#Ink stained letters
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My thoughts on the Aventurine drama
I've been inactive for a while, I was (still am) busy in real life but coming back online to post and seeing discourse about a newly crowned favorite character is disheartening. Even more so, that people are harassing other writers over a drama I feel is overblown.
I have thoughts regarding it but I'm unsure if my opinion would be appreciated. But if you'd like to peacefully talk it out with me, I'd be happy to lend an ear. I'd like to hear both sides, as meager as my opinion may be.
Oh boy, here we go.
Aventurine is a character, a fictional being born to entertain the players. He is not real. He can not be offended by what you create of him. There is no point getting upset on the behalf of a character and prioritizing fiction over a person who does actually exist.
If we do want to condemn slavery fics, why not also cancel slave reader fics? Or ones that include things such as dead dove (including yanderes in general) fics because those topics are equally terrible to condone and write about from that point of view. Or how about other characters that have similar topics in their lore. Should those also be canceled too?
*There are also folks who make problematic pieces to help cope with their own trauma. Does that mean they should be canceled too? (On that note: making a piece that holds problematic content does not always mean the person condones it in real life. Fiction is fiction for a reason.)
In the end, I think everyone can have their own opinions, but I would like to say that your opinions do not justify terrible actions. Just because you disagree with something does not justify you bullying someone into deleting one of their works, whether it is art or writing or anything else, I do not think that is justifiable. Harassing someone or calling people to harass them is not right either.
*If you did disagree with it, why not message the author about it instead of making accusatory posts? Even when done with good intentions, all it does is cause harm when it's practically inviting people to go harass someone over a fanfiction. A very mild fanfiction at that.
If you disagree with a piece, cool. That's your opinion. Just don't interact with it then. Block that creator or that tag or whatever it is that led you there. Or if you're curious, ask that creator.
Also, to reiterate, in my opinion, fiction is still just fiction. Especially when it's a fanfiction about a fictional character. Yes, his canon lore exists, but people can use that basis in fanfiction, something that will inherently warp canon because we are not the original writers and can not capture him in the exact way he was created. In case that doesn't make sense: Fanfiction does not have to comply with the original lore. Also since some of you seem to be forgetting: fiction does not mirror real life.
If you are truly that concerned over sensitive topics like that, directing that energy towards projects that involve such topics in real life would be much better than attacking people on the internet.
#Ink stained letters#I'll probably delete this#If I remember#Sometimes I forget I post stuff#aventurine x reader#The slavery fiction drama#That I have#Let's say thoughts on#Will maybe start posting stuff again#Harassing people is not it though#Isn't that a saying#Two wrongs don't make a right#What an unfortunate time to return to#Killed my will to post things#I'll still post something today or tomorrow to make up for being gone#And for this post#Also people getting mad for a character is really strange#In my opinion#The characters aren't real?#They can't get offended?#Why are we hurting real people over a character that isn't real#This is my take on the drama#Can everyone stop harassing other people over fiction#I don't find any sense in it#This is my opinion#hsr aventurine#Also from my experience#Call out posts are generally just harmful#Especially when you don't make it a secret of who you're talking about#Let people write what they want
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I use a variety of things but mostly my messages app. I write and send drafts to myself.
plz reblog for science
#ink stained letters#I also use google docs#And discord#Occasionally notepads#Index cards#Post it notes#My hand writing is a whole different indecipherable language so I try not to use physical stuff#Also the chronic pain and occasional near death scenarios make stuff on my phone much easier
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𝐋𝐢𝐋𝐢. (they. he . she.)
. ↪ black. 17. local genderfluid idiot.
. . .
. ↪ masterlist. taglist. stories. art.
PROPER INTRODUCTION
Hey hi hello, I'm LiLi! I don't quite know how to do introductions, but as long as you aren't a weirdo /neg we'll get along just fine ! (Love me some /pos weirdos though :))
Dms always open !
.retrospring. .pronouns page. .strawpage.
. . .
MAIN INTERESTS.
.Games. TWST, Omega Strikers, A Date with Death, Sims4
.Shows. Death In Paradise, The Essex Serpent, Benson, Roswell
.Music. SZA, The Supremes, MTS, Peter Gundry, I Monster
.Books. Alex Cross, Grimm's Fairytales, Circe, The Sacrifice
.Webseries. Death: Rescheduled
. . .
DNI
.if you support isreal and/or are nuetral on the subject don't interact with me please. same goes for racists/homophobes/transphobes etc
.if you consider yourself a "proshipper"
.just use common sense lols
#pinned post#fish with wings#ink covered wings#paint covered wings#lil speaks#lils mailbox#letters from above#water stained pages#important
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My heavenly knight,
Each day that passes simply brings me despair and I want away from it all. I miss you desperately and fiercely and I would give anything to dive into your cool embrace.
I thought I sensed our beloved prophet today, when I was in and out of sleep. I find myself lost without you. Drifting without a sense of direction. Much like the weeks after leaving Mami and striking out on my own after the church burned and my family was killed by my father’s hand.
Back then I filled that gaping hole with food, now I fill it with sleep. I dreamt of us last night. All six of us on a cruise ship with our systemmates. There was a consol with a big red button labeled with something silly, I can’t remember what. Homura had to push me away so I didn’t press the button, hehe-
The white rat simply watches me. I’ve tried asking it and my father why I’m still here, if the door is her design. Neither answer, of course. If she wants me to break she’s doing a real good job of it. I’d applaud but I’d rather not.
My beloved siren, I hope you’re doing well all things considered. I eagerly await the day you’re back in my arms again. Please stay safe. I love you.
Yours for the rest of our lives,
Kyouko
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List of Random Things For Your Dark Academia Settings | For Writers
The Library 📚
Towering mahogany bookshelves filled with ancient leather-bound tomes
Antique globes and faded maps mounted on the walls
Heavy velvet drapes blocking out the sunlight
Ornate brass reading lamps casting a warm glow
The musty smell of old books permeating the air
The Study 🪶
A large oak desk strewn with papers, quills, and ink bottles
Walls lined with pinned insect specimens and anatomical drawings
An antique typewriter, its keys clacking softly
Stacks of well-worn leather journals and notebooks
A cabinet of curiosities filled with skulls, fossils, and scientific oddities
The Classroom 🎓
Rows of old wooden desks, surfaces scratched with generations of graffiti
A blackboard covered in elaborate chalk diagrams and Latin phrases
Dusty shelves holding jars of formaldehyde-preserved specimens
Antique microscopes and brass telescopes waiting to be used
The tick-tock of a grandfather clock counting down the minutes
The Dormitory 🕯️
A four-poster bed heaped with tattered quilts and faded velvet pillows
Parquet wood floors layered with antique persian rugs
Flickering candles in tarnished silver holders casting dancing shadows
A steamer trunk overflowing with vintage tweeds and wool knits
Tea-stained pages of love letters and poetry scattered on the nightstand
The Secret Society Meeting Room 🗝️
An imposing stone fireplace with Latin phrases carved into the mantel
Worn leather armchairs circled around a low table set with tarnished silver
The air thick with pipe smoke and burning incense
Shelves lined with ancient masks, ceremonial daggers, and dusty alchemical tomes
Shadows dancing on the tapestry-covered walls in the candlelight
#writing#thewriteadviceforwriters#writeblr#writers block#on writing#writing tips#how to write#creative writing#writers on tumblr#writers and poets#dark academia#dark academism#dark acamedia#dark acadamia aesthetic#dark acadamia quotes#fiction writing#writing a book#romance writing#writing advice#writing blog#novel writing#writing community#writing guide#writing characters#writing ideas#writing inspiration#writing resources#writing software#writing reference#writing tips and tricks
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Lucifer in a suit. Lucifer who is well-groomed, with slicked back hair and a dab of expensive cologne on his neck. Who spent hours getting ready to see you, ensuring he's the most divine-looking demon to exist. He's immaculate. Not a thread out of place. Polished leather shoes that clack proudly with each sure step. He's as radiant as the moon.
Lucifer who hasn't slept for three days. Lucifer who is about to lose it on the next demon to speak with him. The dark bags under his eyes are heavier than Beelzebub's dumbbells. His tie is loose. There's an odd brown stain on his shirt that could be either coffee or blood. A button is falling off his sleeve placket. His hair is disheveled and greasy and there's a wrinkle in between his eyebrows. Letters and words blur together on whatever page he tries to read, and there are streaks of black ink smeared across the side of his hand.
#the duality of demon#someone sent me the nicest ask ever the other day aaaaaaaaa thank you#obey me#obey me!#omswd#obey me shall we date#obey me scenarios#obey me swd#obey me headcanon#obey me lucifer#obey me x reader#obey me fandom#obey me writing#obey me drabble#obey me imagines#obey me lucifer x mc
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Omg requests for fiyero!
How about an angsty childhood best friends to strangers to lovers? Maybe growing up together, parting ways and then reuniting at shiz?
Thank you!
purple butterflies (fiyero. t)
synopsis ➾ gn! reader, purple butterflies and strawberry tarts; the memories of him who turned bittersweet with growing up. He replaced them with lovers and careless days. You replaced the memories with studying and focusing on your future, never thinking your new worlds would ever collide. [w.c 4k]
warnings ➾ reader is heartbroken and sassy, angst, fiyero being cute, me being shit at science and inventing my own rules bc let's face it this takes place in a magic land
authors note - omg stop I ADORE this request, I've had so much fun writing this <3 hope you like it. also i hope i didn't miss any accidental pronouns, i wanted to make this gn, lmk if i did!.
fiyero masterlist
main masterlist
and strawberry tarts (p.2)
Purple butterflies and strawberry tarts. If you were careful you could still taste the faint sourness of the fresh strawberries from the grounds of Kiamo Ko. The freshly made dough and the sugar sprinkled on top, caramelised just enough to balance it with soft bitterness.
But now it seemed the bitterness conquered it all. Turned the strawberries tasteless, the pie crust burnt to an overbearing crisp and the sugar overcooked, with it chased away the butterflies and turned the grass greener on the other side.
Kiamo Ko had been left empty by the prince a long time ago. When his turbulent personality started bubbling up to the surface, the king and queen started to grasp every straw they possibly could, clinging for any solution to mend their son’s behavior.
When the list of tutors fell short, by the twentieth one who ran out of the castle with freshly broken glasses and a dirt stained shirt, howling scandal as he pushed himself through the doors—it had been a final decision. Fiyero was to be sent to boarding school.
With him gone, emptiness was brought to Kiamo Ko, and his family decided to move away. To another castle, another place that would better suit their new needs.
Your family was thanked for their service. Your father retired from his duties in the royal guard, and stayed behind to tend your farm. Only your eldest brother had accompanied the royals in their new life.
It's not like you wanted to become strangers. You tried to grasp at your friendship. Sending him letter after letter. But when the letters went unanswered, you were left with a universe of unanswered feelings. Unanswered questions that would forever cloud your heart.
With that, the prince became a distant memory. Chasing fluorescent purple butterflies in the gardens of Kiamo Ko at night and eating his mother's strawberry tarts became faded dreams.
Your only source of information became gossips and your brother's occasional letter, reporting on Fiyero's short stays at the new castle.
You heard he had asked about you, once, maybe twice. But as years passed, and his interests fully shifted, so did yours.
~
Your vile was running out of ink. Your fingers were stained blue, from your palm to the very tips of your fingers--stains you would struggle removing.
Your scribbles were getting rougher. You needed to finish this, you wanted to finish this before the clock struck three. You were getting a headache, your blueish hand was cramping, and you were starting to stain the parchment.
But people were squeaking, whispering, and where the library once felt quiet and peaceful it now felt like a coffee shop on saturday afternoons, filled to the brim with gossipers.
You continued scribbling. Something about Munchkinland being saved from rebels. A leader, a general was involved in the lot, you couldn't remember his name, you wanted to remember his name. So you continued to fill the paper with nonsense until his name would come to your mind.
But you were running out of ink. The loops felt lighter, were lighter, you wouldn't have enough to finish. So you pressed th quill further on the page. You continued to write, a sentence than another, a word than another.
Snap.
Fuck. Your feather snapped in half.
"Dammit."
"You alright?" Elphaba broke your turbulent mind, glancing towards you.
That's when she noticed; the broken quill, the stained hands, the essay dirtied in front of you.
"Fine," you mumbled, throwing the quill aside. "I thought I could finish this today."
"It's not due til next week, you'll be fine."
"Hm," you wanted to rub your forehead, but quickly realised it wouldn't be a good idea.
Elphaba saw it, she fished for her handkerchief in her pocket and handed it to you.
You thanked her, cursing again when you realised the extent of the mess on your fingers.
"What's going on?" She asked when another sigh escaped your lips.
"Nothing," you mumbled. "I have a headache, I'm hungry, tired-"
"You're working too much."
"I need to pass this class. Since Mr. Dillamond left-"
"I know. We're all in the same situation here, don't worry about it."
"Right..." You continued wiping your fingers. She was right. The whole class had been going on a down spree since the new teacher arrived. He was harsh, focused on shallow things from history you shouldn't be studying. Where once it was about analyzing the impact history had on the lands of today, his class became about glorifying the heroes still alive and spreading propaganda.
It didn't help that the whole school seemed to be brewing with anticipation. Your gaze caught once again for the fourth time that day; three students whispering and giggling to each other about something. They were squeaking and blushing.
"What is going on?" You huffed, twisting the handkerchief.
"A prince arrived at school or something."
"Prince?" You raised an eyebrow. You wondered who it could possibly be. Most princes of Oz had already graduated university, and as far as you knew, Fiyero was on the other side of Oz studying at Killimand.
"Oh Oz," you cursed, one of your bracellets had been contaminated by the ink. You wanted to cry, or maybe it was just the nerves from the day building up. This was your favorite. It had too many memories attached, memories you didn’t want to forget just yet.
"What happened?"
"Bracelet's stained," you tried to clean it but it kept falling from your grip.
"Here, let me help," she grabbed your wrist and the handkerchief.
Indeed the small butterfly wing pendant had been stained by blue.
"Here," she smiled, wiping it clean. "All good." She dropped your hand and placed the fabric back in her pocket. "It's pretty," she noticed as you checked it. "Anyone has the other half?"
"How do you know it has another half?"
"It's half a butterfly," she suggested and you smiled at the observation.
"It is. I don't think anyone has the other half," you replied with a tight smile. You knew the other half had existed, but whether or not it still did, or was still worn by its owner was another question. You started to fold your essay and clean your writing supplies. "So, this prince?"
"Oh, yeah, everyone is already swooning over him. Stumbled across him, he didn't seem like the brightest."
"Does he have a name?"
"It's that Winkie prince, Fiyero something-"
"Fiyero Tigelaar?" You gulped, and your face must have fallen because Elphaba scrunched her eyebrows.
"You know him?"
"N-no," you quickly shook your head, "just heard of him... Everyone has-" you breathed, why your hands were getting clammy?
"I'm going to go, I'll see you tomorrow," you collected the last of your stuff. Shoving your books and quill in your bag faster than you realised.
Elphaba looked so confused, you almost felt bad, almost wanted to turn around to apologize, but your mind was already on overdrive. Your chest was starting to uncontrollably heave--you needed to get out, quickly.
Fiyero was here? At Shiz?
If you thought you were having a bad day, you didn't think it could get any worse. The one person that you thought you would never see again was now roaming the very halls of your University. You'd probably share a class or two with him if you were truly that unlucky.
Oz, what did you do to deserve this?
Would he even remember you? Would he even realize the heartache he had caused you?
Would he remember what he had told you that night under the stars when it was official he would be leaving to boarding school? How he had held your hand, squeezed it so tight so you would remember his touch.
Would he even remember chasing purple butterflies for the last time together that night. How impatient he had been, how he scared them, making them flutter away, only for the small creatures to circle the both of you.
How the butterflies, the moonlight, and the silent trees were the only other witnesses to him kissing you.
Your first kiss.
His first kiss.
Though it would be his first kiss of many; a start to a life of accumulated lovers, you reminded yourself as you clenched your books a little tighter.
You had just been his first victim.
That night, under the stars of Winkie country as fluorescent purple butterflies swarmed around you, as his hand slithered around your waist, the other brushing the apple of your cheek in a sealing touch. That night he had sealed the fate of your heart with his lips.
Because the next morning he had left you and Kiamo Ko behind with no regrets, only preparing himself for his new life ahead.
"And so this is the library," Glinda's voice mumbled over your ears. You were too focused on your boiling thoughts to even register her, or to notice the figure trailing behind her.
You royally bumped into them, full strength as you attempted to dart out of the library.
Whoever he was; he was strong. Years of training behind him as you felt his arm wrap around your shoulder in attempt to cushion the crash.
"Wow hey there, watch out," his voice was soft, charming, familiar almost- "Ranger!?" He squeaked in delight. Your mind swirled, no one had called you that since-
Fiyero.
You opened your eyes to meet his.
Indeed you were face to face with him, his arms still wrapped around you.
He was older, but then so were you. He didn't change a bit though, still as handsome, maybe even more charming than before. You found yourself staring up at the same blue eyes, the same grin you remembered and loved.
Your heart looped in your chest, and that's when you knew you had to get out of here, quickly.
But as he looked at you his eyes sparkled, and the brightest smile you had ever seen him wear raised upon his features, somehow your feet were stuck in place.
"Oh Oz! How have you been?" Fiyero did not hesitate to cage you in his arms again, and suddenly you couldn't breathe.
His hug was perfect. Just like you remembered. As if the years had never passed and you still fitted against one another like two pieces of a puzzle.
Two wings of the same butterfly.
You felt incapable of reciprocating the hug. He didn't feel the same, yet he felt exactly like you remembered. He smelled the same, jasmin, fresh roses and leather, almost intoxicating as the memories came crashing through again.
You wanted to cry. Right there in the middle of the Shiz library, as his arms were wrapped around you; you wanted to cry.
Suddenly you craved Cruck, your rabbit stuffed animal that you left behind under the soft covers of your childhood room. You wanted to be tucked into your pastel sheets by your mother. You wanted to fall asleep with a smile on your lips as you remembered the day's adventure. That sleep would take you as you dreamt of the roses of Kiamo Ko; because you knew you would wake up just to run to them again the next morning.
Because you knew that after your mother attempted to have you eat breakfast, you would run back to the castle just to find Fiyero waiting for you up in the tree by the gates.
You almost melted into the hug. Almost.
Because after the jasmin, the roses and the leather there had been heartbreak. The lost letters, the unanswered calls. The empty promises.
"I'm alright," you attempted, still crushed in his grip.
"You two know each other?" Galinda squeaked behind her books. Eye brows scrunching, of course she would be the one showing him around.
"Yeah!" Fiyero bounced on his heels, loosening his grip on you.
He was gazing at you as if you were a wonder of the world and you did not like it one bit.
Hand still on your shoulder, people were starting to gather around, curiosity getting the best of them. After all, you had suddenly become a competition in the conquering of his heart.
But the more eyes were on you, the tenser you felt--and Fiyero did not seem to care or even notice.
"Yeah! Her brother works for the royal guard, we grew up together! Oz! How have you been?" He repeated, and you blinked--was he truly this happy to see you?
You wanted to disappear into the books, melt into the shelves, and be one with the stories.
"I've been fine," it was colder, drier than you wished. You didn't want to speak to him that way, but you couldn't help yourself. "I have to go Fiyero."
He almost seemed disappointed. You almost felt bad.
"See you around?"
You didn't reply.
You left without even glancing back to him.
~
The clock was ticking painfully slow, and you watched as Mr. Willows grabbed yet again another bicker from the shelves by his side.
He placed it on his desk and stepped towards the small glass greenhouse. Five small bright neon blue mushrooms stood proudly atop a mound of dirt.
He delicately removed the glass top of the greenhouse and the mushrooms suddenly lost all their fluorescence, turning grey white. You carefully watched as he plucked one right out and dropped it into the bicker.
As he placed the glass jar back on top and the mushroom's colors shone brightly again, he grumbled in his low voice, "Now, do you know what causes their fluoresces?" He turned his glass-hidden eyes towards the twenty-six heads in front of him.
No answers.
You hesitated, but giggles stopped you. Giggles coming from the back left of the classroom, not far from the door.
In the quiet of the room, all eyes turned to them. Of course, they had bloomed from Fiyero's chest, and you eyed as he leaned back in his chair smirking, with a blushing Galinda by his side.
"Is there something funny Mr. Tigelaar?"
Fiyero seemed to be taken aback, but he brushed it off just as quickly, "no, please continue with what you were saying."
"Can you answer the question for me?"
He blinked.
"Could you repeat the question?"
"What causes the fluoresce of those mushrooms?"
"The fact that they're magic?" Fiyero poorly offered, and you were sure it had caused a laugh from a red-headed girl sitting across you.
Mr. Willows sighed, placing his glasses further up his nose.
"Anyone else?"
"It's caused by the chemical reaction of their molecules when it's exposed to dark lights. The moon is enough to light them in nature, but during the day, to see it you'd have to place it in special glass, like the one you have, Sir."
