also prays that The Depression won’t foil my plans this time*)

and then registration & the art show are fuckin Whatever, super far down on my priority list i Guess (aka no capacity 2 deal with more things rn lol!)

after all those things are handled i will finally let myself get back to the silan portrait, my son, my charming boy, im so proud of him, tearing apart my life in this crucial time to give him life what a treasure

anyway it’s 2am goodnight

[hutcho33-blog]

The Ten Greatest Kanye West Songs Of All Time

Today is Kanye West’s 40th birthday and rather than get Kanye a cake or a pair of extremely expensive sneakers, we here at Boss Hunting decided to celebrate Kanye in the only way we know how, by assessing the greatness of his music.

Don’t expect any mention of that weird Nike diss track or whatever “I am a God” was. No we’re gonna be focusing on the greatness of Kanye. Of course this is only one list and we can’t possibly do every great track justice, but here’s what we ended up with.

Honourable Mentions: Famous, Waves, Lost in the World, Stronger, FourFive Seconds, N***as in Paris, Heartless, I Love Kanye.

Lost in the World, FourFive Seconds and N***as in Paris all get disqualified from the list on the basis that they can’t be entirely classified as ‘Kanye’ songs. Although his collab with Jay-Z is still very much in his style, all of the songs in the top ten come from places that are very recognisably Kanye. Famous gets a mention not only for being a good track, but also for the impact it made on the pop-culture world.

Waves is also an underrated banger, although some of us would’ve liked the final version to sound like how it was initially pitched by Chance the Rapper. Heartless and Stronger also get a mention due to it’s noritory amongst more casual fans of Kanye. I Love Kanye is the best skit on any of his albums and is on here for one reason. It’s funny. It’s quirky. It’s so Kanye.

This section alone could warrant it’s own tribute, with Kanye producing great songs far beyond a ten count. However, here is a carefully considered and likely highly controversial list of the top 10 Kanye West tracks of all time.

10 – Gold Digger → Late Registration (2005)

Possibly Kanye’s most widely popular song, ‘Gold Digger’ became a permanent fixture in clubs around the world due to its eccentric vibe and fun flavour. One should be careful however to fully discount the quality of the track. Even the first thirty seconds are packed with sounds that defined an era in music.

Jamie Foxx’s voice in this track is iconic, leading to a hard breakdown and the introduction of one of the most famous hooks in all of hip-hop.  “I ain’t sayin she a gold digger/ but she ain’t mess’n with no broke n****s” is one of the most recognisable hooks in the modern era of hip hop.

The beat stays consistently upbeat, forcing even the most fridget of listeners to at least tap a foot or bob a head. The song reaches out of the bounds of just the rap game and has the widespread pop appeal that few rap songs were able to have before that time.

While Kanye brings the lyrical heat, there are songs that are significantly more intriguing in manner senses. While this song has gained international popularity and acclaim due to it’s accessible greatness, it fails in some respects to do justice to the type of work Kanye is capable of. For this reason, a ranking in the top ten is more than enough to recognise Kanye’s most famous track.

9 – Love Lockdown → 808s and Heartbreaks (2008)

Ah so we come to the heartbreaking love ballad. A story about the conflict between fame and love. The lyrics of this song are less of a concern here, as nothing blows you away in this regard. No immaculate or majestic stage is set by anything that the vocals say. What makes this song so great is that it relies entirely on the way that the instrumentals work so beautifully together to provoke such deep feelings on the listener’s part.

Rather it’s the slow burn and build that transpires throughout the song. The deep bass drums that belt out from the beginning are so deep it feels like someone is drumming your soul. You can just focus on those drums tapping in your chest. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. It’s the consistent beat that dominates the song and helps define it. Slowly Kanye adds layers of instruments on top, slowly, until one is totally submerged in the very simple message of Kanye’s heartbreak.

Then the outro. No spoken word just a deep forest sounds that build the song to it’s final climax before being striped away to that all too familiar beat from the intro.

8 – Jesus Walks → College Dropout (2004)

Young Kanye lays down some bars in this one. The whole song relies almost entirely on two pillars.

