#but yeah 'the worst prof' you ever had?

[thesmokinpossum]

talking about men i have questionable relationships with, some dude at the hang out described the one TA I have a bit of a flirt going on with as "the worst prof I've ever had" and I didn't say anything but I was standing there like ok but you're smaller, uglier and less charismatic than him so why are you talking shit???

[adelle-ein]

how do my professors keep getting worse every term

[thewritingpossum]

[vnyu73]

might actually be hate-hating a prof i'm so fucking incensed [add sailor-grade string of swears here]

[sanarsi]

Paid internship

professor!Reed Richards x student!f!Reader

Summary: You don't have enough money to pay for your internship. Prof. Richards finds another way for you to pay him back. Warnings: +18, MDNI, rough sex, student!Reader and professor!Reed so AGE GAP (but not specified), unprotected PIV, cheating (yeah he’s married), no orgasm (what a jerk), sex for work situationship, insults Wordcount: 1,7k An: The Fantastic Four: First Steps is already behind us so LET’S GO SLUTS Music I worked with: Toxic - Britney Spears

Masterlist

Getting an internship under Professor Richards himself was a dream come true.

As his assistant, you could learn more than in any school. This job gave you opportunities. Future prospects.

So you tried, working your ass off. And Reed was happy about it. So you quickly became his personal assistant. You had access to almost everything. You were someone important.

But luck eventually had to run out on you. In the worst possible way. No money to pay off your internship.

No money to pay off your dreams.

It was like a knife in the back.

You felt like a wreck standing in the professor's office.

"You don't have money to pay for the next six months?" he asked again to make sure he understood your sloppy jumble of words. You clenched your hands tighter behind your back and nodded. It took a lot of energy to maintain eye contact with him. His gaze bored a hole in you as he remained silent, thinking about your words.

"I'm really sorry, Professor..." you began, feeling even worse as he sighed heavily and looked away. He silenced you with a gesture of his hand, so you immediately fell silent. Your stomach was eager to throw up today's breakfast.

“Yeah, well…” he began, looking back at you. You could see the decision in his eyes.

You could barely stop the tears from welling up in your eyes.

“You were one of the best assistants I’ve ever had.” He smiled fondly. You pressed your lips together tightly and nodded, unable to say any words. The lump in your throat barely allowed you to breathe. “Your access card won’t work on Monday morning.”

Those were the last words he said to you.

You spent the rest of the day thinking about it. Everything you did almost ended in an accident because you couldn't focus on anything. Your last day was the worst. You couldn't even swallow water, let alone eat dinner.

You wondered how you could have acquired so much cash so quickly. No weekend job would have given you even half of what you needed.

You could have sold yourself a few times in a brothel, but… no. That was out of the question.

So you had nothing left. You felt like your whole life had collapsed.

That's why you were the last one to stay in the lab. You didn't want to accept reality.

If you went out through that door, you'd never come back.

That thought was enough for you to organize papers until late at night. Out of curiosity, you even looked into some of the files. But when you finally found something interesting, the main door opened with a bang.

You jumped in place, turning in that direction and your gaze immediately crossed with that of Professor Richards. He stopped mid-step, looking at you with an absent gaze.

"I didn't think anyone else would be here at this hour," he spoke first and looked at the documents in your hands. You blinked a few times, trying to gather your thoughts.

"Um, yeah, I stayed to clean up a bit," you explained, pointing to a few boxes lying on the ground. Reed raised an eyebrow, looking at the mess that was bigger than the order that reigned around you.

"I can see you really care about this internship," he said, returning his gaze to your lost eyes. You smiled nervously and an uncontrolled snort escaped your lips.

"Yeah..." you nodded with a crooked smile. You immediately cleared your throat and straightened up more. "I mean, yes, I care. A lot," you repeated professionally.

He was silent for a moment, looking at you carefully. His gaze, as usual, pierced your soul through and through. Sometimes you were afraid that maybe he could read minds. But then he would definitely fire you.

Considering how many naughty thoughts you had about this married man-

"How much?" he interrupted your thoughts. You hesitated, frowning at this strange question.

"What-"

"How much do you care about keeping this internship?" he repeated and began to slowly close the distance between you. You swallowed hard, tightening your grip on the documents.

"A lot," you answered confidently. And you really were able to do almost anything to keep this job.

Reed stopped in front of you, not breaking eye contact with you even as he took the documents from your hand. He glanced at the name of the folder and a smirk appeared on his lips.

"You're lucky I need you," he said to himself before throwing the papers on the counter behind you. His gaze landed on you again and you felt like he was fighting a battle within himself. Your breathing quickened a bit as he stared at you like that in silence.

You opened your mouth to say something but he was first.

"Those documents are top secret, you know that?" A wave of cold shivers ran through your body. You opened your eyes wider, glancing at the boxes on the ground.

"I- I didn't know. Shit- I'm sorry," you began to stutter, trying to explain yourself. You bent down, wanting to start collecting all the folders you had managed to take out, but his sharp command stopped you.

"Leave it."

You immediately straightened up like a string. You had always been so damn obedient to him. Now he understood what a curse it was for him.

"You're lucky today," he announced and you didn't even know how to react.

His argument with his wife gave you a one in a million chance today.

For you, it was a lottery ticket and for him, a guilty conscience for the next while. But now he was too angry to think about what would happen when he got home.

"Professor?" you spoke gently, seeing the thoughts on his face. That was enough for him to wake up and quickly cover the distance between you. You inhaled loudly before his hand tangled in your hair and his lips crushed yours.

You stepped back from the force of his pressure until his body pinned you to the counter. His kisses were strong, not giving you the chance to fight him. Not that you tried to fight him.

His hands slid down your body, gripping your breasts tightly. You moaned into his mouth as he briefly gave them his attention. Your heart was beating so hard in your chest that you could barely hear how hard he was breathing.

His fingers easily unbuttoned your pants and in one movement he pulled them down to your knees. You caught a deep breath when he pulled away from you for a moment to pull your panties down. You moaned at the cold wind hitting your heated skin before his lips attacked yours again. His tongue forced you into submission with each kiss.

Suddenly his fingers were on your pussy, testing how wet you were. You moaned into his mouth as he ran his fingers over your wet slit, spreading the moisture along her entire length.

A quiet growl left his throat as he turned you around with one movement and pushed you onto the counter. You laid down on the cold table, bent over for him like a slut. Another growl filled the room before you heard him lower his pants. You burned between your thighs as you realized what was about to happen. Shit.

"Your wife-"

"Not a fucking word," he growled, silencing you. And after a moment, you felt the tip sliding over, lubricating himself before he entered you in one movement.

You screamed as his hips crashed hard against yours. A long groan escaped his throat at the feeling of your tight wet cunt wrapped around him. You could barely catch your breath feeling the pain and pleasure at the same time. But he didn't give you time to think.

His hands gripped your hips tightly as he began to thrust into you. You moaned loudly with each hard movement he made. His hips slammed loudly against yours and his cock hit deep inside you. He growled and sped up his movements, making your moans sound like squeals.

“Fucking bitch, can’t appreciate what she has,” he began, panting. “And you would jump off a bridge if I asked you to.”

With each word he thrust harder, thrusting into you so deep you didn’t know where the pain ended and the pleasure began. He leaned closer, slowing his movements a bit so you could finally catch your breath.

"You would, right?" he whispered against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Yes,” you cried, feeling your pussy clench around his hard cock. A smirk formed on his lips.

“I can see,” he said with a haughty smirk before he straightened up again and began thrusting into you.

Fast and hard.

Caring only for his own pleasure.

You felt tears in your eyes as his sharp movements began to bring your orgasm closer. You breathed shallowly, feeling your legs begin to tremble.

"Fucking slut," he growled, digging his fingers painfully into your hips. You cried louder, feeling your pulse begin to throb and a moment separates you from a painful orgasm. But then he suddenly pulled out of you.

You moaned pitifully, feeling the desired wave of fulfillment begin to disappear. Reed focused on making a few hand movements on his cock before he came on your ass with a loud growl.

For a moment there was silence, interrupted only by your heavy breaths. You were barely able to move when he already adjusted his pants and ran his fingers through his hair, looking impeccable again. He cleared his throat, adjusting the collar of his shirt and looked at what was left of you.

"See you on Monday," he said professionally as usual and moved towards the exit. After a moment, all you heard was the slam of the door as he left you alone.

Used, dirty and unfulfilled.

[priceyprice]

Prof!Price

Prof!Price as he's sitting on his couch, on a phone call with one of his colleagues.

On his other hand, he has a glass of bourbon that he was drinking from an hour ago. It was a late night, and the two of them agreed to make an important call so they could talk about a few students and their academic progress. Price just was at the comfort of his home listening to his friend. "Mike is failing my class. I've already called other professors, and they said he's doing fine with them. Is it the same for you?"

"Hmm... He's not my best student, but he isn't my worst either."

"Alice is failing my class, too. Is she failing yours?" Price agreed for his colleague to tell him the name of his students, and he tells him about their academic progress since he doesn't have his notebook where all their grades are (nor he doesn't care about that notebook right now late at night). He knows every student he has, part of being passionate about his job. "She's not failing my class, but she's late for an assignment that was due yesterday."

"Yeah, she always does that. It's not surprising. What about Cole?"

Price sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "He's doing fine, too. He scored a good grade on the last exam."

"He's doing bad in my class, which is confusing since the other professors told me he's good in their classes too. Man— Am I the problem?"

Price chuckled darkly at that. "Maybe."

"My methods of teaching are great. I don't understand why I have a lot of students failing."

"Because you're teaching statistics."

"And what's wrong with that?"

"Everything."

Price could hear the wave of laughter from the other side of the call, making him smile a little. "You're an asshole... Oh, right! I almost forgot. What about-"

"J-John." His eyes snapped up at the same time his friend said her name. He tapped her naked thigh with his glass as a gesture of keeping silence. She lets out a little whimper, feeling the coldness of the glass. His name rolled out of her tongue by accident, but that didn't stop her from riding him like he's the only thing she could breathe.

Her hands go up, passing his shoulders until they find his neck, her fingers caressing his short hair. She's desperate. The call is taking longer than expected, and her lover —who's her professor— doesn't have any intentions of making the call shorter so he can have his way with her.

He's doing it on purpose.

"Hm? Who's she?" Price said teasingly, looking at the one the two of them were talking about. She looked so beautiful with her full body naked, going up and down on him, trying to search for a release. The dim light of his lamp table rests on her silhouette, making her look like the most beautiful art he has ever seen.

He's pretty sure a few gods from the Olympus are envious by the beauty she possesses while riding him. It was like he's her throne while she sat on him worshipping her.

"Oh wait, I remember her..." Price said in a husky voice, the feeling of her heat embracing him is making him crazy. He puts his glass on the table beside the couch and takes a strand of her nearly damp hair between his fingers, pressing a few light kisses.

"She's doing great in my class, a very intelligent student. What about yours?"

"Yeah, she's..." She's riding me right now, trying to stop her beautiful voice from moaning. "She's one of my top students. I can say she's on top of everyone... even of me." She gasps when his fingers start caressing the mons' pubis. "Shh..." He said lowly, looking at her big, desperate eyes.

"She's not my top student, but she's one of them."

"Yeah, she's very..." She lets out another whimper clenching around him when she feels him in her favorite spot. This was driving her crazy. The thought of her riding her professor while they were talking about her was the hottest turn on she ever had.

"Wait, give me a second. I think there's someone knocking on my door." Price puts the call on mute and looks at her. "My love, I need you to calm your voice."

"I c-can't. It's too much..." He caressed her cheek, stopping a tear. Then, he puts a few strands away from her sweating forehead, a very gentle expression, in contrast with how his cock is abusing her insides. "I know, baby, but I'm in an important call. Just use my cock however you like and when I'm finished I'll promise you to fuck you and please you like the goddess you are." She moaned as a response, her head falling against his shoulder.

Price unmuted his call and put his phone back on his ear. "Sorry, a lousy neighbor. Who are we discussing again?"

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

I apologize for any misspelling and mistakes. Any suggestions or comments are appreciated. 🫶

[kazumist]

EPISODE 17 ✿ ENDEARING

YOU + ME = LOVE — A DILUC SMAU

masterlist / prev ep / next ep / wc: 794

it was silly, really. 

it was silly ever since diluc realized his feelings. he suddenly finds everything about you so endearing. he finds it ridiculous how he feels himself get all giddy when you’re not even doing anything. he finds it ridiculously endearing that the simple thought of you is enough to make him feel this way.

with finals approaching, all you and diluc do is technically just review the coverage of your exams. and when you’re lucky enough to finish early, you two would just stay at your spot in the library and kill time. “professor barnes is the literal worst, i swear!” you complained. professor barnes, your teacher for practical research, isn’t really the best. he tends to skip his class (you once thought it was ironic that he was the one cutting class instead of his own students). “let me guess, he didn’t turn up for your class with him again?” diluc asks.

