#but I was thinking so much about what his origin would be

[pathologicalreid]

twenty questions | s.r.

in which spencer has all of the answers for stoned!reader's questions

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: drug consumption in the form of edibles! they're emily's (canon compliant), snot, pavlov word count: 504 a/n: we are going to pretend this isn't a request from last summer and that this isn't something i originally wrote for margotober. i was peer pressured into posting this i want that immortalized.

“Exactly how much did you have?” Spencer asked, placing his hands on your shoulders when you started to sway.

You frowned at him, “Two Cheetos worth,” you answer him honestly.

Peering up at you, Spencer studied your expression curiously, “Do you know the milligram amount of cannabinoids in a Cheeto?”

Shaking your head dramatically, you leaned back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, “Nope, they were Emily’s,” you told him honestly, recalling the fact that JJ had been the one to drop you off at home.

Spencer muttered something about not being surprised, sitting down next to you on the couch, “Why does Emily have edibles in the form of Cheetos?”

“Now that is a question for the masses! I haven’t the slightest idea,” you answered, carefully picking at the skin around your nails before leaning over until your head was resting in his lap. “Hi, Spence,” you whispered, looking up at him.

He smiled down at you, “Hi, pretty girl. How are you feeling?”

You sighed in his lap, “I’m high.” In your defense, you didn’t know what the Cheetos were until you had already eaten them. “Why is everything funnier when we’re tired?” You asked, leaning into his touch when he started smoothing your hair back with his fingertips.

“When you’re tired, your body is going through a state of stress. Your body is fighting the onset of sleep by changing the usual mix of adrenaline, endorphins, epinephrine, serotonin, and dopamine in the body and brain,” he continued his ministrations, gently keeping your hair out of your face. “Endorphins are the particular culprit when you feel slap happy.”

Squinting up at him, you nodded in response, “Right, endorphins.” You paused for a moment, “How are boogers made?”

He faltered for a moment, clearly unable to see how you got from point A to point B. “The lining in your nose has the mucous membrane. That’s what makes mucus, or snot. When air hits the mucus and starts to dry out, it becomes a booger.”

You shifted on the couch, “I’m so glad you know everything, it makes my life so much easier.”

“I definitely don’t know everything,” he laughed softly, tapping the tip of your nose with his index finger, “Come on, give me a question that I wouldn’t know.”

Groaning, you pursed your lips, “If someone ate a ton of popcorn kernels before they died, would the kernels pop in the cremation chamber?”

“No,” he answered, laughing at your attempt, “Cremation chambers reach up to 1800 degrees Fahrenheit. The kernels would turn to ash before they've had the chance to pop.”

You furrowed your brows, “Bummer,” you responded. “Hey,” you tried again, “Do you think Pavlov thought about feeding his dogs every time he heard a bell ring?”

A bright smile bloomed on your boyfriend’s face, “You know what, I’m not sure. I think it’s a definite possibility.”

Proud of yourself, you settle your head back into his lap, refocusing your attention on your fingers, “Cool,” you muttered.

[raccoon-robyn]

I think that the best villains are ones who you can see where they're coming from. Not in a morally dubious way, but in a way that says "oh. This is how you got to be so incredibly fucked up."

In my mind, the best version of this? Is bnha Tomura Shigaraki. But you have to ignore the ending of the manga

Tomura starts out as a kid who was abused heavily by his dad, and his only respite is his dog. He loves his dog so much, and when his quirk comes in, it decays his dog into ash. And then it decays his entire family, until there is nothing left except for a few hands.

Tomura then is left out on the street, and watches everyone pass him by, cause "surely a hero would save him!"

A hero never comes.

Instead, it's a villain of pure evil.

And he twists tomura into a weapon for All For One's use. He takes away tomuras original name (tenko shimura) and makes it so that tomuras families hands are placed all over his "villain costume". Its a clever bit of morbid symbolism, but it's horrific.

All for one only teaches tomura how to hate, and gives him a butler/caregiver that is a husk of a person who has been programmed to obey tomuras every whim, and take care of him. And I mean every single word of that quite literally.

Tomura has been fashioned into a bazooka at this point. He hates heroes and wants to tear society down, and he will kill anyone who gets in his way.

The only time that he starts to think of how he could do something else is when he gets his band of villain friends, and seems to come to care about them.

Tomura then decides that the best way to get rid of society is to reform it, make it better, and ensure that his friends won't ever be harmed, and that no one is harmed like they were. Of course, he would certainly kill people along the way, after all, revolutions rarely succeed without blood being spilt on the pavement.

Tomura is undeniably evil. He kills and tortures and maims. His first introduction to the series is with him bringing an army of villains to a school and getting them to try and kill a bunch of 14-15 year olds, while him and his butler go after the "best hero in japan" with a super weapon.

However, due to his nuance? You can see where he's coming from, and why he thinks this way.

That's what makes him such an effective character

@nightlilly0110

some of you think ‘nuanced’ only means ‘morally grey’ and I’m here to tell you that actually straight up good characters can still be nuanced and unapologetically evil characters can still be nuanced. the character doesn’t have to be an anti hero or morally dubious to have depth. they don’t even have to feel sorry about their crimes to have depth.

[l1tw1ck]

Till Debt Do You Part

Bottom!FTM Ajax x Top!FTM!Harbinger Reader

+ FTM voyeur Pantalone

🌊 Word Count: 1,709 🌊

Ajax pays off his debt to Pantalone by giving you his body

AFAB Language Used | Reader (He/Him) has bottom + top surgery

CW: Non-Con/Coercion, Size Difference, Voyeurism, Virginity Loss, Oral Sex, Cum Swallowing, Masochism, Asphyxiation, Belly Bulge, Creampie

Pantalone purposefully omitted the fact that Ajax will have to pay Pantalone in return for the money he borrows from him. He's so naïve that he didn't even think to ask. Now, Ajax has finally racked up enough debt to allow Pantalone's repayment plan to go into effect.

The poor harbinger steps into Pantalone's room, completely unaware of what's about to happen.

"Tartaglia, you haven't been paying me back lately." Pantalone says, leaning against his desk. "Do you know how much you owe?"

"Pay you back? You- you didn't say I had to.."

"Is it not a given that you must return what you borrow from someone?" Pantalone tilts his head.

"I'm sorry...I didn't know."

Pantalone chuckles and brushes the hair out of Ajax’s face. "It's okay, you can pay it back with your body."

"My body? Like fighting?" Ajax perks up, happy to hear that he might be fighting even more.

"No, I mean intercourse." Pantalone smirks.

Ajax frowns. "But I've never...Is this my only option?"

Pantalone wants nothing more than to see Ajax become ruined.

"Yes."

"..Fine." He sighs. "Are you going to have me do it with the soldiers..?"

"Of course not, you're too precious. And what would I gain from that? My trusty colleague will be the one to have you." Pantalone smiles. "I owe [Name] a great debt, funnily enough.” He originally wanted to use Ajax himself but once you came back to Snezhnaya and met him, you got Pantalone to pay off the debt he owes you by giving you Ajax’s body.

Tartaglia should feel relieved but he doesn't. You're scary, and by his standards that really means something, and around the same size as Pierro and Capitano. For you to be his first time…

"[Name] bought you something special." Pantalone says, turning around to open his desk drawer. He takes out a human sized collar. "Isn't it cute? It suits you." He walks behind Ajax and puts the collar on for him. It feels strangely intimate.

"I…I guess..” He touches the name tag. It’s fitting, everyone calls him the loyal but rabid dog of Snezhnaya.

Pantalone places his hands on Ajax’s shoulders and leans into his ear. “He’s waiting for you in his room. Make sure to be a good boy.”

Pantalone enters the room with Ajax in front of him him. He looks like a cold puppy. You chuckle. “I was right. The collar does look good on you.” You walk towards him. “We haven't had many opportunities to interact, have we?” You rub his cheek with your thumb.

“N- no, sir..”

“He's a virgin, you know.” Pantalone smiles.

“Is that so?” You turn around and sit down on your bed. “You wouldn't mind helping him learn the ropes, would you?” You begin freeing your cock.

“It’d be my pleasure.” Pantalone makes Ajax walk towards you. “C’mon, kneel.” He kneels in between your legs, Pantalone kneeling next to him. He guides Ajax’s hand to your length. He’s in shock by your size. He glances at your chest as you remove your shirt, then at your arm. Custom made. It definitely suits your build, despite its outrageous size.

“Now, lick it.”

Ajax frowns and nervously darts his tongue out, licking your length. It doesn't feel or taste as bad as he thought. He glances up at you for a moment before looking back at your cock.

"Try to put it in your mouth." Pantalone gently touches Ajax’s body.

Tartaglia gulps and opens his mouth, trying to take it all in at once. It reminds you and Pantalone of a certain pink video game character. He gags when your dick hits the back of his throat.

"Just start with the tip, puppy." You chuckle softly. He gets more red and does as he says, wrapping his lips around the head of your cock.

"Pretend it's a...popsicle." Pantalone brushes Ajax’s hair from his face. He starts bobbing his head up and down while looking at Pantalone for approval.

"This is how you eat popsicles?" You groan in pleasure, gently wrapping your hand around the back of Ajax’s head. "How cute." You run your hands through his ginger hair, admiring his charm.

“Isn’t he?” Pantalone carefully snips off Ajax’s shirt. “Don't worry, you won't have to pay me back for your clothes.” He says, knowing exactly what the ginger is thinking. He starts to grope the rookie’s breasts with his elegant fingers. “You're surprisingly soft.” He hums.

He’s extremely embarrassed but he keeps going. Once he starts something, he's determined to see it through. Even if it's something like this.

“You're making me impatient with those words, Pantalone.”

Pantalone giggles softly as he unbuttons the ginger’s pants, then reaches over to slide his hand inside. “Every meal deserves to be savored.” Ajax’s t-dick gets a cold hug from Pantalone’s slender fingers.

Ajax moans and stops.

Pantalone uses his other hand to spank Ajax. “Nobody told you to stop, sweetheart.”

Ajax does his best to keep going despite how sensitive his body is. “Mmh!” His eyelashes flutter beautifully.

“There you go.” Pantalone purrs, sliding his digits into the ginger’s entrance. “Good boy, all nice and wet for your master.”

Ajax’s ears redden. He looks up at you and the redness travels to his cheeks, a shudder down his spine from how turned on you look. You look, and feel, so aroused and the fact that it's his fault is causing so much internal conflict. It's not bad if he likes this, right? You want him to feel good too, don't you? He adjusts his pace, filled with motivation to please you.

Your groans of pleasure are starting to become music to his freckled ears. You grab a fistful of his hair and keep him still. Ajax’s confusion disappears once he feels your seed filling his mouth. He closes his eyes and swallows it all up. As your hand drags him back, his tongue gives your tip one final lick, a string of cum dripping onto his chest.

“Is that it?” He asks.

“Of course not. Do you know how much you owe?” Pantalone chuckles and helps Ajax stand up. “You’ll be doing this for a very long time, rookie.”

“That's right.” You wrap your arms around Ajax’s torso and pull him onto your lap. “A couple years at least.” Your mouth latches onto one of his nipples.

Ajax throws his head back and moans. A couple years of this sounds like a good deal. Your hands travel around his body, feeling up every inch of him, before landing on his ass. You gently grope him.

“You like that, sweetheart?” Pantalone asks, groping the ginger’s unattended breast. Ajax nods. “Say it.”

“I like– I like it~” He shivers as your cock comes back to life and happily leaks pre cum onto his stomach. You pull away, now he can really see your cock again. He stares at it with hearts in his eyes.

“See that, rookie? That's how deep he’ll be inside you.” Pantalone makes a line with his finger over the tip of your cock. “He's gonna fill you up, right to the brim.”

Ajax moans. You get up, holding him up as you do, and lay him down on the bed. You remove the rest of his clothing as Pantalone sits next to him on the bed.

The banker gently runs his fingers through Ajax’s hair, comforting him as you take his virginity.

“Mm-” He grips the bedsheets. Pantalone licks his lips, watching a bulge appear in Ajax’s stomach. Ajax slightly arches his back. “Big–”

“It hurts?” Pantalone asks. It's obvious from his tone of voice that it turns him on rather than worries him. “Don't worry, rookie..” He kisses Ajax’s forehead, his hand trailing down to grope his tits.

Ajax moans.

“I think he likes that it hurts, Regrator.” You notice a subtle change in the ginger’s expression.

“Is that true, cutie?” Pantalone coos.

“Mhm~” He mewls at the feeling of his nipple getting pinched.

“How about this?” Pantalone squeezes Ajax’s neck, the tag on his collar resting on top of his fingers. His eyes roll to the back of his head.

“I think you should suffocate him with something else.” You wink at the regrator.

“Yeah? What do you think, rookie? You want me to sit on your face?”

Ajax shivers and softly nods. Pantalone smiles and starts removing his clothes. Ajax stares at his superior with curiosity. He's never really thought about it, but looking at him now, Pantalone is definitely his type. Ajax scans his body as the older man adjusts his position, from his hardened pink nipples to the scars beneath his chest and to the trimmed black hair hiding his undoubtedly beautiful pussy. Ajax’s gaze remains fixed on him as he opens his mouth, more than happy to be suffocated by it.

Once you stop moving, Ajax can tell you're completely inside. It still hurts but he doesn't want to wait until it stops. You're on the same page as him and start fucking him.

Pantalone slowly grinds on Ajax’s face, twitching with pleasure from the vibrations of Ajax’s moans. The bed creaks as your thrusts become rougher. You praise him as your hand trails over to his t-dick, making sure he knows how much you appreciate his soft, wet pussy. His body shakes violently as he squirts.

Pantalone feels his own orgasm approaching as he watches Ajax’s eyes roll to the back of his head. He doesn't stop licking the older man’s cunt even as he starts to become overwhelmed and lightheaded. He didn't think sex could feel this good.

“Yes~ like that, Ajax~” Pantalone lets out an airy moan. He slides his fingers through his ginger curls. “Good boy…taking us so well..”

“We should've hired you for this instead of combat. You won't mind if I take him on a ‘vacation’ from work, would you, Regrator?”

“As long as you let me join from time to time.” He puts all his weight on Ajax’s face as he squirts, his slick sliding down his face.

“Of course.” Your orgasm quickly follows Pantalone’s, your seed pumping him full. You watch Pantalone get up and look to see if Ajax is still conscious.

“So good..” He mumbles before passing out with a smile on his face.

[chogiwow]

the law of unintended consequences. | jake sim (part two)

→ posits that actions often have unforeseen and unanticipated effects, which may be positive, negative, or neutral, that are not part of the actor's original intent. PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

pairing: astrophysicist jake x assistant reader

genre: co-workers to lovers

wc: part 1 – 20k | part 2 – 17.3k

warnings: even more slowburn than before lol, topics of abandonment issues, jake has his first kiss, makeouts, some touching (that's as far as it goes), cheesy ass astronomy rizz :'D

a/n: part 2 finally here !!!! guys, i think i'll complete it in one more part, we haven't even got to the juicy parts, they're both still Realising their feelings for each other i'm really taking the slowburn to another level :'D posting this now since i have a busy weekend ahead and it'll take some time for the final part to come out, so enjoy <3

nine.

jake wasn't sure when he started noticing the small things.

it wasn't dramatic. it wasn't some grand realization, some epiphany that crashed into him like a runaway train. no, it was more like a slow leak in the ceiling – subtle at first, barely noticeable, until one day, he looked up and realized the whole thing was caving in.

you were still there. still at your desk. still doing your job. but something had changed.

for one, you no longer lingered.

before, you used to wait by his desk after reminding him of a meeting, hovering until he actually got up because you knew how prone he was to getting lost in his own head. you used to place his coffee just within reach of his right hand, knowing that he’d grab it without looking. you used to let out these small sighs when he worked through lunch, before eventually caving and placing a takeout container beside him with an exasperated, “at least eat before you starve.”

but now? now, you just told him his schedule and left. you still got his lunch, but it was left on the side of his desk, impersonal. you still reminded him about meetings, but you never waited for him to actually stand up. and the worst part? he knew it was because of him. because he had snapped at you. because he had made you feel like you had overstepped when, in reality, you were just doing what you had always done – taking care of him.

the guilt sat heavy in his stomach.

well, he had got what he had wanted, right? he had told you to stop caring, to make yourself scarce, and you were doing just that. you were back to being background noise again, the week before had probably just been a blip in time. maybe none of it had even happened – he hadn’t been late to his meeting, he hadn’t spent an entire evening with you sorting through his emails, he hadn’t brought you coffee like a delirious fool. he hadn’t snapped at you – acknowledged your efforts and put you down regardless.

there’s a law in physics, the law of unintended consequences.

jake had spent his life studying the rules that governed the universe. he had built entire theories on cause and effect, on how one action – one force – could change the course of everything around it. but there was a gap in every equation, an unpredictable variable that not even the most meticulous calculations could predict.

it was a rule he had known but never thought to apply to his own life.

and yet, here he was, watching as you followed the letter of his words but not the spirit. he had wanted distance. he had told you as much in sharp, thoughtless words. he had thought, idiotically, that space would bring things back to how they used to be.

instead, it had set something irreversible in motion.

at first, he told himself it was fine. he had bigger things to focus on, deadlines to meet, research papers to finalize. but the problem with noticing something was that you couldn’t stop noticing it. you were efficient, precise, the perfect assistant; exactly as you had been before.

except now, he felt the absence of you.

before, he never had to wonder if he’d make it to meetings on time. you would wait, standing by his desk with that look, the one that told him you knew he’d ignore you if you gave him even a second of leeway. but now? you simply reminded him and left. no hovering. no pointed sighs. no exasperated nudges to get moving.

and then there was the coffee.

it was a small thing, but jake noticed. before, the cup would be exactly where he needed it, always within reach of his dominant hand. a quiet, unconscious act of care. now? it was placed neatly at the edge of his desk, just out of immediate reach. he had to go out of his way to grab it.

it was ridiculous, the way these tiny details unsettled him.

he told himself it didn’t matter. that he had asked for this. that he shouldn’t be so thrown off by things he never even realized he relied on.

and yet.

he wasn’t sure what did it.

maybe it was the moment he saw you cleaning up a stack of files and, in your hurry, ran your hand along the sharp edge of a paper cutter. you barely reacted, shaking off the small drop of blood, about to move on like nothing happened. but something in jake stilled.

something made him sit still and watch like a creep through the crack of his door as you paused in your actions and moved your finger to your lips, gently sucking on the wound till the bleeding stopped.

it was such a small act. so innocent, something akin to a first aid, but his breath hitched. his breath hitched when his eyes tracked your actions, your hand going back to sorting through files, your wound long forgotten.

his body moved before his mind could catch up, his chair scraping against the floor as he stood.

for the first time in days, you actually looked surprised when he placed a bandaid in your palm instead of just tossing it onto your desk.

“you should be more careful,” he said, his voice coming out gruff, almost scolding.

you blinked at him, clearly thrown off, before your expression shuttered back into polite professionalism. “it’s just a small cut.”

jake clenched his jaw. he knew that. of course he knew that. but that wasn’t the point, was it?

still, you thanked him with a nod, applied the bandaid, and carried on like nothing had happened.

and that should have been the end of it.

but it wasn’t.

because jake, who had always been so good at solving problems, had stumbled upon one that didn’t fit neatly into any equation.

the unintended consequence of his distance wasn’t just that you stopped lingering. it was that he now felt like an observer in his own life, watching as something essential slipped away, and—

and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

jake had never been one to believe in regret. he made decisions, and he lived with them. he adjusted. he recalibrated. he hadn’t cared much when only his mom could make it to his annual school competitions, doing her best to cheer louder, to compensate for the missing person in his life. he hadn’t given two shits when people in high school had stared and pointed at him like he had been an anomaly. not when his overbearing aunts had disguised their praises for him as something he should inherently be able to do to make up for the absence of the person in his life.

he hadn’t wasted time pondering upon silly questions like ‘was i not enough?’ or ‘was i not lovable enough for him to stay?’.

even in his young mind, those had seemed futile questions, ones he would never have an answer to and therefore, not worth his time.

but now, he was finding himself staring too long at the empty space you used to fill. he was realizing that, for someone who prided himself on understanding the fundamental laws of the universe, he had overlooked the most important one.

he had always thought that if he pushed something away, it would eventually return to its natural place. like gravity pulling a comet back into orbit.

but now, he wasn’t so sure.

now he was actually questioning things – emotions, feelings, hurt.

had he hurt you?

but why would he care? why would he start now? why would you care about him to the point that you would let his ineptitude hurt you?

jake didn’t consider himself the kind of person who fixated on things. he was methodical, pragmatic, someone who could compartmentalize problems into neat little boxes and only open them when absolutely necessary.

but this?

this was a crack in the foundation he hadn’t accounted for.

he told himself it was fine – your distance, your absence, the way you had begun to retreat from him in increments so small he might not have noticed if he weren’t already looking for them. he told himself he had wanted this, and that it didn’t matter.

and yet.

jake found himself watching. noticing. keeping track of the subtle ways you had begun to slip from his periphery, like sand through his fingers.

before, he had always known where you were. even if he wasn’t actively looking, you were just there, orbiting around him in a way that felt natural, unshakable. but now? now, he caught himself scanning the office for you, only to realize you were nowhere nearby. it wasn’t that you weren’t working – you were still efficient, still meticulous, still the perfect assistant – but you were no longer his constant.

the worst part? he had no idea why it bothered him so much.

he kept trying to rationalize it, to shove the thought into a mental folder labeled irrelevant and move on. but it was harder than he expected.

because there were moments, tiny and fleeting, where he thought he caught glimpses of something deeper beneath your polite professionalism. a hesitation before answering him. the way your lips pressed together just slightly when he handed you a stack of papers without so much as a please or thank you. the way you never quite met his eyes for too long anymore.

it had been a series of choices, he realized. small, inconsequential decisions that had snowballed into something much bigger than he had ever intended.

like the way he had dismissed you, snapping at you in a moment of frustration. he hadn’t thought twice about it then – just another conversation, another fleeting exchange in the middle of an exhausting day. but the weight of it lingered, heavy and suffocating, because now he could see the ripple effect in real time.

he had thought pushing you away would return things to normal. instead, it had left him standing in the ruins of something he hadn’t even realized was important to him.

and the most frustrating part? he didn’t know how to fix it.

jake wasn’t used to being at a loss. he had built his life around solutions, around having the answers before anyone even knew there was a problem. but this? this wasn’t a puzzle he could solve with logic or calculations. this was different. this was messy and human and something he didn’t even fully understand himself.

so he did what he always did when faced with something he couldn’t control – he observed.

he started paying closer attention. he told himself it wasn’t because of you, not really, just a vague curiosity that had no deeper meaning. but then he noticed how you laughed more with others now. how you lingered in conversations with coworkers, how your shoulders relaxed when you weren’t around him.

it was disorienting, realizing that you had found ways to exist outside of him. that you had always been capable of doing so, but he had just never seen it before.

and maybe that was what unsettled him the most.

one afternoon, he caught himself staring at the untouched coffee on his desk. it had gone cold. the same coffee you had placed there earlier, just slightly out of reach, like an afterthought.

jake had always taken for granted that it would be there. he had never even considered the effort behind it, the simple, thoughtless care that had gone into something as small as placing it within easy reach.

but now, staring at the lukewarm liquid, he felt something uncomfortable twist in his chest.

he didn’t like it.

he didn’t like how things felt off-kilter. how he had let something slip between his fingers without even realizing what it was. he didn’t like how aware he was of your absence now, how much space you had unknowingly occupied in his life before you started retreating.

it was frustrating, this gnawing feeling of wrongness.

so he did something stupid.