"Very good. At least someone is paying attention."
You missed the grin Fiyero was throwing you.
~
"Hey, Ranger!" His voice caught in your ears, tangling like honey and seeping through every parts of you.
You were tempted to escape, but somehow he had melted your feet to the ground, and all you could do was wait for him to catch up, "still love being the smarter one I see?" He offered, leaning to you with a sly grin.
What game was he playing?
"Fiyero, it was a simple answer, you should have known that."
"Will you come to the Oz dust tonight?"
"No. I've got to study."
"C'mon! It will give us a chance to catch up!"
"No," your reply was stern, and you could almost catch a glimpse of disappointment across his features; same as this morning in the library.
"Do it for me, please?" he pouted, big blue eyes sparkling again--and suddenly you were back in the gardens of Kiamo Ko, with a pleading boy prince, begging that you join on his mischief.
"I'll think about it," you sighed, tightening your grip on your books as you started bouncing on your heels to leave. Oz, you'd have to work on the effects his charm had on you.
You were over him.
You had been over him for years, or so you thought.
"You better be there," he pointed out.
"I'll think about it," you repeated, giving him a short smile before finally disappearing into a corridor.
~
"So what was that about? Your dramatic, I don't know Fiyero, but I clearly do?" Elphaba raised an eyebrow, looking up from her book.
"It's nothing," you huffed, focusing on your history book. You turned around on your bed, your back towards Elphaba in a silent plea to stop the questions.
"I'm calling it bullshit."
"I'm allowed my secrets," you mumbled against your pillow.
"No," she grinned. "Not with the way he was staring at you."
"Same way he stares at everyone."
"Galinda will beg to differ. She's been pestering me with questions about you all day!"
You heard shuffling from behind you, and glanced from the corner of your eye to see Elphaba closing her book and marching the few steps towards you.
"Then let her think. It will do her some good to use that brain of hers," you turned your focus back on your textbook--eyes squinting as you turned the page; only to be met with Winkie Country in bold black letters, with a drawing of the plains and cities below it.
"Ugh," you harshly closed the book, slapping it across the bed.
"Will you tell me at least?" You barely noticed as she sat by the foot of your bed.
"There's nothing much to say," your eyes met hers. "We grew up together, then we lost contact."
"And nothing else happened?"
"No," you lied.
"I refuse to believe that."
"That's what you will have to do, sorry," you sighed and stared at your ceiling lamp, a pretty purple crystal flower blooming from the ceiling.
"Right..." She paused in thought, you were almost curious as to what she would say next. "Well I don't, and I'll keep pestering you about it."
"It's almost curfew, you need to get back to your dorm," you mumbled, sitting up and grabbing your hair brush from your bedside table.
"Stop changing the subject," she warned. "Galinda's probably there getting ready with her two shadows anyway."
"Tweedle dee and Tweedle dumb," you laughed to yourself, starting to detangle your hair. "Are you going to the Oz dust with them?"
"No. You?"
You shook your head no, snuggling deeper into the cushions of your bed.
"I heard Fiyero asked you to come," she teased.
"You heard nothing," you pointed to her with the tip of your hair brush. "Now get out before I throw that book in your face," you accentuated your words by pushing your textbook toward her with your toes.
"Fine," she chuckled. "I'm warning you, I'll get the answers out of you somehow," and with those words, she disappeared through the doors of your dorm, leaving you alone with the shadows of your thoughts.
Your eyes went back to the lamp on your ceiling before fluttering closed. You sighed through your nose, heart squeezing in your chest.
Pictures of a dancing boy in a pastel green suit flashed before your closed eyes before you could stop them. The polished marble floors of the great hall as music flowed. Your father in a uniform, adorned by medals; a change to his usual knight's armor you rarely saw him out of. Your mother in her most beautiful dress by his side.
Fiyero dragging you through the dancing bodies, causing havoc once again. The Queen scolding him later that evening.
You almost expected to open your eyes to the beautiful adorned ceiling of Kiamo Ko's great hall, but when you did, you weren't met with the familiar stained glass. You weren't met with the family portraits of generations of Tigelaars.
You were met with that damned purple ceiling lamp.
Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to go...
Maybe you could get some answers out of him?
Maybe you could finally get some closure.
But could you handle the hypocrisy? Could you handle seeing him dancing with Galinda, just for him to look at you with puppy dog eyes the second she was out of his sight?
~
Your outfit felt tight against your body. Tighter than it usually did. The purple mesh pooled around you perfectly as you walked, trailing behind you gracefully with each step. For a golden second, you felt like you belonged here, walking down the steps of the Oz dust.
The music was loud, echoing through the cave in its gripping melody. People were cheering, singing lyrics you did not know, and it suddenly felt as if you were drowning, maybe you were. Caged under the ocean in a bubble of music, sweat, and fairy dust.
That's when you spotted him. He was dancing with a boy you shared mathematics with. Jory, a tall handsome blonde that had most students swooning before Fiyero had stepped a foot at Shiz.
You noticed Galinda was nowhere to be found, nor was Elphaba.
You breathed.
You could do this.
If your biggest fear was Galinda's judgment, and she wasn't even there, then why was your heart beating out your chest the more your feet took you down the stone steps?
You twisted the fabric of your sleeves as you darted towards the bar. You smiled at the waiter before ordering your drink, your rings clinking with your coins as you placed them on the marble counter. to pay.
And suddenly he was there. Like a shadow he appeared, attracted to you like a moth to a flame.
"You came," there was a smile in his voice you couldn't deny. It made you at a loss for words, awkwardly swallowing as you figured out what you should say.
"Where's your date?" You finally spoke, keeping your gaze focused on your hands on the counter.
"Left with her roommate."
"Hm,"
"I'm glad you're here," his voice was soft over the music, yet you could still hear it just as clearly.
You didn't reply, simply smiled before turning your attention to the drink the waiter slid to you.
You took a sip, bathing in the silence between you.
Fiyero's silence was loud, so loud your ears were ringing.
Before you could even register, his hand reached to yours. Pinky finger searching your own on the polished counter. You watched, unable to let your attention fly from his hand. The moment felt painfully slow, and too fast all at once.
Suddenly you saw it, the pull of your butterfly pendent.
You noticed his only after, the golden bracelet amidst the myriad of others; leather cuffs, silver, and gold chains. But the one you had placed upon his wrists years ago was still there, and as his hand crept closer, the two pendants collided like they were meant to.
The magnets merged and the purple butterfly was whole again.
Two wings of the same butterfly.
You gazed up to see him, just to find his eyes already on yours.
Neither of you spoke, scared to break the silence.
Your vision was getting blurry, your breath was becoming chopped. Now you really felt like you were drowning.
Drowning in a myriad of purple butterflies.
You were back in that forest. His eyes were the ones of a small boy again, standing amidst the gardens of his home. The jasmin, the roses and the leather were engulfing you whole, filling your lungs to the brim.
"Dance with me."
"We shouldn't-"
"Please?"
#prince fiyero 🫧#fiyero#fiyero tigelaar#fiyero x you#fiyero imagine#fiyero x reader#fiyero tigelaar x you#fiyero tigelaar x y/n#fiyero tigelaar x reader#fiyero tigelaar imagine
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🎨 Artists File #2: @artsymeeshee
The Mystery Twin Mystery Bags project is a Gravity Falls-themed fundraiser for Gaza aid. If you’d like to learn more about us, please check our pinned FAQ!
Image Description: A graphic made to look like Stanford Pine's journal entries with aged paper, coffee stains, symbols, and ink splatters on it. Written in the top left corner in bold letters is "Artsy" Below in cursive reads: "(she/her) Instagram, Tumblr, Twitter: artsymeeshee" Below is Artsy's part of a girl wearing a paper bag over her face with a big smile on it. An arrow points at it with a note in cursive: "Used to ride horses and compete in Barrel Racing as a kid." Next to that photo is Artsy's art of the Pines Family in autumn, laying down on a blanket and smiling. An arrow points to that image saying: "This was a good day!"
Check us out on our other social medias: Twitter Instagram
#gravity falls#palestine#gaza relief#gaza aid#gaza fundraisers#mystery twin mystery bag#mtmb#artist intros
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐅
synopsis: how he experiences the five stages of grief
including: veritas, jing yuan, sunday
side comments: live laugh love angst… anyways, these are all my own renditions of how i think they’ll experience grief. just keep in mind these ‘stages’ are not the same for everyone and can move in order etr. I was going to do blade and boothill but i think I'll do a separate post for that.
extra: gn except for jing yuan, mentions of marriage in jing yuan's, angst, a bit of substance use if you blink, established relationship, can you tell it's my first time writing sunday? favourites: jing yuan word count: 2000+
𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎
STAGE ONE: DENIAL
Dr. Ratio is a man who took pride in being factual. His entire life was in the efforts of purging the world of ignorance; replacing it with truth. Yet, the hospital's fluorescent lights seemed to push his shoulders down- false. The flurry of movement merged and buzzed until Veritas could feel his ear drum shatter, false. Veritas's throat burned in silence- false. When your pale figure came into view: dressed in that hospital gown you despised, the heartbeat monitor's line flat- Veritas only thought was false.
STAGE TWO: ANGER
Veritas knew anger was the next stage. He was a doctor after all. The doctor who should have brushed his hands over your pale forehead. The doctor who should have heard your final words escape the lips he once traced. The doctor who should have raced to the defibrillator. The doctor who should have counselled and administered your medicine hand by hand, line by line. The doctor who shouldn't have trusted you're tender words and dotting smile. The doctor who should have held you're hand in public when you still could walk. The doctor who should have loved his spouse more.
STAGE THREE: BARGAINING
Margaret was no longer Dr. Ratio's assistant. Nevertheless, she found herself knocking at his office door, a loaf of homemade bread in tow and a small card bearing her sincerest empathy. Margaret recalled how Dr. Ratio's stoic expression twitched and busted into a radiant smile when you teased him. Similarly, Margaret recalled the coolness of your hands and the frequent coughs muffled in the dark corners of his office where you thought no soul could hear you.
"Dr. Ratio?" calls Margaret; knocking on the office door. "I baked some bread for you, is it possible for you to open the door?"
Margaret waits, however, there is no response. She sighs, gingerly placing the basket on the floor. "( Name ) would not want this of you, Dr. Ratio. Please-" she pauses, searching for the 'right' words, "Please take care of yourself."
Several hours pass, Margaret long gone. Dr. Ratio gradually opens the door, the bread gone cold. He sets the basket on a stack of books as the letter flutters to the ground unnoticed. Veritas resumes his ceaseless work.
STAGE FOUR: DEPRESSION
The world seems strangely slow yet incredibly fast. Tangible yet fickle. Veritas blinks; staring at the paper he has been writing for several months, the silence of his office serene. Veritas blinks again, however, his handwriting is a foreign entity in his mind like: a map of unnamed stars. The kind he fails to understand. What was he writing about? Veritas glances into the disorder of his office: papers strewn across the floor littered with empty mugs. What did drink again?
Veritas' eyes return back to his paper. However, the lines seem to blur and the black ink stains his hands. Something wet plummets onto the paper: droplets of salty rain.
For the first time in a year, Veritas wept and shuddered: his broad shoulders quivering.
STAGE FIVE: ACCEPTANCE
For the first time in years, the night is quiet. Nothing stirs him within the boundless expanse of his dreams. Your side of the bed- the one in which the indent of your body still impresses, fossilized until the end of eternity- remains empty. Yet, when the Doctor’s eyes flutter open- pieces of moonlight streaming into the bedroom- a tender smile, under the fragments of yet another year, gaze at your pillow. The place where your head- the one which bore your mind, the mind he praised and eventually sought after in deep ardency- would have been.
Veritas stretches his hand out and sighs, allowing the receding tide of moonlight to consume him.
𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍
STAGE ONE: DENIAL
Each century blossoms and unfolds like a leaf; curling in on itself, one after another. Jing Yuan- the longest serving general, an immutable stream amongst jagged cliffs and tedious droughts- has navigated each trial and satisfaction with a placid smile and deep-set composure. Steadfast as the strike of thunder. Thus, as your body came to him- wrapped up in silk and satin, dressed for a place he could not reach- he did not waver, did not crumble, did not teeter on the tenacious line of undoing or succumb to an onslaught of hot, burning tears. No, he stood firm, feet planted into the ground, a series of complex roots. A system built from the movement of each dynasty; sailing into infinity.
None of those perdurable systems tumbled down at your cold, pale feet in either great armies of dust or strings of sorrowful defeat. In truth, the arbiter general was struck by another breed of anguish. A demand within himself that drowned in waters of tranquillity.
Why would his eyes not let him weep?
STAGE TWO: ANGER
Rumours are feisty beings, strangely tenacious until extinguished, lighting a spark under every tongue.
"Did you hear? The General's spouse-"
"If the Arbiter General can not ensure the safety of his own spouse, then perhaps it is time he retires-"
"Oh such sad news! I suppose even those with such strength are not privy to tragedy."
"I heard the order was under his command-"
Jing Yuan claws at the various papers strewn across his desk, his fingers twitching, chest heaving, the cord of his spine rattling-
He then breathes and settles into his chair, the whispers still reverberating in his head. The murmurs of others, though, most of his own.
STAGE THREE: BARGAINING
The infamous name- the Dozing General- could no longer be applied to Jing Yuan it seemed. Even Fu Xuan- in all of her astute and assiduous nature- observed how he toiled senselessly at the Seat of Divine Foresight; attempting to foresee fate and cut its wings before it could fly.
Nevertheless, the cadence of his voice reverberated the same. The winsome smile and regal prudence still lingered when addressing each official.
Yet, underneath- noted Fu Xuan- was a layer of unspoken words and evenings spent with wine and paperwork. While the twinkle, nestled within the golden brilliance of his eyes, dimmed ever so slightly. And perhaps, if seen under the silent beam of moonlight and incense, that same twinkle, vanished.
STAGE FOUR: DEPRESSION
A general has no time to weep.
"Are you the General Jing Yuan?"
Jing Yuan gazes down near his feet. There, a child- perhaps no older than seven- stands. Her eyes were large marbles of vast azure: wide, open, hungrily consuming the world around her.
A finite smile reaches his lips. "Yes, I am-" he crouches down to her height- "and you?"
The child giggles, a loud grin stretching across her face. "Do you know where Ms. (Name) is?"
Jing Yuan stops and his throat grows tight. His smile remains. "No, why do you ask?"
"She is going to teach me more about flowers!" bursts the child, stretching her arms out, revealing a small bouquet of chrysanthemums.
"Ms. (Name) said chrysanthemums mean happiness!" she chirps, "These ones are for you. Ms. (Name) often says giving flowers makes people feel good."
'She mixed them up,' muses Jing Yuan, his eyes depressing slightly, 'They are related to sadness.'
"Well... why thank you."
Jing Yuan observes the child run off, a gentle wind brushing against his hair. The bouquet of chrysanthemums clenched firmly in his fist
It is then, does Jing Yuan weeps.
The General is not seen at the Seat of Divine Foresight the following day.
STAGE FIVE: ACCEPTANCE
All existence reaches finality.
And yet, as Jing Yuan stood amongst rocking flowers and a grave of fireflies- their light illuminating the vast expanse of the valley- he heaves a languid, heavy sigh. Thus, muttering a string of inaudible sentences, whisking them away on a foreign planet only known by your flesh and tender bruised heart. Only known by the curve of your smile: as delicate as a moonbeam. And the air of your laughter: rich and gritty. Filled with sanguine songs and velvet kisses pressing and unfurling like the wings of a sparrow.
You took a flight to a distant star while Jing Yuan marked your coming and going. Wrote it on his calendar and etched it onto the tablet of his heart. For he was the dust behind your trailblaze, the chain of your necklace, the wind to your flight, the pause between your sentences. A visitor to your unfettered brilliance: a museum he spent hours enthralled with.
He'll meet you anew, as all existence reaches finality.
𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘
STAGE ONE: DENIAL
Sunday does not experience denial.
He spares no time for denial, for moments in which the world spins on its axis, when there is a loss for words, or a deep enlarging numbness yet to be felt. Not a minute is untouched, not a stride wasted. Sunday will peel Penacony apart like the skin of an orange- the kind you delighted yourself in until he silenced the voices and brought justice down at your frigid feet. A mission, a goal, a veil, an excuse to not falter nor sway.
Maybe then- when the curtains close- will he succumb to the gelid embrace of denial.
STAGE TWO: ANGER
Sunday does not experience anger.
Anger- notes Sunday- is a vile entity: flashes of red and spurs of desire and whim. It is neither planned, calculated, or bound by probity and accord nor coiled around the neck: firm and unyielding.
Anger gives birth to chaos, destruction; painting the sky with the distinct strikes of mortal failure.
And yet, the white satin of Sunday’s gloves itch and kindle; rubbing against his skin, akin to burning flesh. He stands alone in the solitude of his office, the door fastened shut, he quivers, shakes, the chair tumbles to the floor, it cracks, shatters, breaks.
It is not Sunday- not the polished reputable image- for this Sunday could crush the Penacony he born from his bare hands, snap its spine in half, and observe it crash and burn: a raging lighthouse to the darkened universe. He’ll paint himself the image of destruction: a portrait bearing his features.
However, Sunday- the visage of a man known by the throng- will never bind himself to such acts.
Perhaps in a dream- within his innermost subconscious- he will.
STAGE THREE: BARGAINING
Sunday does not bargain.
Sunday is faithful. Streamlined with virtue and prose, his head held a touch higher than the rest; allowing him to dwell beyond the scope of a singular moment. For he peers into the valley of an endless dream.
Yet, does the Order taunt him? Does the Harmony know of his sweet dream? Perhaps it is punishment, a game, a test, a question.
Was that dream- born from a chance encounter, raised by long languid nights, cherished between the crevices of his chest- never destined to be his? Could not a sliver of joy- he pleaded- be made for him?
A selfish pursuit, he noted, even to the Aeons.
STAGE FOUR: DEPRESSION
Sunday does not experience depression.
However, Robin deduces otherwise.
The Sunday she knows will not linger around a room- your office to be exact- and trace the bumps and texture of the wall until it becomes embedded into the flesh.
The Sunday she knows will not gaze blankly at portraits, chairs, paperwork, people, the bottom of his glass cup where a hue of auburn glimmers before him. His feathers sulking in the bar's limelight.
The Sunday she knows will not be the image she knew last: not when you swept across Penacony's chess board, shoved pieces aside and allowed the lingering fragrance of freedom to overtake every knight and king. Not when you drew the corners of her brother's lips up into a kaleidoscopic smile; she viewed Sunday in colours she thought he could never be equipped to express. You were enigmatic, riddled with an unbound spirit, the kind which took you farther than any halo or set of wings. Therefore, bewildering Sunday in ribbons of muted laughter and fluttering wings.
It is no wonder she observed her brother- basking in soulglad- whispering your name, muttered in the solemn cadence of prayer.
STAGE FIVE: ACCEPTANCE
Sunday hopes, that he'll reach acceptance.
Nestled within the ladder of his chest, he still longs for the curves of your body and the shadow of your figure to emerge behind that doorway. For your voice to reverberate across the halls; a string of melodies and bygone memory. That, perhaps, you'll wrap the supple length of your arms across his chest and tilt your head in the manner it had been replayed in his head. While whispering those same terms: your warmth translates from every syllable and sentence.
When the dream has receded, he'll emerge anew. Strike his foot down onto the blanket of the universe, a city of stars and wait patiently, working meticulously, to capture your glowing visage in the golden hue of his iris.
masterlist.
#—stellaronhvnters.#honkai star rail#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#hsr#hsr angst#dr ratio x reader angst#dr ratio x you#dr ratio x reader#dr ratio angst#dr ratio hsr#veritas ratio x reader#writing ᝰ.ᐟ#veritas ratio#jing yuan x reader#jing yuan x reader angst#jing yuan x you#jing yuan angst#jing yuan hsr#jing yuan#sunday x reader#sunday x you#sunday x reader angst#sunday hsr#sunday angst#honkai star rail angst#honkai star rail x gender neutral reader
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↳ Index [Day 04 - Nipple Sucking]
Pairing: Brat to Good Boy!Jungkook x Mommy Domme!Reader
Genre: established relationship!AU
Kinks: nipple sucking, breast worship, thigh grinding, clothed sex, vaginal fingering, cumming in his pants, subby boy tears, drool, he accidentally bruises her nipple from being too eager, he is a lil brat at the beginning and bites her nipples jfsdjf, masochist!Jungkook, tongue spanking, hair pulling, subspace, cuddling & praises for aftercare
Wordcount: 3.8k
a/n: this is inspired by anonie’s idea this was actually not planned to be included in kinktober at first but i suddenly felt the unbearable urge to write this and so i did <3 have fun besties i’m a whore for him
You and Jungkook have been arguing. It wasn’t a terrible fight, nor a very burdening one, but it was still a fight. You say that Jungkook was in your magic kitchen and messed up the papers on your desk, while he insists that it wasn’t him. You know for a fact however that it was him and that he is being stubborn. You know because you noticed the ink stain on his shirt from accidentally dunking it into your inkpot.