“yeah, and as per usual, we just sat in the classroom like total idiots because we haven’t received any feedback yet about our draft for chapters one and two!” you complained to him again, groaning in annoyance as you felt diluc rub a hand against your back—his personal way of showing comfort.

“if you’d like…” he starts.

“nope! nuh-uh. you are not going to be the one who’s going to review our draft.” you knew immediately what he was going to suggest. and you shut him down as soon as you can. as much as you admire how diluc is so dedicated and hardworking, you don’t really want to be a burden.

“but i don’t have much on my plate right now.”

“liar. kaeya told me that you guys are busy with your capstone project these days.” 

he tilts his head at you, confused. “you’re friends with kaeya?”

“who isn’t friends with kaeya?”

“fair enough.”

“but seriously, diluc. you don’t have to do it. professor barnes will get the consequences of his actions soon enough. thanks for the offer, though; it’s appreciated.” a sigh escapes your lips as you lay your head to rest on the table, using your arms as a pillow. “i’m so tired," you mumble.

“you should rest for now," he says in a softer voice this time.

“don’t you have class after this?” you moved your head to his direction so you could look at him. diluc stares back at you. you had a few strands of hair covering your vision and diluc had to resist himself from brushing them away and tucking them behind your ear. “our prof just left us with an activity since she had an errand to do.” he said a bit late.

“are you done with it?” 

“not yet.”

“huh? why not?” your voice was a bit… muffled? or a bit hard to decipher because of your position. but diluc understood you word for word nonetheless.

“i guess you could say that i’m a bit lazy at the moment.”

“you? lazy? are you really the diluc ragnvindr that everyone loves and adores?”

“oh, shut it.” he playfully rolled his eyes at you with a smile.

not too long after, you dozed off. leaving you and diluc in a comfortable silence. no one was around the floor you guys were in as usual. this time, he finds the courage to brush those strands of hair away from your face.

it’s alright to be selfish every once in a while, right? he thought.

he glances at you and observes your sleeping figure. you looked peaceful as you slept. calm breaths came in and out of you. is it silly of him to think that you look so pretty right now, even though you were just napping? diluc couldn’t formulate the right words to describe you back then. but now he has one.

endearing.

everything that you do or say is just so… endearing to him. diluc didn’t know that one could have such an effect on him. hell, he didn’t even expect to fall in love in the first place. during his years in school, he was only surrounded by people who would fall in love. never did he expect that he would end up being included in its population.

but if he’s going to be honest? he wouldn’t ask for anything more.

time ticked by and diluc sat there by your side during your whole nap. he simply shot a text at one of his classmates, saying that he wasn’t feeling well (he thought of saying that he got diarrhea, but he thought that would be too exaggerated) and that he wouldn’t be able to accompany them on their errand. so maybe skipping is a bit worth it.

after all, he was with you. and that was enough for him.

taglist (open): @ryuryuryuyurboat @g4bbyyy @kizakiss @quackimilktea @mochiboo123 @thystarsshine @cerisescherries @jamieexistss @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @aethion @dottoreworld-page @naishite @sleepyeri @staaarhin @eroxotckv @kiyiiaarchived @fallenssun @lolmeowing @dorryx @astolary @kissingkzuha @axerrri @a1-ic3 @lottierulez @livelaughlovekuni @sorcerersseestars @whipped-for-fictionals @morganadorodo @briluvspnk @venderretta @xiaosoneandonly @angeilix @morgyyyyyyy @kazioli @the-massive-simp @qtange @tiredjxnna @yuminako @acheronie @sn1perz @akitokisser @siu-ssi @artri-ad @hyeinszn @saeskiss @bubblegum-angelquartz @boomie-123 @moni11032 @sandwichmyonetruelove @cherrybb-ily @itztaki @dontmindtheevie @hotgirlshit5 [1/2]

[alovesongtheywrote]

Nightmare Academia | Spencer Reid x Reader

♥ Summary:  Have you ever seen the tiktok where that guy brings a typewriter to his class because his prof doesn't allow laptops? Yeah, it's that, but you are the source of the typewriters. In other words, you're Reid's worst nightmare. [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings:  Descriptions of emotional vulnerability from a student to a professor, reminders that the world sucks and Gen-Z is fucked when it comes to housing. The reader is. Kind of Mean to Spencer, but I won't say he doesn't deserve it. Enemies to Lovers, but they're just Enemies right now.

♥ A/N: a couple things about this fic. 1) i have no clue when this takes place in the criminal minds timeline???? i just know reid took a some kind of leave from the bau, and this is what he's doing with it 2) reid isn't actually in this one that much. my bad. 3) i've got no clue what university these two teach at. i researched typewriters extensively for this, but i didn't bother googling universities.

♥ Word count:  2371

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

“Alright, my little chilli babies, that’s about it for today. If you have any questions, office hours start now, and please remember there’s an exam next week. It makes me sad when you forget. Got it? Got it. Cool.”

Your students immediately began to stand and file out of the room. They left in groups. Some of them chatted amongst themselves softly, and some called out a farewell to you, but most of them were silent. One or two lingered behind to ask about the administration process of the PCL-R, but that was about it.

Except for this one girl.  

You were pretty sure her name was Opal. She sat near the back of the room in the second to last row. She got good grades and performed well on tests and projects- although she was a touch shy during the one presentation project you assigned during the semester.

Usually, Opal was one of the first to leave, practically running from the room, but today she just sat there, staring straight ahead. You watched her for a second, vaguely assuming that she had a question or something. She didn’t get up to ask, though. She just sat still, staring at her laptop.  You paid her no mind.  Sometimes your students just needed a second, and that was usually nothing to worry about.

You were just about to pack up your own things and head for your office when you heard a sob. You looked up again to see Opal just sobbing into her computer. You winced. A pang of sympathy hit you dead in the chest. University was just like that sometimes- and she wasn’t the first or last student to cry on campus.  

Shit, you cried on campus. Like, all the time. As a professor.  The previous Tuesday you thought about the two-headed calf poem too hard and you ended up sobbing in your office.  

You headed for the back of the room, leaning a hip against the back of the seat beside her. She didn’t seem to notice your presence. Her laptop screen was covered with detailed notes- it was honestly an impressive collection.  

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow, “Everything okay over here?”

Opal gasped, looking up at you with wide eyes, “I-I’m- I-” she sobbed again, “I’m so sorrrrrry.”

“Sorry? What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I’m crying in your classroom, and I’m so overwhelmed, and my next assignment is going to be late, and I’m so sorrrrry.”

The poor thing put her face in her hands and hunched over in her seat. You pulled out the chair next to her and sat down.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. University is stressful. It’s easy to get overwhelmed and crying can provide a cathartic release from that.”

“I- I know. It’s just so- so embarrassing.”

“Again, don’t worry about it. I literally cried in here last week.”

“R-really?”

“Mhmm. Now, if it helps, I can provide an extension on that assignment. Your feedback might be a little less in-depth, but that’s really nothing to worry about. Your work has always met a high standard.”

Her eyes somehow got even wider, “Are you- are you sure, professor?”

“Absolutely. It’s not a big deal- it might not fix your whole problem though,” you pulled your legs up onto the chair, sitting criss-cross facing your student, “If you’re feeling overwhelmed, the school provides free counselling services. They can help you feel less… whelmed.”  

Opal nodded, wiping her eyes, “It’s really just- just this one class I’m in. Our professor doesn’t allow laptops so I have to take notes by hand. But my- my writing is really messy, so then I have to figure out what I wrote, and-”

She was working herself back into a frenzy. You had to intervene. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Which prof is it, maybe we can ask about getting an accommodation made?”

“It’s-” she sobbed, “It’s Professor Reid.”

You froze. Opal continued to sob as a dark, heavy storm cloud rolled into your brain.  

“That fucking bastard,” you hissed, effectively shocking Opal out of her stupor.

“Wh-what?”

“This isn’t the first time he’s- okay, come on, follow me, we’re going to my office.”

Wordlessly, Opal put her things in her bag. You ran to your desk to do the same, snatching your keys and water bottle before heading out into the hallway. Opal followed diligently, but she struggled to keep up with your purposeful strides. Her face was still tear-stained, but now, instead of sorrow, her expression was the ultimate picture of confusion. When you reached your office, you swung the door open wide and ushered the girl inside.

In all honesty, you were quite proud of the space you had created. It was warmly lit, a necessary contrast from the harsh white lights of the hallway (you fucking hated those lights). The walls were decorated with your doctorates and neat little art pieces you found in various places. It was colourful and pleasant, and now was not the time to focus on your choice of decor because you were on a mission.

Opal remained near the door, watching as you rounded your desk and reached for something below it. With a slight groan of effort, you quickly emerged with your prize.

A vintage typewriter.

A heavy vintage typewriter.

You placed the thing down on your desk as delicately as you could. Opal stared at you in confusion as you beamed at the fine piece of machinery.

“Which room is his class in, I’ll have someone bring this to you.”

“Professor-?”

“You use it for one class, just one, and I guarantee he’ll let you use your laptop. Damn, technophobe.”

“I don’t know how to use a typewriter.”

You placed your hands on the desk, leaning forward on it, “Okay, come here then, I’ll show you.”

Opal timidly made her way towards you. You made sure to leave her lots of space as you ran through the tech tutorial. She picked up on it quickly, being the good student that she was. When you were done, you collapsed back in your chair, another bright smile on your face. Opal looked significantly less distraught, but still vaguely confused.

“Can I ask why you’re doing this for me? You- you didn’t even have to give me an extension. Why are you-?”

“Because you aren’t the first student to have this problem.”

It was true. This was the seventh sobbing-student-style complaint you’d had about him in as many months- and Reid had only been there for seven months.  You’d received emails, phone calls, and office hour meetings where desperate and devastated students would explain to you that they were falling behind. It broke your heart a little bit- and it pissed you right off.  

It was ironic that Doctor Reid had come straight here from the FBI- his technophobic nature was slowly but surely murdering your students, and now, you were going to murder him.

“Now about that extension, does five days sound good?”

Opal handed in the assignment two days into her extension. You smiled as you looked over her incredible paper. Your little scheme had worked. You hoped that Reid was pissed.

–

He was! Kind of. Not really.  It was a bit of a disappointment to be honest.

You had only known Doctor Spencer Reid for the seven months he’d been teaching alongside you, and boy howdy were you starting to hate his fucking guts. At first, everything was fine. He’d seemed sweet, and polite, and you were willing to overlook the whole FBI profiler thing to maintain the peace.

Then one of your students passed out during class.  

Thanks to his high expectations and fear of computers, there was a lot of shit for his students to cope with. The worst part was, you agreed with some of his policies- of course, you didn’t agree with the tech thing, that was stupid- but there was other stuff that you liked. He taught your students things that could help them improve- but at what cost.

Your formerly dim-eyed and sleepy students (let’s be real, they were never going to be bright-eyed nor bushy-tailed, they’re fucking college students) were now going through life in a state of anxiety that was not good for their long-term health. That was enough to make you hate Spencer Reid.  

And then one night, over a very full glass of wine you looked up his FBI career. You learned that the BAU used a private jet.

A private. Fucking. Jet.

They didn’t need to use the private jet. They could’ve used trains and it would’ve done the same thing. Shit, they didn’t even have to leave Quantico. They could’ve done their job from their main office. Most profilers do their job from their main office.  Instead, Reid’s team had dumped fucking jet fuel into the damn atmosphere because they fucking felt like it.  Not to mention just. FBI. Ew.

So, yeah. Fuck Reid’s three PhD’s, and fuck his ability to teach. You didn’t give a shit about any of that. You hated the man. You wanted to eat his heart in the main atrium, and given your way, you would.

Taking all that into consideration, it was only natural for the expression on your face to morph into one of absolute joy when Reid came to your office with the typewriter in his arms, and his tail between his legs.

“Doctor Reid,” your smile was a plastic thing, a false beauty with venom hiding beneath it, “What can I help you with.”

“Please stop sending that typewriter to my class.”

You opened your eyes a little wider, playing dumb just to fuck with him, “Typewriter? Whatever do you mean? I can’t imagine anyone in this century would even own a little antique typewriter like that thing there.”

“Little? That thing has to be over a hundred pounds- and it’s not antique, it’s-”

“It is literally thirty-three pounds.”

“Oh, okay,” he nodded. It was very clearly a ruse, “But how would you know that unless you own the typewriter?”

“I do a lot of research. That’s a 1960s Vintage Royal Empress Typewriter measuring about twelve inches in width and weighing thirty-three pounds and eight ounces. Y’know, now that you mention it, I’ve actually been in the market for a vintage typewriter.”

