#but on the other hand if you are expecting a brand new grad student to have all the answers what are you doing

[girlscience]

Last paper I was going to read has been read... it was the most interesting to me. It was about low-head dam removal and it's effects on the community make up of the fish populations in those streams. It was not a study performed by the guy I am talking to tomorrow, it was actually a grad thesis by a student that worked with him in the aquatic sciences center. Now I just have to figure out the answers to a couple questions I was recommended to have answers to because they seem likely to be asked.

[dr-demi-bee]

Should've Noticed You Sooner

It's here! 🎉After some frantic typing and generous sillies, @lastlight-inn's reward for the 200 followers give-away is finished! She requested a literary reward, and dictated my next 8k - choosing to request a brand new oneshot. And I went substantially overboard!

I'm pleased to present: Should've Noticed You Sooner

A Miri x Gale Modern AU College Roommates Romance Friends -> Lovers ~ Modern AU ~ Primalweave ~ Self-indulgent af

Pairing: Gale x f!Tav - NSFW Word Count: 18k ------------------------------------------------------------------------------Summary:

Gale and Miri, international students in America, moved in together for their last year after forging a strong friendship early in their college careers. They've been close for years now, and despite a lot of banter and some generous flirting, they've never really tried to be anything more. Despite both being wildly interested in one another.

One late evening (well, morning, really) the tension finally simmers to a boiling point. ----------------------------Read on A03-----------------------------------

Miri closes her laptop with a heavy sigh. That was enough staring at her notes for one day. She wasn’t going to accomplish anything more at this point. Leaning back in her desk chair, she rakes clawed fingers through her long red hair.

She glances at the clock on her nightstand - 2:30. It would be 8:30 at home - the farm work would already be in motion, her siblings would be sitting down for breakfast. Even after more than two years in the US, Miri’s body still wanted to follow that same routine. Or maybe it was all the night shifts catching up to her.

Either way she should be asleep and cashing in on the fact that it’s a Friday night and she’s off tomorrow. But instead she’d buried herself in biochemistry notes for entirely too long. Miri scrubs a hand over her face as she stands from her desk. She stretches slightly, popping her back with a groan.

With a sigh, she trudges from her room and towards the kitchen. Nights like these she was exceptionally grateful she didn’t have to live in the on-campus international housing. Having her own space - albeit shared with her roommate, Gale- made being something of an irregular sleeper much more tolerable.

It made a handful of other things more difficult... Like staying focused when they were both in the same room.

Gale Dekarios was unreasonably handsome - and it seemed like every year he only became more so.

Miri and Gale had met during international student orientation a few years ago - her from Germany and him from England- and formed a fast friendship sharing classes. It was an easy decision to share rent on an apartment close to campus (that accepted international visas). They had loaded the apartment with thrifted and gifted furniture, and given their similar preferences around cooking and cleaning, generally got along really well as roommates.

This was their third semester living together. Gale had left briefly over the summer to visit his mother, and it had been a bit unsettling to not have him around, if she were honest. The two of them had developed a lot of pleasant routines. Breakfast and coffee before classes or work most days. They took turns making dinner (with Gale insisting on taking more turns, but Miri wasn’t going to argue when he was so good at it.) And most weekends they would do something together or with their other friends.

What she hadn’t expected when they moved in together was how often Gale was up in the middle of the night — either reading or working on some assignment or other. This semester they were both applying to grad school and Gale was already a bit...frantic. Despite more or less having his choice of programs

When Miri flips the switch for the kitchen (which, theoretically was unnecessary given her darkvision) there’s a surprised squawk from where Gale was apparently sitting in the living room. In the dark. Staring at his laptop. Again.

He rubs his sore eyes and turns to look at her, a bit sheepish. She stares back in surprise.

"I haven't kept you up, have I?" Gale asked.

"No," Miri returns with a soft smile and a huffed laugh, "Sorry, I didn't realize you were still out here."

"Ah, it's alright," Gale shook his head. He let out a weary yawn, the bags under his eyes a sign of lack of sleep. "I shouldn’t be - but I had to get this essay out while I had the inspiration."

Gale closes his laptop, stretching his arms and his back. Then rubbing the back of his neck as he sits up straight - clearly stiff from hunching over his computer too long.

"And why are you awake?" He watches her with a curiously. "Unless you're trying to pull an all-nighter like me, you should really be sleeping."

"Just restless," Miri replies as she makes her way into the small kitchen.

"Restless?" Gale's eyebrows raised, but he didn't press further.

Miri could be exceptionally hard to read. Coming into the kitchen well past midnight could mean she’s in a mood or she’s hungry or genuinely just can’t sleep. He knew better than to prod her to say more - he’s just as likely to get a growl in response as a conversation.

And it’s hard to guess which from her expression. Miri’s piercing green eyes paired with the German stare had a way of arresting him. It felt like she could see through to his very soul. But she was also witty and playful in unexpected ways. Not to mention absurdly beautiful.

So if Miri didn't want to talk about it, Gale wouldn't pry.

"Can't get my brain to turn off," Miri replies after a yawn. She covers her mouth with the back of her hand as she does it and Gale has to look pointedly away. The sight of her sharp teeth shouldn’t intrigue him as much as it does. But it’s rare and novel and something about it is a little too exciting.

"Maybe some tea will help ease you," Gale says, rising to his feet to join her in the kitchen. He’s the resident tea-steeper - a self-professed expert. He stretches his arms overhead, revealing the bare skin of his stomach where his top rides up. "Chamomile, perhaps?"

She gives a non-committal hum. Miri glances a bit surreptitiously at him as he stretches before opening the fridge. She’s not especially subtle with those bright eyes though, and Gale notices. He can’t but feel a little pleased at the way her cheeks flush slightly. He tries to act casual, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway, but her attention definitely has a way of stroking his ego.

"Sounds like you have a lot on your mind," Gale says as he watches her rummage around the fridge.

Miri huffs a laugh, stooping to reach for one of her sparkling juices. Gale leans forward to see what she’s doing. And partly to avoid looking at her rear in those shorts. His eyebrows went up when he saw what was in her hand.

"Sparkling juice? At this time of night? Seems a little..." Gale pauses as he tries to think of the right word. "Unhealthy."

"It's juice, Gale." She gives him a skeptical brow raise. "Made of fruit."

"Sure, but it's still high in sugar, even if it is just fruit." He shrugged, his tone a tad judgmental. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s made a less than wise choice about food or drink. Gale personally found the American sweetness of things a bit grating, but Miri seemed to have quite the sweet tooth.

Miri looks at the can in her hand, turning to read the label. "That's not that much sugar," she grouses.

Gale pushed off the doorframe and walked to her side, curious and pre-emptively a bit disapproving. He peers down at her, crossing his arms and raising a brow as she shuts the fridge with her hip.

There’s a sizable height difference between them, but Gale always does his best not to loom over her. Except when she needs someone to reassess her choices.

Gale rolls his eyes and takes the can from her to read the label for himself.

"It probably tastes like the equivalent of a lollipop—" A pause. A glance at the nutritional information. "Oh."

Gale closes his mouth, a little sheepish as he puts the can back into her hand.

“I stand corrected."

"See?" Miri returns, "Juice."

"Fine, you win," Gale admits, though he does roll his eyes again. "Now why are you really drinking this? Unless you have a craving for some orange-flavored bubbles at..." he trails off to glance at the clock on the microwave. "...Nearly 3 am?”

Miri cracks open the can and glances at the clock before giving a slight shrug. "Sounded good."

"You don't seem like the type to be up in the middle of the night, let alone drinking orange juice at 3am." Gale chuckles as he leans against the counter beside her.

He gives her another look - one she’s all too familiar with at this point. Knowingly skeptical. Miri rolls her eyes at his pointed look to the lean muscles of her frame.

"And yet," Miri returns with a playful grin.

"Quite the conundrum," Gale teases back, returning a grin of his own.

Gale has a hard time not staring as she moves idly from the ball of one foot to the other. Her hair's messy and loose, out of it's usual style and braids, and she's wearing an oversized shirt and small pair of shorts for bed. He can’t stop his eyes from glancing at her legs as she moves, watching the muscles of her thighs flex.

“Did you go to the gym this morning?” The question blurts out of him before he can think it through. Thankfully she doesn’t seem to think anything of it as she replies casually.

“Yeah. It was swarming with first years, though... Fooling themselves into thinking they’ll stick to a routine if they start now.”

Gale chuckles at that. The cycle at the gym on campus was like clockwork. The beginning of every semester always had an increase in activity, and by the time the semester ended, there would hardly be anyone going not on a sports team. Save for Miri and her unwavering routine. How anyone could run and lift weights so often was a mystery. He certainly had his own routine, but it paled in comparison to hers. Maybe it was a lythari thing. Or a German thing. Hard to tell.

"Now that I think about it,” Gale muses, his tone a bit teasing, “You look like you could probably deadlift me.”

Despite the humor in his tone, Miri glances at him contemplatively. Oh gods she’s taking it seriously.

"How much do you weigh?"

Gale tilted his head back slightly, a smirk playing at his lips. He has to guess from what he remembers from last he weighed himself at the gym.

"Oh, almost 13 stone. So about... 82 kilos?" He answers, “Plus or minus one or two.”

"Then yes, I can."

Gale's smirk widens at her confidence. But it falters when she seems entirely serious. He pushes off the counter, straightening as he gives her a skeptical brow raise.

"Forgive me if I find that a bit hard to believe," he replies incredulously. "I don't think you could just pick me up like that."

"Picking you up is much easier than deadlifting."

Miri's lips split with a grin and she sets her juice down on the counter. The smirk fades from Gale's lips to be replaced with a slight look of wary surprise. When she doesn’t back down at all from her rather smug expression, Gale huffs a short laugh.

"Well then. By all means," He gestures towards himself with his hands. "Prove it."

"Alright," she returns playfully. As usual, he’s underestimating her. She’d hate thought after moving all that furniture in here he would’ve known by now she’s far from weak. (Though a part of her is convinced Gale used magic to lift his sides).

Miri moves beside him, slowly, allowing him time to reconsider - and when he doesn’t, she wraps her arms around his waist. Then she squeezes and pushes up with her legs, easily hefting him off his feet.

Gale let out a surprised laugh, his eyes wide with shock and his hands shooting up to grip her shoulders as his feet leave the floor. On instinct, he wraps his legs around her torso in a bid to avoid falling. Miri bursts out laughing as he clings on.

"I didn't think you'd hold on like a koala!"

Miri grins and Gale's face flushes a little red. When he glances down at her the position - and the feel of her arms snugly around him- only makes the redness grow worse.

"Of course I'm going to hold on," He retorts, "I don't want to fall. I like my spine not shattered..."

"What, you think I'll drop you?"

"Well I sure as hells am not going to find out," Gale grumbles, though it lacks any bite.

He tightens his legs slightly when she shifts, his hands clutching onto her. Miri watches his expression with a smug smile that broadens into a full grin. At this point he's clinging tight enough she hardly has to work to support his weight.

"Comfortable?"

Gale shoots her a glare as her smug smile grew. He knows she’ll never let this go. Any witty retort dies in his throat at how easily Miri can hold him up. Briefly, the thought flashes through him that he likes her holding him like this. And the red flush of his cheeks spreads up to his ears.

"Shut up..." He mumbles, avoiding her gaze.

"You realize you can just... put your legs down, right? I'm much shorter than you."

Gale glances down, realizing just how easy it would be for him to put his feet back on the ground, but he makes no attempt to do so.

"I don't...uh..." He tries to think of a good reason, but there really wasn't one. Only the fact that simply didn't want to let go yet. Sheepishly, he mumbles "...I like it up here.”

Miri huffs a cheerful laugh, grinning wide enough to show those lupine teeth. "I didn't peg you for the snuggly type."

Gale looks down at her his eyes narrowing playfully and his cheeks red. It's not as though Miri's made an effort to put him down or force him off either. Maybe she’s enjoying this a bit too?

Gale decides to push his luck a bit.

"Oh come on, it's not every day a pretty girl picks you up like you weigh no more than a box of feathers. Can you blame me for wanting to savor the moment?"

"Well, you're not the first to challenge me to lift them," she muses, with a smirk, "But you are the first to cling on like this."

Gale chuckles, still clinging to her letting a smug smile of his own grace his lips.

"Of course no one else has clung on like this," he answers as he rested his chin on her shoulder. He lets his voice drop a bit lower as he adds, "I'm also guessing none of them were as handsome as me."

"Mm. None come to mind," she returns playfully, turning her face to give him a coy smile, "A pretty lady or two, but no dashing gents like you."

"Good," Gale mumbles against her shoulder.

Something about knowing few have ever held her like this - that she thinks him dashing has his heart thumping. He smirks, and his arms wrapping around her shoulders a bit tighter. Emboldened a little further, his fingers cautiously trace the muscles of her shoulders. Almost reverently feeling the strength of her hidden beneath the baggy fabric of her well-worn shirt.

"If I ever do get down,” he murmurs a bit cheekily, “I expect a round of applause for being the only guy with the courage be carried by the muscle lady."

"'The muscle lady'?" Miri repeats a bit incredulously. She barks a laugh.

Gale chuckles along, a cheeky smile on his lips. He lets his fingers continue to trace the muscles in her shoulders, feeling the hard strength they held. Miri tries not to let out a sigh at the feel of it - surprisingly tender and affectionate. Something she’s not had in a long time.

"Well, forgive me, but you are pretty strong," Gale returns, giving her bicep a little squeeze. "And I'm not exactly light, so the fact you hauled me up like I weighed nothing... Pretty impressive, Miss Muscle Lady."

"Pfft. You're not heavy." Miri laughs heartily again, and the sound makes his stomach tighten.

"Hey, I'm not light either," Gale retorts, resting his chin on her shoulder again. He’s growing rather greedy to feel her warm touch. They’ve hugged plenty of times, sat close together before. Nothing quite like this.

He can’t help but notice that if he shifts his weight at all, Miri doesn’t seem phased by it. Strong as an ox...

"I feel like you're underappreciating my weight a little," he continues to tease, still clinging to the contact but trying to diffuse his nerves with humor, "I think I should be getting a bit more credit than just ‘not heavy’."

"You're lighter than I squat." Miri can’t help but tease him back, amused that his weight of all things could be a point of pride like this.

Gale huffs a short breath - momentarily silenced. His eyes widened and his brows furrow as his brain tries to work that out.

"Excuse me? You squat with my weight?"

"More than." She shifts so they're further away from the counter. "Watch-"

Gale's hands and legs tighten cautiously as she moves, his face going white with a mixture of shock and nerves.

"Y-you're not going to... drop me, right?" His voice fills with worry as she moves them towards the middle of the kitchen and away from the support of the counter.

"Hah! No."

Miri’s hands shift to grip him by his thighs, strengthening her hold. Gale only just manages to clamp down a rather undignified noise. The lythari takes a steadying breath and shifts her legs into proper position, then dips low and lifts them back up again.

Gale is almost completely speechless as she does a squat. With him clinging to her. Well. He’s certainly never had anyone do that to him before. His grip around her tightens from both concern and astonishment.

"Holy shit," he breathes. "How much weight can you squat?"

"210."

Gale's jaw drops. Miri appropriately returns the look with a smug grin.

"You can squat two hundred and ten pounds?"

Where the hells does she hide all that strength? She’s barely over five feet tall. He couldn't even begin to imagine...well, no, now he’s definitely imaging it. A bit too vividly. She could absolutely just heft him up and press him against the wall...

Miri laughs a bit smugly. It’s not often she could stun or surprise the magnificent Wizard of Waterdeep. She can’t help but picture how she could leverage her strength to her advantage. Maybe pin him underneath her and-

No, no, no, don’t go there.

"Yeah!" She glances at him with a surreptitious grin. "I should just haul you around the flat, then I wouldn't have to go to the gym."

A small part of Gale's mind wouldn't hate that. To be carried around and lifted by a gorgeous, strong woman? That's almost a dream come true. Especially if it were Miri. He swallows hard as he quickly pushes that thought out of his head.

"That'd be a bit extreme," he replies, trying his best to sound casual as he looks back at her.

"Mm. I guess." Miri looks thoughtful. IT would be nice to not have to go to the on campus gym... "I should get a pull up bar..."

"You could, or maybe just pick me up for your training instead." The offer slips out before he could stop himself, his mouth moving before his brain could register what was happening. Realizing what he'd said, Gale flushes a little pink again, his head bowing to rest his forehead against her shoulder and hide his face.

"You're a bit smart for a dumbbell," Miri teases back, unable to suppress a soft laugh at his reaction. Gale lets out a longsuffering sigh, burying his head further against her shoulder.

"At least make me your kettlebell," He mumbles, though there's an amused tone in his voice.

"How would that work?" Miri returns with a grin. "You're way too big."

"You could hold me by my ankles and swing me around," Gale suggests sarcastically. He tamps down the rather unhelpful thoughts his brain supplies after that. He smirks and suggests something else. "Or I could sit on your back and hold a weight while you do pushups."

Miri laughs heartily, her head tipped back. Gale smiles at the sound of her laughter, amused at his own stupid suggestions and the fact they made her laugh so much. It was often a goal of his to get her to break that stoic front and bring out the goofy streak beneath.

"Or maybe-" he pauses with another idea, a cheeky smile growing on his lips as he moves to wrap his arms more loosely around her neck once more and leaning back slightly "-you could do pull ups with me hanging on like this."

"Not sure they sell pull up bars for at home that could hold both our weight," Miri returns with a smirk, "At least, not that wouldn't violate the lease."

"Damn lease regulations," He returns with a chuckle and a commiserating grin. "They ruin everything."

"I know," she huffs, "The absolute tyranny."

"Utter tyranny," He agrees, shifting slightly as he tried to get more comfortable in his koala position. "Damn landlords have no compassion for those who wish to train their strength by pulling each other up."

Miri grunts slightly as he shifts his weight. She quirks a brow at him. Gale smirks as he adjusts himself, tightening his legs around her waist. She has to ignore the way that damned smirk never fails to make her chest warm.

"Staying are you?"

"What can I say? It's quite comfortable up here," Gale teases, clasping his hands behind her neck. With her unbothered reaction to all of it thus far, he grows increasingly bold. His fingers play idly with the soft strands of her long hair, twirling them between his fingers.

"Needy," Miri returns with a soft smile and playfully disapproving brows. The smile turns a bit mischievous as she continues, "Then at least pull your own weight."

Using her grip beneath his thighs, she pulls him closer so his weight is balanced more over her hips. Caught off guard, Gale makes a high sound of surprise. His legs reflexively lock behind her back and his arms tighten around her neck and shoulders.

With the adjustment she can have a hand free to grab her juice and take a swig.

"H-hey!" Gale protests. His counter point dies on his tongue when he realizes this new position was more comfortable for both of them. Although with the way his groin now pressed against her lower stomach... "You did that on purpose."

"Yeah?" Miri grins and quirks a brow up at him. Gale huffs, a hint of a pout on his lips. How cute... Miri can’t pass up an opportunity like this. To finally have Gale close. Even if it’s a bit awkward. She’s wanted to touch and feel his body for...well, entirely too long.

"Don't gimme that look," Gale grumbles, resting his head against her shoulder again. He’s silent for a moment, his hands shifting to trace idle patterns against the strong muscles of her back. Finally he murmurs softly in her ear - his tone caught somewhere between embarrassment and desire, "So...how long can you carry me for?"

Hearing that tone from Gale just makes her want to press her luck a little further.

"Oh, I dunno," Miri replies sounding playfully thoughtful, "Just standing here, probably a while."

"Oh really?" Gale says, lifting his head to give her a disbelieving look. A slow smirk returns to his lips, before he asks, “How long exactly is a while?"

He quirks a brow in challenge before shifting his upper body, pushing slightly away from her shoulders so some of his weight hangs away from her. Gale’s still holding tight with his legs, so it’s only a small fraction he’s moved - but it’s enough she has to adjust. Miri leans back slightly to counterbalance, tightening her core to hold steady.

“Hard to say. It's not exactly in my usual routine," she quips back with a gsrin.

Gale lets out a chuckle, tightening his grip around her shoulders with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Not? Maybe I should be added to your routine then," he teases.

"I'll be sure to pencil in 'Gale carries' for leg-day."

"Hey! That sounds like I’m the one doing the carrying," he quips back, shifting his weight again to hand even further away. Miri grunts again as he makes it more difficult. "Seems to me like it's more like 'Miri carries Gale'."

"Oh, forgive me, how unclear of me. I'll amend the record," she retorts, playing up her accent. Miri pretends to erase and write with one hand. Gale laughs as she 'writes down' the correction, his smirk growing even as his legs tighten around her waist at the feel of her hand leaving his thigh.

"And here I thought I was the smartass in this house," he teases, keeping up his playful tone while shifting once more in an attempt to push her limits. How long could she really hold him for? How long would she hold him...?

"I thought you didn't want me to drop you?" Miri grits with a grin.

Gale chuckles as he continues to press his luck and push her tolerance. The lilt of his lips is decidedly mischievous.

"What's the matter, worried I'll wear you out?"

Miri snorts. "Oh, excuse me. I didn't know I'd be getting an extra set in at 2:30 in the morning."

"Oh, I'm pretty light for someone your size," Gale teases back with a grin, "Shouldn't be too much of a strain for how strong you are."

"'My size' he says." Miri huffs a laugh, though it’s starting to sound a bit strained.

"I'm not wrong though," he replies, grinning as he continues to shift against her. Doing his best to feel the strength in her body for as long as she’ll let him. "You're only a few inches shorter than me, but you've absolutely got me beat in the muscle department."

"A few? Like 10."

Gale's grin widens.

"I stand corrected then," he replies cheekily, "You're a very short, very strong muscle lady."

Miri’s retort is cut short when Gale deliberately presses his hips against her - absolutely pressing his luck as far as it could go. This can either go very right, or they could pretend it never happened. They’ve flirted plenty before, right?

Miri arches a brow at him, noting his very intentional movement - and the very obvious way it presses his groin against her lower stomach. There’s no way that was an accident. She can feel her cheeks heating. And other things. Gale smirks back at her catching onto his not-so-subtle gesture.

"What can I say?” Gale murmurs with an air of smugness in the lilt of his lips. Despite his hard to suppress desire surging to the forefront in his probably too-tired mind, he can’t quite avoid the urge to mask it with humor. To hide in this usual dance of theirs. “I have a gorgeous, incredibly strong woman holding me up, it's kind of hard not to want to take advantage of the moment."

"Kind of hard, is it?"

Miri fingers grasp a bit more tightly to the meat of his thighs, sharp nails pressing gently into his skin through his shorts. Maybe he’s just joking. Maybe he’s teasing her. But that is not nothing...and neither is the flush of his cheeks. Bright green eyes roam his face curiously, searching.

Gale chuckles at her equally playful response - that she so quickly latched onto his little innuendo. The feel of her hands against him is nothing short of electric, and he’ll use any excuse to keep this going.

"You have a dirty mind," he teases, shifting once more. This time he presses hips pushed against her a little more firmly.

"Yes, I'm sure the fault lies entirely with me," Miri returns sarcastically. She pulls him closer - just a fraction.

"Of course it does," he agrees with an amused grin. "I don't know what you're talking about, I've done nothing wrong here."

Gale shifts once more - adjusting to how she pulls him against her. Decidedly a bit more than half hard now, his breath catches a little as he presses against her stomach a bit more. She feels so warm through that ratty old shirt. The plane of her stomach so firm.

"Mhmm." Miri arches her brow at him again. Two can play this game you absolute tease.

She grasps him more firmly by the thighs and bends forward intentionally, lowering his upper body towards the ground. Gale's smirked fades and his eyes widen at the sudden shift to almost parallel to the ground. He instinctively tightens his arms around her neck to keep himself from dangling, his thighs wrapping around her more firmly.

"F-fucking hells," he breathes.

"Something wrong?" Miri replies with a grin. She shakes slightly with the effort, but manages to hold him steady. Not like he has very far to fall if she did accidentally lose her grip.

Gale's heart hammers in his chest as he tries to remain as calm and collected as possible at the sudden and unexpected angle. Not to mention the way this puts her face rather close to his chest and her chest... He swallows, trying to ignore the growing tightness in his pants.

"Nothing's wrong," he says as casually as he can, his voice faltering slightly.

"Good," Miri says with a smirk.

Tightening her core to keep them steady, she slowly bends further, until Gale's shoulders finally make gentle contact with the floor. He lets out a small sound of surprise as the back of his shoulders finally touch the tile, his legs and upper body nearly vertical. If she weren’t straining Miri would be tempted to laugh at the small jolt of surprise that runs through him.

Gale slowly lowers his head to the floor, his hair a mess of tresses splaying out beneath him and he looks up at her wide-eyed and blushing. It’s rather adorable.

Being held almost upside-down the blood rushes to his face. Miri’s smirk widens into a full grin. Now he’s not just lightheaded from the angle, but also the way she looks at him. It’s almost predatory.

"F-fuck..." he whispers.

She huffs from the exertion. But with his shoulders finally on the ground, some of his weight is taken off her frame. It’s something of a relief to have some of his weight transferred off her waist. She lowers him a bit more so his back is on the ground. She's surprised when he keeps clinging to her.

"I've put you down," she pants, "You can let go."

A part of him wants to - to release his limbs from where they were tightly wrapped around her but...he was enjoying this too much. With an amused but slightly flustered expression, he tightens his legs around her instead.

"Why would I let go when I'm having so much fun?"

"I think I'm done carrying you, koala," Miri returns with a soft huff. His limbs around her keep her stuck in place.

"Oh, come on," Gale replies, a pout in his voice. "Just a few minutes longer? I'm not that heavy."

Miri barks a laugh. He tightens his grip, refusing to let her get away now that they’re in this new position. She has to plant her hands on the floor beside his shoulders to support herself with the way he still hangs on. And she vehemently ignores the little voice in her head pleading for her to just push him the rest of the way to the floor and climb on top. The singing tension in her back is enough to remind her not to.

"Gods, you're as bad as my nieces and nephews," she huffs, then playfully imitates a child's voice, "Five more minutes, Aunt Miri."