“I don’t understand why you want to keep up this stubborn farce.”
“It’s not a farce, it’s fact. I didn’t mess up your papers.”
“So you were in my magic kitchen?”
“Ye- No? No, that’s not what I meant.”
“Mhm sure and I’m the queen of the moon.”
Jungkook huffs out air, pouting.
“Even if I was, theoretically, it doesn’t mean I was the one who messed up your papers. Maybe they were already messed up when I got there.”
“We’ve been over this, Kookie. How the hell did the ink stain get on your shirt then?”
“It’s from the love letters I was writing to you.”
“Wow, I can’t believe you. Flirting isn’t gonna work right now”, you say, but chuckle.
Jungkook grins boyishly, closing the distance between you and him.
“What’s a few papers anyway, right?” he says, fluttering his lashes at you.
“No, no stay away, you stubborn walnut.”
“I’m not stubborn.”
“Yes, you are. You’re even more stubborn than I am.”
Jungkook gasps, clutching his imaginary pearls.
“You take that back.”
“I’m taking it back once you admit that you were in my kitchen and messed up my papers.”
Jungkook sits down on the sofa and crosses his arms in front of his chest. He pouts, looking to the side like a sulking baby.
The thing is. You weren’t angry, nor really frustrated. In some weird way, you were amused. The fight is silly and so obviously not taken seriously by either party. In a peculiar sense, it almost feels like flirting. You and Jungkook find yourselves in a weird yet exciting dance of “who breaks first?” and you know exactly how to break him.
You begin opening the front lacing on your dress. Jungkook notices from the corner of his eyes, shifting on the sofa as inconspicuously as possible.
You sometimes like to wear pretty dresses from earlier time periods when at the estate. Your dress today consists of an outer layer and a flowy under dress. You let the outer dress fall to the floor, stepping out of it.
Jungkook shifts again, clearing his throat. He turns his head further to the side, acting as if he can’t see you.
Your under dress is made of a very thin cotton fabric, making it so perfectly translucent at the parts of your body which were more sinful than the rest. Yes, we are talking about your nipples and pubes here. Jungkook has a very hard time not looking at you. The collar of your under dress is closed with a ribbon. You open it as you strut to Jungkook.
You straddle his lap. His meaty thighs tense, jaw tightening.
One skilled move and the dress slips down your shoulders, revealing your chest to him.
Jungkook tries to turn his head even more but you stop him, nudging him to face you with two fingers gripping his chin.
His eyes ghost over your breasts but flit up to stare at your face obsessively. Even now he is stubborn enough not to admit that you have him charmed.
“Do I really have to force you to confess, sweet one?” you say, caressing him under his chin. Your eyes race between his.
“I didn’t mess up-”
“Hush now”, you silence him, stuffing your nipple into his mouth.
Jungkook mewls in surprise, eyes widened and hands stretching from his body. One second, two. He whimpers and sucks, eyes falling closed and hands grasping your waist. His thighs tremble as his body makes sense of the almost drug like effect your nipples have on him.
“There we go”, you get out, playing with his hair, “now you can’t lie anymore. You’re so much sweeter like this.”
Jungkook breaks away, craning his neck.
“I’m not ly-”
“Pssst.”
You force his head down and shove your other nipple into his mouth. Jungkook keens, sucking on it instantly. He drags his hands up your bared back, tickling goosebumps to the surface.
He feels good. Really good. His touch is so gentle while his mouth is so eager. He is still trying to hold back, to pretend as if he wasn’t utterly into this, but his mouth begins to betray him. He sucks but he also licks. Very sloppily and messily. And whenever he licks, he lets out a throaty purr, thighs tensing under your weight.
Jungkook changes sides, sliding his hands to your breasts to hold them. His tongue darts out, circling your nipple quickly while his fingers knead the flesh.
“That’s good. Your mouth is put to so much better use like this. It’s too pretty to be used for lying.”
“Shut up”, Jungkook murmurs and takes your nipple between his teeth to tug.
“Ah, hey”, you gasp, arching your back.
He grins against you. This little shit has the audacity to grin after biting your nipple.
You can’t let him get away with it. You twist a bundle of his hair and tug. Jungkook’s head tilts back, revealing his boyish grin and cloudy eyes. His lips are glossy from spit.
“Did you just bite my nipple, you little brat?”
“And if I did?”
“Then I might need to punish you.”
His grin turns into a smirk, his eyes glimmer. He slides his fingers to your nipples and pinches them both.
“Ah”, you flinch in surprise.
He chuckles, pinching them again.
“Hey, brat”, you gasp, slapping his hands away.
He laughs, looking so pleased with himself.
“That’s it. Tongue out.”
Jungkook obeys, sticking it out as far as possible. He can’t wait to have your nipples on it. Except that you don’t give him what he craves, you give his tongue a spank.
“Ahng”, he lets out, pulling it back instinctively. So you grab him by his chin and pull him closer, spanking his tongue as you do.
His wet muscle trembles and tenses. He mewls and sticks it out some more, accepting the next spank with a tense of his entire body. It was a tense of pleasure, the kind which builds up fire in one’s stomach.
One last spank and then you soothe it by dragging your tongue over it. Jungkook moans, fingers cradling the back of your head and lips closing around your tongue to kiss you. You kiss him back for one second, two seconds. No longer than that. It makes him desperate. Good. You like him desperate.
“Mhm”, you hum and pull him down into your chest by holding his cheeks between your thumb and fingers.
Jungkook returns to heaven in a mewl and his mouth wide open to take you in. He holds your breasts, wasting no time this round. He sucks as much of your softness into his mouth as he can fit, then moves his head back so you would slip out of him again. He sucks the entire time, resulting in pressure around your nipple so wonderful you sigh his name.
Jungkook purrs, repeating what he did on your other side. His name falls from your lips a second time, your hips grind back and forth on his thigh.
You had a fight once, didn’t you? Jungkook can barely remember. Neither can you. The charged tension which is still present keeps reminding you however. You want each other like crazy yet are too proud to give in already. That’s good though, means that Jungkook can suck on your breasts until you are sensitive.
“So good. So much better than when you’re bratty.”
Jungkook loves being punished though. He has a thing for it. He bites your other nipple and tugs.
You squeal and writhe, instantly pulling him away by his hair.
Jungkook looks up at you, grinning goofily.
“You did that to yourself, Mommy.”
“Do I have to punish you again?”
Jungkook sticks out his tongue and nods his head. Look at him waiting so eagerly. He wants to be punished and you want to punish him, but where is the fun in a punishment that is wanted?
No, you are going to ruin him another way. You lift your butt from his thigh to make up for the difference in height between his lips and your chest. Once in position, you slap your tits on his tongue, watching in delight how his eyes roll back and his mouth goes slack. You lift yourself and slap his tongue again then change sides to repeat it with punishing strength.
Jungkook moans, tongue shaking under your nipple. He curls the tip each time you are in contact with him, trying to get a feel of you that way. It is so good because he is shaking so much when does.
You lift yourself and slam down, pressing yourself closer afterwards to grind your nipple over his tongue.
He gurgles out a sound of need, fingers dimpling your hips as he grips you desperately.
You’ve got him. You wrap your arm around his head and push, smothering him with your breasts. Jungkook moans, sinking his face into them gladly and when you keep him there? He swears he actually spills into his pants. He moves his head from side to side as his eager mouth begins trying to be everywhere at the same time. His tongue is just as restless, wetting your entire chest as he swirls it over you aimlessly. He just loves to be like this. It is so obvious that he is currently worshiping your tits with no goal in mind. All that he lives and breathes for, are your breasts. And that he can use his mouth on them.
“So good, such a good wet mouth you have. So good” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair. You rock back and forth, coming to realise that there is something missing. You instantly make up for it by dropping down on his thigh again, pulling his head with you to make sure he wouldn’t leave your chest.
Jungkook lets you move him gladly, mewling into you as he mouths at your tender flesh eagerly. He is so dizzy. You smell so good and feel even better.
You rock your hips, moaning in bliss now that there is finally something that brings you pleasure. Now granted, Jungkook’s mouth already feels like heaven, but you want even more. His warm, wet mouth and his strong thigh in contrast. It is so good.
He is wearing a pair of white cotton pants today, they are oversized and comfortable and they feel so good against your warmth. Just a little rough, but still soft enough, also perfectly thin to let his body heat through. How goddamn addicting.
“Fuck this is so good now that you’re quiet. So good”, you moan, fingers feeling up his scalp and neck while Jungkook mewls into you, licking you eagerly.
He doesn’t even want to be really bratty anymore. Okay, maybe he tries it a little by grazing his teeth against your nipple but one corrective tug on his hair and he already gives up on it, burying his face in your softness with a defeated keen. His tongue soothes what he wanted to bite, his drool runs down your breasts but instantly gets slurped up by him.
“So good, fuck…” you moan breathily, hips dancing on him eagerly.
You didn’t truly think about the concept of grinding for pleasure before you met your lovers. How could something like that be fun? You were wrong. You were very wrong. You could honestly jump them all day every day. It is so addicting to find pleasure this way, to use their bodies until you find your highest peak.
Today is such a day. You can’t get enough of the friction and the pressure and how little movements are enough to build pleasurable tension in your stomach.
Jungkook is gone as well, high on a different kind of drug. He loves quarrelling with you when it is so obvious that it wasn’t serious. He loves it because he can be bratty and tease you and therefore get punished. He also loves the tension and how you look at him when you pretend to be annoyed. He loves it, but he can’t win against your breasts. He feels submissive and stupid and good. So good. As if he never ever wants to be bad again.
He whimpers, glossy lips sucking on your right nipple helplessly while his fingers grasp your hips. He sucks with such eagerness that hot electricity shoot through you.
“Is that nice?”
He nods his head, changing sides because he doesn't want to neglect even an inch from your perfect chest.
“Nice enough to confess your sins?”
Jungkook makes a sound.
You twist his hair and pull, denying him of the only heaven he craves right now.
“No please”, he gets out, looking up at you teary eyed and pouty lips parted. His cheeks are flushed, his dark hair messy. “Please.”
“How much do you want it?”
“So much, please.”
“Then confess.”
He mewls, shaking his head. You stop it with a thug of his hair. You lift your hips, guiding your nipples to his lips. He moans and opens his mouth, drooling in anticipation. He is panting quicker the closer you come.
Stop.
Jungkook tries to make up for the last inch of distance but you hold him in place by his hair.
“No please”, he squeaks out, spilling tears. He looks agonised and tortured, fighting your grip helplessly.
You cradle your right breast in your hand and move it around, showing him what he can’t do right now.
He pulls an expression of pain, letting out a sound which borders a sob.
“Confess and I’ll make all of this go away. The pain, the withdrawal, you can be freed of it.”
“Mommy please.”
“I know sweet one, I know”, you coo, caressing his cheek, “Mommy can help you, but you have to be honest with me.”
Jungkook sobs softly, squeezing his eyes shut. You broke him.
“I lied. I ruined your papers. I, I tried to look for a pen and, and accidentally knocked over the inkpot with my sleeve. I’m sorry.”
“See? Doesn’t the truth feel so much better?”
“Please”, he cups your tender breasts, eyes widening in pleading, “please I did what you asked of me.”
“You did. Go ahead then”, you allow him, letting go of his hair.
Jungkook takes the freedom instantly, burying his face back in your breasts with a loud moan. He squeezes them together in his hands, sucking and nibbling on you hungrily.
“Fuck, that’s so good”, you sigh, rolling your hips against his thigh. You bury your hands in his hair and drop your head against his own head, closing your eyes. “You feel so good, sweetie. Keep going.”
Jungkook agrees with a mewl, slipping his hands under your dress so he could hold your bared hips. No more fabric, he needs the sensation of your warm, soft skin. No panties. Sometimes in long dresses you go pantieless. Jungkook traces the naked paths where normally a piece of cotton would sit with tingling fingers. So soft. All of you.
“Why are you so soft, Mommy?” he mewls into you, lips trembling as they suck on your left nipple.
“You’re so sweet”, you sigh, smiling blissfully. You scratch his scalp slowly, melting in his touch. “Ah fuck”, you breathe, hips desperately trying to search for more friction. You are dripping on him, soaking his pants. It feels good, but starts to feel like not enough. You feel so empty, so goddamn empty.
He notices that you are using his thigh to pleasure yourself. His pants leg became very wet all of a sudden and your sweet scent tickles his nose. He wants to come up for air and ask if you feel good, but he can’t. He doesn’t want to miss even one second of your chest. But he has to. You are restless as if you are searching for more.
“Is it enough?” he asks, mouth barely gone from your chest.
“I don’t know, I ahm.”
“Lift your hips, Mommy.”
You follow his wish. Jungkook wiggles his arm under you so he can rest his hand on his thigh. He turns his palm up and sticks two of his fingers up.
“Holy fuck. Holy fuck, baby, holy fuck”, you babble, claiming what he offers instantly. You sink down on his fingers, pulling him into your chest at the same time.
You yelp in pleasure, Jungkook matches your enthusiasm, moaning into your chest as he takes your nipple back inside. Your walls are throbbing and trembling around his digits, taking him in eagerly.
“Holy fuck, Jungkook”, you croak, arching your back and twisting his hair.
This is finally scratching that itch. You are so stuffed, so goddamn full of him and it’s heaven. You chase the explosions of pleasure with eager rocks of your hips, filling the silence with moans and gasps. Like this, your clit is grinding on his lower arm while your spots inside are grinding on his fingers. They are so long, so perfectly girthy and groomed.
“Jungkook baby. Baby, this is so good, holy fuck”, you moan, dropping your face into his soft hair.
“Mommy”, the word is muffled and barely audible, his mouth is sloppy and restless on your chest. Even more than before. It is as if he was experiencing more pleasure as well, as if this is scratching his itch as well.
Truth is, it feels like that for him. You are so wet and so warm around his digits and so goddamn fucking soft. Jungkook goes insane because of it, lost enough in you that his own mind is betraying him and he swears that he can feel you on his cock. It’s impossible because he is crammed into his pants, but it feels like it. Wet, soft, warm.
“Mommy, soft. Mommy”, he whimpers, curling his fingers desperately.
“Urgh fuck”, you get out and drop into him, forcing his back to fall against the sofa cushions and for your nipple to leave his lips. “Sorry.”
“Is okay”, he mumbles, free hand rubbing your back and eager mouth sucking on your breasts in the new position.
“Curl them again.”
Jungkook obeys, moaning with you when this makes you shake and keen. Your hips move on him sloppily, your pussy keeps tightening around him.
“Fuck baby”, you rasp, grabbing the pillow edge and twisting it.
Jungkook spills tears, thighs shaking under you and cock throbbing in his pants. Your heart is racing like crazy. He can hear it, feel it too. He tries to get to it with eager sucks and wiggles of his head. It not only forces his lips and tongue to grind against your nipple but his nose as well. You are so sensitive at this point, you genuinely can’t feel any difference between stimulation on your clit and your nipples.
“Holy fuck, holy fuck, urgh fuck”, you chant, convulsing and shaking on him. You are close. Dangerously close.
Jungkook knows that you are feeling so ruined by it that he can barely move his mouth. He is ruined, running on nothing but you and everything that happens to your body when you are experiencing pleasure. Your raised pulse, your choppy breathing, your higher body heat and the array of sweet scents. He also swears that your skin becomes even softer than usually, contradicting the spots where the electricity is bundled. Your nipples hard and swollen, your clit enlarged and throbbing, your folds heated and engorged. So soft yet so plump in pleasure. Jungkook swears this is heaven and he promises silently to never ever be bratty again (he will be bratty again).
He curls his fingers and knows that this was it.
“Jungkook, baby”, you get out, tensing up as your pussy begins throbbing and clenching. Your voice pitches, coming out as squeaks and mewls. Your fingers twist his hair and hold him oh so close. This is so intense that you can’t see as it happens. Every single spot of concentrated pleasure was set off, forcing your entire body to be engulfed in flames.
Jungkook’s eyes roll back even closed. He sobs, truly sobs, losing against the warmth. He orgasms in his pants. No touch, no grind, no lick just your breasts and your pussy on his fingers was enough. He accidentally bruises your nipple from sucking too aggressively, free hand leaving a bruise on your waist as well. You don’t mind, riding the waves with him until you both come down together.
“Oh god, baby”, you get out, slipping off his fingers. You nudge them down into a relaxed position, sitting on his hand. You grind as slowly as possible, wanting to enjoy the warmth and pressure just a little longer.
Jungkook calms down in twitches of his body and little whimpers into your chest as he mouths at your breasts tiredly. He is so ruined, head dizzy and vision blurry, and your chest comforts him beyond comparison.
“How…” You clear your raspy throat. “...how are you?”
“Good”, he squeaks and shakes, sobbing softly as he hugs you closer, “feeling submissive.”
“Mhm”, you scratch his scalp soothingly, holding him safely, “good boy. You were such a good boy. Let it happen, you’re safe with me.”
“Mommy.”
“My good boy. You made me feel so good.”
He agrees with a nod of his head, hips twitching up. It calls your attention. You need to check something.
“Can Mommy touch you for a moment?”
He nods his head.
You cup his clothed and softened cock, squeezing it a little. Jungkook whimpers, hiding deeper in your chest to handle the overstimulation.
“Just as I had thought. You came in your pants. It’s soaking the fabric.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay, sweetie. Did you enjoy yourself?”
“So much.”
“Then that’s all that counts.” You give his soft dick one last caress then use the hand to ruffle his hair. “My good boy.”
Jungkook tugs his hand free and wraps both arms around you in a tight hug. He whimpers, dimpling your skin as he practically tries to melt you with him.
“I’m sorry for ruining your papers. I want to fix it, please.”
“Mhm, we’ll find a solution together. But for now, hush, okay?”
“Okay, oh god. Can we hold each other? Please, Mommy.”
“Of course, my baby.” You melt into him, resting your cheek on the crown of his head. “Let’s relax like this.”
“I love you so much ”
“I love you too, my baby. So much.“
#jungkook smut#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fanfiction#jungkook scenario#jungkook oneshot#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#sub!jungkook#bts smut#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts scenario#bts oneshot#bts x reader#bts x you#sub!bts#bangtan smut#bangtan fanfic#bangtan fanfiction#bangtan scenario#bangtan oneshot#bangtan x reader#bangtan x you#sub!bangtan#fanfic: kinktober24#fanfic: sanguis duology
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metanoia
synopsis: a love story that blossoms over two students’ shared love of drinking green tea and talking about the stars. w.c: 17k.
pairing: college!toji fushiguro x f!reader
warnings: mostly fluff with angst at the end! NSFW so MDNI!
a/n: this fic is my darling baby that has been re-released (in case anybody was thinking it looks familiar)! there are no major changes from the original fic! to both new and old readers, i hope you enjoy <3
art / divider / playlist / ao3
there was nothing else to do or say about fate, other than it was fixed.
no matter how hard you might try to change it, she never believed it could be. life was a series of scrawling numbers and greek letters, written by the hands of angels and god.
life was never going to be a straight line. rather, it was a scattered mess of ever-changing parabolas, dipping and rising above the axis like surfers on the waves of the sea.
but sometimes, just sometimes, you can hear what has been written about you.
if she tuned into things really hard, and listened beyond the banal noises that came with the plane of existence all humans exist in, she could hear it.
the scratching of a pen on paper, or perhaps a feather quill on a scroll?
yes, that sounded more like it.
she could hear the angels solving the puzzle they had been given – to balance the equation of her life. things had to be solved in a certain series of formulas to become a proven, tangible equation. the angels were still trying to prove her life, it seemed, and it was quite simply astounding that they were working so hard to try and solve it for her.
but the irrational part of her couldn’t help but think the worst.
what if they were bored?
she could certainly understand; there were many times when she’d been made to solve trivial questions, like calculating the speed of an aircraft, and she’d wished she could be anywhere but there in that moment. did the angels think that about her equation? would they ever get bored and just give up on her?
with that, the cold, beautiful reality that is life becomes apparent.
none of it was really personal to them, but she had a duty to live it right up until the equation was balanced and the last drop of ink ran dry.
but for now, it was golden hour.
that time of the day when the sun’s light softened, casting long shadows of buildings and trees across the pavement. honeyed rays of light filtered in through the window, refracting through the clear plastic display that showcased the sweet traybakes of the day. the cafe was quiet now, just after the hustle and bustle of regular work hours. most of the patrons were university students, drawn to the cafe for its convenient location near the main campus, where they downed their coffees like it was a drug to be taken multiple times a day.
she couldn’t judge them.
after all, she was included in that typical student caliber too. but instead of drinking her weight in murky brown caffeine, she preferred it to be of the green kind. more specifically, a cup of green tea took her brainpower much farther and higher than its more popular, teeth-staining counterpart.
and the perks of working for the very same cafe?
every cup of it was free and unlimited use for her – something she took advantage of every single shift.
the job couldn’t be more perfect for her.
although her shifts were daily, they were always scheduled during these quiet golden hours that extended into the stretch of moonlight, accommodating her university hours.
because choosing to study a degree in physics was certainly no joke, and she was grateful for any spare moment of peace to work on her assignments and reports. her manager never minded, leaving her to riddle away at her numbers, which went straight over their head, trusting her to still serve any customers coming in and close up the shop.
it was absolutely fine.
a simple, predictable routine – an equation she was perfectly happy to solve every single day.
until it wasn’t so easy.
| Φ |
some time later that night, the delicate bell above the doorway tinkled merrily.
it was well after the sun had dipped below the horizon and the moon had finally peeked out from behind dusty clouds, and so it had snapped her straight out of her trance. she had been listening to the music of mathematical constants singing to her of defined, set values from the sheet of paper placed against the wooden clipboard of ‘speciality beverages’.
it was him.
toji fushiguro.
the dark haired boy she had seen around campus, although he probably hadn’t noticed her flitting about between lectures.
he was unusually quiet and unfairly attractive. the boy who obviously frequented the gym close by, and came here to her little cafe afterwards. that much was obvious from the way the wet strands of hair stuck to his forehead, the spicy smell of whatever body wash he used, and the all black attire he always wore.
the very same same boy who she’d curiously asked about, only to be told that he kept to himself and didn’t really speak to anybody.
and she believed it.
she had never seen him walking with anybody else, or even bringing anyone along to his daily study sessions at the cafe. the way he grimaced at loud, boisterous students, typical of their age group, told her enough. that toji fushiguro didn’t seem to like people very much, and was perfectly happy with not being liked in return.