You put your elbows together on the desk and placed your face in your hands, “You wouldn’t know where I could get one would you?”

“Dr. (L/N), this is your typewriter.  Please stop sending it to my classes.”

“Hm, I guess it doesn’t pay tuition, that’s not fair to the other students,” you opened your laptop, “What class do you teach again? I’ll sign it up and pay the price in full.”

Doctor Reid let out the most exasperated sigh you had ever heard in your life- and that was impressive. You taught college kids.

“Why are you like this?” he mumbled.

“Pardon?”

“I said-” he at least had the decency to look embarrassed, “I said, ‘Why are you like this?’”

Your smile split your face from ear to ear. You emerged from behind your desk slowly, carefully, like a predator eyeing up its prey.

“Why am I like this, Dr. Reid? I’m like this because in the past seven months, I have had to deal with seven emotionally wrecked students, and what did they all have in common? Was it personal tragedies? The pure state of the world and everything in it? The knowledge that very few of the students at this school will be able to afford houses once they enter the working world?  No, Dr. Reid. The thing they had in common was you.”

“What are you implying?”

“Implying- what are you implying, he asks me,” you muttered, “I’m saying that your fear of computers is fucking over your students.”

“Studies have shown that handwritten notes-”

“No, no, stop. You don’t get to talk.  I’m talking now. Handwritten notes might be better for long-term memory retention, but not everyone writes as fast as you talk. Most of these kids don’t have time to switch their notes to a digital format! And that doesn’t account for shit getting lost, or students who get sick and miss class. Look, I get that computers might be scary for you, but in a climate where most of your students are full-time students, who take a mind-numbing amount of courses that cover incredibly difficult material, go home and struggle with the steaming pile of shit that is reality, and then head out for their part-time jobs- or, in some cases, their full-time jobs- you might want to have a degree of sympathy.”

Reid stared at you. He seemed unaffected. You wondered if that was because you were like, an entire foot shorter than him. You pulled up a chair and stood on it.

“Let your students use their laptops, or I swear to god, I will never stop sending the typewriter to class.  You will hear the incessant sound of keys clicking in your nightmares, got it?” 

He paused, his eyes darting across your face from your lips to your eyes and back.

“How old are you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re standing on a chair like a child. How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven. Now get out of my office.”

He did as you asked. You could see a small smirk on his lips as he shut the door behind him. The sight of it made your blood boil, and there and then, you decided you were gonna keep sending the typewriter anyway because fuck that guy.

Still, over the next few months, you never heard another complaint about Spencer Reid and his technophobic habits. Your students went from extreme emotional agony to regular, day-to-day emotional agony. He’d stopped making them take notes by hand.

You were still gonna kill him just… maybe a little bit less.

[leaentries]

Bad day

luke hughes x chubby!reader

a/n- hey y’all! so guess who’s not dead 😋 i’m so so sorry i’ve been so inactive this past month! i’ve been dealing with college starting back up and my new job. but now that i’m back to semi-normal schedule, im hoping to start posting more! so please don’t be afraid to send in any thoughts or requests you may have! also, im so sorry if this is shit, i didn’t really know where i was going when i started writing. i just wanted to get something out for y’all to read😭

p.s- gif is not mine, credits to the owner!!

some days truly never seemed to end.

even though it was only a wednesday, the bleakness of the sky and air ruined every seemingly good thing coming y/n’s way. her day started off great. waking up next to her boyfriend who gave her plenty of good morning sleepy kisses and “i love you’s.” luke even went the extra mile and warmed up her morning shower, paired with a fresh towel straight out of the dryer.

as she stepped into the shower, she felt confident that she was going to have a fantastic day. her classes were easy on wednesday and only lasted till early afternoon. although she knew that luke would be gone for practice by the time she returned home, she was excited to lounge around and be lazy for the day.

only, her day took a turn for the worst.

walking to her first class of the day, the coffee she held in her hand, that luke put so much effort into, somehow managed to slip from her grasp. the cup went tumbling into the pavement, leaving ugly light brown splotches in its wake. frustrated, she picked up the soaked cardboard.

y/n took a deep breath and quickly disposed of the cup, before continuing her journey to class. even though she felt bad for wasting the coffee, she was still set on having a great day. her class went by decently fast, ending when the professor decided to go on a tangent about his recent disk golf tournament.

on wednesdays she only had two classes, her next one being the longest. sitting down for her next lecture, she noticed the thigh portion of her jeans had begun to rip. y/n couldn’t help the feeling of dread that filled her body. those were her favorite jeans and the store in which she bought them, had discontinued this style.

sighing, she placed her head down on her arms. she decided to close her eyes, since she got to class early anyways. what seemed to be a few seconds, quickly turned into her feeling a jab to her side. she lifted her head, eyes squinting due to the bright lights. she looked over to her desk partner. julie looked back with concerned eyes.

“dude, are you okay?”

puzzled, y/n replied, “yeah….why?”

“you just slept through the entire lecture. which, by the way, prof decided to assign some stupid essay on. he said it’s gonna be due friday.”

with wide eyes, y/n stared at the clock on the wall.

i slept through the whole thing?

hitting her like a train, she turned back to julie.

“wait wait wait. an essay? shit, i don’t even know what he talked about today.”

worry gripped her like a vice. how the hell was she ever gonna get an essay done about a lecture she didn’t even listen to? there goes her plan on being lazy for the rest of the day.

“don’t worry, i got you girl. i made sure to take some major notes for you.” julie handed y/n the purple notebook, “just make sure to bring it to class on friday.” with that, julie gathered her things and left the classroom.

still stuck on the fact that she slept through the entire lecture, y/n slowly began to pack up and make her way home. rushing to her car, she made the drive as fast as possible.

not to her surprise, she was greeted with an empty apartment. she would normally be a little sad at this, but she took it with grace. the quiet will give her time to go over julie’s notes and start her essay.

❥.

by the time luke found his way through the door, it was easily past six.

“angel?” luke called into the open apartment. “y/n?” he called again. when he still received no response he walked to their shared bedroom, only to find her hunched over a desk with headphones in her ears.

he walked up to stand behind her, gently placing his hands on her shoulders and a kiss to the top of her head. her body jumped slightly, startled at the sudden touch.

“what the fuck, lukey?” she turned to him.

“awww, im sorry baby.” luke responded, chuckling slightly.

though his smile began to fall from his face when he saw the deep line of worry and distress around her eyebrows. luke felt his own furrow.

“what’s wrong, angel?” luke felt his own worry begin to set in. he could have sworn she was in a great mood this morning, recalling when she told him her plans for the day.

frustrated tears began to fill her eyes, “today has just utterly been shit. first, i spilt the coffee you spent so much time making me. then, i fell asleep durning my lecture and missed the entire thing. and to top it all off, my professor decided to assign an essay on said lecture. so now i’m having to bullshit this assignment, which means i’ll probably get a horrible grade.”

by the end of her rant, hot tears found their way from her eyes and down her cheeks. luke’s hands quickly reached to wipe them away.

“don’t cry, pretty girl. it’s okay.” luke said in a hushed voice. he swiveled the chair around, crouching to look up at her down casted face. he placed his hands on her plushy thighs, not failing to appreciate the warmth they radiated under his palms.

“hey, hey. look at me, y/n” at the sound of her name, she tilted her head up slightly, meeting his concerned filled eyes.

“you did nothing wrong. that coffee took me all of about 30 seconds to make and i can help you with your essay. i promise you, you are doing great, baby. you’ll do fine on this essay and it sounds to me like you needed the sleep anyways.” his hand reached to cradle her damp, round cheek.

“i’m sorry. i don’t know why i’m upset. it’s not like anything horrible happened. it-it’s just today was supposed to be so good. a-and,” a small sob cut through the air. taking a deep breath she continued, “and i’ve been doing this essay for the past 4 hours. i feel like i’m getting no where.”

luke’s heart hurt at the sight of his girlfriend so drained. it was a complete 180 from the cheerful attitude she had that morning. he slowly stood up, reaching over to close her laptop. she opened her mouth in protest, but was quickly cut off. “before you try and stop me, you need a break, sweetheart. you’ve made plenty of progress on your essay for today. come lay down with me. we can call in some take out and watch a movie.”

luke’s eyes gazed pleadingly into her own.

“but what if i can’t get it finished by tomorrow? it’s due at the beginning of class friday.” luke was fast to ease her worry, “i promise i will help you finish it tomorrow. i don’t have practice, so we can spend the whole day making this essay a+ material. now, go change and meet me in the living room.”

with a smile and another kiss to her head, luke walked out of the bedroom. attempting to brush off the last thoughts of her essay, y/n got up and walked to the closet. she grabbed a pair of sweats and one of luke’s big sweatshirts. putting it on reminded her of how thoughtful he is, always making sure to get them a size bigger so they’ll be extra oversized.

she smiled as the scent of his cologne filled her nose.

now completely changed, she walked out, only to be met with what seemed to be every blanket in the house set up on the couch. next to it laid plenty of her favorite snacks, along with her favorite drinks. with wide eyes, she turned to meet luke’s nervous form.

“w-what’s all this?” she gestured toward the couch. luke walked up to her, placing his hands on her full hips.

“i just wanted to do something for you, make your day a bit better. do you like it?” luke’s eyes were hopeful.

“of course, i love it.” she looked up at luke’s face, “thank you. for everything.” luke flashed his beaming grin.

“anything for you, angel,” he whispered. luke leaned down to press his lips into her soft ones. his hands pulled her hips to meet his, deepening the kiss. y/n found her own hands finding home in the curls on the nape of his neck. she gripped his hair, slightly pulling at the intensity. luke’s light groans filled the apartment.

forcing themselves apart, y/n placed her hands on luke’s shoulders as he tried to chase her lips. a whine escaped his throat, “whyyy? i want to kiss you.” a laugh bubbled out of her mouth, bringing a smile to luke’s face.

“as much as i would love to keep kissing you, i want to go lay down. and that movie isn’t going to watch itself.” with this, luke took liberty of going to lay across the couch first, opening his arms to welcome y/n into them. she didn’t hesitate to find comfort in his arms, laying her head on his chest.

luke grabbed one of the many blankets, covering them both. he placed his chin on the top of her head, grabbing the remote lying next to him.

“alright angel, what do you want to watch?”

[minhoskofi]

u want more?

pairing: bestfriend!byounggon x bestfriend!fem!reader genre: non-idol!au, smut (minors dni!), some fluff warnings: grinding, teasing, edging, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), fingering, “baby”, "love", choking, unprotected sex, begging, use of "fuck", marking (hickeys) word count: 3.2k

As the evening sun cast a warm glow through the windows of Byounggon's cozy flat, you slumped onto his couch, clutching a tub of ice cream like it was your lifeline.

Byounggon, your ever-reliable best friend, observed your disheveled appearance with a mixture of sympathy and exasperation.

"Again?" he murmured, shaking his head as he handed you a tissue to wipe away your tears.

You chuckled humorlessly, your voice muffled by the ice cream. "Yeah, again. I swear I have the worst taste in men."

Byounggon's eyes softened as he watched you devour the ice cream, a pang of protectiveness swelling in his chest. He had seen you go through countless heartbreaks, each time picking up the pieces of your shattered heart with unwavering resilience. And each time, he wished he could shield you from the pain.

"Maybe it's time for a change of scenery," he suggested, a spark of spontaneity igniting in his eyes. "How about we escape for a while? Just you and me, away from all this mess."

You raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in your eyes. "Are you suggesting a getaway or a pity party?"

Byounggon grinned, his dimples deepening. "A little bit of both, maybe. But mostly a chance for you to recharge and have some fun."

You chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the thought of spending time with Byounggon.

"Alright, you're on," you agreed, a small smile playing on your lips. "But you're paying for everything, got it?"

Byounggon rolled his eyes playfully. "Of course. Consider this my treat for having to put up with your ugly crying face all these years."

You swatted his arm playfully, unable to suppress your laughter at his teasing. "Come here," you ordered, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

“Come where?”

You savored the last spoonful of ice cream, letting out a contented sigh as you set the empty tub aside. You patted the empty space next to you on the couch. “Here. Cuddles. Now.”

A faint blush crept onto Byounggon's cheeks, his heart fluttering nervously at your request. Lately, he couldn't deny the growing… warmth he felt whenever he was close to you, the way his heart seemed to skip a beat whenever your laughter filled the room.

"So clingy," he retorted, trying to mask the sudden rush of emotions swirling within him as he settled onto the couch beside you.

You snuggled up against him, resting your head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around you tentatively, the scent of your hair filling his senses. His heart hammered in his chest as he resisted the urge to bury his face in the crook of your neck, to hold you close and never let go.

