#I'M SOBBING THEY'RE MARRIED

[manipulatedstars]

Yeah

Yeah this is pretty fucking amazing

hiiiii <333 I have lovedddd lovvvveeeddd alll of your works I actually spent my day reading each and everyone of them I love it so muchhh!! 😭❤️

I have a request teehee, could you write one where Sannie is like a professor in your college and there’s little teasing here and there and where he ends up having her alas!! DOM - SAN ‼️💋

his favourite

<prof!san x fem!reader>

Prof Choi likes playing favourites.

You’re his favourite.

Genres/Warnings: smut, dom professor Choi San, pwp, face fucking, unprotected sex, oral (m receive) ,mutual pining, age gap, size kink, cream pies, mild jealousy plot, sir kink, light bondage (just tying up reader) teasing, sexual tension, teaching assistantxteacher obv forbidden but we still eat it up anyway!

Word count: 12.3K

a/n: happy birthday to the man of my dreams </3 enjoy this little choi san birthday treat. i put my love into this so please love this as much as i did! and thank you @bro-atz for the tidbits of help as always 🩷

apply for taglist here!

You stare at the laptop screen, scanning through your details on the application form, double, and triple checking that everything was filled in correctly. 

“Which professors are you trying as a teaching assistant for?” Your roommate asks, her neck craning over to see you attaching the file to six different emails, to six different professors within the department, pretty much answering her question the moment she reads off each professor’s email. 

“Why not try for the department chair?”

You scrunch your eyebrows as if it’s the first time you’re hearing that. 

“Who?”

“Professor Choi?”

Your eyes widen, your neck almost getting whiplash from how fast you turned to your roommate at the sound of his name. 

“Why the fuck would I try him?” 

Your roommate shrugs in an attempt to hide her amused reaction from your reaction at his name. 

“Who knows? I’m confident he remembers you even though you spent only one semester with him”, she hums turning away to pour herself another ice drink from the pitcher. “On a serious note, you may as well just get all the help you can get. Besides, what are the chances that Prof Choi sees your email? He’s the department chair. I’m sure his mailbox is just flooded anyway.” 

True, you think to yourself, turning your head back to your laptop, and adding the professor’s email address in. But you still hesitate, staring at the application form, your cursor hovering over the send button. Your roommate looks over at you, and she decides that your wishy-washy behaviour is just being the biggest nuisance on earth, so her hand flies over yours and helps you to press send, and she watches you freak out at her while she giggles and escapes after committing her crime, chasing your roommate around the kitchen island for a good seven minutes.

Settling back down in defeat, you sigh in your hands, giving yourself pep talks. 

Right. 

The chances are close to zero that Prof Choi will see my application anyway. 

The chances of him remembering me are close to zero anyway. 

You shut your laptop, and the applications are completely erased from your mind. 

“Yo, check your emails, babe. The application results are out for me”, your roommate says, her eyes glued to her laptop screen. 

You settle yourself down across her, a chilled drink in your hand, pulling up your email inbox. As you expected, you see the subject headline ‘Teaching Assistant Application Results’, and you expand the email.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me”, you mutter, loud enough for your roommate to hear. Her head pops out from behind her screen. 

“Who did you get?”

“Choi San.”

Professor Choi San. His classes weren’t the bane of your existence—but he, himself was. 

And the fact that it only took one semester to solidify that claim. Almost everyone wanted to get into his class, so fucking many of them just squealing over how he looked almost god-like. You wonder how much of a swoon he would be, how much of the rumours that travelled down the stream were factual, though with thousands of students constantly fighting for a spot in his class, you sure were coloured surprised when you landed a spot in Professor Choi’s class. 

The moment he walked in, the whispers within the confines of the lecture hall erupted into gasps and squeals. Unfortunately, the rumours were right—the moment ProfessorChoi walked in, it was as if your eyes naturally followed his movement—confident strides in his steps dictated by his outfit—a simple dress shirt under a dark gray vest that accentuated his wide shoulders and skinny waist.  

He was so fucking handsome—his hair neatly slicked back, frameless glasses sat on his nose bridge, his sharp and small eyes hiding behind the lens. Undoubtedly, seeds of infatuation began lodging themselves in you. Well, it’s not like you had a chance with him anyway, especially when the gold band reflected from his ring finger being a huge indicator. Maybe keeping him as an eye candy would work out just fine. 

Prof Choi’s classes were interesting, and he as a professor, other than being a distraction during the majority of his classes, held his credentials. However, at times, some sarcastic comments would bubble to the surface, and even though he did tend to commend top-scoring students for tests, he still maintained professionalism for the most part—the content taught wasn’t rocket science anyway. You saw yourself being able to breeze through the syllabus for the most part until you received your grade for one of your essays. You stared at his comments, marked in red lines, circles, and words—tone cold and direct—not that you weren’t used to it, but this time? You felt his comments alongside him marking you down were completely unjustified. 

It was then that you pushed past the group of girls who would stay back after class to shamelessly flirt with him, under the guise of wanting to discuss more about the content taught that day, and you stood before the group, asking to speak to Prof Choi personally. Prof Choi did have people staying back after class to consult with him about grades, although they would stay shortly with him staying stern to his marking rubrics, but when he realised you weren’t backing down on top of the way you approached him so directly, it intrigued him.

His office was spacious, considering that he was the department chair—and without introductions, he had you dive in immediately in consultation. 

You wasted no time, flipping through the spent pages of your essay, pointing out areas where you felt his comments were unjustified. Prof Choi listened, and he refuted your points, some of which you decided to accept but not for one particular part;

“This part had no proper scientific support of your argument for this point-“

“Bullshit”, you cut him off. Prof Choi blinked, shocked at the blunt cut from you. His eyebrows were scrunched in confusion next, wondering if he heard right that a student not only just cut him off, but cussed at him.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s here. A small significance value is still something isn’t it?” You replied, pointing at the paragraph after. He glanced at the paper once more, forcing himself to focus while you fought back that your argument was supported. 

So you made Prof Choi sit before you and listen to your elaborations, and needless to say, he was rather impressed, although he had to hold his expression neutral. 

You came out of the consultation victorious—the day Prof Choi called you over after his class again, handing you your script, and you saw your total marks shooting up to a gorgeous score. Your head was so into the clouds that you returned a smirk along with a shrug—showing off your victory and satisfaction as your thanks—an I told you so, leaving the professor to stare after you in awe while you practically skipped to your seat. 

That sealed your fate. 

From then on, Prof Choi would have his attention on you—recognising which seat you picked to sit in in class, wondering why you hadn’t dared sit nearer. And when it came to picking people to answer questions, his gaze would fly to you immediately—either waiting to call you out once you raised your hand or simply calling you when he felt like it. For some sick reason, he finds the way your face scrunches up in stress when he calls your name in his honey-soaked voice amusing, and even adorable at times, though he would never admit it. But oh, did he love the comments and answers you would give him. 

Despite that assignment being the only one where you decided to consult Prof Choi, following every grade release of an assignment, he would single you out, especially after class, to fucking ask if you had questions regarding said assignment, which honestly started to freak you out—mostly because he never gave you the attention before, and you weren’t used to it. The whispering gossip in the class about you being the teacher’s pet slowly reached your ears too, and even Prof Choi heard it—and he only exacerbated that rumours by constantly giving you his attention. 

Every time you reached your dorm, the words that left your mouth which your roommate could recite verbatim, “I swear to god, Prof Choi has it out for me!”

Not to mention you were fucking relieved when the last day of his class rolled around, but unfortunately, his parting words to you were, “I’m sure I’ll see you around, y/n”. You did everything in your power to avoid getting into his class and even bumping into him, which seemed to work swell. 

Until now that is. 

Now here you are again, standing before the familiar heavy wooden door, staring up at the wooden plate, embossed with gold lettering “Department Chair Choi San” staring right at you. You had to physically drag yourself off your bed to prepare for the first day partnered with Prof Choi. And when your roommate’s words of ��oh come on, he can’t be that bad. He’s hot!”, echoed through your ears, it all the more made you want to just ditch your first day by clawing your eyeballs out. 

You had to collect yourself before Prof Choi collected you. 

With a raised knuckle, you rap against the door, taking deep inhales in the process. His voice, which sounded deceivingly like honey, remained the same as you remembered. 

“Come in.”

You pause for a moment, embracing yourself before holding onto to doorknob and pushing his door open. 

There he was, Professor Choi, his eyes focused on the scripts on his desk, which had piled up. His space remained the same as you remembered, for the most part—shelves littered with awards and files, the same desktop taking up one-quarter of his huge ass desk, and the couch with the coffee table left to the side of the room. Prof Choi wore a stern look of concentration on his face, still preoccupied with finishing up marking his scripts. 

When his pen pauses and his gaze shifts towards the door, a small smile spreads across his face. He lifts his head and drops his pen, interlocking his fingers on his desk with growing amusement when his eyes meet yours. 

Fuck, he’s still so handsome.

“Professor Choi”, you greet, holding your expression neutral as you bow, forcing yourself not to fidget with your tote bag. 

“Y/n!” Prof Choi greets almost too enthusiastically. “I would assume you would be more than delighted when I picked you to be my teaching assistant.”

“Honoured, almost”, you reply. It’s taking all of your energy not to break his gaze. He’s staring at you with unreadable eyes, and you’re wondering if the fluttering in your chest is from the anxiety or the way Prof Choi is staring at you.

Prof Choi laughs, and it tickles your ears a little too good. 

“Sit. We have a lot to go through today”, he gestures to the seat before him, and you take it.

He switches on his monitor to his course syllabus and turns the monitor slightly towards you. 

“Oh, before we begin, it’s a pleasure meeting you again, y/n.”

Oh boy, was being Prof Choi’s teaching assistant a fucking handful. You knew it was gonna be rough, but to be assisting Professor Choi San? He was on another level—his schedule would be filled to the brim with meetings with the faculty on top of conducting classes weekly. You struggled in your first month, learning the ropes, especially from a busy and challenging professor like him. He wasn’t mean or cold at all, on the contrary, more direct and meticulous. Well, he had to be, considering his position. Nonetheless, it felt like he was always too busy to attend to your questions sometimes, and that would leave you to your own devices. 

You stand in the aisle, looking down at the assortment of foods lined up in the chiller. Has Prof eaten yet? Does he even eat? What does he even eat? By instinct, you pull out your phone and open his chat. 

[you]: Hi Prof. Have you eaten? I’m at the convenience store near the campus. I could grab something quick for you. 

A couple of minutes go by, but your phone doesn’t receive a ping, and you had to reach the office soon. So you pick up another tuna rice ball for the professor alongside yours before making a beeline for the cashier. 

Prof Choi hears the knock on his door and as usual, he utters his usual “come in”. His gaze lands on you, and he glances at the clock. 

“You’re on time today”, he points out. 

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. “I’m always on time, Professor.”

“You’re usually in a little earlier.”

“Right, because I got you this”, you reply, rustling through the plastic bag in your hands, fishing out the rice ball.

He looks up at you, confusion hinted in his expression. He doesn’t take the food yet. 

“What’s this?” 

“Tuna rice ball. Surely only having coffee in the morning is not filling your stomach.” 

You put the food in front of him. “Besides, I messaged you but you didn’t reply. So I just chose something safe. Unless you’re telling me you’re allergic to tuna or something.”

Prof Choi blinks. His hands reach out to take the snack from the desk, unwrapping the plastic packaging as he watches you leave his office to grab a mug of coffee. He glances over at his phone, and sure enough, your name is there with your message.

Since then, his reply would pop up in mere minutes whenever you asked him if he wanted anything to eat. 

Of course, the more you spent time with him, the more you grew comfortable, and all the thoughts you ever stressed about slowly faded off. Prof Choi grew more relaxed around you, internally grateful that you’re able to tank a significant fraction of his workload for him. Undoubtedly, you also come to realise that Prof Choi is human after all—he obviously would make mistakes, even as someone of his caliber, and deep inside, you found it rather cute, well, until you had to stop yourself from developing deranged thoughts. 

Not to mention, another problem seemed to pop up—his flirty banter. He likely picked up that it made you flustered sometimes, and since then, he wouldn’t let it go, relishing at the way pink creeps up your cheeks when he would say something that wasn’t like his ‘professor-self’, and at worst, feeding into your crooked thoughts. 

You stare at him as he types away, particularly, the metal band around his ring finger. You wonder who was the lucky lady who had the chance to be with him. You blink. 

What the hell were you thinking?

“It’s rude to stare, you know”, Prof Choi’s voice snapping you out of your daydreams. 

“I’m just wondering about your ring, that’s all”, you reply, forcing your attention back to your half-marked assignments.

“I’m not actually married”, he suddenly confesses, and for some reason, it makes your heart beat slightly faster. 

“Huh?” Is all you manage to reply. 

Prof Choi chuckles. He pauses his work on the desktop, turning his attention to you. Even though you have worked so closely with him for a while already, you can never seem to find your composure around him. 

Even though you see his face every week, you can’t seem to wrap your head around how insanely good-looking he is, how sometimes you struggle to maintain eye contact with him, because it doesn’t take long before you feel yourself slowly flushing. 

“I wear it on my ring finger so the students stop asking about my marital status”, Prof Choi clarifies. You watch him pull the ring from his ring finger and fit it over his index. 

“So you’re single”, you echo.

He nods, “I’m single.” 

What is this strange feeling of relief?

“What about you?” He suddenly asks. You’re not looking directly at him, and you don’t realise the way he’s looking at you attentively. And if you do, you just might combust.

“I’m…single too”, you answer, trying to meet his gaze, fidgeting with the red pen in between your fingers. 

“And why’s that? Too busy fighting with your professors for grades?”

You glare at him. 

“I think it was my professor picking fights with me”, you reply quickly, jabbing right back at him. 

You watch Prof Choi lower his gaze, a smile spreading across his cheeks—an actual smile—his dimples showing up. Oh fuck. Just when you thought you could depend on your ribcage to contain your heart properly, you found out Prof Choi could actually smile. 

When he looks up at you again, you break the eye contact, your gaze flying back to the papers before you. 

“You know, I’ve met many students, but you were the first to cuss out at me.”

You did? “I did?”

Your professor nods, cocking his eyebrow at the way you had seemed to have simply forgotten something as eventful as that. 

This time, Professor Choi bursts into a chuckle, completely amused by your reaction. 

“Is that why you kept-“

“Giving you chances to answer in class for credit? You should really thank me for that. Your grade for my class was one of the highest you know.”

You feel your cheeks flush. But before you can retaliate, Prof Choi cuts you off.

“Jokes aside, no. I think the discussion we had that afternoon had an impression on me. The cherry on top was you cussing at me. I liked that. Refreshing and endearing”, Prof Choi continues, his attention seeping back to the pile of scripts before him. 

“I think this side of Professor is pretty refreshing and endearing too”, you let it slip.

His pen pauses in mid-air. You don’t catch his gaze completely softening on you. 

As the semester continues on, you began easing into the class schedules. You watch prof get swarmed by a group of students, a usual ritual that happens right when the class ends. At this point, you had grown used to it. Sometimes the students would come and approach you instead, which honestly surprised you, but your heart would feel warm, knowing that these students trusted you.

It was then you became acquainted with another teaching assistant under Prof Choi, who joined shortly after you did—Choi Jongho. Initially, he came off as a rather shy individual, but the both of you warmed up quickly with each other, sharing the workload and bonding over gossip with each other. Gosh, was he fucking amazing with gossip, especially when it came to Professor Choi. Soon enough, the both of you were texting almost on a regular basis, the conversations weighing more towards academic topics sprinkled with a little gossip. 

“You’re going off with Choi Jongho?”

“Yeah”, you reply, bunching the papers in your hands. “I’ve got some things to discuss with him about.” Partially true. 

For some reason, even though your professor has been completely swamped with papers to grade and meetings to attend, you would always find him loitering around your desk from time to time. He seems to especially enjoy doing that when you’re around. 

“You’ve been spending an awfully lot amount of time with him”, Prof Choi points out, looking over your shoulder as he watches you scribble on another student’s paper. 

“Yeah, we get along well actually. Isn’t that a good thing, Prof? Both your teaching assistants are besties.”

For some reason, that makes Prof Choi frown, but you’re too absorbed in your work to notice it.

A couple of minutes go by, and you still feel his presence, not that you mind, but you’re starting to find it peculiar that he’s been hanging around your desk a lot recently.

“Do you have something to discuss with me, prof?” You ask, eyes still glued to the paper.

“Yes”, he replies, taking another sip from his mug. “What do you think of Choi Jongho?”

Such a random question to ask, you think. Maybe he’s just making sure you and Jongho get along well?

You pause, giving yourself to think, tapping the back of the red pen against your bottom lip, taken aback by Prof Choi’s sudden question, but the conversations you and Jongho had resurfacing into your brain, and a giggle escapes you, which makes Professor Choi subconsciously narrow his eyes and furrow his brows. 

“He’s fun to be around, and despite how he looks, he’s actually got a wicked sense of humor. Oh god, wait. Let me tell you what you he did that day while we were having lunch together-“

You turn your head to continue to run your mouth, only to slowly trail off when realise his face is just inches from yours, and you swear your heart is on a treadmill from the lack of distance between you and Prof Choi. It’s as if time paused, the both of you sinking right into each other’s gazes. You can’t help but notice how intense his gaze is, and you can’t seem to decipher his thoughts, but from the way this situation played out, you swore he’d just lean in and kiss you. 

Your heartbeat accelerates at the thought���why would he do that?

And when his fingers are on your chin, your rational thoughts are getting flushed out. 

“That’s an awful lot of cute things about Choi Jongho. I’ve never heard you talk about another Choi like that.”

You swallow hard, your body still frozen in spot. 

“What do you think about him then?” 

“Jongho? I was just-“

“No. Choi San.”

Oh god. You could only stare back at him. Prof Choi tilts his head, his eyebrows raised, waiting for his answer. His cologne floats and almost shuts down your senses—has he always smelled this good? 

The corner of his lips curl slightly at the way you’re staring at him like a deer in the headlights. 

“I t-think Prof-“

“San. Choi San”, he corrects you. 

Another hard swallow the more you try to focus your gaze on him. 

“I think Choi San’s a great professor. He’s really competent, a lot softer than he presents himself as-“

Fuck you can’t think. Not when he’s staring down your eyes to your lips like that. 

“Mmhm.”

“And he’s really so-“

Then a loud knock echoes across the room, breaking the tension. Prof Choi’s body doesn’t shift, but he looks up at the door, shouting “door’s unlocked”, before he stands back upright, adjusting his glasses and walking back to his desk. 

Jongho’s head peeks in, then he bows at Prof Choi before he walks to your desk. You stare up at him with a forced smile. 

“Ready to go? I was waiting for your message”, Jongho says, his eyes glancing over the professor, then you, a strange feeling that he probably interrupted something. 

You nod, while shoving your belongings into your bag, then slinging it on your shoulder. 

Barely being able to look at Professor Choi, you still force yourself to, bowing goodbye to him. 

“Thank you Prof Choi. See you tomorrow.”

He looks up from his desk, right into your eyes. 

“See you too, y/n.” 

You can’t help but wonder how far things would have gone if Jongho didn’t knock the door.

Jongho isn’t an idiot. Initially, he assumes that you and the professor were on much friendlier terms considering that you came in before he did. Granted, the workload he would give the both of you was the same, he would take the initiative to have lunch with the both of you both individually and together whenever he had pockets of free time, but what roused his awareness was the lingering glances Professor Choi would cast at you from time to time, the way he seemed to relish the reactions you would give him whenever he teased you. 

He notices the way your ears would grow red even when you roll your eyes at the professor and jab him with another playful snarky remark. 

Though he wonders how dangerous things could get, Jongho thinks this could get interesting. 

The semester continues smoothly, the only change being that Jongho being absent from the office more often due to his other commitment to soccer. You remember him telling you he had quite a big match coming up, the sparkle in his eyes bright and twinkling whenever he talks about said sport. 

If he wasn’t in classes, he’d be off for training, hopping into the office from time to time to pass Professor Choi marked scripts and reports. Prof Choi pretty much didn’t mind—he stated as long as Jongho did his job, he could be free to do what he wanted outside of being a teaching assistant.