“hello,” she meekly piped out, her voice barely above a squeak. “what would you like?”
it was a silly question, she knew he would order his usual.
green tea.
just like her.
but it was a question she asked regardless, just in case his routine equation had somehow changed. you never know, perhaps the angels had miscalculated or wrote down a wrong number – it happens to everyone.
“green tea, please,” he grunted, not quite meeting her eyes.
he then sauntered off to his usual table by the window, and began pulling out his study material from his canvas bag.
she was grateful for the simplicity of their routine. there was nothing worse than preparing an elaborate order in the quiet of the night and disturbing the peace. brewing green tea was something she knew like the back of her hand, easy and peaceful like breathing. she strained the herbs as she poured it into a delicate ceramic cup, which the cafe insisted on serving it in, and brought it over to him.
toji muttered a small thank you, and she politely smiled, even though he never once looked at her. she walked back to her spot behind the counter, and placed the clipboard on her crossed legs, and resumed her musings.
such was their routine.
the both of them in their respective worlds within the same plane that was the cafe, sipping their green tea and whittling away at their education.
strangely, she almost felt honored that of all the cafes open late into the night, this was the one he picked to come to. even if the bitter, realistic part of her insisted that it was only because it was conveniently close to the gym. still, their equations followed the exact same sequence of numbers at that time every day, and she found that positively wonderful.
it was nearing 10:30p.m when she finally finished solving her report, and she looked up to see toji was completely engrossed in whatever he was working on.
he should have noticed the time by now.
he would have normally packed up his things at this point, but not before ordering one last cup of tea before heading off wherever it was he went to in the dead of night. probably back to his accommodation, she assumed, because he just didn’t seem like the type to show up to late-night parties full of booze and sweat.
she didn’t know what to say, or even how to say it.
the logical part of her brain was overthinking everything.
this just wasn’t the norm for them.
toji was supposed to have tidied up after himself, leave just the exact amount of money on the counter, and walk out the door without another word. she almost considered not even saying anything at all, biding her time until he simply realized himself and walked out.
until her legs moved of their, seemingly of their own accord, straight towards him.
perhaps it was all a result of the numbers being messily rubbed away and rewritten. he never even heard her; his black wired earbuds were firmly in his ears, and she wondered what sort of music it was that toji fushiguro listened to. she quickly tapped his shoulder, withdrawing her hand back to her side as quickly as she could.
toji practically jumped out of his skin as he turned to acknowledge her.
“sorry,” she apologized, looking pointedly over at the clock on the wall above him. “but we’re closing soon.”
toji frowned, like he didn’t really believe her, until he glanced at the digital clock on his laptop and jumped into action. “sorry,” he said rather awkwardly, hurriedly packing up his things as she stood at a respectful distance away.
“it’s no problem at all. please, take your time,” she replied as politely and delicately as she possibly could, looking away as he messily scraped his papers and notebooks into his bag.
his chair scraped uncomfortably across the floor, and he heaved his bag over his shoulder as he shoved a hand into his pocket, fishing for the exact change he needed. for a second, she thought, hoped, that he would hand it to her. but no, he almost jogged over to the counter and placed it right next to the black mug of green tea beside her clipboard.
toji paused, momentarily staring at her mug. she felt a flush of embarrassment, as if even he knew she wasn’t supposed to be drinking it out of a large mug. but he said nothing and rushed outside.
everything fell back into place according to the laws of the world, and seemed to right again.
| Φ |
there was something inherently uncomfortable about contemplating the future.
as summer rapidly approached, with only about four months left of the semester, she found herself forced to confront equations she didn’t want to solve. it was always during the night, when she should have been fast asleep, that she really tried to listen in on the angels scribbling away at her numbers. it was cheating really, an easy way out to hear the answers of what she was supposed to do.
perhaps if the end of her final year wasn’t so dreadfully final, then it would have been easier to formulate her own answers.
well, they weren’t really her own, but anyway.
she was in her own little bubble tonight, absentmindedly sipping her tea and tapping her pen against the clipboard. she knew the answer to the problem at hand, some menial question about what angle a beam of light would reflect at, and so she could afford to daydream and listen to the music of the numbers singing in her head.
it was quite easy to imagine a picture being painted from the numbers. why bother calculating the angle when you could visualize the light bending instead?
that was what mattered in the end, not just the face value of the number itself, but the tangible reality they represented.
there was no point in scribbling away at the numbers if you couldn’t paint a picture in your mind of the light itself or feel the thumping of sound waves reverberating through the surrounding medium.
there was only her and toji in the cafe now. he’d breezed past her earlier on the way in straight to his seat, dumping his bag on the table with the air of a student who was beyond fed up with their lot. she knew what it looked like; she’d seen it too many times throughout the years and had been through that position herself.
she tried not to make it obvious she was looking at him, or admiring the way his arms moved in the tight compression shirt he wore.
or the way his wet hair was slightly slicked back today.
and the way his annoyance sparked a beautiful flame of green in his eyes.
he looked over at her.
dammit.
she heard his footsteps approaching her, but her embarrassment forced her not to even look at him. instead, she focused heavily on pretending to be stuck on the paper in front of her.
“hey, uh, can i get a green tea?” he asked, his voice deep and undeniably addictive. “please?”
“oh yes, of course!” she replied swiftly, putting on her best customer service voice to shield her embarrassment as best as she possibly could.
toji shifted his feet from side to side, his hands in his pockets, and mumbled, “could i possibly have it in a mug, or something? it’s just… the teacups are really small.”
a deviation in the curve, an unexpected variable.
she answered anyway, perhaps a little unsurely, “oh, sure, yeah. no problem at all. is this one fine?” she lifted her mug awkwardly off the table, and toji looked at it and nodded.
“yeah, that would be great. is it, uh, more expensive?”
the way he asked it made her heart ache, as if he was ashamed of having to in the first place.
oh.
i’m so sorry.
she waved her hand at him, playing it off like a silly unnecessary question. “oh no, not at all. don’t worry about it.”
toji seemed visibly gladdened at this, the tension in his face releasing as his eyes brightened. he stood there, swinging on the balls of his feet, and she was quite surprised he was waiting for her to finish brewing the tea instead of bringing it over to him. she had to steady the slight tremor in her hand as he watched her brew the tea with practiced precision. after what seemed like an eternity, she placed the mug on a small plate and carefully handed it to him.
“thanks,” he said quietly, his eyes fixated on the mug and the thin wisps of steam wafting from it. then, like an afterthought that was actually painfully thought out, he added, “appreciate it.”
she could have sworn the corner of his lip lifted, and she almost lost her footing as she sat back down on her stool. though she knew it was impossible, it seemed as if time had been stuck in that moment, the laws of physics crying out for some sense of normalcy to resume.
and so she cleared her throat, pulling free time from where its coat was stuck on the doorknob. “no worries. let me know if you need anything else.”
but he was already walking back to his seat.
firmly slotting back the numbers and variables into the places they were supposed to be.
newton’s first law of motion states that an object at rest or uniform motion will continue to stay that way unless acted upon by a net external force.
or the law of inertia, as it was also called, and she much preferred that instead. it was what she thought of every time she saw toji making his way to the door of the cafe from the window, taking large, purposeful strides like he knew where he always wanted to go at all times. he was that object in uniform motion, his life seemingly constant without any real deviations. she thought of it every time he walked out of the door too, and wondered if there would ever be anything significant enough to achieve a large enough force to change his trajectory.
so what large enough force had been applied to make him finally ask for a change to how he drank his tea?
maybe he had never considered it before, never realized there was any other option other than the abysmally tiny teacup he had used before. perhaps the fact that he had stopped and seen her mug the night before had opened up new possibilities for him.
whatever it was, it didn’t really matter, because he looked so much more at ease now that he wasn’t hanging on for dear life to a teacup too small for those hands of his.
those big, attractive hands, with good, strong veins running through them.
toji looked up at her from behind his laptop.
the tip-taps of her pen became just a notch louder, and she bit her lip, almost crossing her eyes as she focused a little too hard into the hole of the letter ‘a’ in the word ‘angle’.
dammit.
| Φ |
it was march, and the cherry blossoms that grew around campus were now blossoming in full swing.
what little free time she had between university work, endless laboratory reports, and working at the cafe, was spent walking around the town and parks. while hearing the songs of physics and numbers was her way of life, sometimes it was nice to wind down and appreciate the beauty of biology and chemistry.
to see how the rain that fell from the skies was soaked up by the weed flowers thriving in the cracks of the pavement. they were tiny little warriors, persevering in the face of the hundreds of people who surely walked this path, avoiding death by being crushed.
the air was cool, and it was late enough in the day to make it feel much cooler than it should have been. she rubbed her arms through her jacket and picked up the pace. it was a week break in the semester, and it was much busier than it should have been for that time of the day. her manager had offered her more hours to work during the break, and she had mistakenly accepted the offer instead of taking some time for herself to do what she liked.
she entered the cafe, the little bell chiming, and smiled at her colleague, who seemed rather grateful that they weren’t alone to deal with the swarm of students enjoying a relaxing coffee. it was rather different from the anxious energy that usually accompanied students in here, but it was a welcome change to see unburdened smiles before the exam season hit them all in full merciless force.
together, they took on the onslaught of orders from all the customers walking into their quaint little cafe in the middle of campus. she couldn’t remember the last time she’d made such complex teas, brewing flavor combinations she couldn’t even concoct in her wildest dreams.
by the end of the rush, with her colleague having finished their shift, she was left in a frazzled state of tea stains and sticky sugary syrup.
and that is precisely when toji fushiguro decided to walk through the door.
she almost froze, a mixture of shock and embarrassment washing over like a bucket of ice-cold water. why, she’d never seen him in the cafe while the sun was still in the sky, and he wasn’t even dressed in his usual fitness attire either. instead, it was a black jumper and jeans. this was most certainly not part of the equation at all; she had never even considered to calculate the probability of such an event occurring.
“hey,” he greeted, as casual as the jeans he was wearing, while fidgeting with the hem of his jumper.
“hi,” she answered, dusting off some imaginary dust from her apron because she didn’t know what else to do with her hands. “the usual?”
toji seemed somewhat surprised at this. “yeah, please.”
she couldn’t lie; it was such a welcome relief to make something so simple amidst the chaos that was the ever-changing trends of beverages. had the universe written an additional formula just to provide her with just a moment’s respite?
or was it the law of attraction being employed?
no, that was surely wishful thinking.
there was no way that toji fushiguro had anything in common with her.
“are you sitting in or taking away?” she prompted, the extra words slipping through her lips.
he thought about it for a second before nodding his head, “uh, yeah, takeaway please.”
“no problem,” she replied smoothly, amazed at how well she was deviating from their usual interactions, and poured the tea into a disposable cup. “there you go.”
toji mumbled a ‘thank you’ as he carefully placed the coins on the counter, his hands completely enveloping what she would have once considered a large cup.
what compelled her to say the following words, she didn’t really know, but she called out in a hopefully not-so-loud voice as he turned to leave, “enjoy the blossoms!”
just why?
why would you say that?
she was even more mortified when toji simply walked out the door without sparing her a second glance. the universe was cruel for adding that into the equation, and she could have sworn, to add further insult to injury, that two girls had watched their exchange and were snickering.
enjoy the blossoms?
stupid, stupid, stupid!
| Φ |
for the rest of the day, she felt as if the second law of thermodynamics very much applied to her.
as she recounted her absolutely horrific exchange with toji, she felt the heat of the universe pressing down on her isolated being, causing her atoms inside of her to bounce of the walls that was her skin, sending her into a more and more disorganized chaotic state of existence. she actually hoped for once that the deviance of the otherwise constant line would continue to do so, and that toji wouldn’t come to the cafe later on that night.
then she could resume solving the equation as it was meant to be solved for the next night, and she could continue on as if nothing ever happened in the first place.
so when their routine did end up resuming its normalcy, and toji walked into the cafe with his dark wet hair and canvas bag, she was too mortified to even speak to him, despite him being the only customer in the shop. she got straight to work brewing him his tea, avoiding even looking anywhere near him as he set his things down at the table.
her lack of attention, for once, almost caused a head-on collision.
“hey, oh shit! sorry,” toji cussed, even though it was completely her fault, as he stopped whatever momentum he had in his body from crashing into her.
she hissed as the scalding tea splashed onto her fingers. “oh, no, i’m sorry! are you alright?”
“yeah, don’t worry about it.”
with a wobbly, quivering lip, she went around him and placed his mug on the table, being careful to avoid placing the wet bottom anywhere near his papers. it was there she caught a glimpse of some messily scrawled-out calculations on a piece of scratch paper, and her brain immediately started to sing.
no, don’t stare. it’s rude.
“sorry again,” she whispered, looking straight at the ground and being careful to not step in his way again.
toji never even made a sound, and she didn’t dare to look up to see if he was looking at her. she ran her finger under some cold water before taking her usual seat at the counter, and picked up where she left off on summarizing her lectures. it was perfectly quiet now, save for the scratching of her pen on paper and toji typing away on his keyboard. this was peaceful, easy, and– hold on. why could she hear the sound of the music?
“hey, sorry to interrupt,” toji interjected, making her jump. “do you have any sandwiches or something left?”
“oh! no, i’m sorry, what’s on display is what’s left,” she answered shakily, putting her pen down on the counter. “i, um- the protein balls are pretty decent, if you like that sort of thing.”
“oh, sure. yeah,” he murmured, looking at the several flavors that were available. “I’ll take the, uh, peanut flavor. that any good?”
she smiled softly, despite the throbbing sensation in her finger. “yeah, it’s not bad. you want two?” he nodded, and she wrapped them both up in a paper bag as he procured out coins from his pocket.
toji dug around some more, patting down his pockets to make sure there was definitely nothing lingering in there, and his stomach audibly growled. the air became a touch too awkward, and she stared at the sad-looking change on the counter.
she slid the bag over to him with quiet understanding, and gave him the kindest smile she possibly could.
“hey, don’t worry about it. it’s on the house,” she encouraged. “sorry, i should have said that from the beginning.”
toji shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “oh no, i couldn’t do that. sorry, i’ll just leave it. i thought i had enough change.”
she pushed the bag further towards him. “it’s fine, i insist. please.”
he slowly took the bag, as if he wasn’t sure that it was real, or that it was maybe going to bite him. “thanks,” he said quietly, and retreated back to his seat, packing up his things, while she sat there trying to will her atoms back into their rightful place.
“thanks again,” toji rumbled softly as he held the door halfway open. “i’ll see you tomorrow?”
“o-oh yeah! yeah, see you tomorrow,” she stuttered back.
with that, he closed the door behind him, the bell tingling a beautiful farewell for him, and she was left with the atoms of her thumping heart completely dispersing into the atmosphere as she frantically tried to claw them back down.
| Φ |
tomorrow came and went, and they had settled into a slightly different flow of their routine.
instead of waiting for her to bring over his tea, toji now waited at the counter for her to hand him a large, steaming mug of his fix. they never spoke anymore than what they did before, but there was something that had changed between them. something so subtle that it couldn’t be defined properly, but she knew it was there, and she hoped toji knew it too.
it was april now, and the flurry of students cramming for their exams in may were in full swing. when she wasn’t at the cafe, she was holed up in her shared accommodation, buried underneath a blanket that may as well have been a black hole swallowing her whole. there, she studied for the last set of exams she would ever have to sit at university, but she tried not to dwell on that fact.
not that she didn’t study at the cafe, but toji’s presence added an extra dynamic that made it difficult to focus as well as when she was alone.
despite her best efforts, she couldn’t help but constantly glance at him when she was confident he wasn’t looking. right now, she could tell he was silently stressing over his exams too. spending so long in silence with another person meant she could tell the slight quirks in his face that signalled a changed in trajectory of emotion.
currently, the deep frown lines etched in his forehead meant that he was monumentally stuck on something. he’d been like that ever since he powered up his laptop and stared at the screen, the dim light casting an artificial, cold glow on his face.
once again, she didn’t know what compelled her to do what she did next.
maybe it was the fact she knew he had barely touched his tea, and it was surely cold by now. or maybe it was the desire to momentarily distract him from his frustration by bringing him a warm, fresh brew. whatever it was, her body was moving according some new formula the angels had applied, and she found herself simply walking over without saying anything and placing a piping hot mug next to his laptop.
“huh? oh, thanks,” toji said slowly, daze-like, as if he wasn’t sure she was real and doing this.
she smiled softly, quickly glancing at the scratch paper in front of him, and oh no – he wasn’t composing the music correctly at all.
“that isn’t the answer,” she stated simply, looking back up at him. he frowned again, momentarily confused, until she pointed at his paper and said, “you’ve calculated this wrong. that isn’t the right equation to use.”
toji looked back down at his paper, sighing softly, and rubbed his face as he seemed to sink deeper and deeper into his chair. she couldn’t understand it; there was absolutely nothing to be ashamed of in getting a question wrong. she’d done it before herself many times, and more than likely would continue to do so.
“sorry, i-uh, i’m not very good at mathematics,” he mumbled shyly, and her heart started to crumble like a biscuit.
she pulled her pen out of her pocket and clicked it once. “no need to be sorry. do you want me to show you how to do it?”
toji nodded wordlessly, and slid the paper over to her, angling the laptop so she could see the question displayed. it was about calculating the speed of an athlete's arm as they threw a ball through the air, but he hadn’t used the correct equation, nor the correct standard units. she quickly wrote out every step of how to solve it, did a final check that her mental calculations were correct against his gray calculator, and slid the paper back to him.
“there, be careful with your units and don’t forget to include them. most of my professors have strict marking against not writing the proper ones, i don’t know about yours, but it might be better to be safe than sorry,” she explained, her throat tightening as he intently looked at her working out.
it felt personal on another sort of level, and strangely intimate.
he seemed to be taking his time studying it, with a slightly blank look, as if what she had done was still going well over his head. “yeah, good point. thank you,” was all he mustered, and he tilted his head at the scratch paper.
“do you want me to explain anything?” she prompted, half expecting him to pretend that he understood everything. that would have been typical of a student at university - faking it until they somehow made it.
so she was pleasantly surprised, but not at all unwilling to explain it when toji nodded again, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks. she tried to recall how her teachers in high school had taught her these concepts, trying to adapt their tone of voice: patient and understanding. she leaned over to be more at eye level at him, trying to seem less intimidating, and their close proximity was sending her brain into overdrive.
“i hope this makes more sense now,” she said as she wrapped up the explanation.
toji’s lips formed a small ‘o’ shape, and the scar gracing them resembled the greek letter phi, but with the line running over to the right side instead of the middle. if she didn’t need anymore proof that the boy sitting in front of her was perfect, then the angels had just thrown in the winning factor.
phi, the perfect golden constant, now belonged in her mind only to toji fushiguro.
“uh, yeah actually,” he hummed, seemingly appreciative, his eyes sparkling against the dim lighting of the cafe. “thanks so much.”
she couldn’t help it, but she grinned widely. “no problem at all.”
she started to walk away, biting her lip when she turned her back to him, already feeling the bitter sting of disappointment that things would probably be back to normal after yet another deviation. until toji called out, “you’re really good at this. what do you study?”
“physics,” she replied, hoping the shock wasn’t too evident in her voice. “what about you?”