The first, the context to religion and christianity. This shows in the overall tone of the track, with the back up vocals all having a distinct church group style. This juxtaposed with the preaching manner in which Kanye is actually rapping creates a sense that you’re engulfed in a sermon on the Mount of Yeezus.

The second is Kanye coming at everybody trying to make a name for himself.

“You know what the Midwest is? Young and restless

Where restless (niggas) might snatch your necklace

And next these (niggas) might jack your Lexus

Somebody tell these (niggas) who Kanye West is.”

It’s worth noting this is off Kanye’s first album. He’s basically introducing himself to the audience that tells them one very clear message. My name is Kanye, I’m from the city of Chicago and I’m a badass.

7 – Black Skinhead→ Yeezus (2013)

Gritty Kanye is a good Kanye.

This is Kanye’s best gritty song. When the career retrospective is written on Kanye West it’ll say many a thing. It’ll recount a polarising relationship with she who shall not be named, a beef with Taylor Swift and most prominently of all it will mention that Kanye pioneered a style that was adopted by rappers like Chance.

However this is the black box for Kanye’s influence on a harder and more experimental form of rap music.

As he mentions in the song about going 500mph and being out of control. It’s a direct fuck you to everyone on the outside. The public, the media, the scrutiny, all of it.

It’s the Kardashian era Kanye mission statement. I’m going to do whatever I want to do, make whatever music I want and do it whenever I want to do it.

6 – Hey Mama → Late Registration (2005)

This is some great early Kanye. Just simple story telling over a cool beat with some fun lyricism. It’s the kind of song you play when you’re just hanging out with your friends on a lazy Sunday afternoon enjoying the sunshine.

There’s not a lot to hate about this song. It’s an upbeat tribute from a wildly successful son to the mother that helped him on his road to stardom. Even hook is loveable.

“(Hey Mama), I wanna scream so loud for you, cause I’m so proud of you

Let me tell you what I’m about to do, (Hey Mama)

I know I act a fool but, I promise you I’m goin back to school

I appreciate what you allowed for me

I just want you to be proud of me (Hey Mama)”

Deep down inside we all wish we could just straight up shout out our awesome mothers in song and actually pull it off. So for being a fun, well constructed and never boring display by a loud and proud mama’s boy, Hey Mama pulls a sweet sixth spot.

5 – Blood On Leaves → Yeezus (2013)

Blood on Leaves is dark, hard and gritty.

The sample of Nina Simone’s ‘Strange Fruit’ over piano keys to intro the song immediately catches attention before Kanye is even able to spit a line. The repetition of the phrase “blood on leaves” is a staple of the track, and if one wants to truly appreciate the depth of this song, they should check out the original song itself.

This is one of Kanye’s more undeniably provocative tracks. From referencing lynchings in the south during the late 1800s to calling out Instagram frauds, Kanye covers a very broad range of sensitive social issues whilst remaining aggressive throughout. The use of the song ‘Strange Fruit’ as a sample holds a lot of weight in this sense politically. It’s not trying to be a party banger, nor is it a song built for the radio. It’s a track that’s meant to make you think about the world. Usually when artists (and Kanye is guilty of this too) try and do this kind of commentary, they can miss the point entirely, seeming to lecture more than provoke.

This is not the case with Blood on Leaves.

4 – Dark Fantasy → My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy (2010)

Doing this list, however you cut it, teaches you something. Kanye has made some really fucking great music in his career.

With that explicitly stated, we have Dark Fantasy. The fact is that this ranking might not do this song justice. It has all the great aspects of an all-time great Kanye track.

The intro feels like a kids story turned dark right at the end. The hook is amazingly done, providing insight into the way Ye sees himself. The top, better yet, the very top. He’s actually asking if it actually gets any higher than where he is. All performed with beautiful vocals that seem more heavenly than arrogant.

Then Kanye spits bars on bars on bars on top of a very old school rap beat. Just Kanye performing some verbal acrobatics in a way that resonates with hip-hop fans of any era. It’s this kind of performing that puts him all-time lists with other great pure rappers like Nas.

The fact is that this track would be number one a lot of lists if it were made by another artist. But alas, Kanye’s discography is a lot like the 2017 Golden State Warriors. Three can only be three in a Big Three. Sorry Klay Thompson, and sorry Dark Fantasy.