Needless to say, the office was mostly Prof Choi and you, now even more time spent with him with Jongho mostly being absent. By then, the both of you had grown so accustomed to being in each other’s presence that banters amongst each other became the norm—the both of you competing with each other with unserious remarks, laced with almost flirtatiousness, just to see who would back down first. 

Then came the proximity—since Prof Choi would wander over your desk as if he had all the free time in the world, he would somehow strike up another conversation with you, leaning over to hear you better, his arm bumping into yours to look over at the papers you were grading to check if you were doing them correctly. But what he absolutely adores the most is when you’d roll over to his desk to pester him with your questions—sometimes even testing him on his own content. 

He likes the way he gets to be closer to you. He likes the way your shoulders touch his when you lean in to push the paper towards him so he can see the script better. 

He likes the way you would finally look up and meet his eyes when you’re done formulating your question, waiting to hear his opinion.

Today is no different—Professor Choi being so used to the notion that he would only be seeing you in the office, the corner of his lips pull upwards at the thought of the types of banter you would have with him, the kinds of shenanigans you would bring into the office.

He hears your knock at the time you would always arrive, watching the way the door opens, and your head popping from the door, as you greet, “Hi Prof!” 

“Good morning, y/n”, he would greet back, sipping on his morning coffee. 

You walk over to his desk, dropping his tuna rice ball. “Here you go. Enjoy your breakfast, Prof!”

“You can stop calling me Prof”, Prof Choi suddenly says, twirling the pen in his hand. For a second, you wonder what triggered the sudden change. You’ve been calling him Prof since day one, pretty much used to it already, the only time you didn’t was when he—never mind. The thought of it is making your face flush again. 

“Is there something else you want me to call you?” You ask, trying to calm your heartbeat down when that memory suddenly resurfaces. 

“You can call me San. I’m fine with that. I know you’re still my teaching assistant but we’ve been working closely. I think it’s fine to drop the Prof honorific.”

You try out. 

“Sure thing San”, you reply. “Though it’s gonna take a while for me to get used to this.”

“If you’re able to cuss in front of me, calling me by my name should be the least of your worries, y/n”, San teases.

You raise your hand, feigning a stance ready to smack him before you lower your arm, listening to the way San laughs before rolling your eyes and sinking into your desk. 

The day marches on as normal—attending a class or two with Jongho before he’s whisked away to his soccer practice, leaving just the two of you for the rest of the day. 

San is leaning at your desk again, looking at you typing out your report. He squints slightly before he leans down to your shoulder, his finger pointed at one of the paragraphs, asking you about the content. You answer him, and when you turn your head once you’re done, you find yourself looking at San’s side profile mere inches away—his sun-kissed skin, his pretty lashes, his thick, well-trimmed eyebrows, and the way his lips protrude out a little—he always looked like he’s pouting in the most adorable way. 

That’s when you realise a problem seemed to be bubbling up to the surface, try as you might to ignore it, repress it—that you’re falling for your professor. Fast. 

You snap back to reality, finally aware of how loud your heart is beating against your rib cage, and your hand flies up in instinct as a divider between you and San. San blinks at the sudden movement, confused. 

“Y/n, what are you doing?” He’s not moving. 

“I think I’ve got something on my face.”

San cocks an eyebrow. “You do? Let me check-“ 

His palm covers yours, bringing it down to the table, and you’re kicking yourself for sprouting such a self-sabotaging lie.

Why? Because now San has his hand on yours on top of his face in full view of yours, his eyes meeting yours before his gaze flutters around your face, checking for whatever hell you said was on your face. 

His gaze meets yours and for a split second, something else glints in his eyes. 

The door swings open, and San straightens himself up, slightly irritated at the interruption, leaving you to spin your chair away from San, your hands cupping your cheeks, the heat warming you up against the cold air conditioner. The heat from his hand on yours lingers for a little longer. 

Jongho walks in, his duffel slinging on his shoulder with his shoe bag clipped. 

“Hey, Prof. Hey cutie.” 

San blinks. What did he just call you?

“Hey jjongie. Aren’t you supposed to be at practice?” You ask, forcing yourself to focus on your colleague instead. 

“Supposedly, yeah, but there was a sudden downpour midway so training got cancelled. Might as well get some work done here”, he shrugs, dropping his bag onto the floor. 

San is wrapping his head around the fact that you and Jongho seem to have pet names for each other. 

“Didn’t miss me too much right?” Jongho teases. “‘Cause I did!”

“That’s a first coming from you jjongie”, you reply, surprising a smile. 

“Of course! It’s been a while, how could I not? We should go eat dinner together sometime.”

San only stares on in silence, pretending to sink back into his grading.

Jongho walks over to your desk, taking his turn to look at your report. San watches the way Jongho’s arm is comfortable over your seat, as he asks you about your report, talking to you as if San wasn’t just behind you seconds before. 

The fact you’re entertaining him—hitting his arm playfully and laughing at his remarks—all the more rouses some kind of irritation in San. It’s like a boiling pot. 

He pretends he doesn’t see the way Jongho leans in to whisper something into your ear although it’s bugging him so fucking much. For once, he wishes Jongho’s training didn’t cancel. 

“Oh right before I forget”, Jongho mutters, rushing back to his desk, digging through his bag. He walks back over with a paper in hand and places it before you. You glance down and your face brightens up—it’s a ticket to his game. 

“For real?” You exclaim, your eyes bright, taking the ticket in your hands. “I’ll definitely make time for you.”

“I’ll score goals for you, kay?” Jongho teases, his eyes glancing at San, who is progressively looking more irritated. 

“Ah, Is San not going?” 

“San? Since when were you on first name basis with him?” Jongho wonders aloud, the suspicion only brewing even more. 

“Jongho, don’t you have reports to hand in?” San asks curtly. 

You feel like you are caught in between crossfire for some reason. 

Jongho smiles, then has your head under his arm, which elicits another irritated reaction from your professor. 

You have never had Jongho done this before. In fact, you recall him offhandedly mentioning that he’s never a physical touch person, and that anything with physical touch makes him shudder. 

“Relax, Prof. You’d rather your subordinates get along than not right?”

Just when San is about to reply, Jongho suddenly exclaims. 

“AH, coach is calling me back to the field. Prof, I’ll send you the report by tomorrow okay? See you guys!”, Jongho hums as he runs back to his desktop to turn it off. 

“Has he always been like that?” San wonders aloud, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“I guess. It’s actually what makes him cute.”

“Cute? You think Jongho is…cute?” 

“Is he not? Doesn’t he remind you of a bear? Big and cuddly.”

San clears his throat, and you watch him walk over to your desk, his hand resting on the tabletop. He leans in. 

“So… you find it cute when he gives you pet names?”

“Well, I mean-“

“You find it cute when he plays with your hair?” San curls your locks around his fingers. 

You can’t seem to get words to leave your throat. 

“You find it cute when he has his hands all over you like that?” He’s leaning in even closer this time, arms trapping you at either side.

“Prof-“

“No. It’s sir.”

Your mind is in a whirlwind at the way he’s towering over you, his scent the only thing filling your olfactory senses, the way he’s staring right into you, gaze sharp as a blade. 

“You find it cute when his touches run up your body like this?” His fingers are trailing up your arms, every touch he burns into your skin, and when his thumb pauses at your chin, you realise you’re royally fucked.

Once more, his face is mere inches away from yours. You wonder if you’ll be teased like two previous times before. 

“Of course you don’t. You’d rather I do that to you, right?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Yes, sir.”

His voice is barely a whisper, his eyes downcast, staring at your lips like it’s his reward to claim. 

“Good girl.”

Of course, he claims it.

His kisses are so greedy—his lips prying yours open, and you feel yourself completely give in to him, surrendering whatever resistance, rationale, repression to Choi San. 

You want more—you want seconds. Every swipe his tongue passes your lip, it makes your head float. How does someone taste this fucking good?

He pauses mid-way—barely a couple of seconds, to pull off his glasses and strew them across the desk—then goes back to devouring your lips. 

San would smile in between kisses when he hears your whimpers. He thinks you’re so fucking adorable when you tremble slightly at his touch. It all goes straight to his cock. 

He thinks you’ll be even more adorable when he ruins you. 

When San pulls back, he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, watching your glazed-out expression with amusement. 

"I'd love to continue messing you up, but I have a meeting to attend. I’ll deal with you later, sweetheart. See you next week.”

His touch lingers on your chin for a couple of seconds longer before he pulls away and shifts to walk back to his desk, leaving your heartbeat wild and erratic, and your thighs squeezed tighter.

Since then, that was all you ever thought about—the slight smile before his lips collided with yours, the way his words rang in your ears. You could barely meet his eyes. 

In more instances than one and with any chance given to him, he’d close up any physical distance he had with you. Worried that your emotions would bubble and overflow when he does that, you developed a habit of avoiding his eye contact. 

Even after classes, you swore he was casting you glances even with lines of students waiting to talk to him. 

“Did you piss Prof off or something?” Jongho asks as he shuts his laptop. 

“Why are you asking?”

He shrugs. “It’s just that he’s been eyeing you down like a hawk recently. Did something happen between the both of you?”

You freeze when the flashbacks of the taste of his lips return to your memory when you remember how hungry he looked just wanting to devour you. 

“Y/n?”

You blink, then force yourself to meet Jongho’s eyes. 

“No. Nothing happened. At least I hope I didn’t make any mistakes.”

“You’re fine. There’s a reason why the department chair chose his teaching assistants.”

You laugh softly at his words.

But when you hear San’s voice from behind you, you almost jump. 

“Y/n, Jongho, the both of you can wrap up here and head back to the office”, he instructs. You feel his warmth radiating from behind, and it only makes your heart jump at the proximity. 

You watch Jongho slowly pack up, small conversations sparking between the both of you about his soccer practice. 

You glance at the door. San isn’t back yet. 

“I think it’ll take him awhile to be back. The students there seem to really like him.” 

No doubt, the female students for this class seemed a lot more assertive, almost always demanding all of San’s time. Well, not that it should matter. It’s not as if he should mean anything-

“Y/n? Are you okay? You seem pretty off recently. Even Prof’s pretty worried”, Jongho’s voice grounding you back to the cold office. 

You force a smile and shake your head. 

“I’m fine. I guess it’s just so much workload to deal with.” 

Jongho places his hand on your shoulder in comfort, “You’re doing fine. You know you can approach either of us if you’re struggling right?”

You feel comforted, even though your messy thoughts weren’t even about the workload, so you return an assured smile before waving Jongho off for his soccer practice. 

You’re wondering what you’re feeling nervous about, because when the door of San’s room opens, you jolt slightly. 

“You’re still here?” You hear San ask. 

“Yeah. Need to reply to some emails and double-check some of their assignments.” Not a total lie. It’s the swirling feelings he’s been giving you whenever that day surfaces in your mind, the small bouts of attention he pays you and the touches he lets linger a little too long that’s all a dopamine rush in you. You can’t help but want more. But in the same breath, meeting his gaze will allude doom for you. 

San nods as he sits back at his desk, going right back to his computer. The silence continues for awhile and you’re surprised that you’re even able to concentrate. 

“Y/n”, you hear San call you. 

Your gaze doesn’t break from your screen. “Hmm?”

“Come here. Help me look at this.”

You walk over, ignoring the way your heart is just pounding so damn loudly. It’s painfully obvious that San is staring right at your face, and it’s also painfully obvious that you’re avoiding looking at him. 

And it definitely seems to be ticking him off. 

Your eyes stay locked to his screen reading off whatever is on the screen, and nothing is processing in your brain. 

“It looks good”, you curtly reply, trying to ignore the fact that you’re being stared down by a certain professor. You turn away, your eyes still not acknowledging San, only for your professor to stop you in your tracks. 

“Now where do you think you’re going?”

He’s making you face him now. 

You’re still not giving him eye contact. 

“Back to my desk?” You say, looking off into the distance. But San seems to have other plans. 

“You know ‘looks good’ isn’t the feedback I’m looking for, right?”

Shit. You know that clear as day. 

Now San has both his arms trapping you on his desk. 

You somehow still manage to avoid his sharp gaze even when you’re backing up against him, easily letting him corner you.

His belongings are strewn all over the desk when he pins you down. By some miracle, only papers flutter down his desk. 

And you’re finally looking right at him. 

“You’re finally looking at me, y/n”, he states the obvious. “Now tell me, did I do something wrong?” 

“No, you didn’t, sir”, you reply curtly. 

He leans in closer. 

“Then why are you avoiding my eye contact?”

You shut your eyes and squeeze them. There’s no pure way out of this—your dirty thoughts are seeping into the smallest crevices of your brain, and the more San is prodding you, the more it makes you throb.

“It’s because that evening when we…” you feel your cheeks burn with every word leaving your lips. 

San is waiting for you to continue. 

“When we kissed…couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“And?”

“It made me want…more.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“Has anyone told you how adorable you are when you’re honest?” He chuckles. “I’m gonna finish what we started sweetheart, like I promised.”

It makes your heart flutter. 

“Am I getting your consent for this?”, San’s voice rings in your ears. You’re finding it hard to focus, especially when his thumb is pushing past the corner of your lips, and you’re just growing wet as fuck. 

This is not right. This is so dangerous. 

“Yes sir”, you reply back, trying to ignore the way your cunt is just tingling from the feeling of San’s thick erection pressing against you.

“That’s my good girl”, he praises before he dives in for a hungry kiss, his fingers roaming around your body, squeezing your tits before he unbuttons your shirt at an agonising pace. He smiles on your lips when he hears your soft gasp, and he presses his lips down to your jaw and then to your neck, sucking and biting the soft skin against your neck, his erection growing tighter against his trousers when he hears you moan and squirm. 

When he’s satisfied with the light marks he decorated down your neck, his lips are pressed against your ear, and his hands are moving dangerously close to your cunt, and inevitably, your bottoms are off in seconds, leaving you in your pretty panties. 

“I would prefer fucking you on my bed instead for the first time, but taking you on my desk? Maybe not too bad.”

Your cunt squeezes at the sound of San cussing. You never thought he’d sound this fucking hot. 

He groans when his fingers press against the soaked patch of fabric hiding your pussy. All that wetness for him. He bunches up the fabric and rubs it against your clit, the friction drawing frustrated whimpers from you, much to his satisfaction. It feels so good but it’s not enough, and it’s driving you crazy.

San’s fingers finally hook against the waistband of your panties, sliding them off your legs, and pocketing them, much to your shock. 

And he doesn’t give you much time to focus on that because when he pulls his cock out from his unzipped pants, it makes your head spin from how thick Choi San is. 

“Sir, I’m not sure-“

“It’ll fit, sweetheart, like it’s made for me”, is all the warning San gives before he lines up to your hole and pushes his cock in. 

You can’t tell what’s fucking you up more—the way his cock is stretching you open or the San groaning in relief when he finally gets to stuff you full. 

You bat away your tears, his cock so fucking full inside of you, pressing against your walls, being squeezed so perfectly by you. 

God, Choi San thinks he’s in heaven. 

His fingers brush across your cheeks, collecting your teardrops. His eyes lack any ounce of empathy. 

“Aw, are you crying because it feels good? You look so fucking pretty crying when I’m stretching you open.”

You barely find the words to reply to him, all stuck in your throat, your mind only flooded by the way San’s cock is buried in your cunt, your thighs trembling from the pleasure. It’s almost sickening. You know you shouldn’t be doing this—not with your professor, not on his fucking desk, but when he has you wrapped you around his finger and cock fucking the daylights out of you, it’s a temptation you can never resist. 

A soft hiccup escapes past your lips when San pulls out almost all the way, his cock covered in a sheen of slick and precum before he pushes himself in once more, groaning when you clench around him for the nth time. 

“You feel so fucking good, sweetheart. God, I could just fuck you all day. You’d like that right?”

You’re barely keeping track, eyes rolled to the back of your head while your thighs twitch from the pleasure, but you manage to hold the eye contact, and through blurry tears, you mutter a weak, “Yes sir”. 

“Of course you do”, San hums before he pulls out once more and starts fucking you dumb on his desk. 

No matter how much you try to cover your mouth, bite your tongue or your lip, your moans only come out louder in defiance, the dopamine shooting up your pussy over and over again whenever San’s cock hits your pretty spots. 

Your mind is addicted to the way San’s shirt is buttoned down his chest, his cleavage almost fully out for you to gawk at, the way strands of his hair cling to his forehead because of the sweat, the way his eyes roll back when he feels you squeeze him with every loud fuck, and the way he looks down to you from time to time before he eats up your pathetic moans with hungry kisses. 

He fucked you up so good, you didn’t even realise it until now. 

“S-San”, you manage out a whimper, “please…”

“Please what, sweetheart?”

You don’t even know what you’re begging for. 

“Please… you feel so fucking good. I’m gonna cum. It’s so fucking good”, you babble, trying to force your eyes open. 

San can’t help but smirk when his ego is being stroked so nicely like that, especially by you. He’s a good person, of course, he’ll give what his good girl wants. 

His thumb slides south on your body until you feel the ticklish sensation of him on your clit. Cream and precum pooling at the base of his cock makes it even worse for you—with every graze, his finger pressed onto your clit, the knot tightened in your stomach. 

Your nonsensical strings of words only push San to tease you more as he endearingly watches you break slowly when your orgasm builds up. 

Your body twitches, your back arches, your eyes roll back, white splashes beneath your eyelids. Your orgasm burning through you while you cry out San’s name and you twitch pathetically on his cock, letting your cream leak all over his wet cock. 

“Fuck. You’re such a good fucking girl for me, aren’t you?”, you hear San curse. He fucks you through your orgasm, the overstimulation building up. The sensitivity feels so fucking good. 

His hand catches your jaw, and he forces you to meet his eyes. 

“Wanna pump you full of my cum, keep you so fuckin’ full for days on end,” he huffs, “but not now, sweetheart.”

Not that you minded, but there’s a strange tinge of disappointment ringing at the back of your head. 

San thrusts into you a couple more times before he pulls out, his thick and wet cock resting on your pelvis, twitching as his hand takes over. 

Nothing can beat Choi San’s fucking face when he cums. He looks like he’s in fucking heaven, and he’s tearing up the sky because of you. His fingers leave light marks on your thighs, you hear him groan at such a low tone that your cunt flutters uselessly against the air. Translucent spurts land on your skin, but it barely registers in you—you’re too busy swooning over the way your Professor just cummed over your body. 

San’s high dies down, and he catches his breath, casting you a glance, red dusting his cheeks, before he reaches out for the tissue box to clean you up. 

A quick kiss on the lips before he goes on to collect all the papers all over the floor.

That night he drives you home, filling the space with light conversations as if he didn’t just railed you on his desk. 

It’s only when you reach home that you realise one important thing—San still has your panties. 

You know you shouldn’t be telling secrets to your colleague, especially when it’s about your fucking boss. But here you are, facing Jongho, who has his arms crossed in front of you. 

“What’s up with you and Prof?” You predict the words that leave his lips. 

You hesitate to tell him, unsure how you should even say it, where to even start. 

The worst part you knew clear as day was that nothing changed since that day. You chalked it off as San being swamped with assignments to deal with, that’s why the topic was never brought up again, but something still irked you. The only comfort you had was that the semester was ending, and so was your term as San’s teaching assistant. 

Maybe it was how it was meant to be. Just nothing more than that.

But when you realise the dreaded feeling prickling at the back of your eyes, you knew you were fucked. 

“I don’t know how to even start jjong”, you sigh. Jongho scrunches his eyebrows. 

You watch his expression switch from one to the other. You expected him to freak out at you, yell at you for unprofessionalism or something, but he doesn’t. 

“It’s so fucked up. But I just can’t help but wonder if he feels anything”, you mutter. The thought of you not being the only one he’s doing this with makes your stomach churn. But somehow, in the most twisted ways, confiding Jongho made you feel slightly better. 

“Well, looks like we’ll have to play that card I guess”, Jongho shrugs. “But you should mentally prepare yourself for the results, that’s all I gotta warn you. I just need your consent to play along.”

It’s a risky bet you’re playing, but drastic times called for drastic measures, right?