“hey,” he said one evening, catching you just as you were gathering your things to leave.

you blinked at him, clearly surprised. “yes?”

he hesitated for a fraction of a second. he hadn’t actually thought this far ahead.

“i—” he cleared his throat. “did you—uh. did you send the reports to finance?”

your brows furrowed slightly. “yes. i emailed them over earlier.”

“right. okay.” he shifted, feeling uncharacteristically awkward. “thanks.”

you nodded, waiting for a beat. when he didn’t say anything else, you adjusted your bag on your shoulder. “alright. goodnight, dr. sim.”

and then you were gone.

jake exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. what the fuck was that?

that wasn’t what he had meant to say. it wasn’t what he wanted to ask. but the words had lodged themselves in his throat, heavy and unfamiliar.

because what had he wanted to say?

had he wanted to tell you he noticed? that he missed something he couldn’t even name? that for someone who prided himself on understanding the fundamental laws of the universe, he had failed to account for the one thing he should have seen coming?

gravity.

every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

he had pushed you away. and now, he wasn’t sure how to pull you back in.

jake sat back in his chair, staring at the empty doorway where you had just been.

he needed to fix this. he needed to rise up from his inability to form human bonds or interact like a normal functioning adult. he had never felt the need to do so before, but for once – he wanted to. at least try and make amends.

because  jake never meant to offend anyone, much rather put them down. but he had done, willingly so this time around. but he wasn’t so broken as to not hold on to the semblance of a decent human being and not apologise.

he needed to fix this. he just didn’t know how yet.

ten.

its 10:09 am when the phone on your desk rings.

your fingers hesitate for a second before picking it up, already half-expecting it to be a mundane request from another department. but the voice on the other end is unfamiliar.

“hello, this is dr. sim’s office, correct?”

you straighten slightly at the mention of jake’s name. “yes, this is his assistant speaking. how can i help you?”

the woman on the other end exhales, relief threading through her voice. “oh, thank god. i’ve been trying to reach him, but he’s not answering his cell. can you please tell him his mother is calling? it’s urgent.”

your breath stills. his mother? you’ve never spoken to her before, but something about the way she sounds – strained, worried – has your heart clenching instinctively.

“of course, ma���am. please hold for a moment.”

you press the receiver against your chest as you rise from your desk, walking toward jake’s office with quick steps. when you push the door open, you find him at his desk, eyes glued to his monitor, expression unreadable.

“dr. sim,” you say carefully. he barely glances up. “your mother is on the line.”

that gets his attention.

his head snaps up so fast it looks like it might hurt, and the second he sees your expression – neutral but carefully watching – something in his own face shifts. a split-second crack in his usual control.

his mother wouldn’t call the office unless something was wrong.

you see it the moment his mind catches up to the implication. his face goes pale, and he pushes back his chair roughly, standing so fast it scrapes against the floor.

“transfer it,” he says, voice clipped, but his hands are already trembling as he reaches for the phone on his desk.

you nod and return to yours, quickly pressing the button to connect the call. as soon as it clicks over, you hear his voice – lower now, tight with something close to dread.

“mom?”

you should turn away. you should focus on your work, give him the privacy he needs. but something keeps your gaze locked on him, even as you try not to make it obvious.

there’s a pause. then, whatever his mother says has the color draining from his face entirely.

his fingers clench around the phone. his jaw sets tight, lips parting slightly like he wants to say something, but no words come out.

then, finally, he exhales.

“when?” his voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it, a sharpness that makes your stomach twist.

another pause. then he nods, even though she can’t see him. “okay. i’ll be there.”

he hangs up.

for a moment, he just stands there, fingers still curled around the receiver like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. his head is slightly bowed, his shoulders tense.

and then he turns.

his eyes meet yours. and for the first time in a long time, you see something raw and unguarded in them. not frustration. not cold professionalism. something else entirely.

something that makes you forget, for just a moment, that things have been different between you. that there’s been an invisible wall between the two of you, made of everything unspoken.

“is everything—” you catch yourself. it’s not your place to ask. but the words are already out there. “is everything alright?”

he swallows. a muscle in his jaw jumps. he looks like he wants to say no. but he doesn’t.

instead, he exhales slowly, like he’s trying to ground himself. “i need to leave for a bit.”

“of course.” you hesitate, but then add, “do you need me to reschedule anything?”

he nods once, curtly. “yes. i’ll send you a list.”

the phone call had been brief – too brief for how he looked now. his face was pale, fingers twitching slightly at his sides as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them. the usual sharp focus in his eyes was gone, replaced with something unsettled, something raw.

you had barely heard what he’d said when he hung up. just a quiet, clipped response before he set the phone down with unnatural care, as if it might shatter in his hands. then silence. a long, heavy silence that made you shift in your seat.

he’s already reaching for his coat, but the way he moves – it’s not the usual controlled efficiency he carries himself with. his hands are stiff, his grip on the fabric just a little too tight. like he’s barely holding himself together.

“…dr. sim?”

jake didn’t respond.

you hesitated, glancing toward the doorway of his office. no one else was around – just the two of you in this unsettling quiet. you had been ready to move on, to keep things professional, to pretend you weren’t still hyper-aware of the strange coldness that had settled between you both. but this? this wasn’t something you could ignore.

you took a step forward. “jake.”

his head snapped up.

it took you off guard, the way his gaze sharpened at the sound of his name. but then, just as quickly, the tension in his shoulders collapsed. his expression flickered – like a fault line deep underground, cracking beneath pressure.

you tried again, softer this time. “what happened?”

jake inhaled, but the breath barely reached his lungs. “it’s my mom.”

your stomach twisted.

you had remembered jake’s phone call with her a few days ago. how he had sounded so agitated back then. jake never spoke much about his family, but you knew enough to understand that she was important to him in ways he didn’t know how to express. that, for all his cold rationality, all his carefully measured distance, she was a gravitational force in his life that he could never quite pull away from.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, your voice gentle.

jake didn’t answer right away. he looked at his hands – like he wasn’t sure when they had started shaking. when he finally spoke, his voice was low, nearly inaudible.

“she’s in the hospital.”

something in your chest tightened. “jake…”

he shook his head once, as if physically stopping himself from unraveling. “i—i need to go,” he said, already reaching for his coat, movements stiff. “i don’t—i can’t just sit here.”

“of course,” you said immediately. “do you want me to call someone? arrange a flight?”

“no,” he said, too quickly. he pressed his fingers to his temple, exhaling hard. “i’ll handle it.”

you watched him, watched the way he was barely keeping himself together. and despite everything, the growing distance, the unsaid things, you couldn’t just let him go like this.

“jake,” you said carefully, stepping closer. “let me help.”

for the first time in weeks, he met your gaze directly. and for the first time in weeks, you saw something unguarded in his eyes.

not calculation. not control.

just fear.

his throat bobbed. he looked like he wanted to say something – like he didn’t know how. but then his jaw clenched, and he nodded once, just slightly.

you reached for your phone. “i’ll book the next flight.”

jake exhaled slowly, as if grounding himself. he didn’t thank you – not verbally. but the way his shoulders loosened just slightly, the way his hands stopped trembling—

it was enough.

the drive to the airport was quiet.

jake was in the passenger seat, fingers curled into fists on his lap. he had barely spoken since leaving the office, only responding in brief nods or single words when necessary. the weight of the unknown pressed heavy between you both, thick like fog.

you had booked the first flight you could find, mere hours from the phone call and you had made sure he had gone back home immediately to pack his necessities. you knew you had a hard time coming with all the meetings and deadlines that needed to be pushed back, but that could wait. you had to make sure he was fine first.

you were in half a mind to offer to go along with him, but that would be crossing a line, right? afterall, you both were still at crossroads, still just assistant and employer. you couldn’t possibly even dare to suggest this in the first place.

when you pulled into the departure lane, you hesitated before reaching for his bag in the backseat. “are you sure you don’t want me to—”

“no,” jake said, shaking his head. his voice was hoarse. “you’ve done enough.”

you swallowed. he wasn’t saying it unkindly – just…tiredly. hollow in a way that didn’t suit him.

still, you lingered. you weren’t sure why. maybe it was because of the way he gripped the strap of his bag too tightly. maybe it was the way his breath came uneven, like he was bracing for something.

maybe it was because, for the first time, jake sim looked small.

he was out of his lab coat for the first time, a hastily found hoodie on his frame but his eyes. they looked so lost, so panicked and scared all at the same time, you couldn't even start to think what was going on in his mind. but you know for once that it hadn’t got anything to do with numbers and the universe.

you don’t know how to comfort him, not without knowing the situation and you definitely do not want to feed him empty reassurances. he would see right through them, the logical man that he was, he would probably even scoff at you for being presumptuous. so you do the best you can with the situation.

“i hope she’s okay,” you said quietly. “let me know when you land.”

he hesitated. then, finally, “yeah.”

“and don’t worry about work, i promise i’ll reschedule everything, take as much as you need.”

this, you mean too. because you will make sure of this, it’s the only thing you can do, to be quite honest. so you decide that you will, and you’ll give it your all.

you didn’t expect more. and yet, just as he was about to turn away, he stopped.

for a second, he looked like he might say something else. like he might let something slip through the cracks of whatever walls he had built between you both.

but then he just inhaled sharply and stepped away from the car, disappearing into the terminal without another word.

and you were left there, watching him go, wondering why it felt like something in you had gone with him.

eleven.

jake sat in his old car, the one his mom drove now. he had tried to convince her to buy a new one, but she insisted on using this beaten up junk he had used for most of his university life.

his day had been hectic, to say the least. he had touched down within two hours of leaving, all because you had managed to book him the earliest flight possible. his first stop had been the hospital where his mother had been admitted. she had fainted apparently, in the middle of a grocery store. someone had helped her and when she had come to, she had called jake immediately.

of course, as an understanding woman, she had hesitated before calling, but then she figured she’d be abandoning her son the way his father had, so without a second thought, she had called. she had buried the feeling that she was being a burden and explained to jake what had happened.

something very minor, a quick surgery would fix it, she’d be up and about in a week, but she would require someone by her side for that time.

jake talked to the doctors, a decision was made almost immediately, whatever his mother needed, he would do it. the surgery was in three days, she would not be in any major danger till then.

and then he had called you. well, he had called his front desk and asked to be transferred to you because he did not have your number.

“dr. sim?” your voice sounded distant and it only hurt a little that you didn’t call him by his first name like you had back then.

a long silence. then, his voice – low, rough, exhausted.

“she needs surgery.”

you had straightened in your chair. “surgery?”

“a minor procedure,” he clarified, though his voice sounded anything but reassured. “the doctors said she’ll be fine, but…”

he trailed off. you waited.

“but i don’t know if she wants me here.”

that was the part that made your stomach twist. not the surgery, not the hospital – those were tangible things, things jake could analyze and categorize, things with numbers and statistics and measurable risks. but this? the unspoken weight of old wounds, of things left unresolved between him and his mother?

this was something jake couldn’t quantify.

“dr. sim…” you started, hesitating. you weren’t sure if he wanted comfort, if he would even accept it. “i’m sure she’s glad you’re there.”

a dry, humorless chuckle crackled through the receiver. “i have been pushing her away for so long, i won’t blame her if she doesn't want me here.”

and he had done the same to you too. he had convinced himself that you did not need him or have any requirement of him in your life for it to function.

you closed your eyes. “have you talked to her?”

another pause. “not really.”

the admission had made something in your chest tighten.

“i don’t know what to say,” he muttered. “i don’t know if i should even be here.”

you exhaled slowly, gripping your phone tighter. “dr. sim, she called you.”

that made him pause.

“she called you,” you had repeated, softer this time. “if she didn’t want you there, she wouldn’t have.”

for a long time, there was nothing. just his breathing on the other end, slow and uneven. then, finally—

“maybe.”

it wasn’t certain, but it wasn’t dismissal either.

you had glanced down at your planner, at the list of tasks you still needed to get through before the day ended. none of them had seemed as important then.

“if you need anything,” you had said, voice steady, “just let me know.”

jake hadn’t responded right away. but when he finally did, it was quieter, softer than before.

“yeah,” he murmured. “thanks.”

and then the line went dead.

his hands rested now on the wheel, unmoving, but his mind was anything but still. he had been sitting there for ten minutes now, staring at the house in front of him, telling his mother to go on first, that he would follow soon after. it was the same house he had grown up in, the same porch light flickering against the damp evening air, the same worn-out welcome mat his mother refused to replace because she said it held memories.

memories.

jake hated memories.

but lately, they kept creeping in, unwelcome and persistent, just like the thoughts of you that he couldn’t seem to shake. he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before finally stepping out of the car. the moment he knocked on the door, it swung open almost immediately.

“come on in, i was starting to think you’d spend the night in that old thing.” his mother’s voice was warm but held that gentle chiding tone only mothers could master. she must have been waiting.

“yeah,” jake muttered, stepping inside. “sorry.”

his mother gave him a knowing look but didn’t push. instead, she motioned for him to sit at the kitchen table. it was strange, being back home. the familiarity was both comforting and suffocating.

they ate in silence for a while, the only sounds coming from the occasional clink of cutlery against ceramic. his mother had made all his favorite dishes, even before she knew he was coming like it was something she did regardless of whether or not her son was in town, and he hated how easily that made his chest tighten.

“so,” she finally said, breaking the quiet. “how’s jay? sunghoon?”

jake nodded. “they’re good.”

his mother hummed, waiting. jake knew she wasn’t just asking about them.

“and you?” she prompted.

“i’m fine,” he answered automatically.

her eyes softened, but she didn’t call him out on the lie. instead, she reached for his empty plate and stood to rinse it. that was always how it was between them. no forced conversations, no prying. just patience. it used to drive him crazy.

“you don’t visit as much anymore,” she said casually, but jake could hear the weight in her voice.

jake leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple. “i’ve been busy.”

“too busy for your mother?”

his throat felt tight. “that’s not—” he sighed. “i don’t know.”

she shut off the sink and turned to him, drying her hands on a dish towel. “you’ve been running, jake.”

the words struck deep, hitting something raw inside him. he opened his mouth to deny it, but what was the point? she saw through him, as she always had.

“ever since your father left,” she continued, voice gentle but firm, “you’ve been running from anything that makes you feel too much. you push people away before they can leave you first.”

jake clenched his jaw. “that’s not true.”

her expression didn’t change. “isn’t it?”

he wanted to argue, but flashes of his past screamed otherwise. his father’s car pulling out of the driveway, his mother’s silent tears in the kitchen, the way he had stopped asking when his father would come back. how he had pulled away – from her, from the warmth she tried so hard to keep alive in their home. because what was the point? if his own father could leave so easily, then wasn’t everything temporary?

his mother sighed, walking over to sit beside him. “i don’t bring this up to hurt you, sweetheart. but i see the way you hold yourself back. you’ve always done that, even when you were a boy. you care, but you don’t let yourself feel it too deeply.”

jake exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening around the edge of the kitchen table. the weight of his mother’s words settled heavily in his chest, pressing against old wounds he’d buried for too long.

“maybe,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

his mother didn’t gloat, didn’t press. she only gave him that quiet, patient look that somehow made him feel both seen and uncomfortably exposed. it was always like this with her – gentle in the ways that hurt the most.

“i know why you’ve been distant,” she said softly, moving back to the table. “and i know it’s not just about me.”

jake stilled. he knew what was coming next. he could feel it in the way his mother studied him, in the way her eyes carried an understanding he wasn’t ready to face.

“you always bottle things up,” she continued, her voice steady. “you don’t let yourself get attached. you let people slip away before they even have the chance to stay.” she paused, letting her words settle.

then— “but there’s someone you don’t want to let go of, isn’t there?”

jake’s breath hitched. his immediate instinct was to deny it, to shut down the conversation before it could go any further. but the words refused to form.

because she was right.

because for the first time in years, there was someone – someone who had slipped into his life so effortlessly, so quietly, that he hadn’t noticed until the absence of their presence started to eat away at him. someone whose voice still echoed in his head, whose absence left a hollowness he couldn’t explain away.

you.

his mother didn’t push. she just waited, as she always had, offering a space that was safe even when it didn’t feel like it. and maybe it was the exhaustion from the past few days, or maybe it was the fact that, for once, he didn’t want to run from this conversation.

jake exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “i don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

his mother simply hummed, waiting.

“i’m… off,” he admitted, hesitating. “lately, everything feels – wrong. like i’m forgetting something important, like i’m missing something. but i don’t know what to do about it.”

his mother tilted her head slightly. “and does this have something to do with the person you called earlier?”

jake’s fingers twitched against the table. “i didn’t call her directly,” he muttered, because even now, he wasn’t sure if he could handle what saying your name out loud would do to him. “i had to go through the front desk to reach her.”

his mother smiled knowingly. “that’s not the point, sweetheart.”

jake swallowed. he knew. he knew exactly what she was getting at.

“it’s just… she’s just been there,” he found himself saying, his voice hesitant. “always so put together, always knowing exactly what i need before i even have to ask. it’s like she—” he stopped himself before he could say too much, but his mother was already watching him with an expression that told him she understood more than he wanted her to.

“she takes care of you.”

jake’s jaw clenched. “yeah.”

“and you don’t know what to do with that.”

his laugh was hollow, humorless. “i don’t think i deserve it.”

his mother sighed, her eyes soft. “jake.”

he shook his head, leaning back against the chair. “i hurt her.”

the words felt heavier than he expected. saying them out loud made them real, made them impossible to ignore.

his mother didn’t look surprised. “how?”

jake hesitated. he wasn’t sure where to begin. it wasn’t just one thing – it was everything. the way he’d dismissed you, the way he’d taken you for granted, the way he’d let you become part of his routine without ever stopping to consider what that meant.

“i pushed her away,” he admitted, his voice tight. “i didn’t even realize i was doing it until it was too late. and now…”

his mother’s gaze was patient, understanding. “and now?”

jake exhaled slowly. “now, i feel like i’m losing my mind.”

his mother’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “because change terrifies you. and she’s become part of your life in a way you never expected.”

jake stared at the table, his thoughts a tangled mess. “i don’t even know when it happened,” he murmured. “i just… one day, she was there. and now, when she’s not – it feels wrong.”

his mother reached across the table, placing a gentle hand over his. “that sounds a lot like caring, jake.”

he let out a slow, shaky breath. “maybe.”

his mother squeezed his hand. “sweetheart, i’ve watched you close yourself off for so long. and i know you think it’s safer that way. but it’s okay to let people in. it’s okay to care.”

jake closed his eyes. he wanted to believe that. he really did.