It earns her a hearty chuckle from the man-child over staying his welcome in her arms. She can’t tell if the reddening of his cheeks is from the blood flow or from the way he keeps pressing his hips upward.

"Your nieces and nephews have good taste," he quips, "Being carried like a baby in your very strong, very capable arms isn't a bad experience."

"Not quite how I'd hold a baby," she muses breathlessly, "But sure."

"Oh? How would you hold a baby then?" Gale’s eyes narrow playfully as he arches a brow. He shifts his legs middle again, trying to get a little more comfortable. But his efforts only seem to bring their hips closer together. Not that he minds.

"Usually cradled, or on one hip," Miri snorts, "Y'know, how babies are held."

"Am I not good enough to be held as a baby? Is cradling a 22-year-old man too hard for you?"

Gale smirks as he continues to shift his body against her, his legs squeezing around her waist. Miri laughs. She adjusts her arms slightly, trying not to let him pull her down on top of him. Gale grins at the sound of her laughter, his hands clutching tight to her shoulders.

"I'm starting to see more parallels," she teases back. When he shifts his hips again, Miri intentionally squeezes the meat of his thighs, drawing a gasp from him. The quick aversion of his eyes suggests he hopes she didn’t hear it. But he knows better.

“Is that so?” Gale certainly won’t let that go unchallenged. If they’re to dance, he’ll gladly escalate. He shifts his lower body against her, leveraging his legs around her waist to pull her tighter against his hips. “What parallels might those be?"

"Clingy. Needy." Miri smirks. "A bit fussy?"

"Me? Fussy? I beg your pardon," he replies, feigning offense. With another cheeky smirk and wiggle of his hips his presses his significantly less than half hard need against her. Breathless and teasing, he adds, "I prefer the term attention seeking.”

"Same thing," Miri returns shaking her head. She groans slightly, long canines biting at her lip as she strains. "Alright, I think my back is starting to get pretty mad at me."

"Alright, alright," he sigh reluctantly. He tries to ignore the sharp twist in his stomach at the thought that this might just end without anything more happening between them.

Gale unwinds himself from around her, letting go of her shoulders and transferring his weight to the floor. Miri pries his legs off and when she stands upright it’s with a loud groan. She leans back the opposite way with her hands on her lower back.

"Fucking hells," she grumbles before her back pops. Gale sit up and watches her with a soft smirk, wincing at the sound.

"Remind me to never make you angry," he teases, "I don't want to find out what a punch from those muscles would feel like."

“Hah! A good life lesson," she returns with a smirk. Miri rotates her upper body back and forth a few times to loosen the tension in her back.

"I suppose so," he murmurs, eyes lingering on what muscles he could make out in her arms past the sleeves of her oversized shirt. As she shifts the hem of that oversized shirt lifts to show more of those ridiculous little shorts, and those even more ridiculous thighs-

Having felt them supporting him, carrying him all too effortlessly, Gale found it impossible to tear his eyes away. Miri's small and lithe, but every inch of her frame is densely corded with muscle. The quiet intensity of her strength is somehow simultaneously terrifying and incredibly attractive.

She huffs and shakes her arms out before going to retrieve her juice. Gale's eyes can’t help but follow, his gaze lingering. If it were anyone else she would be intimidating. But it’s Miri. And if he’s honest he’s never had such a good friendship - such a good bond with just about anyone.

And yet here he is again, on his ass in their kitchen, just staring. His mind positively buzzing with questions. With images. Again. Is she leaning over the counter like that intentionally? Did that mean anything to her? Miri noticed, she grinned, she liked it...

Maybe he could do more-

What would she do if they finally kissed-

How would she sound if-

Miri leans over the counter, trying to steady the thundering of her heart. She’s grateful for the moment to turn away - to look away from his face. His perfect, smug, bearded face and those plush lips-

Her face is burning hot - though she can’t decide if it’s hotter than the churning in her stomach. Why had she done that? She shouldn’t have picked him up in the first place, let alone all of...that.

Miri takes a long swallow of her juice before scrubbing a hand over her face. This can is just about the same width as-

STOP.

Gale lets out a sigh, as he shakes his head, trying in vain to clear away the myriad images his mind unhelpfully supplies of Miri. Seen and unseen. But when his eyes finally drift back up to her, trailing up the thick, silky length of her wine dark hair they snag on her ears. One long tip exposed as he head tilts to one side.

And it’s pink.

Flushed enough it makes his heart stutter in his chest.

Miri only blushes like that for two reasons. She’s either drunk or someone she likes is flirting with her. Both rare, only one definitely not applicable here.

“Miri,” Gale blurts out her name - unable to mask the shock or the enthusiasm in his tone. And when she turns to look at him with an arched brow he realizes with a jolt his mouth has moved before his brain can catch up.

What on Toril is that look for? Miri’s grateful for the can still at her lips when she meets his gaze. There’s something there she’s never seen - his pupils are wide and his cheeks are still flushed, but she can’t put her finger on what that expression is. Whatever it is makes her breath catch.

“What?”

It’s there. Clear as day on her face. As they stare at one another a bit wide-eyed Gale sees that flush across the bridge of her nose and over her cheeks.

She liked it.

Likes him?

Gods damn him, he needs to find out. Just that little dusting of pink is enough to make his ego swell. Gale lifts a knee to prop up one of his arms, and doesn’t fail to notice the way her eyes flicker over the movement and across his chest before they’re back on his face. His lips quirk up slowly into a confident grin.

“Think you’d ever do that again?”

"Careful what you wish for," Miri returns with a laugh, brushing it off.

"Oh, don't worry," He chuckles, that damn confident smirk on his lips. "I'm not afraid of a little manhandling."

"Clearly," Miri retorts from over her can. She looks away briefly as she finishes her juice. That look in his eyes...

Gale nods. That’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s standing and swaggering his way to her side.

"In fact, I think I'm in the mood right now," he purrs, his eyes filled with mischief. Delighted at the way that’s enough to bring her eyes snapping back to him.

Miri quirks a brow at him as he approaches. His grin widens when she straightens in response to him moving closer. A thrill runs through them both when he places his hands on her hips.

"A mood?" Miri questions softly, looking up at him.

"Mhmm," he hums, running his hands down her hips in a way that could only be described as possessive. "I’d like to see how much you can handle..."

Gale leans closer, slowly guiding her - always gently and soft enough she could easily break away if she wanted. But she never once breaks eye contact as backs her out of the kitchen and towards the nearest wall.

Miri's brows raise with surprise as he steers her backwards. Her pulse skyrockets at the look in his eyes. That lilt of his lips is nearly wicked.

"Do you?"

"Oh, definitely," he replies with a smirk as he crowds her back against the wall.

Large, warm hands knead a path down her sides and over her hips, before grasping her thighs. It’s almost too easy to lift the lythari off the ground. Miri squeaks with surprise at the sudden move.

"Gotcha," he teases lowly, his grin thoroughly self-satisfied. His fingers knead the plush muscle of her thighs as he holds her up, leaning her back firmly against the wall.

"No escaping now," Gale murmurs firmly.

Miri laughs a bit nervously. Her hands grip onto his shoulders - hesitantly at first, always mindful of her sharp nails - before she squeezes a bit more firmly. Gale chuckles back, positively thrilling at having her pinned where he could do as he liked. His grip on her thighs tightens and he pushes himself against her, their bodies flush.

Tentatively, Miri wraps her legs around his waist. Her cheeks flush a darker pink, and Gale's smirk widens. The feel of her legs over his hips, of her wrapping herself around him, drives him to new heights. Gods above.

"Comfortable?" He asks in a tauntingly cheeky tone.

"Getting there," she returns softly.

"Just getting there?" He echoes with an arched brow. He shifts his body against hers again, his hands on her thighs pulling them apart slightly. Miri gasps. She reflexively tightens her grip around his shoulders. A wicked spike of heat pulses through his stomach at the sound, a raw sort of pride welling up inside him from her reaction. His voice low and sultry, he teases in her ear, "I could make her more than comfortable, if you want...”

Hearing that little sound of surprise and feelin her clutching onto him makes him want to tease her even further. Bold, he presses his hips more firmly against hers and leans his head slightly to breathe a dark murmur in her other ear.

"That little gasp you made was cute," he purrs.

"Cute?" Miri breathes back. Her face gets a bit redder as he presses against her and he chuckles huskily at the sight.

"Yeah, really cute," he repeats. He leans in even closer, his lips just inches from the sensitive skin of her long ear. He practically growls his next words, his tone dripping with the lust he can’t hold back anymore. "I could see myself getting really addicted to that sound."

Gods above, Miri, how did you get here ? And since when is Gale Dekarios this masterful at flustering you to all hells?

"Aren't you greedy?" Miri huffs back. She smirks slightly, but she's red to the tips of her long ears now.

"Definitely," he replies without shame, grinning as her tries to act cheeky despite being flustered. He rolls his hips against hers slowly, making sure to keep his body tight against hers.

Miri bites her lip slightly at the feel of him pressing his excitement against her - hot through the thin fabric of their shorts. Her breath catches.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to have you trapped like this," he murmurs huskily.

"Oh-" she gasps again.

The sound is extremely satisfying, rushing straight between his legs, and he savors every little reaction from her. His hands knead her thighs, gripping and squeezing reflexively as he pushes himself against her again.

"Do you feel that?" he asks in a low, sultry tone.

"Ah- yes." Her voice sounds reedy even to her own ears. How could she not?

"That's all because of you," he whispers, his voice raw and deep. He groans softly as he continues to press against her, the feeling of her soft, warm body flush against his making him even harder. "You have no idea what kind of effect you have on me, Miri...”

Miri groans softly, the friction teasing her.

"Is this...new?"

His tilts his head and presses his lips tentatively to her neck, kissing at the skin there gently as he continues his agonizingly slow, rhythmic movements against her.

"No," he mutters between kisses, "Definitely not new."

Miri gasps another soft sound, her legs twitching slightly. She tilts her head for him, her long hair shifting out of the way.

"I've thought about this for a long time," he confesses in a low tone, his breaths coming hot and ragged against her neck.

"You have?" Miri questions softly.

“I have. A lot," he replied, his lips leaving a few more kisses along her skin before he continues.

"Every time you show off how strong you are, or when I see your muscles after you finish a workout-" Gale groans quietly against her throat, his hips continuing to press against her with a slow, rhythmic motion. Desperately fighting to maintain control now. "When I hear you growl when you're annoyed-"

His lips continue to tease at her throat, unable to stop himself from nibbling along the skin as he continues to speak. The friction and heat between them just seems to grow more and more.

"Mmhh-" Miri’s breath leaves her in a sharp exhale when she feels his teeth make contact with her skin. Her stomach feels practically molten under his attentions.

"You have no idea how many dreams I've had about you," he confesses, his voice low and sultry, "About your strong hands all over me, pinning me down..."

"Ah- really?" Miri’s voice is rough and low when she replies.

"I dream about you all the time," he continues in a whisper, his lips moving further down into the crook of her neck, "About all the things I want to do to you-"

"I didn't realize -" Miri pauses with a soft, breathless moan. Her hands squeeze a bit more firmly against his shoulders before one shifts to tangle in his hair. Something to ground herself and prove she didn’t actually fall asleep at her desk. He feels warm and real against her skin... "Like what?"

A satisfied smirk pulls his lips from her skin - the delicious sparks along his scalp as she plays with his hair is the cherry on top of the signs of her enjoyment. His hips continues to move against hers, continuing to tease her with that delicious friction. Gale moves back up to her ear, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin there.

"You want me to go into specifics?"

"Yeah," she returns, hooking an arm around his shoulders. Miri tugs softly at his hair with the other hand, eliciting a soft groan that makes her smirk. "Give me a specific example."

"You really want to know that badly?" he teases, nipping at her ear before continuing, absolutely delighting in the soft sound she makes. "Alright, then..."

He leans back just far enough to meet her gaze, feeling the heat sparking between them.

"Remember when we watched that action movie last week?"

"Ugh that movie was terrible."

“Yes, it was. But that's not what I'm talking about," He chuckles lowly, a hint of amusement in his tone. "I'm referring to when you got frustrated by that rather asinine character being dense."

"What about it?" Miri's brows furrow with confusion. Gale chuckles again at her confusion, amused by her obliviousness.

"You got all annoyed and grumbly. I had to stop for a minute and remember to breathe," he confesses, his voice a low murmur against her ear, "I spent the whole damn night thinking about those little growls you made when you were pissed off."

"My growling?" Miri huffs a soft laugh, incredulous. "That's what you're dreaming about?"

"Yes," he answers simply, his breath hot against her skin, "I’m not sure what it is, but hearing you growl like that just makes me want you more."

Miri's lips tip up with a bemused smile - such a commonplace thing to be excited by. But it quickly turns mischievous. She leans in closer to his ear, making sure her chest is pressed flush against his.

"This growl?" She asks softly. The soft purr of her voice makes his breath hitch. Miri rumbles a low growl of irritation in her chest - just like what he would’ve heard that night. Gale stiffens against her as her growl vibrates through him. A shiver of pure desire runs through him.

"F- fuck," he curses softly, his grip on her thighs tightening on reflex.

"Ooh, it is," she murmurs smugly. Miri’s grin widens and she lets out another lower, more predatory growl.

He lets out a shaky breath, the effects of that low, guttural sound sending a shiver of pleasure straight to his core. Gale shifts against her, the friction between their bodies becoming downright intoxicating. Miri's confidence is bolstered by his response - especially the lack of verbal riposte.

"You know," she murmurs, pulling her fingers through his hair and drawing a soft shiver and another delightful groan from him, "Lythari don't only growl when they're mad."

His eyelids flutter slightly. Gale’s hips continues to grind against her - feeling practically on fire with desire. She seems bent on driving him absolutely mad.

"They don't?" he asks with a low, ragged breath. "What are other reasons they growl?"

"Lots of reasons," she returns, "Dominance, possession, passion, pleasure..." She leans in to press a kiss just below his ear. "Play your cards right and you can even make a lythari purr."

His breath hitches again, his heart racing in his chest. He was already hanging onto her every word, but at that last little tidbit he groans involuntarily, a shiver running through his body.

"Oh, please," he breathes, already delirious from her touch and her tone.

"Sorry, that's the only one I can't do on command," Miri says softly, lips a torturously smug expression showing a hint of those sharp teeth.

"Damn it," he curses under his breath, groaning again as his head involuntarily tilts to the side, giving her more access to his neck. "Why'd you have to say it now? I'll never be able to stop thinking about it."

Miri groans softly when he exposes his neck. She leans in but hesitates - even as Gale lets out a soft sound between whine and groan. She can't let that be first contact. So she pulls back, moving her hand to his face, tilting it towards hers.

"Consider it a goal," she breathes, before tugging him in - finally- for a kiss.

The moment her hand touches his face and tugs him closer, he eagerly follows her lead, practically meeting her halfway. This is what he'd dreamed of, what he'd hoped and longed for, for so long. She is soft and warm and perfect. Having her here in his arms, pressed up against him like this - it’s something out of his best fantasies.

Gods he’s wanted to kiss Miri for longer than he can recall. Maybe always. He responds immediately, his lips moving hungrily against hers, seeking more of her touch, of her taste, of her.

This she's dreamed of. He's good- or maybe she's just wildly out of practice- it's delightful. He’s heat and tenderness and need. Miri moans softly against his lips, tugging his hair softly to keep him close.

Gale groans into the kiss, the sound quickly turning into a quiet, throaty moan as she tugs at his hair. He practically melts beneath her touch, his brain going fuzzy with his desire.

Miri nips his bottom lip gently, drawing a gasp, before licking it with the tip of her tongue. The feeling of her tongue has his knees practically buckling. He returns the favor, his lips seeking hers again, his tongue delving into her mouth, tasting every inch of her he could reach. Gale's hands on her thighs grips tighter, the fingers of one hand slowly creeping up and under the hem of her shorts.

Miri whimpers softly, stroking her tongue against his when it comes between her lips. Her legs tighten around his waist and Gale grips at them reflexively. His hands run up the back of her thighs, slipping under her shorts and reaching the soft, sensitive skin of her rear.

His fingers dug into her flesh, firmly gripping her in his hands, pulling her closer against him even as he presses firmly against her. Miri jolts slightly with surprise, breaking their kiss with a gasp. But it melts into delight and she's kissing him again.

It’s all consuming - lips and tongue and teeth moving fiercely - taking, needing, feeling. Exploring one another at long last.

He needs more of her, practically craving her like a drug.

She can’t get enough needs him closer.

Miri tugs at his hair again and he moans. Her other hand trails nails over his back where she can reach - gentle, teasing. His body arches under her touch. He loves it, the little hint of pain and pleasure making him shiver as his hands grips her ass even tighter.

"I want you so badly," he breathes between kisses, his words a ragged gasp against her lips.

"Your room or mine?" Miri breathes back.

"Mine," he answers immediately, his voice a low, urgent murmur against her lips. "I want you in my bed-" He breaks off, one of his hands leaving her shorts to travel her back, his fingers tracing along her spine as he pulls her into him and away from the wall. "I need you in my bed-"

Her back arches at the touch and she shivers. She kisses over his face, and squeezes her legs a little tighter around his waist, locking her ankles together. He groans again, the feeling of being caught so completely by her making his head spin.

"Then let's go," she murmurs.

Her response had him practically growling, his lips moving on instinct against the skin of her face, seeking her mouth again, wanting more of her.

" Gods-, " he gasps. "I'm not sure I can make it down the hall like this-"

"I bet you can," Miri purrs. A huff of a laugh escapes him, a mix of amused and aroused, and he quickly shifts his arms under her body, lifting her up against him.

"You're a hell of a handful, y'know that?" he teased, starting his way toward his bedroom with her wrapped around him.

"What'd you say the other day?" Miri teases, tightening her arms around his neck, "'The best things in life are the most challenging'?"

Gale laughs softly, the sound rough and a little breathless as his body thrums with the desire to have her. At the feel of being so fucking close.

"Are you trying to turn me on even more than you already have?" he asks, turning the corner and striding toward his room.

"Maybe?" She nips at his earlobe.

He groans, the sound low and throaty. Between her teeth against his skin and her legs wraps around him, he is nearly aflame. Gale practically stumbles into his room, throwing the door open. He all but throws her down onto the bed, drawing a surprised shrieking laugh from her. It dies quickly as he climbs on, and she snakes her arms around him when he lays over top of her.

"I would've worn something nicer if I knew I was going to make it to your room," she murmurs with a soft grin.

"You're kidding, right?" he asked, his brow raising slightly. "You already look sexy as hell."

He leans forward and nuzzles at her hair, breathing in the scent of her, letting his body press down against hers. He shifts one of his legs between hers, pressing his knee up against her, wanting to feel more of her. Miri groans softly, her head tipping back.

"I'm not going to need anything else," he whispers against her ear.

"But it's pajamas-" she counters, "And not even cute ones."

He chuckles, his lips finding the exposed skin of her throat, pressing tender kisses all the way up.

"As if that matters," he breathes against her skin. With a smirk, his hands move to the hem of her shirt, sliding it up to bare the skin of her stomach. "I'm undressing you anyway."

Miri huffs, but feels some of the anxiety fizzling away with his reassurances. The muscles of her stomach tense and shift beneath the warmth of his hands . Her breath hitches in her throat as he makes his way higher.

His hands trail higher up along the skin of her stomach, his lips peppering her neck with kisses. When he reaches the bottom of her sports bra, his hands pause, his fingers playing with the elastic. He pulls back from her neck to look down at her, a smirk on his lips.

"May I?" he asked, his voice a low, eager murmur.

"Yeah," she answers breathlessly.

Gale smiles that charming grin of his and quickly peels her shirt and bra off, pausing to admire the sight of her, half naked, laid out beneath him on his bed. Gods it’s a dream come true - he fights the urge to pinch himself. His eyes roam over her form, taking in every detail, every freckle, the sharp planes of her body.

Miri shivers under his gaze, her chest moving with shallow breaths. Her flush spreads from her cheeks to her chest. She knows she's fit, sure, but she's self-conscious about being small and a bit flat (hard not to get in one's own head growing up with several very attractive sisters). She can't help but feel nervous to be appraised. At least, by someone she truly wants.

He notices her nerves, the little shiver that runs through her, the way her gaze flickers away under his gaze, and it almost breaks his heart. He can't fathom why she would feel nervous - she’s strong, and lean, and absolutely gorgeous. As he's concerned, Miri is perfect. Better than he had even imagined.

Holding her gaze, Gale leans down to press a kiss to the skin between her breasts. His hands shift to hold her sides as his lips continue to trail lower. It’s almost easy to get lost in her, the constellations on her skin, the smooth warmth of her. Miri’s fingers card through his hair and he lifts his gaze to hers, his lips still pressed to the skin of her stomach.

"You're adorable," he whispers, his voice filled with affection.

"Adorable?" She repeats. Her brows steeple. Not exactly the praise she had been hoping for. A bit...diminutive.

"Adorable, sexy, I would tell you you're beautiful too-” His lips go back to her skin, continuing the trail downwards, blazing a path down her torso. “-but I'm also in the middle of something very important-"

His hands slide down her sides, exploring every inch. Miri barks a laugh at his reply.

"Oh, sorry to interrupt," Miri returns sarcastically.

He laughs under his breath, shaking his head slightly.

"I'm trying to focus here," he protests in mock irritation, his hands still caressing her sides, his thumbs tracing small circles on her hips. Gale teases her with a playful expression, his fingers playing with the hem of her shorts. "How am I supposed to tell you how gorgeous you are when I'm trying to get you out of these damn shorts?"

"I thought you liked these?" Miri returns playfully.

"Oh, I do," he admits, "But they're in my way right now." He hooks his fingers into the waist of her shorts, slowly beginning to pull them down over her hips. Those large brown eyes are pleading and dark as he meets her gaze. "I'm more interested in what's under them-"

"So impatient," she returns with a smirk. Miri lifts her hips slightly to help.

"You’re damn right I am.” Gale watches enraptured as her shorts come off. Leaving her in just her underwear. Lying on his bed. Beneath him. And more radiantly beautiful than he ever imagined. His eyes drink her in, hungrily roving over her body, taking in every bit of her, and he groans in delight.

His words are a ragged murmur when he can finally speak. "You're gorgeous- More than- Divine...."

"Seems a bit unfair," Miri returns softly, gesturing towards him. She’s only ever afforded glimpses. The chance to see more - feel more- has her heart pounding and her core starting to ache.

He looks down at himself, realizing he's still fully clothed, and he chuckles.

"I suppose it is," Gale agrees. But he's not in a big rush to fix it, not when he has her like this, beneath him on his bed. Until he imagines her seeing him equally undressed, looking up at him like this-

That’s enough to make his body thrum with anticipation.

"Wanna take it off for me?" he teased, his eyes on hers, a smirk on his lips.

"Hells yeah," Miri replies with a grin. Miri holds her arms out and beckons with her fingers. "C'mere."

Gods- he loves how eager she is. The way she looks at him with those dark, hungry eyes - the sound of her voice as her arms are held out for him. He moves closer, leaning down over her and bracing his hands bracing on either side of her.

"Now what?" Gale asks with a smile, his voice low and playful.

"Now it's my turn," Miri replies with a grin. She wraps her arms around his middle, and with a twist rolls them both over so she's straddling his hips.

"Well," he says, his voice breathless with laughter, "You're not wasting any time, are you?"

"Your impatience is contagious," she returns playfully. "And I've been curious for ages about what you keep hidden under those baggy shirts."

Her hands find their way under his shirt, nimble fingers exploring the planes of his stomach as she works the fabric up. His breath hitches in his throat as her hands make their way under his shirt, her fingers tracing over his skin and making him shiver from her touch.

"You do realize I sleep topless right?" Gale teases, shifting under her touch, moving to help her pull his shirt off. Miri huffs a laugh.

"How would I know that?" She pulls his shirt the rest of the way off and tosses it towards his hamper.

"Fair point-" he admits, watching as the shirt goes flying.

He lays there, shirtless, his chest and stomach bare under her gaze, and suddenly, he feels vulnerable. Gale looks up at her, trying to see the look on her face, trying to figure out what she’s thinking.

"So, what do you think?" he asks, a hint of insecurity creeping into his voice.

"Absolutely ridiculous-" Miri returns, her eyes roaming him with a dark gaze, "That you've been keeping this to yourself." She looks up at him with an accusatory expression. "You're even hotter than I thought, and that's hardly fair."

A flush spreads across his cheeks and down his neck at her words, but the sight of her gaze roaming his body and the look on her face have his heart racing, his nerves replaced by a rush of heady arousal. He swallows hard, trying to collect his thoughts, his words.

"It- it's not my fault you never asked-" he protests faintly.

"Oh, yeah, I'm just supposed to waltz in, and 'hey Gale, you should take her shirt off'-" Miri blow a soft dismissive sound. She leans in to trail kisses down the side of his neck.

"Ridiculous," she breathes, her kisses moving lower, "Fucking Adonis..."

Gale laughs softly, the sound turning shaky as her lips move across his neck, her kisses sending jolts of electricity down his spine and straight to his groin. He arches slightly beneath her, the feeling of her body against his sending waves of heat through him. His hands move, resting on her hips, his fingers tracing over her bare skin.

"Are you really complaining?" he asks breathlessly as her kisses trail lower.

"Yes," she returns with mock severity. Her tongue flits out to taste his skin as she kisses her way down his chest. Her hands smooth down his sides before she hooks her fingers in the waistband of his shorts.

He can't help but groan in response to her ministrations, the feeling of her hands roaming and her tongue on his skin and her hands roaming over him nearly short-circuiting his brain completely. The sound of her voice calling him 'Adonis' is going to be on repeat in his mind for weeks, he just knows it.

His breath is quick and heavy when he answers her, though the words come out as a ragged gasp.

"Why the hells are you complaining if you think I'm hot?"

He laughs softly underneath her, but his laughter is cut off by a soft gasp as her teeth graze his chest. She alternates between teasing gentle kisses and the occasional sharp nip and it’s driving him mad.