As the semester closes to its end, so does the workload. San feels a lot lighter on his shoulders, and while he’s grateful for his teaching assistants for lifting a significant amount of workload off him, the end of a semester meant the end of the working relationship between him and his teaching assistants. He usually doesn’t feel that much, considering he has had many teaching assistants in the past, but for some reason, he feels a sense of discomfort lodged in his stomach when he thinks about having to let them go.

Especially one of them. 

He sighs, removing his glasses from his nose and shutting his eyes while reviewing the exams. San feels like a fucking idiot when his eyes land on your empty desk, his frustration bubbling when you cross his mind again. 

Even though he pretends to keep himself busy by flooding his mind with work, somehow, you would bubble to the surface once more, pushing him into the pits of frustration when he’s reminded of the way you get a kick arguing and refuting him just to get a reaction out of him, the way you taste like sweetest thing on earth he’s ever tried and the way you completely unravel when San fucks every single thought out of you—

He bites his cheek. 

No. He has to keep it professional. At least, until the term is over. 

He just doesn’t know how to tell you. 

He knows he’s entered deep waters when he crossed the line that evening, the sight of you undone right before him snapping all his rationale. More than anything, he’s suffering the withdrawals, maybe that’s the punishment he has to bear. 

He glances at the colourful ticket at the corner of his desk. It’s Jongho’s big game. Even though he usually doesn’t let himself intertwine with his subordinate’s personal interests, it’s hard not to. 

In addition, you’ll be there. Maybe he’d snag you after the game and talk to you properly. 

The meeting ran overtime, San glances down at his silver watch, realising he’d missed almost thirty minutes of Jongho’s game. Despite the exhaustion, he pushes it aside and heads to the stadium. 

He watches the brightly lit scoreboard as he takes a seat on the bench, Jongho’s team is in the lead by one point. 

Somehow he gets wrapped up in the game, cheering when Jongho’s team takes championship as the benches all burst into loud cheers too. 

He gets up to leave, already thinking of drafting a text to congratulate Jongho in his head, maybe get him a small congratulatory gift on the side. 

Then he spots you, just rows below. Now, he’s walking down as if on instinct, to get to where you are.

San pushes past the crowd to approach you. He’ll offer to drive you back—he knows it’s all an excuse but anything to get you into his space once more. 

His arm outstretched, reaching out to tap your shoulder, then suddenly stopping when he sees Jongho appear right in front of you. That’s fine. San could just congratulate him at the same time—

Which all of those thoughts immediately disintegrate when he watches Jongho cup your cheeks with his hand, his eyes widening in complete silent horror as Jongho leans into you for a kiss. 

You seriously doubt that Jongho’s plan would work. Didn’t San decide not to come anyway? You heard it with your own ears too. 

Nonetheless, you pushed it to the back of your mind, focusing on cheering for your friend, watching the leading scorer jump from one team to the next. You couldn’t help but erupt into cheers when Jongho’s team won, screams echoing through the open stadium. 

You watch Jongho walk up to the benches where you are, and his arms wrap around you, his smile big and bright, competing with the stadium lights. 

“Congratulations, baby bear”, you tease, pushing against his shoulders lightly. Jongho inches close to you. 

“He’s behind you by the way”, Jongho mutters, loud enough for you to hear, but not long enough for you to process, because his hands are cupping your jaw, his thumb pressed against your lips. 

He hears you muffle some kind of question but your lips stay sealed. 

“You owe me one for this,” is the last thing you hear before he leans in. Your eyes widen in shock, and you freeze in your spot, even though his lips don’t meet yours, evidently separated by Jongho’s thumb, his action had caught you off guard.

You barely have the capacity to process what had just happened, and you feel someone’s warmth tightening against your wrist. 

Jongho lets go of you immediately, but you’re staring right at your professor, who is staring right at Jongho with an unreadable expression, with his fingers curled tightly against your wrist. It feels like an eternity since you saw him. He’s not wearing glasses today and his hair is down instead of his usual slicked-back look, donned with a simple dress shirt and tie which framed his wide shoulders so perfectly.

“Congratulations on your win, Choi Jongho. I believe you should be with your team to celebrate right?”

Jongho only smirks back. “Right. See you babe. Thank you, Prof. See you next week.”

Jongho casts you a glance, the mischief twinkling in his eyes before he turns his heel down the stairs and back to the field. 

What the fuck just happened?

And you find yourself staring up at the male before you, his gaze piercing into yours. 

“Prof—San?” You blink. “I thought you weren’t-“

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, sweetheart. Why would I not want to see the cute relationship my teaching assistants have right?” His voice is laced with venom. 

San doesn’t really elaborate further, leading you to his car, sealing your fate once more when the passenger doors close shut. 

He’s all over you. His body is burning up, maybe just as fast as yours is, and it’s making you feel dizzy. His moves are aggressive, impatient and you swear you feel something else too—desperation. 

“S-San—“ you gasp, in an attempt to take control of something.

“It’s sir to you, sweetheart”, his voice low and gentle, but commanding. Goosebumps scatter across your skin, making you shiver in response when his palms slide up your waist. 

You never saw it coming—from the second his hand grabbed yours, pulling you away from Jongho, his eyes locked into yours for a moment before he turns to Jongho, then to the car ride back, where you noticed the way his knuckles turned pale from gripping the steering wheel. On the walk to his car, you asked him where you were going, and all he did was turn to you and reply, “We’ve got things to talk about, don’t we, sweetheart?”

Now you’re becoming undone once more under San’s touches, trapped beneath him like the first time, now at his place, on his fucking couch instead. 

“It was just foolish of me to just let it be, wasn’t it?” He asks. “Fucking you dumb on my desk wasn’t a good enough indicator, was it?”

“S-sir…!”

“And you think it’s cute getting all cuddly with Jongho? Letting him kiss you all over, touch you all over?” San mutters, his fingers wrapped around your throat, his grip tightening slightly and you’re sure he’s about to leave light imprints. 

But oh, was it so fucking exhilarating—the thought of Choi San riled up like that, a sight you’ve never seen before, and you’re not sure if fear or excitement running through your veins right now, but what you do know, is that if he finds out that your panties are completely soaked through, you’re fucking done for. 

His lips collide with yours again, branding himself as some kind of oxygen thief when he’s turning your mind into complete mush. 

“I’m not sure if it’s a little game to you sweetheart, but if it is, I think you need a reminder.”

You breathlessly look up at him, and he looks ethereal even when he’s panting and looking pissed as hell. 

“What reminder, sir?” You dare ask back. 

The side of San’s lips tugs upwards. His hand leaves your throat and trails down your blouse, effortlessly unbuttoning the apparel until he tugs it off you, panting at the sight of your tits hugged by your lace bra. Your bottoms are off again on the floor of his bedroom, alongside any ounce of rationale. Your soaked panties are agonisingly pulled off your legs, and before you know it, his hands spread them open too. It takes all of San’s self-control to not stuff you full. At least, not yet.

“It’s my cock you’re gonna cum all over. Even when you have another guy’s lips on yours, it’s my name you’re gonna fucking scream.”

Oh. Oh god. 

The pieces of what Jongho was trying to do suddenly come together, unfortunately, the realisation doesn’t last long because San has his lips greedily on yours again on top of the way his full-blown erection is pressing onto your pussy. 

“Sir”, you manage out a weak mutter when he finally pulls away, trying to press and grind against his clothed dick for some friction or anything to rid the burn that’s going through your body. But San remains still. 

“Use your words since you love using your mouth so much.” Like kissing Choi Jongho. 

Your mind is a complete puddle. 

“I really…fuck. I really need you to fuck me right now, sir”, you beg, red flushing your cheeks, but it’s not from the shame. There’s a feral glint in San’s eyes that you don’t miss. 

“No”, is all he answers, and you feel your heart drop to your stomach. 

“Not until I’ve fucked your mouth full, sweetheart.” 

All you can do is watch him speechlessly as he hooks his index finger on the knot of his tie and loosens it, unraveling it back to its original form. 

“Hands together”, he commands you, and you do so immediately, basking in the scent of his cologne while he leans into you, his hands tying knots around your wrists with his tie. “Don’t let it loosen, got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now on your knees.” 

You’ve never dropped to your knees so fast.

San forces you to watch him unbutton and lower the fly of his trousers, and you’re just doing your best not to get drool on his expensive carpet. 

When his cock springs out, you’re also forced to watch him fuck his palm at a slow pace, drinking in his groans, slick staining your inner thighs, and the fucking floor next if you don’t do anything. 

His cock is heavy against your cheek when he taps it there, and your tongue slips out of your mouth by instinct, given experimental kitten licks on his slit, before his fingers catch your chin, and he forces you to look up at him. 

“Look at me”, he instructs. 

You do. You do your best not to break the eye contact, trying not to be sidetracked by his big fucking cock, but your eyes can’t help but dart to his appendage. 

“No, keep your eyes on me”, he redirects once more, his fingers fixing your head in place. 

Then he slides his cock into your mouth and pulls out a choked moan from you. 

“That’s it. Good girl”, he grunts when you start bobbing your head, fucking his cock with your mouth. 

His fingers trail to the back of your head, but he’s using all of his strength not to force your head down. 

But as you pick up the momentum, it’s an automatic reaction to push your head down so his cock hits the back of your throat. Your eyes are watering but fuck you feel like you’re in fucking heaven. Your head spins whenever his wet cock is forced down your tight throat, and you break eye contact a few times, which San has to tap your jaw to make you keep eye contact while he fucks your face. 

“I’m cumming, sweetheart. Fuck. Keep that pretty little mouth open for me yeah?” He groans, bucking his hips, letting streaks of warm white paint your throat and mouth, watching the way you’re looking up at him with doe eyes, taking his cum in your mouth like a good girl. His good girl. 

He smudges his thumb against the corner of your lips before his arms carry you up, only to dump you on the couch.

Your back is on the couch again, hands still tied behind your back and legs up with San pressing his body weight on you.

He props your leg on his shoulder, and he stretches you open inch by inch. You gasp when he fills you up, your walls immediately clenching around him. 

“So fuckin tight for me, sweetheart. You take me so well.”

His thrusts are growing more aggressive mixed in with the possession that’s bleeding in and it’s setting your whole body on fire. Your words are caught in your throat when he’s buried into you to the hilt. He groans at the way your pussy is fluttering pathetically against him. 

It feels so fucking good that nothing but stars engulf your vision when his cock stuffs you full to the hilt again. His name leaves your lips like a mantra on top of broken moans and whimpers, and it only makes San fill up the space in your pussy all the more better. 

His shoulders are so wide that he’s towering over you, his fingers forcing you to face him whenever you’re drifting because of the pleasure, his eyes feral when you look so fucked out for him. And when he combines his heavy thrusts with a squeeze around your throat, it makes your mind shut off and your cunt cream all over his dick.

“Good girl, looking all so fucked out for me.”

 His cock is hitting all the perfect spots, and it’s driving you insane with the knot tightening in your stomach at such a fast pace. You think you’re sliding off the couch but San isn’t letting you—especially not when his thrusts are keeping you on the couch. His name continues to leave your lips in broken moans every time he fucks you. 

San snakes his fingers to your scalp and he tugs sharply, enough to force you to look up at him. You’re tearing up again, and it feels so fucking good with the way he’s keeping your hair tugged while he fucks the ever-loving shit out of you.

“My name does sound much better when you’re crying it doesn’t it, sweetheart?”

You choke back a moan when he hits your g-spot once more.

“Y-yes sir.” 

“How are you feeling?”

“Full. So full sir. Want more. Please. Need you to ruin me”, you beg once more, your mind floating in an endless euphoria.

“Oh, I definitely will”, San hums, watching in sheer pleasure as your eyes roll back when his cockhead presses perfectly against your g-spot over and over.

Before you realise it, your orgasm hits you like fucking train, spreading through your body like a fucking wildfire, engulfing every crevice of your body. 

He’s gonna break you, and you’re fucking loving it. 

“San-“, you cry out, not registering the way he’s wiping the tears off your eyes. “So good. You feel so good. Cumming so much-“ 

“I know, sweetheart. It feels so fucking good doesn’t it?” He asks with a smile, satisfied when you nod frantically while he rubs your thighs.

Your thighs are shaking from how good this all feels, cream staining your inner thighs and his cock when he pulls out. 

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart”, San reminds you. 

He turns you over, keeping one hand on your tied hands, while the other pressing your head against the back of the couch. He lines his cock back to your cunt, pushing into your hole once more. You choke on your moans again, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes until he’s fully seated in you once more. 

The sounds are even wetter now, especially when you’re overstimulated, pussy just being so perfectly abused by Choi San. You fucking love the way his hands are around your neck, forcing you against the cushions when he fucks you dumb from the back. 

Your stomach is in knots once more, the feeling building up faster than the previous time, and all you can mutter is that it feels so good. San thinks you’re so fucking adorable when you’re not having banters with him and being this cock drunk for him. 

Then he pulls you off the couch, letting you catch a breath before he sits you on his lap, his cock still buried in your cunt, and starts bouncing you off his cock from below.

He alternates between melting your brain with his pornographic moans right at your ear and planting more love bites down your jaw. 

“Gonna cum again. You feel so fucking good in me. Oh god”, you hiccup through your tears, the sensitivity pushing your limit. 

“Cum as hard as you want, sweetheart. I’ll let you milk me dry, fill you up so fucking good that you’ll be leaking with my cum for the next two days.” 

That was enough to set you off. Your pussy convulses when your second orgasm hits, fireworks bursting in your eyelids, long drawn-out cries while San fills your tight cunt with his warm and thick cum, while his groans fill up in your ears. You feel his fingers massaging your thighs, coaxing you from your high. 

You’re dizzy, and light-headed as your head slumps against his shoulders, too spent to acknowledge the male behind you leaving more marks down your neck. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart,” San breaks the momentary silence, well aware that his softening cock is still in you. 

Your hand flies up to his chest to stop him, even though you’re still recovering from seeing stars. 

“We need to talk-“

“After we clean up”, he cuts you off, lifting you off his cock and carrying you bridal style to his bathroom. 

But you’re stubborn. 

“N-no. It wasn’t what you thought it was”, you say, feeling your tears well up in your eyes on top of the weight. 

The prickles are starting to form at the bottom of San’s heart, but he’s more focused on trying to hose you down with warm water. But he’s listening you run your mouth, not that he minded. 

“We didn’t kiss”, you reiterate. 

Now he’s just confused. He stares at you. 

“We just had sex, y/n”, San reminds you, trying not to let the red reach his cheeks. 

“No—I mean Jongho and I. We didn’t kiss”, you clarify.

San doesn’t really know if he should believe your words or his eyes, but now he’s focused on lathering your hair and body. 

“That wasn’t what I saw”, he replies, avoiding eye contact. 

“That’s cause we did this-“ you huff, turning his head to face you, imitating the way Jongho had slid his thumb between your lips and his, demonstrating San the fake kiss. 

San only stares at you wordlessly when you pull back, only more questions than answers. 

“But why would he do that for?”

“He was trying to rile you up.”

“For what?”

“To see if you felt anything for me?”

“By kissing you?”

Oh god. It felt like the more you explained, the more San was getting the wrong ideas. You let your head sit in your hands, unsure if it’s from the embarrassment or the fact that you don’t even know where to start. 

“It wasn’t a kiss, Choi San”, you groaned, your hands leaving your face, suddenly self-conscious that San is staring intently at you. “After we, um, fucked the first time, you acted like nothing happened, and I felt like shit about it, and I told Jongho and then…” you trail off, feeling your cheeks heat up again. It’s probably the hot water, at least that’s what you try to convince yourself with.

“I don’t kiss people I’m not in love with, San”, you sigh in defeat. Your eyes are downcast, but you feel his fingers cup your cheeks, and his lips press onto yours. You swear you could go another round again. 

The silence hangs in the air for a while, only the sounds of the shower filling the emptiness when he pulls back. 

“I didn’t do anything since after that evening because I wanted to properly tell you after the term ended.”

“Tell me what?”

“That I’m in love with you, too.”

You blink. Somehow that shocked you more than the both times he fucked your brains out. 

You don’t answer him because your head is just swarming with so many thoughts, and San lets you do so, satisfied that he’s finally have you quieten down so he can finish washing you up. 

Even when he’s dressed you in his oversized hoodie, San peppers you with kisses, basking in the way you sometimes cover his face with your hands to stop him, which only rouses him to continue to attack you with his lips.

San’s arms are tight around you when the both of you are finally on his bed. You smell like his favourite body soap and he can’t seem to get enough of it—nuzzling against the crook of your neck, muttering sweet nothings. You think this is probably your favourite version of Professor Choi. 

Your fingers twirl around his splayed-out locks, and you speak. 

“Prof Choi”, you tease, and San looks up, and it’s the first time you actually see him pout—it almost makes you combust. 

“I told you to stop calling me that”, he frowns, burying his face, feigning trying to cut off physical contact from you, which only makes you laugh in response. 

“I just wanted to disturb you”, you respond, trying to yank him back into your arms. “I do have a question though.”

His head pops up from his pillows and he stares at you, waiting for you to speak. 

“When did you realise you had feelings for me?”

He pauses, giving himself a couple of minutes to think. 

“The moment I received your teaching assistant application.”

📚 Bonus Epilogue 📚

“Prof Choi!” One of his teaching assistants calls out to him. 

He turns his head and attention to her, pushing up his glasses. 

“Yes?” 

“I need help with this part of the assignment. Could you help me check that I’ve marked it correctly?”

San nods, taking the papers from her. 

As he scans through her work, the teaching assistant’s eyes glance down at the band hugging his ring finger. 

“Prof, you’re married?”

San pauses his writing to glance at the glistening gold on his finger, and a small smile spreads across his cheeks. 

“You know, I used to wear a ring on my ring finger so students would stop asking me if I was married or not.”

She raises her eyebrows, her curiosity piqued. “So you’re not?”

“I am.”

Her eyes brighten, invested in her handsome professor’s love story. 

“Tell me more then”, she asks. 

San scoffs playfully, turning his gaze to her. 

“All I can tell you is that she’s always been my favourite.”

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @pre1ttyies @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @ywtf @woojirang @yuyusgirl

@jeon-ify @itza-meee @miss-fallon @hwallazia @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @kibs-and-bits @s-h-y-a @liyahbug05-blog @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn @vic0921 @sanhwajoong @bitejoongie @no1likevie

network: @atzhouse @cultofdionysusnet @cromernet

[namelessdumbass]

THEY ARE REAL

the hand holy shiiiiiiiiiiit 😫🥵🥺😭🤤🥲😌😍

[X]

[starryeyeddreamer21]

Thinking about the ways different Alastor and Lucifer would react to seeing each other

Lucifer would brighten when Alastor walks into the room. He's glowing, he's grinning, he perks up whenever he sees him.

Alastor would soften. His body less tense, his smile genuine. He looks at Lucifer and he melts.

But either way as soon as they see each other they're suddenly the only thing that matters. Everything and everyone else is forgotten, their current mood, the person they're talking to, all they're paying attention to is the other. They always end up stuck together like glue, their eyes never fraying once they connect.

[wayfinderships]

The Snow yearning is so strong tonight

[aelswiths]

Aelswith x Alfred (being so cute and married) in 2x05

For @kingslionheart, @ladyfenring, @garunsdottir

[silverselfshippingchaos]

I miss S.hepard. The third game always makes my heart hurt lmao

[vaadrage]

I can't stop grinning. For many moons, I've imagined this future with him, side by side facing all the facets of life, its hardships and joys, even the mundane days. We have persevered together for as long as we've known each other, and I have been nothing but happy with him, even in spite of all our struggles. But it's so deeply humbling—honouring!—to be asked proper for this forever. Until the end of our days, perhaps past if our souls persevere… What can I say? Beyond yes a thousand times. I so deeply love this man. I can wax poetic for ages—his endless intellect and curiosity, his playful nature, the depth of his voice. The way he holds himself, the skill he displays in a myriad of crafts, or his courage in striving for better, always. And more often, I'm so taken by his passion and tender heart, the love he gives in spades, that endless ocean within. That I could be the one he loves most is truly my brightest treasure. @marcelloix

[nariism]

i'm fine. i'm fine....

all stars must die one day

SYNOPSIS: it’s always been him- stupidly perfect and handsome Alhaitham who you saw as the bane of your academic achievements. Three years later and now so much has changed. He misses you. He misses your endless bickering and meaningless fights. Why did you change so much? It’s a mystery he makes up his mind to resolve.