“i don’t know how to fix this.”

his mother’s smile was sad but encouraging. “then start by not running away.”

jake swallowed hard, her words settling deep inside him. for the first time in a long while, he felt like maybe – just maybe – he didn’t want to run anymore.

jake’s fingers curled against the table. “i don’t know how i feel about this.”

his mother reached out, resting a hand over his. “that’s okay. but don’t let your fear stop you from figuring it out.”

jake didn’t respond. he didn’t know how.

his mother sighed, squeezing his hand once before letting go. “just don’t push her away, jake. don’t make the same mistake your father did.”

the words hit harder than he expected. he wasn’t like his father. he refused to be. but deep down, he knew – he had spent so much time trying to avoid being hurt that he had been the one keeping others at arm’s length.

maybe that needed to change.

later that night, as he lay in his childhood bedroom staring at the ceiling, his thoughts kept drifting back to you. the way you carried yourself, the way you fought for your place, the way you—

the way you made him feel.

jake turned onto his side, exhaling heavily. maybe it was time to stop running. maybe, for once, he needed to stay.

twelve.

you sat at your desk, staring at the chaotic schedule in front of you. jake had only been gone a few days, but it felt like an entire month’s worth of work had piled up. between rescheduling meetings, handling review dates, and ensuring the interns didn’t completely destroy the office system, your plate was overflowing. but that was your job. and you were good at it.

jake’s absence, however, made things feel heavier.

you had never been more aware of how much of your day revolved around him until he wasn’t here. normally, he’d be in his office, shooting you the occasional exasperated look over paperwork, or stepping out to ask for another coffee despite already having two. you had gotten used to the rhythm of his presence, the way it filled spaces without needing to demand attention.

now, that presence was gone, and you were left to make sure everything didn’t completely fall apart before he returned.

you let out a sigh, rubbing your temples before picking up your phone. another call, another problem to solve.

by the time jake’s return was only a few days away, you were running on caffeine and sheer determination. you had managed to keep everything under control, but it had taken everything out of you. your mind barely had space to wander – except for the brief moments when you remembered your last conversation with jake. the way his voice had sounded so lost, the hesitation behind his words.

but you couldn’t dwell on that. he wasn’t here. and when he came back, things would fall back into place.

a knock on your office door snapped you from your thoughts. you looked up to see one of your colleagues peeking in.

“hey, dr. sim called. he asked for you specifically.”

you blinked. “me?”

“yeah. said he wanted to check in.”

you hesitated for a moment before grabbing the office phone and dialing the number.

it barely rang once before he picked up. “y/n.”

his voice was different. not as tired as before, but still carrying something heavy. you straightened in your chair. “dr. sim. you called?”

a pause. then, “yeah. i just… wanted to check in. how’s everything?”

you glanced at the never-ending list on your screen. “under control.”

jake let out a small huff, almost like a laugh. “of course it is.”

silence stretched between you, and for a moment, you weren’t sure what else to say. but then his voice softened. “thank you. for everything. i know it’s been a lot.”

you smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “that’s my job, dr. sim.”

jake inhaled sharply, like the words had physically hurt him.

your job.

like this was just a role, a duty to fulfill. like you were only here because of professional obligation, not because you had ever cared beyond that.

and maybe that was the worst part – knowing that at some point, you had cared. that at some point, he had meant more to you. but now, all that remained was distance, formality.

“right,” he said after a moment, his voice unreadable. “i’ll be back soon.”

“of course. safe travels.”

the call ended before either of you could say more, but the weight of it lingered. you sat there for a long time, staring at your desk, trying to push away the uneasy feeling settling in your chest.

meanwhile, on the other end of the line, jake sat in his childhood home, gripping his phone tighter than necessary. for the first time in a long time, he felt like he had lost something important.

and he had no idea how to get it back.

jay keeps him updated, the way you’re single handedly managing his schedule, making sure kang doesn’t fire his ass straight up (not that he would, jake’s too much of a genius for that to happen). but more than that, jay spoke of the way you kept things running, how you barely took a break, how you worked yourself to exhaustion, making sure everything was still intact for when jake returned.

jake listened in silence, the pit in his stomach growing heavier with each passing word. you had always been efficient, always been reliable. but there was something about the way jay talked about you now – how you were overextending yourself, how you hardly left your desk unless necessary – that made him uneasy.

by the time he finally stepped back into the office, the weight of unfinished conversations, of unspoken words, was pressing heavily on his shoulders. his absence had given him clarity, but clarity didn’t mean anything if he didn’t act on it.

when jake does come back, it’s a surprise to you too. he hadn’t called in advance, hadn’t mentioned anything, hadn’t even asked you to book a flight. just shown up to work on a thursday like he hadn’t been on a leave the past week.

it surprised you, you thought you were hallucinating.

jake was the same, yet different. he was still dressed impeccably, his dark suit fitted just right, his tie slightly loosened as if he had already had a long morning. but his eyes – those damn eyes – were sharp when they landed on you, scanning you like he was seeing you for the first time in months, not weeks.

“morning.” his voice was smooth, composed. if he was affected by anything, he didn’t let it show.

you forced herself to breathe. “morning.”

a pause later, you added, “how’s your mom?”

jake smiles, faintly. he looks tired, but also like he was well rested. like the week away from his office had given him the rest he had deserved.

“she’s fine,” he says, and you realise you had missed the warmth of his voice, “she’s recovering pretty fast.”

you nod, thankful that things were alright. you want to say something more, ask him how he was doing, ask him ask him if he’s really okay.

the words sit on your tongue, hesitant, unwilling to be spoken. you don't know if you have the right to ask anymore.

jake, for his part, watches you like he’s waiting for something. like he’s expecting you to say more, but when you don’t, he only nods. there’s something restrained in his expression, something that makes you feel like there’s more he wants to say too – but neither of you does.

instead, the moment passes.

“i should—” you gesture vaguely to your desk, to the endless tasks that had piled up in his absence. “i didn’t know you were coming back today, if you want , i can set your schedule up today. maybe a meeting in an hour with director kang, if you’re up for it, and then a review session with the legal team later in the afternoon. i can send the details to your email.”

jake exhales, eyes flickering to his office door. you’re rambling and he finds it amusing. or endearing. the thought of the latter feeling makes him tighten his hold over his bag, but he doesn’t look away, just nods along to whatever you say.

afterall, you know what’s best.

“right. i’ll look through it.”

you nod once, curt, and then turn back to your screen, as if that conversation hadn’t just been something fragile, something that could’ve cracked open if you had let it. you think that’s the end of it. that he’ll walk away, go back to his office, and things will return to the way they were.

but jake doesn’t move.

he lingers.

and then, in a voice softer than before, he says, “thank you, y/n.”

your fingers pause over your keyboard.

it’s not the words themselves that make your breath hitch – it’s the way he says them. the way they aren’t just polite acknowledgments, aren’t just an empty phrase meant to brush past the weight of everything left unsaid. no, this is different.

this is him meaning it.

this is gratitude in its truest form, held in his voice like it’s something delicate.

you inhale slowly, schooling your expression before you look up at him again. “of course,” you reply, but the words feel distant, like they don’t quite match the way your heart stumbles against your ribs.

jake’s lips press together, as if he wants to say something more. but then jay appears, calling out to him from the other side of the office, and the moment snaps in half.

just like that, he’s gone.

for most part of the day though, jake is drowning in work.

it had been that way since he got back – nonstop reviews, overflowing emails, projects that had stalled in his absence. the moment he stepped into the office, he had been pulled in every direction, barely given room to breathe. and he let it happen. work was easier to focus on. it was something he could control.

but every now and then, between the numbers and the reports, he felt it – the weight of your presence just beyond his reach.

you were there. moving around the office, talking to coworkers, slipping in and out of the conference room with files in hand. he caught glimpses of you in passing, his eyes drawn to you more times than he could count. you weren’t avoiding him anymore, not like before, but the distance was still there – an unspoken, lingering thing between you both.

he wanted to talk to you. he really did. but every time he so much as turned in your direction, something else demanded his attention – a call, an urgent email, a meeting running longer than expected. so he buried himself in work, knowing that if he just got through all of it, if he could just clear his plate, then maybe he could finally sit down with you. no interruptions. no distractions. just you and him.

but the day passed, and the timing was never right. not until lunch.

he didn’t notice at first – too caught up in his screen, typing away furiously. but when he finally leaned back to stretch, his eyes landed on your figure, knuckles raised against his door as if you were just about to knock.

your eyes widen as if you had been caught doing something scandalous, but you school your expression, clearing your throat hastily.

“you should eat,” you said, voice careful. “it’s been a long day, and it's only going to get busier later. dr. lee called for an impromptu review at four pm.”

you sound apologetic, almost as if you’re the one who put him through this predicament, especially after his first day back.

for a second, he just stared at you. it had been so long since you had done something like this for him. since you had even looked at him like this – cautious, hesitant, but still caring. and for the first time in what felt like forever, the words weren’t automatic, weren’t distant.

jake exhales, pushing away from his desk. his shoulders ache, his mind heavy from the sheer amount of work waiting for him, but for the first time today, his focus shifts entirely – to you.

you’re still standing there, waiting for his response.

his gaze flickers over your expression, taking in the way you hover, like you’re unsure if you should even be here. like you’re debating whether you should have said anything at all.

and suddenly, he doesn’t want you to leave just yet.

jake clears his throat, shifting in his seat. “have you eaten?”

you blink, clearly thrown off.

“uh,” you hesitate. “no, not yet.”

jake nods once, contemplative. then, without overthinking it, he pushes back his chair, standing to grab his coat.

“let’s go, then.”

your brain stutters. “go where?”

“lunch.” he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. like it’s not entirely unprecedented and completely out of character for him to suggest something like this.

you stare at him, almost suspicious. “like, together?”

a corner of his mouth twitches, though he quickly tamps it down. “yes, y/n. together.”

you should say no. you should.

because this? this is dangerous territory. jake doesn’t ask you to lunch. he doesn’t ask you for anything, really – at least, nothing that doesn’t pertain to work.

but then he tilts his head ever so slightly, waiting. and maybe it’s the exhaustion talking, maybe it’s the way your stomach actually growls at the worst possible moment, or maybe it’s just that he’s looking at you like that.

like he’s trying.

“…okay,” you say before you can stop yourself.

jake nods, satisfied, before leading the way out of his office.

thirteen.

the café jake picked was a little ways away from the office, tucked into a quieter street lined with small shops. it wasn’t anything extravagant – just a cozy place with warm lighting and a surprisingly extensive menu. you weren’t sure what you expected, but it definitely wasn’t this.

“you come here often?” you asked as you both settled into a table near the window.

jake hummed, glancing over the menu. “not really. but i figured somewhere away from the office would be better.”

you blinked, caught off guard by his thoughtfulness. “oh.”

he didn’t elaborate, just focused on the menu like this was something normal. like he hadn’t just, for the first time in forever, actively chosen to spend time with you outside of work.

the waitress arrived, and after a quick back-and-forth (in which jake somehow convinced you to order something other than your usual go-to sandwich), you were left with nothing but your drinks and the thick air of unspoken words.

“so,” you started, wrapping your hands around your cup. “how’s your mom doing?”

jake leaned back slightly, fingers tapping idly against the table. “better. still recovering, but she’s been more energetic these past few days.”

“that’s good to hear.”

“she actually told me to stop hovering over her,” he added, lips twitching in amusement. “said i was more of a nuisance than a help.”

you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “i can imagine. you don’t seem like the type to sit still when you’re worried.”

jake’s brows lifted slightly, but he didn’t deny it. “you’re not wrong.”

there was a beat of silence, comfortable this time. jake studied you for a moment before tilting his head slightly. “what about you?”

you frowned. “what about me?”

he shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “how have you been? you’ve basically been running the office while i was gone.”

“it’s nothing i couldn’t handle,” you said, brushing it off.

jake wasn’t convinced. “jay made it sound like you barely had time to breathe.”

you huffed, shaking your head. “jay exaggerates.”

“does he?”

you hesitated. “okay, maybe a little. but it’s my job. it’s what i do.”

something flickered in his expression, but before you could dissect it, he changed the subject. “what do you do after work?”

you blinked. “huh?”

“when you’re not running the office or making sure i don’t completely destroy my schedule—what do you do?”

you narrowed your eyes, suspicious. “why do you want to know?”

jake smirked slightly, but there was a sincerity behind it. “just curious.”

you hesitated for a moment before sighing. “not much, honestly. i usually just go home, maybe read a little. sometimes i go out with friends, but it depends on the day.”

jake hummed, nodding. “sounds… peaceful.”

“sometimes.” you tilted your head. “what about you? when you’re not buried in research papers or ignoring kang’s calls?”

jake exhaled a laugh. “ignoring kang is a full-time job in itself.”

you snorted, shaking your head. but you’re also slightly malfunctioning. never in a million years would you have even imagined that you’d be sitting across jake sim, making small talk. is this a dream?

“but,” he continued, “i guess i read, too. or watch documentaries. i used to play soccer more, but it’s been a while.”

your brows lifted slightly. “soccer? really?”

jake smirked. “what, don’t believe me?”

this side of him is new. the smirk, the unguarded laughs, the way he sometimes bites his lips. you will yourself to stay calm, clench your fingers in your lap and exhale slowly.

you shrugged. “i just can’t picture you running around on a field when you’re usually glued to your computer.”

“i contain multitudes,” he said, mock-offended.

you rolled your eyes, but the smile lingered.

then, seemingly out of nowhere, he asked, “so, are you seeing anyone?”

your entire brain short-circuited.

“wh—what?”

jake leaned back, utterly unbothered. “you know. dating. boyfriend, girlfriend, situationship. whatever people call it these days.”

you stared at him. “why do you want to know?”

he shrugged, playing it cool. “just making conversation.”

your eyes narrowed slightly, but you answered anyway. “no. not at the moment.”

jake nodded slowly, almost like he was committing that information to memory.

you crossed your arms. “and you?”

his expression didn’t change. “no.”

“not even someone waiting for you to finally look up from your research and realize they exist?”

jake exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “not that i know of.”

you hummed, unconvinced, but let it go.

for a moment, the conversation lulled, and then you found yourself blurting, “why did you choose astrophysics?”

jake glanced up, slightly surprised by the question. but after a beat, his lips curled up faintly. “you really want to know?”

you shrugged. “i wouldn’t have asked if i didn’t.”

he leaned forward slightly, his voice taking on that familiar, passionate undertone he always had when he spoke about his field. “i guess it started when i was a kid. i always liked figuring things out, but space… space is different. it’s infinite, unpredictable. the more you learn, the more you realize how much you don’t know.”

you watched him, absorbed by the way his eyes lit up as he spoke.

“it’s terrifying,” he admitted, a small grin playing on his lips. “but it’s also incredible. there are entire galaxies out there, black holes that warp time, planets that could be habitable. the laws of physics as we know them could be completely different somewhere else.”

you smiled slightly, resting your chin on your hand. “you sound like you’re in love with it.”

jake blinked at you, momentarily thrown off.

then, he huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “maybe i am.”

and for some reason, something about that made your chest feel oddly tight.

the food arrived then, breaking the moment. but as you both ate, the conversation continued – easier now, lighter. and you didn’t miss the way jake kept looking at you, like he was memorizing this, like he was finally realizing that outside of the office, outside of schedules and meetings and deadlines, there was you.

and maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to miss out on that anymore.

jake walks beside you as you both make your way back to the office, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his coat. the lunch had been... nice. unexpected, but nice. and now, as the two of you walk in comfortable silence, he seems more at ease than you’ve seen him in a long time.

then, without warning, he speaks.

"did you know that if you fell into a black hole, time would slow down for you compared to someone watching from the outside?" his voice is contemplative, as if he’s only now realizing he said it out loud.

you blink, caught off guard. "um. no?"

jake nods, as if he expected that. "yeah. it’s called time dilation. the closer you get to the event horizon – the point of no return – the slower time moves for you, relative to everyone else. so technically, if you could somehow escape, you’d find that far more time had passed for the rest of the universe than for you."

you process his words, lips twitching. "so what you're saying is... if i ever want to time travel, i should just jump into a black hole?"

jake huffs out a laugh. "not unless you want to be spaghettified."

you stop mid-step. "spaghettified?"

he turns his head, eyes glinting with amusement. "yeah. because of the intense gravitational pull, your body would stretch into thin strands, like spaghetti. it’s called ‘spaghettification.’"

you let out a short laugh, shaking your head. "you’re messing with me."

"i swear i’m not." he grins, and for a moment, you see a different version of him – one without the weight of responsibilities or expectations pressing down on him. "the gravitational pull at your feet would be much stronger than at your head, so you’d get stretched out like a noodle before—" he snaps his fingers. "—being ripped apart."

you stare at him, utterly baffled. "what a horrifying way to go."

"oh, absolutely," he says, like it's the most natural thing in the world. "but theoretically, if the black hole was big enough, you might not even notice you’d crossed the event horizon. you’d just... fall. forever."

you don’t know what’s funnier – the fact that he’s so nonchalant about it, or the fact that he’s clearly enjoying this little tangent.

"so, the moral of the story," you say, crossing your arms, "avoid black holes."

jake chuckles, the sound low and genuine. "exactly."

for a moment, the two of you just walk, and you realize something – you actually like listening to him talk about this. there’s something comforting about the way he explains things, the way he gets lost in his own thoughts, his usual guardedness slipping away as he speaks about something he genuinely loves.

you glance at him, curious. you suddenly wonder about the jake sim you don’t know about. the one who apparently plays soccer and reads for leisure at home. what does he read? books on astrophysics? does he read fiction? does he have a favourite soccer team? does he still watch matches?

the more you imagine, the more you want to know.

who is jake sim outside of the brilliant astrophysicist you’re an assistant to?

but you don’t have to wonder too long. you’re already at the office doors and jake pushes them open first, holding them so you can step inside before him.

and that’s when jay sees you.

he’s standing near the entrance of the cafeteria, cup of coffee in hand, and the moment he spots the two of you stepping in together, his brows shoot up to his hairline. his eyes flicker between you and jake, and then – because he’s jay – his lips curl into a knowing smirk.

"well, well," he drawls, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "look who decided to have a little lunch date."

you freeze. "it wasn’t a—"

jake, to your surprise, doesn’t even flinch. he merely tugs off his coat, shrugging. "we were hungry."

jay’s smirk deepens. "uh-huh. sure."

you roll your eyes and push past him, but not before catching the way jay mouths "okay, i see y’all" at you behind jake’s back.

you ignore him.

you ignore the warmth in your chest too. however, if you know jay, you’d know that he’s anything but dismissive. that’s how you find yourself cornered in the printer room not even twenty minutes later.

jake had barely settled back into his office when you made your way to the printer room, hoping to grab some reports before his next meeting. it was supposed to be a quick trip – get in, get out, avoid any unnecessary interactions. but, of course, jay had other plans.

you didn’t even hear him coming.

“so.”

you nearly jumped out of your skin. “jesus—”

jay leaned against the printer, arms crossed, watching you with an all-too-knowing look.

you should’ve known. the moment you and jake had stepped into the office together, jay had been watching. his eyes had flickered between the two of you, brows raised ever so slightly, but he hadn’t said anything much at the time. which, in retrospect, had been a warning in itself.

and now, here he was, looking way too entertained for your liking.

“what do you want?” you asked, feigning nonchalance as you grabbed the stack of papers.

jay grinned. “oh, i don’t know. just wondering how your little lunch date went.”

you almost dropped the reports. “it wasn’t a date.”

“sure,” he nodded sagely. “just two colleagues, having lunch together, alone, outside the office, for the first time ever.”

you exhaled sharply, fixing him with a look. “he asked. i said yes. that’s it.”

jay hummed, unconvinced. “and what did you two talk about?”

“nothing special.”

“uh-huh. so, just to be clear,” jay continued, tilting his head, “jake sim—our very own resident workaholic, who has never once asked you out to lunch—randomly decides to do so today, and you think that means nothing?”

you shifted, feeling cornered. “jay—”

“because, and hear me out,” he interrupted, grinning wider, “it kinda seems like he’s making an effort.”

you blinked, lips parting slightly, but no words came out.

jay watched as realization flickered across your face, the way your fingers tightened around the papers in your grasp. and then he smirked, patting your shoulder before sauntering off, leaving you standing there, replaying the conversation in your head.

making an effort.

no. no way.