"Because you've been keeping this to yourself," Miri purrs back nipping his chest. "Very selfish."

Gale watches her with half lidded eyes, his mind swimming in sensation, his thoughts filled with nothing but her, her body above his, the feeling of her tongue, her hands.

Miri’s words make his imagination start to run wild(er). He can’t help but picture the many ways she might 'punish' him for being so... selfish. He shifts slightly, his hands moving from her hips to the outsides of her thighs, his fingers playing with the edges of her underwear.

"You want me to make it up to you?" he whispers, his voice low and eager.

Miri looks up at him from where she's licking a path down his sternum with a quizzical expression.

"Make it up to me?" She repeats.

"You said I was being selfish-" he responds, breathing in deeply as she continues her path down his chest, his stomach, the muscles of his abdomen tensing under her lips.

"I should make it up to you-" he repeats, his hands tracing up her legs, his fingers reaching the edges of her underwear.

Miri huffs a soft laugh. "I'm joking, Gale."

Her fingers tug softly at the waistband of his shorts. Gale groans, his hips shifting instinctively underneath her, the feeling of her hands there making him shiver.

He gazes at her, ochre eyes dark and fixed on her face, not even trying to hide how much he wants her right now, not even trying to hide how badly he wants her. Miri can’t suppress the growl that rumbles through her at the sight of him - wanton and flushed beneath her.

"You might be joking-" he says, his voice ragged. "but I'm not-"

"No?" Miri gives him a cheeky, lopsided smile in response, some confusion evident in her tone.

She slides his shorts down and off when he lifts his hips slightly. She takes a moment to admire him - marveling at his tanned skin, his strong physique. He clearly takes care of himself...

And he clearly wants her. Gods, that much is very clear through the thin fabric of his boxer briefs. She almost startles herself at the feel of her hungry growl vibrating in her chest.

Gale watches, his breaths quick and heavy, as she looks over his body, admiring him, taking him in. He groans as those bright green eyes rove over him, that familiar flush of embarrassment returning, even as his desire for her just continues to soar higher and higher.

He can feel her eyes on him, there, as he strains against the fabric of his underwear, positively aching in his need for her.

"No," he breathes. "I'm entirely serious-"

That's...oh, that's a lot. Miri can feel her core throbbing at the very idea of it. But she's not even sure the last time she... Gods that's big. How...?

Miri's startled out of her thoughts at his words and looks up. Fuck that expression. Lips a little kiss swollen, cheeks flushed, eyes dark. Absolutely debauched before they’ve even really started.

He groans again at the way she bites her lip as she look at him. He wants to know what those lupine teeth feel like on his lips.

He can practically see the heat building inside her, the way her breath starts to hitch, how her face flushes, the way those sharp pupils round and grow. It only serves to make him want her more.

Months of dreaming and aching for her.

There's a hint of nervousness in his voice when he speaks this time, his words a low, ragged murmur.

"You okay up there, Mir...?"

"Ah- yeah!" She flushes a bit more, embarrassed by her reaction. "Yes, I'm good."

Her fingers trace idle patterns against his hips where she holds him. He laughs softly, the sound breathless.

"You sure...?" Gale asks, watching her, the nervousness still present in his voice. "I didn't break you, did I?"

It's a very real concern, a very real fear. As much as his body aches for her, as much as he wants her, he doesn't want to push her too far, to push her to do something she isn’t comfortable with.

Miri shakes her head with a soft grin. "Not yet, no."

A shudder runs down his spine. Yet. His mind swims once more with the possibilities, the way he wants her and the things he wants to do to her. The thought of how desperately he wants to make her come undone-

His fingers squeeze and flex against her thighs. Gale's not sure how much longer he's going to be able to hold back, how much longer he'll be able to control himself-

Miri leans forward, running her hands up his sides, and presses a few kisses to his chest. She needs to feel him. All of him. More than she can manage.

He shudders at the feeling of her hands on his skin, the kisses sending sparks down his spine that only increase his already unbearable arousal. Gale feels nearly breathless from the desperate need for her to be bare, the need to feel her skin against his everywhere-

"Can I-" he manages to gasp out, one hand moving to the edge of her underwear.

Miri shivers slightly, the request making her stomach clench with a coiling heat.

"O-okay," she breathes.

He almost stops in surprise as she agrees, her tone shaky and breathless. It’s almost too good to be true. He's careful, almost unsure he heard her correctly, his fingers tracing lightly over the edge of her underwear, hesitating.

"You- are you sure...?" Gale’s voice leaves him in a near reverent whisper. He needs to make sure he's not pushing her too far. Wants to be absolutely certain that she really want this. He couldn’t live with himself otherwise.

"Yes," Miri nods, more vehemently when she notices his hesitation. She’s not uncertain about him. Not even a little bit. Only of herself. So, softly, she adds, "I want you."

It's a simple three words. A simple admission of want.

And yet they affect him like nothing else.

With that simple phrase, the damn of his restraint breaks.

All of Gale’s need comes rushing free. His arms come around her, pulling her against him and rolling them back over so she’s once more beneath him, his body pressing against hers.

"Gods, I want you too," he breathes, his voice shaking with pure, unbridled need.

The heat in her stomach flares hotter with him above her. Looking at her with those dark, needful eyes. When he steals a heady kiss she moans. But he’s gone all too soon, sitting up and straddling her thighs.

He looks down at her beneath him, his eyes tracing over her body, taking in the sight of her, his body pressed up against hers. He's nearly trembling with his need for her. As if by finally letting it free Gale’s months long need for Miri is consuming him. And he feels ready to drown beneath it.

‘I want you’ echoes on repeat. He’s never felt so insatiable before.

His hands move to her hips, his fingers playing again with the edge of her underwear, wanting to pull them off, wanting to feel her against him bare-

Miri watches him with a dark, heated gaze. Equal parts curious and hungry. Her heart is hammering against her chest with anticipation.

Gale’s hands are trembling as they move to the sides of her underwear, slowly, carefully pulling them down over her hips, down her legs. He groans softly at the sight of her obvious desire.

His eyes are dark as he looks down at her, his eyes following his hands as they continue pulling the fabric away, his breaths coming in quick, shuddering rasps.

"Gods, you're beautiful," he whispers, as he pulls the garment completely off, tossing it to the floor. Heated gaze takes her in before looking up to lock on hers.

Miri’s breath catches at his reaction. His gaze is so intense it feels almost like a touch, leaving her skin feeling warm and tingling. And when it meets her gaze she feels frozen to the spot. She’s never felt more wanted more seen than under his unbelievably dark and hungry gaze.

He can't look away from her, can't tear his eyes away from the sight of her bare body beneath him, the sensation of her skin against his palms, the feel of her so close. He runs a hand down her side, the touch of his fingers soft and gentle. Reverent.

Miri sighs softly under his touch, her eyelids fluttering softly.

"Can I-" he breathes a ragged whisper, his eyes tracing over her, wanting more, desperate for more, "Can I taste you?"

Her eyes snap back open with surprise at his request. Pupils snapping tight before blowing wide once more. It feels like her whole body throbs with the very idea of it. Picturing it...

"You...want to?" Miri whispers back.

"Oh, gods yes," he replies, his voice shaking. His breath comes in quick puffs, his body practically aching to taste her. He leans in, pressing a trail of kisses down her neck, and shoulders.

She gasps at his answer - that husky, rough tone of his need, how fervently he wants it. Her head tilts back to give him better access and she's squirming slightly beneath him, her hands clutching at his waist.

"I want to taste all of you-" he whispers, his teeth nipping at her skin.

When he bites - oh, she growls.

The sound of her growl, the feeling of her hands on him, the sight of her beneath him, wanting, has his heart racing. He runs his hands over her hips, over her stomach, his fingers tracing over her skin, finding every spot that makes her gasp and shiver, every spot that makes her moan. And all the while, he kisses and nips at her skin, moving down, down, down-

Miri's a chorus of sounds under his attention. Panting with need, gasping and moaning at touch, growling at bites. Her eyes want to close with pleasure, but she can't tear her gaze away from the sight of him practically worshipping her body.

And Gale is. He is worshiping her, with every bite, every kiss, his very goal the sounds she makes as he moves his way down her body, loving the feel of her body shuddering beneath him, the way she gasps and moan.

And as he moves lower, Gale groans at the sight of her, his heart rate thundering as his mouth finally reaches her core, and he gently runs his tongue across it-

Miri jolts at the feeling - a sudden punched-out moan leaving her lips.

The sound of her moan filling his ears as her taste coats his tongue sends a wave of heat through him.

He takes his time, starting slow, his tongue gently exploring her sensitive flesh, savoring her taste, listening to the sounds she’s making, his hands moving over her hips, pulling her closer to him.

"Ohhh fuck-"

His eyes look up to watch her face as she curses, feeling the word like a bolt of heat straight to his own core. He continues his ministrations, his tongue running over her wet heat again and again.

Gale works slowly, wanting to thoroughly savor her, wanting to keep going until she can't even form words-

Miri whines - her back arching and her body writhing with the pleasure of it. One hand fists in the sheets, the other moves to his hair, pushing it back out of his face.

When their eyes meet she shivers. He's not just doing it performatively - gods the look in his eyes - he's enjoying it. Wants it. Fucking hells.

The feeling of her hand in his hair and the blissful look in her eyes is driving him insane, his own body aching with need as he continues his attention on her core. Gale loves the way she looks, the sounds she makes, the way she whines, how her body is twitching and writhing beneath his touch.

He responds to her look, his eyes darkened, dilated, practically devouring the way she looks right now. He hums a deep moan against her.

"Ahn gods Gale-"

She can't look away, completely captivated by him. By the raw, unfettered need in his eyes. Gale buries his face a little deeper, grasping her by the hips to hold her against his mouth. He grinds his own neglected, aching need into the bed absently as he savors her.

He flicks his tongue against her swollen bud and she bucks with a sharp gasp.

He shivers at the sound of her gasping his name, the feel of her bucking beneath him, every response from her driving him even more wild.

He loves this. Has maybe never loved anything mor than this. Seeing her like this - his strong, ferocious love completely at his mercy, practically writhing with pleasure.

And the taste of her, gods-

He focuses his attention on that sensitive spot, his tongue moving over it again and again in quick little laps.

Miri makes a stuttering series of high moans, each one spurred by the movement of his tongue. Her back bows and her hips jolt.

Gods how loves these sounds. Her every arch and gasp and twitch. He continues without pause, without slowing, savoring every second of driving her wild with his mouth. His tongue continues its relentless rhythm, his arms moving under her thighs to wrap around and grasp her hips, holding her open and in place against him even as she bucks and writhes beneath him-

Miri's legs start to tremble, toes curling. She's nearly dizzy with the effect of his mouth on her.

"Ah- ah! Gale!" She moans again, her hand in his hair tightening. "That's-! I'm-"

The sound of her practically whining his name, the way her legs are shaking, how she arches and gasps, it's all almost overwhelming, how she sounds, the way she looks right now, the way she’s shivering-

He keeps going, his tongue unrelenting, and one hand moves from her hip, sliding down to gently tease at her entrance.

Miri cries out, high and loud - she's so close.

The sound has his heart stuttering, the knowledge that she’s right on the edge-

He keeps his focus on her delicious little clit, his tongue continuing its relentless attention as he slides one finger into her, gods-

The tension in her core snaps. Her back bows up off the bed, every muscle tremoring and bunching. Miri can hardly catch her breath as she sees stars.

Gale moans a ragged sound in the back of his throat. It's everything he could have ever hoped for, the way she thrashes beneath him, the way she clenches around his finger and he can feel the wave of her climax as it overcomes her. Tasting her ecstasy on his tongue.

He continues his attention for a few more seconds, watching her expression as he works her through it, loving the way she looks as she rides out the wave, his heart hammering in his chest as he does.

Miri feels like boneless liquid as she comes back down. Soft shivers of aftershocks roll through her. One lick too many and she has to tug at Gale's hair to make him stop.

It's a struggle for him to tear himself away, the taste and sounds of her almost too enticing to resist.

But he does, reluctantly. Gale watches her with a satisfied grin as he slowly withdraws his finger, watching her as she shudders with aftershocks. Miri practically glows with pleasure. From him.

Miri lets out a soft groan that devolves into a low growl. She's not sure she's ever climaxed so hard. And he looks so pleased with himself. (And he should. Fuck.)

"Hells," she breathes, throwing one arm over her eyes as her chest heaves, "Where did you learn how to do that?"

He lets out a breathless laugh, his own heart still hammering in his chest. Gale can’t help but preen a bit at her praise. He savors licking his lips, almost mourns wiping her from his beard. His body aches for her.

"Lots of practice," he replies, the tone of his voice still ragged, still needy, "Paying attention to the responses you get from a person..."

He pulls himself up, crawling up her body and leaning over her to nuzzle at her hair. Miri huffs a soft laugh, a witty reply ready, but it dries up on her tongue when he whispers in her ear like sultry silk as he breathes her in, “And a lot of imagination involving a certain someone."

"What...?"

She turns to look at him with surprise. Her hands automatically find their way to his skin, holding him close to her. His breath catches as she touches him, his heart skipping a beat at the feel of her hands, how she holds onto him like she don't want to let go.

His own hands move to her waist, his thumbs tracing gentle little circles on her skin as he resumes nuzzling her hair, his lips at her ear.

"You wouldn't believe the things I've imagined doing to you..." he whispers, his voice low and rough.

Miri groans, feeling the embers of her arousal quickly sparking back to a roaring blaze.

"I had no idea," Miri murmurs back.

The sound of her voice, gods, the way she groans. Miri’s responses make his heart pound a fury against his ribs. He needs to hear more, needs to continue.

Gale hums a low sound, moving in closer still, his voice a low whisper, "How about I tell you some of the things I've thought of...?"

"Are you trying to drive me mad?" Miri returns.

"Oh, absolutely." There's a wicked grin on his face as he replies, his hands moving over her again. Over her breasts, her stomach, her hips. "Imagining all the ways I want to make you scream-"

Miri growls softly. Her own hands roam, exploring chest and stomach, the arches of his hips...

"I wish I'd known sooner," Miri returns with a breathless playfulness, "Could've saved me a few online purchases..."

He shivers at the feel of her hands, groans at her words. The very hint of what she might mean having his heart and mind racing, his tongue licking at his lips as he looks down at her-

"A few?" Gale asks, arching a brow at her. "How many online purchases are we talking, here?"

"Uh-" Miri bites her lip for a moment, "Just a few."

The sight of has his thoughts running away from him. He leans in, nuzzling her neck, letting his voice drop back to a murmur against her skin.

"A few purchases?" Gale repeats, needing to know. "Or a few boxes?"

"I mean, no one delivers things efficiently any more," Miri counters, "I don't think number of boxes is a fair question -"

His breath catches at her reply, his heart drumming in his chest as his imagination goes wild with the possibilities. The things she might have bought to satisfy those thoughts she was having...

His mind is filled with images, imagining her lying in bed, trying out each new acquisition on herself - the sounds she would make, how she would look.

Gale groans softly. He presses a few kisses to her neck, nuzzling her skin while he continues to speak, his voice still low, "And you're telling me you've used and enjoyed every single one of these purchases...?"

"It's silly to buy something and not try it. Not everything-" Miri pauses for a moment. Her cheeks flush a bit more, realizing she's probably said too much. "How did we even get here? I was trying to make a different point-"

Gale can't help the deep chuckle that escapes his lips at how flushed she is.

"And what was this ‘different point’, Miri?" He huffs a soft breath out of his nose with amusement as he presses more kisses to her neck, "Because I think this new topic of discussion is much more interesting."

"That I wouldn't've needed those things if I'd known you were not only willing," Miri breathes, "But quite skilled."

He lifts his head to look down at her, a slightly cheeky smile on his face, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "Did you just imply that I'm better than your online purchases?"

"Maybe-"

"Careful, Mir," he says, his voice low and rough as he barely suppresses a shiver of excitement and a smug grin, "Or I might get a bit full of myself and start demanding we demonstrate just how much better I am than all your toys."

Miri groans. "You don't need the ego boost."

He grins down at her, unable to stop himself as his pride swells and smugness practically bubbling out of him.

"Perhaps not," he agrees, still in that low, rough voice, "But I do need something right now-"

"Yeah?" Miri smiles sultrily up at him, one hand finding its way into his hair again. The other slides down to his hip and tugs him forward to press against her.

A soft gasp escapes his lips when their hips press together and he can feel the heat of her against him. Gale leans in closer, covering her body with his and nuzzling against her neck. His hands continue to roam, one grasping at her thigh, the other cupping a breast, his thumb rubbing the tight peak of her nipple.

"There are two very specific things I need right now..." he murmurs between kisses.

"Two?" Miri returns, puzzled. It’s hard to think with the way he explores her - touches so warm and inviting, soft and hard, sweet and amorous. Gods those kisses are like the lines of a litany. She always knew Gale was thorough - in just about everything he does- but this is a whole other level.

"The first," he murmurs, moving his lips to her ear, "Is that I need you. Right here, right now-"

He presses her down against the bed, wanting her to feel his need, the ache of his body drawn out inexorably by her every breath, her every movement.

Miri moans softly and parts her legs further to feel him pressing directly against her core. The room fills with the soft sound of their ragged breaths as they cling to one another.

Gale is positively aching at the feeling. He can’t decide whether he is grateful or vexed by the briefs that still cling to him. Entirely too small, but keeping him from rushing too quickly.

"The second...?"

"The second," he whispers at her ear when he manages to catch his breath, "Is that I need to hear you screaming my name."

Miri moans softly at the feel of him - hot and hard- sliding against her still sensitive flesh. Her breath catches at his whisper. The fabric of his briefs does little to dull the feeling - only adding friction despite the growing wetness of the fabric.

"I'm sure you can earn it," Miri purrs back, tugging softly at his hair.

Miri is trying to drive him insane with raw need, she must be. He aches and throbs for her. All he can do to respond is a low groan, heat rushing through his body at the mere suggestion.

"Challenge accepted," Gale breathes with a cheeky grin.

Miri grins back wolfishly. "Good."

She tugs him in for a kiss, moaning softly at the taste of herself on his lips. He returns the kiss with an fervor to match, the feel of her pressed against him, her hands in his hair, the taste of her... all of it makes his head spin with need and desperation.

Gale presses forward, leaning his weight against her. His hips grind against hers more purposefully, the ache in his body almost overwhelming him.

"Need you, Miri-" he whispers hoarsely between kisses, "Need you so badly-"

"I'm ready for you, Gale," Miri answers softly between kisses. Her fingers trail down to tug at the fabric of his briefs and his breath stutters.

The sound her voice, breathless and panting wrapped around his name fuels the fire burning in him. He needs to hear her scream it - but he doesn't want to rush, he wants to savor this moment. Savor every touch and taste of Miri he can have.

"Are you sure?" Gale’s voice is equal parts concern and barely constrained desire as he asks. "I don't want to rush-"

Miri huffs a soft laugh.

"Yes, I'm sure," she answers earnestly. She hooks one leg over his hips and tugs gently. His hips automatically move forward in response, and he moans at the friction. Then teasingly, she adds, "At this point you're being a tease."

"I'm just trying to be patient-" he gasps.

"And you're very good," Miri murmurs, pressing kisses to his jawline. Every tender kiss makes his heart pound. "But I'm not stopping you."

"I-I just don't want to-" his voice is laced with a soft whine as he responds. It breaks with another soft moan as his hips move against her again. His voice grows more pleading "-don’t want to hurt you."

Miri cups his jaw in one hand, tilting his face to hold her gaze. "You won't."

Her confidence sends a shiver down his spine and his heart aching in his chest. He swallows, his voice still pleading.

"But- but you just came-"

"And I would very much like to do it again."

Miri’s smirk is almost wicked, flashing a hint of those sharp teeth. His heart skips a beat and he groans, his body aching and his control hanging by a thread.

"Miri..." His voice is thick with desire. The sound of her name on his lips is almost a plea, "Miri- if you keep saying things like that-"

"What?" Miri murmurs with a grin, "Will you fuck me?"

Her leg tugs at his hip again, her fingers trailing sharp nails gently down his back. It draws another deep, low groan from him, his hips moving forward against her instinctively, needy and seeking friction. Miri groans appreciatively at the friction as he grinds against her again. Gale buries his face against her neck, his breath ragged.

The sound of her pleading for him, the friction as he grinds against her, the aching need to feel her, for her to feel pleasure-

"M-Miri, I swear to the gods-" his voice is low and shaky.

"Come on, Gale," she whispers, a gentle plea in his ear, "I need you. Please."

Gale’s pushed to the edge, teetering at the point of no control, and he lets out another groan, his voice almost shaking as he speaks. "Miri, I'm trying to hold back-"

"Why?" Miri cups his face between both hands now, forcing him to hold her gaze. "I’ve wanted you for months, Gale. Don’t make us wait a moment more when we both want this. Don't make me beg."

Miri tilts back to kiss him gently on the forehead before pressing hers to his. This tender affection has his heart in his throat. Gale wants nothing more than to give her everything. To please her.

And his body sings a near painful accord as he tries futilely to hold onto the last bit of his self-control. He swallows, and answers in a hoarse murmur, "Because I don't want to hurt you-"

"Gale, please," she returns, stroking his cheeks. "If it hurts I'll tell you."

Miri kisses his nose, his cheeks, his chin. He's so unbelievably sweet and good. And she adores that about him - always has. But gods, he's driving her mad.

"I know my body. I couldn't be much more ready. You have absolutely made sure of that."

"Gods-" he moans, "Miri-"

"Mmm," Miri hums low in approval when he moans her name. She can't hold back the passionate growl that rumbles in her chest. "Yes, Gale."

The sound of that growl goes straight through him, stirring up the fire raging inside him, adding to the maelstrom of need that consumes him. He has to give her what she wants, what she needs-

His hips move forward again, rubbing against her, teasing, his voice rough and strained, "You sure? You promise you'll tell me if it hurts?"

"Yes, gods, Gale, please-"

The way she’s pleading finally breaks his resolve, leaving only the raw need, the desperate ache to have her. Gale frees himself of his briefs in a quick movement, settling over her once more.

His knees shift her legs apart, his body thrumming with need as one hand moving to guide himself to her entrance. Miri moves eagerly at his touch, she threads her fingers into his hair, letting her gaze roam his face. Beauty and devotion both.

He lets out a low, shaky gasp, his head tilting back involuntarily as her fingers weave into his hair. The feeling of her hands against his scalp is sending shudders through him, his eyes searching hers with a mixture of desire and awe.

"A-anything-" he hesitates, his voice barely more than a husky whisper. Their gazes lock.

"I promise, Gale," Miri breathes, her hands clutching tightly to him.

He can't help but shiver at the sound of his name, his body thrumming with anticipation and need. Feeling her breath against his lips, her body pressed against his, her words making his heart skip a beat...

He begins to push into her, slowly, gently, his breath catching in his throat at the feel of her. It’s excruciating and euphoric all at once - hot, slick, tight, perfect.

"You... you feel so... so good," he manages to get out between quickened breaths, his voice tight and rough with the effort of holding himself back.

Miri moans a ragged reply, her head falling back onto the bed. The feel of it is overwhelming - a dull ache that quickly ebbs to pleasure. Fullness well before he's made any progress. The stretch is enough to drive the wind from her.

"Ahn fuck, Gale," Miri moans again.

He moans in response, gripping at the sheets beneath them as he continues. Gale moves slowly, gently, inching deeper and trying to give her time to adjust even as his need burning inside him like a wildfire.

Seeing her like this, the sight of her arching her back and tipping her head back, makes his grip on her hips tighten, his fingers digging into her skin.

Gale tries to hold himself back, to keep from drowning in her completely. He presses a messy kiss to her neck, his teeth nipping at the skin as he sucks and bites at it, wanting to leave his mark on her, wanting to claim her as his own. She growls and sighs with ecstasy. And when her hips finally meet his she moans again.

"Oh gods, Miri, oh gods-"

Miri lets out a breathy whine, her fingers flexing against him. He burns hotter, brighter as he pushes deeper. The pressure and the pleasure build in her like a tidal wave. He buries his face against her neck, breathing ragged, low hoarse moans escaping his lips in ragged gasps.

"Oh gods, Miri, you're so tight-"

"Ah- gods-" Miri's panting as she adjusts. "You're - ahn- fuck- so big-"

The sound of her struggling for breath, speaking in between gasps - the feeling of her so tight and warm around him - Gale feels unmoored at sea, lost in sensation and pleasure. The heat and pressure building in his stomach like a raging inferno as he continues to push deeper. Miri’s eyes roll with a cry and his heart stutters.

"Oh gods, I'm not- I'm not hurting you, am I? You feel so perfect-"

"N-nnnnnghh ah no-"Gods she can barely form words. That gasp and moan is like music to his ears, better than anything he’s ever heard. His heart thunders in his chest, every delicious squeeze like lightning up his spine.

"Are you sure-?”

"Ohhhh ffffuck. Yes, I'm sure-"

His hips move against her again, deeper, just a little bit deeper, a low moan coming up from his throat. His voice is little more than a low, ragged growl as he finally pushes all the way in.

Miri gasps at the stretch - so good but so much. It quickly dissolves into a satisfied moan. The sound breaks into a heated growl. Gale can't help the guttural moan that he lets out as she growls, the sound making his blood run hot.

The feel of her hips against his sends sparks through his body, the pleasure and sensation almost overwhelming. His hands let go of her hips, one of them moving up to grip the back of her neck as he pulls her in for a messy, hungry kiss, desperate to taste every moan and growl and gasp she makes.

"Oh dear gods, Mir-" he gasps out, his voice shaking, "You feel so- good-"

He tightens his grip on her hips, trembling as he holds back, desperate to move, but holding himself back to let her adjust.

Miri can barely think from the sensation - sharp pressure ebbing to delightful fullness. She gasps and whines while for a moment they simply cling to one another and all she can feel is him - Gale surrounding her, filling her. His warmth as he presses tender kisses to her crown as he holds her.The intimacy of this moment is like nothing he's ever felt before. He’s had partners sure. But he’s never wanted anyone quite the way he wants Miri. Never wanted to be with someone so wholly. And when he presses their foreheads together and their eyes meet - he can see it reflected in her gaze.