CHARACTERS: Alhaitham, gossip circle consisting of Kaveh, Tighnari, and Lisa + the rest of the Sumeru cast

TAGS: heavy angst w/fluff, academic burnout, burnt-out gifted kid, mild profanity, gn reader, reader is briefly mentioned to be shorter than Alhaitham, toxic family dynamics, 15.7k+ word count

NOTES: college decisions and my experiences from the past two years really compelled me to write this. If you’re going through burnout, know that you’re not alone and that you can do this.

this took me almost half a year to finish wtf

There’s a comet that crosses Sumeru’s skies only once in a lifetime. 

Alhaitham had heard some Rtawahsit students discussing it the other day. They were practically buzzing with excitement over the news of its reappearance.

“Isn’t this the perfect opportunity?”

“How lucky are we to be able to witness it?”

“Even our professors are excited about it!”

Alhaitham couldn’t care less. The phenomena of celestial events, while dazzling, are easily explained by science. It’s not like they were anything special either. At their heart, they’re composed of ordinary materials- rock, dust, water, and ice, plus other chemicals. 

He puts it out of his mind until he’s rudely awoken one night by loud noises outside the window. A flash of annoyance runs through him as he gets up and looks out to glare at the crowd of students passing through. A glance at their berets tells him they’re Rtawahsit students. They’re trying their best to be quiet, but when it’s practically an entire Darshan on the move, that becomes a difficult task. 

It seems as if he’s not the only one that was woken up. Other familiar faces are peeking through cracked-open windows. Lisa, Cyno, and Tighnari all yawn while watching the crowd of students pass by before looking at each other and following them. Kaveh, who has just woken up from his spot across the room, gives Alhaitham one last look before leaving.

Alhaitham closes the window and flops back onto his bed. He covers his ears with his pillow and closes his eyes, attempting to fall back asleep. He never cared for what other people thought or did, so why should he blindly follow the crowd? He wasn’t even curious anyway.

But for some strange reason, he can’t seem to fall asleep. He tosses and turns, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration, before finally getting up to put his restless mind at ease. 

It’s easy to figure out where everyone has gone. All he has to do is follow the sounds of chatter. It leads him to the top of the Divine Tree the city is built upon. There, Rtawahsit students are busy setting up their telescopes while others have pen and paper at their disposal for note-taking. Professors guide said students while those from other Darshans watch on in curiosity and gaze at the sky in anticipation. 

Tighnari and the others beckon him over. He squeezes himself into the secluded corner they claimed for themselves, poking Kaveh with his limbs intentionally in the process. To his surprise, you’re there too. You lean against Lisa’s arm and shoot him a little glare that lacks any real hate before turning back to the sky, glaring at him when he decides to sit in front of you and block your view. 

“Look!” shouts a student. “It’s started!”

Almost immediately, everybody goes silent. Only the sounds of birds and wildlife can be heard, along with the quiet breathing of everyone searching wildly for it.

(He’s acutely aware of the warm puffs of air that tickle the back of his neck when you exhale. It shouldn’t be this distracting, but it is. Is this your way of getting back at him?)

There’s an excited gasp from a girl with her telescope. She wildly gestures toward the sky and Alhaitham sees a bright speck of light out of the corner of his eye. Several smaller meteors zip through the sky, but everybody’s attention is on the largest one. It outshines all the other stars in the sky as it speeds by, heating up into a white-hot glow and leaving a glittering trail of blue stardust behind. It is a star not of this world, speeding onward toward its destination- toward something greater. 

“Look,” he hears Lisa whisper. He briefly tears his attention from the sky to see her lean toward you. “Make a wish.”

Alhaitham sees you close your eyes for a moment before opening them again. What did you just wish for?

It’s gone in just a few minutes, heading toward the horizon until not even a pinprick of its light can be seen anymore. The sky is now dark again. With the main event over, most people begin getting up to return to their rooms. His eyes linger on your form, now walking away. Lisa’s voice from earlier repeats in his head.

“Make a wish.”

It’s a childish belief not rooted in reason- he knows that. But for just a second, he closes his eyes and makes a wish. 

He met you at the start of his first year. 

It’s too loud here. I want to go home already.

From his seat in the back of the room, he watches as spots gradually fill up as the start time draws nearer. Much to his delight, everybody leaves his spot in the back of the classroom alone, instead opting to sit toward the front. 

That is until someone sits down in the row in front of him. He looks up from the pages of his book, slightly annoyed. Curses, now he couldn’t be by himself anymore. But they leave him alone and keep to themselves as the professor walks in and introduces himself and the class, so he tolerates it. 

There’s a light tap on his desk. He looks up to see you watching him expectantly. He’s able to get his first good look at you now. Your Akademiya uniform is a little too big on you and the sleeves drape over your hands. Your green hat sits lopsidedly on your head and you have the air of a starry-eyed and enthusiastic first-year student. 

“Yes?” 

“The professor told us to introduce ourselves to those around us,” you explain. “I’m (Name).”

“Alhaitham. Pleased to meet you.”

You nod in response and turn back around. Your professor is explaining the course and handing the syllabus out, but your mind wanders toward the guy sitting behind you whom you’ve just met. 

He’s cute, you think to yourself. In like, a little kid or puppy kind of way. He’s still a little short and scrawny- wait, how old is he anyway? Don’t tell me he’s one of those child prodigies that got in at a super young age… Or maybe he’s just a late bloomer, who knows? 

A few weeks later, the results of your first test roll around. The 98 scribbled and circled in red ink at the top of the paper makes you nod in satisfaction. It’s indicative of a good start, but when you take a look at the board in front of the class, you see someone has gotten a perfect score. 

And it turns out the culprit himself sits right behind you. 

You glare at the 100% in red ink at the top of his page as if it has personally offended you. As if to further insult you, there was a small “good job!” written in the margins by the professor that you didn’t have on your paper. 

“A 98? Good, but not perfect. Perhaps you should have studied more,” he nonchalantly remarks after seeing yours. Your eye twitches in irritation.

Oh, it is so on. 

From that day onward, you swore to yourself that you would beat Alhaitham, no matter what it took. Even if it meant sleepless nights spent hunched over your notes and textbooks, they were all a price you were willing to pay to prove that you were the undisputed best. 

Soon after, you don’t see Alhaitham in class anymore. His seat behind you is left unoccupied and you hear rumors that he opted for self-study instead- whatever that was. Despite that, he still gets top marks in everything, only serving to annoy you and spur you onward. 

However, you still see him at the library, and frequently at that. It’s somewhat surprising, considering that the Akasha Terminal has the same function and is more convenient. As a result, the library is mostly empty save for the few students that are there to study materials that aren’t entered into the Akasha’s database. You’re there because you prefer the quiet, focused environment of the library to your dorm, which despite the Akademiya and its students' almost religious devotion to academics, can get a little too rowdy for your liking at times. Plus, you prefer the feeling of a physical book in your hands over its digitized counterpart in the Akasha. It makes it easier to take notes and learn that way. 

Recently, you’ve found a spot in the library that you’ve taken a liking to. It’s located in the back and obscured by bookshelves, giving you some much-needed privacy while you study and it’s located by a window, allowing for ample natural light.

But apparently, someone else has already claimed it, unbeknownst to you. 

“This is my spot.”

You don’t even look up from your book. The voice alone was a dead giveaway as to who was speaking. 

“And? I didn’t see your name on it.”

Alhaitham sits at the seat across from you, purposefully spreading his books and other materials across the desk to push yours off to the side. A satisfied smirk twitches at the corners of his lips when he sees your eyes narrow in irritation. 

“Are you here just to bother me?”

“If I wanted to bother you, I’d find other ways to do it.” 

You huff in annoyance and turn the page. He watches you over the top of his book with intrigue as you alternate between reading and taking notes. 

“... Will you quit staring at me like that? It’s distracting.”

“Oh? So you’re admitting that I’m a distraction?”

“You-!”

A sharp hiss to be quiet from a librarian passing by silences you both temporarily. You glare at him accusingly, which he merely brushes off.

There’s a reluctant compromise that arises between you after that. Every day after class, you would meet at the same spot in the library to study. You would sit across from each other and work independently from each other until it was time to go, where you’d then say your goodbyes before heading your separate ways. Rinse and repeat and that was what your average day looked like. 

“So, what’s up with that thing between you and (Name)?”

You pause from your studying after overhearing that line and look up. Across the clearing are Alhaitham and a blond-haired man. Kaveh, if you recall his name correctly. 

“I don’t know what you’re trying to imply,” replies Alhaitham. 

“Is there some sort of competition between you two? Whenever I see you guys, you’re basically at each other’s throats over test scores and stuff.”

“There is no such competition. That would be a pointless waste of my time and energy.” 

The urge to throw your book at his head across the clearing is strong, but you’ll settle for Kaveh giving him a doubtful expression.

“You say that and yet you’ve been putting more work into your studies than ever.” 

“That’s none of your business.” 

But for all your efforts, you can’t seem to catch up to him. He was always one step- or rather, one point- ahead of you. He’d always be there, subtly rubbing his achievements right in your face even though the difference is practically negligible at least half of the time. 

It gets to the point where you begin to rant about your troubles to Lisa. 

“Can you believe this guy? It makes me wonder if he’s a sadist of some sort that gets a kick out of annoying me.” 

You’re sitting outside in one of the many gazebos around the Akademiya. Despite studying under a different Darshan, you quickly became friends with her.

She laughs lightly at your words.

“To me, it sounds like your poor heart is troubled! Shall doctor Lisa perform a checkup on you?”

You swat her hand away.

“Don’t play with me like that. And you’re not even an Amurta student!”

You hear footsteps coming down the pathway and speak of the devil, the topic of your conversation is walking toward you, his book in hand as always. You watch him out of the corner of your eye. He meets your gaze and holds it for several long, agonizing seconds before looking forward again and disappearing out of sight. You shudder and look away, Lisa chuckling lightly at your actions.

“Asshole,” you grumble. “What’s his problem? And did you see how cold his eyes were? Makes me wonder if the rumors of him having a heart of ice are true…” 

Lisa hesitates at that. 

“I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong, (Name).”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

She purses her lips and looks off to the side. 

“It’s hard to explain, even for me. But you’ll see and come to understand in due time how acutely aware he is of the emotions of those around him, especially those he is close to.”

You think you understand the meaning of her words a few weeks later when the results of a particularly rough test greet you.

75%

Damn it, you think before roughly shoving the papers into your bag, away from the prying eyes of your classmates. I can’t falter here now. I still have so much more to do.

“I can tutor you if you’d like. I don’t offer this to just anyone, so I’d advise you to consider it,” Alhaitham says in the library later that day. You know that most people would kill for this opportunity and you weren’t blinded by jealousy to the point where you couldn’t see the benefit of his offer. 

But your pride prevents you from accepting it.

“Thanks, but I’m fine. I’d rather do this myself.” 

Another time, Alhaitham has to get up at a time when he should be asleep. Earlier that day, he had left a book of his behind and forgotten about it until now, leaving him to search the now-dark and empty halls of the Akademiya for where it might be. 

He happens to pass by the House of Daena on the way and sees a solitary lamp lit in the back corner where he usually frequents. Out of sheer curiosity, he steps inside to see there’s a familiar figure hunched over the desk, clearly fast asleep with piles upon piles of books and notes stacked around them. 

Alhaitham gazes down at you with his ever-impassive eyes, silently wondering what to do next. A cold gust of air blows through the library and he shivers slightly. He looks down at your exposed arms, then at his jacket, before taking it off and draping it over your form. Catching a cold would serve you no good and you’d most likely return it to him later tomorrow. 

Before he leaves, his curiosity gets the better of him and he takes a quick peek at your notes. 

His eyes widen ever so slightly. Much of the material scattered around your desk was far ahead of what you were and needed to be learning. Did you borrow these books and notes from upperclassmen? The handwriting is a mix of yours and someone else’s… He doesn’t see the point in you doing so- it’s all just unnecessary work, in his opinion. Either way, it’s none of his business and you can do as you please, but Alhaitham can’t help but wonder if you were doing all of this just to stay ahead- to keep up or even surpass him.

He leaves and you wake up soon after to something warm and soft covering your shoulders. It’s a standard Akademiya-issued jacket for the fall and winter terms. It’s way too big on you and the sleeves completely cover your hands. Curiously, you pull it tighter around your form. It smells nice- like old books and coffee- and you suddenly realize who it belongs to. Your face suddenly flushes and it’s not from the warmth of the jacket.

Alhaitham-!

The next day, Alhaitham arrives at his usual spot in the library. You’re sitting across from him as usual and interestingly refuse to make eye contact with him.

Sumeru’s climate has always been temperate, but the days are getting longer and warmer now. You’ve finally shed your winter uniform for your spring one and with the end of the year rapidly approaching comes major tests. The library is the most packed it's ever been with students everywhere cramming last-minute. It’s rare to find an empty table now, but thankfully your spot in the back with Alhaitham is still left unoccupied. If not, Alhaitham’s cold glare is more than enough to scare them away. 

For one of your classes, it’s a project instead of a test. You have the option to choose the type of project, but for some stupid reason, your professor was still assigning partners instead of being able to choose.

“And (Name), let’s see… hmm, I’ll pair you up with Alhaitham. How does that sound?”

Your blood runs cold and you hear your classmates snicker around you. You want to scream at the prospect of it. Sumeru would sooner freeze over before the two of you cooperate and he knows it. You catch him staring at you out of the corner of your eye, daring you to say no. 

You swallow your pride and nod. The tips of your ears burn and at that moment, you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole. 

“... That sounds fine.”

How humiliating.

Later that day in the library, he’s even more infuriating than normal, if that’s even possible. His face betrays nothing but you can hear the smugness dripping from his voice and mannerisms. His arms crossed in front of his chest, the way he would subtly look down on you with that know-it-all gaze… it all made you want to punch his (handsome) face. 

“Don’t fall behind now,” he says once you’ve finally settled on a project.

“Let’s see if you can even keep up with me.” 

Your project is relatively straightforward but involves a lot of cooperation between you two. As you work, it becomes an all-too-common sight to see you arguing everywhere you go, much to the irritation of others.

“I’m telling you, this character has to be symbolic of rebirth! Why else would we see it so concentrated in scripts that were dated toward the end of that civilization?”

“You seem to be forgetting that this has also been seen elsewhere. Besides, there are reasons to believe that it means something else.”

“What, did it get lost in translation? If you think you’re so smart, then go ahead and enlighten me.” 

You glare at him as he sips his coffee (with milk and two sugars, you note. Just the way he likes it). 

“God, can they just kiss already?” grumbles Kaveh from where he sits across the room. Lisa and Tighnari sitting at the same table nodded in agreement.

“Meeting up to work outside of class is normal, but over lunch? Sounds like a date to me,” complains Tighnari while not-so-subtly eyeing the way you animatedly bicker with him. 

“Hey, isn’t this Alhaitham’s treat as well?” asks Kaveh. Tighnari’s ears twitch and perk up at his question. He glances at the both of you- Alhaitham just paused to ask if you’d like a refill of your tea, and you said yes- before groaning.

“It sure looks like it…”

Lisa decides to take matters into her own hands.

“Are you two arguing or flirting?” she asks in a loud voice.

“Arguing!” you retort. Alhaitham merely rolls his eyes and steals one of your samosas while you aren’t looking. 

“I saw that! Give it back!”

“Too late.” 

Two months, lots of bickering, and lots of coffee later, you present the culmination of your work to the class. For all the headaches and lost sleep you had to endure, your efforts are handsomely rewarded with a perfect score and rare compliments from your professor. And for that alone, it was well worth everything you went through. 

“Good job. It was a rewarding experience working with you. I daresay that our arguments aside, we make for a decent team.” 

You look up to see Alhaitham.

“Oh? A rare compliment from the stoic and sharp-tongued man himself?”

“Don’t make me retract my words.”

“Ouch, how cold of you.” 

When you return to your dorm later that night, there’s a note addressed to you from Lisa.

I overheard one of your professors talking about you and Alhaitham with someone else today- Professor Behnam, I think that was his name? I’m fairly sure this was after you guys presented because they mentioned that briefly. I wrote this down in a hurry as they were speaking, but here’s what he said:

They complement each other perfectly. While they both have unmatched erudition and wit, one has the creativity and uninhibited ambition the other tends to lack. However, he is more pragmatic and logical. Despite their differences, they make for a perfect team.

They will surely be among some of the best scholars the Akademiya has seen in a long time.

You end your first year tied for the top of the class with him.

“I’m home!”

“Welcome home, (Name)! How were your last few weeks at the Akademiya?”

Your parents’ home is as warm and welcoming as always. The house has been freshly cleaned and is practically shining. They take your bags and usher you into the kitchen, where your favorite dishes are sitting on the kitchen table, freshly cooked for dinner with steam still rising from them.

“It’s been fine,” you say. “Stressful, but also enjoyable. I like my classes and I get along with my classmates and professors.” 

“How are your grades? Have they been finalized yet?”

You nod and beam them with pride.

“Ended the year at the top of the class.”

Your parents’ eyes widen and they clap excitedly.

“That’s our child!”

“As brilliant and talented as always!”

“Good, keep going! Remember to study for money!”

“I will!”

Your mother leans in close and clasps your hand in hers. “After these four years, you should continue your education and become a sage! Maybe even work your way up and become the next Grand Sage!”

You balk at the prospect of it.

“A-A sage? Mom, there are tons of talented people in the Akademiya- that’s where the best of the best go to study! The chances that I’ll make it to that point are slim!”

Your father clicks his tongue and shakes his head. 

“Nonsense!” he exclaims. “You ended this year at the top of your class, you know. Besides, you inherited the intelligence of both your parents- I’d imagine that this would be a doable task for you. Also, imagine how amazing it would be if you were to become a sage! You’d be the first one in the family! Wouldn’t that be such an achievement for us?”

“That’s not even true! There was someone else who tied with me for the top of the class as well and if I’m being honest, he has a better shot at it than me!”

Your mom’s eyes sharpen and you instantly regret saying that. 

“He? So… a guy, huh?”

You mentally brace yourself for a barrage of questions.

“What’s his name? What’s he like? How smart is he? Is he good enough for you? Does he have-”

“Dear, stop it,” your father says. “Look, you’re overwhelming them.”

You sigh and shake your head. “For starters, his name is Alhaitham-”

“Alhaitham? I’ve heard that name somewhere before… wait, I remember now!” exclaims your father. “His grandmother was a Ksharewar scholar. His mother was a renowned Vahumana scholar and his father was a mentor in Haravatat.”

“Was?” you ask. Your father bites his lip and looks away.

“... His grandmother passed away a few years ago and from what I heard, so did his parents when he was young.” 

“Oh.” 

The kitchen is silent for a few moments before your father breaks it.

“Wait, (Name), why do you look so surprised? I thought you knew this already, considering he’s your rival and everything! I thought you would at least know something about him.”

“Dad, that’s exactly the point- we’re rivals and I don’t want to know anything about him! All that matters is beating him at his own game and that’s that. Besides, he never tells me anything about his personal life, so why should I do the same?”

“They’re right, you know.”

Your father merely rolls his eyes at your mother’s remark. 

“You know the rules, don’t get too close to him now,” your mother warns. “You have to do whatever it takes to be the best, whatever? That’s what you promised us.”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, mom, I know. I’ll do my best to become a sage.”

Your parents lean in to hold you close, your mother giving you a soft kiss on the forehead.

“That’s our child. Make us proud, ok?”

“I will!”

After a lovely three months of summer vacation (and not being forced to see Alhaitham every day save for the rare occasions where you’d run into him in public- you’d immediately turn the other way and act as if nothing happened), you head back to the Akademiya for your second year. Like last year, you share many of your classes with the bane of your existence, although things are… less tense than they were before. The underlying spark of competition is still there, but not as prominent as before.

Alhaitham is pleasantly surprised at how you’ve mellowed out over the summer. Something in your eyes has hardened and the way your mouth is set is different now. You’ve lost some of the baby fat in your cheeks (shame, he enjoyed poking and prodding at them, much to your annoyance) and you’ve grown a bit taller as well. He’s grown taller as well and to your irritation, he’s gaining on you. He’s put on some muscle as well and according to Kaveh, who you befriended over the summer, he’s started learning the art of the sword.