…right?

fourteen.

it started, as most things did between you and jake, with work.

you had long since grown used to your role as his assistant, leaving meticulous reminders on his desk so that he wouldn’t conveniently forget to review reports or attend meetings. it was a well-oiled system by now. you left him a note, he (sometimes) actually followed through, and the world kept spinning.

but now there was a comfortable dynamic starting to form between you two.

now jake would stop by your desk for a whole minute, greeting you warmly and in fact, he had started receiving his coffee from you at your desk itself.

there was always a polite but warm ‘good morning’ and ‘thanks for the coffee’ greeting you. and you liked it. you liked that jake would mirror your smile. the first time he had smiled at you – like, openly grinned, with his eyes crinkling – you had been blindsighted. you were probably too shocked to even return the gesture, sitting still for a whole minute, imprinting and memorizing the sight you had just been graced with in your memory.

turns out, you didn’t have to memorise it, because you were suddenly a regular recipient of it. every damn morning. well, it certainly was one reason to start looking forward to your mondays.

this was still jake, he was still the same old sleeves rolled up deep in calculations person inside his office. but when he passed by you? or when you entered his office? a permanent grin etched on his face. those eyes that had been focused on some report? positively sparkling behind his thick rimmed glasses.

he was suddenly starting to resemble a puppy in you reyes and the more you sneaked glances at him, the more you were concerned of this comparison.

so when you left a neatly written sticky note on his desk one evening—"reminder: review kang’s quarterly report before 10 am meeting tomorrow."— you thought nothing of it.

the next morning, you arrived to find the note on your desk. only, something had been added beneath your writing, in jake’s neat, slanted script:

"did you know that the universe is expanding at an accelerating rate? just like kang’s expectations."

you blinked. then blinked again. what the hell?

you turned your head toward his office, where the glass door remained shut, jake nowhere in sight. he had to have done this late last night. and he hadn’t even addressed your reminder – just hit you with a completely random space fact.

you thought it was a one time thing. maybe he saw the post notes on your desk and decided to leave one for the fun of it?

the next evening, after finishing up your reports, you left another note on his desk: "don’t forget to go through the intern evaluations before friday."

when you returned the next morning, there was another addition:

"forwarded you the evals.” below it, in his slightly scratchy handwriting was an addition: “incidentally, did you know that time moves slower in stronger gravitational fields? maybe that’s why this week feels endless."

you covered your mouth, suppressing a laugh. this man.

and just like that, it became a thing.

it started slow, with simple reminders laced with cosmic facts, but then it evolved. jake’s responses became more elaborate, slipping in more than just dry science.

one day, you left: "you need to approve the lab’s funding proposal by end of day. no exceptions!"

by the next morning, jake’s response was waiting for you: "did you know that some stars shine brighter when they have a companion? also, the proposal is on your desk, don’t nag."

your heart stuttered for an entirely different reason that day.

but jake never acknowledged it out loud. when you interacted in person, he was the same – calm, composed, occasionally brooding but never ignoring your reminders anymore. yet, on paper, in these little sticky notes, something else simmered beneath his usual cool demeanor.

it was a language only the two of you seemed to understand.

the next time you found a note, you stared at it a little longer than usual before pressing your lips together to suppress a smile.

"scientists believe there’s a ninth planet in our solar system, but we haven’t been able to find it yet. kind of like how i never see you taking breaks. go home on time for once."

like he’s one to speak, pulling long hours on days you leave on time anyway. regardless, you read it three times, warmth unfurling in your chest before tucking the note away in your drawer – right next to all the others you had kept. because you were keeping them now.

even if he didn’t catch you in the act of placing them carefully in one of your drawers, you had a feeling jake knew.

sometimes he was straight up funny, or so you thought. it was a side that you could usually only see through these notes because jake sim in person? he never said stuff like this.

once you reminded him of  a deadline: “the research proposal deadline is on friday. let me know if you need anything."

he replied: "there’s a giant storm on jupiter that has been raging for over 300 years. that’s still shorter than some of the meetings we sit through."

you had laughed. you had tried to be discreet about it but you couldn’t help the chuckle that had tumbled out and jake had caught you in that moment.

it was unfair, really. how easily he managed to make you smile. how effortlessly he turned something as mundane as sticky notes into something… else.

your cheeks had warmed up and very sheepishly, you looked away. but you missed the way jake had smiled to himself, pushing his glasses up and scratching his ears. cute, he had thought.

and proceeded to malfunction the rest of the day.

and of course jay noticed. of course he had something to say.

he started with jake first, because believe it or not, his friend was an absolute loser.

jay had been watching jake all morning. well, technically, he’d been watching jake for weeks now, but today was different.

jake was fidgeting.

now, jake sim did not fidget. he was the type of guy who could stare at a complex data set for hours without breaking concentration, but today? today, his pen was twirling between his fingers with a sort of nervous energy, his glasses had been pushed up his nose at least five times in the last two minutes, and most damning of all, he kept sneaking glances at your desk.

jay smirked, leaning back in his chair, watching the way jake’s ears tinged pink every time you so much as moved.

“oh, this is so good,” he muttered to himself.

jake ignored him, as he usually did. but jay knew the truth.

he wasn’t the only one who had noticed the sticky note exchanges. it had started small, easy to brush off as just another one of jake’s quirks, but then jay had seen you laughing at a note one morning, your eyes lingering a little too long on the writing before tucking it away. tucking it away. as in, keeping it.

jay, of course, had confronted jake immediately.

“you like her,” he’d accused one evening as they left the office.

jake had barely given him a glance. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“oh, come on, dude. you’re writing her space facts like it’s some secret code for flirting.”

jake had hesitated then, the barest of pauses in his step before he scoffed. “it’s not flirting. it’s just… facts.”

jay had groaned. “you absolute loser.”

the worst part is, jay actually reads one of those notes. 

you don’t even notice. he was leaning against your desk, waiting for you to find him one of those empty files you usually kept handy when he saw it. the yellow paper peeking out from under your keyboard.

you hear him scoff.

you turn just in time to see him pluck the sticky note off your desk, holding it between two fingers like it’s the most scandalous piece of evidence he’s ever seen.

“really?” he deadpans, reading the words aloud. “fact: the andromeda galaxy is on a collision course with the milky way. kind of like how you’re on a collision course with burnout if you keep staying past office hours. go home, y/n. – jake’”

he blinks. then looks at you. long. hard. smug.

you snatch the note back. “mind your business.”

“oh, no, no,” jay grins, crossing his arms. “this is my business. because you–” he points at you, then at your drawer, which probably has a whole stash of jake’s little science notes, “are clearly stockpiling these. and he” —cue the dramatic hand gesture in the direction of jake’s office— “is clearly trying to rizz you up with astrophysics.”

your soul leaves your body. “he is not!”

jay just laughs. “oh, honey. he is. and the fact that you’re keeping them? you’re down bad.”

you groan, pressing a hand to your forehead. “please shut up.”

“but like—are you guys flirting through the cosmos?” he’s grinning so hard, it’s physically painful to witness. “is this—interstellar rizz?”

“jay…”

“a universal love story?”

“jay.”

“gravitational attraction?”

“oh my god!”

fifteen.

it's been a whole entire month now. an entire month from the day you had been venting to jay about how you were just a paperclip to jake. a whole month since you quietly but seamlessly made your presence known in jake’s daily routine.

funny, how things change.

jake’s never been good with change though. 

it unsettles him – the way you’ve become this constant, the way he’s started to notice you in ways he never used to. at first, it was just small things. the way you always showed up in the lab before him, already setting up for the day. how you somehow remembered his preferred coffee order better than he did. the way your presence always lingered in the room, even when you weren’t speaking.

but then, those small things started becoming something more.

like how he started looking for you before even realizing he was doing it. how your voice, your laughter – hell, even the way you sighed when you were frustrated – started threading itself into the fabric of his days.

and the worst part? he let it happen.

jake liked routines, formulas, things that followed a set pattern. he liked knowing what to expect. but you? you were anything but predictable. and yet, somehow, you were still there, right in the middle of everything, shifting the entire equation of his life without permission.

how your presence had become something…expected.

jake didn’t like expecting things. expectations led to disappointments. people left, and routines shattered. he had learned that early on, and he had learned it well.

jake hadn’t meant to think of you. really.

he had been sitting at his desk, staring at the notes sprawled out before him, running calculations and double-checking measurements for the upcoming visit to the observatory. it was standard procedure – his advisor had asked him to review the telescope’s latest readings, compare them with the simulations, and ensure everything was in order before they proceeded with the next phase of their research. it was work he could do on autopilot, something he’d done dozens of times before.

and yet, he found himself pausing.

because for the first time in a long time, he didn’t want to go alone.

it wasn’t unusual for jake to make solo visits to the observatory – he actually preferred it that way. it was quiet, isolated, just him and the endless expanse of the universe stretched out before him. no distractions, no expectations. just the comfort of knowing that the stars above would always remain as they were – constant, unmoving, predictable.

but ever since you had slipped into his life, disrupting the structure he had so carefully built, everything felt different.

the observatory had always been his space. a place where he could think, where the world made sense. it was the last place he should be considering bringing someone else. and yet, the idea had wormed its way into his head and refused to leave.

he frowned, tapping his pen against the desk.

why did he want you there?

it wasn’t logical. you weren’t a physicist. you had nothing to gain from being in the observatory, nothing to contribute to the calculations or the data collection. the rational part of his mind told him there was no reason to invite you.

still, he found himself gripping his pen a little tighter, watching you from the corner of his eye as he wondered what you would say if he asked. but technically, he could use an extra pair of hands. he needed to cross check some numbers anyway, maybe you would be willing to help?

or is he rationalises his thoughts and actions as he finally makes his way over to you. it seemed, lately he had been doing a lot of that – seeking you out at your desk. 

“are you busy this evening?”

you looked up from your notes, brow arching slightly. “depends. are you about to ask me to do something tedious?”

jake scoffed lightly. “define tedious.”

you narrowed your eyes. “dr.  sim, you’re asking me to stay back after work. that email disaster was a one-time thing, but if you’re going to make me stay late to organize more files or proofread another hundred pages of data sheets, i will be charging overtime.”

jake huffed out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “it’s not that.”

you tilted your head, waiting for him to continue.

he shifted his weight slightly, gripping the edge of your desk like he needed something solid to keep himself grounded. “i need to check something at the observatory tonight. cross-check some numbers, recalibrate a few things.” a pause. “figured an extra pair of hands wouldn’t hurt.”

you blinked. “and i’m the extra pair of hands?”

jake nodded. “yeah.”

you stared at him for a long moment, trying to decipher his expression. you weren’t exactly well-versed in astrophysics, and you were pretty sure there wasn’t much you could actually do to help. but jake wouldn’t be asking if he didn’t think you were at least somewhat useful, he wasn’t the type to waste time.

still, something about this felt… off. not in a bad way, just unusual. jake rarely asked for company, let alone your company outside of work hours.

you leaned back in your chair, arms crossed. “i’m not sure how an assistant is supposed to be helpful at an observatory.”

jake shrugged, nonchalant. “moral support.”

you gave him a flat look. “moral support?”

“yeah. you know. in case i get emotionally overwhelmed by all the equations.”

you snorted, shaking your head. “right. that definitely sounds like something you’d struggle with.”

there was a glint in his eyes, like he was amused by your skepticism, but he didn’t argue. just watched you, waiting for your answer.

you exhaled through your nose, considering. the observatory wasn’t exactly your idea of an exciting evening, but… you couldn’t deny you were curious.

and maybe – just maybe – a small part of you liked the fact that he had asked.

“…fine,” you relented. “but if i get bored, i’m leaving.”

jake smirked. “noted.”

which brings you to now.

the observatory was quieter than you expected. it stood at the edge of campus, slightly isolated, its large dome stretching into the night sky, a dark canvas dotted with stars, and though you've never really considered yourself someone particularly enthralled by space, you can't deny the way the sight steals your breath.

in the center of the room, a massive telescope stands like something out of a sci-fi movie, its lenses gleaming under the soft glow of the control panel. but what steals your breath is the view beyond the glass ceiling – an entire universe stretched out above you, vast and infinite.

you exhale, stunned. “wow.”

jake watches you, something unreadable in his expression. “yeah,” he murmurs. “i thought you’d like it.”

there’s something about the way he says it – soft, almost hesitant – that makes your pulse skip.

jake was already setting up, his movements methodical. you hovered near the entrance, taking in the scene before finally making your way to him.

“so, what now?” you asked, clearing your throat.

he glanced at you, then gestured to a set of notes on the table. “just cross-check these while i calibrate the telescope.”

you nodded, flipping through the pages. silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. just the soft rustling of paper, the occasional click of buttons, and the steady sound of jake adjusting the equipment.

after a while, you looked up, watching him in his element. his brows were slightly furrowed in concentration, his fingers moving deftly over the controls. there was something almost peaceful about seeing him like this, completely immersed in his work.

“so.” you clear your throat, still taking in the sky. “this is where you go when you disappear for hours?”

“sometimes,” he admits. “it’s quiet here. no emails. no meetings. just… this.”

he moves to the telescope, adjusting the dials with practiced ease before glancing at you. “want to see?”

you hesitate for only a second before stepping closer.

jake’s hands brush against yours as he guides you to the eyepiece, and you pretend not to notice the way your skin hums from the contact.

you peer in, and suddenly, it’s just you and the stars.

it’s breathtaking. planets and constellations in sharp clarity, galaxies swirling in a cosmic dance.

“this is insane,” you whisper.

jake chuckles. “insane in a good way?”

“in the best way.” your voice reduces to a whisper on its own accord. through the eyepiece, you feel like you’re experiencing something intimate, only for your eyes. “i think i’m starting to understand why you like doing this work.”

you don’t know what motivates you to actually say it out aloud, but the comfortable silence that had settled between you may have been a catalyst.

jake laughs a tiny little laugh, almost quietly as if he wanted to preserve the sanctity of this moment. nothing but the hum of the machines surround you now and he can hear the way your clothes rustle when you adjust yourself to the telescope.

“it makes sense,” he said simply.

you tilted your head. “more than people do?”

his hands stilled.

for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer. but then, he let out a quiet breath, gaze still fixed on the telescope.

“people aren’t predictable,” he said finally. “science is.”

you set the notes down, stepping closer. “predictability isn’t everything sometimes.”

he turned to look at you then, something unreadable in his expression. the air between you felt heavier, charged with something neither of you could name. the way his gaze lingered made your stomach twist, and for a second, you thought he might say something – something important.

there’s a beat of silence before he speaks again, voice quieter. “you ever think about it?”

“think about what?”

“how small we are,” he muses. “how, in the grand scheme of the universe, we’re just specks of dust on a floating rock.”

you pull away from the telescope to look at him, but his gaze is fixed upward.

“you’re telling me,” you start, amused, “that we came all the way here so you could have an existential crisis?”

jake huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “no. i just—” he hesitates, choosing his words. “i guess i wanted to show you why i love this.”

you don’t know why, but that confession makes something tighten in your chest.

you watch him for a moment – how the glow of the dim lights casts a soft halo around his face, how his brows furrow ever so slightly in thought. the glasses sit on the bridge of his nose, reflecting the stars above you. how his eyes shine behind those glasses, holding things you didn’t dare to ask him about. the soft smile tugging on the corners of his lips as his neck craned up in familiar appreciation.

for once, you don’t feel like an outsider in his world.

“this is where it started for me,” he said suddenly, his voice quieter than usual.

you turned to him, curious. “what did?”

his lips curved, not quite a smile, but something softer. “my obsession with space. the stars. everything.”

you waited, sensing that he wasn’t finished. and after a beat, he exhaled, tilting his head back as if he could reach into the past and pluck the memory right from the sky.

“i was ten the first time i saw saturn through a telescope,” he murmured. “my mom took me to an observatory for my birthday. she—” he hesitated for a fraction of a second before continuing. “she wasn’t exactly the type to understand science, but she knew i loved it. so she made the trip just for me.”

you watched him, noting the way his fingers twitched slightly before curling into his palm.

“she let me stay up late,” he went on, voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “and i remember looking through that telescope and seeing saturn’s rings for the first time. it didn’t feel real. it was just this perfect thing, floating out there in the dark. and i thought, ‘if something this beautiful exists so far away, what else is out there?’”

you felt your heart twist at the wonder in his tone, the lingering traces of a child who had once stared at the universe with wide-eyed fascination.

“she sounds like she really cared,” you said gently.

jake’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “yeah,” he admitted. “she did.”

a comfortable silence stretched between you, the weight of nostalgia settling in. when he spoke again, his voice was a touch lighter. “anyway, that’s how it all started. one night, one telescope, and a planet millions of miles away.”

you smiled. “and now you’re here. making it your whole life.”

he huffed a soft laugh. “yeah, guess so.”

the two of you stood there for a while longer, the silence stretching between you – not awkward, not uncertain, just there. comfortable. quiet. something unspoken settling in the air between you like stardust.

and when jake finally broke the silence, it wasn’t with another question. it was with a quiet, thoughtful, almost teasing murmur—

“you know, saturn’s rings are actually disappearing.”

you turned to him, eyebrows raised, almost alarmed. “what?”

he smirked, a knowing glint in his eyes. “slowly, of course. give it a hundred million years.”

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small, amused smile that pulled at your lips. typical.

jake had been careful in his explanations at first, as if gauging whether you were truly interested or simply indulging him. but the moment he realized you actually wanted to listen, something in him loosened. the words started flowing, effortless, unfiltered. he spoke of nebulae and galaxies colliding, of stars that lived and died before the earth had even existed. he pointed out constellations, filling the silence with a quiet reverence that made you feel like you were standing on the edge of something infinite.

you wonder if anyone else has ever seen this side of him.

not the researcher, not the reserved and often too-intense scholar, but the man who could speak about the cosmos with a fascination so deep it bled into his voice. the man who, for all his cool detachment, still carried the kind of awe that made you believe in something bigger than yourself.

and that’s when it happens. that’s when you feel it.

that slow, creeping realization that something has shifted. that this isn’t just about your inherent respect for this man. no, it was more than that. sure, you had started this month with a reluctant motivation to make this person acknowledge your existence.

but now that he is? it does something to you.

a quiet, unsettling shift that settles deep in your bones, in the spaces between your ribs where your heart beats just a little too fast. the realization slinks in slow, insidious – like the tide rolling in, creeping past where you thought the shore ended, until suddenly, you’re in deeper than you meant to be.

jake is still speaking, voice steady and sure, filling the silence with his quiet reverence. you barely hear the words anymore. something about the life cycle of stars, about the sheer immensity of time itself – how the light from some of these constellations has taken millions of years to reach earth, how when you look up, you are peering into the past.

it should be overwhelming. it should make you feel small.

but instead, all you can think about is the man beside you. talking so animatedly, his lips splitting into a grin, his teeth biting into the flesh every once in a while when he pointed out another constellation to you.

the paperwork you were here for in the first place remained forgotten. insignificant, almost as if you hadn’t really been required for it in the first place.

because you realize, then, that this isn’t just admiration anymore. this isn’t just you being awed by his mind, by the way he sees the universe with such unguarded wonder. it’s not just about the way he listens when you speak, or how he’s begun to answer your notes with scribbled facts, or how he’s been looking at you lately, with something unreadable in his gaze.

it’s him.

jake, with his impossible knowledge and even more impossible depth, the way his fascination bleeds into his voice when he speaks of things so much bigger than himself. the way his eyes are fixed on the sky, dark and gleaming, reflecting galaxies you’ll never touch but somehow feel closer to just by standing here next to him.

and it terrifies you.

because this isn’t what you planned. you were supposed to break down the walls between you, supposed to demand acknowledgment, supposed to pull him out of that self-imposed solitude and make him see you.

but now that he does?

now that he’s speaking to you like this, sharing this piece of himself so freely, without reservation?

now that you’re standing here, heart stuttering in your chest, wondering if maybe – just maybe – you don’t want him to see you just as his assistant anymore?

the thought makes your breath hitch.

“—are you listening?”

jake’s voice cuts through the haze of your thoughts, and you blink, snapping back to the present. he’s turned toward you now, brows raised in mild amusement, but there’s something else in his eyes, too – something patient, expectant, like he’s waiting for you to catch up to whatever just shifted between you.

you clear your throat hastily. “yeah. of course.”

his gaze lingers for a moment, like he doesn’t quite believe you. but then he huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he looks back toward the sky.

“good,” he murmurs. “i’d hate to bore you.”

as if he could.

you don’t say it out loud. instead, you let your gaze drift up to the stars, to the vastness of everything above you.

and you let the realization settle, no matter how terrifying it is. because something’s happening. something has happened in the span of a month already. you have an inkling as to what it is, but you’re not going to admit to it. not yet.

the tiny voice in the back of your mind is here to support you on that cause it seems, chanting in tiny font: just an assistant, just an assistant, just an assistant.

but when jake shifts closer, his shoulder brushing yours ever so slightly, you’re not sure who you’re trying to convince anymore

sixteen.

the office is eerily quiet at this hour, save for the rhythmic scratch of a marker against the whiteboard. the usual hum of ringing phones and hurried conversations has long since died down, leaving behind an almost sacred kind of stillness.

you glance at the clock in jake’s office – 7:34 pm. way past your office hours, but jake’s still in his office.

jake should have gone home hours ago. so should you. and yet, here you are, perched on the edge of his desk, watching as he works through whatever calculations are currently consuming his mind.

you’ve seen this scene play out before, too many times now.

it used to be just an observation. a fleeting thought that it couldn’t be healthy to spend so many hours so completely submerged in work. but lately, that thought has settled into something heavier, something almost akin to concern.

he’s been stuck for the last twenty minutes. you can tell because he’s frowning at the whiteboard like it personally offended him, one hand on his hip, the other tapping the marker absently against his thigh. you can practically see the gears turning in his head, equations unraveling and reforming, one possibility after another spinning behind his sharp gaze.

you don’t know when you started caring like this. you really don’t.

but you do.

so, as you hover near his desk, watching him scribble something with an almost frantic energy, you decide – he needs a break. and you, apparently, have taken it upon yourself to make sure he gets one.

“dr. sim,” you say, but it barely registers. his pen doesn’t even pause. nothing.

with a sigh, you reach forward and pluck the pen right out of his hand.

that gets his attention.

he blinks, finally looking up at you, and you don’t miss the way his brows furrow, like he’s only just realizing you’ve been standing there this whole time. you would have laughed at the way he looks at you like a kicked puppy. like you just snatched his lollipop right from his hands. although, given the situation, that’s an accurate comparison.

“what are you doing?” he asks, voice slightly rough from lack of use.

“saving you from yourself.” you twirl the pen between your fingers, giving him your best unimpressed look. “when’s the last time you took a break?”

he exhales sharply, rubbing his temples. “i don’t have time for a break.”

you shake your head. “that’s not an answer.”

jake lets out a quiet groan, leaning back in his chair. “i just need to finish this.”