As you drifted off to sleep in his comforting embrace, Byounggon watched over you with an unusual tenderness. He couldn't tear his gaze away from your peaceful face, illuminated by the soft glow of the evening light filtering through the window.

But as time passed, he began to feel the uncomfortable numbness creeping into his arm. Despite his reluctance to disturb your rest, he knew he couldn't bear it much longer.

He eased himself out from beneath you and gently scooped you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he made his way to his bedroom.

Laying you down on the bed with the utmost care, he tucked the blankets around you snugly, ensuring you were comfortable before tucking a stray strand of hair away from your face.

As you stepped into the luxurious lobby of the hotel, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of its opulent beauty. “You can’t possibly afford this,” you breathed, turning to Byounggon with wide eyes. 

“Already did,” he bit back.

As you approached the reception desk to check in, the hotel staff greeted you warmly… and then apologized profusely. 

Shit.

They explained that there had been a mix-up with the reservations. The last double bed room had been already booked, and they were left with only one room available, with a shared bed. 

A surprise for no one.

You exchanged a hesitant glance with Byounggon, unsure of how to proceed. “I told you to book beforehand.” 

Sharing a bed with your best friend shouldn't be a big deal, right?

Byounggon, ever the picture of composure, simply shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Looks like we're bunking together, partner. Hope you don't snore."

As the first light of dawn filtered through the hotel room’s curtains, you found yourself stirring from a fitful sleep. 

Your limbs were tangled in the blankets.

A distinct lack of warmth enveloping you.

With a groan, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and turned to Byounggon, who was blissfully unaware of your growing irritation as he slept soundly beside you.

"Seriously, Gon?" you grumbled, poking him gently in the side. "You moved so much last night, I swear, I felt like I was in the middle of a wrestling match."

Byounggon let out a soft snore in response, his arm flopping lazily onto your side of the bed, effectively stealing even more of the blankets in the process. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, tugging futilely at the fabric in an attempt to reclaim your share.

"And don't even get me started on the snoring," you continued, "I could've just rented you out as a white noise machine."

Byounggon let out a snort in his sleep, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he shifted slightly, sending a sharp jab of pain shooting through your side where he had inadvertently elbowed you.

"Ow!" you exclaimed, shooting him a mock accusatory glare. "Are you doing this on purpose now?"

He was completely unfazed by your complaints.

With a huff of frustration, you grabbed your pillow and began to mercilessly pummel him with it, determined to rouse him from his deep sleep.

"Lee Byounggon! Wake! The fuck! Up!" you exclaimed, landing a harder blow with the pillow. "I can't take it anymore! You're snoring like a chainsaw, stole all the blankets, and now I'm starving!"

Byounggon stirred groggily, blinking owlishly, "Huh? What's going on?" he mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"I'm hungry!" you whined, launching another assault with the pillow for good measure. "And I can't sleep with all your tossing and turning. It's like trying to sleep on a roller coaster!"

Byounggon let out a sheepish chuckle, finally fully awake as he sat up in bed, the blankets pooling around his waist. "Sorry about that."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

His hair tousled from sleep and eyes still heavy with drowsiness, he looked effortlessly adorable and undeniably attractive at the same time. The sight caused a flutter in your chest, and you couldn't help but feel a blush creeping up your cheeks.

Snorting softly, you quickly tried to compose yourself, mentally chiding your traitorous heart for its sudden fluttering. You busied yourself with the excuse of fixing his hair, reaching out to gently run your fingers through the unruly locks, attempting to smooth them down.

"Uh, your hair's a bit of a mess," you mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant despite the warmth spreading across your cheeks. "Let me fix it for you."

“You're one to talk. You look like you just rolled out of bed yourself."

You rolled your eyes in mock annoyance, though the teasing glint in his eyes only served to deepen your blush. "At least I'm not the one who snores like a bear."

Byounggon chuckled, leaning into your touch as you continued to smooth down his hair. "Fair."

As you sat at the edge of the hotel’s pool, dipping your toes into the cool water, a sense of tranquility washed over you. 

Beside you, Byounggon crouched down, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in close. "Hey, I've been meaning to tell you something," he teased.

You raised an eyebrow, curious as to what he had up his sleeve. But before you could respond, he pushed you into the water with a playful shove, sending you splashing into the pool with a yelp of surprise.

Determined to get back at him, you didn't immediately swim to the surface but watched as Byounggon treaded water, clearly worried that he had gone too far. 

After a few seconds, he dove into the water, swimming towards you with a serious expression.

He grabbed you from underwater, pulling you into a tight embrace and wrapping your legs around his waist. "For fuck’s sake, don't scare me like that, you idiot," he scolded gently, his voice soft with concern. "I thought I hurt you.” 

You felt his heart racing against your chest as he scolded you.

The warmth of his touch seeped into your skin as you pressed closer to him. And as you found yourself between him and the pool’s walls, his body pressed close against yours, you couldn't ignore the sudden awareness of the closeness between you.

The way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the feel of his wet skin against yours, the way his arms held you securely - it all sent a shiver down your spine. 

As you returned to the hotel room, the exhaustion of all the swimming settled in, and you couldn't help but feel the overwhelming urge to just collapse onto the bed and succumb to the pull of sleep. 

"Hell, no. Be for real now," Byounggon was towel-drying his hair as he paced back and forth in the room before plopping on the bed. "We can't just waste the day sleeping! There's so much to see and do - waterfalls, hiking trails, beautiful beaches. We can't miss out on all of that!"

You let out an exasperated sigh, flopping onto the bed with a tired groan. "But I'm exhausted. I feel like I could sleep for a week. And besides, isn't the whole point of a vacation to relax and recharge?"

You continued to bicker back and forth, each stubbornly clinging to your own viewpoint, until you couldn't take it anymore. 

Straddling Byounggon, you leaned in close, trying to persuade him with your most convincing arguments.

"Come on, Goni," you pleaded, your hands resting on his shoulders as you looked into his eyes with determination. "Let's just stay in for now, order some room service, and go for dinner later. We can explore tomorrow when we're feeling more refreshed."

But as you spoke, you failed to notice the shift in his demeanor - the way his breath hitched slightly, the way his eyes darkened with lust. And as you leaned in closer, trying to sway him with the warmth of your proximity, Byounggon's hands found their way to your hips, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. 

Byounggon couldn't help but stare at you. He had always found you beautiful, but he had never told you that. He didn't want to risk ruining the friendship. But seeing you on top of him like this, talking about your vacation plans and whatnot - it was too much for him to handle.

He tried to focus on whatever you were saying, but his mind was elsewhere. Down in his pants, to be exact, where he was getting extremely turned on by the feeling of your body pressed against his.

As you continued to ramble on, Byounggon's thoughts were consumed with images of the things he wished he’d do to you. 

Running his hands through your hair. 

Kissing your lips.

Holding you close. 

Fucking you silly.

“Hey! Are you even listening to me?” You snapped your fingers in front of his face.

He snapped out of his thoughts and looked at you, trying to hide the bulge in his pants. “No, not really, no. I’ve told you not to do this”, he replied, his voice slightly strained.

You raised an eyebrow, confused “Do what? What's wrong? You’re being weird,” you asked, concern evident in your voice.

Byounggon took a deep breath and decided to take a chance.

He gently grabbed your hips,

“This…”,

then pressed you hard against his growing erection,

“is what's wrong." his voice was lower than what you were used to.

"You've been sitting on top of me for the past few minutes and I can't focus on anything but this,” he confessed, looking into your eyes.

Your eyes widened in shock as you felt his hard member pressing against you. 

You had never noticed how much your own best friend turned you on, or you him.

After a moment of silence, Byounggon broke the tension, “I know. I shouldn't have done tha-”

You shushed him, placing a finger on his lips, “It's fine. We're both adults. And besides, i-it's just a natural reaction.”

You couldn't believe what you were saying, but the way your body was responding to his touch was too much to ignore. So, you did a test roll of your hips against his lap, causing him to suck in a breath.

“Don’t play with me.”, he warned.

But you kept grinding against him, feeling the heat building between you. Byounggon's hand wrapped around your neck, pulling you in closer. Your heart raced as you felt his breath on your lips, the anticipation almost unbearable.

You parted your lips slightly, inviting him to close the distance, but he hesitated. 

You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between desire and the fear of crossing a line with his best friend.

But you weren't about to let him pull away. You leaned in closer, your lips hovering just inches from his, silently urging him to take the leap.

"Goni," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "Don't overthink. Just go for it."

He hesitated for a moment longer, his gaze searching yours for any sign of hesitation or uncertainty. But all he found was a fierce determination, a longing that mirrored his own.

And then, finally, he closed the distance between you. His lips met yours in a hesitant but passionate kiss.

It was intoxicating, filled with years of pent-up feelings and passion. You couldn't control the moan that escaped from your mouth as you ground your hips against Byounggon's, causing him to grip your waist tightly.

Breaking the kiss, you trailed wet ones along his jawline, your hands moving eagerly to rid him of his shirt, fingers tracing the contours of his chest. You tugged at the fabric, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside, your own following it soon after. 

Feeling emboldened, Byounggon leaned back, pulling you onto his chest as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth.

His hands roamed over your body, sending more shivers down your spine. You arched your back, unable to get enough of him as you pressed your body against his, feeling every inch of his skin.

You slipped a hand under Byounggon's waistband, your fingers grazing his throbbing length.

Byounggon pulled away from the kiss, panting heavily. “Are you sure you want to do this?”  

“I want it. And I'm sure,” you replied, your hand now firmly gripping him.

That was all the confirmation Byounggon needed. He flipped you on your back, moving lower, biting and sucking on the skin of your neck, leaving marks, pressing kisses along your collarbone before reaching your breasts. 

He looked up at you. A lustful spark in his eyes. Then took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and teasing, causing you to arch your back, letting out a soft moan.

Your hips bucked against his hand as he slipped his fingers under the waistband of your panties, flicking his fingers over your clit.

Your moans grew louder as Byounggon removed them and spread your legs apart. He took a moment to admire you before leaning down and lightly licking your slit. 

Your fingers tightened in his hair as he continued to tease with his tongue.

But he wasn't satisfied with just teasing you. He wanted to taste you. Fully. 

He slipped his tongue inside, lapping up your wetness and causing you to let out a strangled cry. He moved his tongue in circles, teasing your walls before flicking over your sensitive spot.

You gripped at the sheets, your body writhing with pleasure. Byounggon's mouth was working wonders on you, and you could feel your orgasm building. But before you could let go, Byounggon pulled away, earning a frustrated whimper from you.

He climbed up your body, hovering over you with a smirk. “You taste so good,” he whispered before capturing your lips in a rough kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips and it only turned you on more.

He positioned himself up at your entrance. Teasing was, apparently, his thing. He slid only the head of his cock in and out, watching your reactions.

You moaned in frustration, “Please, just fuck me already.”

But he continued to slide just the tip in and out, watching as your eyes rolled back in pleasure, “And if I just continue teasing you like this?”

"Fuck, please, for fuck's sake!" you breathed, craving him like your lungs craved oxygen.

After what seemed like an eternity, Byounggon finally pushed himself inside you, filling you completely. You both let out a moan, as he slowly moved in and out, savoring just how tight and wet you were for him.

He couldn't resist teasing you a little more, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back in. Your moans grew louder with each thrust, nails digging into Byounggon's back.

Finally, unable to hold back any longer, he picked up the pace and pounded into you, thrusting in and out with a force that made you gasp. 

He pulled back before plunging back in, setting a fast and rough pace. And as your moans filled the room, Byounggon couldn't resist wrapping his hand around your throat, choking you just enough to bring you to the edge again.

“Fuck, don’t stop.” You cried out as you reached your peak, your walls clenching around him.

“I’m not intending on stopping, love.”

He continued to pound into you, his pace quickening as he chased his own release.Your legs were shaking and your voice had turned hoarse from screaming, but you really didn't want him to stop. You wanted more.

“Please,” you begged, your voice barely audible.

He lifted your leg and placed it on his shoulder, allowing him to penetrate even deeper, spreading you wider, plunging back inside. Harder.

“You want more, baby?” Byounggon growled, his hips slamming against yours with each thrust. "Hm?"

You only nodded, your head spinning from the intensity of the pleasure coursing through your body.

He leaned down and captured your lips in a hungry kiss, his hand reaching between your legs to rub your sensitive clit. Your moans were muffled by his mouth.

Byounggon could feel you getting close again and he wasn't far behind. He quickened his pace, his own moans joining yours. Your body tensed and you screamed out his name as you came, your walls milking him for all he was worth.

He collapsed on top of you, panting and covered in sweat. Byounggon wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, kissing your forehead.

“Best friends. Right?” Byounggon whispered with a smile.

“Oh, fuck you, Gon!” you laughed.