(“What for?” you had asked back then. He had merely shrugged.

“Too much free time on his hands, I guess. I thought he was training to be a mercenary at first.”

“I just can’t imagine him with a sword. In my mind, I see him toppling over from the weight of it.”

“Same here.”)

On the first day back, you merely greet him with a nod and you’re less opposed to working with him than before- although you can’t seem to break the habit of making a sarcastic jab at him now and then.

As the year progresses though, Alhaitham notices a change in you- namely, your test scores. He catches a glimpse of them sticking out of your folder at the library.

85%. 75%. 83%. 79%. They’re not as good as they were last year but they aren’t a concern for Alhaitham. As far as he knows, you’re still doing good overall and your classes are getting harder. It’s only reasonable and he hasn’t observed any noticeable or drastic changes in your personality, so it doesn’t warrant any concern. 

That is, in his eyes. The same can’t be said for you though.

You didn't realize how much time you had spent studying until the library was closed one day. Sitting at your cramped desk with your roommate you barely know nowhere in sight, you’re suddenly aware of how quiet it is. Normally, you’d hear at least something- people arguing down the hall and music playing, among others. But today, it was eerily silent. 

From the back of your mind, you recall news of a party that was supposed to be happening around this time. Lisa extended an invitation to you but you turned it down, claiming that you had to study. It was a bullshit excuse, now that you think about it. 

(Lisa had looked at you knowingly when you said that, but not in a good way. Worry was present in her eyes, resigned to the fact that she couldn’t do anything.

“Alright,” she had said. “Just… don’t head down the path I think you’re on.”)

Your pen freezes mid-stroke as a horrifying thought crosses your mind. You now finally understand the true meaning of her words. 

Have I… been making the right decisions? How much have I missed out on? 

Your books and the allure of good grades tempt you, but you force yourself to evaluate your life so far. You have some of the highest marks in the entire class but you realize you have almost no experience or connections, and that was what really mattered.

All of the studying in the world can’t compare to pulling a few strings, after all.  

Not long after the year starts, Alhaitham notices that you’ve started going out more. You’re spending less of your time at the library during weekends and instead spending time with friends in the city. 

(“You actually have a life outside of the Akademiya. I’m surprised.”

“I should be the one telling you that.”)

 “Come on, (Name), come join us at the tavern tonight! We booked the place and everyone is going to be there! You’re missing out if you don’t, just saying…”

The familiar voice belonging to a certain blond makes you look up. You huff a sigh and set your notes down to glare at Kaveh, who has been pestering you to go to a party at Lambad’s Tavern tonight. You’re about to tell him you’re not interested when you stop just short of saying so.

Will I regret saying no?

“(Name), you’re young right now! Take some risks and live life a little, otherwise, you’ll have nothing to look back fondly on once you’re all old and wrinkly! That old dusty rock-of-a-friend Alhaitham would say the same thing, you know… although, maybe he’d phrase it differently.”

Kaveh’s right, you realize. I can make up a test. I can always study later. But I’m only young for a little while. I can’t make up for lost time. 

“Just curious- what’s in it for me?”

“Oh, the usual. Free food, entertainment, a break from these stupid books, alcohol- oh, and you might get to see a rare drunk Alhaitham there! Doesn’t that sound exciting?”

“No need to venture into that territory. You already had me at the free food part. So, what time?”

Later that evening at the tavern, you realize Kaveh wasn’t kidding when he said everyone was going to be there- he really did mean everyone the moment you step inside. Lisa is the center of attention with wide-eyed students gawking at her alcohol tolerance- seriously, how is she not drunk yet?- while Tighnari stands in the corner with his ears folded over and eyes squeezed shut. Cyno’s glare is more than enough to scare anyone away as he leads the fox hybrid upstairs toward a quieter spot. 

There’s enough alcohol being passed around to knock a Sumpter Beast unconscious. You only have a few drinks, not wanting to be hungover on a weekday. At one point, a familiar voice drifts its way over to you.

“(Name), over here!”

It’s Kaveh, and… Alhaitham next to him is drunk from the looks of it? His face is flushed and he stumbles as he walks with Kaveh being the only thing stopping him from faceplanting onto the floor. 

“I thought Alhaitham could handle his alcohol?” you ask as you sling one of his arms around your shoulder and make your way out the tavern. 

“He does, but he tried a new type of alcohol tonight that was stronger than he expected. Fire-something… it’s from Snezhnaya, if that explains anything.”

You glance at his heavily flushed face again and sigh.

“Yeah, that explains everything.”

After lugging Alhaitham across Sumeru City and up the many steps leading to the Akademiya, you’re prepared to say goodnight to Kaveh and head back to your dorm when you feel something latch onto your shirt. It’s Alhaitham and even in his drunken stupor, he’s surprisingly strong.  

“Wait.”

“What is it?” you ask after a moment of hesitation. His answer is instant.

“Don’t go,” he slurs out. 

He’s drunk, you remind yourself. Don’t take anything he says at face value.

But even so, you spot the opportunity to tease him. 

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because… you’re one of my only friends.”

You go quiet at that. Nothing could have prepared you for that response. Every witty remark and sarcastic jab you had prepared on the tip of your tongue fizzled out instantly. Even Kaveh, who has no shortage of words when it comes to Alhaitham, falls silent. 

In the year or so that you’ve known Alhaitham for, he’s never been one to get close with people, instead preferring to keep them at arm’s length. Most likely, it’s the alcohol inhibiting his filter, but you can’t ignore the little flutter in your stomach at his words. 

“I guess you are one to me as well, Haitham. I-”

“Say that again.”

His sudden demand makes you pause. Despite his drunken state, there’s a fire in his eyes that briefly makes you question whether he’s sober.

“... I guess you are one-”

He stops you. “No. Not that. Repeat what you said at the very end of it.”

“Haitham?”

“Call me that again.”

“Haitham.”

“Again.”

A smile creeps onto your face now that you’ve finally caught on. How cute. 

“Haitham.”

“Again.”

And secretly inside, you’re happy. Happy that someone considers you a friend for the first time. You no longer feel dehumanized from idolization or isolated from everyone else and you realize it’s what you’ve been secretly wishing for this whole time. 

“Goodnight, Haitham.”

It’s now a common occurrence between you two to drag each other to activities on the weekends. One day, it’s Alhaitham camping out with you late at night to go stargazing. (“(Name), this is boring.” “You can go home if you want. I won’t stop you.” “Hmph.”) Another day, it’s him inviting you to the various coffee shops throughout the city and sampling their beverages. (“The shop we went to last week does a pour-over better.” “You think so too?”)

Another time, you’re heading back to the Akademiya after a day of shopping and playing Genius Invocation (he lost miserably several times in a row to you, much to his embarrassment). It’s been overcast the whole day and the air has been humid but you nervously brushed off the weather’s warning signs.

Something wet lands on your cheek. You blink and look up, then at the ground where raindrops are rapidly dotting the surface. You meet Alhaitham’s gaze, the rising panic in your eyes apparently visible because he pulls you toward the souvenir shop, where you both seek shelter against the escalating downpour. Sheets of rain crash against the ground and the sides of buildings and the gusts of wind make the trees sway violently. 

(You both, like idiots, forgot to bring your umbrellas. In the middle of Sumeru’s rainy season.) 

You can barely see past your two feet but you can make out something moving nearby, and it’s getting closer. Small, gray, and most definitely sopping wet, it’s… a cat?

The small creature pauses and runs as fast as it can toward you. You take your hat off and scoop it up, where it meows pitifully and sneezes. A quick check tells you that the cat is a girl. 

“(Name), what-”

“Look, Haitham,” you whisper as you shrug your jacket off and dry the cat. “Poor baby must have gotten stranded and lost in the rain. She came running to us for help.”

The cat shakes off the last of the rain clinging to her fur and now you can see that she resembles Alhaitham quite a bit with her gray fur and green eyes. You wonder if she has his attitude as well… 

“I wonder if she’s someone’s pet cat that ran away.” 

“She’s probably one of the city’s many strays. I don’t see a collar on her.”

“She’s well-fed for one…” you grumble, noting her plump belly. “So, can we keep her?”

“(Name), you know animals, unless they’re service animals, are not allowed in Akademiya dorms.”

“That hasn’t stopped people though. Someone on my floor snuck their pet cat into the dorms and it’s an open secret among all of us.”

“But still-”

And then you hit him with puppy eyes. The edges of your mouth quiver and turn down, while your eyes soften and go wide. 

“Please?”

His resolve crumbles instantly.

“Fine. But you’re keeping it.”

You sheepishly smile. “About that…”

What now?

“My roommate is a blabbermouth and a stickler for the rules. If I kept her, she would be gone and back on the streets before noon tomorrow.”

“Are you suggesting that I take care of her?”

“Are you against it?”

“Taking care of an animal is a big responsibility, (Name). One that requires time and-”

“I can help you take care of her. With the two of us looking after her, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being optimistic or oversimplifying the problem here.” 

You roll your eyes and Alhaitham looks off to the side.

“I’ll have to ask Kaveh-”

“Kaveh would be over the moon at the prospect of you bringing home a cat. You know how much he loves animals. This cat will be in good hands under his and our care.” 

Looks like he now has no other choice but to say yes. He heaves a deep sigh and looks back up at you.

“Fine. I’ll keep her in my room.” 

Your face lights up.

“But first, we need to give her a name.” 

You scrunch your brows and think for a moment.

“How about Thamina?”

“Thamina,” he repeats. “Meaning valuable or priceless. It fits well.” 

You become a frequent visitor to Kaveh and Alhaitham’s dorm after that. It gets to the point where Alhaitham gives you his copy of the spare key so you could come and go as you please (to which Kaveh gives him a knowing look that he pointedly ignores for his own sake). At first, you primarily visited to take care of Thamina, but at some point, you began visiting primarily for him. 

Study sessions slowly move from the House of Daena to his room, with him at his desk and you sitting on his bed. Thamina bears witness to the heated debates shared between you two in the late hours of the night and the quiet moments of studying. Alhaitham is there to keep her company throughout the day, but she patiently waits for you after a long day of classes. She watches as you two steal each other’s belongings and food (occasionally joining in if she smelled fish in the box you brought home from a late-night dinner). When there is a disagreement between you two, she’s there to help you reconcile in the form of demanding affection and cuddles. 

But when she and Kaveh are fast asleep, only you two are privy to the heavy conversations that happen once and are never brought up again. 

“Tell me more about your family, Haitham.” 

He freezes, then casts a suspicious glance at you over his shoulder.

“Where is this question coming from? And why?”

You shrug.

“I just wanted to know more about the people that raised you to become the person you are today.”

“... My grandmother raised me,” he says after a moment of hesitation. “I admittedly don’t know much about my parents- only that my mother was a renowned Vahumana scholar and my father was a mentor in Haravatat. They both died in an accident, thus leaving me under my grandmother’s care.”

You make yourself comfortable on his bed and nod, urging him to continue. 

“My grandmother was a Kshahrewar scholar. By the time I was born, she had already retired. As such, she had a lot of free time. We did a lot of things together.”

He pauses to recount his fading memories of her. 

“She liked to bake. Her desserts were on the sweeter side, but I have the recipes. I can tweak them so they’re less sweet for you.”

“I’d like that very much.”

“She liked to cook as well. I’d often wake up to the smell of food in the kitchen and she’d be there at the stove. She’d make my favorites and always save most of it or the best parts for me. Unlike with baking, she never used any recipes for her cooking. I’ve tried to imitate her dishes, but it’s never exactly the same as I remember.”

Haitham’s bed is comfy, you note. You pull the covers over yourself, feeling your eyelids grow heavier. 

“Were you a chubby child who was spoiled by grandma?” you tease.

“Yes,” he admits. 

You giggle. “I wish I could have seen you as a kid, chubby cheeks and all.” 

There are baby photos his grandma kept that he now has, but he’ll never tell you that. 

“Like you, she was more of a tea person than a coffee person. She liked hers sweetened while I liked mine more plain. She never knew where she left her reading glasses and she’d always ask me to find them. When I was younger, she’d read a bedtime story to me every night. If there was nothing we were doing, I’d spend the whole day on her lap as she read the books of my choosing aloud to me. One of the last things she told me was that I was so similar to my father, both in nature and appearance. And more than anything else, she was kind.”

“You miss her, don’t you?”

“Yes. I miss her a lot.”

“Your grandma sounds like an amazing person,” you sleepily mumble. “I would have liked to meet her.”

The last thing you hear before finally drifting off is Alhaitham’s whispered response.

“She would have liked to meet you too.”

And the next night, the conversation is equally as heavy.

“Hey, Haitham.”

“What is it?” he whispers back.

“Do you think that.. I don’t know, that I’m not quite who I used to be?”

Alhaitham sets his pen down.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Do you think I’ve changed in more ways than one?”

“Well, you’re less annoying now.”

You give him a well-deserved jab on the bicep with the end of your pen. Much to your annoyance, he doesn’t even flinch and continues. 

“The way I see it, change is inevitable. We all fight and run from it, but it eventually catches up with us. It is neither good nor bad. Rather, it’s what you make of it. But to answer your question, yes. You’ve matured more mentally. You’ve realized there’s more to life now. You’re learning how to live life on your own terms now, aren’t you?’

Your silence tells him everything he needs to know. 

“Tell me, Haitham. What do you wish for?”

Alhaitham is a simple man with few desires. If all his basic needs and simple wants of books and time to himself are met, then he is content. But your question has him thinking. Is there anything else he wants in his life? 

And it turns out the answer is yes. 

“Regardless of how things turn out in the future, I’d like to be able to continue talking to you like this. That’s my wish.”

Kaveh stirs in his sleep. Thamina rolls over and makes biscuits on your lap. A small smile creeps onto your face. You turn away and resume your work. He does the same.

It’s a mundane scene- two Akademiya students pulling another all-nighter to complete their work. And yet… 

Yes, this is what I want, Alhaitham thinks to himself. Everything I could ever want means nothing if you aren’t here. 

The spring semester comes around and with that comes the finals grind. You’ve thrown yourself into your studies in a last-minute attempt to save, in your opinion, your failing grades since you aren’t at the top of your class anymore. (Alhaitham thinks you’re insane- you’re still in the top five.) As if to rub it in your face, you get a letter from your family one day.

We heard that you’re no longer at the top of your class. What happened? 

Your eyes and mind glazed over the rest of the letter until the end.

Study harder. You can end it the same way you did last year if you would spend more time on it. Don’t get distracted now. 

A rare instance of frustration flashes through you and before you know it, you’ve ripped up the letter and tossed it in the trash. 

Who told them that anyway? 

“Lisa… graduated early?”

The news comes to you over dinner one day when you ask where Lisa is upon realizing she’s not there. You’ve just finished all your finals and you want nothing more than to relax and catch up on some sleep, but news regarding your best friend makes you temporarily forget about those plans. 

Cyno nods. “It’s a whole thing now. They’re saying she’s the best student the Akademiya has had in the past 200 years. Once in a generation is what they’re calling her now.”

You bite your lip and look away. A weak “tell her I said congratulations” is all you can get out as envy begins festering deep within you. You’re ashamed of yourself- she’s your best friend, for Archon’s sake, you should be feeling excited for her- but you just can’t.

Why couldn’t it have been me instead? 

You end your second year third in the class, with Alhaitham at the top.

“Welcome home, (Name).”

The house is a little chilly when you step inside. Dinner has already been prepared- it’s sitting on the table- but it looks like it was made some time ago. Your father ushers you into the kitchen, where your mother waits expectantly, her lips stretched into a thin smile when she sees you. 

There are the usual dinnertime conversations- how has your day been? Fine, yours? Same old, same old- but they feel stiffer than usual. It doesn’t flow and you find yourself internally wincing at the heavy silence between you.

“So.”

You pause and look up at your mother, who has finally broken the awkward silence surrounding the kitchen table.

“We heard you… didn’t do so well at the Akademiya this year.” 

You freeze and internally brace yourself for what is to come.

“Only third this year? (Name), you were first last year, how come you couldn’t place first again? That’s not so hard, is it? You just have to put some effort in, stop being so lazy, and you’ll do fine! Besides, it’s only your second year, what could be so difficult about it? We know you’re smart and that you could’ve easily been first again. You’re just getting complacent, that’s all! Do you really want that Alhaitham to beat you at your own game? How humiliating would that be for us? Think of the embarrassment we, your poor mother and father, would face from others in the Akademiya- our golden child (Name), who was once someone people aspired to be, but now nothing but a disappointment!”

“Your mother’s right, (Name),” says your father. “We have high expectations for you, or should I say, had.” 

Their disappointment cuts deep into your soul, yet something quietly snaps inside you. You glare at them one more time before slipping away.

“I’m not hungry anymore. I’ve lost my appetite.”

You go to your childhood room and lock the door behind you. Your parents’ voices- most definitely talking about you- drift up the stairs and you do your best to tune them out. As if to mock you, hanging on the wall across from you are all the awards you won at academic competitions throughout your life. Trophies, ribbons, certificates, and medals line every bit of space available, all of them with your name and a first-place title proudly engraved onto them.

Now that you think about it, were you really happy with being the best? Your younger self would laugh and say “of course!”, but why exactly? 

And then the realization hits you. You personally felt nothing being the best at everything. The title, the fake smiles, and the forced compliments from others- they couldn’t mean less to you.

You were only happy because your parents were happy. Were you ever happy with yourself- with who you were as a person? You don’t know.

Stars live for an incredibly long time, but they too must die out one day. Their reserves of hydrogen gas will inevitably run out and they will either go out with a bang or a fizzle depending on their size. Larger stars go out in a blaze of glory, expanding up to several times their size before exploding and bathing the universe in the remains of their supernova for eons to come, while smaller ones condense from the gravity pushing inward and shrink down into a cold white dwarf, destined to drift across the universe alone for the rest of time. That is your fate, yet you do not know it yet. The last of your fuel has finally been spent, and the end is nigh. Whether you will go out with a bang or fade into obscurity is something only time will tell. 

You’ve had enough of the stifling atmosphere in the house.

It’s only been a few days since summer vacation began and you’re already at your wit’s end. The heavy silence hanging in the air and their passive-aggressive comments toward you make you want to tear your hair out. Or run away. Maybe both. 

There are still lots of days left before you start class again. Surely there’s something you can do until then…

And then it hits you: traveling throughout Sumeru! You were born and raised in the city, but you’ve rarely ventured outside of its borders. This could be a good chance to expand your horizons and gain experience!

So without further ado, you pack your bags, plan a route, and begin your adventures. Most of the time, you’d leave at dawn before your parents woke up and return late at night after they’d fallen asleep. Sometimes, you wouldn’t return for days, instead choosing to camp outside or stay at a friend’s house for a while. From what you’ve heard through your neighbors and friends, your parents don’t seem to care what you’re doing either. Some of your friends even say that they look happier now that you’re out of the house. The notion stings, but you don’t dwell on it for too long.

There’s a strange sense of peace you feel throughout your travels that’s foreign to you. Whether it’s camping out underneath the stars or scaling a rocky cliffside, you’ve never felt more attuned to yourself than now. You gradually discover more about yourself that you otherwise would have never known. You like stargazing even more after seeing the expanse of the night sky and all its stars for the first time without the light pollution of the city. You like to swim, as demonstrated when you dove headfirst into a river for the first time and felt the cool waters wash over your skin. You’re decently skilled with a bow and arrow after Tighnari gives you some lessons and his old bow to keep yourself safe on your travels.

Most importantly, you discover how to find happiness by yourself. After being told your whole life what you could and couldn’t do, being able to take control of your life was a liberating feeling. 

You end up seeing Alhaitham quite a bit during this time. Strangely enough, he was always one of the first people you’d see returning back to Sumeru City. He’d always give you a subtle nod when he noticed you staring at him before leaving. Sometimes, he’d even be there to wish you a safe trip- no, not sometimes- almost all of the time. It’s basically a given that he’ll be there to see you off at this point. How he hears about it every time, you have no idea but you aren’t complaining. 