"Can I- move-?" he gasps out desperately.

She moans again at the way he shifts and presses against her so deep.

"Ah-" Miri gasps again, head tilting back, "Please."

He barely manages to hold back a whine as she gasps out that please. Gale lets out another groan, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips a bit harder, holding her tight against him.

He lets out a soft hiss of breath before he speaks. "Gods, you feel...perfect, love. You take me so... so well."

"Ah- please-" Miri pants, "Gale-"

"Yes, love?" he gasps out shakily, his fingers digging into her waist. "Is this alright? Does this feel good-"

"Yes! Gale-" Miri moans, "Move please, move," she practically whines. Her hips shift against him desperately.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath before he slowly, carefully, withdraws, shifting his grip to keep her still. Gale groans low in his throat, before he slowly pushes back in, taking every ounce of effort to keep control. Miri whimpers and whines at the torturously slow pace. Her fingers clutch at the sheets. His head dips, nuzzling his face against her neck. Gale starts to move, slowly at first, still trying to be gentle, still trying to hold back, all the while whispering hoarse, ragged moans against her neck.

He surges in to capture her lips as he rocks slowly against her. His pace increases slightly as her hands tug against his hips. When Miri growls impatiently against his mouth and nips his bottom lip he finally relents. With a whine of his own he picks up his pace.

"Gods, love...," he gasps out, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. "You just... Mir, you feel so... so good."

"Hells Gale," she breathes, burning at the thrill that races down her spine and coils in her stomach with every thrust. "You’re incredible-"

Gale’s so vocal, so torturously attentive - and when he makes eye contact, all flushed, dark need, Miri feels like she might melt entirely. She can feel the smoldering embers of her desire roaring like a furnace now.

His hands tighten, as if trying to press her impossibly closer and his lips leaving small, sucking kisses at every bit of skin he can reach. His motions pick up speed, his breaths and moans coming in short gasps and pants. Miri mewls, every time their hips connect sending a bolt of white hot pleasure up her spine.

Miri's legs tremble softly as she rocks her hips against his. Every few strokes they surge together to kiss again. All teeth and desire and sound. Full of their shared delight and hunger. Wet and needy.

His hands move over her body, caressing and touching her, his touches desperate and hungry, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of her skin. Gale traces the curves and lines of her figure, feeling her muscles, desperate and eager to touch her.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers between harsh breaths. “I want you to be mine, Miri...”

Miri's head tips back with a long, reedy moan. Her hands clutch at his arms as she trembles. He watches in fascination, his eyes tracing over the line of her throat, desperate to kiss and taste and bite the skin exposed to him.

“Gods, Miri, the way you sound-” he pants, "You're so responsive," he whispers, his voice low and thick with need, "I can't get enough of you."

She cries out softly, losing herself in his need, his touch, his heat. Miri moans at the snaps of his hips against hers, breathless bolts of lightning arcing up her spine. His touch is hot fire on her skin, his voice like honey in her ears.

"Gale...!"

The sound of his name on her lips makes something shiver and shiver within him. His touch traces paths of fire on her skin, mapping every curves and slopes wanting to know her body as well as his own.

"Say my name again," he whispers against her neck, his voice gruff and raw, "say it again."

"Gale!"

He lets out a low hiss, burying his face into the curve of her neck. Every movement of their hips adds fuel to the fire, every touch and caress and kiss sending sparks and shivers through his body.

"I love how you respond to me," he moans against her skin, "the sounds that you make when I touch you... I need more. I need to hear you moan my name like that again."

Miri hardly feels able to breathe - she can feel the hot tension spooling in her stomach, closer to bursting with every delicious snap of his hips, hitting that perfect spot.

"Ahhhn- Gale please- ah-" The sound of her speech breaking into moans, her voice becoming shaky and fragmented, sends a thrill through him that he can't even put into words. He lets out a low, almost animalistic noise from low in his throat, desperate and pleading.

"Gods, yes, just like that," he whispers, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps, "Keep making those sounds for me, Miri. Let me hear how good I make you feel."

Gale loses himself in the feel of her - perfect in every way, soft and pliant and hot beneath him. He can’t hold back anymore, and the sounds she’s making only make it clear she feels good.

She's almost dizzy with the frantic pace he sets - and gods it feels so good. Her back arches up into him and she whines before gasping his name again.

He can feel the pleasure building deep within, the need coiling low and tight and hot within his gut. He runs his hands down her body, his touch growing more and more frantic, desperate to bring her to the edge with him, to make her say his name like a prayer, a plea.

She gasps a high cry when he adds that sharp, bright pleasure, fingers playing her like a virtuoso. Her claws dig at his back with only half a mind to be gentle against his skin. Green eyes roll with sensation and she trembles beneath him.

"Gale!"

The feel of her nails against his skin grounds him, the sharp and stinging pain adding to the pleasure, keeping him at that almost delirious edge, riding on the pleasure. He bites at her neck, his teeth pressing hard enough to leave a mark, desperate and rough and hungry, desperate to make her feel everything, all the pleasure and need and heat thrumming inside him.

"Again, Miri, please! I want to hear you say my name again, I want to hear you say it until your voice is hoarse," he gasps against her skin, his voice thick with need.

"Ahn! Gale!" This time it's a sharp cry, a shout. Plea and prayer both. She feels full of molten heat - a bowstring overdrawn and ready to snap. His bite rips a growl from her - one of untempered pleasure. "Gale!"

His breath hitches at the sound of his name, at the feel of her voice saying his name, the way the words fall from her lips in gasps and moans and pleas. He feels like he's drowning in her, in the heat and in the pleasure, barely holding on to his control.

"Like that, gods, just like that," he growls, his voice thick with heat, raw with the need to make her feel good, to give her more, more and more and more.

Miri's voice is ragged with harsh breaths as she pleads with him. She's unbearably close. So near to that precipice, feeling almost all liquid in his arms as his touch renders her to pure sensation.

His mind is a haze of sensations, of the feel of her, of the sound of her voice and the way she calls out his name, how she makes him feel wanted and needed and like the most important person in the world. His own control is almost slipping, almost reaching his own edge, and he can only hold on tighter, pull her closer, his touch becoming almost frantic as he tries to bring her as much pleasure as he can.

"Say my name, love, gods- say my name again," he begs, his voice strained and tight with the effort to hold himself back.

That touch - delicious and demanding - wrings pleasure from her very bones. Miri gasps out a moan like a howl, her spine arching. As her body starts to tremble and writhe she cries out his name.

There's a feeling like sparks blazing over his skin at the sound of her cry, the raw pleasure in her voice, her body arching and writhing beneath him, and then, before he can think, before he can even catch his breath, he lets himself slip over the edge, riding the wave of pleasure that washes over him in overwhelming spikes. He buries his face into the curve of her neck, his name on her lips the sweetest sound he's ever heard.

She clutches him to her as they float in that nebulous space between dream and reality together. Her head tips back with heaving breaths and soft shivers. She mumbles out soft phrases, praise and adoration, bleary and love drunk.

Gale clings to her, his head buried in the crook of her shoulder, breathing in deep as he tries to come down from that overwhelming wave. Her words, spoken in that soft, dreamy, and love-drunk tone, wash over him like a soothing balm.

He presses a soft, almost lazy kiss to the skin of her neck, too sated and relaxed to do anything else. Her hair is tousled and messy where he ran his hands through it, her neck and shoulders bearing the red marks and indents of his mouth and teeth, and her eyes are still hazy and almost delirious with pleasure. He runs a hand over her jaw, tracing it with his thumb.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, his voice low and soft.

Miri grins back at him, blinking slowly. His own hair is disheveled, down from it’s usual half bun and sticking to him with the sweat of his efforts. But he’s never looked more beautiful.

“Takes one to know one,” she murmurs back with a smirk. Gale snorts and shoves lightly at her.

They laugh together, still a tangled heap of limbs. When they settle, their gazes meet again. Soft, soothing touches exchanged slowly. Uncaring for the time or the mess or the world outside.

“We should’ve done this sooner,” Miri muses softly. Her smile is nothing short of radiant, full of a soft affection Gale’s only ever dreamed of until now. And he matches it with one of his own.

“We should have yes,” he returns, “But I am more than happy to make up for lost time.”

Gale pulls her closer, rolling onto his back and pulling her on top of him to a chorus of giggles.

“So am I,” Miri agrees softly, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. “And then some.”

[tieronecrush]

꒰ა ONLY ANGEL ໒꒱

javier peña x f!reader

chapter one: sweet temptations

series masterlist

rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

summary: After his return to the US, Javier is trying to settle back into a normal life without the pressures of Colombia and the DEA, but he finds himself feeling isolated with no one to spend his nights with. Now a newly appointed criminology professor at Texas A&M, he is drawn to you, a post-grad student in one of his classes. You’re intelligent and witty, sweet and kind, and he can’t get you out of his mind. To cope with his growing loneliness and to rid himself of thoughts of you, he signs up for an “arrangement service” to connect him with somebody—a sugar baby—he can care for. After he is matched up with Angel, he finds himself developing feelings quicker than he ever expected, but what happens when he finds out Angel is really you?

series warnings: power imbalance (prof and student), sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, discussion of money, criminal activity, judicial systems, graduate school, smut, daddy/papí kink, praise kink, degradation, self deprecation, discussion of self worth, multiple sexual or romantic partners, sex work, cursing, use of spanish, likely more warning so read at your own risk!

word count: 3.8k

a/n: first chapter AHHHH!!! hope you all love, i am not sure if i am doing a taglist yet cause it’s a lot of work tbh so will keep y’all posted <3 and a special thanks to bestie @northernbluess for helping me with this brainchild and always screaming about javi with me. love ya sister wife <3

“Professor Peña! Welcome back, sir. So glad we have you on for another year,” the voice of the Dean of Faculty, Jim Banks, booms in the empty hallway of the Sociology department, a cramped space on the top floor of one of the, luckily, newer buildings on campus. With a large donation made to the university last year, specifically directed to the Sociology department for their ‘advancements in the field and hiring top talent’, the department was moved out of the basement and into a space that actually saw the sunlight. And had a decent view of the quad, too.

Javier stops in his tracks in the middle of the hall, turning over his shoulder and giving the man approaching behind him a strained, polite smile. He hikes the strap of his chestnut leather messenger bag further onto his shoulder, the itch of his brand new button-down scratching against his skin.

“Dean Banks, good to see you,” he sounds clipped, but Javier has always had a hard time hiding his impatience and annoyance.

“Please, Peña, like I’ve said, call me Jimmy! No need for formalities, buddy.” The dean slaps Javi’s shoulder when he reaches him, and Javier clenches his fist at his side. The whole buddy-buddy Southern thing never roped him in, and certainly not after he was made privy to what a boys’ club the academic world was.

Javier has been a professor for 6 months at Texas A&M University, based at their San Antonio campus, and has taught primarily undergraduate classes for the first semester and summer session that he was on the faculty roster. Hired into the Sociology Department after job-hunting for something to fill his time after retiring. Well, he technically resigned after the nightmare that was Cali, but he negotiated to keep his extremely cushy government pension. Never needed to work another day in his life, but damn he was getting bored. Even his Pop nearly kicked him out to get him to do something other than roaming the field of the ranch and camping out to watch the boats.

Those damn boats.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Dean Ba—Jimmy?” He takes one step back, out from under the man’s hand on his shoulder, and straightens up, grip tightening on the strap of his bag.

“Well, I do gotta favor to ask you, Peña. See, Professor Harrison has had some…extraneous circumstances that have kept him from coming back to the department this semester, and likely next semester. So, I was coming down here to ask if you would be willing to take on his graduate-level course for the semester, and possibly his next semester too. It’s Sociology of Deviance, and by god, you were the first person I thought of to fill in, ya deviant!” Banks gets a good laugh out of his own joke, the effort falling flat for Javier. He waits out the man’s reaction to his own humor, clearing his throat to attempt to egg him on and end the conversation earlier.

“So, what d’ya say, Peña? Think you can manage instructing that course? Syllabus and everything is already planned, just have to have someone actually teach the material and grade everything.”

“Uh, yeah, that would be fine. I’ll check in with Beth at the department’s front desk to get access to Professor Harrison’s material for the course,” he nods to the dean and starts to turn away, ready to retreat to the peace of his private office when Banks’ voice catches his attention again.

“Can’t thank ya enough, Peña. And, uh, try not to get yourself into any of those extraneous circumstances that will be on the class roster, yeah? Don’t want to have to replace you too. We can’t have A&M losing the Big Man on Campus, hey?”

His brows furrow as nods in response, calling out a ‘yes, sir’ as he finally starts toward his office again, stopping at the front desk of the department and requesting the materials for the graduate course, complimenting Beth’s nails with a playful wink.

At the click of his office door, he sighs and sets his bag down on the desk, turning around to face the large window overlooking the campus quad with his hands on his hips.

What the hell kind of extraneous circumstances was Dean Banks getting at? Javier’s a professional, his days of bending the rules in his career are over.

The morning goes by quickly and suddenly it’s two o’clock, fifteen minutes until the new lecture he’s been assigned to instruct. He gathers the syllabi that Beth had dropped off an hour earlier, taking his bag with him as he weaves through students in the halls and slips into the lecture hall, descending the wide stairs at the side of the rows of seats. At the start of every class, he prefers to spend the minutes before gathering his thoughts and laying out everything he needs to get covered. Today’s an easy day, the only goals are to hand out and review the syllabus, and to have the students introduce themselves.

At the prompt time of 2:15 pm, Javier clears his throat and quiets the chit-chatting down, looking up for the first time and meeting a set of eyes that dry his throat immediately. Soft, supple lips are quirked up into a smile, tendrils of short bangs framing her face. Her skin looks like velvet, with baby pink rouge on her cheeks, and a swipe of gloss across her bottom lip. His eyes combed down to her open chest, the scoop-neck baby tee emblemed with some band’s name that he didn’t know. When you smile at him, he feels his heart pound and his cock jump, suddenly grateful for the pretentious podium that he is standing behind.

So those are the extraneous circumstances Dean Banks was getting at.

It was the second semester of your two-year Master's program, and you were honestly excited for the first day of classes. Over the summer session, you had taken a couple of courses to get ahead and worked as a Teaching Assistant for one of your old undergraduate professors. It was about four years ago that you graduated, working in Corporate America before deciding to go back to school and pursue your found passion in Criminal Psychology. The Teaching Assistant job paid pitifully, as you should have expected, so you had turned to an external opportunity that quickly, and easily, became profitable for you and allowed for you to quit TA-ing and focus on your studies for this semester.

The first class of the first day is Sociology of Deviance, a class that is scheduled for Monday and Wednesday afternoons. When you registered for the course, the instructor was listed as “To Be Determined” but as a required credit for your degree, you signed up for this semester anyway.

And holy shit, you’re glad you did.

A few minutes after two o’clock, the lecture hall door opened and slowly shut, the man in a baby blue button-up and tailored slacks stalks down the stairs to your right, headed for the desk in front of the green chalkboards. Underneath the tiny laminate surface that swings out from your chair, you cross your legs and sit up, eyes trained on your professor. His dark hair is clean cut, but not too cropped, swept to the side and up away from his face. A strong, full mustache adorns his upper lip, perfectly groomed along with his clean-shaven, sharp jaw. Wide, expansive shoulders strain under the material of his shirt, the top button near the collar undone and his tie slightly tugged down. The silver belt buckle sitting at his waist glistens in the fluorescent lights, one glance given down his legs and then to his muscular arms when he turns around to write his name on the board.

Professor Peña.

No fucking way, you think to yourself, immediately more engaged than his looks had you. The Javier Peña was teaching one of your courses, a name buzzing around campus over the summer, one that you had read about over and over for the last few years while focusing on the World News section of the paper. The DEA agent not only had a part in taking down Pablo Escobar, but he was also the agent who found and arrested Gilberto Rodriguez, a godfather of the Cali Cartel, and eventually took down the rest of the whole organized crime family.

Finally, someone who actually had some experience with crime outside of a courtroom. 

Uncapping the ballpoint pen laid in front of you, you tap it against your chin as you listen to Professor Peña recount his philosophies in teaching. According to him, he prioritizes ethical and principled practices in the field, noting personal experiences he had with the opposite. You vaguely remember a story from the Miami Herald about his involvement with Los Pepes during Escobar, and you could never forget reading about the corruption of not only the Colombian government but the US government during the Cali days. That case — that scandal that he exposed was a big reason you dove back into criminology. You wanted to be a person who would better it for the people under the jurisdictions of the judicial system, as naive as it may sound.

A thick, stapled stack of packets gets dropped onto your desk, eyesight zoning back in to look to your side and face your professor standing next to your chair. He gives a tight smile, nodding his head to your left.

“Please pass these down that way after you take one for yourself.”

Even from that simple statement, his deep, raspy voice has you sucking your teeth, shaking your head to yourself as you pass on the stack of syllabi, and turning your attention to the outline of the semester. As you study the required readings, Professor Peña returns to the front. Another clearing of his throat turns your eyes up, sitting up straight again as you watch him lean back against his desk, crossing his arms over his chest.

“At the beginning of each semester, I like to have everyone go around and introduce themselves. Now, I know you’re all adults and probably don’t want to do this, but it helps me to remember you when I’m grading all your shit,” he gives a closed smile to the room as a rumble of gentle laughter erupts and quickly fades.

“Anyone want to volunteer to go first?” Professor Peña scans the room, interrupted by a brunette guy that looks to be around your age, an eager smile on his face.

“I’ll go first, Professor. My name’s Alex, I’m in the first semester of my first year of law school. Planning to focus on Criminal Law. I went to UT Austin for undergrad. Go Longhorns!” The exclamation gets some applause, you note the lack of reaction from Professor Peña and smiling to yourself.

Thank god he isn’t one of those insufferable college sports obsessed men.

A handful more of your classmates take their turns, and you politely pay attention to each of them, but unable to shake the feeling of eyes on you. One glance toward the front and you catch Professor Peña’s eyes, darting away toward the student speaking and his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

If you could read his mind right now, you surely would be dropping the class. Javier can’t seem to keep his eyes off of you, entranced by every angle of your face that he’s given, your head turning to face each of your classmates as they speak. It’s endearing how engaged you seem in learning about your peers, and it snaps him out of the daze for a moment when he realizes that he is really the one that needs to be paying attention to the names being spoken.

The only reprieve he seems to get is when you take your turn to introduce yourself, giving your name to the room and each detail you offer, he automatically categorizes into his brain to remember. In those thirty seconds that you are solely speaking, his gaze is trained on you, watching the pout of your glossy lips as they move together and apart, your tongue hitting behind your teeth and the softly shadowed eyelids that crinkle at the sides when you smile. Something you’ve said makes you laugh a bit, the sound ringing in his ears and pumping his heart faster.

The focus moves from you to the next student to volunteer, but Javier can’t help the lingering of his eyes across your collarbone, sloped shoulder and pen bouncing in between your fingers.

Enamored. Infatuated. Bewitched, even.

God, he shouldn’t be thinking about his student this way. 

But you are so fucking gorgeous. And clearly kind, with the way you focus on everyone speaking, gentle smiles given to everyone. You have to be intelligent, pursuing a Master’s degree. And you seem so delicate, so sweet.

What do you taste like?

Nope, not going there Javier. Sure, he’s lonely, but with a student? After another professor just got caught with one, allegedly?

Before he knows it, every student has given their name and random facts about themselves, and he can finally turn his back to the room to begin writing out the required, upcoming assignments and go over the material that will be covered over the next few months. In the blink of an eye, class is wrapping up and he lets out a long exhale, longing for about two fingers of the whiskey that is sitting in the bottom drawer of his desk.

He leans over the table in front of him, shuffling the extra syllabi together and organizing them into his briefcase while the students funnel out of the lecture hall. Brows furrowed, he sighs when he hears footsteps approaching, glancing up to see that little band t-shirt he noticed before, now the view of a dark evergreen, black, and hints of yellow plaid and pleated skirt with legs extending from the mid-thigh hem, and suddenly he’s standing up a bit too quickly to acknowledge your approach.

“Excuse me, Professor Peña?” you ask, saccharine and well-mannered.

“How can I help you?” he responds, not managing to hold back the grin that ticks up one side of his mouth.

“I wanted to properly introduce myself to you,” you give him your name with your hand stretched out, “I know it sounds kiss-ass, but I am really excited to be able to take a course from you. It’s cool to have a non-lawyer professor in criminology courses.”

“I appreciate that,” he slips his palm against your outstretched hand, shaking it and noting your firm handshake, “Hopefully, I live up to your expectations as a professor. Not sure if I will have as good of a grip on the material as Professor Harrison would’ve, this is my first time teaching this class.”

You drop his hand and wave off his concern, a smile still plastered on your face. It’s not forced, by any means, he can see it’s a genuine expression which has his insides stirring again.

“I’m sure you will exceed expectations, especially if the reviews from my graduate cohort have told me anything.” The statement is punctuated with a faint laugh, echoed by Javi as he tilts his head in questioning.

“Glad to hear that I am… well-liked?”

“You could say that, Professor Peña,” you raise your eyebrows with a curl of your lips, nodding slowly, “Well, I should let you get back to your office. Looking forward to the semester.”

“Nice to meet you,” he repeats your name, “And be sure to read your syllabus.”

You turn around as you climb up the stairs of the lecture hall, wide smile, “Oh, I always do my homework, Professor Peña. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Luckily during syllabus week, Javier’s workload is light enough to stay on top of his emails and be able to plan ahead for the next few weeks when things will start to ramp up and assignments will be due.

In his office the next morning, he’s in the midst of slowly working through his short to-do list before his class at one o’clock. With a familiar chime from the clunky machinery on his desk, he turns to the screen and clicks open the tab with his university email address. A new message is in his inbox, one from a student. He starts to skim the message to look for questions asked, thinking to himself as he shakes his head with a disbelieving scoff.

A student already emailing? It’s the first fucking week, c’mon kid, let up and have a little fun during syllabus w—

Oh, wait, it’s you. From his graduate course yesterday afternoon. The student off to the left, with the sweet smile and doe eyes, tight t-shirt and juicy lips.

What would they look like around him?

Jesus Christ, Javier. Get your shit together. A student. That is what you are, and all that you can be.

At least until you graduate.

Shut up, Peña!

He argues back and forth with himself, the angel and devil on his shoulders both making convincing arguments. Physically shaking himself out of the thoughts, he focuses back on your actual message, fully reading it now and chuckling to himself when it’s simply a message about a mistake in the syllabus.

One of the readings is listed with the wrong author, but of course, with how amiable and courteous you are, it’s phrased as a question rather than flat out telling him it’s wrong. Something along the lines of “Sorry Professor, but did I get this wrong…”

He’s not offended, he didn’t write the syllabus, and even if he did, he still would feel no qualms about being corrected where it was due.

There’s a flash of something in his chest, the smallest bit of anger when he thinks about you drafting this email to him, likely nervous you’d get a shitty response back. He knows the type of shit his colleagues say to their female students, and it grates on him every time. Typing up a reply to you, he answers the question concisely. The cursor blinks for a minute on the screen, deciding whether or not to finish off the message with some words of encouragement or not.

Quickly, he adds ‘And please, feel free to correct me if I’m wrong. Clearly you know your stuff, and I could use some help with navigating this new course.’ Adding his signature, he hits send before he can give it another thought.

Exiting out of the window, an ad pops up onto his desktop. Javier moves his mouse to hover over the ‘X’ button, the baby pink banner catching his attention.

Sweet Temptations.

Curiosity gets the best of him and he clicks through to the website, licking his lips when he’s greeted with a logo design that features the silhouette of a woman as the ‘T’.

Javier is lonely.

He moved away from Laredo, where his father resides on the family ranch, the only familiar piece of the US that he was eager to return to. That excitement for the slow life burned out quickly, angst settling in and keeping him on edge — those damn boats.

Chucho encouraged the move, the job, the lifestyle change. Something busier to keep his mind and body occupied, left active enough to forget about the news from over the border, the runs happening right behind his family’s land.

Sure, Laredo is a short drive away, but the distance from family and the few friends he has at home, plus no informants to spend his evenings with, Javier has become decidedly lonely. And these days, he is open to any means of companionship.

For a few minutes, Javi pokes around the site, reading about the matching process for men “seeking arrangements” that “avoid the complications of traditional dating”.

From what he can gather, it’s a place to find a sugar baby. And as a man who was — honestly is supportive of sex work (if this even counts as sex work?), he isn’t above paying for an arrangement that will work for him. Traditional dating hasn’t given him much luck, too many expectations put on him upfront, and too big of a jump to be made that he isn’t quite adjusted for. 

All of this logic is leading him to the sign up tab, filling out his information. He creates a new email address for this purpose, choosing a simple ‘javip@hotmail.com’. The rest of the form is a simple questionnaire, looking to get the gist of what he’s looking for out of this arrangement and what kind of woman he typically goes for.

He hovers over one question: ‘Are you looking for a relationship that will be sexually active?’. It’s a check of ‘yes’ or ‘no’, and suddenly the back of his neck is burning with a hint of shame as he selects ‘yes’.

After the rest of it is answered, he submits it.

If this goes nowhere, hey, at least he tried.

In the exact same spot a week later, Javier is slumped in his chair at his large desk, the sleeves of his button up rolled up to expose his forearms as he does the reading for his own class, preparation for Sociology of Deviance tomorrow afternoon.

Last week, at the second meeting of the cohort, he was impressed by your analysis of the first reading assignment, joking with you after you hit all the key points that ‘you could come up here and teach and give him a break’. That same jolt of energy from last Monday passed through him when you smiled bashfully at him, actively listening for the rest of the lecture. Before he could pull you to compliment you again, you were up the stairs and out the door, a tiny piece of notebook paper left behind. He stalks up to the desk you were at, picking up the scrap and grinning to himself when he sees a doodle of yours. It’s him, it has to be with the prominent ‘stache and eyebrows, his characteristically accurate head floating on the page. He tucks the drawing into his pocket and leaves for the day, stowing the art piece in the top drawer of his desk.