“Bet I did.”

a/n: this fanfic is purely fictional and solely for fun. the character(s) mentioned do not represent in any form or way the celebrity/ies, but merely using their name(s) and appearance! do not translate or repost. all rights reserved /© minhoskofi/

[wachtelspinat]

Hey ! I’ve been seeing your art going around since your midnight crew stuff and I just recently stubble across your tumblr, thank to your beautiful overwatch art for our beloveds junkers ! I’ve been scrolling through your account and read about your experience of being a former graphic designer who is a doctor now. And damn. I can’t emphasize how much I admire you, especially as someone who is struggling really hard to choose between 2 careers paths ( with one of them being art related ). This is why I was wondering if you would be open to talk about how and why you switched from art to medecine ? Especially because most of the time I feel it happens more the other way around ? ( If it’s too personal just ignore this ask + sorry if you already talked about it before )

hey ! no worries, i don't expect ppl to scroll through my tumblr to find an answer for a question they might have. first of all thanks for your nice words, means a lot <3

i switched from art to medicine because my early 20-something-self was even more anxiety-ridden than my present-self, and being in art school and having to "perform" regularly was a nightmare. i'm talking about a time in which i was so scared of being perceived that i often skipped grocery shopping, just so i could avoid being around people. so like, pitching art related projects to peers and profs was eeh... especially because art is so personal oh my god. i still hate it when someone tries to sneak a peek while i'm drawing, makes me wanna throw my sketchbook and myself off the bridge. anyways so i always felt a 110% inadequate (plus i got a gf during that time who was so good to me and tried to get me out of my funk on multiple occasions (she was and still is an artist and has now a career as a freelancer and i'm rly proud of her) but i couldn't see that because i just compared the two of us all the time and sabotaged any attempt she made for having fun with drawing with her) that i sat down at some point and asked myself if i could do this any longer, and i came to the conclusion that no, it really kills me rn.

what made me go into the health sector? i don't even know anymore, i think it was a mixture of "i loved biology, esp. the human body in school" and "my mum is an icu nurse and talks a lot about hospitals, maybe i should check it out"... it was not a well thought through decision, which is so funny because studying medicine was a hell of a meatgrinder ride (also my anxiety and self hatred? still there, but now i wasn't judged anymore because of my art but instead being called a dumb idiot collectively with all the other students because nobody likes med students) and for some reason i was able to get through that despite it not being my passion at all, but i couldn't stand up for myself in art school. i don't even know if i could work through it nowadays, but the good thing is i don't have to ask myself this question anymore, because being a doctor pays the bills, and ever since i left art school i was able to just draw without consequence. which is nice to a degree, my artistic output is not tied to the means of generating money. on the other hand... idk, in another life with more confidence and less worries, i'd love to be some sort of character designer T_T

so yeah that's basically it. at some times i cherished my career decisions, at other times i regretted them deeply, worst thing is i know it has a lot to do with personality, but the fact that we can't change who we are with a blink of an eye gives me the framework to think that the path i took was ok. as in. things happened for a reason and maybe i'm just not cut out for that kind of work. you have to be aware of the conditions of a job to decide if you are up for it. because being an artist doesn't end with "just draw". i myself had an unrealistic view of the job back then too. and the fact that i could not seperate between personal aspects and "doing a job here" was crucial.

yeah, idk if this is helpful at all. i think the one thing that is super important here is to have a realistic view on the conditions of work you are about to head into, and i know this is mostly very difficult to aquire. because unless you really work in a sector there is often no way to fully grasp the situations you can find yourself in (this applied for me also in the health sector, which made me fall into a depression a year ago, but what do you do after you spent 6 years of studying :') ). doing internships and just trying to get to know a lot of things really helps. and - idk how old you are, but if you're really young: it's ok to switch careers at some point. it's even ok to do so when you are older (trying to end on a positive note here because it feels like i just said a lot of depressing things... like don't get me wrong i like my job, the conditions are just fucked up, and again my personality prevents me from switching again but it's also not that easy in germany, BUT it's a valid thing to do, being versatile is good! just... make sure you don't end up with a job that you absolutely hate because that kills it all)

[melodygatesauthor]

Chapter 3: It's Wrong

prof!Steven Grant-Jake Lockley-Marc Spector X f!Reader

Edited by: @welcometostayingawake (she's the real MVP)

Mood Boards - Book Cover - Masterlist

Chapter Summary:

You have your first tutoring session with Steven. You both continue to struggle to keep it together.

Tags/Summary (these are for the ENTIRE fic):

college AU, no powers/not in MCU/no Khonshu, talk of mental illness, Marc has DID, forbidden relationship, age gap, reader is 21y/o, Boys are 38y/o, reader attends college in America but isn't necessarily American, smut, sex, masturbation, p in v, creampies galore, reader is on birth control, dubious consent due to identity issues, ANGST, romance, fluff and smut, oral sex, falling in love, reader is not race coded.

Word Count: 4.4k

It was Wednesday, and your eyes shot open no later than 6:30am. It wasn’t like you to be awake so early, but you knew you had history that morning and you hadn’t been able to shake your intrusive thoughts regarding your professor since you’d met him. Even Layla was surprised at your liveliness so early.

“God, you’re…peppy.” She said, rolling out of bed not long after you had.

It was hard sharing a small room and trying to stay quiet. You felt bad for waking her but you couldn’t help it.

“Yeah, sorry. Just trying to…” you couldn’t tell her the truth, “just trying to make a good impression on the new history professor so he’ll give me a good grade.”

Layla walked over to the wardrobe where you stood, putting on a little makeup for the day. She rifled through her clothes and pulled out a shirt. She held it out to you.

“I am never going to wear this, but if you want to make a good impression…this might do the trick.” She raised her eyebrows. 

You held the shirt up in front of you. It had a low cut neckline, just enough to still leave something for the imagination. You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“I can’t wear something like this.” You tried handing it back to her.

She pushed it back at you. “Just try it. Worst case scenario, you wear something normal next time.”

“Fine.” You conceded.

The shirt would be covered anyway as you pulled a warm jacket over your shoulders and headed to Moonbean for your morning coffee. You were about to open the door when you saw him there through the glass. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you lost all confidence. If you just went to class, you could avoid a very awkward interaction.

You remembered going back to your dorm last night after your final class. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about your interaction with Steven at the printer. How sweet he was, grinning at you like that. No one had ever looked at you like that. Steven looks at you like he sees you for the first time every time, like you brightened his day just by showing up, his whole face softening when his eyes land on you. Like he was seeing you, the real you, without you even saying anything, the attraction between you so strong you swore everyone in the room could feel it. It made your stomach twist in the best way, and made your body tingle all over. Walking away from him in the printer room was even harder than it should’ve been, as though he were a magnet, pulling you back. 

You remembered using your finger again that night to quell your need for him. Once more you were covering your mouth to hide your scandalous activities from your sleeping roommate in her own bed just feet away from you.

Unbeknownst to you, Steven was in his apartment that same night, palming his own release once again, trying to satiate the lust burning inside his core. He hadn’t been able to shake the thought of your pert bum pressing against his groin in the printer room, couldn’t stop his mind from recalling the way you looked bent over right in front of him at the perfect angle.

You reached out to grab the door handle to the cafe, hand shaking from the fear of seeing him and him knowing you’d touched herself to thoughts of him?

No, you thought, no no. Go to class.

You chose to continue your walk, avoiding him all together. You were early enough to class that no one was there when you walked in. After finding your seat, you pulled out your laptop and opened it. Suddenly, you felt nervous. Fantasizing about Steven was one thing, but being around him in person was another. You were hoping it wouldn’t inhibit your ability to focus through class like a normal student.

But it did. 

He stepped into the classroom some time later, but you were still the only one in the room. He had two paper mugs in hand and made a mad shuffle to his desk. You realized that he had spilled some of the hot liquid from one of the cups all over the front of his shirt. Quickly, and conveniently, you remembered having a couple of napkins in your bag from lunch the day before. You grabbed them and ran to the desk.

“Here.” You held out the napkins.

“Oh, thank you I-“

He went slackjaw tracing his eyes over your hand up to the v-neck of your shirt. You watched him gulp hard before shaking his head and finally looking at your face.

“T-thank you.” He took the napkins, but kept his eyes on you.

“Yeah, no problem.” You said, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

What the hell are you doing? You thought. You never should’ve worn this damn shirt, you’re playing with fire.

“I, erm, I opened the door and when I stepped in it whacked me in the back. Nearly knocked both cups outta my hands.” He laughed, patting his shirt with the paper.

“Good thing you got two then.” You chuckled.

“Oh, well, one of them is…” he looked at them both, turning them and eyeing the sides before choosing one and holding it in front of you. “Yours.” He said, beaming. “Makin’ up for the other day. I hope I got it right.”

You sipped from the hot cup. “A bit more empty than usual, but otherwise, it’s perfect.” You gave him a reassuring grin.

You watched the tension leave his shoulders for a moment, until you heard the door to the lecture hall open. You struggled to look casual as you practically ran from Steven back to your seat, sinking down in your seat.

It was impossible not to feel yourself becoming uncomfortably aroused while he paced back and forth during his lecture. At one point, you found yourself with the end of your pen in between your teeth suggestively, and your legs crossed with your hand tucked into the apex of your thighs. You were watching him openly, not thinking about what he was discussing in the slightest.

Steven caught your eye, and he saw you with the pen between your lips. The way you sat there basically devouring him with your eyes, your arms pushed your breasts up beautifully. Why did you have to wear that damn shirt? Did you do it on purpose? Surely, you didn’t. You wouldn’t. 

You sunk down in your seat again, breaking his line of sight. He had been silently staring for too long and you noticed a couple students looking at you. He cleared his throat and continued the lecture. When you chanced a look up again, he was positioned behind his podium. You furrowed your brow.

You knew. Steven could tell by the way you looked at him with those piercing eyes of yours from above your computer screen. You knew that he was hiding an erection while he stood there. He felt his cheeks get hot. Somehow, he managed to get through the lecture, but to say it was difficult was an understatement. Did you really have to look at him like that? Your eyes were so beautiful, wandering and hungry. He could see, even from where you sat near the back, that you were looking him all over, gaze eating him up even from where he stood behind the podium. 

It was so hard to sit there like that, you knowing what he was hiding behind the podium. You’d never had sex before, but you still thought about what it would be like to have him take you right there on his desk. You imagined him running his arm over the surface and knocking everything off with reckless abandon and having his way with you right then and there.

Class was over both too soon and not soon enough for the thoughts running through your mind. You sped out of there so that you wouldn’t put yourself in another situation where you were alone with him. Though, part of you wanted to be alone with him. A big part of you wanted to be the last student to leave so you could stop, lock the door, and see where this went, but the bigger part of you remembered the reason you were there. You would ruin your future if you kept up this nonsense. Having a harmless fantasy was one thing, acting on it was another, so you decided to let it go.

Until later that is. You hadn’t forgotten that you’d be in his lecture hall again that night around 7:00pm when it was dark, but you’d hoped the awkwardness around the day would be over by then.

You still couldn’t be certain if he had known what you were doing or not, but you remembered. You were still thinking about all the things you wanted to do to him when you walked through the door. He looked up from his papers and over his glasses when you walked in. He pulled the frames off his face and smiled at you, your name falling off his tongue making your spine tingle.

“Why don’t you have a seat,” He said, standing up and grabbing a chair from one of the nearby tables and putting it next to his.

“Yeah, sure.” You said, walking over and sitting down.

You took your laptop bag off your shoulder and put it on the floor. When you took off your jacket, you watched Steven’s eyes catch on to your chest immediately before quickly looking at your face. You watched his throat bob.

“I-I’m sorry but do you think you could put your jacket back on?” He asked, taking you by surprise. “Just a bit inappropriate, innit? That shirt…” 

The shirt wasn’t even that revealing, if Steven was being honest with himself. There was a little cleavage, sure, but nothing he hadn’t seen on several other students that very same day. It was because of the way it made him feel, you wearing it, that made it so much harder for him to handle.

You felt embarrassment wash over you and you wished you’d just worn something more normal. You quickly pulled the jacket back on. It was understandable to you that after the podium situation in class earlier that he would want you to keep yourself covered. It was evident that you were a distraction to him. The thought made you happier than it should’ve.

“Y-yeah, sorry about that. Laundry day you know?” You chuckled, hoping he bought your little lie.

“Oh yeah, I get that. Sorry, wasn’t trying to imply anything it’s just-“

“No, it’s fine. I get it.”

You saw him adjust his pants before settling for crossing his legs. Bless him, he was trying so hard to push it all down and be a good professor. You decided for his sake, and for yours, you’d better try to behave yourself. This wasn’t like you anyway, to act so boldly and put yourself out there. You didn’t know what it was about him that made you want to throw caution to the wind. You pulled the jacket closer to your frame.