“Leaving early as always, I see. Where to this time, (Name)?”

You pause from checking your supplies to see Alhaitham standing behind you.

“I’m heading down to Gandharva Ville to spend some time in the rainforest. But you’re up this early just to wish me a safe trip? I didn’t take you for a morning person.”

“I’m not. But someone should see you off each time, and if your parents won’t do it, then I will.”

“Y-You… how did you know?”

“Know what?” he asks while stepping around to help you with your bag. “All I know is that I’ve never seen them send you off or welcome you back.”

“So be it then,” you grumble. “It’s not as if I care.”

So he doesn’t know about our strained relationship yet, you muse to yourself. That’s surprising, considering how big mother and father’s social circle is… 

“You’re all set now. Best you head off before it gets too hot.”

“I will. You take care as well.”

He watches you leave through the city gates until you’re no longer in sight. A rare expression of longing crosses his face then and only after lingering for a few more moments (with his eyes trained on where you once were) does he leave. 

He was lying when he pretended to be unaware of your family situation. When you’re hailed as one of the best scholars in recent times in a land that has a borderline fanatical dedication to academics, everything pertaining to you will be scrutinized and monitored. Your sudden decision to leave Sumeru for extended periods of time, and the way your parents refused to talk about you or changed the topic whenever you came up… it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. 

For your sake, Alhaitham hopes you would return later rather than sooner so you wouldn’t have to hear what was being said about you. 

“You seem to have gotten good at this,” he remarks over coffee and desserts when you return several weeks later. Alhaitham notices you’ve put on some muscle. There are some new scars and the bow slung on your back is an unfamiliar sight as well. “You would be a perfect candidate for the Adventurer’s Guild.” 

You laugh. “Nah, it’s not for me. As much as I enjoy traveling, I don’t think I could earn my living through it, plus I won’t be able to keep it up once I’m all old and wrinkly.”

“Tell me about your adventures though. Where did you go?”

Your eyes light up and you begin rambling excitedly about your travels. You go into great detail about your time spent in the Avidya Forest and your spontaneous decision to travel to Liyue, which catches him off-guard.

“Liyue?” he repeats when you mention it. “So that’s why you were gone for several weeks instead of days. I’ve never been there before. Tell me, what was it like?”

Your smile grows even bigger and your eyes may as well have been stars from how brightly they were shining.

“Oh, you should’ve seen the architecture- actually, wait, I should be telling Kaveh this- but it was so pretty! The food was super good too and a friend I made shared some of her recipes with me. I have a feeling that you’ll like them so I can teach you some other time! Ooh, and you can’t miss the scenery for the world! Personally, my favorite was…”

You’re so caught up in reliving and telling your adventures that you fail to miss the fond look in his eyes and the rare hint of a smile that stretches across his face. 

You’re halfway through recounting your way back home through the Chasm when you happen to glance at the clock and the realization begins to set in.

“I have to get going now,” you explain as you hurriedly gather your belongings. “I’m meeting up with some other friends in a bit. But thanks for the coffee and sweets. Hopefully, I’ll see you around again sometime soon?”

The chime above the door jingles as you rush outside and Alhaitham is left alone with his thoughts. With a deep sigh, he takes a look out the window and decides to address the thoughts about you that have been on his mind lately. 

You’re annoying, there’s no doubt about that. You love to push his buttons and purposefully irritate him. You’re an overachiever and you care too much about what other people think. For the longest time, your whole personality consisted of your academic accomplishments and nothing else. You’re a people pleaser and you long for acceptance and praise from others- two things he thinks are utterly useless coming from other people. The moment someone questions your abilities, regardless of who it is, you begin to second-guess yourself and waver. Ridiculous, in his opinion. You know your worth and skills better than anyone else, so why are you letting their baseless accusations affect you? You’re easily affected by rumors and your self-worth is determined by what others think of you. 

But you have a warm and welcoming demeanor that’s rare in the cutthroat halls of the Akademiya that draws others to you like a moth to a flame. You enjoy traveling and you have a major soft spot for animals, especially cats. Whenever you’re in the city, you always stop to pet all the strays roaming around, no matter how long it takes. You enjoy sweets- not the overly cloying kind, but the ones that have a touch of sweetness to the point where you can just taste it. Your favorite dessert is the Padisarah Pudding sold in the Grand Bazaar and he’s stopped by so often that the vendor knows his name, face, and order by now. You’re more of a tea person than a coffee person, but he has your coffee order memorized just in case (iced, with two sugars, a splash of milk, and rosewater) and he’s the one that has been mysteriously supplying your favorite tea whenever it’s running low. He notices you like to ramble about things you’re passionate about (and he willingly- gladly- listens too). 

And he’s come to realize that maybe you’re not as insufferable as he thought you were. You have a brilliant mind and you’re one of the few that isn’t put off by his blunt nature. You don’t just tolerate him- you appreciate him, flaws and everything. 

You’ve always been envious of him- he’s known that ever since he met you. Because of him, you have strived to prove yourself as better in all aspects. A stupid rivalry is what it started off as with your pride getting the best of both of you. But throughout these three years, you’ve only brought out the best in each other.

At this point, he doesn’t feel complete without you. 

He’s well aware of the question hanging over people’s minds whenever they see the both of you together. You are the sun, the golden child of your parents who are renowned within the Akademiya and held to the highest level of scrutiny. Their judging gazes, eyes that fixate on every move of yours, comments whispered behind your back- you take them all in stride. Meanwhile, Alhaitham’s presence is glossed over when you’re there. To many, he is just another Akademiya student that they will see in passing and forget about immediately. In that aspect, he is the moon that hides from others. Those who were acquainted with his parents or his late grandmother may recognize him and speak with him, but he mostly goes unnoticed and ignored. 

But free from the prying eyes of others, Alhaitham is able to sleep peacefully at night. Your fitful sleep, on the other hand, is plagued with dreams of what-ifs and the looming fear of disappointment from others. You’ve always succeeded, not because you craved success, but because you feared failure and how others would react.

The rising moon admires the sun because of the boundless love they receive from others. On the other hand, the setting sun is envious of the moon for his sweetest dreams that they can only long for.

You enter your third year with a sense of apprehension that wasn’t there before. Your high hopes for yourself are still there, but they’ve been dashed considerably. But despite your lack of ambition now and your experiences from last year, you still (attempt to) throw yourself into your studies, knowing that this year is where the challenge begins. Your first two years were just warmups, or nothing, according to your parents. 

Your first few weeks go well, but before you know it, you find yourself lost and overwhelmed by the material.

I… don’t understand any of this. But how could this be? I’ve spent so much time. 

Your test scores don’t reflect your efforts either.

45%. 50%. 63% 67%. 55%. 38%.

“Damn it!”

You slam your fist onto your desk table as the results of another failed test greet you. You had spent so much time preparing for this one, only for your efforts to be rewarded with a slap to the face. 

You can’t keep going like this. You need help, and desperately at that, but you can’t bring yourself to ask for it. 

You’re smarter than everyone else, you don’t need help, a familiar voice comes into your mind. You’re the pride and joy of our family because of your grades. Don’t let us down now. 

You look out the window, the heat still simmering in your stomach.

“What a load of bullshit.” 

“... I saw your test scores earlier today.” 

You glare at Alhaitham with poison in your gaze that was never there until now. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he feels strangely uneasy, like his body is warning him to stop. 

“And? Here to mock me for it?”

“No. On the contrary, I want to offer you my help.” 

Oh, the humiliation. Look at how far you’ve fallen. 

“Forget it,” you snap. “I don’t need your help.”

You get up and leave, slamming the doors shut behind you. It echoes through the House of Daena and the other students there turn to stare at Alhaitham in silent shock. He’s stunned too. Although you can have quite the sharp tongue at times, you’ve never lashed out at him like that before. 

A few weeks later, the results of another test are announced. Alhaitham’s name sits at the top like it always has. His name is on everyone’s tongue as they jealously grumble over the results once again. His eyes examine the list, searching for one name in particular, until he finds yours at the bottom of it.

He pauses, then turns around in time to see you storming out. He doesn’t miss the looks your classmates give you- mocking, ridiculing, scornful, and disgusted sneers that relish in your downfall. The jealous grumbles about him now turn into titters and sneering whispers with your name now being trampled upon by those that used to extol your virtues. It’s all noise and it grates his ears until he can’t stand it anymore.

“What a waste of time.”

The noise stops and everyone turns to look at him. 

“You all have the energy to complain about your own scores while making a laughing stock of someone else. It’d be better spent on improving your own scores- unless you’re just that incompetent?”

Later that night as you’re studying, you get a message from your parents through your Akasha. It’s the first time you’ve gotten anything from them all year. After hesitating, you open the message.

It’s short and simple but your heart sinks and your temper flares after reading it. You rip your Akasha Terminal off and toss it to the side. 

Don’t come home this year. 

“I need your help. I’m asking for a friend.”

Alhaitham looks over his book at you. It’s the first time he’s seen you all week and to be frank, you look awful. Your hair is a mess, your uniform is wrinkled, and your skin looks dry and dull.

“Do I know them? If not, then I won’t help.”

You roll your eyes and throw your hands up exasperatedly.  “Ok fine, yes, you know them.”

“Well, why won’t they just ask me themselves? Why trouble you?”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter right now. Just answer the damn question.”

He leans back and knowingly looks at you. 

“They’re going through a tough time right now,” you explain, choosing each of your words carefully. “They aren’t doing good in their classes and they’re trying to get back on track, but they don’t know how to.”

“... This is for you, isn’t it?”

Damn, he saw right through you. Were you that obvious?

Alhaitham goes back to reading his book. “I can’t say I would be of any use here. After all, I’ve never been in that position nor would I let myself get there.” 

You feel your temper flare once more. You clench your jaw and try to reign in your anger before speaking to him. 

“Well, duh. You’re also not helping either.”

“Really? I think it’s a perfectly reasonable answer.”

“Put yourself in my shoes for once, would you?”

He sets his book down and looks at you.

“You asked me for my advice and I told you what I would do in that situation. I don’t understand why you’re getting upset.”

“That’s because it’s not the answer I’m looking for!”

“That’s on you for expecting others to somehow know what you want without telling them.”

“You-!”

You groan and run your hands through your hair.  Is it just you or is he being more insufferable today? Can’t he read the room for once? 

He continues. “If you wanted someone to only tell you what you wanted to hear, a mirror would be a better audience.”

“Alhaitham, all I’m asking from you is a little empathy. Is that so hard to have?”

“And is it so hard for you to stop throwing a hissy fit just because I didn’t tell you what you wanted to hear?”

His words are all spite and knives meant to hurt. They lack the usual lighthearted tone he has with you. You feel it coming- the barbed words that are poised to strike and cut deep, but it doesn’t help when he begins speaking again. 

 “You asked for my help and I gave you advice. You’re not in a position to be complaining here.” 

“Yeah, well, your ‘advice’ isn’t what most people would consider as help.”

He scoffs and looks away before looking at you once more- like he’s looking down on you, you realize. There’s something akin to disgust and impatience in his gaze that makes you freeze despite all your sharp words earlier. 

“How irrational could you be? You reject everyone’s help even though you need it and you don’t listen to anybody’s suggestions. You’re too caught up in the conception that you’re always right and everyone else is always wrong. You’re childish, (Name), that’s what you are. You’re like a child still naive and ignorant, content with playing with their toys and games and ignoring reality. You’re not cut out for the Akademiya. You never were.”

He laughs and now you realize just how much it hurts when it’s directed toward you. 

“And you’re telling me that my ego is overinflated. No wonder you’re failing everything. Archons, (Name), you’re utterly hopeless. What did I ever see in you?”

The silence that fills the space afterward is enough to make Alhaitham immediately regret his words. You angrily glare at him and Alhaitham’s heart sinks when he recognizes the emotion present in your eyes.

Utter hate.

“... For all these years, I've heard so many rumors about you but chose to brush them off,” you begin. “I was so stupid! I should have listened to them! They say you’re cold and heartless and only now do I realize that they were right. They say you’re not human from how cruel you are- archons, dammit! Look at me!”

The sudden demand makes Alhaitham nervously glance toward you after avoiding your gaze this entire time. You sniff and wipe away the few tears that managed to spill over. Losing your composure in front of him, the perfect and poised genius, was already humiliating enough, but you hold his gaze long enough to let him see. Let him witness the results of his own actions and the prospect of losing someone he cared about (all over again).

“You’re an absolutely horrible person, Alhaitham. I hope you remember this.”

Alhaitham. It’s the first time you’ve used his full name ever since you befriended him and the implications of it sting. 

He reaches out toward you. “Wait-”

You slap his hand away. 

“No, we’re done here. I thought you could at least understand, but you’re just as uncaring and self-centered as everyone else here. And I once thought that you were better than anyone else here, but only now do I realize how stupid I was."

You laugh sardonically one last time.

“My parents were right. They would have been so much happier if you were their child.”

Alhaitham doesn’t see you again for several weeks after that. It’s as if you’re purposefully avoiding him and it gets to a point where he’s beginning to get concerned about your health and safety. 

Currently, he’s meeting with Tighnari. Out of everyone, the fox hybrid had the highest chance of knowing with his keen sense of hearing.

“I’m concerned about (Name).”

Tighnari’s ears twitch in response. 

“They aren’t the same person anymore. You’ve seen it too.”

The fox hybrid sadly nods. “They’ve been consumed by rage and self-hate. I see it in their eyes and the way they lash out. They’re angry at themselves and at everyone around them and it’s completely understandable considering the situation and the response of those they trusted most. Still, it’s not healthy if they continue like this. Speaking of which, were they always this temperamental?”

Alhaitham shakes his head. “No. To be clear, they’ve always had a sharp tongue but it was always lighthearted. They only started getting truly angry this year.”

“Lashing out or displaying signs of anger is often a common symptom of burnout. I’m fairly confident that’s what (Name) has. Specifically, academic burnout. But I’m sure you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Alhaitham uncomfortably avoids Tighnari’s prying eyes. 

Tighnari’s eyes narrow. “Look, (Name) is a great friend to me as well, but why are you telling me about this? You’re in their Darshan so shouldn’t you know more?”

“I haven’t heard anything about them either. I got concerned after they didn’t show up at the library for a week. From what I’ve heard, they haven’t been showing up to class either for the past few weeks, which is strange for them. I’m asking around- maybe I’ll find something out that way.”

Tighnari shakes his head. “Sadly, I don’t know why either. If it helps, some people have said they haven’t even seen them. Not just at the library or at class but in general. It’s almost as if they’ve just… disappeared.”

There’s a moment of silence that passes between them. Tighnari stares at Alhaitham curiously and he rests his chin on his hands.

Alhaitham doesn’t have a good feeling about this…

“Speaking of which, does the fight from earlier have anything to do with this?”

“You knew?”

“Please. When two of my closest friends get into an argument as big as that, I’m bound to find out eventually. So, did it have anything to do with this?”

“... Yes,” he admits. “I feel guilty and I want to apologize to them.” 

“Well, better late than never,” grumbles Tighnari under his breath. The stink eye he sends his way doesn’t go unnoticed by Alhaitham. 

“Why do you care for them so much?”

The question comes out of nowhere and leaves him reeling. 

“I suppose it’s… because I consider them a friend?”

Archons, that answer sounds even more pathetic out loud than it did in his head and Tighnari knows it. 

Tighnari heaves a long sigh that makes Alhaitham pause.

“You absolute lummox!” he snaps. “I always knew you were somewhat emotionally constipated but I didn’t think you’d be this dense…”

He suddenly stands up and stares the ashen-haired male in the eye, his tone softer this time. 

“You’re in love with them, Alhaitham. That’s what you’ve been feeling lately.”

Alhaitham immediately scoffs. “No, that can’t possibly be-”

“You, who hates sharing what you consider yours, share your notes with them.”

“It’s a win-win situation for both of us. We’re in the same Darshan and we’ll be able to learn better from each other.”

“But them, specifically, when there are countless others that would kill for the chance to learn from you?”

“They can figure the material out themselves. Plus, I stand to gain no benefit from what they have to offer.”

“What, so only (Name) can keep up with you?”

“Precisely.” 

Tighnari sees the opening Alhaitham has created and takes advantage of it.

“Are you sure that you’re still rivals? Even though (Name) is…”

“Of course. It’s been like that since day one.”

“Huh, that’s interesting. Because from what I know, academic rivals don’t go out to lunch together. They don’t go stargazing even though a certain someone finds it mind-numbingly boring. They don’t sneak out past curfew and break Akademiya rules on a daily basis, and they certainly don’t spend hefty chunks of Mora to make the other happy.” 

Tighnari has Alhaitham backed into a corner and he knows it. 

“Kaveh knows as well.”

“And?”

“And you still let yourself get roped into his schemes to make them happy. Look, I know this isn’t a good time to bring him up considering…”

He gestures at the empty space, a silent indication of Kaveh and Alhaitham’s broken friendship. 

“But there’s no denying that Kaveh did and still does care about you. Why else would he be willing to put in so much time and effort to make them happy? Because in addition to being their friend, he knows that when they’re happy, you are as well. And if that doesn’t mean something, then, I don’t know what else does.”

“We’re just friends,” he argues once again. Tighnari glares at him.

“You’re an idiot to think it doesn’t go deeper than that. You also saw them off every single time during the summer.”

“That’s what friends do. Besides, their parents should have-”

“Uh-huh. Go on, keep lying to yourself like that. Do I have to hit you over the head with a brick in order for you to realize your own feelings? You’re sounding like a broken record here.” 

“I-”

“There’s no use in denying or lying to us, Alhaitham. We’re your friends, after all. But the one who’s going to have to decide what to do next is you.”

He gets up and gives Alhaitham a pat on the shoulder. Before leaving, he looks at him one last time.

“It’s going to hurt even more when you lose them for good. You’ll only wish you could have done something sooner. But I think you already know that by now, right, Alhaitham?”

“Do you know where (Name) is?”

It’s a rare occasion today- Alhaitham actually showed up for class. But it wasn’t to listen to whatever the professor had to say- no, it was to ask your classmates where you went. He’s been trying every day to find you, but only to no avail. 

He’s gained some valuable information, however. Your roommate moved out a while ago, leaving you the sole occupant of your dorm room. He also managed to find your dorm room number after asking some of your “friends”, who after relentless prying, reluctantly opened up. 

“I can’t say for sure, but I heard they’re in the hospital. They somehow ended up there over the weekend.” 

“The hospital?” he repeats. “Do you know why?”

“No idea. Sorry.”

He shows up at the Birmarstan after the class ends, fully expecting to see you. He gives the nurse his name and a few minutes later, she returns with an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry, but the patient is not accepting visitors at this time.”

A slight pause. Barely perceptible.

“I see.”

You look at the window to see Alhaitham’s retreating form. The nurse enters your room a few minutes later and crosses her arms.

“He’s the first person who’s asked to visit you ever since you came in. I’m surprised- I thought you’d get more. Most people usually do.”

You pull the covers over your head and roll over. Such is the way of life in the Akademiya. Friendships were formed out of convenience as a way to climb up the ladder later in life. As soon as you were no longer useful or fell from grace like you did, others were quick to abandon you without a second thought. 

So why did Alhaitham visit then? To you, your relationship (as enemies? Friends? Or even…) was built solely on how you could assist each other, and nothing more. By your prior logic, there is no logical reason why he should visit you.

Unless… 

“Is there any reason why you didn’t want to see him in particular?”

Even if your hypothesis proved to be true, it doesn’t excuse or undo the hurt he caused.

“He’s the last person I want to see right now.”

A few days after being discharged from Birmarstan, there’s a knock from the door that wakes you up from your sleep. Still disoriented, you look up and roll over, opting to ignore it and go back to sleep.

The knocking continues. You cover your ear with a pillow and squeeze your eyes shut even more.

“I know you’re there, (Name). Several people told me so.”

Shit, it’s the last person you want to see right now. Your mood sours instantly and now you’re fully awake. 

“What do you want?” you snap. 

“I just want to talk.”

It doesn’t seem like he’ll be going away anytime soon, so you get up, kicking the trash that litters the floor to the side, and carefully cracking open the door. He looks down to see you. You pull the sleeves of your shirt down as he does so. 

“Can I come in?”