3 – Touch the Sky → Late Registration (2005)

Along with the aforementioned Gold Digger and Jesus Walks, this song is among Kanye’s most famous. Like the others, it grabs your attention from the start, giving you only four small beats to prepare for a vibrant experience blossoming with energy and optimism.

The reason this song gets a higher place on this list is the incredible interaction between the orchestra, Kanye’s choice of tone and even a strong Lupe Fiasco feature. Kanye also puts forth one of his stronger performances from a verbal gymnastics perspectives. Some Kanye songs you can kind of keep up with lyrically. Other than the chorus, anything Kanye vocalises on this track is pretty tough to follow for longer than a few seconds.

For being a nice blend between mainstream hit, pure rap skill and that dash of Kanye flavour, Touch The Sky opens up the top three.

2 – Runaway → My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy (2010)

Runaway will certainly be one of Kanye’s greatest career accomplishments. The opening piano keys are hauntingly beautiful, consuming the listener with confusing but real emotions from the very beginning. It’s the anticipation that get’s you, like in a horror film when you’re waiting for the jump scare. Then the different note rings in you ear and you feel it. That’s just the first twenty seconds of a nine minute emotional odyssey.

The song sends chills down your spine from the start and is best consumed in a dark room with your eyes closed. It’s what Kanye West does better than many artists in history. Then the song actually starts and it has an effect, a personal one at that.

Kanye is unravelling himself in song. He acknowledges his arrogance, the fact that he is not perfect whilst also admitting himself to be a perfectionist. It’s a raw self reflection where it seems that Ye struggles both with a pursuit of perfection in his life but also knows ultimately that nothing can remain totally without flaw forever.

It’s Kanye’s perception on the fleeting nature of beauty and love. It feels so intimate all the way through, the kind of connection the song makes is the kind you only experience sparingly in life.

Then there’s the outro. An over three minute voyage. Just auto tuned and indecipherable vocals over the haunting but classically beautiful instrumentals. Much in the way one can become entranced with the mystery of a Frank Ocean track, the outro provides and incredible conclusion to a perfect song.

1 – Ultralight Beam → The Life of Pablo (2016)

There are some great tracks that have been discussed in this piece and even more that didn’t even get a honorable mention. Some club bangers. Some heartfelt ballads. Some joyous proclamations of the joy of life. Some angry protests. With the close study of every track and skit on every album Ye has ever released, there is an undeniable truth.

Ultralight Beam is the greatest track Kanye West has ever made.

I understand the opposing argument. The Life of Pablo as an album has many flaws. The Kanye you get in TLOP overall is not the best Kanye we have ever been fortunate to experience. No song on that album had the mainstream acclaim of other songs. Nor did it universally get approved by every diehard hip-hop fan. TLOP is an average Kanye West album, mainly because it has too many songs that feel like filler. Whilst I don’t agree with all these assertions, I do understand them.

But none of those arguments have anything to do with Ultralight Beam.

It feels heavenly, divine, omnipotent and enlightening. I still remember driving around with my sister when I first heard it. My heart melted with the transition from the girl talking about God to those incredible chords and vocals. The instrumentals are insane, undeniably some of Kanye’s best producing work.

Then the choir hits. The choir is beautiful. The choir is exactly what it says it is. A god dream.

A deep beat, soul melting chords and an inspiring choir all collide to touch a very sensitive part of your very being you never knew. Kelly Price’s voice is the definition of musical beauty. All of this all time great Kanye work builds to what clinches the title for best Kanye track. The best verse of 2016 performed by Chance the Rapper. There’s too much about this verse that is great to limit it to one part. The song built perfectly to that voice, with those words over that beat.

If you’re still not totally convinced, listen to the last twenty seconds of that song a few times. Listen to it from beginning to end by yourself and really listen. That build over a song to the incredibly beautiful ending is what Kanye has thrived on his whole career. This is his greatest example of it.

It’s okay to disagree. The denial is expected. I sought out another answer. A great spiritual journey was undertaken. Many a possibility pondered. But in the end, there can only be one.