“It’s my roommate’s shirt anyway. I don’t wear stuff like that.” You said, breaking the silence.

“Right. So, what is your major?” You wondered if he was irritated by the topic or just trying to stop thinking about the shirt for other reasons.

“Creative writing.” You said. “I know a lot of people don’t think it’s a real major, but I like it.”

“I think that’s great!” His eyes lit up. “I don’t have an artistic bone in my body. Always appreciate someone who’s creative though.” He chuckled. “What do you like to write about?”

This felt more like an interview about you than a lesson on history. He really needed to stop looking at you like that. His eyelids were hooded, deep with longing. Steven was anything but subtle in his lusty gaze, the way his dark irises seemed to twinkle in the dim light of the desk lamp. His eyes were unwavering and focused only on you, like you were the only thing that he cared about. He seemed so genuinely interested in what you were about to tell him.

“All kinds of stuff. R-romance,” your eyes locked to his knowingly. You cleared your throat before you continued, “um, fantasy, sci-fi…” you trailed off, realizing you were picking the skin around your nail. “I don’t know, I don’t really talk about it much.”

“I’m sorry if I made you nervous, it wasn’t intentional.” He furrowed his brow. “I’ve learnt in my years of teachin’ that if I can help give some meaning to history, in relation to the student, it helps them learn it better. Y’know what I mean?”

“That actually makes a lot of sense.” You said, nodding. “So how are you going to relate history to an intergalactic human and alien romance novel?”

I can’t believe I just said that, you thought, feeling yourself get nervous. It’s not like you were trying to impress him or anything, but you also didn’t want him to think you were a total weirdo.

His eyebrows raised, “sorry what?” He stifled a laugh.

“And that’s why I don’t share my writing with anyone.” You felt the heat rising to your face.

“N-n-no, I didn’t mean to sound like I was poking fun, I thought…it sounded like you were joking.” He looked concerned that he actually might have offended you.

“It’s fine.” You smiled, “if I’m being honest though, I would like to see how you can connect the two.” You narrowed your eyes, challenging him.

“Alright…” he trailed off, his lips curling into a ghost of a smile. “Without knowing your plot, unexpected romances and even forbidden ones have been a prevalent part of history since…well…the beginning of time, really.” 

When you’d challenged him, you hadn’t expected him to actually take you up on it. You wondered if he knew the irony of the connections he made as he started discussing famous forbidden loves in history. You also didn’t have the heart to remind him that this tutoring session he was putting you through was completely unrelated to his very own material that he was teaching in class earlier that day.

“I see I’ve lost you, I can see your eyes have sort of…” he waved a hand in front of you, “glazed over.”

You shook yourself out of your thoughts, “I’m really sorry, I was thinking about…something else.”

“Well, to be fair, it wasn’t really related to what we’re discussing in class anyhow.” So he knew he was going off on a tangent.

“That’s alright, clearly you like talking about it. I’m sorry, truly. I’d love to hear you talk more about history. You’re very…passionate.” Instinctively, your hand reached out to touch his shoulder in comfort without thinking. 

You quickly pulled away as though you’d touched a hot flame. He gulped again, eyes glued to yours. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. You cleared your throat and looked down at your notebook.

“Let’s get on with it then, shall we?” He asked, adjusting himself again and scooting his chair closer to the desk.

He looked down at his glasses on the table and stared at them as though he were glaring at his reflection. You didn’t think too much about it, finding yourself distracted by the way his eyes wrinkled on the sides. You liked the way they looked like that. You’d never been interested in older men before, this was all new territory for you, new forbidden territory. He turned to you, startling you out of your train of thought.

“So, tell me what happened, why do you think you failed your class?” He put a sheet of paper over his glasses and then listened to you intently.

You explained how hard it was for you to grasp different dates and how they correlated to certain historical events. Then you went on about how it was hard for you to care about what happened to the people that came before you. At some point while you were talking, you realized his eyes weren’t looking at yours anymore, they were instead fixated dreamily on your lips. Experimentally, you decided to lick them, and then bite your bottom lip. His mouth fell open slightly.

“Erm, yeah, yep.” He shifted in his seat again. He let out a sharp exhale. “I’ve got to…” he put his jacket on. “I’ll be right back.”

Steven rushed to the bathroom. How was he supposed to get through a tutoring session with you when your eyes were staring up at him like that? Constantly hovering over his nether region, freezing on his lips from time to time. He was losing it, his own eyes stuck on your lips and how much he wanted to bite into your bottom lip, especially when you bit down on it. He must’ve looked so foolish trying to hide his growing erection as he nearly ran down the hall to the bathroom. Gripping the sink, he looked in the mirror, unable to understand what was coming over him. He’d never felt like this before, this out of control.

Steven. Marc said clearly from the headspace.

“Go away.” Steven ordered, shuffling into one of the stalls.

He ignored Marc, resolving to deal with him later. Right now he had something more pressing to tend to. He quickly undid his belt and brought his pants and boxer-briefs down to his thighs. His cock was leaking and erect already, it had been for a while. Steven wrapped his fingers around the base, ready to relieve himself but he didn’t know what came over him. This wasn’t like him, but there was something about you, something completely irresistible, something pulling him in that he couldn’t shake.

That shirt you wore really threw him off. The way your breasts sat perfectly in the V, demanding his attention. Then when you talked, seeing your perfect lips and the way your voice sounded while you playfully chatted with him. He grabbed the top of the bathroom stall for stability as he pumped his fist over himself.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he wondered what your lips would feel like in place of his fingers. That sweet mouth, your eyes staring up at him oh, wow, Steven thought, trembling. You were so young, too. Would you even know how to use your mouth on him? Would you look at him while you tried? Even if it was allowed, surely you wouldn’t be interested in him, an older man with an unhealthy history obsession and baggage to boot.

How wrong he was though. 

You were wet and soaking through your panties. Just being around Steven had an effect on you like no other. You weren’t sure where he went, but when he didn’t come back right away you decided to go to the bathroom and clean yourself up and maybe splash some water on your face.

You cleaned yourself up quickly, wanting to make sure you got back to him before he realized you were gone. You kept thinking about the way he looked at your chest, how excited he was talking to you. You were sure you were wrong, but you liked to imagine that the reason he went to the bathroom was to jerk himself off.

“Stop it.” You said to yourself, pulling your pants back up and going to the sink.

Steven’s cock ached with a need to be buried inside of you, a hunger that his palm could only barely satisfy. The stall rattled under the pressure of his grip while he continued stroking his length to the thought of you. He felt dirty, he felt wrong, but it felt so good. And you were so pretty. He dropped a glob of saliva over the shaft to make his fingers slide easier.

You pooled the water in your hands and tossed it over your face. It felt refreshing against your hot cheeks.

“Oh, my…” Steven’s cock pumped spurts of cum into the toilet bowl.

His knuckles turned white around the stall. He hadn’t even taken how loud he was being into consideration, completely lost in the fantasy. It felt so good, he couldn’t help himself. You were dangerous for him, you were leading him to do things he wouldn’t normally do. Like jerk himself off to the thought of you in the bathroom on school grounds. 

He looked in the mirror on his way out, staring at his reflection with a heavy frown while he rinsed his hands clean.

“I’m not saying it again, Marc, or Jake, whoever is listenin’.” He shook his hands dry. “You had the body for years. Leave me alone.”

When the two of you returned to the classroom, it was more awkward than when you’d left. There was no denying he had touched himself. His hair was more disheveled than before, skin so flushed he clearly had been sweating, and now he seemed more calm than when he’d left.

You looked a little flustered, and much more focused than before. Oddly enough, it gave him some semblance of comfort to think that you were both struggling, like you were in it together. He still hoped that this infatuation would fade though, he knew he could lose his job over pursuing it, and he knew that you could face expulsion.

Steven broke the awkwardness by actually tutoring you for the next hour. Now that the pent up sexual desire was temporarily dealt with, the two of you were able to get through a few chapters without a hitch.

“You’ll get it eventually. Takes a bit to memorize it all.” He said, giving you an encouraging smile.

“Thanks, Steven.” You looked down at the floor nervously. “I should probably get back to the dorm, it’s almost nine.”

You grabbed your notebook and pen, putting it in your bag long with your textbook. You stood up, pulling the strap over your shoulder and turning to leave. Steven’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Would you like me to walk you back? Pretty dark out, could be dangerous.” You turned and faced him. “I m-mean if you don’t want me-“

“No, um, I’d like that actually.” You said, smiling. “That would be really nice.”

It can be dangerous for a woman to walk home alone at night, you said to yourself as Steven smiled at you, opening the door. It’s a good idea, a genius idea even, to have him walk you home. You’d be an idiot not to take his help when it’s presented to you.

The two of you were awkwardly silent for a while, until you were nearing Moonbean Coffee. It surprised you when Steven brought up the irony of your meeting each other at the coffee shop.

“What are the odds that you of all people show up behind me and cover my coffee? Of anyone it could’ve been, my student.” He had an air of amusement in his tone.

You looked over at him, sharing in his amusement with a smile of your own.

“I know, like…could’ve been anyone else but it was…” you looked up into his eyes while you walked. “You.”

You both stopped walking and stared at each other for a moment. It may have been a moment too long, but to you it wasn’t long enough. You saw him turn his head and look into his reflection in a car window. His brow furrowed. He was either questioning his life choices, standing there walking his student home, or he was angry at his own image. Either way, he looked back at you finally and smirked.

“So, what do students do around here? Do you go to any…art galleries or…” The two of you started walking again.

Steven, you take her home now, and then never speak to her again outside of class, you hear me? Marc said loudly. Steven ignored him.

“I actually love art galleries, but no, we usually go out drinking or just…” You shrugged, “I don’t know, I guess sometimes I personally like to just read or write.”

“Oh? Do you have a favorite book?”

Steven? Are you listening?

You stopped in front of your dorm building door.

“That answer will have to wait for another day. This is my stop.”

You fantasized for a moment that Steven would just lean forward and kiss you. For just a moment, you lived in a world where nothing mattered except you and him and he could pull you close. Where he was just a sweet guy you met at the coffee shop who walked you home, bidding you goodnight. But it was just a fantasy, and instead he gave you an awkward and strained, “g’night!” with a wave before walking swiftly away from you.

What you didn’t see was Steven stopping on the street corner next to the rearview mirror of a parked car.

“Steven, I shouldn’t have to tell you that this is wrong.” Marc said, scowling at Steven in the reflection.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I don’t want to be, but you’re going to mess everything up...Steven, what are you…”

Steven wasn’t the angry type, and he wasn’t sure if it was the pent up guilt fueling his rage, or if it was something else, but he wasn’t going to let Marc run his life. He ripped the mirror off the car and threw it into the street. He’d already taken a backseat and let them ruin his life for long enough. He wasn’t going to do it again. Marc and Jake had the body for years, forcing him through a living hell, it was his turn now. They’d promised.

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[wizardemotions]

some very scattered thoughts on slytherin harry (and also the platinum quartet in general), under a readmore for you and my convenience:

my personal slyth harry is still gonna grow up and take over as DADA professor, because imho taking him out of hogwarts, the first place he ever felt at home, the place he met, like, damn near everyone he cares about, is contradictory and at worst character murder.

pq harry still starts up the DA under pressure not just from ron and hermione but also draco this time (a draco who is already terrified over what side his father is going to come down on, and a draco who is deeply and increasingly aware of how he *will* have to fight) but i figure that the name is actually rather up for debate. only reason DA would win out is gryffindor influence. there's other contenders tho (including salazar's heralds, courtesy of draco, because they MILKED the "harry is the heir of slytherin!!!" thing for all it was fucking worth in second year. half the school is still convinced he *is* the heir of slytherin and just sorta beat a usurper's ass with his big fuckoff snake)

furthermore, DADA prof slyth harry also takes over from snape as head of slytherin house --

-- and on the note of good ol severus, this is a severitus household. even if he doesn't take the leo inter serpentes route and does not straight up adopt harry, seeing mini james potter with jumpscare lily eyes get sorted slytherin alongside an entire weasley and watching them both befriend draco Fucking malfoy (and furthermore watch said malfoy befriend a muggleborn gryffindor girl) is enough of a shock to sev's system he can approach harry a little less on the defensive from the jump. this is deeply hilarious to me, because i think that slyth harry would be much more like james than canon harry - as in, i think slytherin as a house is an environment that fosters a bit of ego, because it doesn't discourage pride in oneself. and by god do i think james had an ego for a bit there

and on the note of severitus! i also think that in this particular au, remus sirius and severus are all sorta parental figures, and remus seeing severus care so deeply for his dead best friend's kid is plenty for him to try and get along w sev. this just leads to remus n severus being, like, pretty cool w each other, and remus having an "okay boys. get along for harry's sake. and also mine please" moment w sev n sirius. (do i think the three of them should also bang? yeah obviously but that's not relevant to harry's story. i digress lmfao)

if i were to write this thing (and i don't know if i will but i would love to see it realized so i might have to at least try) i think that harry would need a bit of a rival slash annoyance in the vein of canon draco, and i think it'd have to be a little gryffindor who fully believed the "slytherin is Thee Evil House" bullshit, who'd end up foreshadowing the horcrux in the very first book by telling harry they thought voldy left a bit of himself behind and that's why harry is in slytherin. idk who that would be but i think id have to workshop it a little.

finally i also think i would have to write it a little grittier than canon. not like, too grimdark, but definitely just realistic - some grit, some goof, some sweetness, and some despair, much like the real world is

this was very scattered but i have a lot of thoughts and feelings about this au

[notmaplemable]

Weapons of Summer Love Part 10

Everyone made mistakes.