You look behind at the mess that is your dorm.

“... It’s not exactly clean right now.”

“That doesn’t matter to me.”

You flick the lights on and hide the worst of the trash underneath your bed. He follows you, his gaze traveling around the room. He notices the side with the unoccupied bed is considerably cleaner (that must have been your roommate’s before they moved out, he reasons) and your desk looks like it hasn’t been used in a while. He takes a seat at it and examines the table. Your Akasha Terminal is lying in the corner and collecting dust. Your textbook is open to a section that was taught a while ago and it looks like you just started taking notes. 

(Although, the frustrated scribbles that occupy most of the page have him concerned. Additionally, certain parts of the paper are wrinkled, as if they have dried after getting wet. The shape and spot where they are concentrated in is another cause for concern as well. Were you… crying?)

You pull the covers over your form and glare at him. 

“Well? What did you want to tell me?”

“I’m sorry.”

You pause, then shake your head.

“That alone won’t be enough.”

“I know. And that’s why-”

He gulps, his voice shaking toward the end. It’s just a simple apology, so why is he so nervous?

(But deep down he knows the real answer: this is his last chance to ask you for forgiveness before losing you for good. And it was the thought of losing you, the one that had managed to worm their way into his heart and appreciate him that scared him the most.) 

“I’m sorry. I really am. I shouldn’t have said those things back then. I should have been more understanding of your struggles and, like you said, had some more empathy. I realize that I am far from an ideal friend in many people’s eyes and if you feel the same, I will not hold that against you.”

His chest tightens and he subconsciously looks away.

“I’m aware of how people see me- valuing logic above all with a mind fueled by equations and facts over feelings. A genius with no regard or need for others. But I’m still human. I feel regret and remorse the same way as anyone else. I know when I’ve messed up and when I need to apologize. Now is one of those times, more than ever.” 

You turn around and open the blinds, letting the light flood the room before sitting back down, watching him carefully. 

“I don’t want to forgive you. Do you have any idea how long your words lingered for?”

The words sting Alhaitham. Your voice shakes and you feel the familiar burning sensation in your eyes. 

“But I know you. I know your bluntness and sharp tongue. You often say hurtful things but don’t mean them. You’re stubborn and slow when it comes to apologizing, even if the guilt eats away at you. You don’t wear your heart on your sleeve and you’re not one to dish out praises, leading others to believe that you’re cold and unsympathetic.”

You suddenly lean in, staring into the eyes that had kept you awake at night for so long. His eyes widen slightly and you smile faintly to yourself. 

“But I like to think that I’ve gotten to know you a bit. You show that you care with your actions, not your words, but that takes time- time that most people aren’t willing to give because of their first impression of you. You take the time to learn about the people you care about and prefer acts of service to words of affirmation and physical touch as your love language. You show that you care in a way of your own.

“So yes. I forgive you.”

Alhaitham finds himself sighing with relief. Yet a question still lingers in the back of his mind.

“Why?”

And there it is again, for the first time in a long time. Your smile. It’s a little stiff and awkward, as if you haven’t smiled in a long time, but it’s undoubtedly yours. 

“The same reason. I missed you too.” 

And now begins the uncomfortable process of recovery. 

“How long were you gone for?”

“... Longer than I’d like to admit. Catching up is going to be a difficult task, isn’t it?”

“I won’t sugarcoat it; you’ve missed a lot.” Alhaitham flips through your books and notes from prior years. “However, you have a strong foundation from your earlier years. That should help you. But first, let me ask you a few questions so I can outline a study plan for you.”

You raise your eyebrows at his statement.

“You’re taking this quite seriously, aren’t you?”

“Naturally,” he replies. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Knowing you, you’re not the kind of person to go out of your way for others,” you grumble. “So going to such lengths just for me…” 

“You discredit me if you think that I would do that. But why do you think you felt burnt-out in the first place?”

You look out the window and think for a bit.

“... I think it’s because of my own pride. Had I asked for help earlier on, I have a feeling I wouldn’t be in this position, or things would be better, at least,” you admit. 

“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

You sigh and hold your hands out in defeat. “You surely know more than you’re letting on. But I think it’s also because I never learned how to study.”

Alhaitham pauses at that. “Really?”

There’s no mockery or derision in his question- just curiosity. 

“People goaded me on as a gifted child and I was expected to somehow know how to do everything perfectly the first time, you know? It’s just how things were.”

“Well, that’s something we can fix for sure.”

Your first few days back are the worst. Whispers and stares follow you wherever you go and your professors, who once showered you with praises, look at you strangely or even ignore you. 

“Don’t mind them,” he says when he notices you sulking in the library later that day. “You and I both know that’s just the way the Akademiya is. We’ll see who gets the last laugh.” 

Much to the envy of your classmates, he also personally tutors you in all your classes. He accompanies you to all your classes (even the ones he isn’t taking) and sits in on them, whispering and writing little notes of clarification and elaboration. 

Bit by bit, you see your scores slowly improve. Alhaitham teaches you an array of study techniques, many of which have been personally vetted by him.

“Try each of them out,” he says. “Different techniques work for different people. There is something out there that works for you.”

He’s able to bear witness to the fruits of your labor one day when he hears your excited footsteps running toward him.

“Haitham, look!”

You practically shove several papers into his face. “I got a perfect score on the latest exam! And guess what? I tied with you, meaning that I also placed first!”

A rare smile, solely reserved for your eyes, creeps onto his face. 

“Good job. Your score is well-deserved after all the hard work you’ve been putting in.”

He sees it now. Slowly but surely, you’re regaining bits and pieces of your old self. You’ll never be exactly who you once were, but that’s ok. You’ll pick the broken yet salvageable parts up and put them together to create something new yet still distinctly you.

He only looks forward to seeing what you’ll become in the future. 

You’ve finally graduated.

It’s a joyous occasion today, filled with speeches, hugs, and promises to keep in touch. Families and friends crowd outside the Akademiya to congratulate their loved ones. The diploma in your hands and the cords around your shoulders are a sign of your achievements and your persistence despite all the roadblocks you faced along the way. 

Your heart feels simultaneously burdened and relieved. You had graduated squarely in the middle of the class. You knew it was something to be proud of, yet that part of your former self that you could never suppress couldn’t help but feel disappointed. 

Not that it really bothered you anyway. When you walked across the stage to the smattering of applause accompanying your name, you had immediately locked eyes with Alhaitham in the crowd. He was clapping, but what caught your attention the most was the smile he sent your way. It wasn’t one of his once in a blue moon microscopic ones.

No. It was one where you could see a sliver of his teeth and where the edges of his eyes crinkled from it, the sight of which sent your heart ablaze. There was pride in his gaze and in that moment, you felt as if everything had been worth it- even if it wasn’t the outcome you expected. 

And when he walked across the stage, you were the one to clap for him the loudest. 

You push your way through the heavy crowds, searching for one person in particular. He’s not anywhere in the crowd, so you head down the walkway and there you see him. He’s waiting for you with a large bouquet of flowers in his arms.

“Took you long enough,” he remarks. Alhaitham holds out the flowers to you and you accept them gratefully. 

“Oh, you remembered my favorite flowers!” you exclaim as you examine the bouquet. “I have something for you as well.”

You hand him an envelope and he eyes it curiously when a voice interrupts you. 

“(Name).”

You hear an awkward cough behind you and you turn to see your parents. They stand there awkwardly, fidgeting with their hastily-purchased bouquet of flowers that pales in comparison to what Alhaitham got you. 

(You don’t even like the kind of flowers your parents got for you and you’ve told them that before…) 

“Congratulations on gradu-”

“Oh, you must be Alhaitham!”

Your mother’s sudden remark takes all of you by surprise. She rushes forward and eagerly shakes his hand.

“I’ve heard so much about you! You just graduated and you’ve already made a name for yourself in Sumeru as a genius! How incredible is that? Ah, if only my child here could learn from you, but they’ve already graduated, so it’s a little too late for that now…”

You bite your lip and look away. The action doesn’t go unnoticed by Alhaitham. He retracts his hand. 

“It was nice to meet you. We’ll be taking our leave now.”

“We’ll?” 

Alhaitham ignores them in favor of holding your hand and leading you away.

“I think a celebration is in order. The owner of the stall that sells your favorite Padisarah Pudding is offering us free dessert today.” 

The heaviness that was hanging over you just a moment ago is now gone.

“Free desserts? I’m in!”

“Then it’s settled.” 

Later that night, Alhaitham remembers the letter you gave him earlier and pulls it out. He glances at the clock. There’s still time before he has to leave and meet up with you.

Dear Alhaitham,

Thank you for being by my side throughout these four years when no one else was. I owe my entire academic career to you. Perhaps even my entire life. I don’t know if I’d be writing this letter if it weren’t for you. 

When I saw you on the first day, I wondered what you were doing here. You were short, scrawny, and shy back then. I thought you were one of those child prodigies. Who knew you’d turn out to be the buff man skilled with the sword that I know today… 

Honestly, I didn’t think that you would help me. You were the envy of our class, unlike me. I wouldn’t be surprised and I wouldn’t blame you if all that praise got to your head. I guess I didn’t know you well enough back then, though, because you defied all of my expectations. Not only did you not care for status or fame, you also took time out of your own day (which I know you hate doing) for me. 

You really are an enigma, Haitham. You’re a person with several layers and hidden secrets like an intricately-designed mechanism. But I think that’s one of the reasons that drew me to you. Everyone has their own secrets and burdens. By slowly learning more about each other, you learn more about yourself. 

You and I, we are inseparable now. Earlier today, I had someone come up to me and ask where you were. They were surprised that you weren’t next to me like always. At first glance, we seem more different than similar, especially with our contrasting personalities. But take a closer look and they’ll see that we share more in common than in differences. Opposites attract, but similarities bind. 

Like those dusty old philosophers and figures that we had to learn about in class, we are parallels of each other. You are simultaneously my biggest critic and supporter. My biggest rival and confidant. My biggest headache and source of comfort. 

But most importantly, you are my biggest friend. 

Remember that one night where I asked you what you wished for? You had said that you wanted to keep talking to me regardless of how things turned out in the future. I didn’t really have a response at the time, but now I finally do.

My wish is selfish. I wish for you to stay the way you are. A little arrogant, blunt, curious, and caring in your own way. Because I can’t imagine a future without you in it now. 

With all my love,

(Name)

The house is too quiet for Alhaitham’s liking. He appreciates silence when working and Kaveh’s incessant noise from working on projects at midnight is downright irritating, but there is a time and place for everything.

Now is not that time. Thamina is sleeping on the cushion next to him. Kaveh is out in a meeting with a client (for once) and you’re-

“I’m home!”

Speak of the devil, there you are. Thamina’s eyes open and she jumps off the cushion to greet you with a loud meow and a head rub against your legs. Alhaitham takes his headphones off and sets his book down before getting up to greet you after a long journey back from Mondstadt. You’re tired, your uniform is wrinkled, and your Kamera has been hastily shoved back into its case, but Alhaitham has never been more grateful to see you. 

“Missed me?”

“You’ve been gone for too long,” he grumbles before pulling you into a tight hug and burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Love, it was only for a month!”

“My point still stands.”

You scrunch your face up and eventually manage to wiggle your way out of his grasp. It’s been a few years since you’ve graduated. Alhaitham has dutifully taken on the responsibilities of the Akademiya’s Scribe while you now work as a reporter for a newspaper company. You love the job because it puts your Haravatat degree to good use and you get paid to travel, although you don’t like the part of being away from Alhaitham for extended periods of time.

“Are you still up for dinner and dessert even though it’s getting late?”

“At my favorite place?”

“Our favorite place,” he corrects.

“Oh, you like it now as well? Did some of my tastes rub off onto you?”

“The pudding runs I went on for you did that a long time ago.”

Comets are ephemeral in nature. Some of them are only seen once and then gone, lost in time and never to be seen again. But occasionally, in a twist of fate, they can be rediscovered although it may take hundreds or even thousands of years for them to return.

That comet he had wished upon several years ago had finally returned to him.

[motomamita]

farmer!könig × female!reader

warnings: +18, smut, arranged marriage, breeding kink!

könig never thought that the love of his life would take so long to arrive, much less in such a small town where he lived and where everyone knew everyone. but yes, he just turned 30 he found himself totally alone, without a wife, girlfriend or even someone to fuck with without commitments.

being an only child, his parents rushed to find the right woman for him. they had to ensure that their legacy would continue and their lands would be passed down to their future grandchildren.

that's where you come in, also the only daughter of a couple of lumberjacks and with a long list of suitors. although you could choose any boy in the town, your parents quickly paired you with könig, who was the son of the wealthiest family in the place.

you didn't know könig personally but you had seen him from time to time on the streets driving his truck carrying fruits and vegetables to supply the businesses. you knew that he was older than you, not only in age but also in body. he always had a serious face and a look that forced you to lower your head because of how intimidating he was.

your families introduced you one day where they had lunch and talked about how beneficial it would be for both of you to get married. könig didn't contribute much, as he spent all that time looking at your breasts through your dress and biting his lip every time you dared to look into his eyes. neither you nor he spoke to each other.

after that, they organized a small wedding in the garden of könig's family and formalized the union between the two of you. you were now his wife and lived with him in a small house built by könig on his family land. however, the most important thing was missing, an heir.

you both knew that your families would not be calm until they saw you carrying his baby in your womb. that's why you and könig had to get closer to each other, both emotionally and physically. every time he came back from a long day of work, you would wait for him with a jug of fresh orange juice or even a beer. then you would prepare the shower for him, where könig would end up dragging you with him and you would shower together. he caressed your skin with excitement and you did the same but with a certain shyness. however, it never went any further, until now.

one afternoon you were harvesting vegetables from the garden until the presence of könig behind you caught your attention.

"it's time... for us to have a son."

könig was wearing his work shirt with a few buttons open and his blue jeans. he looked agitated, as if he needed you at that moment.

"könig... i, i don't know. i've never done it and i'm a little scared..."

you couldn't finish because könig knelt in front of you and grabbed your hips with his hands.

"please, please, let me fuck you. i can't wait any longer, my love, i need you.."

he begged with some pain in his voice, resting his head on your stomach and almost sobbing. his cock was throbbing inside his jeans and dripping with precum. your heart sank at seeing him so needy, so you accepted.

without wasting time, könig fucked you right there in his garden and on the ground, in a primitive way. your pussy took a while to get used to its size but soon the pain turned into pleasure. könig was on top of you, with your legs over his shoulders and his balls hitting your delicate skin.

"i knew this pussy was worth the wait... fuck, you're so tight."

könig kissed your legs, leaving a trace of his saliva and even lightly biting your skin, lost in pleasure. his grunts accompanied your moans and pleas for him to finish inside you as soon as possible, you were afraid that you would be discovered.

"these juicy tits, they're going to look even better when they're big and dripping with milk... are you going to carry my babies, huh? are you going to be a good mom?"

you nodded your head because your mouth couldn't let out anything but moans. könig increased his thrusts, fucking deep inside you until he filled you with his thick semen.

he gently lay down on top of you, careful not to crush you until his orgasm passed. he carefully pulled out of you, caressing your legs and putting the cum that came out back in with his fingers.

"i have to make sure it catch, mommy."

[threepistols]

what do they put in queer wedding scenes that makes me sob every time

[acid-ixx]

Planned Fanfics !

ft. platonic/ yandere batfam, superfam, villains, au's & many more!

— Disclaimer! This contains massive spoilers and all my plans for future works that I'll soon publish. This is posted because I wish to update my readers upon the contents of what I'm working to write and for them to leave inputs and whatnot. Sorry for the delays and all, life is hectic and as much as I love writing, I also have a life outside of this site sadly. By the way, this is not even half of my drafts and if anyone is interested in the things written beneath here, then please do tell!

To Be His Child is All I want (A&A, Chapter 5): Confronting Jason, one of your brothers who played a role in neglecting you, and being partly the reason why you ventured out the manor to seek love, away from the unhealthy environment, was no easy task. Back and forths with him, and reasoning why you don't wish to return back 'home' only poured fire into the flames of your already aching heart, as you scream about only wishing to be loved by even a fraction of the compassion Bruce feels for all his other children was all you needed to feel happy in life. It was enough to leave Jason breathless, muddled with emotions he couldn't quite grasp.

As you drown in a seamless fit of arguing and sobbing into the arms of your brother, the manor holds a meeting regarding your sudden disappearance. Bruce is promptly disappointed at Jason's absence; the others are just as intrigued with Dick and Damian's urgency to find you. Yet all are unbeknownst to your plans of escape, and most especially to a certain Kryptonian's scheme to have you in his arms all for himself.

Family Dinner (A&A): Silly, old you can't seem to stomach the fact that they're all looking at you now at the elongated table when months ago you were a mere ghost in their eyes whilst they chatter happily amongst each other. Unfamiliar with how communicating with a family who estranged you works; you end up having a panic attack in the middle of dinner when Damian attempted to hug you.

To Love and To Cherish (Random): Bruce Wayne loves his spouse and everything about them. They're everything desirable in his eyes and he couldn't help the urges that keeps him running back to you every time he patrols to ensure not only the safety of Gotham, but for the sake of his growing plans to fully integrate you as a full-time house spouse. The problem Bruce faces, though, is that he's not actually married to you, yet, and you're unaware of his prying eyes on your form as you live alone in your shabby apartment.

Flowers on My Grave (A&A, Hanahaki AU): Flowers don't only bloom inside your lungs when you're rejected by someone you love romantically, they can also manifest through platonic love unrequited. Vomiting a bouquet of yellow carnations and an arraw of purple and blue hyacinths, you set to sever the bond of love you once felt for them once and for all.

Cold House, Lone Spouse (Loving Family, Unpalatable Desire): You come home from Clark's farm to sleep in your own room to make sure nobody suspects a thing; expecting to power through the pain of loneliness in your room. But you end up waking up to Bruce's body pressed against your back and his arms caging you, unrelenting in its pursuit to make sure you never seek out another man's hold again.

Once Your Son, Always Your Son (Loving Family, Unpalatable Desire): Your routine with your beloved son, Jon, leaves nothing else to be desired as you set about your usual nightly schedule of helping him clean up, fix his bed, and read him bedtime stories— something you've grown accustomed to love naturally as being a parent does. But when Damian comes to visit you once Jon falls asleep, he enviously demands you do the same to him and to return to the manor where a better family is waiting for you.

The Confrontation (Loving Family Unpalatable Desire): Clark's night with you always ends up with him hovering above your body, kissing all the exposed parts of your skin, and worshipping your body which lays upon his bed every night. It's the perfect fantasy, yet it's promptly shattered when he sees the familiar silhouette of his comrade, clad in all black, demanding that Clark returns his spouse back in his arms; as if he's not the very same man who left you all alone that night at the gala, available for taking.

A Father's Strange Case of Gift Giving (A&A): To make it up to you, Bruce tries to spoil you rotten with a bottomless allowance and unrestricted access to all his credit cards. Even a mansion built on your name is built as one of the family's vacation houses. One unsettling fact, though, is Bruce's proficiency of capturing every detail of all things you prefer in such a short span of time after kidnapping you. (i.e. You're unaware of the cameras planted in every corner of your room trying to capture the things that makes you smile).

Mind Games and Mind Control (Brutus): What if it were The Riddler and Scarecrow who saved you from nearly dying? With your emotional reception, and both their wits, you end up stirring more trouble for Gotham's vigilantes. But during times where you've nothing to do but watch as both villains enact upon their master plans, itching to satisfy the ache of bloodlust coursing through your veins, you start to notice the abrupt bouts of energy they exert upon tormenting whoever stares at you (sitting comfortably on a cushioned couch, treated like royalty no less) or talks behind your back— crazed for your words of approval and praise as if it's not them who are capable enough of controlling you instead.

The Powered, and the Powerless (Random, Romantic Batfam): During the night, they are your city's saviors, the light that shines bright on darkness, the hope that never wavers through moments of fear. Daytime, meanwhile, they're portrayed as a rich, socialite family who donate millions on charity and everything that promotes good costs. Power comes to them naturally, and praise is served to most of them in a silver platter for all their hard work. You can even say their status is akin to that of Gods, except you don't think of them the same way others do; choosing to utilize your immense knowledge of internet safety to publish articles and conspiracies pertaining to each member of the Wayne family through anonymous forums. Yet all this results in their interest in your secret identity.