Today, he flicks the paper around in between his fingers, studying the fluid line work when his computer sings again with an incoming email. With nothing in his work inbox, he checks his new personal one, greeted with an excitable subject line:

YOU’VE GOT A MATCH!

JaviP & TheOnlyAngel

tagging some peeps that requested it but not sure if i will have a taglist for this series lol: @northernbluess @swiftispunk @joelsversion @mrsquill @yazsos @cartoon-garbage04 @sugadolly @ilovepedro @lovers-liability @deathwife @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @undrthelights @atticrissfinch @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

[addictwoapen]

concerts

there’s a type of experience that occurs at a concert, and it doesn’t effect everyone the same. Everyone has the song that they know they’ll sob to, the one they’ll scream to, the one they experience standing with hands over hearts and eyes closed-taking it all in. 

I never thought past college. I never really held the idea that I would make it past 22. But there I was, 23, a grad student, working full time, and more at peace with my mind than I had been in the last 10 years.

Looking up at the masterpiece of Hayley Williams and her band, I had memories of sitting on my bedroom floor in 2013, widely regarded in my mind as the worst summer of my life, listening to songs off of Brand New Eyes for the first time and feeling a lot of emotions on top of the Big Ones I was already dealing with. That’s where the obsession began, and it ebbed and flowed for years like my mental health. 

In 2023, as an adult with an apartment and a full time job it was surreal to think to myself: “remember all of those big scary sad feelings you sat with for so long? they’re better now, we’re better now, and we’re (for the most part) okay”.  

“Last Hope” hit a lot harder than it has in a long time, and preaches a motto I’ve been trying to work through for the last month or so:

“Gotta let it happen...and when it’s dark out, no one’s around, it keeps glowing.”

Hands over hearts for this one. Ears and hearts open. Tears and runny mascara and cracked voices for this one. Funny how the Big Feelings sneak up on you when you least expect it.

I’ve often considered concerts a cathartic release that I’m fortunate to experience a handful of times per year. I cry at just about every single one. And when I worry that I’m heartless or that I don’t experience emotion in the right way, I look at my concert videos and remind myself how full my heart felt and how much I really do know what the human experience is like.

There were so many people at the concert who were so authentically themselves. A girl who survived her own brain with scars up her arms, a boy with blue hair and punk necklaces and bracelets making sure him and his friend got back to their spot in the pit on time, the girl in front of us who talked about Drag and who’s friend checked in on her regularly because she had POTS. It was so human to be in the pit with hundreds of strangers who we’ve now become acquainted with because of our love of a band. We really aren’t unique, but we also are, but not.

Really, only you can save you. Others can lend a hand and give you a shovel to dig you out of the hole, but when it comes to your mental health journey you have to put in the work yourself even when no one is there for you, because only you can save you.

Release that emotion by getting pit tickets for a concert and crying with 700 other strangers why don’t you? 

[unstoppableforcce]

marked in red pen

CHAPTER ONE: a cold morning

pairing: Javier Peña x journalist!f! reader

next part | masterlist

she’s lengthy, something like 5k :))

a/n: well, I wrote this during my break, I don’t know if I got better or I got worse but I wrote it! it’s good to be back writing and I really like this idea and can’t wait to keep going !!

He didn’t remember how to live in a city that wasn’t in Colombia. 

The echo around the small staff parking lot clearly came from a car backfiring, yet his mind immediately jumped to a gunshot, like all the ones he had fired and all the ones that had been fired back at him. As his dress shoes stepped out onto the loose and dusty asphalt of the lot, the fresh morning breeze froze him with the shocking chill of winter, yet it was the distinct sound of the car backfiring that woke him up the rest of his way out of his self-induced hangover. 

It sounded like a gunshot. 

It was nearly 8 in the morning on a regular old Monday in Austin, yet he jumped like the sound had echoed around a small Colombian alleyway where Carrillo was holding an army of young boys on their knees. And with the haunting noise came the onslaught of painful memories whether he recognized the reality of the situation or not, the same wave of emotions that used to keep him up in an empty bed back in Bogota now crashing over him as he leaned against the side of his car with a bag of papers over his shoulder instead of a gun on his hip. He could feel the guilt tearing him apart from the inside out, he could feel the weight of his conscious settling heavy in his gut and on his shoulders, pulling him to the ground and exacerbating the very real pain in his back with a phantom pull. 

Each breath of freezing air in and out did little to calm him even as he fought his own mind back towards some semblance of composure while his colleagues exited their cars around him and began walking in towards campus. His lungs burned with the fresh assault of the winter chill while also aching for the burn of something stronger, for one of the straggling cigarettes he was sure he could find in the car despite having quit nearly a year ago when he got back. 

Back to the States, back to Texas and now back to Austin. 

Another round of deep breaths and he slowly began to regain a hint of himself back, he wasn’t sure what that was worth but breath after breath, as the memories that were somewhat of a constant fixture in his damaged mind began to fade back into their quiet lingering in the back of his mind, he slowly found himself back in the staff parking lot. His vision was still faded at the edges, but he could muster up enough strength in his chest to look down to his watch, the nice, new, expensive one that the DEA had given him as a parting present. The edges of the cold metal dug uncomfortably into the skin of his wrist, and every shift he made pinched the hair of his arm within the metal brackets of the band, but the crystal face did what it was designed to do and told him that it was no longer just nearly 8 in the morning, it was exactly 8 in the morning. 

And his lecture started in ten minutes. 

It wasn’t even a gunshot, it was a sound that vaguely resembled a gunshot and three minutes had to pass before he could stand up straight again. 

What is wrong with me? He cursed close to his chest as his freezing, trembling hands moved to rub over his eyes before adjusting the strap of his bag securely on his shoulder. Whatever he was feeling didn’t matter, he had to lock his car and get to class. 

The ghost town like campus he crossed to get to his lecture hall was a fair preparation for what was in store for him when he walked in, just a minute before he was obligated to begin lecturing. The students who had the decency to show up were scarce and separate across the 60 person lecture hall, maybe filling up about a third of the seats if he was being favorable in his estimates. It wasn’t a surprise, not only had it been exactly the same for the majority of his first semester teaching, but on day one of this current semester, when he announced that attendance wasn’t mandatory, he was quickly interrupted by one student packing up and leaving on the spot, before the syllabus was even fully covered. 

The twenty or so students he did get were always the same. He was bad at learning names, but it was the second week of classes and he had their faces, he had always been better with faces. Whether it was sitting for hours on stakeouts mentally cataloging every face that passed while Steve took diligent photos for them to search through later or keeping track of the students who regularly showed up for his lectures, he was good with faces. 

It was why he knew that you didn’t belong the second he dropped his bag to the desk, pulled out a stack of papers, and lifted his head to say ‘good morning’ only to find a brand new face sat in the back row of his desolate and moderately dilapidated lecture hall. 

His head immediately went into a downward spiral, considering and subsequently crossing out theory after theory as to who you were, immersed among his students, yet too old and too put-together to be one of them. While they couldn’t care less that he walked in the room to begin lecturing, you were actually paying attention, following him as he pulled out his good pen and lecture notes, still following him as he turned to the board to begin writing only to turn back to grab chalk from his bag when he found none at the board. He only made eye contact with you once, the first time he caught sight of you, but he was trained for this sort of thing, for feeling a pair of eyes staying attached to him even as he turned his back or looked away, and it stuck with him as well as all the haunting memories. 

Were you auditing the class? Surely he would have been told to expect you or at the very least, he would recognize you as another member of his department, but you weren’t, so clearly that wasn’t the case. Maybe you were lost? But then again, with the way your stare locked to him the second he walked in, that also wasn’t the case at hand. A grad student with questions? A desperate TA looking for a job and hoping he was given the budget to hire one? Even those felt like a stretch, besides, he had office hours posted on the wall outside his office and in the department catalog, any student would just find him then. 

That left him with one remaining, yet exhaustedly confusing option. You weren’t a student, you weren’t associated with the university at all. 

What did that mean for why you were there? He couldn’t say. 

He glanced back down to his watch and sucked in a deep breath of the stale, warm air of the room, and resigned himself to the fact that it was now twelve minutes after the hour. He had to start class, whoever you were was a problem for him once class was finished.

“Good morning…” He exhaled the heavy breath and paced toward the middle of the space allotted for him to lecture in, chalk in one hand and slowly loosening fist in the other which came up to rub over the top of his mustache as he cleared his throat. “I have your short answer questions back from last week, but I’ll have you come get them after class so that I can start talking about today’s topic of government oversight…” 

By the half hour mark, as expected, a handful of students were beginning to doze off while he outlined the exemptions to the Freedom of Information act. But not you in the back of the class, leaned back in your seat with your hands in your lap, diligently following along while even his students who tried to take notes were falling behind as yawns overtook them. 

That was the way it continued for the rest of the hour as well. By the time the hands beneath the crystal of his watch face where clicking softly towards the nine o'clock hour and the distant chimes of the clock tower out in the courtyard rang out, his students were only awake because he was calling out their names, attempting to pass back their short answer responses from last Monday’s lecture. Each one who grabbed their paper took it, stuffed it into their bag, and cleared from the room about as fast as they were likely to move if they were fleeing a fire, like his lectures were somehow as disastrous an equivalent. 

Some had the decency to say a quick ‘thank you’ before leaving at a normal pace, but it was a minority of students at best. Thankfully, having less students in lecture meant having less to pass back, the rest of the students would just have to come get them during office hours. 

That left him with just you in the large and empty lecture hall. The mysterious you. 

“Can I help you with something?” He voiced once the final student took their paper and left the room. 

He turned back to his desk, sticking the stack back in his bag as he heard you descending the lecture hall stairs behind him, but within seconds, as he moved to put his pen away alongside his lecture notes, you were in front of him, extending your hand and introducing yourself. 

Your smile confirmed what he was already sure he knew, you were no student. The last time a student smiled in this room was when he said that his tests would be relatively easy on the first day of class while he was going over the syllabus, and yours was too mature to paint you as a student, too warm as it filled the emptiness of the stale air. 

Still, that left him with nothing else to go off of as he took you hand for a firm, respectful shake and offered his name in return, “Javier Peña.”

Then you finished your introduction and any breath of fresh air you had offered to the stagnant room fell as flat as his monotone voice did while he lectured. 

“I’m a reporter with the Austin Statesman.” 

There was no hiding his distaste for journalists, so why even bother. It had been bred into him long before he ever got involved with the DEA but ever since returning to the states, it had grown more and more like hatred instead of distaste if he was being honest.

He was hounded by calls from reporters across the country wanting him to talk about Escobar and Colombia and what it was all like, just so they could put his face on the front page under a headline that read ‘Escobar’ and reap the benefits of selling his soul out for entertainment. A reporter even had the audacity to show up at his father’s house trying to ask him questions about what he thought of the whole thing. 

So when the scoff bubbled out of his chest and his hand singed from where he held yours, he made no attempt to hide it. He pulled his hand away, rolled his eyes and finished filling his bag, able to keep his stare from your form for the first time since he had noticed you, he wanted you to be the furthest thing from his mind even as you moved to maintain his attention. 

“You won’t even hear me out?” 

He could hear the amusement in your voice as you fought back, and as he spared a quick glance back to you, he found your stood steady across from him, hands holding the strap of your messenger bag which crossed your chest with a steady kind of confidence settling in your shoulders. It was smugness, and for a man who had spent his entire career surrounded by the most smug men imaginable, government men, he had to say, you were doing a fine job of it yourself. 

He hated it. It might have looked better on you than it ever did the men in suits that surrounded him, but he still hated it. 

“I’m not interested.” He spoke as a matter of fact as he collected the last of his things, put his bag back on his shoulder and moved passed you towards the door his students had just left through. 

But it had been naïve to think that the dedication that led you to sit through his entire lecture would suddenly evaporate as he moved out into the hall now bustling with students moving to their next classes. With one glance over his shoulder, he found you matching his intensity to get away with your intensity to keep up. 

And as he burst through the outside doors, he found you going step for step with him out into the cold breeze of the courtyard filled with students crossing in every direction. 

“You don’t even know why I’m here,” you spoke up as he seemed to only move faster, fighting you as much as he was fighting for warmth in the freezing winter morning. 

“You’re a reporter for the Austin paper, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

With another glance back over his shoulder, his stare landed on you in the exact moment your eyes gave a subtle roll and a scoff, equally as indignant as his own had been, fell from your wind-chapped lips. Lips he had absolutely no business looking at, he reminded himself as he turned his head back to the hoard of sleep-deprived students around him with no plans to stop for you to catch up. Not until his feet hit the dampened grass in the middle of the courtyard and he felt a hand grab the loose fabric where his suit jacket bunched at the bend of his elbow. 

He was stopped where he stood and you quickly moved around him to come face to face with him, brow firm with a determination he was all too familiar with. It wasn’t just stubbornness, he could see that much clearer now as the gentle rays of sun cut through the grey morning clouds to illuminate your face, it was absolute determination. 

The same determination that caught him Escobar. 

“I’m sure I’m not the first to come with this offer but it’s not what you think,” you huffed, the exhausted breath hot as it fled your lips but quickly condensing in the icy air between the two of you as you settled in front of him.

The cold was biting at your bare face and attacking your fingertips, forcing a desperate clench to your fists around the strap of your back across your chest as you, very subtly but easily noticed by his careful watching eye, bounced on your toes while you held his attention and continued, “I’m not interested in writing some glorified Escobar tell-all.”

Another chilly breeze whipped through the courtyard as the students around the two of you continued streaming, flowing like diligent fish in a school, into the surrounding buildings in a blur. One by one they passed by in his peripheral, but with his breath holding stale in his throat, he truly only saw you and each individual edge to your face, as equally stern in its seriousness as soft in its sincerity.

Every painful memory that haunted his head told him to keep his mouth shut and his brow furrowed, but his gut said something else entirely. 

His gut had gotten him through fire and fury and home in mostly one piece every night, and as he looked at you, scanning your disposition and lingering on your focused face, his gut was telling him that he could trust you at your word. It wasn’t his heart, or any other muscle in his body as his stare held heavy on your face, it truly was his gut. And he trusted his gut.

Fuck… he was itching for a cigarette. 

“What do you have an… interest in?” He sucked his lip briefly through his teeth as his hand mindlessly reached for his mustache again, his freezing fingertips pushing it down as he moved to rub over his lips.

“Right now?” You quirked your head a little to the side, your shoulders raising to your ears slightly. “To be having this conversation in a heated building?”

The scoff that fell out of his chest was admitably slightly hostile, but the gentle nod of his head was not. Within the second it left his lips, he found himself continuing his walk towards the old office building ahead and you trailing right behind him, a smugness still settled comfortably on your lips.

He even did better than a warm building.

As he left you in his office for a brief second to grab himself a cup of coffee, he found a clean extra mug and poured you a fresh cup as well. Your ‘thanks’ was quiet as you accepted it, and as he settled down in his seat behind his desk, he drew you back from where you stood by the back wall, casually studying his diplomas and book shelf.

“If not an Escobar entertainment piece, what did you have in mind?”

He pulled you back to reality and after you stole a sip of your coffee, you settled into the seat across from him. “My editor wants a promotable local to put in a headline and I promised you, it doesn't really matter what I write about as long as your name is in big print above the fold.”

He laughed. A real laugh. He barely remembered what it felt like but as soon as it started, he knew it was a genuine laugh.

It was funny, ironic actually, you couldn’t see that, obvious by the twist of your face in confusion, but it was all he could see.

It was the kind of shit he would have pulled when he was younger, more dedicated to his position, and as driven as you were. Doing the most you could in the way you wanted while still technically doing as you were told, it was damn near poetic. 

“He won’t mind if you don’t mention Escobar?” He countered, feeling warmth spark in his chest as his coffee burned down his throat with a deep swallow. 

But you just shrugged, doing the same. “She just wants to sell papers, won’t mind if readers don’t necessarily find the entertainment they expect.”

“And what will they find?” Relaxing back in his seat, holding his coffee close to his chest, he watched as you did the same, reclining into the uncomfortable wooden chair with one leg uncrossed from the other. 

“I’ll write whatever you want me to write. I mean, it should at least be slightly relevant to Colombia but if you just want to say ‘hey, I was there and now I’m here, teaching at my alma mater,’ I’m sure I can manage something like that.”

He scoffed again, but this time, it echoed out of his chest much more like a chuckle than like a scoff, no heat, no annoyance, nothing more than a small hint of amusement, something he hadn’t felt rattle around his chest in a long time. Too long… And he knew why that was. 

He knew why he tried to get away from you the second you showed up, and while some of it definitely had to do with the press badge lanyard hanging out of your bag where it was sat next to your feet, a lot of it had to do with the determination he saw in your brow in the first second after he blew you off. It was something he could find himself too easily attracted to, and that wasn’t what he deserved. 

He deserved cold mornings and colder nights, kept awake by the aggressive, tormenting nightmares of his own reality, not warm coffee and laughs. Whatever this was, whatever it had the potential to be, even if it were to just be you writing a piece with his name and his story, it just wouldn’t work. 

Any gut feeling about you was trampled by the solid the solid reality of the matter. He didn’t deserve it and he knew that. 

“I’m afraid I’m not very good at talking about myself, or Colombia, or anything that would make a story, so…” He trailed off, trying to keep his eyes anywhere but where your lingering stare could find it, specifically, the deep dark color of the coffee in his cup while the bitter taste sat heavy in his mouth. But the words he needed to get out, those were much worse settling on his tongue. “I’m sorry, I just don’t think it will work.”

As his hand reached up to rub absentmindedly over his nose and mouth again, his stare hesitantly lifted to yours, trying to get a read on where you were at, but your smug smirk had yet to vacate your lips where you leaned back in your seat. 

“I’m a pretty good writer, Agent Peña,” you argued. 

“I have no trouble believing that, but I’m not good at this, I can’t—”

He couldn't even get the words out before you were leaning forward to leave your mug on his desk and bending down for your bag. His mouth opened to sputter out some defense, but you hadn’t left yet, you had just pulled a small business card from the side pocket of your bag and put it into his hand, and when he looked from the two phone numbers that followed your name and title at the Statesman, he found the smug look had softened on your face but hadn’t dissipated entirely. 

“There’s actually a protest happening across campus right now, so I’ve got to get going…” you trailed off with a shrug. 

“You double-booked me?”

With a laugh, you grabbed your bag and tossed it effortlessly over your shoulder and gave another brief shrug, “The job keeps me pretty busy and I figured I would already be on campus, so.”

He stood to match your height and extended a hand for you to shake as another apology spilled from his lips, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be that headline for your boss.”

“So you say.”

“Excuse me?” His head quirked as your hand took his with a shake equally as firm in it’s determination as your brow was. 

“I was embedded overseas, I know the look,” you shrugged, much to casual for what you were implying as you dropped his hand and stepped back towards the shut office door. “Call any time, if you don’t get me, you’ll get my assistant and she can track me down.”

Looking down at the card, twirling the sharp edges of the card stock between his fingers, he was stuck, knowing something needed to be said on his end but not capable of finding the words.

You weren’t done yet though, “Any hour. Whether you want to talk about the piece I’m going to write or, I don’t know, maybe how to keep your students awake during lecture. Just, call anytime.”

His head twisted as confusion over took him, "The piece you’re going to write? I just said—”

“I heard what you said.” Your smile was truly genuine as it found your lips, erasing any hint of mocking smugness as you held the doorknob and lingered in his doorway. “I’ll be awaiting your call.”

But that wasn’t your final line, not as you held in the doorway and pointed towards his diplomas, specifically towards the University of Texas diploma closest to the door. “You know, I’ve got one of these too.”

“A lot of people do...” he sighed, settling back in his chair with a huff of exhaustion much to heavy for the hour of the morning that read on his uncomfortable watch.

But as his stare drifted back to you in the doorway, having expected you to have already left but finding you still lingering, he saw something else in the way you looked back to him. Something he had been hard pressed to find ever since he got back, something he certainly hadn’t found in the eyes of any other reporters that had stopped by.

It was understanding to some degree. Not just because the two of you shared an alma mater, but something else. Like you had said, you knew his look.

He thought you had just meant that you knew plenty of men who didn’t like to talk about their feelings but that wasn’t what you were getting at. There was something else there, another layer that you saw through, another level of understanding.

Maybe he was hallucinating it, or maybe his gut was right from the first moment he saw you. He could truly trust you at your word.

“Seriously, any hour,” you smirked one last time before your hand offered a brief wave and you disappeared through the doorway, out into the hall.

It should have been simple. 

He knew where he stood when it came to selling his story for entertainment, he knew it was wrong and he knew he wanted nothing to do with any reporter. Yet, your card stayed twirling in his hand for longer than it should have, and instead of it finding it’s way to the bottom of his wastebin, it found a safe home in the top drawer of his desk. 

For a rainy day. He told himself, he never knew when he might need a trustworthy reporter... 

He found his answer at the end of that week. 

Work stress was nothing new to him, but with that piled on top of the boredom that came with reading essays and the combined stress of trying to limit his drinking and stay a non-smoker, he was sinking. He hadn’t had a drink all week, he was being good, like he promised his doctor but... but fuck, he needed one now. 

But instead of finding a whisky bottle in the first desk drawer he opened, he found your business card. 

It should have been simple. The problem was that Javier Peña had never been very good at simple. 

You sounded positively exhausted as you picked up on the other end with a practiced repetition of your last name and position at the paper, but as he reintroduced himself, the harsh cut of your words seemed to roll back on your tongue as the same smug disposition you wore on your face carried through the phone. 

“I knew you’d call...”

His laugh was as exhausted as yours was, and even as every fiber of his rational mind was screaming that he was making a mistake, he licked over his bottom lip, reclined in his desk chair and kept talking. “Is it out of line to ask you out for a drink?”

There was a brief moment of silence as the rustling of your notepads and papers in the background stopped, and he truly feared he was overstepping the professional boundary you had approached him with. 

“Only if I let you buy mine for me,” you shot back, wearing a smirk on your lips that he could hear through the phone. “Meet me at sixth and Congress in twenty minutes?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

It was a mistake, but even knowing that, he stood up from his desk, loosened his tie and undid the first few buttons of his shirt before heading out to meet you. 

He had made worse mistakes. 

—

tags! (open)

@imananxiousdriver @kaetastic @revolution-starter @littlevodika​

[universi-tea]

Hi! I have a couple questions about navigating college: ways to foster a friendship with someone whose schedule does not match up with yours, how to figure out what your optimal workload is to keep a healthy work-life balance, how to not end up being the one student working alone on a partner project, how to work in group projects with students with different priorities, uncommon/ unknown resources and opportunities provided to college students

Hey babe!! 

friendship with someone whose schedule does not match up with yours

Even when schedules do match up it can be hard to keep up with friends when things get crazy. You have to be really intentional about making time for your friends (and yourself)! A few tips:

Make standing dates with friends -- if you’re both free Sunday at three, meet at a coffee shop every week and study. 

Invite friends to come along when you’re grocery shopping, going to the mall to buy shampoo, etc. Boring chores are much more fun that way!

Use in between time -- I loved making calls when I’m walking home from class (especially at night bc my street was rlly dark and creepy) because normally that time would be wasted

You both have to eat sometime. Meals are perfect to meetup (plus I have a very strict no-working-while-you-eat rule that I highly recomend)

Finding a good workload is to keep a healthy work-life balance

Start small and add in other responsibilities as you go

Don’t sign up for 5 tough classes your first semester. There’s a learning curve -- even if you were great in high school, now the classes are tougher plus you’re living on your own and trying to make friends, find your way, etc. Pick a tough class in a subject you’re good in, and make the rest easier and fun. 

Learn to say no!

Don’t overcommit -- you can’t realistically go to two club meetings every night, plus work, plus do homework, plus see friends, plus sleep

Don’t sign up for every club at the welcome fair. I’m still getting emails for clubs I never went to even after I graduated

If you don’t love it, quit. I don’t care if joining the debate team will look great on grad school applications, if you hate it college is too short to waste time on something that doesn’t bring you joy

how to not end up being the one student working on a partner project

This always worked itself out pretty well. Be organized -- start a group chat as soon as you’re assigned, set a time to meet and divide up responsibilities. Be clear about expectations and give yourselves time to review everything before the due date and you’ll be gold. 

how to work in group projects with students with different priorities

Learning how to compromise and let things go is super important. Realize that different expectations from you aren’t necessarily bad. Sit down, talk about your individual priorities and find a way to meet in the middle. From my experience group projects are rarely graded harshly, so I eventually learned to go with the flow and just do my part the best I could, even if I hated the font choice on the power point or whatever. 

uncommon resources and opportunities provided to college students

Student discounts! So many places give them. Ask before you buy anything

Museums are often free or discounted

Speaking of -- “lose” your student ID senior year so you can get a brand new one with a brand new expiration date. I’ll be enjoying that 15% off all the way until 2024, thankyouverymuch

Alumni networks are majorly helpful. LinkedIn is a great way to find alums in your field -- reach out and ask for advice!

Get involved in your major -- there may be clubs, events, or even just studying in a certain spot where lots of your major hangs out. Being connected will be so helpful both in school and after graduation.

Academic resources -- tutoring, writing centers, etc are usually free

IT services. Even if it’s not class related, they’ll probably be happy to help revive your laptop that’s bogged down or whatever

You may get free subscriptions -- Adobe Creative Cloud, Microsoft Office, etc. Take advantage!!

Spotify premium for $5/month, + free Hulu. Best deal hands down

Half price Amazon Prime 

Best Buy/Apple give discounts on laptops

Or your school may have special deals!

Take advantage of on campus activities -- sports, events, etc

Your school will have tons of stuff specific to your school -- ask!

Good luck!! I hope you love college as much as I did. 