“P.E.,” he answered, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. she had to try very hard not to stare at how nice his biceps looked. “i stupidly decided to add a sports biomechanics module as my optional one. kinda regretting it now.”
toji chuckled halfheartedly, and she almost swooned, but opted to tilt her head to the side and say, “oh, but don’t you find it fascinating? it’s the numbers behind the real output of an athlete.”
“oh, well i never really thought about it that way.” he seemed to be genuinely pondering her outlook on the matter, staring hard at the numbers before him, and she felt the blood rising to her cheeks. toji looked back up at her and smiled a devastatingly handsome smile. “i suppose it makes sense for you to think like that.”
she didn’t really know how to reply to that except an, “i guess so,” and then added a polite follow-up of, “what sort of sport do you, then?”
“judo and jujutsu,” toji replied smoothly and completely casually. “i train at the gym before i come here.”
“oh yeah? that’s quite intense.”
“not so much if you enjoy it, really.”
“easy for you to say. you’re obviously in much better shape than the rest of us.”
she almost cringed externally at that.
obviously much better shape? why on earth would you say obviously, stupid?
but toji only chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “hard work, i guess.” he mumbled, staring back at his paper.
she glanced up at the time, noting that it was almost time to close. “well, i’m sorry, but you might have to practice it yourself at home.”
he looked panicked for a second, his eyes darting over to the clock. “oh, yeah. probably.” and started to slowly pack up his things.
she didn’t want to observe him anymore than she already had, so she busied herself by washing their mugs and quickly wiping down the counter for the morning shift, while toji was taking his time neatly packing away his things. was it wishful thinking that perhaps he was stalling. whether it was or wasn’t, she left him to it, switching off the lights everywhere except at the entrance. she swept her eyes over the cafe to make sure she hadn’t missed anything before heading out.
toji stood beside the door, his eyes flitting about anywhere but her, obviously waiting for her to finish locking up. she tried to ignore the fluttering in her chest and smiled awkwardly at him as he finally met her gaze. he shuffled outside before she did, hands in his pockets as he looked up at the nights sky, the silver moon shining between stringy wisps of clouds.
he looked like a scene straight from a movie – a movie where a beautiful boy was up against the weight of the world.
she could see it all clearly now: his scuffed up trainers, canvas bag with dirt stains scraping the bottom of it, the hole in his shirt near the hem. and yet, she knew he had real strength, the quiet sort of kind, that would completely surprise anybody that decided to come at him.
she locked the door behind her, the keys jangling, disturbing the relative quiet of the street. the distant whooping of boisterous students, no doubt drinking and partying away their stress, could be heard a little ways off into the distance. the bright light of the 7-11 across the streets flickered, and she briefly considered buying some cheap dinner before heading home.
she cleared her throat and gave him a small smile. “well, good luck studying.”
toji breathed out a half-hearted laugh. “thanks, i’ll need it.”
“if you’re still having trouble with your calculations, you can always ask me tomorrow,” she reassured, feeling bold enough to assume that his equation would continue to equate to hers.
he seemed to hesitate, as if debating something within his head, and replied, “yeah, sure.” but his tone left much to be desired, and she was already kicking herself for being so direct. “sounds good.”
she bit her lip and mumbled a weak ‘goodnight’ before walking straight into the 7-11 to escape.
| Φ |
the next night in the cafe, after quite a long day of punching numbers into her calculator and her eyes swimming with all sorts of symbols, she was contemplating the sheer power of a supernova explosion.
it was golden hour, and toji had arrived much earlier to study. his deviations from the norm weren't so jarring anymore, and she’d almost come to sort of expect them at this point. he’d actually met her eyes as she prepared his tea, and even offered her a smile and a ‘thank you’.
the time passed on quickly, and soon enough, it was just her, toji, and two other customers – fellow students – inhabiting the same area. it was around 9:17p.m., the usual time for it to be a sacred silence. so when four boys staggered through the door, the bell cried out aggressively from the force of them nearly ripping open the door, completely tearing her from whatever daydreams she had been lost in.
they were cruel, uncaring about her or the other patrons they were disturbing with their raised voices and boisterous behavior. she kept her cool, not letting their jeers and sly comments get to her as she prepared their orders, wanting to get them out of the cafe as soon as she possibly could. one of them was particular unnerving, staring at her more than the others did, a creepy smirk on his lips and dangerous glint in his eyes.
he was like a black hole, and she felt as if she was about to be swallowed alive.
she felt like she couldn’t breath.
as if her body didn’t remember the biomechanical process to allow her to expand her lungs and fill them with sweet air.
were the angels in serious danger of their calculations becoming completely wrong? was her equation to become something twisted and tragic by the end of the night?
when the group left, the evil boy had glanced over his shoulder to give her one last indecipherable look before he took off at a run after his friends. she exhaled shakily, willing her body to remember how to breath, and decided to distract herself by cleaning any and all random nooks and crannies she could find in an effort to distract herself.
oh how she hated them those stupid, idiotic boys – and that their words and manners had such an impact on her.
she’d worked herself into such a state that she hadn’t even noticed toji standing awkwardly at the counter until she turned to sip at her ice-cold tea, and almost yelped in surprise.
“hey,” toji greeted gently, delicate raindrops against a pane of glass. “it’s eleven.”
and so it was as she noted the time on the clock. she wiped her brow and discarded the now completely blackened cleaning cloth into the rubbish. “sorry, i’ll just get the keys now. you head on.”
“no, it’s okay,” he hummed. “take your time. i’ll be outside.”
when she finally finished the usual locking-up routine, toji had resumed that vision of perfection from the previous night, and it was almost impossible to even consider, but he was even more dreamy than before. toji had to have been carved by michealangelo; born of marble and beauty, and forced to to live in this plane of existence. in some rural countryside of japan, at a public university campus, surrounded by bog-standard students trying to scrape through life.
she felt he didn’t really belong here, as if he was already slipping through her fingers, even though he never really was between them to begin with.
“see you tomorrow,” she said in farewell, giving him a small wave and already walking away.
the loud thuds against the pavement reverberated the immediate vicinity, and toji huffed as he caught up to her, “hey, uh, whereabouts do you live?”
“not too far, about a ten-minute walk away,” she replied, almost floored at the fact that he had just run after her. “why?”
“just… you ok if i tag along? i could use the company.”
“…sure?”
they walked side by side in silence, and her mind was going into complete overdrive. she was trying so hard not to be completely floored that somehow, on a random April night, toji fushiguro was walking her home. it was obvious that he was lying about company – perhaps not an outright lie, but it definitely wasn’t the whole truth. time seemed to have passed quicker than it should have, and before she knew it, they had arrived at her accommodation. toji seemed to hover, looking over his shoulder, his body seemingly tense.
“well, this is me,” she announced, jingling her keys for good measure. “huh, are you okay?”
toji was glaring into the darkness, into the twisted labyrinth of twists and turns in between buildings, only really half-listening. “yeah,” he replied tersely, his fists clenching. “you’re staying at home tonight, right?”
she nodded nervously, suddenly hyperaware of the deep, foreboding inkiness of the night. “mhm.”
he turned to her, verdant eyes simmering with something nearly as dark as the sky. “good, i’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“bye, toji.”
but he was already striding off into the labyrinth, off to face the dirt and coal thrown at him, when he himself was made of marble and gold.
| Φ |
a week after toji had walked her home, she had her first final exam, during which the whole time her thoughts were consumed by him.
of toji fushiguro.
toji and his eyes of forests and jade. of his sculpted body, and all the angles and lines that made up his face. his scar that made him golden and perfect, her phi. of how she had seen him on campus the next morning after he walked her home, wearing a white t-shirt and jeans, split knuckles raw and red against the marble of his skin. how he’d finally noticed her outside the cafe for the first time and actually smiled at her.
her friends – more so acquaintances who had happened to become close simply because they were on the same course –had noticed the exchange. when toji had walked well out of earshot, they had bombarded her with hushed whisper-yells of excited “oh my god!" and "how did you even get him to smile? i’ve never even heard him speak.”
and she’d shrugged them off, fending off their curiosity with, “oh, he comes to the cafe all the time, that’s all.”
she didn’t want to get into all the details of toji and her. well, just toji really – there was no 'and her'. their time together was a coveted treasure, and she was strangely possessive over it.
that night, as she handed toji his tea, she plucked up the courage to ask, “what happened to your hands?”
toji automatically looked down at them, flexing them as if even mentioning them made them burn with pain. “oh, nothing, just went a bit too hard at training.”
it didn’t occur to her not to believe him until she was staring blankly at the last question of her exam.
she thought of the evil boy in the cafe, of toji staring down into the darkness and looking over his shoulder as if demons were just behind them, and he was the only thing keeping them at bay. maybe he really was doing just that. maybe that’s why he had continued to walk her home every night, as their graphs continued to overlap even more closely together.
she came out of that exam feeling as if some sort of hidden revelation was waiting to be discovered, and by god, how much she loved to solve for a new equation.
toji was already waiting for her at the cafe when she arrived for her shift, an occurrence steadily getting earlier. he immediately took note of her coming in, and his eyes lit up. she smiled brightly at him, offering him two thumbs up, to which he grinned and pushed away his laptop before approached her.
“so, it went well then?” he prompted, the ghost of a smile still playing on his lips.
she poured them both two mugs of tea, and held hers out towards him. “yeah, it wasn’t too bad actually. cheers to that!”
toji chuckled and clinked his mug with hers, the both of them blowing on the tea before sipping it tentatively. he went back to his table, resuming whatever he had been doing, and leaving her to serve the customers. that was perhaps the only drawback of toji arriving earlier - that their time spent together was interrupted. but it also served as a tantalizing countdown to when it was just the two of them.
obviously, their dynamic had shifted dramatically in the past week, and they’d settled into an easy-flowing sequence – something that felt as if phi would be, so perfectly balanced and positively golden. toji seemed to want to unveil the mystery of his equation to her, but bit by bit, which she didn’t mind at all. she loved slowing figuring out the scale of his axes, plotting all his points together, and finally drawing the curve that connected them all.
toji fushiguro could only be described as steady, a mountain that would never bend or break, his roots so profoundly deep that she had to really dig to see them.
he loved his body, but not in a superficial way, but more that it was something he was in control of and could continually improve. she discovered that he drank green tea not just because it was healthy, but because it was cheap. how most of his gym wear had varying sizes of holes, and he carried around a tiny sewing kit in his bag at all times because he sometimes only noticed one when he was out and about.
most importantly, today he had divulged what he wanted for his future.
“i want to get out of this hellhole as soon as i can,” toji had sighed exaggeratedly, stretching his neck backwards. whenever the last customer had left the cafe, he’d drag a chair over to the edge of the counter. not so directly in front of it that he was blocking any customers, but just enough so that they were sitting across from each other.
she rolled her eyes playfully at him, nibbling at the cap of her pen. “oh, how original. you and every other student in this university.”
“well yeah, obviously, but not as much as me,” he retorted.
“what make you so different, then?”
“i’ve always wanted to leave, even before i got here. i want to to go and live in tokyo.”
“tokyo, huh? and what do you wanna do there?”
“well, eventually i want to open my own dojo and teach jujitsu, but i’d probably have to start out as an instructor.”
“oh wow, you’ve got a solid sort of plan. have you always wanted to do that?”
“yeah, i really hate it here.”
and he’d gone quiet, but she didn’t press him. instead, she focused on her textbook because there were still exams to be studied for, and waited for toji to come back to her. where he went in those moments, she didn’t know. there was something lurking in the shadow of the mountain, and he still seemed to be fighting against it even now.
she knew he’d come back to her when he’d lean in closer, cheek against his palm, and try to make sense of whatever diagrams appeared on the pages she was reading.
“that looks cool,” toji murmured, pointing at whatever had piqued his interest. “what is it?”
and she discovered, not that it was a real shock, that toji was so very curious. he wanted to know things, he liked to know how things worked, and he was really clever. she would explain as best as she could, and toji would follow along diligently, nodding his head every so often and asking the occasional question. many people probably underestimated just how smart he really was, but she never did.
“this is a diagram that sort of shows what einstein’s theory of general relativity is all about.”
“ah right, it’s pretty famous then isn’t it? cuz it’s einstein's.”
“haha, i suppose so, yeah.”
“what’s it about?”
she bit her lip and tilted her head, placing her finger as a makeshift bookmark and closed the book between her fingers. “it’s about… how really big objects like planets and stars cause gravity by bending space-time.”
“bending space-time is gravity?”
“it’s because the bigger object has caused smaller ones to be pulled closer to it, if that makes sense.”
toji nodded slowly and laughed. “it’s a bit over my head. how you perfectly understand it is beyond me though.”
“i wouldn’t say perfectly,” she replied bashfully. “but i think it’s a beautiful theory.”
“you think every theory is beautiful.”
“haha! no, well yes, but that’s besides the point!”
“well, what is the point?”
“that something has had such a profound impact, because it’s so big and larger than life that it’s impacting all the other small things around it and pulling them in closer to it.”
toji smiled, the kind of smile he had when he was more vulnerable and soft, when his barriers were down and forgotten about. the way he looked at her made her body jolt with thousands of little lightning bolts.
“yeah,” he mused thoughtfully. “yeah, that is kinda beautiful.”
| Φ |
five days.
that’s how long it had been since she’d seen toji, and she missed him more than she cared to admit, even to herself.
it wasn’t ideal, right smack in the middle of the exam season, to be so distracted by a boy, but toji fushiguro wasn’t just any boy. he was the boy who she spent every day with, and the past two weeks had been a rosy dream as they talked more and more. it was now the middle of may, and she was almost done with sitting all of her exams. she should have been thinking of her future, about a solid career plan, and where she wanted to live.
but no, all she could think of was the laws of physics and toji fushiguro, and counting down the days until she could see him again.
he was currently out on a placement excursion, teaching ten-year-old kids during their regular sports curriculum. it was almost comical, and she couldn’t help but smile to herself whenever she thought of toji surrounded by a bunch of wide-eyed children. he’d already been groaning about it before he left, about this and that, and how much he didn’t like silly kids and their silly faces.
“what are you smiling about?” one of her friends whispered suspiciously, leaning in closer to her so as not to disturb anybody else in the library.
she shook her head, and told a little lie, “oh, just about how close we are to finishing uni. it’s sort of unbelievable.”
her friend raised a brow, clearly not believing her. “sure, and it doesn’t have anything to do with fushiguro?”
“ugh, why do you keep bringing him up all the time? i told you there’s nothing going on there.”
“i’ll believe that when i stop seeing you smiling like an idiot in love. now, c’mon and focus on this.”
love?
no, no. it wasn’t love.
not quite yet, at least, but she knew it was getting there.
she felt a slight tremor in her chest, traveling all the way to the tips of her fingers and then the ends of her toes like an electric current across a wire. it was unfathomably scary to admit it, but it was nothing but the truth.
she was falling for toji fushiguro.
she ducked her head down, her pencil scratching against her notepad as she attempted yet another sample question, endeavouring to distract herself from all thoughts of him for the rest of the study session. as soon as she had to leave for the cafe, she practically shoved her things into her bag and almost ran towards it. toji should be back today, with it being friday and the school week coming to an end.
when she got there, her manager was behind the counter in the midst of serving a customer, and the cafe was reasonably busy. the overwhelming aroma of coffee wafted through her nose, warm and inviting, and familiar. she wondered if toji thought of her whenever he smelt coffee.
she certainly hoped that he did.
“great you’re here,” her manager beamed, handing her an apron to tie around her waist. “i was wondering if you would like to take some time off whenever you finish your exams? my nephew is coming to visit, and i’d like to put him to work instead of him lazing about all day.”
she was immediately hit with a sheer sense of panic. if she didn’t work, then how else was she supposed to see toji? it was so utterly embarrassing and pathetic, that she was so enamored with this boy that she was willing to work just to see him. but then she thought about what would happen after graduation, and how they realistically would not be seeing each other – perhaps ever again.
“sure, that’s alright with me,” is what she finally said after a moment's hesitation, but her manager obviously picked up on her hesitant tone.
“never have i ever seen a student who didn’t want time off work,” they chuckled, hand on their hip. “this has got to do with that dark haired boy, doesn’t it?”
heat creeped up into her cheeks, and she busied herself with pouring a cup of coffee for a customer, as her manager gazed at her in bemusement. “no,” she squeaked out.
“oh to be young again,” they said in a sing-song voice. “don’t worry about not working though, i’m sure that boy would follow you anywhere you go. i’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
she didn’t quite know how to respond to that.
when the moon had risen high into the sky and the shop was empty, she waited and waited for toji. he was late, and he should have been there by now. or maybe he wouldn’t come? she thought it might have been quite bold to assume he would have tonight. he was probably tired from a whole week of teaching, and maybe he had decided to just go home and rest. she couldn’t blame him for that.
but that didn’t stop the soul-crushing disappointment from tearing her in two.
the sky must have felt her distress, because soon enough the pitter-patter of rain falling against the roof ensued. maybe metaphysical pain was real, and maybe she would spend her whole life trying to prove her theory. what a tragic future, she thought, and sniffled as she locked the door behind her.
and then she turned around, and toji was standing there, his chest heaving.
for a moment, they just faced each other. he was all wet, black hoodie all soggy and weighed down, sticking to him like a second skin. his green eyes were alight, looking at her with a mixture of nerves and something else she couldn’t place. toji exhaled shakily, his lashes fluttering as he blinked fast.
“sorry,” he mumbled. “i tried to get here sooner, but there was an accident and my train was delayed.”
her heart melted; she felt as if she was one with the rain puddles in the dips of the pavement, one with the water pooling beneath toji’s feat. could it be love already? maybe her loved ones, wiser and older than her would have said it was, but she felt too young to know it.
and yet, here was a boy standing in front of her, who had run through the rain and labyrinth of buildings to get here.
“oh, toji,” she gushed, instinctively opening up her umbrella and shielding him from the torrent of the sky. “you’ll get sick.”
she didn’t realize just how close they were together, trapped underneath the tiny space, until toji was staring down at her. a water droplet dropped from his hair, over the ridge of his nose, caressing over his cupids bow and parted lips, all the way down to his chin and onto her lip.
she shivered, feeling as if their lips may as well have touched.
“it doesn’t matter,” toji whispered, in that deep, almost sad tone that belonged only to him, and she finally admitted internally just how much she missed his voice. “it’s only water.”
they stood there staring at each other for a heartbeat too long, until she broke the silence with, “let’s get out of here.”
and then they set off at a slow, shuffling pace, the backs of their hands and shoulders brushing against each other, and she thought a live spark might just ignite off her skin. the rain sounded like little stones tumbling off the top of the umbrella, and the smell of the wet pavement served as little momentary distractions against the all-consuming feeling of toji beside her.
she didn’t want it to end, and so when they reached the entrance to her accommodation, and turned to face him. “you can’t go home like this. do you want to come inside and dry off?”
toji’s eyebrows shot up, and he almost looked like a deer in the headlights. he was fighting within himself; she could see it in the way his hand flexed, his knuckle touching hers. “i’ll just make your floor wet though,” he muttered, looking down at the ground.
“it doesn’t matter,” she urged, and added a desperate. “please.”
that seemed to snap him out of whatever internal deliberation he was having, and toji nodded. “okay then.”
she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face, almost immediately turning towards the door to hide most of it from him, taking out the keys from her pocket and fumbled with one hand to grab the correct one for her door. his proximity behind her was beyond distracting, her back felt like the south side of a magnet, and toji was her north. it would be too easy to fall back into him, and so she endeavored to root her feet into the ground and resist the urge.
she finally opened it and they passed through the unwelcoming vibes of the main lobby, toji’s shoes squelching loudly with every step he took. the student behind the desk glancing uninterestedly up at them, and then sharply looked back up, staring with saucer eyes at toji in tow behind her.
she once again fought with her keys, the sound echoing throughout the empty corridor, and pushed open the door to her shared dorm. it was compact but efficient for two people to live comfortably together. her flatmate was curled up on the sofa with her boyfriend, shui, in the main living area, only lit up by whatever was on the tv.
“roomie!” her roommate called out, oblivious to toji’s presence. “how was studying today?”
“yeah, great,” she answered, glancing back at toji awkwardly standing by the door. “you?”
“all goo- oh! oh. hello there!” her roommate finally registered toji’s presence as the door clicked shut behind him, immediately jumping out of shiu’s arms, who also looked back over his shoulder in intrigue.
“hey,” toji mumbled, a puddle of water now collecting over the white tiles.
shiu waved his hand at toji, who flicked his chin upwards in acknowledgment. she immediately turned to her roommate, “hey, you think you have something from shui’s he could borrow?”
her roommate sprung into action, scrambling off the sofa. “yeah, yeah! sorry! i’ll be right back.”
toji remained where he was, stationary as a rock, his emerald orbs flicking every which way. she wondered what he was thinking, but she was too consumed by the monumental event that he was really standing there in her living room to dwell on it.
her roommate burst out of her room, smiling brightly as she handled a bundle of clothes to toji. “there you go! the bathroom’s just to the left there.”
he strode straight to the bathroom, his eyes meeting hers just before he closed the door.