Fate Unwanted (Random, Soulmate AU): You're a simple person living on the outskirts of an unnamed town on the boundaries of Gotham. Curious on why your parents are protective of you, forcing you to live with countless of strick rules written boldly on paper and plastered on the front of your refrigerator, and why you just can't seem to produce or perceive any soulmate bond; you set out on a mission to find the mysteries of your unmarked soul. Little did you know that the strangers you stumble upon who chose to assist you on your journey, all from every city and every known state, have found their soulmate that they're unwilling to share.

[pumpkinbxtch]

—00-kissme-i'm drunk ｡⁠:ﾟheadcanons

the hoo guys calling you when they're drunk ft. apollo.

who is here: percy jackson, jason grace, frank zhang, leo valdez & apollo/lester

warnings: maybe a little language. alcohol consumption.

a/n: i'm writing requests but inspiration is gettin hard to come to me, anyways, didn't want to abandon just like that soi offer this small inter. LET'S PRETEND THEY CAN USE PHONES, OKAY?

leo:

— heeyoo, nenaaaaaa, what ya doin? i'm thinkin bout ya like ya in that skirt that oh godsss, my father can do that hot in those stupid forges?

— LEO!

*the call has ended*

jason:

— hmm, i'm sorry, hun' i think i call ya by mistake. maybe i... fuck i lavv ya so much. *starts rambling*

percy:

— fuck baby am gonna marry you, you know? me and you 'til the fuckin' idiot motherfucker end of time

frank:

i woke ya uppp? tell me nooo *sobs* you're tha moooost precious thing -fuck i swear to gods- i have,

apollo / lester:

i actually don't fuckn care what my father says, you're going to be with me on olympus, huuh? pack yA things, daRlinG!!

[lina-lovebug]

I'd Fight The Devil

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Background: (Y/N) Morningstar with her partner, Alastor, has decided to put some of the Overlords in their place.

Warning: Alastor being Alastor, mentions of pregnancy but no one's pregnant, and Alastor might have a breeding kink

_ _ _

"(Y/N)! What a surpri-!"

"I believe that's Princess (Y/N) Morningstar, Heir to the throne of Hell, and Duchess of Chaos - to you," Alastor loved doing this. He adored how (Y/N) had decided to start using her true power, and to bring respect back to her name.

The family name, to be exact.

Valentino chuckled nervously as (Y/N) scoped out the place, her horns ever presenting and tail flicking with annoyance.

"What a pleasure to be hosting you, Princess. What would be the reason for this visit?" Valentino asked, offering her a drink.

"I'm fine, thank you," She dismissed it, already smelling the poison inside the cocktail.

"I'm here to discuss Angel Dust, and your contract with him."

"If he's too much trouble for the hotel, I'll happily-"

"You're the one causing the trouble," Alastor cut him off.

Valentino sputtered, "me?!"

"You can feign innocence all you wish, Val, but I've heard that you've called my sister a bimbo, along with many other colorful names," (Y/N) slowly stood up, leaning over his desk as the lights started to go out - one by one.

"Charlie is nice. She's always been the kinder of us Morningstars, but apparently this makes you think that you can go and soil our name. My father could have strung every sinner on a hook for eternity, torturing you all second by second as your screams sung into our great halls," no one had been unfortunate enough to see the form of (Y/N) Morningstar, and Val was one of them.

Her height expanded to nine feet tall, her pretty black nails forming into claws and her eyes ablaze with scarlet serpent pupils.

And wings - oh great black wings that could make even Adam rethink his attack.

When he was still alive, of course.

"And you sully his gift by mocking us."

"Look, Vox did it first! Okay?! He said you'd never-!" Val tripped on a tentacle that came from her beloved Alastor, who dropped a TV by his feet.

But not just any TV.

"Oh God," Val gasped, "Vox. . .?"

"I took care of him earlier," Alastor grinned, still reminiscent on his screams.

"I couldn't have my dear (Y/N) sully her hands with his filth. But whatever the Princess wants, she gets."

Oh to see her come into her power was as chilling as death itself.

"You're so romantic, Alastor," (Y/N) smiled.

That's when Valentino spotted it. On the left hand of (Y/N) Morningstar was a ruby wedding ring, the band pure gold.

Alastor finally did it.

He climbed up the latter, but not through power.

Well yes, through power, but he certified that it would always be his.

By marrying Lucifers daughter.

"We're matching, isn't it adorable?" Alastor showed off his own wedding band, ruby's encrusted inside of it.

"Now, where were we?" She grinned, and as an engagement gift, the screams of Vox and Valentino were broadcasted throughout all of Hell.

And they say chivalry is dead.

_ ☆ _

"They're fucking crazy."

"They're made for each other."

On that, Angel Dust and Husker could agree.

The lovely couple had become the center of Hells attention after their engagement was announced, and even though Alastor thought it would be hilarious for Lucifer to find out through the papers, she told him first.

And he cried.

"Oh my baby is all grown up!" Lucifer sobbed loudly, clinging onto her legs, "look at you! You-you used to be this small!" Lucifer grabbed a duck, "and you were so tiny and so cute!"

"Am I invited?" Lucifer squeaked, staring up into her eyes.

"Yes, dad," She smiled, bringing him up to his feet, "but we want to wait a bit before we plan anything."

"You know she used to bite my finger?!" Lucifer grabbed the baby pictures of little (Y/N), "look at how small she was! Oh, and this one is my favorite!"

Alastor truly didn't mind how touchy Lucifer had become with him, but thankfully, Lucifer also knew when to stop.

"Wait, is that why you're getting married?! Did you impregnate my daughter?!" Lucifer gasped, shoving his hand on her stomach.

"Dad! Dad, no! I'm not pregnant!" She quickly cleared up.

"Unfortunately," Alastor muttered to himself. Oh to see her belly swell with his children - his own spawn, it made his cock twitch at the thought.

He was fond of children but his own? Oh he'd spoil his little prince or princess with all the blood sacrifices the world had to offer.

"Yeah but you know what marriage entails, kiddo!" He pointed at them both with finger guns, "first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby-oh my GOD I'll be a grandpa!"

He started crying again.

She sighed, "at least we know our hypothetical child will be taken care of."

Alastor nodded, "I could not have picked a better father-in-law."

At this point, Lucifer was ugly crying.

Alastor looked at his beloved with a soft gaze as she tried calming her father down. To be honest, Alastor never thought he would ever find solace in Hell. He anticipated every day being a fight for his life, always looking over his shoulder and always striving for more power. And as cheesy as it sounded, he saw (Y/N) as his shining light. She brought out his sad heart, and for the first time in his life, he wished his mother was with him.

To see just what a wonderful woman he managed to catch.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Second Time's The Charm VIII

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: You have your baby

It all happened so quickly that Alexia didn't know what to do.

One moment, the cries of your new baby girl filled the room.

She was perfect, bright eyes and a little tuft of wispy hair.

Alexia was allowed to cut the chord.

"Hello, Elena," You said when Alexia presented her to you.

"You did so well, amor," Alexia said, eyes shining with unshed tears," I'm so proud of you."

"She's beautiful."

"Yes." A little bubble of laughter spilled out of Alexia's chest. "She is."

She'd turned away for a second. Only a second to give baby Elena to the nurse to weigh and check. It was just a second, not even that.

A hint of a second.

A bare moment of time when her eyes weren't on you.

A tiny amount of time in the grand scheme of things. Not even enough time to say a word.

You were pale, much paler than before and breathing heavily.

You were already panting through the birth but this was different. It was worse.

You were clammy and unfocused and Alexia reached for you.

Only to have her hand knocked away from you by a doctor hurrying forward.

He said words but either Alexia couldn't understand them or didn't hear them at all. His mouth moved but nothing computed.

Bags were hung up on your iv pole, something injected into you, something else put on a drip.

But you didn't look any better.

You didn't even look really present at all.

This was meant to be one of the best moments of your lives, on the top spot alongside adopting baby Maya and marrying your wife but something was wrong.

Something was so wrong.

"No," Alexia said, scrambling to force words out of her mouth," I...What's going on? No! Stop! Don't take her! Please!"

The doctors were already activating the wheels on your bed, already pulling up the guard rails.

One of the nurses caught Alexia's arms as a flurry of activity happened around her.

"Miss Putellas, y/n is haemorrhaging. Has she told you what that means?"

"Mrs," Alexia says faintly, staring down at the wedding band on her finger, hot like flames against her skin.

"What?"

She looked up at the nurse. "It's Mrs Putellas. We're married."

The nurse's features softened a fraction as she gently led Alexia to the seat by your bed.

"Y/n is bleeding. Heavily. We can keep her on a blood transfusion or we can take her to surgery but we need permission."

"S-Surgery?" Alexia's eyes widened in panic. "She's dying?! She's going to die?!"

"Miss-Mrs Putellas-"

"You need to save her," Alexia insisted, a prickling feeling in her stomach," Anything! Everything! You have to save her!"

"We'll try," The nurse promised," We're going to take her in now but, for you, do you want to wait here or down by delivery with your baby?"

"Elena."

"Huh?"

"Elena. The baby. Her name is Elena."

"That's a beautiful name."

"My wife chose it."

Alexia sat by delivery practically catatonic.

Elena was in the nursery with all the other babies, routinely checked upon but Alexia couldn't bring herself to move, mind swirling with thoughts of you and just how weak you looked in that hospital bed.

You had been smiling before she turned away. You had been happy, eager to have Elena in your arms.

The pitter patter of little footsteps was all Alexia could hear and her body turned automatically, drawing Maya closer to her.

"Mami!" Maya chirped," Abuela say our baby is here?"

"She is. Elena. Your baby sister."

At some point, Alexia had called Eli. She didn't know how. She didn't know when but Maya had been sent to Eli to babysit when you went into labour.

For her to be here now means that Alexia had called Eli.

Maya stood on her tiptoes to look into the nursey.

"Alexia-"

"Mami, they took her. She's in surgery. They're-They're-"

The sobs that had been forced down until now, sprung out full force and Alexia sobbed into her mother's shoulder.

"She's going to be okay, Alexia," Eli said," She's strong. She's going to fight."

"I want my wife, Mami," Alexia said," She didn't even get to hold Elena."

"Something wrong with Mama?"

Maya stood in front of them, bored of staring at the babies and Alexia tried to clamp down on her tears, tried to explain but her words got stuck in her throat.

"Maya," Eli took over though," Your Mama just needs to be checked out a little more. Having your baby sister-"

"Elena," Maya interrupted," Name is Elena. Mama name her."

Alexia bit on the inside of her cheek to clamp down a heart-breaking sob.

"Having Elena has taken a lot out of your Mama so the doctors are checking her over."

Maya took a step closer. "Mama is doctor. Looks after hurt people. Mama hurt? Mami, Mama hurt?"

"Mama is going to be just fine," Alexia said, desperately wishing it into existence," She's going to be perfectly fine. She just needs a bit more rest."

Maya burst into tears.

Alexia cried harder.

The clock taunted them, the hands moving slowly but surely until it was hours past since you had first been taken away.

Maya kept crying.

Alexia cries some more.

Eli kept them hydrated and fed, making stops at the café to get them food.

"Mrs Putellas?"

Alexia was up like a shot, Maya already on her hip.

"Yes? That's me! How's my wife?!"

"She-"

"My Mama going to be okay?" Maya asked.

The doctor nodded. "She suffered a post-partum haemorrhage but we performed a laparotomy. It was successful and she's being taken back to her room. Should we bring the bab-"

"Elena," Maya said," My Mama name her."

"Should we bring Elena back too?"

Alexia nodded, wiping her tears. "That would be nice."

She was by your bedside when you woke up, Maya fast asleep on her lap and a little bassinet nearby.

"Hello, my love."

"Amor, how are you feeling?"

"Like I've just been cut open," You teased but Alexia's face fell," Too soon?"

She nodded. "A little bit."

"How are our babies?"

"Maya was worried. Elena is still perfect."

"Can I see them?"

Alexia gently transferred Maya onto the bed with you. The little girl automatically curled into you in her sleep as Alexia gently lifted Elena.

"Well, hello there, beautiful girl," You cooed as Elena was placed on your chest," It's nice to finally meet you."

She was asleep too, a nice weight on your chest with her scrunched-up little face and even smaller tuft of hair.

"My love," You said," Don't cry."

Tears rolled down Alexia's face as she joined you on the other side of the bed, burying her head into your shoulder as she sobbed.

"I thought I lost you," She choked out," Amor, I was so worried. I didn't understand what was going on."

"I'm okay, Ale," You assured her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head," I'm alright."

"But you weren't. They took you to surgery."

"And they saved me, Ale," You said," They saved me and I'm here, with you and our children and I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

[love-belle]

and at every table, i'll save you a seat !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which once again, the fans speculate that they broke up but they're better than that and better than ever.

or

for when you're gonna spend your life laughing with them. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - im gonna cry tumblr deleted THIS AHISKAKSJSKAKAKAKWK anyway i hope u like this i love u sm <3

≡;- ꒰ °twitter ꒱

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, lilymhe and 877,415 others

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8,628 comments

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username silently dying in the corner until she posts a post saying "ILYSMSMSMSMSM" for charles bc yes im THAT traumatised

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≡;- ꒰ °instagram stories ꒱

*yourusername added to their instagram stories*

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, landonorris, danielricciardo and 2,627,288 others

charles_leclerc mon amour ma via mon cœur ( my love my life my heart )

tagged yourusername

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≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, carmenmmundt, maxverstappen1 and 2,127,829 others

yourusername at every table i'll save u a seat LOVERRRRR

tagged charles_leclerc

17,982 comments

username mama y papa

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charles_leclerc thank you, chérie ❤️

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charles_leclerc forever with you 😘

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username lando and daniel are in london when the wedding in MONACO whatcthefuck

[chiyoso]

chiyo ik ur taking a break but i need... i need a jjk fan to hear this

,,,,,, g g g g gojo satoru and you getting married but ,,, but,,,, you're so irresistible you both had,,, yk,,, in the car while going to the church... only wearing your veil too....

WAIT IS THAT BAD

on another note i do hope your college life treats u well cause... yeah <33 i read that you're on medication? i wish you a get well soon mwamwamwa and nothing but luck and fortune as always hehehe

“wedding day, breeding day”

j. kaisen : gojo satoru.

gojo satoru, the strongest, and gojo satoru, the impatient. he always was, and that impatience will not stop him from dicking you down on your way to the church, just a car ride away before the event, the event of your wedding with him.

▶NOTE. i can't resist the idea, and i wanna get used to taking requests so... i'm gonna use your prompt to practice my mindset, thank you for checking up on me jiji ilysfm <33!!

“y-you just... you just couldn't wait, could you?”

“how the—fuck, how could i mamas?”

the poor driver's cheeks and ears flushed a sinful pink hearing your broken sobs, now debating if he shouldn't partake in guilt, or... keep the window down to listen to the sounds of sex behind him.

you whisper, or attempt to. “the driver- ’t-toru the driver's—” “—don't care, don't care, don't care.” he speaks out with every thrust, his moans growing and mixing with yours.

the limousine continues to drive, to the church, but in comparison to earlier's driving, it had slowed down quite a bit, benefitting your soon-to-be-husband's stability. your hamstrings were pressed against his ruffled, messed up torso, the rest of your legs hung over his shoulders.

“it's-... y-you know it's bad to see your partner before—s-shit!” you moan out arching your head against the window, letting satoru see your face.

you gave up the act once satoru brought a hand down between your legs, his thumb beginning to rub your pretty clit with a mischievous, slurred smile. “my clan wanted the publicity for this shit,”

he pauses his movement, his cock buried into yours, he could feel you tense, clenching him, feeling that lubricated twitching around him.

you look up to him dazed and puzzled, and he curls himself forward, towering over your seated form. “shocking news! the gojo heir, marrying!?”

he grins, attempting to pull his cock right out of you slowly, you were just so tight, so warm, holding onto him and his needy cock like that.

“s-shit baby,” he moves one of your legs down while he continued to hold the other over his shoulder. satoru's free hand gets occupied by his cock, stroking himself while you bit down your bottom lip to the sexy sight.

“stuck-ups, all of them,” he says bitterly with a grunt, but that bitterment melts once he moves his hips forwards again, rubbing the underside of his aching cock above your leaky pussy, stimulating hot pleasure onto your clit.

you whimper, seeing him prepare his cock again to enter inside you, but the limousine comes to a halt. his eyes dart up from you, towards the window behind; annoying, blinding camera flashes, clueless happy people, starstrucked paparazzi—and he grins once more.

“look mamas, they're all so damn eager for us,”

just like both of your warm cores, twitching against each other. “prying, dirty fucks,” he hisses once he prys open your downed leg wider to the side, giving him a gate to heaven itself.

flash one, flash two, three, and more. the amount of times a flash blinds the two of you from outside the limousine, he thrusts his cock inside simultaneously, urgently, his cock getting sucked up by your insides while embracing your leg over his shoulder. “th-that's it baby, just like that, take me all, take me all,” he sucks up a shaky inhale.

“fuck—fuck—fuck,” satoru slurrs out with every thrust, and all you could do was pant heavily, a hand covering your mouth to muffle your soft mewling. “gonna cum baby? you gonna cum? i can feel—i feel your insides taking me in so well,”

“shit mamas,” warmth coiled behind his spine, satoru's thrusts became sloppier, frantic, chasing his satisfaction, unsteady and throaty exhales more pronounced. “play with your dirty pussy,”

“play—fuuuck, fuck i'm gonna-” both of his hands clung around on your leg, hazy eyes now closing to focus on that increasing sensation of heat.

gritted teeth, allowing a small stream of drool to fall on the corner of his lips, and your body caved in to the discomfort of the position, laying limp on your side, with your face towards the front of the car, where you met the driver's eyes briefly on the rearview mirror. “s-so good ’toru, so good so g-...”

“gonna cum—gonna cum, gonna—fucking—cum, gonna fill you up, gonna fill you up so good,” he speaks in between each pound inside you, his muscles tensing up.

“gonna make you my wife with this cum-” he puts your leg down, repositioning himself frantically by laying you straight against the seat, inserting his cock inside you again once your pussy was infront of him. “s-sator-” “fuck! i'm cumming baby i'm-”

“fuuuck,” your walls clench around his cock, thrusting in one final time, flooding his hot cum inside your creamy cunt, mixing in with yours.

“p-pretty—fucking—pussy,” satoru overwhelms himself during his high, shuddering in each repeated thrusts, while you spasmed violently in your orgasm. “all mine, all mine, all fucking mi—”

flash, flash, and flash. “ah,” the door swings open merrily, muted noises from outside now, loud, blaring. multiple gasps and cussing simultaneously heard, a blinding light shining on your breeding session, on your soon-to-be husband's bare ass anyways.

annoyed, but quick, satoru removes his jacket, tossing it infront of your face, along with hiding your torso. he knew you were too weak to react, let alone cover yourself for some decency, and what kind of future spouse will he be if he let his pretty, and dazed wife be ridiculed over this?

he can see it all. not only curses, but tabloids, tabloid after tabloid, 'the gojo clan's heir, claiming a taboo before his wedding'. articles of public indency, the act of premarital sex! tarnishing the prestigious name and reputation of his clan!

his god-awful, forsaken clan.

satoru clicked his tongue, his face once pleasured, now contorting to repulsion, disgust, looking over to his shoulder for the paparazzi to take photos of his flushed, red side profile.

his hands subconsciously move down to your waist, holding you close to him while you recovered slowly, placing his badly placed attention back to yours again.

“hey baby,” he pulls out slowly, practicing retraint from grunting, biting down his bottom lip, still feeling your insides hold his cock tightly.

“h-hm?” satoru makes sure you're hidden infront of his thankfully large frame, properly placing his jacket that he gave you covering your entire bare torso, leaning down to give you tender kisses along the stream lines of your tears.

“hmhm, pretty, pretty girl,” he towers over you protectively, his thumb making circles along your abdomen lovingly.

“you don't mind if we marry with papers instead, right baby?”

NOT AT ALL SATORU. NOT AT ALL. I DONT MIND AT ALL.

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