[ftchloes]

           well  ...  🤡  .  leave  me  to  be  very  ill - prepared  and  very  late  to  post  my  intro  ,  but  here  it  is  !  this  is  my  very  on  love  chloe  moon  ,  and  i’m  super  excited  to  be  here  to  plot  with  everyone  !  oop  ,  haven’t  introduced  myself  ,  but  i’m  kris  !  please  feel  free  to  call  me  momager  (  i’m  kidding  lmao  )  ,  i  prefer  either  she  /  her  or  they  /  them  pronouns  ,  and  i  hail  from  the  east  coast  !  i’m  not  gonna  lie  to  ya’ll  ,  i  tend  to  write  way  too  much  for  my  own  good  ,  but  i  want  to  answer  questions  ya’ll  might  have  without  having  to  ask  !  that  being  said  ,  here’s  everything  to  know  about  chloe  !

            *  𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐠𝐨𝐬  here  and  do  i  have  the  tea  for  you  .  𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐨𝐞  is  back  in  bridgehampton  for  the  summer  ,  living  off  the  𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧  family  $𝟒𝟖𝐛  net  worth  .  must  be  nice  to  come  back  home  to  the  hamptons  ,  i  wonder  what  her  fellow  class  of  2017  grads  think  of  her  return  .  you  know  ,  she  was  known  around  town  as  the  𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧  𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫  𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲  and  for  bhs  senior  superlatives  she  was  crowned  as  𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭  𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐲  𝐭𝐨  𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞  𝐚  𝐦𝐚𝐧  𝐜𝐫𝐲  .  i  wonder  if  that  still  holds  true  today  ,  a  lot  can  change  when  you  go  off  to  𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐥   𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲  and  study  𝐦𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥  𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠  .  either  way  ,  i  bet  she  is  still  very  𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐝  ,  𝐝𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬  ,  𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭  and  𝐭𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞 - 𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝  .  hopefully  this  time  next  year  the  plans  to  𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡  𝐚  𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲  𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝  𝐢𝐧  𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬  𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫  𝐡𝐞𝐫  𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲'𝐬  𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞  come  true  .  in  the  meantime  ,  i  look  forward  to  seeing  her  blast  𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐢  -  𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲  𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬 at  every  hamptons  function  .  it’s  going  to  be  a  wild  summer  home  ,  welcome  back  .

trigger  warning(s)  :  bullying  .

𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞  :  chloe  moon  .

𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬  :  chlo  ,  coco  ,  loey  .

𝐚𝐠𝐞  +  𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞  𝐨𝐟  𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡  :  21  +   november  10th  ,  1999  .

𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥  𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧  :  scorpio  ,  sagittarius  moon  and  scorpio  sun  .

𝐦𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬 - 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐬  𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲  𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞  :  istp  ;  a  virtuoso  .

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥  𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭  :  neutral  evil  .  

𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦  𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞  :  the  challenger  .

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫  +  𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬  :  cis  female  +  she  /  her  .

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞  𝐨𝐟  𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡  :  sydney  ,  new  south  wales  ,  australia  .

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞  𝐨𝐟  𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞  :  bridgehampton  ,  new  york  .

𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥  𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧  :  bisexual  .

𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜  𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧  :  biromantic  .  

𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧  :  social  media  influencer  ,  heiress  ,  and  student  .

𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲  :  korean - australian  .

𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲  :  australian  .  

𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬  𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧  :  english  ,  korean  ,  japanese  ,  and  mandarin  .

i.  prosopography  .

            chloe’s  life  story  begins  with  the  accidental  meeting  of  her  parents  ,  moon  dae - hyun  and  kim  eun - ha  .  during  that  time  ,  the  two  were  living  in  seoul  ,  south  korea  and  their  names  were  known  throughout  the  social  scene  of  seoul  .  eun -ha  is  the  son  of  one  of  the  wealthiest  men  in  south  korea  ,  kim  han - bin  .  kim  han - bin  is  the  son  of  the  man  who  started  moon  industries  ,  a  real  estate  and  construction  conglomerate  that  was  founded  in  the  1940s  .  the  company  was  founded  in  seoul  ,  and  originally  started  out  by  purchasing  and  renovating  the  beautiful  homes  and  condominiums  within  the  city  .  after  about  thirty  years  in  the  business  ,  han - bin’s  father  was  one  of  the  first  in  south  korea  to  reach  the  status  of  billionaire  .  

            eun - ha  grew  up  in  a  life  of  privilege  ,  whereas  dae - hyun  grew  up  in  a  world  where  he  had  to  work  for  everything  he  wanted  .  that  didn’t  stop  him  from  pursuing  a  degree  at  seoul  national  university  .  where  he  obtained  a  degree  in  architecture  .  so  ,  when  they  bumped  into  one  another  on  the  prestigious  school’s  campus  ,  it  was  love  at  first  sight  .  they  were  so  in  love  ,  in  fact  ,  that  the  couple  married  a  year  of  knowing  each  other  .  dae - hyun  accepted  a  job  designing  buildings  and  homes  under  kim  han - bin  ,  and  the  two  welcomed  their  first  daughters  into  the  world  .  natalie  and  nicole  were  welcomed  into  the  world  ,  and  the  family  lived  comfortably  in  their  not - so  modest  condo  in  seoul  .  

            within  three  years  ,  the  young  family  was  relocating  to  sydney  ,  australia  as  the  family  business  continued  to  expand  .  little  did  the  couple  know  ,  they  were  pregnant  with  their  next  daughter  .  six  months  after  moving  to  sydney  ,  and  completely  unexpected  as  she  wasn’t  due  for  another  three  days  ,  their  baby  girl  chloe  decided  that  she  was  ready  to  come  into  the  world  in  the  bath  tub  .  they  called  for  an  ambulance  ,  but  chloe  wasn’t  one  to  wait  ,  so  she  was  soon  being  born  into  her  father’s  shaking  hands  only  five  minutes  after  her  mother’s  water  broke  .  chloe  was  a  beautiful  bundle  of  joy  and  was  a  fun  baby  to  be  around  .

            chloe  spent  her  formative  years  in  australia  ,  attending  one  of  the  best  schools  in  sydney  .  during  those  years  ,  chloe  picked  up  on  various  talents  ,  most  notably  playing  the  cello  and  developing  her  skills  in  ballet  .  after  about  six  years  in  sydney  ,  the  family  decided  that  they  were  going  to  leave  the  down  under  and  head  to  the  states  ,  where  the  family  was  most  interested  in  expanding  the  company  .  originally  ,  they  settled  in  atlanta  ,  georgia  and  after  two  years  (  along  with  the  birth  of  chloe’s  younger  sister  kai  )  ,  but  they  moved  to  bridgehampton  at  the  start  of  chloe’s  seventh  grade  year  .

            she  easily  made  friends  due  to  her  extroverted  nature  ,  but  she  also  faced  unexpected  bullying  .  upon  moving  to  the  hamptons  ,  her  parents  were  already  known  because  of  their  purchasing  of  many  of  the  homes  on  the  island  .   the  family  home  was  one  of  the  largest  and  most  expensive  on  the  island  ,  alongside  an  equestrian  facility  .  the  family  was  already  different  from  those  around  them  ,  and  thus  when  chloe  started  school  ,  she  was  treated  poorly  .  while  everyone  around  them  had  money  ,  it  was  no  secret  that  the  moon  family  lived  a  life  of  luxury  .  chloe  was  dropped  off  by  chauffeured  cars  and  only  wore  the  best  of  the  best  ,  and  it  didn’t  help  that  she  was  whip  smart  .

            chloe  was  a  target  of  bullying  because  everyone  assumed  she  thought  she  was  better  than  them  because  of  her  family’s  wealth  and  her  grades  ,  but  every  time  she  tried  to  defend  herself  ,  she  was  only  mocked  because  of  her  australian  accent  .  her  spellings  was  different  alongside  her  wording  and  phrases  ,  and  chloe  didn’t  know  how  to  handle  the  constant  ridicule  .  eventually  ,  while  still  in  middle  school  ,  she  kept  to  herself  and  kept  up  her  good  grades  as  it  was  expected  by  her  parents  .  she  constantly  studied  hard  and  began  fighting  back  against  the  teachers  who  marked  down  her  assignments  because  she  was  allegedly  spelling  wrong  to  get  the  grades  she  deserved  .  chloe  endured  the  bullying  until  the  focus  was  set  on  someone  else  ,  and  over  the  summer  before  the  start  of  high  school  ,  chloe  returned  to  school  almost  as  a  brand  new  person  .

            high  school  aged  chloe  was  no  longer  afraid  to  defend  herself  in  fear  that  she  was  going  to  be  mocked  because  of  her  accent  .  she  pursued  her  passions  ,  joining  various  clubs  and  organizations  that  interested  her  :  tsa  ,  national  honor  society  ,  student  government  (  as  president  )  ,  and  orchestra  ,  where  she  played  first  chair  cello  for  all  four  years  .  the  shy  and  sweet  chloe  that  people  knew  before  was  no  longer  ,  as  she  took  refused  to  roll  over  since  that  was  not  how  her  parents  raised  her  to  be  .  upon  her  graduation  from  high  school  ,  chloe  graduated  as  first  in  their  class  ,  and  after  being  accepted  into  the  schools  she  applied  to  (  cornell  university  ,  the  university  of  pennsylvania  ,  and  brown  university  )  ,  chloe  announced  that  she  was  going  to  cornell  for  mechanical  engineering  .

ii.  temperament  .

due  to  the  bullying  she  faced  as  a  pre - teen  ,  chloe  has  become  someone  who  doesn’t  hold  her  tongue  anymore  .  she’s  very  blunt  and  is  openly  against  those  who  really  are  being  bitchy  for  no  given  reason  .  she’s  not  mean  outright  ,  but  definitely  responds  to  that  kind  of  energy  whenever  it’s  dished  out  .

through  the  years  ,  she  began  to  notice  how  much  her  family  was  really  worth  ,  and  that  developed  a  true  superiority  complex  .  while  she  doesn’t  verbally  brag  all  the  time  ,  it’s  not  unheard  of  for  her  to  drop  subtle  jabs  here  or  there  while  mentioning  what  she  has  or  laughing  at  what  someone  else  may  lack  .  she  does  not  like  those  who  are  overly  nice  ,  and  a  better  way  to  put  it  is  that  chloe’s  the  mean  friend  .

she’s  not  stone  cold  ,  though  because  she  doesn’t  pretend  as  though  she  doesn’t  have  emotions  or  is  incapable  of  sympathy  /  compassion  .  she’s  nice  to  those  who  don’t  start  mess  ,  but  if  you’re  that  type  then  chances  are  she’ll  return  that  same  energy  .  she  likes  a  challenge  and  she  naturally  tends  to  create  chaos  for  the  sake  of  doing  it  (  insert  cheryl  blossom’s  iconic  ,  ‘  i’m  in  the  mood  for  chaos  ,  ’  quote  here  .  )

iii.  headcanons  .

being  a  part  of  cornell’s  engineering  program  comes  with  a  lot  of  being  annoyed  every  day  .  it’s  filled  with  a  lot  of  m*n  who  looked  down  on  her  because  she’s  a  woman  (  gross  )  and  even  made  the  jokes  wondering  if  she  was  in  the  right  class  .  it  mostly  stems  from  the  fact  that  chloe  went  to  class  in  looks  and  not  looking  like  she  rolled  out  of  bed  every  day  .  she  never  snapped  back  at  them  ,  but  she  remains  as  the  number  one  student  and  those  same  m*n  fight  for  her  to  be  on  their  teams  .

although  majoring  in  mechanical  engineering  because  her  family  works  in  construction  and  real  estate  ,  she  focuses  in  sports  engineering  because  she  wants  to  develop  sports  for  the  better  .  she  wants  to  create  state  of  the  art  sports  facilities  ,  design  sports  equipment  ,  develop  performance  and  safety  standards  ,  as  well  as  coaching  and  training  tools  .  

chloe  will  100%  stir  the  pot  so  don’t  tell  her  your  deepest  secrets  or  she’ll  find  a  way  to  make  it  known  .  whether  that’s  via  being  shady  or  toting  the  news  to  her  friends  ,  she’ll  spill  your  tea  and  own  the  fact  that  she  did  .

while  she  loves  her  designer  clothes  and  accessories  ,  chloe  is  most  comfortable  when  her  contacts  are  replaced  with  her  glasses  and  she’s  wearing  loungewear  .  i  envision  her  as  having  jennie’s  iconic  long  hair  ,  so  she’s  definitely  developed  a  habit  of  constantly  brushing  her  hair  out  of  her  face  or  pulling  it  up  into  a  bun  only  to  continue  messing  with  it  .

she  doesn’t  drive  her  own  car  because  she  finds  it  to  be  dumb  !  just  kidding  ,  she  doesn’t  really  like  driving  but  she  was  never  given  her  own  car  because  she  simply  didn’t  want  one  .  that  being  said  ,  though  ,  she  can  usually  be  seen  riding  around  in  her  dad’s  bentley  bentayga  .

[angstmongertina]

A Change of Scene (Obey Me)

In which the devildom was not ready for the pure irreverent Shane Madej style energy of its newest exchange student.

For the lovely @writer-of-words. Hopefully this is similar to what you were looking for! <3

It took her less than five minutes to come to the realization that her new position as the devildom’s newest exchange student, which she notably did not apply to, kind of sucked. Oh, it was certainly different than life in the human world, but that didn’t mean it was all sunshines and roses either. Not that there was even sunshine in the devildom’s eternal night, because of course the place had to be as stereotypically extra as possible.

For one thing, she was apparently required to go back to school, complete with everything that entailed, like classes and homework and exams. After surviving college and moving on to grad school, without all of the endless tedium and testing, simply the concept of returning to any sort of system with grades was enough to be considered hell. Which, on second thought, was perhaps appropriate considering where exactly her new home-away-from-home, at least for the next year, was situated.

And it wasn’t even just school, but there was also the matter of being surrounded by demons on their home turf, some of whom, at least according to the uptight kiss-ass who was apparently The Avatar of Pride, would not think twice about doing her harm. Then again, she had essentially been assigned her own bodyguard team, considering there were six brothers in the so-called House of Lamentation—good god, she desperately needed to give whoever designed the entire realm a lesson in what qualified as reasonable branding—who were expected to keep her alive, so…

Well, how many times would she be given an opportunity like this? Forget that, how many humans in general would be given an opportunity like this? Really, it would be a horrible waste if she didn’t take full advantage of her newfound position. Including and not limited to seeing just how much shit these apparently most powerful demons would let her get away with.

“Do you have other questions?”

“Nope.” The “p” practically echoed through the large chamber, and the dark-haired Avatar of Pride’s expression visibly soured. “I’m good for now. Thanks, my dude.” She flashed him a double thumbs up, complete with an insolent grin.

The “dude” in question threw his head back and laughed, his stick-in-the-mud right-hand-man glowered menacingly at her, and she followed the white-haired demon—Mammon, was it?—out of the room with a jaunty step.

Well, if she was going to be stuck in the devildom and in school, no less, she might as well find a way to make the best of it.

[queerhargreeves]

Makes sense

nb Klaus and trans Diego are the only acceptable headcanons

here’s a lil self indulgent fic i wrote :’))

—————————————————————————-

It had been a few months since the Hargreeves had avoided the end of the world. At first they were all sort of shocked. Nothing felt quite real - nothing felt the same. They didn’t feel the same. They’ve been working together to regain some sort of normalcy in their lives. All seven of the siblings had their own unique “quirks”.

Luther was learning how to be an actual person without a mission. He spent 30 years aimlessly following orders and now that he has this newfound freedom, he’s working on trying to find his “thing”. Right now he’s experimenting with painting. He had spent about $1,500 of their fathers money on art supplies and his siblings fully supported that use of his money. Often times he’d end up painting the moon and the sights he saw while up there.

As time progressed Diego’s stutter started to reappear and not just when he was emotional. He would wake up every morning and say the same line to the reflection.

“My name is Diego Hargreeves and I am here.” That line became his new mantra. He affirmed his existence every morning while seeing where his brain and his body lined up that day. Sometimes it wouldn’t come out of his mouth as clean as he’d want. Sometimes it wouldn’t come out at all. During those times he signed for the day. Klaus and Diego had learned the basics as kids. They would sneak in the library and find the ASL books and cram as much information as they could in their heads before they got kicked out of the room. Klaus wanted Diego to know there was more than one way to communicate; he wanted him to know that he could express himself without words. Diego had been busying himself in boxing once more. Him and Luther turned one of the rooms downstairs into their own personal gym. He found it to be a good stress release even if he wasn’t living at the boxing rink anymore. He was still competing and his family came to every event to cheer him on.

Allison may have lost her voice but she didn’t lose her passion for acting. She’s been interpreting for shows and musicals. She even auditioned for Deaf West Sprint Awakening with the encouragement of the other six Hargreeves of course. Vanya was not the most fluent in ASL. She wanted to help her sister with rehearsing and also wanted become more fluent herself. She felt like Allison deserved at least that much. The two sisters spent many nights together rehearsing the lines, making sure she was as good as she could be. She got the role. And Vanya is playing in the pit with her. Allisons siblings made sure she didn’t lose that part of herself.

Klaus, newly sober and doing well, painted his nails weekly and has started experimenting with makeup. He had bought just about every palette he could get his hands on and everyday he would look like a different person. The siblings always made sure to comment on the look of the day. Even Luther was able to tell he was improving. They spent too long not taking Klaus seriously that the least they could do was give him the affirmations he deserves. And every week he’d have a new nail color; this weeks being hot pink. He had his “weekly appointments” with Allison that involved gummy worms, soap operas, and nail polish.

Five made sure to make a marshmallow and peanut butter sandwich every morning for breakfast with a hot cup of coffee. He often read the newspaper and usually Ben was the only one up early enough to join him. The 13 year old body had been touch deprived for 45 years and the 20 year old had been unable to get in contact with anyone for 10 years. Ben and Five always made sure they had company within each other in the mornings.

Ben was able to be physically present for about 12 hours of the day. Klaus and Ben has been training hard so they could have their brother in their life again. All Ben wanted to do was spend time with his family. He helped Luther pick out the brands of paints he should from his research of art. He also made sure to research the best, non problematic makeup brands for Klaus to buy from. He even accompanied Vanya’s students on piano as he was an avid player until the day he died. If he wasn’t physically doing things with his family, he would be reading with them.

Even after all that happened Vanya is still playing violin. She’s not currently in school as she’s already a grad student. She doesn’t have any intentions on getting her masters in violin performance. She’s content teaching kids at home. Her family has made it a big thing: Grace always made sure the children had plenty of “brain food”. Allison helped turn one of the many bedrooms into a studio with creative design rightfully going to Klaus (or more so he insisted).

However one thing that Klaus didn’t expect to happen was the euphoria he started to feel. Not only was his family actually acting like a family, but he was able to actually discover who he is. His brain has finally been given a break. He’s able to have clear, cognitive thoughts that were entirely his own without the cloudiness or influence of any substance. This was the first time he was able to do so in 17 years.

Since he started playing with makeup he realized something. He wasn’t sure if he was really a “he” at all. Klaus knew he wasn’t a girl like Allison or Vanya are. But he knew he wasn’t a man like Diego or Luther.

Klaus learned about the difference between gender and sex after a long talk with Ben. Ben had found his sibling staring at their reflection in front of the, noticing the way they eyed every centimeter of their body with confusion one night. They had on black overalls with a black and white crop top underneath and their buckled booties on. They had a simple makeup look: just winged eyeliner and a red lip. They had grown out their curls long enough to where it touched their shoulders however they had it tied up in a bun.

“I just...i don’t feel like a guy.” Klaus finally let out after he noticed Ben’s gentle presence.

“That’s okay.”

“But I don’t feel like a girl.” They shifted, looking away from their reflection and staring at Ben’s. They weren’t sure what they were saying this out loud for but Ben has been their clarity filter for quite a few years now. He always knew what to say.

Ben came up right behind Klaus and peaked his head over his shoulder. Although they were taller than Ben, Klaus had never felt so small.

“Tell me what you’re thinking. What are you seeing?” Ben asked softly, putting his hand on the small of Klaus’ back for support.

They blinked at the question. They weren’t too sure how to answer that.

“I uh,” they paused and tugged at one of their sleeves and pulled it down, “I see a lanky person who doesn’t look like anything.”

Ben nodded and waved his hand as a sign to make them elaborate.

“I think I’m...I’m not anything? I’m just Klaus.”

“And just Klaus is good enough for me. Good enough for all of us. Have you considered that you may be nonbinary?” Ben spun their sibling around so they were now facing each other.

“Non-binary...?” Klaus’ voice tapered at the end. They had never heard of such a thing.

“From what I’ve read, nonbinary people are individuals who don’t identify as male or female. They don’t fit within either binary. They simply exist as a person regardless of the binary genders assumed of people. Some go by they/them pronouns,” Ben explained, “so like ‘oh that’s Jay’s jacket. They must have left it here when they went home’. It’s completely grammatically correct. Others are comfortable with he/she pronouns. Or all of the above! It all depends on the person. This identity fits under the trans umbrella which a lot of people don’t realize.” Ben found himself rambling which he usually did when educating someone about a subject. Even if he didn’t know the most about a topic he always appreciated when anyone would listen to him.

“You can do that? You can...you can actually live like that?” They were in shock. Everything Ben had just said felt like it came right from their brain as if he had peaked inside their head at their most intimate inner thoughts about themself.

“Absolutely.” Ben put his hand on their shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. Klaus’ eyes started to sting as they started to tear up. They immediately wrapped the shorter man into a hug, careful not to get makeup on his hoodie.

“Thank you. I think...I think that’s it. I’m nonbinary.” Klaus took a step back and wiped a tear from their eyes, looking up as they did so to not mess up their eyeliner.

“What pronouns are you comfortable with?” Ben inquired with a grin on his face. He loved seeing his sibling this happy.

“I...want to try they/them.” They stated, “if...if that’s okay.” Their head always made them feel like they were asking too much of people. They didn’t want to add any unnecessary stress to their siblings lives, not anymore.

“Of course it is, Klaus. Should we tell the others?” Ben nodded towards the door. “There’s absolutely no rush though.” He added, not wanting to make them feel like they had to announce their identity to the world.

“No yeah, I’d like to. I want to be 100% me to everyone.” Klaus agreed, a grin forming on their face.

“Alrighty then, family meeting time!” Ben marched to the door like a soldier which caused Klaus to bark out a laugh.

“Yeah okay buddy.” They rolled their eyes and followed suit.

They didn’t think they’d ever have to come out again. To say they weren’t scared would be a lie but they knew the could do this. Ben was on their side after all.

Ben grabbed Klaus’ bell on the way out and rang it through the halls.

“Non emergency family meeting people! Let’s go let’s go let’s goooo~” Ben chanted as each of their respective doors opened.

“Okay c-cool it with the bell, Ben. We heard it the first th-th-thousand rings.” Diego yanked the bell from his hand and ruffled his brothers hair.

“Fair enough. But you know I always need to make an entrance now.” Ben laughed as they seven of them seated themselves in the living room.

Ben walked up to the front with Klaus basically attached at his hip. It wasn’t unusual to find the two of them this close but they way Klaus was closing in on themself worried the family.

“What’s this about? I know you said nonemergency but,” Luther gestured to Klaus, “is this about-“

“Did you relapse, Klaus?” Five interrupted. He didn’t sound mad or accusatory, just concerned. His brows were furrowed and he was twirling his fingers in his lap.

“What, no? God no, don’t worry. I’m okay.” Klaus reassured their family as they waved their hands in front of them.

The rest of them immediately relaxed and all shared glances.

“What is this about then?” Allison signed carefully.

“I wanted to tell you guys I’m. Uh,” Ben gave them a nudge and a nod, reassuring them they can do this.

“I’m nonbinary.” They blurted in one breath. Their eyes were wide and he was frantically looking at each of them awaiting their reaction.

“I’m not familiar? What is this term. Nonbinary?” Five asked and leaned forward, ready to listen.

“It’s um, well, Ben knows more about this then I do but basically I don’t identify as a man. Or woman. I’ve never felt like either so...” Klaus trailed off

“Well I can’t really say that’s a far fetched concept to wrap my head around. You’ve always just been Klaus so this makes sense.” Luther pondered aloud almost like he was talking to himself.

Allison nodded. “I love you no matter what Klaus.” She signed and gave him a big smile.

Klaus signed thank you, feeling themself already getting emotional again.

“I could’ve told you that, K-Klaus. Is that name ok-okay still?” Diego asked and signed.

“Mmhmm! And I don’t think I really like he/him pronouns. They make me all,” they waved their hands in a dramatic motion and made a “ufjsjfjs” sound

“Dysphoric?” Diego finger spelled, knowing all too well what that felt like.

Klaus took a sharp inhale and snapped their fingers.

“Yes! Yes that’s it. It makes me uncomfy.”

“Now there’s two trans people in the family, one ace, five queer, and only one cis straight.” Vanya giggled and pointed at Luther at the last bit which earned the roll of his eyes.

“I’m the minority now.” He retorted in a fake ‘hurt’ voice and pointed at himself.

“It gets better.” Allison signed next to him and pat his shoulder.

The entire family bust out laughing, the quiet house filled being filled with their joy.

“Thank you for trusting us with this, Klaus.” Five stood up and walked over to his sibling and stopped right in front of them and turned around expectantly.

“Family hug time!” Vanya exclaimed and jumped right up. She attacked her sibling with a hug and the rest got up to do the same.

“Who ever would’ve thought it would take the end of the world for the Hargreeves to finally develop communication skills.” Ben’s voice was muffled in the middle of the 7 bodies but everyone heard him clearly.

“Let’s go shopping, yeah? I want to blow more of father dearests money on some new dresses. The ones I have are a bit dated.” Klaus suggested as they tried to wrangle themself out of the hug to go fix their makeup.

Everyone broke apart and watched their sibling dash up the stairs before giving anyone a chance to respond. Guess they were going to the mall.