“girl,” her roommate excitedly whispered, vigorously grabbing her forearms. “what the- what is going on? i didn’t know you and fushiguro were together.”
“we’re not together,” she rebuked, biting her lip. “we’re just… friends.”
her roommate scoffed, nearly bouncing up and down in glee. “shiu, you know this is the first time she’d brought a boy home.”
shiu hummed quietly, an unlit cigarette dangling between his lips. “that’s great, babe.”
her roommate scoffed, rolling her eyes at him, and her grip tightened just a fraction. “is he spending the night? oh my god, you both should stay and watch a movie with us.”
“oh, i don’t think he’ll stay…”
“girl, just go and get changed into something else, and i’ll talk to him when he comes out. you know people can’t say no to me.”
before she knew it, she was being pushed into her room, and the door was slammed behind her. she breathed out shakily, sliding against her wardrobe with her head in her hands. her heart was racing, and fuck fuck fuck, what the hell was she thinking bringing toji here?
she heard the bathroom door open, and the quiet baritone of toji’s voice mingled with her roommate's bubbly one. the words ‘pizza’ and ‘movie’ were mentioned, and she rushed to shimmy off her clothes and into her slightly better-looking loungewear, checking her hair was presentable enough. when she quietly opened her door, toji had his back towards her, wearing a black t-shirt that was a size too small and grey joggers that hugged his thick thighs.
he turned to face her, and the tense look on his face relaxed. her roommate piped up from the sofa, “hey! i was just saying that toji should stay and watch a movie with us while his clothes dry.”
she bit the inside of her cheek, and softly said to him, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
toji looked between her and her roommate, before replying with a low, “i’ll stay.”
her roommate clapped her hands together. “great! i’ll order the pizza.”
she walked over to the adjacent sofa to shiu, and hesitantly sat down on one edge of the sofa. toji followed and lowered himself onto the other empty side, leaving a space of everything and nothing between them. soon enough, her roommate returned and plonked herself right in between shiu’s spread legs, shuffling through the channels until she settled on a movie. the pizza arrived some time into the movie, and the four of them helped themselves. she couldn’t help but steal glances at toji, his face illuminated by the tv's glow as he brought a cheesy slice of pizza to his mouth, his expression blank and unreadable.
whatever way the angels must be solving her cosmic equation, they were obviously applying toji’s formula. their numbers were intertwining, creating a new constant, and she wondered what sort of symbol would represent the two of them.
toji met her gaze, and the corner of his lip curled upward.
after the movie had ended, her roommate had ushered a bemused shiu into her room and wiggled her fingers in an excited goodbye. “shh,” she’d giggled, while shiu rolled his eyes at her, tugging on the sleeve of her pyjama top. “don’t make too much noise, you two.”
and with that, she shut the door, leaving them alone.
together.
in her living room, on the same sofa.
“do you, uh, want to watch something else?” she murmured, her legs folded beneath her.
toji breathed out a quiet laugh. “please. i’m sorry, but that movie was actually so bad.”
she nearly snorted, clapping her hand over her mouth in an effort to contain her giggle. “yeah, it was pretty shit.”
the clock above the tv read 1:42 a.m., and she wondered if toji was tired. she assumed he would be after waking up so early to teach a bunch of energetic children. “you want some tea? i was just going to make some,” she asked, her ankles cracking as she rose from the sofa.
toji slapped his thighs, and steadily got up as well. “sure, but i should really get going soon. i don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
“spend the night,” she blurted out before she could stop herself. “none of us would mind, i promise.”
she then stupidly, pathetically even, held out her pinky towards him. toji frowned, clearly confused. “what are you doing?”
“a pinky promise.”
“oh right, yeah.”
he curled his pinky around hers, and a tiny electric shock sparked between them. she hissed and drew her hand back, but their eyes met, and they both erupted into a fit of hushed giggles, which only served to make them laugh harder.
“okay, you stick something on tv and i’ll make the tea,” she grinned, her bare feet softly padding on the floor as she went over to the kitchen.
as the kettle boiled, she watched toji flicking aimlessly through the channels, his face contorting when he came across something he didn’t like. he settled back onto the sofa, legs spread out as he reclined, mop of thick hair resting against the armrest. the shock of having him her in her home had faded now, and it felt almost natural for them to be around each other in this way. she brought over his mug filled with green tea, and he looked up at her gratefully as he took it from her. she sat down on the other sofa, stretching her legs out. toji’s eyes were slightly red, and he was yawning great big yawns, with the mug delicately balanced on his chest and one arm behind his head. the tv was on a low volume, and she wanted to pause time, even just for a while.
“hey, just lemme know when you wanna sleep. you can sleep in my room,” she murmured, hands grasping both sides of her mug, feet rubbing against each other.
toji looked over at her, a scowl playing on his features. “and where are you going to sleep, the sofa?”
“well, yeah.”
“no.”
“but you’re the guest!”
“shut up, no.”
“bu-”
“no.”
she huffed playfully, throwing a hand up in surrender, to which toji smirked at. they sat in comfortable silence, watching some silly competition show play on. despite the tea, she could feel herself becoming sleepier by the minute. she looked over at toji, who seemed perfectly content to lie there and watch the contestants make complete fools of themselves.
“bet that guy’s gonna fall off,” he mumbled, his arms folded over his chest. she only hummed in response, her cheek squished against a pillow, and toji grunted, “you the sleepy one now?”
she laughed, which interrupted her yawn. “maybe.”
“go to sleep then. don’t stay up for me.”
oh, how much he didn’t know about how long she would stay up for him, and how long she would really wait. but she couldn’t say anything except, “you sure?”
“yeah, yeah, i’m cool here.”
“hold on, lemme get you a blanket and pillow before i go.”
she returned promptly with them, kneeling down to place them on the floor beside him. when she looked up, she didn’t realize just how close his face was to hers. toji’s eyes flicked down to her lips, then back up to her eyes.
she gulped.
“good night,” he whispered.
“night,” was all she could muster before overcoming the magnetism between them and walking away.
| Φ |
the final stretch.
a flurry of pens on paper, pounding hearts, a tripwire of nerves, and then…
“time’s up! everyone please put down your pens. the exam is officially concluded.”
she leaned back in her seat, a sheer sense of awe crawling over her. this was it, she was done. her last university exam, all of it was finally over after three long years. her fellow students were of similar sentiment, with wide, nervous smiles, as if they all couldn’t really believe this was happening, as the smacks of numerous pats on the back reverberated through the hall.
the sun was shining on her face as she exited the exam hall, warm and inviting, promising that the hope for the future wasn’t unfounded. they were all high on life, with the thought that the world was their oyster, and they would all be lucky enough to find their own pearls.
“oh my god,” her friend groaned exaggeratedly, hands on her knees as if she’d just run a marathon. “it’s over.”
"yeah, it is," she hummed in agreement, basking in the sheer awe of the moment.
her friend barked out a laugh and clasped her hands together. “right then, i’m going to get ready for the party tonight. you are coming, right?”
“yeah of course,” she confirmed, shocking even herself that she would be going out. “we can only celebrate this once.”
her friend squealed, pulling her into a big hug before breaking away and trotting off. “bring fushiguro! maybe you both can get drunk and finally kiss,” she called out over her shoulder.
a few students looked over at her, and the embarrassment was almost crushing. she’d come to understand now that everyone on campus knew who toji fushiguro was. he was renowned for his adonis figure, the kind of handsome that only existed in fiction, and the fact he most certainly wasn’t associated with any girls or went to any parties.
until perhaps now, of course.
later that night at the cafe, as she fidgeted at her spot behind the counter, she plucked up the courage to ask toji, “so, you can totally say no if you don’t want to come, but there’s a party that’s happening in my building to celebrate the end of exams.”
toji looked up from reading her quantum mechanics textbook she had brought and grunted, “a party, huh. you going?”
“yeah, i’ll be heading over after closing up,” she replied, a bit deflated that he hadn’t seemed to notice she had dressed up quite a bit from her usual attire.
he hummed, nodded, and went back to reading. “i’ll see how i feel.”
that was no definitive reply, and she picked apart his usual baritone and analyzed in her mind as she went through a back-and-forth internal debate, trying to deduce some sort of meaning from it. she’d arrived to the party about an hour ago, and she was still thinking about it as she sipped away at some fruit-flavored punch that was far too delicious and dangerous for someone who didn't really drink. her lips were already numb, and the creeping giddiness was making her feel the joyousness of all that life is and would be.
her course mates had their arms around her shoulders, all of them loudly singing, more slurring really, in a circle to whatever song was thumping through the speakers. a part of her wanted to loose herself in the silliness of it all; it gave her courage and made her seem capable of things she would never have even dreamed of sober.
“oh my- don’t look, but fushiguro is actually here,” her friend slurred through her ear, nearly shouting and sending a ringing noise piercing through her eardrum.
she turned around, and sure enough, there was toji fushiguro pushing his way through the throng of students dancing in the cramped apartment they had decided to congregate in. his green eyes met hers, and relief ran over his features. it was cheesy, as well as completely impossible, but time seemed stretch and distort, slowing to a crawl the closer he got to her. her friend released her from the circle, giving her a calculated shove and sending her stumbling over her own feet.
straight into toji’s waiting arms.
“oh, fuck,” he shouted as he caught her, holding her forearms in a firm grip. “you okay?”
she stared up at him, the alcohol running through her blood making her lips spread into a big, dopey smile, and giggled, “yeah, you’re here.”
she could have sworn the tips of his ears turned pink, but the flashing, multicoloured lights made it too hard to make it out properly. it took her far too long to realize that toji still hadn’t let go of her arms, even as her punch had spilled on them both, and as even more people stared and bumped into them.
“you want a drink?” she shouted, standing up on her tiptoes to reach his ear.
toji grimaced. “no thanks, i don’t drink.”
“oh yeah, you’re a proper athlete and all,” she hiccuped, her body flushing with heat and the sound of the music.
he only laughed at that, his emerald eyes twinkling with possibilities.
| Φ |
“be careful,” toji hissed as he quickly moved to steady her as she tripped over the doorway into her dorm. “jesus, you’re a mess.”
“i-hiccup! no, no i’m a ss-shtar,” she wallowed, chuckling madly at her own antics. “ssstar! star.”
“yes, yes, a star, definitely,” toji mumbled, closing the door behind them, and maneuvering her securely along with him.
“hehe, am i youuuur star, toji?” she giggled, her legs giving out from underneath her, suddenly turning into jelly.
he snorted, using her strength to lift her off the floor and into his arms. “yes, you are. now c’mon, let’s get you to bed.”
her head rolled against his chest, her head swimming in a pool of red stars and blue moons, all of them circulating around a green sun. “go onnn, you have to say i’m yo-hiccup-ur star!”
“you’re my star. now c’mon, get into bed.”
as soon as he laid her underneath her duvet, her head started to pound and swirl the moment she closed her eyes. her stomach lurched like she was actually free-falling, and she groaned loudly. toji kneeled down in front of her, his face oh so very close to hers.
“what’s wrong? you wanna get sick?” he asked, forest eyes deep and ethereal as they took in her probably smeared makeup.
“i close my eyes and it feels bad,” she mumbled, feeling childish as her silliness became too much for even her not-so-sober state to listen to.
toji settled into a more comfortable sitting position, and she could feel his breath caressing her face. “tell me about something then, don’t think about it.”
“like-hiccup what?”
“anything. talk to me about stars, or whatever.”
“stars, really? okay… did you know, that there’s -hic- all different colors?”
“no, i didn’t actually. why’s there so many?”
“cuz they’re all different temperatures, that’s why.”
“that’s really cool. tell me about all the colors.”
“ohh, well there’s blue stars, those're the hottest one. and then there’s…”
| Φ |
she woke up to a throbbing headache and a burning stomach.
her eyes ached as light filtered through the opaque grey curtains of the window, and the white wall beside her bed was the first thing she saw when she finally peeked her eyes open. it was dreadfully plain and uninteresting, but rolling over to the other side to avoid it was another sort of unnecessarily difficult task.
she almost threw up when she saw toji lying there on the floor.
“toji?” she whispered urgently. “toji?! are you awake?”
he grunted in annoyance and rolled over to face her, his midnight hair all messy on a pillow he had procured from who knows where, although there was no blanket to be seen. the scarred side of his lip twitching as he flitted somewhere in between the realm of dreams and sleep.
oh how her heart was absolutely swooning at the sight.
she smiled to herself, quietly watching him sleep and quickly forgetting about how ill she felt, because none of that mattered. only that she could hear the scratching of quills, ruffling feathers, and the soft music playing, telling her that this was it.
she was in love with toji fushiguro.
there was no other way around it.
no more denying it to herself or anyone else – she loved him.
the boy who slept on a rock-hard floor beside her all night, listening to her drunk and probably terrible explanations about stars and who knows what else.
green orbs peeked out from hooded lids, and toji mumbled, “what’re you lookin at?”
she bit her lip, trying to contain her giddiness at her own sudden revelation, and reached over to poke his hand. “you. why didn’t you sleep on the sofa?”
toji's eyes fully opened, and he grabbed her finger and tugged gently. “cause, what if you needed to get sick and tripped in the dark? you might be a star, but you don’t actually shine, you know?”
“hah, you’re hilarious,” she retorted, letting him waggle her finger with his hand. “what else did i say, then?”
“that i’m the nicest person on earth for staying with you, and that i deserve free green tea from now on.”
“chancer, i definitely didn’t.”
“but how do you know you definitely didn’t?”
a loud knock at her door jolted them both out of their banter, and her roommate belted from the other side, “oi, lovebirds! we’re all going to get breakfast, want to come with?”
she looked expectantly at toji, who shrugged and mouthed ‘sure’, and answered back, “yeah, be out in a sec!”
“lovebirds, huh?” toji mumbled, as he intertwined their fingers, the corner of his lip curling upwards.
oh, angels in heaven above…
“shut up.”
| Φ |
the month of june was of blue skies and scorching pavements.
of far too many melted vanilla and matcha ice-creams dripping onto their clothes. of heat mirages and the cool, sweet relief of air-conditioned cafes and shopping malls. of lying on dried-out, yellowed grass at night, their sweaty hands firmly holding each other, while looking up at the midnight sky and divulging all their deepest secrets.
it was when she learned how toji got the scar on his lip.
he was twiddling with the hem of her baby pink t-shirt, not quite looking at her. “my cousins used to bully me when i was a kid,” he admitted quietly.
her gaze snapped over to him, soul aching for him. “toji, that’s awful.”
birds twittered loudly in a nearby tree.
then, it was quiet for a while.
she didn’t know what to say really, except, “did you tell anyone?”
toji shook his head, trailing a finger up and down her bare arm. “my parents kinda dismissed it like it wasn’t happening. i think they didn’t want to stir things within the family, even when the fuckers took it too far one day and caused this."
he paused, took a shaky breath, and with a voice tinged with bitterness he continued, “they held me down and threatened me with razor blades, and one of 'em accidentally slipped.”
“i’m so sorry,” she whispered, not knowing quite else to say, and rolled over onto her side to face him.
“it’s alright, i’m over it,” toji mumbled, returning to lying on his back, his arm behind his head. “but it’s why i've been studying so hard, so i can get the hell out of here. my family lives quite close by, you see.”
“right, and tokyo is about as far away as you can get.”
“yeah, pretty much.”
“and that’s why you didn’t speak to anyone at uni. you knew you'd just be moving on anyways, so there was no point making friends."
“mhm.”
she chewed the inside of her cheek. “so, what made me different?”
toji turned his head to face her, his gaze holding a gentleness she'd never seen before, “because… you’re you,” he said, as if that alone would explain everything.
she looked away, staring up at the sky again. it was silent for some time before she finally asked, “have i ever explained what quantum entanglement is to you before?”
“don’t think so, but go on.”
“it’s when two particles are so deeply connected, that it doesn’t matter even if they’re separated. the connection will always be there, and they’ll always affect each other. the distance between them doesn't matter either, because they still belong to each other.”
toji was quiet for a long time.
she wondered if he understood the deeper meaning behind what she was actually trying to say. she had never explicitly said to him that she loved him, and perhaps this was the only way she could say it - in the only way she knew how to. it was too late to turn back now anyway.
suddenly, toji pushed his upper body off the ground and sat upwards, his back turned to her.
he was breathing fast, too fast, and her heart started to beat frantically.
“toji?” she called out, fear lacing her words, her heart breaking in two at the mere thought of him rejecting all of this this – rejecting her.
toji turned to her, and whispered with glossy eyes, his words almost barely audible, “it’s you. it’s you. it’s you, and i love you.”
with that, he practically fell on top of her, their lips finally meeting in what seemed like an inevitable occurrence. like an eclipse or the death of a star, but none of that mattered. because here she was, with toji fushiguro.
and he loved her.
he loved her, as her lips parted for him and their tongues swirled together, and she thought he tasted of vanilla.
she loved him, as he tenderly held the back of her head, and she melted into him like the ice creams they savoured every day.
they loved each other, as their hands dipped underneath their shirts, exploring the dips and valleys of each other's bodies.
the universe was never more perfect than in that very moment.
| Φ |
the very next week, they went on their first official date.
“i’ll swing by your place at eight o’clock, is that okay?” toji asked her over the phone, as she lazed about in her bed in a dream-like, rosy trance.
she hummed, rolling onto her back and kicking her legs in the air. “sure. what are we doing?”
“never you mind your brilliant little head about it. just be ready, okay?”
“hehe, okay.”
“okay, i’ll see you later… i love you.”
“i love you too.”
with that, he ended the call, and she was left counting down the hours until she would see him. she got ready in good time, being careful to shave every bit of hair on her body, being meticulous as she plucked her brows perfectly. she hadn’t thought of sex since her subpar experience with it during her first year, and had since locked it out of her mind. not that she even thought they would be doing something like that.
at least, not until she had spied a box of condoms under the bathroom sink cabinet.
and now, it was all she could think about.
just after eight p.m., there was a prompt knock on the door, and she breathed out shakily before opening it. and there was her boy, her toji, holding a bouquet of half a dozen red roses, with a blush gracing his cheeks nearly as colorful as the blooms in his hands.
“hey,” he greeted with a handsome, crooked smile, his eyes sweeping up and down her figure. “you look beautiful. i hope you like italian food.”
and all her bundle of nerves dissipated. “yeah,” she replied breathlessly. “i do.”
toji took her to a small restaurant not too far from her dorm, roughly a fifteen-minute walk away. it was quirky, with cobblestone walls and a warm ambience, designed really for students with not much money in their pockets.
but it was just perfect.
it was natural, the way it was always meant to be. with her sitting there in a dainty summer dress, and toji in his usual black t-shirt and jeans, who was looking at her like she was his whole universe.
after they were done with their meal, he’d shooed her away from even trying to pay for the bill, which he took care of in battered notes and loose change. then, they walked hand in hand in the warm summer breeze back to her dorm. she prattled on excitedly about how she was looking for internships at various firms in tokyo, and toji was smiling as he listened to her finally start to figure out the answers to her future equation.
though, maybe not just her future.
they finally entered the safe space of her dorm, her roommates absence filling it with a sad eeriness. she looked at him shyly, fiddling with her fingers behind her back, and asked, “you want some tea?”
toji hummed, taking his shoes off at the door. “sure, thanks.”
she was grateful he said yes, it gave her something to do with her shaky hands. she reached upwards to the cabinet to grab their mugs. the two twin beige, somewhat grey, mugs that always sat beside each other. they clinked loudly against the counter, and she flicked the kettle switch on.
and then, toji’s warm hands were on her hips, and her mind went blank.
“i love you,” he mumbled, his lips soft and wet as they trailed against the curve of her neck. “you’re my star, and i love you.”
he was repeating ‘i love you’ like a mantra he couldn’t quite believe was true, and even a part of her was still amazed that it actually was. she turned to face him, tea well and truly forgotten about, and wrapped her arms around his neck to place her lips between his. toji hummed gently into her mouth, his hands sliding down to grip her behind, pulling her closer into him.
it was a nebula explosion after that.
a stumbling mess of them making their way to her bedroom with their lips interlocked, bodies pressed close together as they ripped their clothes off each other. giggling like naughty children when she struggled to tug her dress off.
“you’re hopeless,” toji groaned playfully, tapping her nose with his finger, before smoothly sliding her dress from her body.
she pouted, crossing her arms over her bare chest. “am not.”
he shushed her softly, pulling her into him once more in a fiery kiss, and they fell gently onto the bed. toji kneaded her breasts, eliciting a moan from her as his mouth traveled slowly from her lips, down to her neck and caressing her collarbone, flicking her hard nipple with his tongue.
“hmm, you feelin good, baby?” toji murmured, looking up at her with hooded lids, forest eyes blazing with desire reserved just for her. “not too much?”