“that’s what you said two hours ago.” you glance at the clock pointedly.

his lips press together, but you see the way exhaustion flickers across his features. he’s wearing himself down, the way he always does, and for some reason, that doesn’t sit right with you anymore.

“you look like you’re about to fight that thing,” you tease, breaking the silence.

jake exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “might as well. it’s being stubborn.”

you tilt your head, pretending to examine the mess of symbols and numbers scrawled across the board. you don’t understand a fraction of it, but that’s never stopped you from trying. “have you tried… asking nicely?”

jake gives you a flat look, and you grin, making your way over to the whiteboard in question.

“or,” you continue, voice laced with mischief, “you could let me help. i’m very good at doodling. that squiggly line right there?” you gesture vaguely toward the board. “desperately needs a smiley face.”

for a second, he just stares at you, expression unreadable. then, to your surprise, the corner of his mouth twitches. “that’s not a squiggly line. it’s a sigma notation.”

“yeah, well, i think it would be a lot friendlier if it had some personality.” before he can protest, you lean forward, swiping the marker from his hand. with a few quick strokes, you turn the apparently very serious mathematical symbol into a little doodle of a face, complete with tiny arms raised in triumph.

jake huffs out something that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. “that’s sacrilegious.”

“it’s art,” you correct, grinning as you cap the marker and toss it back to him. “you’re welcome.”

he shakes his head, but there’s a softness there, something warm and reluctant in the way he looks at you. like he can’t quite believe you’re here, in his space, disrupting his routine with something as simple as a smiley face on a whiteboard.

like he hasn’t just surprised himself by not losing his mind over the fact that you just doodled on his very important notes. like he doesn’t even mind.

for a long moment, he just stands there, marker still loosely gripped in his fingers. then, with a quiet sigh, he lifts it and – to your utter delight – draws something beside your doodle.

he started with a small star in the corner – sharp, clean lines. then, next to it, he hesitated before adding another one. then another.

you tilted your head, watching him with something warm in your gaze. “what are you drawing?”

he glanced at you, then back at the board. “…orion’s belt.”

a slow smile stretched across your lips. “of course.”

jake didn’t know why the warmth in your voice made his pulse stutter, but it did. and when you stepped closer, your shoulder brushing his ever so slightly, he felt it even more acutely – the soft graze of fabric against fabric, the fleeting press of warmth before it vanished again

he doesn’t know when he started paying attention to things like this. the way your laughter fills up a room, how effortlessly it winds its way into the air, sinking into the corners of his office like it belongs there. the way you nudge him – not just physically, but emotionally, mentally, in ways no one else ever has.

he doesn’t know when it started, but he knows now that he’s in too deep to ignore it.

because right now, he’s standing at the whiteboard, marker in hand, with you beside him, doodling what can only be described as a catastrophically inaccurate solar system.

and somehow, impossibly, he’s smiling.

actually smiling.

he catches himself in the reflection of the glass across the room, and it startles him a little. he looks different. softer, somehow. the lines of his face, not weighed down by calculations or theories, but by something lighter. something he doesn’t quite have a name for yet.

jake doesn't know how long he stands there, marker in hand, staring at the mess of doodles you've scattered across his once-pristine whiteboard. he should be appalled, maybe even annoyed, but he's neither. if anything, he feels... lighter.

your laughter still lingers in the air, curling around the edges of the quiet like something tangible, something warm. and when you shift beside him, stretching lazily with a satisfied hum, he catches a faint trace of your perfume, something soft and familiar, something he has no right to associate with comfort but does anyway.

"i think we did some great work here," you say, stepping back to admire your collective masterpiece. "a true collaboration between genius and artist."

jake huffs a laugh, shaking his head. "you mean vandalism."

"semantics," you counter easily, nudging his elbow playfully. your touch is fleeting, barely there, but jake still feels it long after you've moved away. he grips the marker tighter than necessary.

you glance at him then, a knowing glint in your eyes. "alright, dr. sim. time for your verdict. did my artistic intervention help at all?"

he exhales slowly, letting his gaze sweep over the board again. and maybe it’s the exhaustion, or maybe it’s you, but he realizes that, somehow, the problem no longer seems as daunting as it did twenty minutes ago. the frantic mess of calculations, the numbers that had refused to align, don’t feel as suffocating now.

it’s absurd. it’s ridiculous. but somehow, your ridiculous doodles make the whole thing feel less intimidating.

jake turns his head slightly, watching you from the corner of his eye. you’re still looking at the board, a pleased little smile on your lips, completely oblivious to the way his mind is currently betraying him.

when did this start? when did you start creeping into his thoughts, into his space, into his carefully structured life with your easy laughter and casual touches? when did your presence start feeling like a constant, like something that belonged?

the realization unsettles him.

he clears his throat, looking away. "it’s… better."

your smile widens, and for some reason, jake has to fight the urge to look away again. "see? i told you i’m helpful."

he rolls his eyes, but there’s no real exasperation behind it. if anything, it’s just an excuse to look at something other than your stupidly pleased expression, which, annoyingly enough, does things to him he’d rather not analyze right now.

"well," you say, clapping your hands together, "my work here is done. i’ve successfully distracted you from overworking yourself into an early grave. i should get a raise."

jake snorts, shaking his head. "you’re already overpaid."

"lies and slander," you gasp dramatically, pressing a hand to your chest. "i should report you to hr for emotional damage."

he’s about to retort when you suddenly step forward, reaching for the marker in his hand. jake’s breath hitches – completely involuntarily, because that’s the only explanation – as your fingers brush against his.

it’s brief. a fraction of a second, really. but it’s enough.

jake freezes.

the touch is light, barely there, but his mind registers it in excruciating detail – the faint press of your skin against his, the subtle warmth of your fingertips. it’s nothing. it’s everything. it’s enough to send his brain into a sudden, inexplicable shutdown.

you don’t seem to notice. or if you do, you pretend not to. you just pluck the marker from his hand and uncap it, adding one final detail to your masterpiece.

jake watches, still unnervingly aware of the ghost of your touch lingering on his skin. his fingers curl slightly, as if trying to hold onto something that’s no longer there.

you step back with a satisfied nod, capping the marker with a flourish. "there. perfect."

he barely registers what you’ve added – a tiny shooting star trailing behind orion’s belt – because he’s too busy trying to school his expression into something neutral, something that doesn’t betray the way his heart is currently behaving like it’s lost all sense of reason.

silence stretches between you for a beat too long. jake wonders if you can hear it – the way his pulse feels too loud, the way his carefully structured composure feels like it’s cracking at the edges.

then, mercifully, you step away, stretching again as you let out a small yawn. "alright, for real this time. i should go before i become permanently attached to this office."

jake nods, not trusting himself to speak just yet.

you glance at him one last time before heading for the door but for a moment, you just stand there, your fingers hovering over the doorknob. then you turn, looking at him with something softer in your gaze. something thoughtful.

"you should go home soon too, dr. sim."

it’s the first time you’ve said his name like that. no teasing, no playful lilt. just quiet. just sincere. jake’s heart clenches, aching to hear you call him but his first name. but he doesn’t say anything. not yet.

and for reasons he can’t quite explain, it sends something dangerously warm curling in his chest.

jake swallows. he nods.

you smile – soft, small, something just for him – and then you’re gone, the sound of the door clicking shut behind you somehow louder than it should be.

jake exhales slowly, staring at the empty space you left behind.

then, finally, he looks back at the whiteboard.

the equations are still there, unsolved. the numbers are still a mess, waiting for him to untangle them. but in the midst of all that, there’s something else now. doodles and stars and smiley faces. a small, stupidly drawn solar system that doesn’t belong in a room like this, in a world like his.

and yet.

jake lifts a hand, absentmindedly tracing a fingertip over the edge of one of your stars.

and yet, somehow, impossibly…it fits.

jake wonders if maybe, just maybe, not everything in his world has to be so rigid, so calculated. maybe some things – some people – aren’t meant to be neatly solved, but simply felt. and as his fingers linger over the soft curve of your drawn star, he realizes, with quiet certainty, that you’re the first anomaly he doesn’t want to solve.

[controld3vil]

u love me and i love you

pairing: viltrumite!invincible x unrequited!reader

synopsis: Mark accomplished what his father couldn’t – he conquered Earth. Accepting that wasn’t the hardest part; living with it wears you down.

notes -> accepting requests rn for invincible! cw: canon typical violence, stockholm syndrome, power dynamic, angst, unrequited love, slight spoilers

In the original timeline, Mark does not turn against humanity. He survives Omni-Man’s attack and becomes Earth’s protector. Not only does he defy the Viltrumite Empire, but instead he teams up with the revolutionary cause to end it. Earth, more importantly, Cecil is more than relieved at how merciful their Invincible was. Because in every other version, he puts them to shame – that’s what you heard. 

The first time you heard about this dimension-traveling Angstrom Levy was from Mark. He doesn’t tell you much, only that he is from another dimension, wanting revenge on another version of him. The thought of that – even the moment when Mark voices Angstrom's plans to you, he sneers. The fact that this man was willing to come to your dimension to negotiate with your Invincible regarding the vengeance of his doppelganger was deceitful. 

“This is clearly a trap.” You spoke out, raising from your seat. Life after the dominance of the Viltrum Empire over your planet changed many things about how you viewed the world – life. Not only was Mark named Emperor, but he willingly took you along with him. Now you resided in the empirical castle of his terrain. Though still on Earth – it looked nothing like the place you were born in years ago. “He’ll take over our world and then the next.” 

“You think I haven’t thought of that before?” Your partner snaps, rubbing his forehead vigorously. Mark’s visage has hardened since the day he took over for the Viltrum Empire. No longer was he the sweet boy who left you little trinkets by your locker, or flew by your house for a quick visit to France. He had planets to look after. And now, you can see his ambition growing as he stares down at you with fierce intensity. “He proposed a deal.” 

“What kind of deal?” You crossed your arms, skeptical. Because whatever got Mark’s attention was something to be analyzed. It had been a long time since you’d seen him so genuinely interested in anything. The last time you ever saw him this intrigued was when Conquest surrendered himself to him. 

“The kind where I get control of other dimensions.” He simply puts it. It was a tricky business. You haven’t met Angstrom Levy, and while still wondering how he managed to contact Mark so quickly, you wondered why go through all the trouble to recruit him. To play foot soldier? 

“There’s always a catch to this kind of deal, hon.” You stride towards the wide window, spanning across the entire wall – showcasing the outside world, Earth, or what it looks like now. And every time, you felt a tinge of bitterness. “Can we really trust him?” 

“Of course not.” Mark lets out a frustrated groan, insulted by the fact you would question his judgment. But rather than say anything else, he turns his attention to where you are looking at. For a second, you speculated he would make another harsh remark but instead, you see him deep in thought.

You haven’t gotten to see Mark in a while – a few weeks you would gather by all the mayhem and disarray he can go through with the Empire. And every time you would try to bring it up, he wouldn’t give you a straight answer. Because since taking over, Invincible no longer became Mark’s secret persona. It became his identity, for the people of Earth and all other planets Viltrum had under their control. He was a reflection of his father, people would say. By how ruthless and uncaring he was of the millions of people perishing under the jurisdiction of the Viltrum Empire. Earth changed because of him, willingly allowing Viltrumites to conquer and destroy whatever was left of your peaceful home. 

You wouldn’t even call it home anymore. You’ve survived long enough to understand because it has been ingrained in your mind. The moment you surrendered yourself to the Empire’s mercy, you knew you would never be the same. Perhaps Mark was your saving grace in that, he kept you as a trophy wife. No one dared to touch you or attempt to talk to you unless it was under his orders. 

The longer you stayed in this confined position, the more you began to sympathize and accept Mark for what he was becoming. However, that did not mean you did not fear him still. He terrified you, and with his quick temper, Mark could eliminate anyone who had wronged him the slightest. 

“I’ll go through with his proposal. But if he makes the slightest mistake, I’ll gut him.” He says in seriousness. You can tell that even though Mark was confident in his abilities, Angstrom was still an unknown entity. In your world, Angstrom never even made it far to live tomorrow. He was already dead by the time the Viltrum Empire came and took over Earth. Seeing another version of him – more grotesque, and deformed made you wonder, who did this to him? 

The fire was everything. In every direction, Mark heard the cries of people, all running away from the very thing that caused it all. Him. It was not as if he cared to become suddenly aware of the miserable lives suffering under his wake. He’s dealt with this before, more likely than his other variants. Every day, in his world, he dealt with threats ten times more threatening than the damage he did to Chicago. 

He could not pinpoint why he was feeling a slight disturbance as he continued to do as he was told. Angstrom made it clear to destroy everything for as far as the eyes can see. The fact that he was not fazed, creating mass destruction, in parallel to his Earth again was enough to prove that Mark was no longer human. He was not the boy who wanted to protect Earth from Viltrumites and other unknown aliens. No longer was he shackled by Cecil’s control, recalling the time he nearly tore his ear to remove the chip that could set out a sonic alarm to paralyze him. No longer would he be the boy who lost to his father, Omni-Man who had previously brought terror and turmoil to Earth. 

He could barely distinguish the screams now. They all blended so seamlessly, it was like a symphony. He turned, facing the unharmed buildings, standing tall and brave. At tremendous speed, he flies straight through the remaining ones, allowing the collision of every building to fall on top of one another. Like a domino effect, they fell, quicker and more devastating than the next, crushing those around them. Invincible watched as the mass of people ran like ants in every direction to avoid the fall, but it was too late. It crushed everything, people, cars, streets, heroes, and rescue teams alike. Was this what he was looking forward to? 

“I got you!” A few miles where Mark hovered, he picked a familiar voice. It was close to the disaster he had provoked, but not so distant that he could afford to underestimate the owner of that voice. Your voice, he always felt, was like a gentle whisper in his wake, tugging on the memories long buried in his mind. It was soft but screamed velocity, panicked but stern affected by the chaos he created. Even in this universe, your voice – your comfort brought a hint of something unspoken to him. 

Then, he caught a swift glimpse of black and blue, a blur that left him momentarily frozen. 

It was him – from this universe, he did not adorn the Viltrumite uniform, white and gray. Instead, he carries the Invincible uniform, loud and proud as an unrelenting protector of Earth. 

He frowns, utterly disappointed at this version of him. 

“Hey! Hey – are you okay?” His doppelganger swoops down and lifts you by your shoulders. God, look at you. There you were, all the same features and colors. He remembers you like this, sincere and virtuous, willing to do what’s right to save others. Back then, before the Empire’s control, you always had a kind-hearted mind, always looking out for others, even when you didn’t have to. Because that was the kind of person you were. And despite everything he put you through, you’d still stay with him. 

“I’m fine,” You weakly smiled, gripping Invincible’s forearm like it was a lifeline. Your legs were hurt, not broken but badly bashed. Even though Mark knew he shouldn’t feel this way, he still feels bad for you – getting involved in all this. You knew no better than anyone else in this dimension other variants of him were going to attack. “Go – I got it covered.” 

He watches from a far distance, as you pull on a child’s limp arm, pushing the rumble away and lifting her against your shoulder. This world’s Mark stares at you with genuine softness in his eyes. 

“You’re hurt.” 

“I know but this is what I do Mark.” You remark sternly, glancing at the child’s face. She’s crying, dirt and blood dripping from her scalp down to her shoulders. He catches your sympathetic expression, drawing circles on her back for comfort. “You have more things to deal with–” 

“I just don’t want you to get hurt!” Mark exclaims, his grip not leaving your shoulders. He moves in front of you, careful of your fragile position. He’s beaten badly and parts of his costume are slowly falling apart. “I– Just be careful, okay?”

Viltrumite Mark sharply focuses on your affectionate gaze, unable to deny the connection between you two. It’s clear – Mark loves you, and his counterpart in this world mirrors the same devotion. The care and understanding you share with one another is undeniable, a kind of love that distinguishes itself from what exists in his world. In his universe, where he rules the Viltrum Empire, and you stand by his side, the love you share takes on an entirely different form. 

Of course, you love him, right? If your version has learned to embrace every aspect of Mark and Invincible, then surely you would feel the same in his home dimension. So why does it feel so different? 

You pressed a gentle kiss to Mark’s cheek, followed by a reassuring pat on the spot where your lips lingered. “Go,” You say, your smile widening, capturing your natural beauty even with all the dusk and debris fallen on you. “The world needs their Invincible.”

Mark grins, before letting go of you. With one last glance, he zooms off the ground and disappears. 

On Day Three, Mark meets with his other variants, hovering over his old home. Luckily, his mom, Debbie, was smart enough to desert this place. Angstrom called for it, yet none of the other variants seemed to know what it was about. But seeing it all – the major cities, all the people burning brought a smile to his face. His sick and despicable plan was running smoothly, only after a few setbacks, eliminating the weaker Mark variants, and now left with eight, he wanted to draw him out. 

But Mark couldn’t stop thinking. He couldn’t shake the thought of this version of – and you, The truth was, you looked so much happier than your counterpart back home. Your smiles were wider, your complexion brighter. What could he do to make you feel that joy? What was he doing wrong? Because everything he’s done for the Viltrum Empire, for Earth, was for you. He spared you the misery. So why couldn’t express the same affection had when his other version saved you? 

“Tell me something about the Viltrumites.” He remembers you asking some time ago. He’s taken aback by this, because never in all his time reigning, would you ask about his work. You knew what he was up to, ordering the Viltrumites with tasks, keeping Earth in check, and executing those who opposed his tyrannical rule. But not a single time since you came – surrendered, had you been so curious about his work. 

Even now, as you wear the Viltrumite colors, you look strikingly regal – an image so different from your usual style on Earth. You were his Queen, as the people often called you. But you never let their praise linger for too long. If you did, it would pull you back to those painful memories of the invasion, memories you fought so hard to forget. 

“What do you want to know?” he asks, his voice unusually soft, sensing that this rare moment is one of the few times he’s seen you unguarded – vulnerable and real with him. 

Accepting his proposal to stay by his side while he ruined millions of times for the sake of the Empire, made you despise yourself. Knowing all your friends and family were gone, you couldn’t look at Mark for weeks. Trapped in a grand castle, surrounded by Viltrumites, you felt like a prisoner – despite being named a leader in their eyes. You chose this path, and yet, you despised yourself for it. 

Over time, though, you began to accept it, as nothing would change with Mark in charge. He controlled the most powerful Viltrumites, along with hundreds of other planets filled with stronger soldiers. Resisting his cause felt pointless. Ultimately, he had given you a merciful way out, and you had taken it. 

“Your strongest soldiers, Thragg and Conquest. They’ve ruled before you?” You fiddled with a pillow on the couch you sat on. You were curious about Viltrumites in general. Knowing Mark for so long, you’ve asked about his heritage previous times, unaware of the implications of his future. 

“Thragg did.” Finally, he moved to sit opposite of you, on a sofa chair. This room – this entire castle – was supposed to be your home, but it never felt like it. Mark knew with the way you gripped the pillow, how your fingers tightened with every passing thought. He knew the internal conflict you were wrestling with. You were trying to make conversation, trying to push away the nightmares that seemed to linger just beneath the surface. It hurt him to see you like this – knowing that a part of it was his doing, 

“Then, he appointed me.” Mark continued, his voice heavy with a trace of something unreadable. “Or, rather, because I almost… killed him.” 

You hummed, sensing the weight of his word, and knowing how the events had turned out. “Do you think they’ll ever betray you?”

Mark’s smirk widened, though there was a cold edge to it. “Well, if they did, they would be dead by now.” His voice carried a dark, stoic undertone as if the truth of it had settled long ago. “So that’s why they work for me.” 

You leaned forward, crossing one knee over the other. Your elbow rested casually on your knee, chin settling comfortably in your hand, a soft smile curving your lips. “The Invincible Mark Grayson,” you said, the words carrying something harder to define. “Viltrumite’s Emperor.”

For a brief second, the armor around him seemed to crack, a flash of something vulnerable flickering behind his walls.

“Would you betray me?” Mark met your gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment. His tone was distant as if he was speaking to someone else entirely. 

You had thought long about that question. Would you? For months, all you thought about was leaving the Empire – to pursue your freedom. However, there were many moments in this place that you pondered over. In the wake of midnight, you always stayed awake, watching the Empire colonies thrive. It was the only scenery you welcomed because it was simply there outside your window. But after some time, you felt at peace with it, knowing that although the Viltrumites were cruel, they had their reasons to pursue what was meant to be on the top of the food chain. 

Many nights, you’d see Mark, lingering like a faint shadow. He never made his presence noticed but you always knew he was watching. He was afraid of your reaction – afraid you would push him away. That despite your agreement, he knew some part of you still rejected him. 

“If you asked me on the day I stepped into this place, then yes. I would’ve, in a heartbeat.” You tilted your head slightly, and in an instant, your tender look was replaced by the familiar, stoic mask Mark had managed to hone in on. “But now – I don’t even think betrayal is even possible. If I’m being completely honest, I stopped thinking about escaping weeks ago.” 

Your words shouldn’t have made him shudder so quickly, especially when he still believed there was hope in this kind of relationship. 