But they would be going together. Even if that meant spending an hour in and out of the changing rooms as Klaus put on their own fashion show. They all enjoyed their time together nonetheless.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

HERE'S WHAT I JUST REALIZED ABOUT PRODUCTIVITY

Ditto for PayPal. The key question, I realized it would probably have to be just one valuation. The founders all learned to do every job in the company. Instead he can ask What would make the painting more interesting to people? I only thought of when I sat down to write them.1 It does not, for example. With Socrates, Plato, and particularly Aristotle, this tradition turned a corner.

Among them was Frederick's of Hollywood, which gave us valuable experience dealing with heavy loads on our servers. Few were sufficiently correct that people have forgotten who discovered what they discovered.2 It means these ideas are invisible to most people your age, others that will appeal to most people because it only recently became feasible. Economist J.3 2, because that also seems to be to start with good people, to make something customers want. It's often mistakenly believed that medieval universities were mostly seminaries. Technical tweaks may also help them to grasp what's special about your technology.

It was impressive even to ask the questions they asked were new to them, or cut them off.4 Will I ever read it?5 There is room for a new search engine, when there were already about 10, and they did it. Popular magazines made the period between the spread of literacy and the arrival of TV the golden age of the essay. It's not for the discovery that most previous philosophy was a waste of time?6 Those hours after the phone stops ringing are by far the best for getting work done. If you're curious about something, trust your instincts. Meaning everyone within this world was expected to seem more or less the same.

When they appeared it seemed as if search was a mature market, dominated by big players who'd spent millions to build their brands: Yahoo, Lycos, Excite, Infoseek, Altavista, Inktomi. Instead of trying to discover them because they're useful.7 Whatever you make will have to be disciplined about not letting your hypotheses harden into anything more. In the humanities you can either avoid drawing any definite conclusions e. Those whose jobs require them to judge art, like curators, mostly resort to euphemisms like significant or important or getting dangerously close realized. At this stage, all most investors expect is a brief description of what you plan to do and how you're going to replace email.8 I answered twenty, I could see at the time, a lot of valuable advice about business, and also did all the legal work of getting us set up as a company. When people sit down to watch a show, they want to live in the suburbs.

If you go to see Silicon Valley, what you'll see are buildings.9 Design by committee is a synonym for bad design. Will I ever read it?10 Customers loved us. And they each have.11 That may seem a frivolous reason to choose one language over another. Restaurants with great food seem to prosper no matter what you do. Like most startups, we changed our plan on the fly.

When you're just typing expressions into the toplevel, you want to invest in them.12 Writing was one of the founders we funded asked me why we started Y Combinator is neither selfish nor virtuous. If you tell the truth you don't have to remember anything, and that's likely to be done with levers and cams and gears are now done with loops and trees and closures.13 The only place to look was in the tradition of skateboards or bicycles rather than medical devices. They've applied for a lot of investors hated the idea, but the overall experience is much better than the soul-crushing suburban sprawl. If a nonprofit or government organization had started a project to index the web, Google at year 1 is the limit of what they'd have produced. Among them were Gordon Moore and Robert Noyce, who went on to found Intel, and Eugene Kleiner, who founded the VC firm Kleiner Perkins. Aristotle's goal was to find one angel to act as the lead investor.

Partly because, as components of oligopolies themselves, the corporations knew they could safely pass the cost on to their customers, because their competitors would have to as well.14 So it is with design.15 The real problem is that you look smug. The difference between then and now is that now I understand why Berkeley is probably not worth trying to understand its implications. It would have been better off; not only wouldn't these guys have broken anything, they'd have gotten a lot more done. It would be a curious state of affairs if you could get to the same spot. So if you're developing technology for money, you're probably not going to use TCP/IP just because everyone else does. In the old days, you could create a situation indistinguishable from you being that manufacturer, at least working on problems of minor importance.

That will tend to produce results that annoy people: there's no use in telling people things they already believe, and people answering it often aren't clear in their own mind how much is deliberate.16 Curiously enough, what got Segway into this problem was that customers didn't want the product. At the time it seemed the future.17 There's nothing more valuable than the advice of someone whose judgement you trust. It didn't shake itself free till a couple decades ago, geography was destiny for cities.18 Arguably it's an interesting failed experiment. The American way is to make money by creating wealth, you're always going to be fighting a losing battle against increasing variation in productivity.19 So there could be other ways to attract them, but they were only a little more out of their sales channels. The result was that I wrote it. Not any more.

Notes

I remember are famous flops like the intrusive ads popular on Delicious, but explain that's what they campaign for. But you're not allowed to ask, what you call the market. These two regions were the case. It will seem more interesting than random marks would be very promising, because the proportion of the Web was closely tied to the Pall Mall Gazette.

I'm not saying it's impossible to write your dissertation in the time 1992 the entire West Coast that still requires jackets: The Duty of Genius, Penguin, 1991, p. As Secretary of Labor Statistics, the big winners are all about hitting outliers, are better college candidates. Bad math is merely an upper bound on a weekend and sit alone and think.

Gary and I don't know of one investor who for some students to get elected with a company. That way most reach the stage where they're sufficiently convincing well before Demo Day. I was not just the local builders built everything in exactly the opposite: when we were quite sore from VCs attempting to probe our nonexistent database orifice.

And it would not know his name. It's conceivable that a skilled vine-dresser was worth about 125 to 150 drachmae.

So 80 years sounds to me like someone adding a few that are only doing angel deals to generate everything else in the next round is high, so it may have been seen mentioning the site was about bands.

This phenomenon may account for a long thread are rarely seen, when we created pets. This point is that the highest returns, it's implicit that this was hard to avoid using it, whether you have to be spread out geographically.

So where do we draw the line that philosophy is nonsense. You also have to resort to raising money. Most of the reasons angels like to invest at a public company CEOs were J.

Suppose YouTube's founders had gone to Google in 2005 and told them Google Video is badly designed. I replace the url with that of whatever they copied. Even as late as Newton's time it takes forever.

Digg is notorious for its lack of results achieved by alchemy and saying its value was as much as people in any case, because they are to be a quiet contentment.

An investor who invested earlier had been trained that anything hung on a hard technical problem. One sign of a handful of lame investors first, and b not allow them to tell them everything. Algorithms that use it are called naive Bayesian. Xxvii.

You're investing your own morale, you need a higher growth rate to impress are not mutually exclusive. This essay was written before Firefox. Google's site.

Founders also worry that taking time to come up with elaborate rationalizations. Words we use for good and bad technological progress is accelerating, so they made more that year from stock options, of course. The two 10 minuteses have 3 weeks between them.

A more accurate or at least once for that reason. This is one of a handful of consulting firms that rent out big pools of foreign programmers they bring in on H1-B visas.

Confucius claimed proudly that he transformed the field they describe. There is archaeological evidence for large settlements earlier, but one by one they die and their hands.

If you wanted to go to work with founders create a great idea as something you need to be actively curious.

The facts about Apple's early history are from an angel-round board, consisting of two founders and one of the biggest discoveries in any case, because you couldn't do the opposite: when we got to the World Bank, Doing Business in 2006, http://doingbusiness. Acquisitions fall into in the room, and the super-angels hate to match.

Is what we need to go to grad school you always see when restrictive laws are removed. It would be unfortunate.

People were more dependent on banks for capital for expansion.

What they forget is that the web and enables a new Lisp dialect called Arc that is not so much control, and the exercise of stock the VCs I encountered when we were working on what you have to be about 200 to send a million dollars out of the canonical could you build for them, if you get stock as if you'd invested at a 3 million cap, but they seem like a month might to an adult. But Goldin and Margo think market forces in the 1960s, leaving less room for startups that are or feel weak. Sometimes a competitor will deliberately affect more interest than they expected and they hope will be the fact by someone who doesn't understand what you're working on your thesis. Even in Confucius's time it filters down to you.

[kayr0ss]

Appointments Chapter 2: She’s a Little Abrasive

[LWA, Diakko, Small Town AU, Fluff and Slow Romance, Pining™ lol]

Chapter 1 & Table of Contents [Links] AO3

She would have really liked her first, new, friend to be here for the occasion, but Lotte had class and Akko could understand. Besides, they were going to have brunch at a cafe the following morning—and Lotte was bringing a friend!

She was definitely going to master biking today. Any minute now! She could feel it in her bones.

…at least, in the ache of her bones.

A few days prior, Lotte had dutifully brought Akko downtown where shops lined the streets and market stalls set up camp in the few open lots. It was a wonderful experience; they made a girls’ night out of it. By the end of the evening, Akko was the proud owner of a brand-new bike.

Never mind that she didn’t actually know how to ride it. Yet.

‘Yet’ was very important, because whenever Atsuko Kagari put her mind on something, she did every damn thing she could to get it done. She had a new bike, a lot of free time—I probably need a job soon—and nothing to lose. She popped her knuckles, tongue-in-cheek while she gripped the leather coverings of the handle bar. Like a sniper, the brunette surveyed her surroundings. The park was in a state of relative peace, apart from the grade school football team practicing at the center field. She was in the designated bike lane which encircled the field, and the weather was dry and overcast. It was three in the afternoon on a Thursday, only a few locals had come out for their afternoon runs, so she was going to have to maximize the time she had the lane all to herself.

She remembered being seven, sitting cross-legged in front of their TV while she watched a famous triathlete finish the Samhain Cup in record time. The woman said something about believing in your heart—Akko couldn’t remember the exact words—but it was enough to get her going. She pushed the right pedal down, and with excitement in her chest she felt the bike roll forward. When the momentum was enough to keep her upright, she grinned, bringing her left foot to its respective pedal, pushing down on it with renewed confidence because she was going fast enough to feel the wind against her skin!

She was biking!

And then she was screaming.

“Shit!” was an understatement—she completely missed a rock and was unceremoniously tossed off of her bike. She hissed, feeling a sharp, stinging pain at the knee, blinking through the mess of brown hair that had flown forward and covered her face. She pushed herself up on her palms and could hear the bike’s rear wheel still spinning on its axle. At least it wasn’t broken?

“That—”

Akko saw a strong hand thrust in front of her face.

“—was a complete embarrassment.”

“I noticed.” Akko groaned, clasping the hand. She mumbled a small ‘thank-you’ while she was pulled up—her knee was bleeding pretty badly.

“You need to have that cleaned,” the woman pointed out. “Then buy some knee pads. Or borrow some from the kids,” she pointed over her shoulder towards the football team.

Akko regarded her wound with a cringe. She bent downwards, trying to dust off the grime around it, but when she looked up to ask for her name, the lady had turned on her back and was walking towards the field. Akko shrugged, figuring she’d be hanging around the park often enough to see her again anyway.

But for now, she needed to see a doctor.

15:58

Or not. That’s going to have to wait. Skinning her knee wasn’t part of today’s schedule and she had Applied Physics by five-thirty. Soap and a bandage would do, and Akko cursed her luck while she walked her bike back to the apartment; she didn’t feel like sprinting across town again.

By five-fifteen, she was freshly showered and seated in class. Akko did a little dance because ‘small victories count!’

Applied Physics wasn’t as bad as it sounded. She thought it would be full of undergrads like Sociology was, but it seems this was the nightshift class—full of post-grads who needed units in science ‘for formality’s sake’ like her. There were only a few in attendance, and she had acquainted herself with a peculiar girl named ‘Sucy’. Akko had, in her usual fashion, declared them friends out of ‘Asian solidarity’, and honestly Sucy didn’t look like she cared so she took that as a yes.

—

It was a pleasant surprise when she discovered that the friend Lotte was bringing for brunch was Sucy from Physics.

“I can feel the beginnings of a solid friendship!” Akko grinned, starry-eyed while she looked between Lotte and Sucy.

“I thought I was through with this idiot last night,” Sucy drawled, to which Lotte only sighed.

“Sucy and I have known each other for a while,” Lotte supplied. “We’re roommates.”

“You guys live together?” Akko asked in wonder.

“Yeah,” Lotte smiled, “helps cut costs. Tuition is expensive, and I’m trying to finish my degree as quick as possible because I chose to study full-time.”

“I intern at the Chemistry department,” Sucy interjected.

Akko shot her new friend an expectant look, taking the opportunity to observe her appearance. She exuded an over-all ‘I honestly don’t give a fuck’ vibe, and her long, purple hair which mysteriously covered her eye added to the effect. It suited her.

“And?”

“That’s it,” Sucy punctuated. “I intern at the Chemistry department.”

Facts and interests were shared over a brunch of eggs and toast, and while it was mainly Akko and Lotte who did the talking, she eagerly learned more and more about Sucy Manbavaran and her talent in mixing things that either exploded, corroded any organic material it interacted with, or corroded the material before causing it to explode. Akko thought it was ‘really cool’ that she cultivated a mushroom colony underneath her bed, but apparently Lotte didn’t because ‘fungi’ and ‘potentially dangerous spores’.

The minutes ticked by and their drinks had gone cold. The cafe owner—a kind, soft spoken Russian woman—would occasionally join in; Akko learned that Lotte and Sucy were regulars and the owner seemed happy to welcome a new face to the neighborhood. Lotte had ordered and slice of cake (“They are to die for!”), and the group was sucked into a detailed report of Akko’s biking progress and subsequent accident.

“I can’t believe I let you buy a bike,” Lotte massaged her temples. “Let me see the wound?”

Akko pulled her skirt up, and Lotte winced.

“Akko!”

“I think I have something for that,” Sucy had fangs in her grin.

“Sucy—” Lotte hissed, “—no.”

Akko blinked, “but if it helps—”

“Nope!” Lotte set her palm on the table. “You’re going to see a doctor. It’s looks terrible! Why did you leave it untreated over night?”

“I… was late for class?”

-

-

When the door to her office swung open, Diana retracted her pen with a click, looking up from the patient file Barbara gave her with a practiced expression of professionalism. She would nod politely, greeting them a good morning before engaging in small ta—

Brown hair and… red eyes?

“Wait, you?”

Diana didn’t expect the reaction from herself, and apparently her very confused patient didn’t either. She stole a quick glance to the patient file.

Atsuko Kagari F | 24 | Blood type O+ | 161cm | 48kg

“Er—what?”

Her gaze flitted back towards the woman, and it dawned upon her that this was no way to behave herself at work. She cleared her throat and put a cool facade back on, internally scolding herself for the slip-up. “My apologies,” Diana stood to offer a handshake, “there was a woman at the crosswalk some days ago, I may have mistaken you for—”

“You’re the pretty blonde chick!”

Atsuko-Kagari-With-Red-Eyes-and-Blood-Type-O+ had a finger pointed towards Diana and a slack-jawed look of recognition.

“Excuse me?” Diana snapped.

Her patient visibly cringed. “Shit. Not going to repeat that—doesn’t mean I don’t mean it! It’s just my mouth spews out crap before I really think about it and—anyway—what I’m trying to say is I think I messed my knee up pretty bad.”

Diana crossed her arms, choosing not to react because this woman just made her cycle through three different emotions within fifteen seconds. The best defense was a statement of facts, “so you were the one who shoved me in the middle of the road.”

“Yeah,” the other woman grinned sheepishly, looking away while she scratched at the back of her head. “Sorry about that. Was late to class.”

“Interesting.” Diana raised an eyebrow, “and your knee?”

“Biking accident.”

She relented, choosing to let the circumstances of their first meeting slide in favor of the automaticity of a check-up. Barbara had taken care of the preliminaries—blood pressure, vital signs, and other pertinent information.

“Tell me what happened.”

She directed the brunette towards a nearby stool while she fetched a pair of rubber gloves and pulled the lamp closer. ‘Atsuko’ recounted yesterday’s events in a jumbled run-on sentence and Diana felt her exasperation grow because the brunette simply couldn’t stay still.

“Stop fidgeting.”

“But it tickles!”

To her frustration, Atsuko just kept squirming. Diana held the other woman’s knee steady with a gloved hand, brows knitting together in thought while she scrutinized the injury. The surrounding area was red and seemed a bit swollen. She gently put pressure around the abrasion—

“Ouch!”

“Tenderness and pain,” she mumbled. “It’s infected.” Early stages; no pus or liquid discharge.

“So what do I need to do?”

“First off—why did you let it get to this? You should have come in yesterday.”

“You aren’t the first to tell me,” Atsuko groaned, crossing her arms. “But I would have been late to class.”

“Again.”

“Would have been,” the brunette emphasized, shooting a challenging glare to her direction. “And I wasn’t, for the record.”

“Lovely. Will a pat on the back suffice?”

Atsuko frowned, her lip jutting out in a pout, “I don’t need your approval!”

“While this is true, I believe that running around town—constantly late for class—is no way for a college student in Luna Nova to behave.”

“I’m a graduate student,” the brunette huffed.

Diana raised an eyebrow. “Then even more so. You’re already at the professional level, Atsuko.”

“Akko.”

The physician tilted her head in inquiry.

“It’s my nickname.” ‘Akko’ rubbed at the sides of her head. “Calling me ‘Atsuko’ in that nagging voice of yours is reminding me of my mother and giving me headache.”

“Well, Atusko,” Diana said pointedly, “perhaps I should just include an aspirin in your prescription.”

She pulled out her pen in a sharp motion that signaled the end of their conversation and scribbled something onto a prescription pad. She tore off of the leaf of paper and held it out towards her patient, who had snatched it up and was now inspecting it with those big, curiously red eyes.

Those same red eyes which were now narrowed in thought. “I’m not even going to pretend to know what these are.”

Diana almost chuckled. Almost. “Fucidic acid—it’s a topical anti-bacterial. Apply it twice a day for a week after thorough washing, and then dress your wound according to the instructions I’ve written. If the wound begins to close and there’s still pain or swelling, you’ll have to come back and I might need to give you oral antibiotics.”

“Right,” her patient dutifully nodded.

“If there’s pus, or if it becomes watery you need to come back immediately. May I ask where you’re staying?”

“Why?”

The blonde rolled her eyes. “So I know which pharmacy to refer you to. The nearest is along Orion Street.”

“Oh—that’s on the way home!”

“Good. The attending pharmacist is a good friend—”

“Glad to know you actually have those,” she mumbled.

“—named Ms. England.” Diana punctuated, purposefully ignoring the jab.

“Her surname is seriously England?”

“Yes.”

It looked like she was trying her hardest not to snicker but— “we’re in England.”

It must have been her hundredth eyeroll, but Diana did it anyway.

“It’s like… if my surname was Japan,” she giggled.

“Anyway,” Diana interjected, “there will also be no biking until the abrasion heals”

“But—”

“No buts. The wound will open—you’ll just be susceptible to infection all over again.”

“Mou,” she pouted. It was rather disarming. “Fine.”

Diana heard the front door’s bell ring. Her two o’clock appointment was on the dot. Unlike ‘Akko’, she noted with a mixture of annoyance and… something.

“Well,” the brunette blurted out, spirits evidently dampened. “Thanks. I’ll just head out to the reception for my due.”

The blonde nodded, wordlessly allowing Atusko to collect her things.

“Atusko Kagari,” Diana muttered to herself once the woman in question was out of earshot. She leaned back into her leather office chair. “Akko.” What a peculiar woman. They were roughly the same age, with Diana being older by a little over a year, but there was a glaring difference in maturity. And an over-abundance in child-like glee. Which isn’t inherently a bad thing, she hummed. It was… rather refreshing. She deduced that her patient was likely new in town.

“You?!”

The sudden shouting jerked her up in her seat. She leaned forward to get a view through the opened office door and saw that new arrival’s usual scowl was a little deeper today. The lilac-haired woman had an accusatory finger pointed towards none other than Atsuko Kagari.

“You’re the crazy-ass woman who vaulted over my equipment a few days ago!”

“You were the weird-looking computer lady!” the brunette gasped. Then she squinted, rubbing at her chin in thought, “…though I swear I’ve seen you somewhere else before.”

“Did you just call me weird!?” the woman in glasses glowered.

“Holy shit,” Akko gaped.

“You two know each other?” Barbara, who was watching from behind the front desk, looked like she was about to burst a nerve from all the yelling.

“Aren’t you my Physics professor?!”

“If you attend the five-thirty on Thursdays, then yes.”

“How do you not recognize me?” Akko flailed her arms. “There were like, eight of us.”

“Because I don’t give a fuck,” the bespectacled woman grunted. “My job is to teach and give you tests, not hold hands and make friends.”

“But you’re supposed to be a mentor to look up to!” Akko whined, and Diana was amazed at how she didn’t seem to care that this woman was apparently her professor and that she already had two strikes against her before their second meeting in class.

“What are you?” the older woman scoffed. “In elementary school?”

“Why does everyone keep talking to me like a kid!” the brunette cried indignantly, slamming her payment onto the front desk without bothering with the receipt. She dramatically stomped out of the clinic, and the three other women could only watch in bewilderment.

“That girl is going to give me an aneurism,” Barbara blinked.

“Or a heart attack,” her latest patient agreed. The woman let herself into Diana’s office, lazily falling into the vacant chair with her arms crossed.

“Good afternoon, professor.” Diana picked up her stethoscope—this one was a pulmonary case. “Have you been considering your options for cardio exercise? Perhaps light jogging to build lung stamina?”

The woman shuddered, “can’t I just rely on my inhaler forever?”

Diana sighed, clicking at her pen before looking down to review the patient record. This time, it was a regular.

Dr. Croix Meridies F | 35 | Blood type AB- | 172cm | 57kg Instructor: Department of Engineering & Actuarial Sciences, LNU — Asthma & Misc. Pulmonary Complications

One difficult patient after another, she supposed.

-

Hey guys! I just need to clarify that I'm not a medical person so I really just tried to wing the technicalities of this! [Thank you Google and WebMD - but please don't self-medicate using Google or WebMD!!!!!!!!!!]

Thank you to everyone who commented on the first chapter! Your response to it really got me up and writing and smiling silly! Anyway I hope u enjoy ehehehe

@ tumblr ask people: I am so sorry for neglecting the ask requests pls 4give me I will get around to all them [like--6 or 7ish left?] sometime!

[honeylevesque-blog]

HEH ,, hey guys!! i decided to make an entirely different muse and ditched dahlia. yipes, i’m sorry if we had plots w / her .. things just weren’t working. but here’s my brand spankin new little wallflower, honey levesque! they’re a bit pretentious but ultimately very sweet nd shy shfksk .. OKAY. this is their STATS, nd i’ll put some more info / wanted connections under the cut!! :-)

extends themselves into academics HEAVILY. some people consider them pretentious, other’s see it as ambition. they just have a very persistent need for knowledge. it’s rare to find them outside of the library when they’re not listening intently to the lecturer in classes. though they are very persistent in their education, they do not have any consistency within their goals. they find it hard to pin themselves down to one thing.

they are a bit of a poet, a bit of a writer, a bit of an artist, a bit of a mathlete, a bit of a baker. they know a lot of things, but they don’t know enough to be a master at any of them. a bit of a jack of all trades ig?? they prefer creative mediums, but are highly intelligent in other areas. they want to be the best at all they do but they sometimes get a little too caught up!!!! they like studying with other people, and it’s one of the few things they find genuine comfort in. 

they have expensive tastes, but don’t have the money to do anything about it. they LOVE thrift shopping, and often find some beautiful things that others looked over. they may seem like they’re on the top of the food chain by the way they tend to present themselves, but their cold exterior isn’t purposeful. they’re just shy.

they hadn’t always been that way - but their life changed a lot after middle school. their entire world was thrown on it’s axis when a little high school party turned into a crime scene. nobody has ever been certain of the details, but the host and six other students turned up dead that night. honey KNOWS who hurt them, but was always too fearful to speak up. now their voice is quiet, and honey is constantly looking over their shoulder.

their paranoia has seeped into her college life now that tatiana’s turned up dead. still, they have far too much trust in others. naivety has only ever lead them astray, but their feelings are easy to manipulate. they are very emotional, and very empathetic!! just a ball of mush. an absolute mess.

gets a new crush every week but doesn’t talk to them EVER. will leave them notes, or poems from time to time in hopes of catching their attention but they know it’s fruitless when they leave no clues of their identity. one day they want to fall in love for real, but right now they are heavily focused on passing their classes and crushes are small and forgettable as time passes. 

their sister is a grad student with a background in biological sciences. their relationship isn’t much to write home about, but honey looks up to them. tatiana and honey’s sister dated for a short while before they had a falling out, and the entire time - honey honestly thought that tatiana’s jaws wound unhinge and they’d be swallowed whole. they never expected for the earth to swallow tatiana - always found her terrifying, and loathsome but ultimately respected her. they don’t blame themselves, but they do feel guilt for being a part in someone else’s twisted game. 

they play piano, and have written a few of their own songs. none of them are particularly good. 

they have a collection of old antique dolls hung up on a shelf in their room. they love them, but most people may consider them an unsettling addition to someone’s living space. 

they didn’t realize that they were gay until getting to college and experiencing everything first hand. there was some odd moments of realization, but ultimately honey’s glad for it. 

loves driving, was a mathlete, hosts a bookclub, hates getting their picture taken, has a fat cat named ginger snap, is an old soul, LOVES romance.

they take after their father and are a bit of a wizard in the kitchen, and they love giving their treats to other people. it’s a subtle joy, but a lot of people enjoy their desserts. 

they’ve been kissed a total of five times, but are otherwise a virgin. they’ve never had a completely successful relationship and they DO blame themselves for that. 

is a huge book geek.

when they first got to college, they tried to impress people and get into the party scene. has puked on a pair of designer boots because they downed way too much alcohol in one-go. it was an embarrassing moment. it wasn’t their last though. they’ve had a few moments where they felt pressured to join the fun and absolutely fell on their face in the process. 

would die for the people they care about HONESTLEA. one of the sweetest people alive if you manage to actually get to know them. first impressions don’t do honey any justice.