"n-no," she stuttered, fisting his black locks between her fingers, scratching the back of his scalp and making him groan.
toji parted his lips, his breath blowing softly and tickling her nipple, and she shivered and slightly arched her back in anticipation. he teased her with his tongue, licking her hard bud with a featherlight touch, and she gasped, “toji, please.”
with that, he took her nipple in his mouth, steaming hot and so wet as his tongue swirled around it. she moaned loudly, arching herself into his body, and he placed a strong hand on the small of her back to pull her in.
she thought that if toji pulled her in any closer, they would surely melt into each other and become one.
her legs parted of their own accord, and her hips were pure instinct as she ground her slick pussy on his thigh, the ridges of the powerful muscle stimulating her perfectly and sending jolts of pleasure through her core. toji smiled against her nipple, giving it one last suck, letting it go with a dirty pop! and traveled back up to her face, his lips brushing hers.
“who knew,” he whispered, pressing soft kisses along the bridge of her nose. “that all this would happen from drinking green tea.”
she giggled, and held his face in her hands, bringing his lips back home to hers. “i need you, toji,” she breathed out, breaking their kiss. “can i have you?”
toji smiled, touched his forehead to hers and murmured, “you can always have me, sweetheart. tell me what you want.”
“i want you,” she begged, her arousal making her more mindlessly desperate by the second. “i’m yours, toji. make me yours.”
he snapped.
his lips captured hers once more in a searing kiss so molten hot, she was sure she would burn and be consumed by his fire. toji’s hands moved down to himself, freeing his hard cock from his boxers with a little slap noise as it hit against her lower stomach. he pressed his hips into her and settled in between her legs, his hard and flushed dick feeling a thousand times hotter against her skin than his lips did.
toji moved his hips, his cock wetting against her folds, the slick sounds lewd and utterly intoxicating, as he pushed further into her with every back and forth motion.
further.
and further.
she moaned loudly as he finally sunk deep into her wet walls, painfully slow and deliciously agonising.
“oh, fuck baby,” toji groaned, his face in her neck, as he buried himself to the hilt. “you’re -ah!- so fuckin beautiful. my beautiful girl.”
her nails dug into his shoulder, and toji bent her legs to fold them, rutting further into her. she whined at the deeper connection, feeling his cock flex inside her. he stilled with their chests pressed tightly together, and she could feel his heart pumping hard.
“t-toji,” she gasped, throwing her head back as she felt his balls against the curve of her ass.
the tip of his dick rubbing against that spongy spot that made her see stars behind her eyelids. he started shallowly thrusting, deliberately slow, holding her head so lovingly she felt she was going to burst.
this was heaven, she thought.
toji was heaven – her phi.
the golden ratio, found in all remarkable and beautiful things on the planet.
all her life, all the combinations of numbers, formulas, and sequences had to have been carefully calculated to lead up to him, to this moment.
toji sucked and kissed just below her ear, his muscled thighs flexing as he increased the pace just a fraction, and she clenched around him, feeling the veins of his cock rubbing exquisitely inside her. she tightly squeezed his bicep as the sounds of her squelching pussy and slapping of their bodies going plap! plap! plap! filled the room, and the smell of sex and toji wafted through her nose.
“look at us,” he cooed, stroking her cheek. “makin such a mess on your bed.”
she looked down to where their bodies met, and sure enough, there was a ring of white cream at the base of toji’s cock pumping in and out of her, dripping messily down onto a damp spot on the bedsheets beneath them. his toned abs had a thin sheen of sweat, and they flexed and rippled as he really started to pound into her.
her pussy clenched around him again at the thought of him chasing his pleasure high from her body, and she kissed him fervently. toji moaned into her mouth, his balls tightening more and more. her orgasm was exponentially building, like the pressure of boiling water molecules hitting against the walls of a sealed container.
“let go, baby” toji murmured huskily, his hips snapping at an even faster pace. “let go.”
and she did, throwing her head back and almost screaming, her legs shaking violently.
a supernova imploded somewhere at the other end of a distant universe. stars flew across the blackness behind her squeezed-shut eyelids, leaving behind a glittering trail of stardust. toji groaned into her neck, and she felt hot ropes of his cum spurt against her walls, his legs the only thing powering his body through his high.
she wrapped her arms around his neck as he stilled, half-hard cock still plugged inside her. they were huffing and panting into each other, their shared sweat making them stick to each other.
“i love you,” toji whispered, full of reverence, full of life.
she kissed him softly, rubbing their noses together. “i love you too.”
| Φ |
it was early july now; their exam results had been released, and graduations were finally right around the corner.
“you should go toji!” she exclaimed, cupping her mug of lukewarm tea with both hands, watching him intently from her spot on the sofa as he did some stretches. “you’ve worked so hard for this.”
he grunted, but from effort or annoyance, she couldn’t tell. “i can’t be bothered, seriously, and i’m not interested in standing on a stage and be the only person without parents cheering them on.”
she didn’t press it further after that.
instead, she cast one last longing look at his muscles rippling as he stretched, and resumed perusing through internship advertisements on her laptop.
they had settled into an oddly domestic routine for the past few weeks. she would work in the cafe during the day, while toji trained ever harder at the gym. he would swing by and pick her up as she finished her shift in the early hours of the afternoon, and they would cook dinner and hang around the dorm. the weather was getting far too hot for leisurely walks during the day, and so they had mostly passed the time by making love and talking about everything and anything at all.
toji kissed the top of her head, squatting behind her, quite clearly finished with his stretches as his eyes skimmed over the tab open on her laptop. “still nothin, baby?”
she sighed, rubbing his hand that was gently massaging her shoulders. “no.”
“you’ll find something, don’t worry. it’ll happen. let’s just focus on celebrating your graduation next week.”
her graduation.
she still couldn’t believe it.
next week, she would be graduating, and the week after that, saying goodbye to her accommodation – her home – for the last three years of her life. saying farewell to her manager and the little cafe that had been so good to her, and not just because it had brought her and toji together. the stress was mounting to find something, anything, in tokyo, because she refused to even entertain the idea of going backwards and returning home.
and because she absolutely could not bear to be so far away from toji either.
the thought alone was soul-crushing.
she heard the shower faucet running in the bathroom, and a wave of loneliness hit her. why exactly, she wasn’t sure, but she chased after toji into the bathroom.
he stared as she burst in, a thick brow raised in startled confusion, as soap suds trickled down his face and back. “what? you find somethin?”
clothes be damned, she stepped into the shower and kissed him with all the energy and emotion she could muster. toji was taken aback for a second, hesitatingly circling his arms around her, and then melting into her.
it was then that she decided.
she would rather her body combust, and all her atoms disperse into the atmosphere before even trying to live without toji fushiguro.
| Φ |
it was the night before her graduation, and she was a nervous wreck.
“oh, toji,” she gushed, dipping the razor she was holding into a bowl of soapy water and giving it a little shake. “i hate getting up in front of people. i might just not go. it doesn’t really matter anyway, does it?”
toji hummed, brows furrowed at her, but remained unable to respond unless he wanted to get soap in his mouth. she flicked away the excess water from the razor and carefully shaved underneath toji’s chin. he’d really let his stubble grow out, and since he was adamant about attending her graduation, it meant that the scruff would just have to go.
“nugh- y’re goin,” toji mumbled through pursed lips. “y’re too shmart t'not go.”
“and you’re too smart to have missed yours, but here we are,” she retorted, her tongue poking out from the side of her lip in concentration. “now stop talking, or you’ll get cut.”
toji grumbled and huffed from his nose, sending a soap sud flying onto her bare arm, and he snorted in amusement. she was sat on top of the kitchen counter next to the sink, with toji standing in between her legs, his hands kneading her plush thighs every so often. she was deep in thought, the only sound the gentle scratching of the blade, and started going through a mental checklist of everything she needed to prepare for tomorrow morning.
her light green kimono for the ceremony was already laid out on her roommate's old bed, zori shoes and tabi socks neatly placed beside it, but her hair pins and accessories still needed to be picked out. oh no, she hadn’t even decided on a-
“ow, fuck!”
she snapped out of her thoughts as toji hissed in pain, ruby-red pearls of blood already blooming from his lip.
oh no…
please god, no...
she’d cut his scar, reopening the top layer of delicate flesh.
“toji! fuck, i’m sorry,” she panicked, as he pulled away from her in a flash, his fingers pressing down on his lip. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to!
she slid off the counter, immediately trying to go over and help him, but toji practically growled, “don’t fucking touch me.”
her body froze, a cold shock of dread spreading from her head straight down to her stomach where it pooled uncomfortably. “toji?” she called out, her heart cracking and lip quivering. “it’s me. it’s only me.”
she’d never seen him like this before, backed up against the wall like an injured animal, his green eyes widened, breathing quickened, and nostrils flared, as if he was about to lash out at anything and everything. he held her worried gaze, but there was nothing except a cold emptiness behind him.
there was no trace of the boy she knew and loved.
“oh, toji. please,” she begged, fat droplets of tears running down the apples of her cheeks. "let me help you."
toji madly scrambled away, grabbing his shoes, and was out the door as if he’d never been there to begin with.
| Φ |
toji never came home that night.
she’d fallen asleep on the sofa, after calling him numerous times with no answer, waiting for him to walk back through the door until she couldn’t possibly keep her eyes open any longer. when she woke up groggily, her eyes still heavy from sleep and crying, she went about the arduous task of getting herself ready for graduation.
she hoped, no, prayed to the angels solving her equation to apply some sort of magic formula that would bring toji back to her. she had to believe he would show up to the ceremony; he just had to show. she didn’t even want to think about trying to calculate for the probability of him not showing up.
but the day went by in a hazy, slow blur of camera flashes, ostentatious flower bouquets, and toothy grins of parents and graduates. she played the part perfectly, a walking empty shell of a human, hugging and smiling with her loved ones. when her name was called to receive her diploma, nothing else mattered except trying to catch a glimpse of toji’s face in the audience.
but she couldn’t see him.
a foolish part of her hoped that he was standing right at the back of the auditorium, wearing that soft smile she loved so much whenever he looked at her.
that’s all it was though – foolish.
eventually, she returned back to her dorm in a numb daze, blinking slowly as her eyes swept over her soon-to-be-old home.
there was no trace of toji.
not his black sliders by the door.
not his toothbrush in the holder in the bathroom.
not his canvas bag or dirty gym clothes in the washing basket.
nothing at all.
she collapsed to the floor in a heap, her hands shakily procuring her phone from her clutch purse, and dialled toji’s number.
beep. beep. beep.
“sorry, but the number you have called does not exist. ple-”
she snapped her phone shut, and hoped that her angels could hear the gut-wrenching scream that clawed its way out of her throat and reverberated around the empty walls of the dorm.
| Φ |
the first law of thermodynamics states that energy can never be created or destroyed, only changing from one form to another.
that was all she think of as she curled into a fetal position on the cold, hard tiles of the apartment, teeth chattering as she repeated the law over and over again. the very marrow of her bones felt frozen solid, her fingernails harshly kissing crescent moons into her palm so hard that was she sure she must have bled by now.
but she didn’t care.
her heart was tearing itself apart, a war of raw muscle and heartstrings against the merciless, cruel force of love clashing inside of her chest.
her energy, what was it?
was it love?
for the numbers and greek letters she puzzled over for hours on end, contemplating all of the universe's workings and mysteries. or was it for toji fushiguro? for the dark-haired boy who had taught to her love something else other than her calculations and green tea. to love life and all the little joys that came along with it, and that she was worth infinitely more than what she thought of herself.
if her energy was love, then what would it change into?
hate, rage?
both?
maybe the angels could mercifully apply the catastrophic formula of death, and prove her life's equation to be null and false. her body would dissolve back into dust and atoms that would find their way back to toji, hovering tantalisingly closely to him, but never to touch him again. would his body know hers, even if he could never hope to see her? would he sense her and smile, as he remembered the quiet, young love they once shared?
she liked to imagine that he would smile.
her teeth clattered loudly, and her arms disappeared into the sleeves of her kimono.
how strange, the music is louder than its ever been.
scratching of quills.
a splash of ink and a teardrop.
and the scroll was flipped over to a blank side.
| Φ |
©storiesoflilies 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites! i only post on ao3 and tumblr.
#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x y/n#toji x you#toji x reader#toji smut#jjk toji#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji x reader smut#toji zenin#toji fushiguro#fushiguro toji#toji fluff#jujutsu toji#jjk oneshot#jjk angst#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#jjk au#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen au#jjk fanfic#toji fic
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I was going to post more stuff more often but the, in my opinion, unnecessary drama over Aventurine is making me reconsider things. I made a lot of pieces after I finished the 2.1 quest but I worry about posting them.
I'm sure no one really cares since I usually post once in a blue moon anyway but I still find the drama concerning. Perhaps that just me though.
#ink stained letters#And also pretty ridiculous#Like I'm almost certain this didn't need to happen#Not like this#Not only is it ineffective#It actively harms people#On both sides of the argument#aventurine x reader#hsr aventurine#If literal death threats were sent to someone who wrote a fluffy ish piece#I would rather not see what they would send to someone who writes angst#By ineffective I mean#People will still write it anyway#And probably with a lot more darker themes than just having a better route
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⋆˚࿔ one hundred paired prompts 𝜗𝜚˚⋆
¹⁾ a pot of fresh coffee and split knuckles
²⁾ orange peels and a car battery
³⁾ sand dunes and leather boots
⁴⁾ a printer and a knife
⁵⁾ incense and handcuffs
⁶⁾ a crushed velvet sofa and a video camera
⁷⁾ stale cigarettes and cotton candy
⁸⁾ loose change and headlights
⁹⁾ grey hairs and a gold belt buckle
¹⁰⁾ burnt coffee and grass stains
¹¹⁾ cherry cola and blue jeans
¹²⁾ chipped green nail polish and an empty dinner table
¹³⁾ a stack of paperwork and metal music
¹⁴⁾ a patchwork quilt and sweet tea
¹⁵⁾ a hockey sweater and a two-seater sofa
¹⁶⁾ perfume oil and rolled up shirtsleeves
¹⁷⁾ fallen leaves and guilt
¹⁸⁾ radio channels and a birthday card
¹⁹⁾ ravens and meadowsweet
²⁰⁾ apologies and bitter red wine
²¹⁾ library books and pouring rain
²²⁾ a breathalyser and popcorn
²³⁾ princess plasters and iodine
²⁴⁾ a tote bag with one broken strap and a winding staircase
²⁵⁾ a parasol and a tumbler of straight whiskey
²⁶⁾ fresh honey and a cult
²⁷⁾ wisdom teeth and blue eyes
²⁸⁾ sour cherries and a stolen hoodie
²⁹⁾ the flu and a heatwave
³⁰⁾ a boonie hat and a sunset
³¹⁾ vanilla perfume and a kitchen counter
³²⁾ a buffalo skull and a leather armchair
³³⁾ a throw pillow and a doorway
³⁴⁾ pink fluffy handcuffs and an unexpected guest
³⁶⁾ a package and a divorce
³⁷⁾ a stripper pole and a hangover
³⁸⁾ familiar cologne and a black eye
³⁹⁾ a lit candle and a snowstorm
⁴⁰⁾ an unsealed letter and a fallen pine tree
⁴¹⁾ headlights and footprints
⁴²⁾ a blocked number and traffic lights
⁴³⁾ a racesuit and a countdown
⁴⁴⁾ a butcher’s apron and a phonecall
⁴⁵⁾ battered comic books and a broken window
⁴⁶⁾ cold floorboards and a roommate
⁴⁷⁾ smooth vermouth and gold rings
⁴⁸⁾ a lip piercing and a rough hand
⁴⁹⁾ someone’s spare room and an eclipse
⁵⁰⁾ a game of mahjong and bad jazz music
⁵¹⁾ a jigsaw puzzle and a mortuary
⁵²⁾ a broke-up sidewalk and a knitted scarf
⁵³⁾ a poundshop wig and broken glass
⁵⁴⁾ a bunk bed and a crush
⁵⁵⁾ a red ink tattoo and a dinner gone cold
⁵⁶⁾ a warm palm and a flannel shirt
⁵⁷⁾ fresh basil and a half-empty bottle of arrack
⁵⁸⁾ a nightclub bathroom and smeared eyeliner
⁵⁹⁾ a busted lip and strawberry icecream
⁶⁰⁾ a floral-patterned dress and a looming balcony
⁶¹⁾ peach pits and a pressed shirt collar
⁶²⁾ a white mercedes and cheap perfume
⁶³⁾ a fwb and a housekey
⁶⁴⁾ a blue sarong and a fingertip tracing over a scar
⁶⁵⁾ a sauna room and a terse exchange
⁶⁶⁾ fried plantains and a briefcase
⁶⁷⁾ dried lavender and a tiled bathtub
⁶⁸⁾ a hotel room and a bouquet of lilies
⁶⁹⁾ sweet mango lassi and a suitcase
⁷⁰⁾ orange streetlights and a nightmare
⁷¹⁾ a crucifix and a thigh tattoo
⁷²⁾ a palm tattoo and the thrum of a heartbeat
⁷³⁾ a champagne room and a police siren
⁷⁴⁾ blue nitrile gloves and a hickey
⁷⁵⁾ a double-wide trailer and shotgun shells
⁷⁶⁾ stitches and pyjama shorts
⁷⁷⁾ karaoke and a snowdrift
⁷⁸⁾ an older man and a twin bed
⁷⁹⁾ chinese takeout and a graveyard
⁸⁰⁾ wet clothes and ambulance sirens
⁸¹⁾ carbolic soap and a creaking staircase
⁸²⁾ an undercover assignment and wrung hands
⁸³⁾ the back seat of a limousine and bustling night streets
⁸⁴⁾ a steamed-up bathroom and cold floorboards
⁸⁵⁾ a grand prix and a breakup
⁸⁶⁾ a third place trophy and a picture frame
⁸⁷⁾ the last slice of birthday cake and crossed legs
⁸⁸⁾ squashed raspberries and heated cheeks
⁸⁹⁾ pink lipgloss and brass knuckles
⁹⁰⁾ a ghost mask and a late visit
⁹¹⁾ loose bullets and slashed tires
⁹²⁾ a tactical belt and patterned bedsheets
⁹³⁾ a goaltender’s stick and a lonely walk home
⁹⁴⁾ a dog bed and a migraine
⁹⁵⁾ lit billboards and a floor-length gown
⁹⁶⁾ a divebar negroni and a game of pool
⁹⁷⁾ olive trees at harvest time and divorce papers
⁹⁸⁾ a caviar bump and vanilla coke
⁹⁹⁾ a whale tail and pantsuit
¹⁰⁰⁾ legs thrown into a lap and calloused hands
#enjoy my prettiessss#another instalment of trio prompts on the way!!#prompts#paired prompts#aesthetic prompts#prompt list#writing prompts#writing exercise#rp meme#otp prompts#soft prompts#imagine your otp#otp writing#drabble prompts#drabble meme#writing inspiration#writing inspo
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Fire Cannot Heal
- Summary: A raven arrives from Dragonstone carrying news dark as its wings.
- Pairing: niece!reader/Daemon Targaryen
- Note: A lot of angst and death of the reader who Daemon married along with her older sister Rhaenyra in Valyrian tradition.
- Rating: Mature 16+
- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround
The air in Harrenhal was damp and heavy, a faint chill creeping through even the thickest of cloaks. Simon Strong sat across from him, droning on about the movements of the Hightower forces and their plans to hold the Riverlands.
Daemon Targaryen wasn’t listening.
His thoughts wandered to Dragonstone, to the turbulent seas and dark skies above its cliffs. He imagined the roaring fires of the hearths and the laughter of his sons echoing through the halls. Then, unbidden, his mind conjured the image of you, softer and gentler than either himself or Rhaenyra, seated by the window in your chamber with a hand resting on your belly, your lips curving into a smile as you spoke of your hopes for the child you carried.
Daemon’s hand tightened around his cup as he exhaled slowly, almost in frustration. The child. He had never expected such joy to stem from your union, a marriage of necessity, one he had likened to Aegon and Visenya’s—a duty, a convenience. You knew it, too, and he had seen the knowledge in your eyes even on your wedding day. Yet now…now, with the prospect of this child, there had been something new between you. Something he had not known how to name but had begun to crave.
The door creaked open, snapping Daemon from his thoughts. A messenger, pale and out of breath, stumbled into the hall, clutching a parchment sealed with the black wax of Dragonstone. The urgency in his movements immediately silenced Simon’s voice.
“My prince,” the messenger began, his voice trembling, “I bring word from Dragonstone. A raven arrived.”
Daemon stood without hesitation, his boots heavy against the stone floor as he crossed the room in a few long strides. The parchment was thrust into his hands, and he broke the seal with a swift, impatient motion.
The words swam before his eyes, black ink staining the rough parchment like spilled blood:
Silverwing…Rook’s Rest…Vhagar…Aemond…fallen…
His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. He read the message again, slower this time, as if the meaning would change if only he looked hard enough. But the words remained the same.