“That’s… good – I mean…” A subtle smile slowly creeps up on Mark’s face. Despite all the wrongs he’d committed, winning you over would relinquish all his pain and guilt. Your smile – you were the reason he can keep on moving forward. Without it, Mark wouldn’t be Invincible – he wouldn’t be anything. You are the glue that keeps him together. “That’s progress.”

It became no surprise to him when you told him you wanted to be involved in critical matters. Weeks after the conversation, Viltrumite Mark began to notice subtle shifts in your behavior. You became more open, more bold with questions, and began to act like yourself again. Old virtuous you, pestering more about his well-being than your own. It was charming how captivating you can be without even trying. 

Checking in on you became a gradual routine. You’d sit in your office, filing plans and paperwork with the other Viltrum officers while Mark strides around to make sure everyone is paying attention. You fell into the position of a commanding officer diligently, ordering soldiers twice your size to do tasks and dismiss the cold stares of those reluctant. 

For a while, he believed you had started to enjoy life in the Empire. 

That was what he wanted to believe in. But at the end of the day, you were human – not a Viltrumite. You’d seen the ways – the techniques how Viltrumites dealt with their prey. You were always the bystander, standing along the sidelines, staring at the hopeless be pulled out of their misery. You had no joy in what you did. You only did what you had to do to survive. 

Maybe that was the reason why you were still scared of him. Why do you never initiate physical affection or heartwarming compliments like your counterpart in the other dimension? In Mark’s world, you never got the happiness you deserve. You were merely a chess piece at his disposal. 

You never looked at him with genuine love. The only soft expression he’d receive were your smiles, short and innocent, as if treating him like an acquaintance more than a partner. Because that was what he was, right? You were the Queen, and he was the Emperor. 

[huldine]

I was originally going to put this in the tags, but then realized that I had about 3 pages worth of frustrated, pent-up emotions that were pouring out... and I might as well just add it to the post!

I feel so confused by the insanely pervasive headcanons that exist about Solas in fan spaces, and are repeated as if they're fact or canon in game-- whether to degrade his character or try to defend him!

I've played this game for almost a decade now and one thing that I always remembered and knew about Solas, was that he had an incredible amount of banter and conversation pertaining to ALL peoples-- whether dwarven, human, qunari, elven, etc. that talked about UNIVERSALS.

The Qunari baker who presses a single pinch of sugar in each loaf of bread as she starts her day? He speaks with such OPEN admiration of her, because he FAMOUSLY admires that resistance no matter who it comes from!! He admires and is interested in UNIVERSALS, despite his resentment and regrets about his own actions that reshaped the entire world.

He discusses faith with Cassandra, and admires the strength of her spirit and convictions-- even if he has disagreements with the Chantry itself, or the Andrastian faith and it's frequent attacks against dissent (especially towards elven communities).

He doesn't want to "bring back the old world" because he thinks that the ELVES are the best, or that he wants to kill every other race-- he wants to REVERSE the action that he made which fundamentally changed the world forever, and for the worse (in his eyes).

I truly believe that this (in my opinion) mischaracterization happens because of his race-locked romance, which gives this really strange habit of discourse claiming that "only lavellan opens his mind to the idea that modern people are actually people" despite him having a similar if not IDENTICAL conversation every other befriended Inquisitor! And you can believe that the conversation is condescending or offensive, but the fundamentals of it are the same for every race-- he grows to admire you as a representation of what the modern world (that he incidentally created) has wrought.

Solas is at his core a NUANCED individual, and that's exactly what makes his character so interesting and able to spark all of these discussions and discourses about his intentions, beliefs, and motivations. It is such a huge disservice to morph him into this simplistic individual that hates other people when he is genuinely a curious person, who sees connections of the universals between all people.

P.S (i ran out of space in the tags again...): If he actually hated other races or more specifically in this example QUNARI then we would not hate the Qun as much as he does. It is BECAUSE he dislikes the Qun because of it's (in his belief) repressive and controlling nature over the individuality of the soul, that we can understand that he 1) DOES see qunari (as a race) as people that have the same universals as himself and 2) ADMIRES the resistance that he can recognize within his own nature shared among people such as the Baker.

^^^ and this is NOT targeted against people that critique his interactions with qunari or beliefs about the Qun, because trust me as an arab I understand the parallels between this and a lot of anti-Islam rhetoric which parades right-wing and racist rhetoric beneath claims of "compassion."

This is specifically for people who reduce his character down to a simplistic headcanon that fits into a neat little box of "he just likes elves da most," ignoring the most fundamental aspects of his world view which are again based in UNIVERSALS, his own sense of morality and ethics, and most especially RESISTANCE against injustice.

Once again genuinely confused by people who claim Solas is obsessed with empire and elven glory and restoring Arlathan the way it was??

[multifangirll]

Late evening Adar thoughts: I like to imagine Adar was also part of the The Dagor Dagorath (Battle of all Battles) prophecy about the Middle Earth heroes and the Valar coming back to defeat Morgoth once and for all in the last battle, bringing life back into the two trees of Valinor and restoring Arda to it’s original glorious state, to simply put it. He might not have been remembered as any “hero” but he was to me. And to see him finally get revenge on Morgoth, the one who first caused his suffering and torment would be so satisfying and relieving tbh 🥺

Another thing… the tragic downside of the trop writers adding such a wonderful canon-like original character like Adar to the show is that he feels like a “forgotten hero” that is erased from anything the lore masters ever wrote and how they didn’t care to keep his name alive, because he’s an orc, a corrupted elf who isn’t worthy of any true acknowledgment from the actual “heroes”, even though he was very much worthy. The fact only a few would remember him, and the songs that were sung of him never left that small circle of elves who might’ve treasured his memory in secret. Even the offspring of his children probably don’t/didn’t know anything about him either. It’s just so sad that even when I think of wholesome hcs, I immediately get depressed because non of it matters in the end. He’s gone, forgotten, but at least we will remember him for a long time 😭

This can apply to the other original characters like Arondir, Disa, Bronwyn etc as well, but with Adar it’s different because of what and who he was and how his life ended so unfairly. He was literally RIPPED from us and we are expecting to just “move on”… it’s hard to deal with

[seumyo]

This is the first time I dare to do something like this, but I saw you were writing for Rook one of my favourite characters. So I was wondering if you could do something with a French!Reader, not necessarily a romantic one but someone who would understand what Rook says perfectly. It would be better if they spoke Japanese since their arrival and he doesn't know they understand him until they surprise him by responding.

ROOK HUNT ✰ UNDERSTANDING YOU

NOTE. This is so sweet, I’m clawing at the walls. Rook, my love (◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ) Thank you so much for this beautiful request <33 Also forgive me French speakers if the translations are rough/grammatically incorrect—I was fighting for my life against most online translators for this

You’ve always known that Rook had a way with his words. He was convinced no one at Night Raven College could fully appreciate his words, so he freely spoke his mind in his native language.

It became his way of processing emotions and, at times—his frustrations—without anyone understanding his deeper thoughts. Because of this, he was more unfiltered and vulnerable when speaking French, a luxury he thought he alone could enjoy.

That is, until you came into the picture.

You were seated in your usual spot in the library, books spread out in front of you as you studied, when Rook appeared seemingly out of nowhere. How does he do that? You could never truly know.

“Quelle concentration exquise! (What exquisite focus!) A sight you are, [Name],” he smiled, taking a seat next to you and peering over your shoulder to see what textbook you were reading.

You, exhausted from hours of reading and too distracted to think, responded automatically.

“Tu es vraiment bruyant, Rook. (You're really loud, Rook.)”

Pause.

Stop.

Rewind.

Rebooting.

“Ah-ha!” Rook almost cheered in glee, but you were able to stop him from doing so—because you were sure the librarian was keeping a stern eye on you two by now. He chuckled, murmuring this time, “Merveilleux. (Marvelous!) You speak French.”

“I—“

He, however, was already leaning closer, his grin full of delight—as if unable to stop himself from chatting your head off upon this revelation. “Why have you hidden this from me for so long? Ah, quel bonheur. (What joy!) I had thought myself alone in this vast sea of languages, but to know that you too carry the melody of French upon your tongue—it is as though fate has brought us together.”

Caught somewhere between embarrassment and amusement, you duckled your head, resting your head against your propped arms on the table. “Ce n'était pas intentionnel. (It wasn’t intentional.)”

“But why?” Rook pressed, tilting his head. He almost looked like a child—unable to hold his curiosity in one place. “Was it shyness? Or perhaps… a desire to keep your origins a secret? Oh, the mystery only adds to your allure.”

“I just... didn’t see the need to?” You mirrored his head tilt, now pondering why you never spoke much French when you got to this college.

He gasped.

“But why deny yourself the pleasure of our beautiful language?”

“Je ne sais pas, Rook. (I don't know, Rook.) Maybe I just liked keeping it to myself? I’m not really sure.”

Rook studied you for a moment before smiling, softer this time. “Well then, [Name], if I may be so bold… would you indulge me in conversation every now and then? It is rare to find someone who understands the true essence of our mother tongue.”

There was something warm about the way he said it, a genuine happiness beneath his usual theatrical flair. It’s that unfiltered, unparalleled joy of finding that specific connection with someone.

You said yes, of course.

And just like that, things changed.

Where before Rook had simply been another student you occasionally encountered and was in the same dorm as you, he now became a frequent presence at your side, always eager to chat. At first, it was strange—you weren’t used to speaking French so casually in this school, but with Rook, it felt natural.

“Regarde comme le ciel est beau aujourd'hui! (Look at how beautiful the sky is today!)” Rook says as you two walk through the gardens, gesturing delicately.

“Mhm, it’s nice out,” you replied, amused at his enthusiasm.

Or, when you were focused on something, he would suddenly appear beside you, whispering in your ear, “Tu as un esprit si captivant… Que pourrais-tu bien être en train de penser? (You have such a captivating mind… What could you possibly be thinking about?)”

To which you’d flick his forehead and respond, “Que tu es agaçant. (That you're annoying.)” He’d laugh as you continued, “Really, stop creeping up behind me like that—I could’ve elbowed you.”

“Violent, how endearing.”

He, of course, took it all in stride, laughing as if you had just paid him the highest compliment.

Despite his dramatics, you found yourself enjoying his presence more than you expected. There was something comforting about having someone else who understood your language, who could switch between playful teasing and deep, poetic musings without hesitation. It felt like home in a way you hadn’t realized you missed.

A friend that made you feel at home. As you did with him.

One evening, as you sat by the lake, watching the water ripple under the fading sunlight, Rook sighed contentedly.

“Tu sais, (You know),” he said, voice softer than usual, “depuis que je suis ici, je me suis souvent senti comme un étranger dans mon propre monde. (Ever since I arrived here, I’ve often felt like a stranger in my own world.)”

You were surprised by his change of tone.

“Pourquoi? (Why?)”

Rook smiled, but there was a wistfulness in his expression. “Parce que la langue est une chose étrange. (Because language is a strange thing.) It is not just words—it carries culture, memories, the very essence of who we are. And though I love the way words dance in many tongues, there is a loneliness in being the only one to understand a particular melody.”

You had never thought about it that way.

He really had a way with words.

And an even more

You nudged his shoulder lightly. “Tu n’es plus seul maintenant. (You’re not alone anymore.)”

Rook blinked, then beamed at you, warmth radiating from his smile. “Ah, quelle déclaration magnifique! (Ah, what a magnificent declaration!) My dear [Name], you are truly a treasure!”

You laughed, shaking your head.

“Ne sois pas dramatique. (Don’t be dramatic.)”

“But it is my nature!” he declared, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

You sighed quietly but didn’t move away.

You supposed that, just this once, you could let him be as dramatic as he wanted. Because Rook really did feel like he was home whenever he was with you, and that made his heart more contented than anything.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[little-jana]

"Time, Space and Love"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: nerdy rambling, inaccurate Doctor Who facts, kissing

Words: 1.8k

Summary: Spencer takes his girlfriend to a Doctor Who convention, and she absolutely adores how excited he gets about his favorite things.

a/n: This was requested by anon! I apologize for any inaccurate doctor who facts! Enjoy!

You weren’t sure what was more entertaining—the Doctor Who convention itself or Spencer Reid in his element.

The second you walked through the convention center doors, he lit up like a kid in a candy store, his hazel eyes practically sparkling as he took in the crowd of cosplayers, booths filled with memorabilia, and life-sized replicas of the TARDIS.

“You know, Doctor Who first aired on November 23, 1963, the day after President Kennedy was assassinated,” he started, practically vibrating with excitement as he laced his fingers with yours. “The show was meant to be an educational sci-fi series, using time travel to teach kids about history and science.”

You grinned, squeezing his hand. “Spence, you’ve barely been here five minutes, and you’re already in full professor mode.”

His cheeks flushed. “Sorry! I just… I love this stuff.”

“I know,” you said, adoring the way his whole face lit up. “And I love how much you love it.”

His hand tightened around yours as he pulled you toward one of the booths. The display was filled with sonic screwdrivers, replica TARDIS keys, and various versions of the Doctor’s famous scarves and bowties. Spencer picked up a Fourth Doctor scarf, running his fingers over the soft wool.

“This is screen accurate,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “The original scarf was made by Begonia Pope in the ‘70s, and legend has it that she was given too much yarn, so she just used all of it.”

You giggled, watching as he handled the scarf with such care. “You should get it.”

He hesitated. “Really? I mean, I don’t usually—”

“Spencer, you’re literally the biggest Doctor Who fan here. You deserve the scarf.”

His lips twitched in amusement, but he finally let the vendor ring it up. The moment he draped it around his neck, he looked so happy that your heart melted.

The day only got better from there. You followed Spencer through the convention, listening to him ramble about everything from Gallifreyan lore to the science behind the show’s theories. You didn’t care that half of it went over your head—you just loved watching him talk about something he was so passionate about.

When you finally dragged him away, it was to join a Q&A panel with past Doctor Who actors. You settled into your seats, and as the panelists spoke, Spencer whispered little tidbits of trivia in your ear. Normally, you might have hushed him, but here—here, where his passion was on full display—you let him talk. You let yourself soak in every word.

After the panel, you made your way to a life-size TARDIS replica. Spencer’s fingers trembled with excitement as he touched the blue wooden door. “It’s bigger on the inside,” he murmured, and you knew in that moment that this was magic for him.

In front of a full-size TARDIS replica, complete with flashing lights and the iconic VWORP VWORP sound effect, Spencer immediately pulled you inside, his excitement palpable.

“Okay, so in theory, if time travel was possible, it would likely involve some form of closed timelike curves, which are solutions to Einstein’s field equations—”

You reached up and kissed his cheek, stopping him mid-ramble. “I love you.”

He blinked, momentarily stunned, then softened. “I love you too.”

You laughed, looping your arms around his neck. “You know, I think I finally get why you love Doctor Who so much.”

“Oh?” His hands rested on your waist, tilting his head in curiosity.

“It’s about adventure, discovery… and love.” You smiled, pressing your forehead to his. “Kinda reminds me of you.”

Spencer’s breath hitched slightly, and for once, he was at a loss for words. Instead, he just kissed you, slow and sweet, right there inside the TARDIS.

“You know,” you said softly, reaching up to adjust his scarf, “I think the Doctor would love you.”

Spencer blinked down at you, taken aback. “Me?”

You nodded. “Yeah. You’re brilliant, and kind, and you see the universe in a way no one else does. If anyone deserves a ride in the TARDIS, it’s you.”

His throat bobbed, and he leaned down and kissed you again, right there in front of the TARDIS, surrounded by fellow fans. It was soft, reverent, filled with the same wonder he had for time and space itself.

When he pulled back, his cheeks were pink. “I think this might be the best day ever.”

And for that moment, time really did seem to stand still.

[victusinveritas]

comment that I'm replying to from @twinitiate:

-I lost my original comment because I clicked the wrong button, but... To my knowledge, the CIA never really made that much of an effort to hide their involvement (setting up little nationalist 'democratic' revolutions was just kind of what they did, for funzies and practice before the Big Nationalist Capitalist Democratic Uprising that knocked over Russia and...that didn't really go off like that but the Company could dream as it killed lots of innocent people in the process--the Soviets did the same thing where possible, it's what empires, regardless of their political bents, do to other empires).

Want to read a depressing book about this? Yes, you do (blog review here). Check out The Cold War's Killing Fields by Paul Chamberlin (review from The Nation here) or another book by Luthi (Cold Wars) To my knowledge, there isn't evidence (yet) linking Nagy to the CIA, he just got caught holding the bag. The Dulles Bros were definitely whispering in the ears of everyone involved that, "sure, now that the Secret Speech happened and Rákosi is being a total dictator [accurate, the guy was fucker, though not nearly as bad as his predecessor], like Stalin-level man, Comrade Khrushchev will totally be cool, like so cool man, with you forming a National Communist government that is more Hungarian than it is Soviet and maybe getting out of the Warsaw Pact and just being neutral in everything and then we'll totally help you out, man." Because that's what Voice of America was there for, just...not too subtly pushing people to throw of the yoke of their oppressor if that oppressor ultimately happened to be Moscow (if it wasn't Moscow, was it really a yoke? Wasn't it just a country trying to best by all of its citizens through the democratic process).

Nagy and co proceed to have a revolution, which...goes well until the tanks show up, and then it goes bad. The CIA meanwhile kind of looks on and goes "Well yeah see the problem there was you didn't have any tanks of your own. No we're not going to provide them to you! That would start a war, with the USSR, we're not...doing that, openly, because that's bad. We're just...pushing you to do it. Ya know, for your own good. And when we said help you out, we meant help you out out, like out of the country, if you wanted to leave when the T-54s went from being hypothetical to very, very, very concrete. But like you have to get to the border first, we're...not actually going in anywhere dangerous, we just...don't do that. It's not that we can't, it's that we don't want to. Also, good to know you've got goddamn Slendermnagy Pál, he'll definitely scare the Russians, notoriously skittish around tall guys as some of them are." The CIA says all of this while smoking cigarettes that may or may not be just covered in LSD which you wouldn't think you could smoke but it was a different time.

The Hungarian Revolution, along with maybe the suppression of the Poznan Protests, some strike-breaking in the DDR with tanks (coal miners if I recall correctly), Prague 1968) gave the Soviets and their supporters the name "Tankies" (not incorrectly, turns out sending in tanks to crush protestors is kind of a douche move--then again, so is bombing Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia to glass and then encouraging genocides and disappearances (looks at history books) shit, everywhere). Stupid and vaguely related little family story: My father was born in 1943, and told me once about his experience listening to the radio in Catholic school (he would have been 13) taught by a Hungarian priest who was absolutely weeping over both the Hungarian Revolution being crushed and the US doing nothing to stop it. The same priest ran them through a "Was it good to bomb Hiroshima and Nagasaki?" scenario that pissed off some parents (because he was like, no probably not anyway and definitely not Nagasaki) who had served in WWII and saw the bombings as saving their lives (at the expense of people who 'had it coming anyway because of Pearl Harbor'). Anyhow, whenever my father talked about the Cold War he'd always both preface and end things with "Nobody won, everybody lost, to think there was a good guy (and that it might have been either America or the Soviet Union) was woefully naive."

Cartoon by Bill Mauldin.

Tankies forever vindicated as the declassified information about JFK shows that the Hungarian Revolution was indeed a CIA-sponsored color revolution

[kiis1k]

LOTR Legolas VS. The Hobbit Legolas

Ok. so. I know i wasn't the only person who, when watching the hobbit, was very put off by Legolas' appearance. Elves are supposed to be eternally youthful and beautiful! So how, and why, does Legolas look so much different than he does in the original trilogy?

To me, it's not a matter of Orlando Bloom being 10 years older, because he still looks amazing (and always will that man is gorgeous), but it is infact a matter of COSTUME DESIGN.

Now you may be wondering, “Costume design? But the same people worked on both trilogies, it can't possibly be that different.” and you’d be right. The big details are consistent, with all the races of middle earth, across the Peter Jackson films. But it is the little details that sell something, and they were kind of botched in the Hobbit, specifically with the return of Orlando Bloom's Legolas

Lets start with a quick spot the difference:

whats stands out to the viewer immediately? the hair, for one, and then the eyes.

In the LOTR trilogy, the hair is much looser, and therefore, more free. it creates a sense of youth in a character that, because though he has a fair face, he is probably 2,000+ years old. There are multiple instances in which Legolas, and his compatriots, are in battle, and his hair gets fussy and frizzy and tangles. it's not perfectly done. He hasn't combed it 500 times until there aren't any bumps left. Because that's not realistic, and it's not his character.

The flyaways are what sell his youth, the messy little ear braids, random hairs flung over his shoulder, knots and waves from movement. Even when little baby hairs around the face fall down, all of this makes a character seem younger. and all of this was removed from the Hobbit version of Legolas.

His hair is combed back perfectly. It looks like he's put hairspray in it. His braids are tight, perfect, and lack any of the original fluidity. His hair doesn't have a single knot, even once he's done flipping and killing spiders and jumping over dwarves. This makes his character seem years, decades, or centuries older and more experienced than he was in the Lord of the Rings, which takes place like 80 years later!

The wigs, though they were beautiful, were not properly styled in order to retain the familiarity of the character we all know and love from the original trilogy. That's not the worst offense though. that goes to the eyes.

BECAUSE WTF IS THAT.

The costume department really failed here. In comparison with Lee Pace (Thranduil), Orlando Bloom's contacts were abysmal. I'm not sure what the aim was, but if it was to launch Legolas 10 miles behind the enemy lines of the Uncanny Valley, they succeeded.