Willow choosing to leave her home, to try to become a huntress, was the worst that she had ever made. At least, that's what she thought when she decided to leave Beacon.

Ozpin: Ms. Schnee, I know how... difficult it is to recover from the loss of a teammate, let alone a partner, but I believe that leaving your team is a poor decision.

Willow: It's not a decision I make lightly.

Ozpin: I'm sure you've spent the last few days convincing yourself that becoming a huntress in training was a mistake, but-

Willow: With all do respect, it's an easy decision to come to, and one that you will not convince me to abandon.

Ozpin: Hmmm. If you believe a change of scenery could help, I could have you transferred to one of the other academies. Such as in Atlas.

Willow: I have no interest in transferring. I simply wish to return to where I belong.

Ozpin: ...Hmm. I'll have the necessary paperwork delivered to your dorm within the hour.

Willow: Thank you.

Ozpin: Hmm.

------

Minutes later, Willow exits the elevator leading up to Ozpin's office. Finding an almost empty room, except for one Summer Rose. Who's team she'd grown particularly close to.

Willow would even call her a good friend.

Summer: Willow!

Willow: Hello Summer, I see you're recovering well.

Summer: Yeah, I guess. Why were you in Prof. Ozpin's office for?

Willow: I was just doing the post mission debriefing, since Blanche is still recovering.

Summer: Oh, that's what I'm about to do.

Willow: Hmm, how's Qrow?

Summer: He's going stir crazy in the infirmary, but he's healing well. You should go visit him.

Willow: That's... No, I unfortunately have some matters to attend to. But would you mind delivering this to him after you're done? *Holds out a letter addressed to Qrow*

Summer: Oh, umm, sure. Is it... a dirty letter?

Willow: *Chuckles* No, but I would appreciate if you didn't read it before delivering it to him.

Summer: Oh, of course! Do you need anything- Ooh!

Willow: *Hugs Summer* Thank you. For everything.

Summer: You're welcome? Are you sure everything is okay?

Willow: *Pulls away* Of course. Now, I have to... attend to some business. I'll see you soon.

Summer: You know, maybe we can do something with both of our teams? You know... after... you know what, nevermind. I'll just see you soon.

And that would be the last time Willow would see anyone from STRQ for many years.

Too many years.

[cars2-renaissance]

I did it, y’all, I figured it out

So waaaaaay back in 2011 or so, my scheming child brain had come up with all these Loki-level theories on how Leland actually survived the oil rigs. I had it all figured out. I knew how he did it. And the real kicker is that it was all technically canon compliant which anyone who has seen the movie will have my 13-year-later response of “how the fu-“

Like it’s just not possible!! That scene was unambiguous. He was very extraordinarily DEAD.

BUT! 9 year old me was like nahhh he’s alive. They’re keeping him locked up in a secret dungeon at the bottom of one of the oil rig legs! Like I was convinced!

So it’s been bothering me ever since I got back into the fandom a few months ago. How did I work that out? Then finally. It came to me.

I FIGURED IT OUT!!!!!

This may have kept me up for the majority of last night BUT!!!!

What if Torque was already on the oil rigs when Leland got there? What if he was on the boat?? What if he heard rumors of this British spy they had captured, found him and was like "ey I got this, don't worry fellas, I'll take care of this one."

Then throws the lemons out of the room, turns to Leland, and is like "what in the star spangled fuck are you doing?!"

So they're on a boat and Leland has already been captured. He's got frickin blow torch burns and the lemons are planning on bringing him back to the rigs for further questioning but Torque is like "I've got a better idea. Let's fake your death then I'LL sneak you out of here."

So we all know Torque's disguise is not just projected. He's got an actual physical disguise. Now any well-prepared agent would be carrying a spare disguise devise in case the first one failed—LELAND FRICKING TURBO WHAT THE HAEL WERE YOU DOING— but here's this poor bastard about to be tortured to death so Torque uses the spare to run a scan of Leland and then puts it on some idk wheelbarrow??? and voilà! it now looks just like him!

But Leland is like “it looks like me, but it’s not going to take them long to figure it out.” But Torque is like, “Don’t worry about it,” and runs the decoy into a trash compactor and we get an ironic scene of Leland like "damn that could've been me..." then Torque hides him in an empty crate while he gets the other lemons and is like "haha look what I did to that crummy agent! I killed him haha!" And they're like "moron!! We could've gotten information out of him!"

But they unload the crates from the boat. Leland is waiting on Torque to get him out of there. He knows Finn is coming, but he can't call him now. The lemons probably took his comm. they probably broke his axles too or something to keep him from getting away. So he's totally at Torque's mercy here. Then he hears a commotion and shit, that's probably Finn. *rapid gunfire* *screeching tires* *huge explosion* yeah that's definitely Finn. Then there's just dead silence. And shit that's the worst part.

Okay after this, it really gets complicated. Finn wreaked havoc on those bastards so there was a great deal of confusion. Torque has to play along. Maybe he got sent to the boats again? But he wasn't able to make it back to get Leland out of the crate so the lemons unload the crate first and are like how in the fuck?

So now we've got ourselves a pickle cause Prof Z figures out someone helped Leland fake his death. There's no way he could've done it by himself. Now they've got either a traitor or another spy on board. They try questioning Leland about it but he doesn't give out so they toss him a holding cell in one of the oil rig legs to stew in the salt water and contemplate life. I'm sure they told him Finn was dead.

Torque comes back and awwwSHIT the crate is gone!!! And now all the lemons are on edge so he can't even ask about it without outing himself. All he can do is assume they killed that poor agent after all, and he had to keep on with his with mission, now even more precarious.

Some time passes, Torque goes to Tokyo with the main crew so he can offload the intel he got but he never makes it. And we all know what happens after that.

Finn keeps up his killing spree. We get the events of cars 2. The lemon operation gets shut down and the oil rigs get cleared out except, there's still a pretty red Jag stuck in one of the oil rig's legs :) (don’t worry we’ll rescue him)

[giantologist]

Relics and Remains

The find of a lifetime!

"Professor Finch? You in there?"

With a snort, Finch jolted from his desk, a sheet of paper stuck to his cheek. He pulled it off with a yawn, setting it down and looking at the clock. Seven in the morning. He'd stayed at his desk all night again, only catching half an hour's sleep. Stretching his back, he grumbled as he walked to the balcony that he'd had installed for precisely this purpose.

He recognised the giant kneeling before him, her face above him dirty and slightly sweaty. "Good morning, Skadi." Finch smiled tiredly at her. She'd shaved her head since he last saw her, but he recognised her tattoos and frankly incredible muscle structure. If he were the kind to be attracted to women, he was certain that she'd catch his eye.

"You are not gonna believe this." Skadi said with a squeak that made Finch feel a mix of anticipation and suspicion.

"Right, so, yeah, after you gave those dwarves a recommendation to hire me as a miner, we've been really seeing progress, I've been expanding their tunnels bigger than they ever dreamed. I'm so great at it too, not to blow my own whistle, but the other day--"

Finch held up a finger. "I've just woken up, I need some coffee, but do continue." He left the doors open as he walked downstairs, hearing Skadi's voice just as easily as before as it thrummed through the walls.

"We were excavating deeper, under Scarfang Pass, and Tarlan told me he'd found a cavern down the way. Naturally, I wanted to take a look, and I spent all day digging a path, found some good ore for the lads, but you will never guess what was in the cavern."

The sunlight in his kitchen was cut off, and he turned to see a large eye at his window, focusing in on him. "Tell me what was in the cavern."

"You might wanna sit down."

"Skadi, please, I am very tired."

She laughed, rumbling his crockery, and he held his coffee tightly. "I've only gone and found a burial chamber for a colossal giant."

Smash.

Finch froze, not caring about the hot coffee wetting his slippers. "You…Are you serious?! If you tell me you're joking--"

"I'm not! I actually think it might be King Bjorn, y'know the legendary one."

"You mean Bjorn Fire-Feared?!" The fabled King had been damaged by the tragic death of his family, and ruled an entire province where fire was banned upon pain of death. It was such an ancient story that it seemed like it should be unbelievable. But never had Finch heard of a complete skeleton that old, as cremation was usually the done thing. "Oh, goodness, oh my, oh, Skadi!" He began to jump around in the puddle of coffee, clapping his hands and flailing them wildly. "Let's go!" He flung open his door and ran outside, only to stop in his tracks when two grubby fingers pinched his dressing gown.

"Hold on there, Prof." She curled her middle finger around his waist and lifted him up to his balcony. "You ain't goin' in the mines in your silkies. Get your boots on and pack a lunch. He's not about to get up and walk off."

As much as Finch wanted to rush, he knew she was right. He'd get his adventuring gear too, as it was better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it.

oOo

They were close. On their walk, Skadi had been gushing about how much she loved working. He remembered when the dwarves had come to him asking for help getting rid of her from her cave that she had excavated herself. Their 180 in their opinion of her had been down to him, and it seemed that although their warming to her was slow-going, they did in fact enjoy her presence around the mines.

"Finbar is the worst for it though. Every day at lunch he always pretends he's lost his, and yes I don't mind giving humans crumbs, but have you seen how much a dwarf can eat? They're like bottomless pits, I end up with a half empty lunchbox by the time I've finished letting the lads eat what they want. They always joke about me snacking on them, and I've half a mind to if they think about touching my honey cake."

"Remind me not to get between you and your sweet tooth then." Finch replied from her shoulder, glad that she'd found somewhere she fit in.

Speaking of fitting in, the entrance to the mine she led him to was nowhere near big enough for her to stand. Finch was confused until he noticed the grooves in the rock on the edges of the tunnel. It seemed that to get to the main excavation, she crawled along the trenches, any miners and carts passing safely beneath her. As for transport, she slipped him into a pocket on her shoulder, seemingly oriented for just this occasion.

Finch didn't like being underground. A cave, that was fine. A canyon, he could deal with. But a tunnel that sunk into the darkness, unlit and endless, he had to duck into the pocket in order to keep himself calm.

The relief when she finally stood once more made him feel dizzy, but she nudged him onto her shoulder. "Here we go." Her voice echoed for what seemed like years as she used a nearby sconce to light her torch. As it flared into flames, Finch gasped so hard he almost choked.

The steeple of the tallest temple would be dwarfed by the breadth of the skull staring at the pair of them. Despite the intensity of the torchlight, it was difficult to make out even the beginning of the rib bones that xylophoned down toward the rest of the skeleton. It was almost unfathomable in its scale, Finch's jaw slack, his eyes boggling, bereft of speech. He could tell that Skadi was smirking at him, waiting for him to voice his amazement, but he couldn't even move, his body rigid and stunned. Never had he seen a complete skeleton. A tooth, perhaps. A finger bone, maybe. One faceplate buried into a mountainside. But nothing compared to this.

"Should we leave then?"

"Certainly not!" Finch shrieked, his shrill echo sounding like the cave was full of birds. "Oh, to be immortal, to study every inch of this cavern! It would take me centuries!"

"Let's just start with this, eh?" Skadi turned and lifted her torch. The wall above the ancient King's skull sent flickering shadows between the grooves of runes and pictograms, and immediately Finch gave her earring an excited tug forward, making her chuckle as she stepped toward it. "Heh. Don't recognise that dialect."

"It's from the birth of giantish runes! Look, it's even before the letter atte was standardised! Torch left." She did as he asked, illuminating one of the pictures with accompanying runes. "This was meant to be his epitaph. 'Tal vusar kan ur naum'. The Tomb of the Lord of Ruin." He exhaled shakily, his skin rising in gooseflesh. "The carving shows Bjorn Fire-Feared banning the use of fire. Those people there are freezing, those are starving, there's no tools or weapons being made. Torch right."

The next carving made him shudder. "He would send armies of humans and giants to punish anyone continuing to light fires. This says a village was struck by lightning, and he personally flattened it with two steps."

Skadi whistled. "What a shitty guy."