WANTED CONNECTIONS??

an ex-boyfriend - ONE guy that they were super into but realized quickly that their attraction just wasn’t there. was probably their first kiss, and helped them realize they were definitely not into dudes!!

ex-girlfriends? - short-lived relationships that they tried. they really wanted things to work out but they weren’t open enough and the relationship fell apart. is probably a little awkward about it, but is still friends with them!

close friends - people that they are fully themselves with?? probably creative souls. platonic cuddles, gives them lots of gifts. very soft!!! there could even be something more creeping beneath the surface but neither acknowledge it. or if a guy, is completely unrequited. 

study buddies / tutor - someone that is solely their friend through academia. they go to them for help with their homework or if they need to proofread their essay. little things like that!! probably a lot of time spent in the back of the library. their relationship is comfortable, but not extremely close. they talk about surface-level interests and are maybe book geeks together skfkl

a crush - honestly like? someone that honey is super into!! they probably seem pretty obvious with it, but they haven’t said anything that alludes to it. it’s a lot to do with their body language. could go along with any of the other connections tbh?? honey leaves them notes and poems about their admiration for them kdfgjk. maybe even someone that has a crush on honey?? i don’t know if anybody would, but they’re a very sweet person and have a whole lotta heart tbh

someone that they wanted to impress and went a little overboard trying to be somebody else. humilating moments, embarrassing crushes. all that good stuff.

people they don’t get along with. maybe a person that doesn’t care enough to break through to them and therefore thinks they’re snobbish and rude?? maybe someone that finds them to be weak / pathetic. i don’t know man, i’m down.

they fell in love with one of their sisters exes and kissed them. used to be super close, but is super not close with them anymore. makes for awkward situations constantly. probably a few years older than them. 

uhhh someone that goes thrifting with them, fellow poets, people that are maybe in a book club with them, ex-bullies, other exes of their sister .. u know ones they didn’t kiss, just friends!! sleepover buddies!! someone that tries to like push them out of their shell and make them explore the world .. rebellious types ya know? someone that drags them out to parties and teaches them about the fun college life tm. i’m really down for whatever!!!! someone that tried to get in their pants at a party, an old crush, someone from their childhood maybe?? 

[thecoroutfitters]

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[youswiminmywater]

new perspectives on loneliness

it’s important to try to stay away from your bed sometimes. i never used to be the type to spend the entire day locked away in my room, but the past few months have been exactly that. i even rearranged all of my furniture one day just to change things up, update and organize everything in a way that made more sense. pointed my bed towards the tv. put my clothes in the closet, in my bed drawers (which is astoundingly a habit i’m still keeping up!). organized, alphabetized, and filtered through all of the stuff on my bookshelf, made better use of the space in my room. there’s still some stuff to throw out. there’s still dust accumulating. but it’s a snail’s step, a healthy move inside of a swampy situation. i don’t want this room for much longer, or at least i don’t want to be trapped in it all the time, but i’m glad i fixed it.

the other day, i went down to the cafe to get a salad and try to read a little in public, which is generally my go-to outing for when i want to get out of my house. it’s important to get out of the house sometimes. i’ve been trying to slog through “the faerie queene,” which is an old renaissance epic poem about knights and chivalry and greek mythology splashed into a weird christianity-focused landscape. i’m reading it most because i can, because i know what words like “weet” used to mean, because i’m comfortable reading spenser’s intentionally bizarre spelling and letter-swaps. just for context, here’s an example:

Nathlesse the villen sped himselfe so well, Whether through swiftnesse of his speedy beast; Or knowledge of those woods, where he did dwell, That shortly he from daunger was releast, And out of sight escaped at the least; Yet not escaped from the dew reward Of his bad deeds, which dayly he increast, Ne ceased not, till him oppressed hard The heauy plague, that for such leachours is prepard.

and i’m also reading it because the stories are fun to retell in my own words, whenever i can find an ear to gab into! a lot of old literature is like that, surprising you with a fun story. so i took my massive old book with queen victoria on the cover, got my salad, and decided to sit nearby a couple that looked like they were on a date so that i could eavesdrop on them.

boy is it easy to judge strangers! from what i could tell, he was an older guy, maybe grad student age, clad in nouveau punk garb, the band shirt with sleeves rolled up to his armpits, the rolled up jean shorts, stompy boots, thick rimmed glasses, the side shave haircut that everyone seems to be sporting these days, tattoos up his arms and half way up his neck. he was talking very adamantly about his classes, particularly with a recognizable pretension about how much of an intensely emotional and intellectual endeavor it is to both READ and WRITE in the modern age. something or other about how his professors just Don’t Understand, how they’re Taking the Magic Out of It. he was very particular about the genres he liked to read, and very particular about explaining it to her with confidence, caution, and exactness. she, meanwhile, was at least a few years younger than him (in fact, i’m pretty sure she was an acquaintance of mine, knew her tangentially through people i knew in high school), and it seemed like she hadn’t been to at least a traditional college in several years. the last i remember, she worked at this kind of odd farm-fresh fast-food joint, where they make you wear blue bandannas instead of brand hats. she looked like she went to art school maybe, studied photography. she was very supportive of his opinions on reading books, or whatever, and tried her best to come up with things to share back on the subject, but it was clear she wasn’t really That Into reading. she ran with the crowd that was used to doing, parties and skateboarding and concerts, not sitting at home over a notebook.

it just seemed like the kind of pairing that didn’t have much in common, but they were still fresh and enthusiastic and willing to blow past differences and have some fun for a while. in any case, i was in true goblin form, hunched over my salad, building stories for each of them in my head, telling myself they were communicating poorly and failing to connect with each other, telling myself they’ll be over and done within a few months, maybe more if the circumstances call for it. a stupid grin slapped across my brain while i half-read about some sinful queen named “lucifera,” who embodied Vanity itself in every way, even carrying around a hand mirror just to admire herself.

this is the cafe i used to work at, and so i knew a lot of the patrons and just about all of the employees; i spotted one person, the “new girl,” also enjoying a salad off duty a few tables away from me. she had been hired shortly after i left, though the two of us had developed a little bit of camaraderie between my frequent visits. i called her bree-bree, she called me bri-bri, it was something cute and fun  between us. one of the few fond connections i have with the world outside my bedroom. 

i made my way to the door, pretended to notice her, and sat down in the seat across from her, imposing in probably a very trumpian way, though she didn’t seem to mind, wasn’t nose deep in a book like i pretended to be. we got to immediately gossiping about the couple i was just eavesdropping on, my favorite hobby, talking about dating and relationships from a safe and frankly lofty position, dragging someone into my holier-than-thou mindscape to bond with them. it’s the magic of people-watching, really, and sharing that experience with someone makes you feel so much less like a wretched lonely creep. she nodded sagely when i talked about talking but not communicating, first dates in the cafe.

she told me a story about how she was on a first date with a guy and kept asking him questions expecting him to toss the ball back into her court, but at the end of his several monologues, the only thing he was able to bring back to her was “so, any more questions for me?” i told her he was probably trying very hard to impress her, and maybe felt interrogated. like it was his time to make a splash and show her how good and smart of a boy he was! and probably terrified out of his mind. you can’t chalk everything up to male vanity. she shrugged a maybe-probably. i declined to tell her a story about some of my first dates, not wishing to mirror the guy she just described to me.

i learned that she was dating one of the other guys that worked at the cafe, who was working there that day, though the whole thing was a sort of semi-hush. she said they dated but she didn’t really talk about it. she just gazed at him over my shoulder, dreamy-eyed. how do you get a girl to look at you that way? i admired it, appreciated it. i turned around and announced to the guy “i didn’t know you two were dating!” made him blush, show him that i was Aware and not threatening anything by having an intimate salad talk with his girl right in front of him. she told me she was moving to Cleveland in two weeks, and was bad with long-distance. she didn’t seem that bothered by it, though i still sympathized, knowing by now how those relationships end, the early 20s flings that always get bashed backwards by college schedules and other necessity. 

her mentioning it gave me an opportunity to talk about vivien, for a moment. i told her i was a long-distance veteran. i forcibly showed off pictures of vivien, of the two of us together, because i was dying to show at least one person, even someone who could be barely considered a friend. i don’t know why i wanted to; maybe another opportunity to say “just so we’re clear, i’m not trying to come onto you, here’s a girl i already like!” or maybe it was a way to legitimize a connection in my life that seems to slip away more and more every day.

i offered to give her a ride, probably a minor misstep. she said she preferred walking, good exercise. i agreed, told her i wanted to ride my bike more often too. she insisted i make some desserts for her and the cafe before she had to leave, and i promised i would. left.

i had something of a panic attack that night. i don’t like calling it that, because the feeling wasn’t...well, maybe i’m just unfamiliar with panic. it was intangible. i was feeling manic, i could hear myself breathing, i wanted to get out of the house again (this was now around 11pm or so). i was feeling trapped, claustrophobic, lonely, forgotten. i went to a 24/7 gyro place to tap my foot, pick up dinner for me and my mom. wrote an obscure facebook status. sent a few oblique text messages. wanting attention but not wanting to attract it. wanting someone to care about me and show concern but feeling selfish and childish by offering out my hands.

i had a phone conversation with a friend of mine just before. my best friend, or at least someone i used to be really close with, now feeling more and more like a stranger, more like a burden, more like i destroyed something that was taking a painstakingly long time to fully implode. i was becoming less and less to her, and it showed in our conversation, and showed even more when she was telling me about other friends she was starting to hang out with more, or when she was having a conversation with her boyfriend that was so much more lively than the one she was having with me. it used to be the other way around. i sat on the phone and let my heart break, realized i was becoming alone again, and ended up at this gyro place an hour later.

it’s not that i’m particularly going to miss the life i’ve been living the past few years; i really hate feeling stuck, even if i had some great company while doing so, and shared a lot of myself with someone who has been very important to me. but trying to move on has blasted away a lot of stuff i took for granted, or didn’t realize i depended on so heavily. so i guess i had a panic attack, on both ends. i felt empty and heartbroken looking back on my past friendship; i felt worried and alone looking forward. i’m still not sure if i’m moving into anything real or not. 

maybe i’m once again too much in my own head, but sometimes i get the feeling vivien is already done with me. we don’t really have any plans when it comes to moving closer to each other; i’m not even sure what she wants for her own life sometimes. we’ve both been through our own gauntlets, and we know long-distance isn’t really something we have the energy for anymore. all i know is that we happen to have landed in the same spot, together, right now. but i don’t know if we’re both going to leave this place together, or if we’re going to be facing the same direction when we do. we’re certainly not going to stay here for much longer. i only hope she isn’t already through with me. sometimes i feel like a needy puppy, begging for her attention, putting effort into something that i maybe shouldn’t be. i truly do adore her, and we resemble each other so much; we sometimes joke about being each other’s “twin flame,” soulmates. it still feels that way. but soulmates aren’t always lovers.

i’m just preparing myself for the worst. i don’t want it to be over yet.

today i listened to an “etiquette podcast” on the way home. it’s really hardly about etiquette most of the time; it’s just this married couple that started a podcast together, likely because the wife felt left out of her husband’s podcasting career and wanted an excuse to hang out with him. they pick random topics, the wife goes into a brief “history” of the thing, and then they talk about “the best way to blank,” “when is the right time to blank.” how do i ask for a raise without coming off as bossy? what’s the best way to end a phone call? what’s the proper thing to say when i fart on the train? 

this week’s episode was about naps. the wife went into a personal yarn about how she had postpartum depression and took frequent naps that just felt Very Bad. like gigantic naps that felt too good, wasted the whole day. the husband likened it to eating ice cream when you’re starving. just the wrong medicine for the occasion. 

when i got home, i took a 6-hour nap. i was still riding the wave of sadness from the day before, though without the manic energy. just the overwhelming feeling of aloneness, having no one to share anything with anymore. being alone really makes a lot of things feel pointless, when you’re in the headspace of, i want to do things so i have something to share with people. suddenly reading feels stupid. endeavors to work out feel pointless. long naps are a brief fast-forward through something that feels like it ought to blow away at some point. and it really doesn’t, at least, not in the way you expect it to.

i woke up and checked my e-mails, my school e-mail in particular, to remind myself that i was still a student and had responsibilities beyond trying to find love and companionship to enrich my future (snort!). cracked open my textbook, a chapter about plate presentation, and got quite lost flipping between dessert possibilities. really inspiring stuff, even though the book is a little outdated:

i’m sure this is somewhat a product of my mood...but looking at these foods made me really want to dive into my work as a pastry chef. become good at something, make all these sauces and coulis and collect a bunch of chocolate shavings and such and try out some plate designs for myself, likely in very bizarre, personal ways. “here you go mom, i made dessert, and i bought a special plate to put it on!” i mean, how else is a boy to practice? it’s a relief seeing stuff like this, because the class i’m taking right now makes me believe cake decorating is the alpha and the omega of pastry learning. and i just hate cake decorating! my boss told me that some people are decorators and some people are producers, and that i’m a producer. i feel good about that role. it’s encouraging.

i’ve written pretty freely and frequently about this belief i have, that people have a built in “fail-safe” system that keeps them from tolerating a bad feeling for too long. some motivation inside of them that keeps them from stewing in depression until they disintegrate. in the past, i’ve taken opportunities like this one i’m in to go on impulsive bike rides, usually in the dead of the night. i felt the same impulse washing over me today; however, i knew that my bike tires were flat and needed a pump. this is essentially the extent of my bike-repair expertise, so if they didn’t stay inflated, i was probably done for without a real concentrated effort to fix the damn thing.

i went outside to our backyard shed to try and find the bicycle pump. no luck. and our backyard was starting to look and feel overgrown, plants poking through fences and coming up to the windows. my mom says she likes the overgrown because it grants privacy, but i hated it in that moment. i wanted to clear everything away. in lieu of finding my bike pump, i grabbed some forgotten rusty shears instead, and just started going to town on these masses of towering plants. snipping bit by bit, shoving them into mossy old yard bags, grabbing thorns and twigs barehanded in my sleepwear and clogs. just fed up, burying my feelings in the impulse.

i started to imagine, maybe this is what i need to do from now on. just focus on cleaning the house, yard work. eventually move on to working out, getting stronger arms, losing weight, eating healthier. if i’m going to be a shut-in for the rest of my life, maybe this is the secret to accepting it. just obsessing over some kind of work and never thinking about loneliness ever again, except maybe by accident late at night, in moments of stillness. it made me feel kind of like boo radley. it was a familiar place, like one that i had recognized in writers and poets, or any other person that was considered isolated, in solitude. like a retired old dad, feverishly picking up hobbies to keep himself busy. emily dickinson with her botany and gardening (did you know she had a 66-page leather-bound book of pressed plants? it’s called an herbarium). or like a robert frost type, hauling wood to a cabin, reveling in the simplicity of it. after all, it’s easier to tear weeds out of the ground than it is to make friends. maybe it’s the kind of life i need to embrace, constantly becoming better and healthier, more useful, stronger, but for nobody. building a nice home and a nice life and only sharing it with someone if i get really lucky. 

i didn’t really hang out with my dad much after my parents were divorced, and now that i’m older, and i’m realizing how badly i wanted someone to teach me how to be a guy. all the things i remember doing with him when i was younger, fishing, flying kites, swimming, are distant memories. i’m rusty. i’m gonna take my kids to do these things with nostalgia and fumble at it, because it fell out of my life a long time ago. i feel like being outside again, getting bug bites, tearing up the yard and putting it back together again...it’s a way of being a dad to myself. or i feel like my dad was supposed to teach me this stuff, like it’s a old secret, “now son, when you grow up and your life isn’t what you wanted it to be, just build a birdhouse. it’s the best remedy for depression!” 

or maybe it was just a manic episode, me out there chopping away at the bushes. a cathartic release that’ll sink back into its deep slumber again come tomorrow. it was a shift in perspective, another way of making loneliness OK, a different kind of ocean to drown in. i wouldn’t mind if it stuck around. 

i know i really don’t deserve much, i’m not exactly a very good person. but if i can find a way to turn all these feelings back in on themselves, and just focus on something...manual and productive, i think it’s a life i’d take. just needs some motivation.

[lligkv]

In a scene early in Susan Choi's novel My Education,* two grad students are talking about a protest against an elderly male professor for the racism in his latest book.

"They were chanting 'Joseph Conrad, Joseph Conrad!' I evoked, splashing beer as I mimed a hand waving a sign. 'Because, you know, of Conrad's Colonialist Agenda. So we're going to have an emergency meeting to decide if we should boycott his class, or stay and try to subvert it somehow from within."

"Can I ask a really idiotic question?" Dutra said, in a tone that suggested his question would reveal that all idiocy lay elsewhere. "With these people, is that name, Joseph Conrad, supposed to be an insult?"

"Well, yes!--obviously... I don't think they're talking about his writing so much as his politics. And the way his discourse perpetuates the status quo. The inequities in power between whites, who control the discourse, and nonwhites, who are controlled by it--"

"Who cares about his politics?" said Dutra, swinging out of the hammock... "Do you like his books or don't you?"

"Whose?"

"Joseph Conrad's."

Here was a question I hadn't expected. "I've only read Heart of Darkness but...I liked it," I acceded at last...

"Do you like the other guy's books?"

"Whose? My professor's?"

"Exactly."

"I've never read them." Strike three.

Dutra burst out hysterically laughing. "No wonder you're confused!" he exclaimed, in the exaggeratedly bemused, tenderly condescending manner I'd already learned was his method of shifting the mood... "You don't have any empirical evidence..."

It reminded me of something I'd read about a recent controversy in the Romance Writers of America over the novel At Love's Command. accused of glorifying a protagonist who participated in the massacre of Sioux people at Wounded Knee. Specifically, comments by the president of PEN America, Suzanne Nossel, about proportionality: "When the accountability is driven by a firestorm on social media, the notion of proportionality goes out the window because nothing short of a complete repudiation is going to satisfy an audience from afar that's really not immersed in the facts and can't really assess motives. It can mean a default to the most draconian outcome."

The facts of a situation and the motives of an artist being criticized are key ways to distinguish what harm may have been done and what restitution may be necessary. They're not the sum total of the case--but they do sometimes fall by the wayside in these sorts of controversies, at least in the way they're most often covered by outlets like the New York Times. The primary focus is so often trained on the other relevant aspect of these cases, which is the harm that can be done by representations of atrocity and those who are allied with atrocity--which so often isn't quantified as clearly as it could be. (In the case of At Love's Command, for instance, the harm that could be said to have been done is: 1) the book attempts to empathize with someone who participated in a racist atrocity, and 2) it does this in a cultural context in which authors of color are systemically disadvantaged--not given as many opportunities to publish or considered in equal proportion to White peers as having the merit granted their White peers--with representation for their stories reduced as a result, so 3) it should not be celebrated; it's taking an award that could have gone to an author of color, and perhaps should have, given the fact that the award it received was named for Vivian Stephens, a Black woman who cofounded the Romance Writers of America.) Add to this virality--how easy it is to see these conflicts as they emerge and weigh in--and particular facts of a situation and evaluations of potential motives of the participants become even more distant...

I've often thought of the controversies around representation in, say, romance or young adult literature as live looks at a cultural pendulum as it swings--which is something we ought to be patient with. A landscape of what we're willing to endorse and permit is changing, in tectonic ways. We ought to give the new earth some time to settle before we begin to walk it. And many of the onlookers who deride "cancel culture" don't seem to have the patience to understand in good faith why the people who are upset at a book like At Love's Command receiving awards or honors are reacting this way. But the arguable over-the-topness that the complaints can take on when the nature of the harm that's alleged isn't spelled out--and the facts of a situation aren't widely known by all who amplify the complaint, and the motives of an artist aren't always done justice in the complaint--isn't any more helpful... To represent the interiority of a person who commits an atrocity isn't to endorse what that person does; a character's actions or opinions aren't an author's: these are truisms basic to the creation and appreciation of art. And the seeming refusal to acknowledge them in cases like the At Love's Command--so that we can focus on the practical argument about representation and artistic honors and who's getting them that, to my mind, has the most merit--gives the hostile and the ignorant all the ammunition they need to shoot all such complaints down, as "hysteria," before they've even had any impact.

In the meantime, I appreciate the measured response of the author of At Love's Command, Karen Witemeyer, who "said in an email that she did not agree with the group’s decision to rescind the award but said, 'I understand why they felt compelled to take such action, and I harbor no resentment toward them.'" The statement's a bit crisp, and you could read some passive aggression in it. But taking it charitably, Witemeyer seems to grasp what so often falls by the wayside for people injured by accusations they've caused harm, which they cannot understand or bring themselves to agree with: there is a gap between the artist's intention and the art's effect; no artist can be in perfect control of the ways their work will be received, and no artist is immune from the social spirit of the times in which they're producing their work. Sometimes you've just got to accept what happens to that work. All the paratextual stuff--how it's received, how you're thought of as a result--is secondary to it, and much of it is beyond your control.

This is all pretty "basic." But the way these conversations happen online, it's hard to approach anything resembling a first principle. Every so often I want to sit down and figure out something that might interrupt the endless cycle of this same conflict bubbling up and fizzing out before we move to its next instantiation.

A little bit of patience is called for, from everyone involved, and a little bit of grace. And an expansion of the landscape of literature, where outcry over a book like At Love's Command seems to me to encode a belief that this landscape is zero sum--that any depiction of a participant in a racist system will take away literary territory that ought to belong to the victims of that system. Those who participate in atrocious systems, even gleefully, are also part of the human fabric, and it's not always glorifying them to depict their consciousnesses at work, or to celebrate such a depiction for what it reveals about our collective condition. What's more, how much does an award matter anyway? Granted awards say something about what the culture values--but they're snapshots of the values of a moment; for every celebrated text that stays in a "canon," there are tens or more that are discarded... And there are other ways to make a case for literary value than protesting a particular moment it isn't given. Just find more ways to talk about the books you love. As someone who works in publishing, I can say publishers are listening. (Though, you know, grain of salt here: publishing's desires to capitalize on trends are (obviously) cynical; if you want to be taken up by that establishment, you'll likely find it's not what you wanted it to be.) And beyond what publishers or literary establishments do or don't do, the love you have for a book in its moment is really all you've got. No future's guaranteed for any text.

I also think, there has to be some better way of adjudicating this than "give an award" -> "experience outcry by constituents" -> "rescind the honor given." The mechanics of popularity or brand management are at work there, rather than an organization's sincere engagement with the complaint being made, the elaboration of a principled stance for its response and the taking of action according to that stance, or the desire for true resolution or restitution on either side.

*It's somewhat ironic that I'm using My Education as my decorative lead-in for this little post about ethics in artistic representation. The stories of both the male protagonists in that novel--including Dutra--involve unproven allegations of sexual harassment, in a way that probably wouldn't fly in a novel published today as opposed to 2013. I'll admit I was expecting Choi to do more with the accusations than treat them, essentially, as ways to give those characters a bit of spice, a frisson of danger. And a barrier to loving them that only a woman like her protagonist, Regina, is brave enough to surmount.

[marwadiuniversity]

Jobs That You Can Pursue with a Marketing Degree

Marketing grads have their doorways open to limitless job opportunities to build a promising career. Some of the best marketing jobs are social media specialist, market research analyst, brand manager, marketing assistant and PR representative. Get to know about these jobs in detail, right here. 

Marketing proffers grads with exciting job opportunities in the domain. If you are exploring a career that empowers you to work creatively, is interesting, and gives professional gains as well, then here's a piece of advice for you - go for marketing!

Marketing is one such widespread field that gets the credit of creating new careers more than almost any other field. Marketing jobs that were not in existence some years ago are a hot market now. 

Think of social media one did not need a dedicated employee to manage their social media accounts a decade ago, but that's no longer the case at present!

A plethora of job opportunities are open to marketing grads. From public relation, market research to social media, one can choose a path that interests them the most. The marketing field brings exceptional career opportunities to the table, but the mystery is, which marketing job role you find yourself working in? 

Let's explore some best job possibilities to help you find out the perfect one for you! 

Brand/Product Manager

Before ending up with the role of brand manager, aspirants begin their careers working as market research analysts or marketing assistants. It's a brand manager's responsibility to make sure that the audience identifies the brand and hold a positive perception of the brand. They have to carry out market research to observe results and project future trends. 

Brand managers will require to design and manage the strategies of the marketing campaign and check how effective the campaign has been. If you are persuasive, possess presentation and analytical skills, then this role is the most ideal. 

 Public Relations Representative

Public relation industry focuses on helping the client build and sustain a good relationship with the public. As a public relation representative, you need to understand the audience and decide the type of communication required to influence the whole demographic.  

PR entirely depends upon written journalism and media initiatives to build a good brand perception in the public eyes. The skills preferred for a PR representative are effectual written skills, public speaking, event skills to organize publicity events or conferences and friendly nature to build rapports. 

Marketing Research Analyst

To prosper in the market and deliver to changing consumer expectations from time to time, one needs insights. That's the reason market research analysts are the most sought-after professionals as they observe results and predict trends for the future. Good research abilities and analytical skills are valued for this role. 

Market research analyst plan and conduct research on their new products/services, modified ones, advertising themes etc., by using questionnaires or analytic tools. To collect, organize and interpret data, analysts use software and statistical tools and then present their findings. 

Social Media Specialist

Well, I don't even have to state it, but yes, social media is the modern sweet spot for every brand. The social media platforms like Facebook, Instagram, YouTube and LinkedIn help brands build connections with their audience through interactive and engaging campaigns. 

Social media specialists are required to design interactive and meaningful campaigns. They know in and out about the platform and are conscious of which trends they must follow. They also collect data to discover the effect of efforts and collect information on users’ demographics and preferences. 

Marketing Assistants

You can get the idea of real marketing by operating as a marketing assistant. Marketing professionals recruit graduates as assistants to support them in routine tasks and events. Marketing aspirants with organizational abilities, writing and editing skills are favourable for this role.

As a marketing assistant, you'll witness the marketing system of the corporate. With that, you'll decipher ways in which you will be able to contribute to up the process. Plus, after gaining a good amount of experience in this role, you can look for more leading roles like brand managers. 

So, these were some of the best job opportunities you can successfully land with a marketing degree. However, you have to make sure that the institute you study marketing from is the best and most reliable. 

Earn an MBA in Marketing Degree from the recent best; a NAAC A+ certified Marwadi University. You can work in any of the marketing job roles you fancy after completing an MBA in marketing. 

At MU, they educate students using a hands-on learning approach and make them industry-ready. Plus, you get excellent placement opportunities from the university. MU aspires to create successful future marketers through its improved education. 

Get ready to live an exciting career in the realm of marketing! 

[Source: Medium]