I'm truly not sure why they didn't just keep his original brown eyes, since it is very difficult to get contacts to look right on such dark eyes, but I would have paid to be in the room when they made the decision to put this image out into the universe. The eyes are just so piercing that every time his character came on screen, it was one of the inly things i could focus on. its especially jarring because THRANDUIL'S CONTACTS LOOK FINE.

It just makes the character seem so plastic, and so much older and less kind than he was. but honestly, the hobbit kind of served as a character assassination for Legolas anyways. I have opinions on how he should have been portrayed, but that's a separate post.

Honestly, I'm just not sure what there is left to say here. everything that could be said about the eyes has been said, and we were universally creeped out by it, me thinks. so that's my excuse to move on the the actual OUTFIIIIIIITTTTSSSSSS but only quickly.

So technically, I'm nitpicking, but these things are important in my opinion! So I'll just make a little list to make it easier to explain and quicker because everyones exhausted at this point.

the clothes are too tight, and too restricting for a "warrior"

the cut in unflattering and cuts him straight across the body, which does nothing for him and makes him look frumpy? somehow?

they're also too clean. He's a warrior, not a councilman.

The collar of most of the clothing in the hobbit is too high and mature, and also restricts movement.

all of the restricted movement makes the character seem stockier and less agile than we know, and see, him to be.

Basically, he looks like he's wearing a costume. (P.S. it shouldn't look like that)

and also, NONE OF THE AFOREMENTIONED PROBLEMS are helped by the fact that the editing and quality of these movies makes even phenomenal costume designs, like that of the dwarves and of bilbo, look so, soooooo costumey. And also the makeup department is its own can of worms, mostly with everyone having zero flush, but oh well.

anyways. That's just me.

feel free to add anything i missed, or disagree, by all means! to me, i just found not only the character's demolished personality and strange appearance a little too much to be able to look past it and truly enjoy his presence in the movies, but i still love the movies.

[zeropro]

Skywarp: Origins - Chapter 2

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63945331/chapters/164272084#workskin

Skywarp was with the Decepticons before Starscream joined, and now we get a follow up to Thundercracker:Origins from Skywarp's pov. I'd love to know what you all think! I quite like with how this one turned out so I'll post it in its entirety here too haha:

-vvv-VVV-vvv-

Chapter 2

Thundercracker was Starscream’s friend, and that is the only reason Skywarp puts up with him. 

Why a cool guy like Starscream would have a friend as lame as Thundercracker is beyond him. The two couldn’t be more different! Where Starscream exuded confidence and charisma, Thundercracker was reclusive and brooding. Where Starscream could charm an entire room with only a few short words, Thundercracker always kept to himself.

When Starscream first joined the Decepticons, he had impressed Megatron with a huge speech in Vos and then walked right up to Skywarp and declared the two of them should be best friends!

Thundercracker spent his first night having a panic attack.

Skywarp did try to be nice at first, he really did! Might have even felt sorry for the guy. He thought maybe Thundercracker would eventually get over himself and come fly with them after a few days, or at least not just sit by himself in the rec room. Skywarp had no idea why the sad sap even joined the Decepticons in the first place. The mech was miserable, like, all of the time and never stopped worrying over pointless things like “making the right choice” and “doing the right thing.”

The worst part was: normally he could just ignore mechs like Thundercracker, leave them to their miserable self-inflicted processor ache, and move on with his life. Unfortunately for Skywarp, he liked Starscream, and Starscream liked Thundercracker, and he for some reason had decided to take responsibility for the soft-sparked moron.

Even then, it wouldn’t have been Skywarp’s problem if Starscream wasn't constantly complaining to him about it.

“He’s a loser,” Skywarp pointed out helpfully. “Just ditch him if it’s so much trouble.”

“Ha, yeah I really should,” Starscream would say. And then he doesn't.

-vvv-VVV-vvv-

Skywarp gleefully launches another missile into the burning streets below, the light from the explosion glinting off the black jet’s wings, painting his purple stripes an ominous gold. Flying through the smoke, he pulls out of his dive at the last moment, laughing as mechs scramble to get out of his way. He isn’t exactly trying to hit anybody, but he isn’t trying very hard not to either.

The Decepticons were going to drop a big bomb on Praxus tonight, and Megatron wanted as many of the civvies cleared as possible before that happens.

Watching the last of his bots escape, a warning from Skywarp’s chronometer pops up on his hud, reminding him of the approaching launch time. A few of the other Seekers start leaving the blast zone, having determined their sectors cleared. Skywarp wonders if he should do one more quick sweep before calling it quits. It had been a lot more fun when there were still law enforcers putting up a resistance and actual people on the streets to terrorize. Flying around over empty highways and sidewalks was much less exciting.

A larger number of jets are now leaving the city, and with nothing left to do, he flies up to join them. He would have loved to stay and get front row seats for the fireworks, but he’d promised Megatron he’d watch from somewhere safe this time. 

One Seeker didn't seem to get the memo, however, flying against the formation back into a cluster of buildings. Skywarp growls in annoyance when he recognizes the broad blue wings of Thundercracker.

“You've got to be kidding me.”

Skywarp’ll never hear the end of it from Starscream if Thundercracker got blown up. He swings back around to follow the blue Seeker.

Scanning the airways, his sensor net picks up movement below, but instead of Thundercracker, he finds a black and white Praxian with a red head crest dodging behind some rubble. A police bot, wounded and unarmed but still kicking, and as far as Skywarp is concerned, that makes him fair game!

Without landing, he switches to root mode and aims his last missile at the target below. 

The air around him suddenly explodes with a deafening sonic boom, throwing him sideways into the nearest building. Shattered glass rains down around him as he rolls into a rough landing inside. 

“Khaaa…augh, what the slag,” Skywarp groans, his audio receptors still ringing with static. Giving himself a few good smacks to the helm, he shakes out the last of the fuzz before glaring up at the mech responsible for the assault. Thundercracker had followed him in through the broken window and was wringing his hands in the most pathetically apologetic way possible.

“Sorry! Sorry, are you alright? I wasn't…”

Skywarp didn't bother picking himself off the floor, instead opting to teleport behind the blue Seeker and spin kick him in the back. Thundercracker lands with a satisfying crunch, the shards of glass making a mess of his plating. “There,” Skywarp says with a huff, grabbing Thundercracker’s arm to haul him back up, “Now we’re even.”

“Ugh!” Thundercracker shoves Skywarp off of him and stalks back towards the opening in the wall, miserably picking glass out of his hands. Skywarp bounces after him. 

“You must be stupid or something. Didn't you see everyone leaving? We’ve got, what—ten breems before Shockwave launches the bomb!”

“But what if there are still people down here? Mechs that haven’t evacuated…”

“Who cares? We got most of them! Hey!”

Thundercracker was already flying away from the building, still not leaving the city. Skywarp stomps his ped in frustration and seriously considers abandoning the mech to his suicidal quest. A new message on his hud distracts his thoughts. It was a comm from Megatron asking where he was, and then eight additional comms from Starscream pop up in quick succession. It got him thinking.

Was Thundercracker ignoring his comms?

He could respect a mech willing to flirt with death, even if it was for a geeky reason. Plus, it'll be really funny to watch Starscream try to hide his concern when he berates Thundercracker for being stupid again. Less funny if Thundercracker actually dies. Skywarp flags the messages as acknowledged without bothering to read them and kicks off after the blue jet.

As long as he’s there he can teleport them both out in time, so why not have a bit of fun?

He finds Thundercracker trying to move an entire building’s worth of rubble away from the entrance to some high-rise. He could hear muffled voices shouting from inside. “You having fun there?” Skywarp jeers, crossing his arms.

Thundercracker bites back a curse as his hand slips, a trail of energon smearing across the surface of the wall. “Why are you still here, Skywarp?” he grouses, stepping back to reevaluate his options. 

“Boo!” Skywarp pops into existence on top of the rubble in a pink cloud of quantum mist, making Thundercracker jump back in surprise. Lowering himself into a crouch, the teleporter cocks his helm to the side, fixing Thundercracker with a toothy grin. “Why do you think, numbskull? I’m here to make sure you don’t get your sorry aft blown sky high!”

Thundercracker’s optics widen for a moment before narrowing in frustration. “Then help me get those mechs out of there!”

“Why don't you just use your big boom to turn this rubble to dust?” Skywarp supplies helpfully.

“That’ll bring the whole complex down!” Thundercracker snaps back, voice raising with stress.

Skywarp plants a hand on the ledge he was perched on and lazily swings his legs up into a handstand before flipping himself down to the ground. “Why do you care so much? They’re just civvies. Nobodies! Besides, it’s their own fault they didn't get out in time.”

Thundercracker looks horrified. “How can you just say stuff like that?” Pushing Skywarp out of the way, he starts prying small pieces off the blockage one crumpled slab at a time. 

There is a desperation in his movements that Skywarp just doesn’t understand. “You don’t even know them,” he mumbles, starting to feel annoyed.

“That shouldn't matter.” Thundercracker replies, heaving a large chunk away. Energon drips from his fingertips. Skywarp notes the lack of progress being made. “It's the right thing to do.”

Aaand there it is. Skywarp rolls his optics and gives Thundercracker a hard shove, once more sending the mech to the ground. For a Seeker his size, he sure does fall easy. 

“You’re a sap, you know that?” Skywarp says with disdain, turning to the building. Starscream was still blowing up his comm unit with pings, and another new one came in from Megatron. If Skywarp wanted to not get blown up for some lame bot like Thundercracker, he might as well help speed things along.

-vop-

Skywarp lands with a splash. The ceiling had caved in, making the inside of the building more dark and more cramped than it should have been. Liquid cleanser spews all over the floor from a cracked pipe in the wall. Huddled by the blocked entrance, Skywarp counts seven bots: three minibots of some kind and the rest an assortment of four wheelers and science nerds. Upon his arrival, someone screams, “Oh Primus it’s a Seeker! ” and another starts banging on the jammed door, wailing, “Help! It’s gonna kill us!”

Skywarp licks his lips. This is going to be fun.

With a menacing growl he lunges at the group, most of whom scramble over each other in a panic to escape his claws. He manages to get ahold of two of them and with a -vop- deposits them outside.

Skywarp gives the speechless Thundercracker a cheeky wave before teleporting back in. He immediately loses his footing on the slick floor and falls backwards just as one of the larger mechs holding a lead pipe takes a massive swing at where his helm had been. Skywarp laughs, catching his fall with one arm and windmilling his legs around to sweep the big bot off his peds. 

The other big guy pounces on him, grabbing Skywarp’s arms and forcing him down. “Ow! hey!” He yelps as the one on the floor throws himself on top to help hold him down. Seems like the civvies can fight after all!

“Skywarp?” Thundercracker’s muffled voice can be heard calling from outside. Skywarp decides to make this his problem and teleports outside with both bots still clinging to his frame.

Thundercracker is ready with his blaster and fires two warning shots, close enough to scorch armor. Realizing they are now outside, the smaller of the two bots immediately bolts, running for his life. The other one drops to the ground, shaking and crying in a disgusting heap. 

“Woop! Thanks!” Skywarp laughs. “Have fun with that .” He gives the cowering mech a kick before leaving Thundercracker to deal with the mess.

Back inside, he’s curious to find the room completely empty. Skywarp hums, deciding on how he wants to play this game. Slowly, emphasizing the heaviness of his footsteps, the Seeker begins stalking the parameter of the destroyed lobby. “Come out little things,” he calls out in a sing-song voice, “I just want to plaaaay!”

In one swift motion he grabs the edge of a counter and forcefully pries the entire thing from the ground, hurling it loudly against the opposite wall. His sudden violent outburst is rewarded by a startled whimper, identifying the minibots’ hiding spot.

“Ah ha! There you are!”

-vop-

Cackling victoriously, Skywarp descends on the screaming minibots as they scatter. Snatching up one in each hand, he heads back outside and launches one at Thundercracker’s head while the other gets rolled down the street. Thundercracker, to his credit, reacts fast, fumbling to catch the living projectile as Skywarp vanishes from sight.

The final minibot sat in the middle of the flooded room in tears. “Last one!” Skywarp crows, grabbing her from behind and jumping them both straight up high over the city. 

With a quick spin, Skywarp throws the bot as far away from him as he can manage! After a moment of terrified screaming, he watches her finally transform into some sort of drone copter and whizz away as fast as her little rotary blades can carry her. Skywarp almost cries from laughing so hard; this had definitely been worth sticking around for!

His mirth is cut short by a firm smack to the helm. 

“Hey! What gives?!” Skywarp whips around, expecting to be confronted by Thundercracker’s annoying kill-joy attitude. He is instead greeted by a very irate Starscream. “Oh! Hi Screamer!” he says, smiling as sweetly as a newspark who’s never done anything wrong before in his entire function.

Starscream looks ready to hit him again, clearly not in the mood. “If you're quite done, Skywarp, we have exactly one breem to find Thundercracker and clear the blast zone! You two are the only ones that have not reported in!”

Skywarp clasps both his hands against his cheeks and makes an exaggerated gasp sound, “Starscream! Don’t tell me you were worried about me!” 

“Oh for crying out—!”

Skywarp laughs as Starscream makes a grab for him, diving back down to where Thundercracker had been.

It didn’t take long for them to locate their third, still scouring the streets for energy signals.

Skywarp had been correct: the poorly-concealed concern wracking Starscream’s frame as he berated Thundercracker was hilarious! The normally unflappable Seeker’s wings were hiked so high up on his back it looked as though they might fly away without him! As for Thundercracker, it was as though a switch had flipped in his processor the moment he saw Starscream rushing at him. Soon, he was the one insisting they should get to safety while Starscream wouldn’t stop going on about ignoring his comms and putting all three of them in danger in the first place. It was unfortunate that the show had to be cut short. They had run out of time.

With a contented smile, Skywarp slung an arm around each mech’s shoulders and warped all three of them away.

That night, Praxus fell. The explosion was spectacular, and the Decepticons all got charged on the city’s high-grade. Thundercracker sat by himself as always, and Skywarp didn't pay him any mind. He was Starscream's friend, after all.

[yomithots]

Confessions: Zayne

A/N: My first fanfic that I'm posting!!! I wrote this for Valentine's day for some friends of mine that are Zayne mains <3 I hope you like it!

Tags: SFW, Fluff, Sweet, Confession, Date, Comforting, Romantic Feelings, Winery, Camping, Dinner date Word count: 4k Synopsis: You have growing suspicions of Zayne's feelings for you. What's funny is how he gradually lowers his iron walls and slips up in showing you affections. He bites the bullet to take you on an extravagant date to tell you how he feels.

⋆⁺₊❅. ────・˚₊‧ ❄ ☃︎ ❄ ‧₊˚・──── ⋆⁺₊❅.

How long has it been? Zayne can’t pinpoint the start of his feelings; all he knows is that his pining has lasted longer than just “years”. To him, his attraction to you is something so profound, indescribable even. For how long and how deep he’s been yearning, it doesn’t feel like it started in this lifetime, no, it’s as if the affection Zayne holds exists beyond him. Like it’s the fuel to his soul. No matter how painful his chest aches for you, he refuses to give an inkling of a clue to how deep his feelings run. That’s just too much for him to handle—too vulnerable. That, however, doesn’t mean that you haven’t caught onto his longing. 

You also can’t remember when you first started suspecting his feelings, but in terms of being observant, two can play that game. It’s practically a requirement to be a hunter, afterall. You have always known that Zayne was very gentlemanly, but he was particularly chivalrous to you—even if it took a while to confirm your suspicion. He would never fail to bring flowers for special events, he always opens and closes the car door, he buckles in your seatbelt himself, offers a hand to step out of the car, buys dinner and lunch at random, walks on the hazardous side of the street, stands behind you on the escalator when you wear shorts or skirts…the list goes on. While these habits are very mindful, you have always thought that he’d do these things for just about every woman, since those around him seem to respect Zayne to a high degree. Everyone has nothing but good things to say. None of his colleagues even comment about his stoic and prickly demeanor, so you originally thought that Zayne was just cold to you, even though his actions say otherwise. 

This train of thought lasted a while until you witnessed a small event. This was the beginning of you honing your focus on Zayne’s chivalrous habits. It was something no one else would bat an eyelash to, even if they were frequently around the doctor. There was a small end-of-year party that you were invited to at Akso Hospital. Having gotten there early and not being hospital staff, you volunteered to help set up decorations because everyone else was still on the floor, helping patients. Zayne and his colleague, nurse Yvonne, were in charge of picking up the food for the party. Yvonne was someone who you have known since Zayne became your PCP. She’s particularily mentioned her respect for the skillful surgeon to you in the past. This is just to say that because Dr. Zayne and nurse Yvonne work closely together, you figured that she would get similar (if not the same) treatment as you. This was until you were peering out of a window into the parking lot when you noticed Zayne and Yvonne had returned. Both the doctor and nurse had exited the car as normal people would, but Yvonne in particular seemed to be struggling to collect and balance the food to take inside. You witnessed Zayne just standing and staring at the nurse and you think the most he did was ask, “got it?”, not that you particularly heard him say it, but you saw his mouth move and Yvonne nod yes. Again, this wasn’t a specifically out-of-place event, but to you it just seemed off. About ten minutes later, Yvonne walked into the room by herself with stacked pizza boxes and bags of food hanging from her arms. You went to her to take some of the weight off. 

“Where did Dr. Zayne go?”, you ask.

“Oh, he said he needed to stop by his office first to pick up some treats he brought for the party”, Yvonne replied.

You thought it was weird for him to let someone struggle to bring food a decent way, but maybe he just needed some space away from the smell? You weren’t quite sure. He’s still a human at the end of the day and has boundaries for himself. However, outside of this event, you became hyper-aware that he doesn’t open doors for others, he doesn’t buy people meals at whim, he doesn’t walk on the hazardous side of the walkway for friends, doesn’t offer flowers to his colleagues on special events, nor does he stand behind other women on escalators. All of this was solely for one person.

Time went by and you started to pick up on more instances where Zayne doesn’t act the way you’re typically used to. Not only that but you would catch his gaze only for him to look away with blushed ears. There was once when Zayne was staring at you at a cafe, and you caught him red-handed through the reflection of a window. He didn’t realize that you could see him staring, but the look on his face was as if he was in a trance, and honestly, that was just absolutely adorable. That was not the only instance of affection that you noticed either. The Doctor often looked enamored with you but it can only be seen in reflections that Zayne was unaware of. When walking side by side, his hand often brushed against yours, but he didn't say nor do anything about it. You’d look and see the top of his cheeks and ears kissed with deep shades of pink when you glanced over at him. Sometimes the blush extended down his neck, but he still stayed radio silent about it. During the winter season, he wrapped you in his coat to keep you warm. He made sure his jackets were graced with his body heat first to keep you from getting sick, but to you, it felt like an extra layer of intimacy. This bliss lasted a while. Slowly but surely, Zayne’s endearment would become more apparent, more bolder, even. You dared not say anything though, because you wanted to give Zayne the time he needed to build courage to share his feelings. He is the definition of a “slow burn”, afterall.

It took the icy man the majority of the year to muster up his courage to finally confess to you—it had already become the next winter season when he decided. Being aware of the amount of time it took him to prepare, Zayne absolutely made sure it was worth the wait.

–

Zayne: I’ll pick you up at 12.

Zayne: Make sure you’re wearing comfortable shoes, we’re going to be out all day.

–

There was a surge of anticipation in your chest. A week ago, Zayne asked if you had a day off or could request for one to match up schedules. He said he felt like having a day trip and insisted that you join him no matter what. “Think of it as a simple date”, Zayne cooed every time you tried to pry him for details. Other than day and time, he kept the itinerary all to himself. He was mindful to remind you about the date for the whole week, though. Just as the idea faded into the background, he kept you on edge of anticipation while waiting for this mysterious day. Despite the frustration, it got you excited for what was to come.

Finally the day arrived, and you were doing your final outfit check in the mirror. A long, white silk dress that rested against the curves of your body just right. Nothing revealing, but enough to seduce. To accompany that—and to keep warm—a knitted baby blue cardigan that tied in the front and a long, gray wool overcoat topped the dress. Your hair was softly curled. It was adorned with a pearl barrette and other complimentary accessories and you were careful not to make it look overdone. Finally, just like Zayne requested, you wore comfortable white, pointed flats with a thin strap that wrapped around your ankles. A beige shoulder minibag tied the look together. Satisfied with the date outfit, you murmur to yourself in the mirror.

“Pretty girl!” You monologue, as you spritzed a jasmine-note perfume on both wrists. 

12 o’clock on the dot, there was a knock on your door. You anticipated it was Zayne, but you were expecting him to just send you a text saying he arrived. Rushing to the entrance, you open the door to see Zayne holding a bouquet of flowers with a little gift bag wrapped around the base. He was wearing a black, extended overcoat with a silver tie displayed underneath and clipped to it was the tie pin you gifted him last Christmas. His shirt was a navy blue button up that was neatly tucked into black slacks. You also noticed him wearing leather dress shoes with intricate designs carved into them. To top it all off, his hair was styled into a side part with some of his cute forehead peeking through. In front of you was a sleek man who was dressed to impress…to impress you, that is. It took a second to process exactly what was going on, but the longer you stared at Zayne, the more overwhelmingly handsome he became. Quickly, your emotions were overtaken by happiness and excitement. Your cheeks flushed red and your voice was caught in your throat. 