"I don't understand why they went to so much trouble to bury him if he was this abhorrent! Why not simply burn him and celebrate being free?" Finch twirled his moustache in thought. "Skadi, would you mind if I asked you for a favour?"

"As long as you sketch me beside the skull and put it in the book."

"With pleasure!" He smiled. "I need a little more light. Could you set up some braziers, perhaps? Just along the wall, and around his skull?" He pushed his spectacles up his long nose. "I should get these enchanted with dark vision…"

"Sure, Prof. Just a minute." Skadi looked around and reached for a stalagmite, breaking off the point with a tug of her mighty arm. She set Finch on the flat surface so she didn't accidentally tread on him, then her light retreated with her rumbling steps. He could hear her thundering voice calling for various dwarves to help her.

He dangled his legs over the edge of his rocky platform, closing his eyes and taking a breath to steady his heart. "How did you die? Some legends say you went mad and set light to yourself, but that clearly isn't true. Others say you gorged yourself on so many towns that the buildings burst your stomach. I've heard you were murdered by your closest friend. I can't imagine you were close to anyone. Perhaps if you were, you might not have been so cruel."

Skadi's booming presence passed him in the dark, and he envied her low-light vision for a moment, hearing clanks and clangs from all around him. Flint and steel. The roof of the cavern was suddenly lit with the impression of a skull as Skadi lit the first fire inside the King's head since he had died. One by one, slowly but surely, she cast light on the area for him, dusting off her hands once she was finished. Their area of the cave wasn't bright, but after so long in the dark, Finch could see relatively clearly. "There we go. Want me to walk you down?"

"Please." He hopped onto her hand so she could transfer him back to her shoulder, and she began at the start of the wall. As he got out his journal, she kept quiet, knowing he probably wouldn't answer her even if she did speak. He used her ear lobe to steer her almost as an extension of his own body, able to write at his own pace as the history unfurled before him.

Bjorn Fire-Feared used to be called Bjorn Stone-Hand, one of the few remaining colossal giants after the appearance of the other races, when a world of rock and bone became verdant and green. He proclaimed himself King to stop giants and humans from being at war, and it worked for a time, his country prospering so much that it could support two of his kind. His firstborn was praised as a Prince, and the land was happy. Until dissenters used pitch to set his house alight, killing his family. And then the dark times. His spiral into madness, dragging a whole nation into the cold. Almost the entire kingdom dug the grave to his command, many perishing as a result.

"He planned it." Finch said, startling Skadi. He easily kept balanced as she jumped, second nature to him, and she exhaled sharply, her heart audibly fast. "Of course he did, he died here! Nobody could've moved his body, he came here willingly!"

"So how did he die?"

"It doesn't say." Finch tapped his chin with his pencil. "Let's go look at his bones, see if I can find anything."

She nodded and turned away from the wall, approaching the skeleton. Almost vibrating with excitement, Finch stared upward with amazement at the mountainous reach of the King's jawbone, Skadi trailing her hand against it as she ducked through the letterbox shaped slot where his front teeth used to lay, into what was his mouth. "Must've been odd for giants my size back then. Not the biggest fish in the pond."

"Is easily fitting in someone's mouth changing your perspective?" Finch asked, motioning to be set down.

"Yeah, I guess it is." Skadi put Finch on the ground and passed him a torch that was comparatively a splinter. He lit it from the brazier, then began slowly walking from one end of the skull to the other. "He really had bad dental hygiene. Look at the holes there."

Finch paused by one of his bottom molars, humming with thought as he scaled his jawbone so as to better see. "There's a cavity."

"I rest my case." Skadi said with a grin, jamming her torch between two of the teeth and hopping backwards onto them as one might a countertop, sitting comfortably.

Gasping softly, Finch realised the hole was large enough for him to fit into, the edges rounded and smooth, the inside of the tooth hollow. A collection of objects, most rotted away, sat inside the tooth, along with what seemed like a human skeleton. "Wait a second." He flicked through his notes. "That phrase, it was literally 'fang hermit', it wasn't a metaphor. I think this must've been some kind of political prisoner." He scribbled something down. "Let's see… She must have lived here for some time, considering how worn her doorway is. And I think she may have been shackled to the enamel."

Skadi grimaced. "He really must have been bonkers. Imagine living in some geezer's tooth, eugh."

Finch cleared his throat, straightening his glasses. "Does this practice ring any bells to you?"

"Not a tinkle. I guess whatever it was, it was a big guy thing." Skadi hummed. "How did she feed herself?"

Finch stroked his chin. "One would suspect the same way a symbiosis would function..." Something felt odd about this. Not a single tooth he'd found in his life was the same as Bjorn's. He carefully lifted the scrap of fabric upon which the bones lay, moving it away from the pile without jostling the skeleton. He rummaged through the various bits and pieces, most of them being the usual detritus one might expect to see caught between a large giant's teeth; wood and bone and brick. However, buried in the smallest corner he found a metal lockbox, beautifully designed, screwed into the wall of the tooth. Trying not to damage either, he carefully used a nearby piece of metal to pry the box open, the rusted lock breaking with a shriek.

A leather-bound journal looked up at him as if proud to have weathered the wear of time. He was very careful with it regardless, and he stepped out onto the bone that surrounded the tooth house, sitting and tentatively opening the pages.

Skadi watched as he read, hearing his soft gasps and excited titters as he whispered the words to himself. "Well? Good read?"

"I translated the wall wrong. The two giants the land could support weren't he and his wife, it was him and his son. This is his wife."

Wrinkling her nose, Skadi slid from her sitting position and walked over, taking a knee beside Finch. "He imprisoned his wife in his mouth? That's messed up."

"O-Oh…" Finch exhaled when he turned the page. "She was just as disturbed by the fire as he was. She didn't want to lose him too, and after a failed poisoning, she wanted to be vigilant and make sure all of his food was clean." He tapped the page. "The chain was a safety measure. She must have really loved him to give up her life to keep him safe."

"If she did such a good job, what killed them both?"

Finch flipped through the pages. "She died first. There's no record of anything past the destruction of the town that was struck by lightning."

"Yeah, so that means… What does that mean?"

Suddenly alert, Finch leapt to his feet, slowly walking along the bony platform that held the teeth in place. "Let's see… If I could just… Aha!" He reached between two teeth and pulled out the long-rotted husk of a large seed, the size of a grape. "Titanfeller berries."

Skadi almost knocked Finch off his perch when she scrambled backward, and he could hear her nervous pulse through the rock. "Don't you bring that near me!" Finch still hadn't discovered what it was about titanfellers that was toxic to giants but not humans. Still, he was thankful that the seeds weren't viable. The near-extinction of a plant should've been sad to him, but he was happy that they wouldn't be used for nefarious purposes.

"Just don't lick anything, you'll be fine." He twirled his moustache around his index finger. "So… What do we know?" He carefully climbed down to the rocky floor, strolling beneath the jaw and down beside the alien architecture of his spine. Away from the braziers, he couldn't see the ribs that arched above him, but he knew they were there, the whole skeleton mapped in his head. "Did he move here to die after being poisoned?" He mumbled.

"Aren't Kings usually buried with riches?" A male voice said from somewhere in the darkness, startling Finch. "I haven't seen any gold."

Finch lifted his torch, seeing the glittering eyes of a dwarf, sitting on a rock below the root of a rib. "Ah, rather astute, Mr…?"

"Call me Gudrun."

Skadi seemed to have composed herself, and walked over to the pair. "I've told you about Gudrun, haven't I? He's got a kid with a giantess near here."

Curiosity piqued, Finch looked at the dwarf with a smile. "Oh! Wonderful to make your acquaintance! May I ask you about that at a later date?"

"Yeah. Skadi knows where I am." Gudrun stroked his beard, looking around at the skeleton. "So, what have you found out about this guy?"

Finch explained the story behind the carvings, and what he'd found in Bjorn's skull. "I just don't understand the circumstances surrounding his death. His wife died… Then he died…"

Gudrun's bushy brows furrowed. "Well, if my wife died, Gods forbid, I know I'd struggle with living on."

Skadi hummed. "I wonder why he left her there."

Finch perked up, clapping excitedly. "That's it!" He grinned at the pair. "Think about it, if you'd just seen the King crush an entire village, would you risk being within biting distance?" He looked toward the illuminated eye sockets. "So he ate the berries voluntarily."

There was a moment of quiet before Gudrun cleared his throat. "Will you be wantin' his effects? He's got a ring on his left hand, seems valuable."

Finch perked up again. "Oh! Wonderful!" He almost ran, his torchlight fading into the gloom.

Skadi blew through tight lips, a hand on her waist, and Gudrun nodded with understanding. "...Your people are real strange." He said, and she shrugged with casual agreement. "My big girl, she has all kinds of customs that just twist my brain."

The pair heard an excited jumble of theories and conclusions echoing from somewhere in the dark. "None are as strange as humans."

"You're right there, lass."

When Skadi finally went to go see what Finch was so excited about, she was unimpressed. She expected piles upon piles of jewels. "What's that ring made of?"

Finch grinned up at her as he traced the patterns with his fingertip. "I don't know! That doesn't matter right now! Look at this! Oh, this is wonderful." He pushed a long button with all of his strength, and the ring popped open. It was far too heavy for him to open all the way, but Skadi leant a hand, and he stood on the finger bone to peer inside it. "There's a whole room in here!" He cried, leaping over the metal wall. The floor was carpeted, the walls lined with built-in furniture, long-since faded and freyed. Each had a number of hoops, presumably for attaching safety ropes to.

"You think he kept people in here?" Skadi asked, Gudrun appearing over the edge of the ring, looking like he was levitating without Skadi's hand in view.

As Finch immediately began to study the journals and sketches around him, Skadi set up another brazier for him, not wanting him to get eyestrain.

Gudrun touched the metal, then knocked on it. "Pure macronium. Y'know, this stuff is only found in meteorites, but as an ore it's unstable enough to dissipate on impact." When he noticed the pair looking at him, he cleared his throat somewhat bashfully. "The wife has a necklace with a small amount of it. It's a sacred thing."

"Yeah, my Pa said only people touched by the gods could smith with macronium. You've got to crack open the meteor with your bare hands, then slowly and patiently melt it down." She pressed her hand against the cold metal too. "Bet if humans listened to our legends instead of stabby-stabby they'd really find that interesting."

Finch opened a cupboard that was built into the wall, lifting his torch to get a better look. "OH! Books!"

Gudrun looked back to Finch who was reading with one hand and writing with the other. "Anything good?"

"I can't understand a word of this! Oh, how exciting! This must be where his Queen used to live, before the fire." He flipped through a few more with fingers practised in the art of being tender with artifacts. "This will keep me up all night! A few more hours without sleep won't do me any harm."

Skadi poked her tongue into her cheek as she thought. "You haven't been sleepin' at all, have you, Prof?"

"A few stray moments here and there. But that's not important!" He waved his hand at her, carefully filling his satchel with as much information as he could. "What is important is that I have so many answers! And even more new questions!" He beckoned her hand, hopping into it eagerly. "Let's keep going!"

Skadi shook her head. "Oh, no no. I'm not taking you anywhere." When he looked like he might try and leave her grasp, she curled her fingers firmly around him, making him yelp and check to make sure the papers were undamaged. "You're gonna have a nap."

"I'm not tired, I promise." He pushed at her fingers, but they wouldn't budge. "Please, I've got to see more! I had half an hour last night, that was sufficient." He knew that beyond reasoning, there wasn't much he could do. A giant had the ability to make anyone do anything they wanted.

"Hey, we discovered this tomb, so our rules apply. It's our lunch hour anyway." She scolded as she sat down on the rocky floor, leaning against the breadth of the ring band. "You want in, Gudrun?"

The dwarf nodded with a grin. "I never turn down an opportunity to have a kip."

Skadi placed the pair of them on the warm fabric on her chest, a stark contrast from the cold of the cave, and Finch huffed. "It's easy for you. I've only got my life to spend studying your kind. Both of you know that isn't a lot."

"A nap won't kill you, Prof. Don't make me swaddle you." Skadi grumbled. Gudrun was already almost asleep, and Finch sighed dramatically as he flopped onto his back. He realised then how exhausted he was, his mind still racing, but his body thanking him profusely for resting.

"...Gudrun?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me about your wife?"

The dwarf stretched out, opening one eye to look at Finch. "Absolutely savage, she is. Tall, sharp teeth, penchant for raw meat, the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on. She can rip open a dragon with her bare hands and feast on its still warm carcass."

"It seems as though she's perfect for you." Finch pondered softly. "What's her name, this ferocious beast of a woman?"

"Carol."

Skadi shushed them, knowing Finch wouldn't stop the questions there, but he got the message, closing his eyes. Just a little nap. Then he'd get to work. Five minutes...