You were gone.
He stumbled back a step, his hand clutching the edge of the table for support. The messenger’s voice was faint in the background, explaining what the letter did not say outright. “The queen sent her…to bolster Lord Staunton’s defense. Silverwing…they say she was torn from the sky by Vhagar…”
Simon Strong rose, concern evident in his eyes. “My prince? What has happened?”
Daemon didn’t answer. His eyes remained fixed on the parchment, his fingers curling tightly around its edges until the paper crumpled. His mind refused to accept the words.
You, with your soft smiles and timid nature. You, who had hesitated even to ride Silverwing into a storm. You, carrying his child—their child—had been sent to battle.
He shook his head slowly, disbelieving. “Why?” The word slipped from his lips, quiet and raw. “Why would Rhaenyra send her?”
“She thought it wise to send your wife…” the messenger began hesitantly, but Daemon’s head snapped up, and the venom in his eyes silenced the man instantly.
“She thought it wise?” Daemon’s voice rose, sharp as Valyrian steel. “She thought it wise to send a woman heavy with child, one whose dragon has never known the savagery of war, against Vhagar and that wretched boy?”
The parchment fell from his hands as he turned away, pacing like a caged animal. His thoughts warred within him. The anger, the grief, the disbelief—they threatened to tear him apart. You were gone. The child, your child, was gone.
His hands clenched into fists. “Rhaenyra…she knew.” His voice was low now, dangerously calm. “She knew Y/N was gentle, too gentle for this. She knew Silverwing was no match for Vhagar. And yet…” He trailed off, his voice breaking for the first time.
Simon stepped closer, his tone cautious. “My prince, perhaps there is more to this. The queen may have had no choice—”
“No choice?” Daemon turned on him, his violet eyes blazing. “No choice but to send her own sister, my wife, the mother of my child to her death? No, Simon, there is always a choice.”
His mind reeled with the implications. The child would have been the first tangible bond of their marriage, something more than the duty and expectation that had defined it. And now…now, there was nothing.
Daemon’s shoulders sagged under the weight of the realization. His anger burned hot and bright, but beneath it was a grief so profound it threatened to swallow him whole. He sank into a chair, his head in his hands.
For a long moment, there was only silence.
When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse. “She smiled when I left,” he murmured, his words barely audible. “She smiled and said she would wait for me. She said our child would wait for me.”
Simon remained silent, understanding that no words could soothe this wound.
Daemon’s mind drifted back to you once more—to the way your hand had rested protectively over your belly, the soft laughter that had escaped you when you spoke of names for the child. He had never told you, but he had begun to hope.
Now, that hope was gone, and all that remained was a searing, empty ache.
“Bring Caraxes,” Daemon said at last, his voice cold and resolute. He rose to his feet, his grief now tempered by a cold determination. “I'm leaving.”
The winds howled over the jagged cliffs of Dragonstone, carrying with them the salt-laden air of the Narrow Sea. Caraxes’ roar echoed against the walls as Daemon dismounted in the courtyard, his boots slamming into the stone with purpose. The red worm curled protectively behind him, his growls a low, rumbling threat to anyone who dared approach. Daemon ignored the Dragonkeepers and the soldiers that hurried to greet him, his violet eyes fixed on the entrance to the castle.
He stormed inside without a word. The castle’s halls, usually filled with warmth and firelight, seemed cold and dim to him now. Every flicker of torchlight reminded him of the flames that had consumed Silverwing, and every shadow seemed to mock him with the absence of you.
His footsteps thundered through the throne room, where he knew she would be. Rhaenyra was seated on the great black chair, her crown glinting in the faint light. Advisors and courtiers lingered nearby, their whispers dying as Daemon entered, his face a storm of rage and grief.
“Leave us,” he commanded, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.
Rhaenyra raised her hand, dismissing her attendants without question. Her gaze was steady as she watched him approach, though there was tension in the set of her jaw. She knew why he had come.
When the room emptied, Daemon halted at the foot of the throne, his eyes burning into hers. “Why?” he asked, his voice low and trembling with barely restrained fury. “Why did you send her to Rook’s Rest?”
Rhaenyra straightened, her tone defensive. “Daemon, you know why. We needed—”
“You needed?” Daemon interrupted, his voice rising. “You needed to send a woman heavy with child, one who has never known the horrors of war, against Vhagar? You needed to send my wife, your sister, and her gentle dragon to their deaths?”
Rhaenyra’s lips tightened. “She had a dragon, Daemon. A dragon as powerful as any—”
“No,” Daemon snapped, slamming his fist against the armrest of the throne. “Silverwing was no war dragon. She was gentle, like her rider. And you knew that.”
“She volunteered!” Rhaenyra argued, her voice rising to match his. “She wanted to serve our cause. She knew what was at stake.”
“She was my wife,” Daemon growled, stepping closer, “and you sent her to die.”
Rhaenyra flinched at his words, but her chin lifted defiantly. “We are at war, Daemon. Sacrifices must be made. She knew that as well as any of us.”
Daemon’s laugh was bitter, hollow. “Sacrifices? Is that what you call her? A sacrifice?” His voice broke, but he pressed on. “Do you know what I found at Rook’s Rest, Rhaenyra? Do you?”
She said nothing, her gaze faltering for the first time.
“They took her dragon’s head,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less furious. “And her body? There was no sign of her body.” He paused, the words choking him. “Who knows what they did to her? What horrors she suffered before she…”
He trailed off, unable to finish.
Rhaenyra’s face paled, but she quickly masked it with resolve. “Daemon, we still have our sons. You have Viserys and Aegon—”
“It is not the same,” Daemon hissed, his voice laced with venom.
“Daemon—”
“It is not the same!” He roared, his voice echoing through the hall. “Our sons are alive, but she is gone. She was carrying our child, Rhaenyra. Our child! The first thing that was truly ours in this farce of a marriage. And now, there is nothing.”
Rhaenyra rose from the seat, her own anger boiling to the surface. “Do you think this is easy for me? She was my sister! Do you think I wanted this?”
Daemon’s eyes darkened, his jaw clenching. “You made a choice, Rhaenyra. You may not have wanted this, but you allowed it. You sent her to her death because you thought it was what the realm needed. And now she is gone, and I am left to wonder what I could have done to stop you.”
The tension in the room was suffocating, the weight of their shared grief and guilt pressing down on them both.
“You may wear the crown,” Daemon said bitterly, his voice quieter now but no less cutting. “But you do not understand what you have lost. She was more than your sister. She was my wife, the mother of my child. And you took that from me.”
Rhaenyra’s shoulders sagged, the strength she had tried to project crumbling under his words. “Daemon…”
He shook his head, stepping back. “No. I will not stay here and play the loyal prince when you cannot see the cost of your decisions.”
Without another word, Daemon turned and strode from the throne room, his cloak billowing behind him like the wings of a dragon. Rhaenyra called after him, her voice breaking, but he did not stop.
The wind was howling again as he stepped out into the courtyard, where Caraxes waited. The red dragon lowered his head, sensing his rider’s turmoil.
“Come,” Daemon said softly, climbing into the saddle. “Let us leave this cursed place.”
As they took to the skies, Daemon’s thoughts were consumed by one image: your smile, soft and hopeful, as you had spoken of the child you would never hold. He vowed that Aemond, Vhagar, and every Hightower who had played a part in your death would burn for what they had done.
#house of the dragon#hotd#hotd x reader#hotd x you#hotd x y/n#fire and blood#asoiaf#a song of ice and fire#game of thrones#hotd daemon#daemon x reader#daemon x you#daemon x y/n#daemon targaryen
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The Muse 🖌️| Ameond Tagaryen Headcanon
GOT/HOTD Masterlist
Aemond Targaryen marrying a noble who sketches/paints would look like:
To no surprise, your union to Aemond was a political alliance between your houses. Therefore you put on a brave face, accepted your duty, and courted the Prince for a short time before the wedding. In that time you learned a few things about Aemond, as he was rather reserved in the beginning, and you were the same. Civilized conversations, setting boundaries and expectations of the marriage, and promising not to cross the others line.
Having fell in love with art at a young age, you were always sketching in your notebook when alone--as your father discouraged your hobbies and expected you act like the rest of the people in court. So, hidden behind the walls of your chambers or in an empty courtyard with a quill or charcoal in hand, you sketched the beauties around you. The Godswood, the Blackwater Bay. The Septa Baelor and the Red Keep. Committing the image of the Iron Throne to memory, you inked a page with the mighty chair.
Beneath your bed you kept a trunk filled with oil paints, brushes, canvases, and other supplies you'd manage to accumulate by sneaking out to Flea Bottom with the one maid you trusted. (Not to mention you paid her a descent coin to keep your secret). All you sketched in your notebook soon took claim to a canvas. Capturing the beautiful scenery of King's Landing, you painted ships sailing in with a dragon flying in the background. Standing for hours from your bedchamber balcony, taking days or even weeks to finish the masterpiece.
With each finished portrait, you yearned for the next. Spending all your coin and pawning off materialist things given on namedays to rather buy supplies. Soon the only person besides your maid who knew of your secret hobby/talent was Helaena. You'd often spend time with the Princess and her children that one day, when asked about things that made you happy, you told her about your art. She instantly became intrigued, requesting to see the sketches/paintings and after thinking about it you eventually did show her.
Helaena was in awe of your work. "I've seen many paintings in the castle, and none have captured the King's Landing the way you do. You have an eye for beauty---I think you'd paint the family portraits better than the man they always hire." Soon your meetings evolved to you sitting by the windowsill sketching while Helaena focused on her embroidery while the children played. As a surprise nameday present for the Princess, you gifted her a portrait of her and the twins flying upon Dreamfyre. "This is the most thoughtful gift I've ever received. I shall cherish it forever and pass it on to my daughter when she's older."
Around this time, you and Aemond's relationship progressed. You two went on walks, talked more and more with each day, and accompanied him to tourneys and banquets. Your admirations for him grew, turning into genuine love roughly four moons into your marriage. Long hours in the library, watching him train, and waiting for the other to arrive at the table before diving into your meal. Quality time became the thing you both valued in your relationship. Growing to compliments and light kisses to the cheek.
Aemond had no idea of your talent. Yet he did often wonder where you'd disappear to for hours. He'd see the ink on your hands and assume you were writing letters back home. Then he noticed charcoal stains and oils on your clothes. Since your chambers were still separate, he had no knowledge of your supplies hidden under your bed or how there was an easel on the balcony where you often painted.
It wasn't until he caught sight of the painting in the nursery that Aemond discovered your knack for the arts. Helaena had been embroidering while the children played, and you were having tea with the Queen, when Aemond asked his sister where she got the painting commissioned. Not realizing you hadn't told her brother, Helaena responded with, "Your spouse surprised me with it on my nameday. They painted it themself---Isn't it lovely?" To say he was stunned was an understatement. Aemond's jaw had dropped, scanning over the canvas with intensity, muttering so low Helaena barely heard him, "It is...exceptional."
On a mission to find you, Aemond hurried the halls with haste, now aware why you always had stains on your clothes and ink on your hands. Why you spent hours in the gardens and looked tired at breakfast. When he did eventually find you, Aemond simply said, "Why did you never tell me you liked to draw and paint?" Of course you were caught off guard, becoming nervous and shrunk under his gaze, "I did not think it was important. I was always told arts and music was not for someone of noble rank like us. I feared you'd be disappointed with me."
Aemond was a little hurt you kept your love for art hidden but understood. And from then on he made it his goal to learn everything he could about the subject. Trading gifts of jewelry for oils, charcoals, and inks. Making sure you had enough parchment and canvases. Aemond never pressured you to show him your work, knowing how personal it is for an artist, and instead asked about your progress. Beaming at the way you instantly light up and spoke with pride.
He had a feeling you sketched him in your notebook. Catching you glancing up at him multiple times when he reads in the library, your hand scattering across the page with ease. Aemond would purposefully maintain his position even when he's finished the book, as to not move and make you mess up. Smiling at the charcoal staining your fingers and silently hoping one day you'd allow him to see what inked your parchment.
Completely unaware he became your source of inspiration. Your muse. You not only sketched Aemond reading, but him training in the yard. Him speaking to his mother, his brother. Aemond with the twins. Aemond watching Vhagar patrol the skies and feeding his horse. You were mesmerized with everything about him. The Prince who conquered obstacles that made you feel like you were the only person on the planet. Aemond was your heart and soul. He was your muse.
And so on your 1-year anniversary, you surprised your husband with a gift he never would've expected. A painting of him and Vhagar. The one-eyed prince, known for his stoic nature, was nearly reduced to tears by the emotion consuming his entire being. His finger trailing over the scales of his dragon, the details of his riding gear and scar. How you managed to make it look like they were flying in the sky. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, "One day, if you allow me, I would love to have you sit for me for a portrait."
And when that time came, Aemond sitting in his pristine clothes, bearing his sapphire eye to you as a proclamation of his love and trust for you, you brought out your finest oils and brushes. Painting the man you loved the way you saw him, a beauty in the eyes of the beholder. A muse to an artist.
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Midnight Interlude
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Wife Reader
Summary: You try to convince Tommy, your husband, to come back to sleep.
ao3 link
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You awoke quietly in the middle of the night, feeling the weight of your slumber resting beneath your eyes. Too tired to lift your eyelids, you shifted in the bed, searching for the comforting cradle of your husband’s arms, only to find the space beside you cold and empty.
Weakly, you opened your eyes to the dark bedroom. Blinking sleepily, you waited for your senses to adjust while attempting to recall if Tommy had mentioned anything about going on a business trip. Your head ached. Where was that Tommy of yours? You weren’t even able to think because your brain was still buzzing from a peculiar dream. Regardless, you were freezing, and without Tommy to keep you warm, you wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. You cursed, pressing a cold hand to your flushed head. Your nose squirmed at the bitter air.
You weren’t sure how many sleepless nights you could endure without your husband. Lately, he had been going on more business trips than usual and staying up late in his office. You went to sleep before him, and by the time you woke up, he was usually already going about his morning. It was if you married a ghost.
The sheets rustled when you swung your feet to the floor. You stretched your arms awake and rolled your neck to the side, receiving a satisfactory pop in return. Wrapping a silk night gown around your body, you left the bedroom, stifling a yawn as you reached his office, where you heard the cackling of candles and the amber hum peeking through from the crack beneath the door. You twisted the nob slowly, careful not to startle Tommy, and entered the room.
“Tommy? You’re still up," you croaked, rubbing at your tired eyes.
Your toes curled as a shiver passed through your body. The wooden floors of your husband’s office were always deathly cold. And where was that ambitious old soul of his? Hunched over his messy desk, squinting through his glasses as he appeared to be reading over a letter. His marble contours were more sunken each night. His thumbs twitched and fiddled with a fountain pen as if they couldn’t bear to do anything but work. The top buttons of his white blouse (that you were always sure to iron the night before) pealed back to reveal a sliver of skin that you would stare at some nights to ensure he didn’t die working himself to death.
You loved him. God, you loved him. You loved him in a way that certainly would disgust the wives from the country houses down the lane. They loved their husbands in a plain and simple way. Margaret had gushed to you about her marriage and how she had fallen into a timely routine with her husband, dancing around the clock until they fell asleep on a wonderfully fluffy mattress. You stuck your tongue in your cheek. That wasn’t love; that was what men told women love was—a choreographed routine. Tommy was different. He loved you hard. Not just because he was a man and that’s what men were supposed to do, but because he lived and breathed everything he did, even if it killed him.
“I need to write something down." Tommy cleared his throat, too distracted to look up from the letter.
If you were any other woman, you would mistake his tone for annoyance. Not you. The hollow under his eyes spoke for him. Your poor husband never knew when to rest. Even when the moonlight poured in from the window and his hands were stained with ink, that mind of his clicked away into a world only accessible to him. It must be a burden, you think, to have the intellect Tommy had—to be three steps in front of everyone else. Talking to the ladies at the country club exhausted you sometimes because all they seemed to care about was the latest silks and décor from an exotic country or babies with chubby cheeks. It had to feel something like that, like sugar rotting your teeth.
“You’ll have time in the morning,” you insisted, leaning against the doorframe and pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.
The candlelight began to flicker as it neared the end of its wick.
Tommy wet his lips. “I have an early meeting out of town.”
Your shoulders fell. You knew who Tommy was and the priorities he had to balance. His work was important to him, and he did it for his family. That included you, too. But at hours like these, when your nightgown wasn’t enough to keep you warm, you craved the comfort of his arms.
“Come back to sleep,” you whispered, crossing the threshold of the office to stand behind him, where he was hunched over on his chair, writing something down.
Tommy relaxed as you began to massage his shoulders. Those eyes that painted you blue on winter nights fell closed for a moment. His hand itched for his whiskey, resting on the icy glass but never raising it to his lips. Several cigarette butts were discarded on his ash tray, some still puffing smoke. He smelled like a mixture of the two. You remember when you were younger how your nose would scrunch up at the scent of his cigarettes. Now, it was oddly comforting.
“I need to finish writing this letter,” Tommy drawled, reaching for the cigarette case that was buried under a file of papers.
As he pinched one out, you grabbed the match box that had been sitting on the windowsill and struck a match to light it as he perched it between his lips. When the end of it lit up, Tommy took a deep drag.
“You’re a man, Tommy, not a god. You need sleep,” you sighed, squeezing his tensed shoulders.
“Not yet." Smoke escaped his mouth in light puffs as he spoke.
You blinked slowly. “Well, I’m going back to sleep.” It was a half-truth. You were never able to fall asleep after waking up in the middle of the night, especially without Tommy by your side.
Tommy’s rough palm covered your hand, which was resting on his shoulder. He cleared his throat.
“I’ll be back before you know I’m gone.”
That was never true. Every time Tommy was gone, the room stank of it. His presence consumed Arrow House; it was as if the walls were made from his flesh and bone. And when he was away, it felt like you were living in a stranger’s home. The paintings on the wall were of a random family, and his office sat as if it were abandoned in a hurry. It was only when he returned that the colors bled back into the walls and you realized you were home.
You leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss on his sharp jaw. He inhaled sharply through his nose. You noticed his attention had drifted from the letter and was now focused on the chandelier.
“Where’s that husband of mine? Hm?”
Tommy continued to take large drags from the cigarette while the both of you bathed in the crackling of the dying candlelight. Eventually, it burned out, and Tommy tapped the butt of his cigarette into the ash tray before setting it down to lean back on his chair. Now dark, he let you slip your hand from beneath his as you straightened your back and ran your nails through his scalp.
He groaned deep and nasally, fluttering his eyes closed. The tip of his tongue wet his bottom lip, and when your pupils adjusted to the dark, you saw the cogs in his head shutting off.
“Come back to sleep.”
“Alright,” he nodded with a grunt.
Most women would have said it was a miracle, not your Tommy. There was no holy spirit that possessed him to say yes. He chose to do so on his own account.
You rode that thought with a smile, turning his head to the side so you could lay a kiss on his forehead.
God, you loved him, you loved him, you loved him.
He sighed deeply, blinking lazily at his hands, which rested on his knees, before standing up. Both Tommy and his chair groaned at the movement. You hushed him and walked him to your shared bedroom, hand in hand. There, you carefully unbuttoned his blouse and slid his suspenders down his broad shoulders. Slowly but surely, you undressed him while his tired eyes watched you.
When you were younger, those eyes terrified you the same way a duck feared a rifle. What you never saw was the love they held behind glaciers of blue. Tommy made sure you saw it ever since. The ink on his hands was dry by the time they came to cup your face. His affectionate touch made more than your heart throb, but the both of you were too exhausted to do anything about it.
You settled for a kiss that he pressed against your lips. It wasn’t passionate or hungry like it usually was, but tender and firm. You loved it all the same.
“I love you." His breath settled on your skin like a warm blanket.
You closed your eyes and leaned forward, letting Tommy carry the weight of your head between his hands. You hummed when he brushed his knuckles gingerly across your cheekbones.
“I love you, too. Now, let’s get to bed before the sun rises,” you smiled, blinking up at him.
He kissed the top of your head, winding his tired arms around your frame to hold you against his chest. He hummed agreeably into your hair, letting his eyes flutter shut. Your arms wrapped themselves around his waist as he held you. You treasured small, fleeting moments like this. It wasn’t often that Thomas Shelby left his boots on the office floor and melted into a puddle. You think that made it all the more special. Your Thomas Shelby, the decorated soldier, the family businessman, and the hardened gangster could step away and become your favorite thing—a loving husband.
By the time you had both settled into the bed, the sheets were still warm, and the moon was still out. Tommy was resting on his side, with his arm draped around your waist as he snored lightly into your neck. Outside the window, the wind howled and crashed against the pane like winter waves. You felt none of it. Tommy’s body acted as a heater, protecting you from the numbing chill that waited at the edge of the covers, threatening to nip at your skin. You smiled, nuzzling deeper into his embrace. Here in the cradle of his arms, nothing could touch you.
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