Zayne looks at you with his signature smirk-smile and called out to you, “Are you ready to go?”. The stylish man’s voice was music to your ears. It was deep and soothing and it brought you back to your senses. He held out an arm for you to grab so he could escort you out to the car like the gentleman he was. You take his arm after locking your apartment door and together, you take a stroll back to Zayne’s car that was parked right in front. He opened the door for you and offered his hand to hold your things as you settled in. He then buckled you in himself—his face became alarmingly close to yours. His breath felt warm on your lips as your eyes searched for his. He gently smiled and placed the bouquet in your lap. “For you”, he said as he placed your bag in the back of the car. He reappeared by your side in the driver’s seat and gave a reassuring glance just before pulling off to your mystery destination. 

The car ride was comfortable. There was classical music playing softly into the air as you guys engaged in small talk—something Zayne normally doesn’t care for, but he’s doing it for you. In the middle of conversation, you remember the little present that Zayne gave you. You hurried to open it on your lap and found a jewelry box that was velvet to the touch. When you opened it, there was a bright, topaz-stoned snowflake necklace shining in the winter sun that peered through the car window. It was absolutely gorgeous.  

“Wow, Zayne, this is stunning”, you praised.

“I’m glad you like it. Don’t put it on just yet, let me do it for you. We’re close to our first stop”. 

On cue, Zayne drives the car down a country road that leads straight to a winery. Zayne gestures for you to wait in the car. Mister Romantic got out of the vehicle and grabbed your bag from the back seat, then made his way to your car door to open it. He’s done this for you so many times by now, but this time feels more meaningful compared to before. The doctor extended his hand, providing the ultimate royalty treatment. Once standing, he leaned in for the necklace he lovingly prepared. His hands, so big and warm, carefully brushes aside your hair from the back of your neck and thumbs a soothing stroke across your skin. Zayne stared for a minute, longing to place a gentle kiss right on the spot he rubbed. At this point, you’re praying that the heat rising in your body doesn’t become apparent to the man behind. You focused on keeping your breath steady and heart calm, but the nervousness didn’t quite go away. Every movement that Zayne made was electrifying as no one’s ever been this intimately close before. Even though the action of putting on the necklace only took seconds, with how aware you were of his fingers grazing against your skin, and every breath that cools the back of your head, the moment felt like it lasted an eternity. 

“The necklace is on. Will you let me see?”.

You do a little twirl and once face to face, you flaunted him a bashful smile and prodded him, “So… How do I look?”. 

Zayne froze for a while, his eyes were taking in the sight that was you; he committed it to memory. The necklace twinkled brightly on your chest as your hair billowed in the crisp winter air—the sun illuminated a golden glow that surrounded your body. To Zayne, you were a masterpiece to be admired and to never be touched or tainted. The sounds of him clearing his throat interrupted his gawking session; his voice got stuck as he was crushing on you. 

“It looks good. You’re beautiful”, He said simply. 

Despite how nonchalant he tried to appear, he could not hide the fact that the color red dusted his neck and ears. You couldn’t help but giggle to yourself. The well-composed and dashing Dr. Zayne had just lost his composure and it was because of you. There was no “challenge accepted”, but it felt like you’ve just won in life. With your newfound confidence, you dazzled Zayne with your brightest smile, took his hand, and led him into the building.

The afternoon was perfect and filled with laughter between the two of you. Zayne managed to let loose for once, and it was obvious that he enjoyed it. You guys went through wine tasting while sharing samples to avoid getting drunk. This was especially since Zayne can't hold his alcohol and he had to drive safely. You were curious as to why Zayne chose a winery as a destination given his circumstances. Apparently, he planned to visit Dr. Noah in the Arctic next week for a birthday celebration. He didn’t want to show up empty handed or with cheap wine—no—Zayne wanted it to be special since his mentor has done so much to support him in his life. 

“Well, there’s another reason too”, Zayne started.

You looked at him from across the table, awaiting his response; your eyes were lustered with curiosity. You swirled your wine glass and took one last swig before listening.

“You’ve been stressed for a while and I thought it would be nice for you to relax” Zayne paused. His hand formed a fist and his face became focused. “I wanted to care for you today. It’s not often we get to enjoy life like this, especially not together. I’ve been reflecting on myself recently, and I felt like I should try to live outside my normal routine once in a while…especially for you. Because I want you to live a fulfilled life when you’re with me”, Zayne looks down toward your empty wine glass. You were slightly taken aback. Today it felt like you were experiencing new sides of Zayne you’ve never thought were in him. He was firm in his voice, and you can’t help but be charmed by how enamored he sounded with the idea of sharing a story together. You lean your elbow on the table and propped your head up, looking at Zayne with expectant eyes.

“So you mean to say that you’re going to treat me to more days like these in the future, Doctor Zayne?” your smile twinkled in his eyes.

“I absolutely will”, he returned a confident smirk. 

Zayne looked down to his watch and got up from the table. He then extended his hand, gesturing that it was time to leave. “Let’s go. There’s still one more place I want to take us”. 

In contrast to his normally cold demeanor, Zayne had finally smiled warmly at you. It was a beautiful sight only meant for your eyes. You grabbed his hand and didn’t let go of it as you both amble back to the car. 

The next destination was a place closer to home, but still a little ways away. As you pulled in, you noticed that this is a campsite. What was Zayne thinking to bring you…camping? After parking, Zayne’s warm hands enveloped yours as he led you to the second destination. You saw glowing lights from the distance and couldn’t help but wonder if that was where you were headed. Upon closer inspection, there were strings of lights hanging off the edge of a veranda, the area was properly isolated to withstand the chill of the winter season—it was a heartleft setup for something that was supposed to be written off as a “simple date”.  You pause for a second to take in everything that Zayne prepared. You figured that from the winery, the next destination was a restaurant, and that would have been perfectly satisfying, but this was much more than you expected. There were vintage light bulbs lining the roof, then you picked up on the sheer curtains with fairy lights peeking through and decorated the walls from indoors. Continuing your investigation, there was another vase of white flowers peering at you through the open door. The vase was standing on top of a dainty, wooden table that had a baby blue table cloth draped across. Then there were two plates and matching cutlery to accompany them, creating the perfect dinner set on the table. A picnic blanket was laid neatly on the floor and it was garnished with cute pillows and a snowman plush. You felt heat radiating from within the camper, gracing your frosted face with warmth. Your heart melted at how much effort was put into this project, how much of Zayne offered himself, again, for you. 

Your admiring session was interrupted with soft pressure under your chin—Zayne closed your jaw shut. Coming to the realization that your mouth was agape while staring, your cheeks blush pink with embarrassment.

“Can I take your expression as you liking this?” Zayne let out a small chuckle. 

You gave him an enthusiastic nod as he grabbed your hand again. Together, you headed in and Zayne took your coat and bag so you could settle in. You sat down on the picnic blanket beside your snowman friend. You recognize that it was the one that you and Zayne had won together on the first day you visited the arcade with him. Reminiscing about fond memories, you scoop Mr. Snowman into your lap and squish his cheeks. Being preoccupied with cuddle time, the next time you looked around, you saw dinner set up for two on the table. The smell of sirloin steak and truffle pasta waft your nose, no carrots in sight. You had to put Mr. Snowy to the side.

“Zayne, this looks amazing! My mouth is watering, let’s dig in?” You look at him expectantly, waiting for his signal.

Zayne matches your energy, “Let’s dig in”.

The both of you indulge in a decadent meal. Once again, the air was filled with laughter and chimes of wine glasses that were filled with a non-alcoholic beverage. The topaz snowflake that decorated your neck gleamed, even in the dim lighting. The vibes were perfect, and there was nothing that could replace how precious this moment was for the both of you. 

As dinner ended, you insisted on helping Zayne with clean-up. He tried to convince you that you didn’t have to, but he quickly understood that trying to change your mind wasted precious time that he would rather spend together. He gave in and let you do as you please. Once everything was put away, you both wallowed into a cozy nook in the corner of the camper which had a projector screen across from it. Rather than watching movies, however, you both curated a queue of songs to listen to as you chat. The music hummed quietly as you curled up next to Zayne, his arm hung over your lap. Immersed in conversation, the topic of your reunion was brought up. There were many things you and Zayne had to say to each other, and slowly, tension arose: the air became thick.

“How did you feel when you saw me for the first time after so many years?” you prompted.

The doctor became still. The silence lasted a long while, but you didn’t budge; you gave Zayne space to collect his thoughts. After about five minutes, he sighed and swallowed.

“I cannot describe my emotions very well, honestly. There were many all at once—too many.” Zayne paused.

“Even though my feelings were complex then, what I can say now is that I’m glad it happened.” Zayne took a moment to grab the controller and paused the music. He turned his whole body towards you. Hesitantly, he took one of your hands and cupped it in both of his. The grasp he had on you was firm and warm. Zayne looked into your eyes with zeal, the tension was higher than ever before.

“From when we reunited until now, there was a total whirlwind of emotions that kept stirring within me. It was like that everyday for a while. I knew I was pushing you at arms length trying to convince myself that your life didn’t need me in it—that you would be safer without me around. But that was all in vain.” 

You subconsciously gripped his hand tighter.

“I couldn’t keep pushing you away. For a long time, longer than you might know, you’ve been the only one who resided in my heart. You occupied every moment of my thoughts when I had time to spare. At one point or another, I learned from our reunion that I just can’t live my life without you.”

  Zayne’s eyes darkened ever so slightly. He looked down, lost in thought. This time you were the one to lean forward. Your free hand took his chin and guided his face to look you in the eyes. Your breaths mingled, but nothing could break your focus on Zayne. “Tell me”, your voice was soft—just a notch above a whisper.

Zanye bit his lip for a second, but his demeanor changed in the snap of a finger. 

He met his resolve. Zayne took both of your hands in his, and looked you in the eyes.

“I like you; I’ve liked you for a very long time”, Zayne took a second to study your expression. 

“I’ve tried denying these feelings, but it made me yearn for you more. Every day we spend together and part again only makes me anticipate the next time. You make me feel like you are the missing piece of my life. I feel complete with you here—beside me.” He took your hands to his lips and kissed them. 

Your voice was choked in your throat; you didn’t know what to say. You knew that this time would eventually come, but now that it’s happened, your mind went blank. Prior to the moment, You spent days fantasizing over how to accept his feelings and felt giddy over how excited you were for the event. Well, the time was now. Everything you planned for this very instant was gone—just poof. Luckily, your heart kicks in and without thinking, you hug Zayne in a tight embrace. You held him so tight that a gasp escaped from him, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he held you too, in his sturdy arms. His hug felt so safe.

As lonely as it felt, your bodies eventually parted. Neither one satisfied by the lack of warmth, but at the very least, the two of you shared this space together. Zayne looked at you with a tender gaze and your eyes smiled back at him. He’s the one who broke the silence first. “Now that we’re here, I want to ask you: will you be my girlfriend?”. Zayne’s eyes glimmered with hope as they were directed your way. You can’t help but internally laugh; it was cute and funny that Zayne was nervous right now, even though it felt like he knew the answer. In no universe and under no circumstances would you ever reject a huge cutie-snowman like him.

“Yes, Zayne. I want to be your girlfriend.”

⋆⁺₊❅. ────・˚₊‧ ❄ ☃︎ ❄ ‧₊˚・──── ⋆⁺₊❅.

[sreabhadh]

I had thoughts, and I shared them with my darling, and they liked them so much my brain said 'okay now we HAVE to post this' so anyways-

Origin story for Green :3

Because when I saw this post my thought was

'And then Jazz won't be able to kill an animal/species he's killed before specifically because it looks cute and now that he can see better he can see how cute/adorable it is,' because-

"OH MY GOSH PROWL IT'S SO CUTE"

"Hm? Oh yeah didn't we hunt one of those like a week ago? I guess they didn't taste that bad-"

"NO!!!" *Clutches critter protectively*

"??"

"Don't eat it!!"

"...Sure I guess if you liked it that much, I didn't really care for it, you can eat it yourself if you want-"

"NO!!!"

"No, what??!"

"No eating it!! It's too cute to eat!!"

"....Jazz..."

"Look at its eyes Prowl!!"

"Jazz, it's FOOD-"

"LOOK AT THEM"

*long suffering sigh*

*holds the critter up to Prowl's face* *quietly but very intensely* "Look it in the eyes and tell me it's not too cute to eat Prowl"

*Jazz has the biggest and cutest eyes right now, Prowl cannot help but notice, though he pointedly does NOT say anything about that*

*groans* *head in palms* *opens eyes momentarily* *NOPE that was a MISTAKE Jazz is just too cute and his eyes too big* *another groan*

"Fine, very well- I won't eat it-"

Jazz: *lights up brighter than Prowl has seen in a while* "I can keep it?! :D"

*palm to forehead, Prowl HADN'T seen that coming, though honestly he should've- also at this point he just can't say no, Jazz's eyes are already WAY too big and he's SO happy and UGH-*

"Yes, fine, whatever-"

"REALLY?!! :D"

"I'm not taking care of it or making sure it doesn't get eaten by something, it's your responsibility, I'm not-"

"THANKS PROWLER!!!" *sweeps him up in a hug, gives him a big happy kiss on the cheek, hugs him again, and swims off to play with his new critter*

*Prowl, blushing, too flustered to say anything or move, just frozen flustered in place, brain not working*

And that's how they adopt Green :3

I also had thoughts for what critter Green would be- I was thinking a Moray Eel, since the green ones are nearly the same exact shade I've seen used for Green in the past

Green could help them hunt things down in the reef, maybe even help them track someone down. Would recognize them, and swim up to them whenever they visited the reef, all excited and trusting and cute, and then eventually Jazz and Prowl could settle in and make themselves a home on the reef and Green would move in too- could guard the house while they're gone, go hunting with them when they come back, cuddle with them when they're there- I can imagine Green giving Prowl (and Jazz but specifically Prowl) the BEST cuddles and Prowl would pretend not to care but get SO attached

Prowl would be like the dad that doesn't want a dog trope

Also I think Prowl would be the one to name it lol

Also-

"LOOK AT IT IT'S GOT THE CUTEST FACE"

"Jazz that is literally the ugliest critter I have ever seen"

*offended gasp* *clasps hands over the eel's 'ears'*

"How dare you!"

*sigh* "Jazz, it's literally-"

"Nope! It's adorable and you just hurt its feelings!"

"Jazz, it's-"

"Apologize!"

"...To the eel?"

"Yup!"

"Jazz, I'm not gonna-"

"You hurt its feelings Prowl! You called it ugly!"

*but it IS, objectively and obviously, plain as day ugly as- ugghh and plain as day Jazz is VERY attached, maybe what Jazz meant was that Prowl was actually hurting HIS feelings-*

Jazz: *opens wide his big doe eyes* "Pleeease, Prowler?"

*cuteness overload, plus a bit of guilt* *sigh*

"Fine"

Jazz: :3

*sigh* "I apologize for calling the eel ugly"

Jazz: *holds up the eel* "You have to apologize to the eel, Prowl"

*opens mouth to object, sees the look on Jazz's face, closes mouth*

*looks the EEL in the eyes* through gritted teeth* "I apologize for calling...you, ugly."

Jazz: "And?"

*more gritted teeth* "And clearly I was wrong and you are very cute." (It was not, it really was not, but if it made Jazz happy-)

It did. It did make Jazz happy. He grinned, flashing Prowl a row of pearly whites- Prowl's heart did a little somersault, which was NOT fair, he just got chewed out for calling an EEL ugly-

Jazz danced away, cooing and chittering gleefully with his pet, smile wide, spirits full-

Prowl: *quietly* "HE is cute"

Jazz: *who has much better hearing than Prowl realizes* "Naw I'm pretty sure it's a she."

Prowl: "What?"

Jazz: "The eel, you just called it a he."

Prowl: "Oh. Right. Of course. The eel."

(What did it say about Prowl's chances that Jazz thought an eel of all creatures was cute?)

(Were they better, or worse??)

First time hunting without sonar, they let everything escape because of their fascination at first (Prowl is just extremely confused)

CBHRDVJRDBJRCVDDCVHDXVHDXV MY BABIES

Prowl: Oh wow the sea grass has visible individual leaves....

Jazz, making 0.0 face: IT DOES. And look! Can you see the scales on this fish??

Prowl: I do!

Fish: silently praying for all known gods while two predators keep just poking it instead of attacking

(Both then proceeded to be absolutely useless and harass local wild life for the next two hours)

[vaszametili]

been thinking about my drifter for so long and finally i was able to draw him... almost for the first time since 2021.... they're growing so fast 🤧🤧

close ups and a few thoughts about him are below!

(sorry for any mistakes I still use my poor knowledge of english in tandem with a translator 😔)

• In Duviri, he wore a mask of Guilt for so long that at some point, thanks to a conceptual embodiment, it literally replaced his face. It was only after Teshin appeared that he remembered what normal people should look like, tore it off his face (bodyhorror intended) and manifested a new one.

• He tried to grow the same magnificent beard as Teshin's, but he only got a thin mustache, which he left. Thrax laughed so hard in that loop that it set a record for the longest undying time. Later, they cut off his head anyway, but the next few spirals were painfully Joyful.

• Since after escaping from Duviri (which he left literally in ruins), he still had no idea what the paradox was or what the hell was going on in the Original System. So he was initially motivated only by a desire to repay the debt to this mysterious Other Side. But later, after getting to know Ordis and finding Lotus, this struggle with Narmer became a personal crusade for freedom. Or another role that he imposed on himself.

• There was too much of a shared past between him and Operator, weighed down by his own feelings of abandonment, envy, unwillingness to let go, and fear of loss. Therefore, he decided nothing better than to push away and run again. For half a year he drifted in search of his place and himself, until the Song sounded on the system. He was the only one of them two who remembered Zariman completely, so he rushed to the ship, knowing that the Operator would be there. The idea of being alone in the main place of their nightmares overcame his own horror of the place. He couldn't let that happen.

• Unlike Ole (Operator), he still does not have a specific name, and some kind of feeling does not allow him to choose a new one for himself. But he really loves the nicknames that others give him with all his heart: names from Ordis, Cavia, Syndicates and even the inhabitants of Duviri firmly occupy a place in his soul, as his personal treasure. "If you give something a name, it means you recognize that it exists" — and judging by how many names The Hex gave to him, he really is seen and recognized.

[myotherblogforrin]

Messed Up

Warning: Swearing. Original title was "Fucked Up", but it felt too vulgar. All sexual innuendo, courtesy of Shidou.

**Note: I will default to physio therapist in my BLLK writing quite a lot. I'm a bit lazy and I don't ever want to flesh out the reader too much for obvious reasons. The job is just a link to the characters.**

Rin was looking anywhere but down. With you kneeling in front of him your soft skin moving against his as you wrapped his ankle it was difficult not to blush.

Rin liked you and everyday he seemed to become more awkward about it. So, he avoided you when he could. Today though the primary physio therapist was late. That left you or the beefy trainer to wrap his ankle.

"Itoshi, does this feel okay?" You asked, your eyes locking with his.

Rin felt his face flush under your direct attention.

"Yeah, it's fine. Are you done?"

You ignored Rin's dismissive tone and stood up before stepping back. Whatever it was about you that annoyed him, he was always in a rush to get away.

"Yeah."

This time though you walked away, leaving Rin confused as he stood up. Suddenly his plan to keep you at a distance sucked. Rin didn't want you walking away from him. He especially didn't want you hanging around the other players.

Gritting his teeth he watched as Shidou gently pulled your hair back into a ponytail for you.

It figured that Shidou would get the attention of the only two people Rin cared about. But now that Shidou was making moves, Rin was determined not to lose.

You were leaving for the night, Shidou instep beside you.

"I like 'em fucked up, sweetheart."

"I don't think Rin is fucked up. I think he's scared to let people in because they might leave."

"That's not fucked up? Hmm. You really are too kind. It's gonna get ya hurt, babe," Shidou knocked his shoulder into you.

"Maybe. Do you know what Sae did?"

"Besides leavin'? Nah. Don't think it really matters. That guy is super fucked. Just the way I want him."

You laughed and shook your head as you got ready to part ways. Shidou stopped at his flashy car unlocking it.

"See ya," you waved.

"Sure ya don't want a ride? I'll drive safe just for you," Shidou winked.

"Afraid of what it'll cost me," you teased.

"Fair point, but I'll give ya a discount," Shidou smirked.

It was impossible for him not to tease you. Like Sae, there was something about you that tamed him enough to be almost normal. But only in your presence.

"I'm good. Thanks!"

You waved again and started down the street. You had a car, but your apartment was only a few blocks away. The sun was setting, but it wasn't dark.

"L/N!"

"Itoshi! Why aren't you getting a ride home?" You demanded.

"I...uh...do you want to get dinner?"

Rin couldn't even look at you, a slight blush on his cheeks, but you didn't notice.

"Dinner? Oh, did you want to talk about your rehab plan? Because honestly it's only a couple weeks. Nothing can be done to shorten it."

Working with athletes, you were used to them trying to get back to playing ASAP. Always trying to bribe you, persuade you, or negotiate. You never budged and you weren't about to start.

"No. Just dinner."

You eyed him suspiciously.

"Okay, but I'm not adjusting your rehab. It's two weeks. No discussion."