#does this count as a clinical study

[kirishwima]

btw. important clinical question. does anyone else get their period cramps like almost exclusively on their lower back???

[pathologicalreid]

a love song for lady earth | s.r.

in which reader has her first experience with munch!spencer

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: oral (fem receiving), munch!spencer, a little bit of overstim, d/s dynamics if you spin in circles and then squint, pwp, cumming untouched, fingering, dirty talk, a little praise word count: 2.16k a/n: this one goes out to everyone who's ever gotten shitty head from shitty guys. also to people who like their men a little pathetic.

“What are you doing?” Your voice comes out higher than you anticipated. The slight panic in your tone sets your boyfriend on high alert, his eyebrows rising in curiosity as he hovers over you.

Spencer pulls himself up until you meet his eyes, concern and lust fusing together to create nothing short of confusion. He studies your expression, investigating your interruption with the kind of delicacy that he always has when approaching intimacy, “Baby,” he starts, “Have you ever received oral sex before?”

Your lips part in surprise, wondering why that’s the conclusion he comes to, “I have,” you respond hesitantly. “I just—” you falter, “You don’t have to.”

His confusion deepens, “I don’t have to what?”

“You don’t have to give me head,” you answer timidly, “Because it’s not— you just don’t have to.”

Languidly, Spencer drags his fingertips up and down your inner thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “It’s not what? Now you have to tell me.”

You groan in frustration, looking up at the ceiling fan while you search for words that won’t set your cheeks ablaze, “I don’t like it, and I know guys don’t like it. So, you just… we can skip that part.”

“Just out of curiosity, what about it don’t you like?” Spencer asks, sitting up fully between your legs, one hand resting on your knee, keeping your legs parted.

Looking down at him, you chew on the inside of your lip, knowing you have his undivided attention when you speak up, “I just don’t get any pleasure out of a guy trying to French with my vagina while I fake moan.”

“Ah,” Spencer breathes, “So, you’ve never received good oral sex before,” he amends his previous question.

Propping yourself up on your hands, you raise your eyebrows doubtfully, “I’m not entirely convinced there is such a thing, and will you please stop calling it oral sex? It sounds so clinical.”

He crawls over to you, putting his face right in front of yours, “Do you trust me?”

You frown, “Of course I do, what does that have to do with any of this?”

“Would you be willing to let me go down on you?” The earnestness in his tone catches you by surprise. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he wants to eat you out.

Humming affectionately, you tilt your head at him, “Do you really want to? I always thought guys hated doing it.”

Spencer raises his eyebrows, “Then I guess that demographic doesn’t apply to me.”

“Oh,” you breathe, “You can… We can try,” you offer. Nerves twist in your lower belly as his eyes widen ever so slightly, your eyes fall shut as he leans his head forward, pressing his lips to yours while his hand starts to pull at the waistband of your panties.

Your boyfriend’s lips are almost unfairly soft against your own as his hands continue to undress you, pushing your t-shirt up around your waist and pulling down your underwear to the middle of your thighs. Pressing his forehead against yours, Spencer pulls away ever so slightly, “You can always tell me if you want me to stop, alright?”

Nodding, you can’t help but be curious about his plan. You find yourself questioning every partner you’ve had in the past, or maybe Spencer just has a special talent with his mouth—he certainly was good at running it. “Yes,” you say, kissing him again before he moves his head down.

“Thank you,” he mutters, bringing his head back down to where it was before you’d stopped him. Spencer lazily drags your panties down your legs, flinging them across the room to be found later before dropping his head between your knees, littering small, slow kisses along the insides of your thighs. “Pretty girl,” he hums, inspecting your glistening sex with peaked interest.

Your cunt clenches around nothing at his words, earning a chuckle from Spencer as he set on top of your mound, pulling the skin taut before blowing cool air on you. You jump in response, looking down at where he’s smirking from between your legs. Admittedly, you’d never felt so dizzy at the prospect of having a man go down on you, he just looks so pretty.

He hums absentmindedly, “Just making sure you’re paying attention,” he teases.

There could be an air raid siren going off and you’d still be too focused on him to take cover. His movements are calculated as he exposes your clit to the air, leaning his head down and pressing his tongue flat against your folds, licking a stripe before readjusting himself on the bed.

A constellation of feather-light kisses is left everywhere, your inner thighs, up toward your hip bone—everywhere except where you really need him. Your clit aches with need as he continues to tease you, the pad of his thumb skimming ever so slightly over the sensitive bud, relieving only a fraction of the pressure that’s building up. “Spence,” you breathe.

“Are you enjoying this?” He asks, lifting his head up and looking at you curiously.

You nod once, “Are you?” You challenge.

His head drops again, and your breath hitches when he answers, “Immensely.”

Spencer continues but doesn’t move on, studying your anatomy so intently that it only serves to turn you on even more. His hand ghosts over your folds, running a finger over your slit and chuckling when your hips buck up in response to the stimulation.

He could’ve gotten you to beg, had that been his goal, you would’ve babbled please so incessantly that the word no longer held any meaning, but that wasn’t what Spencer wanted. He wanted you to enjoy receiving pleasure in a way that no man had ever wanted before.

“You’re just so fucking perfect,” he murmurs, watching you intently.

Before you had a chance to reply, his mouth was on you again, his tongue deftly slipping between your folds and poking at your entrance. Other than working you up, you didn’t feel any different than you had previously. You give a gentle hum of encouragement—at least he tried, and at least you’d be wet enough for sex.

Spencer curls his tongue, dragging your slick up to your clit, and that’s where he finally got you. His tongue pressed firmly against the bundle of nerves as you squirm beneath him, your body moving faster than your brain as your hips move away from his mouth, “Shh,” Spencer coos, “It’s okay, baby. I know it’s a lot. I’ve got you.”

Taking a deep shuddering breath, you nod. You open your mouth to form a reply, but the only thing that comes out is a breathy sigh.

Carefully, Spencer moves your legs, placing your thighs on top of his shoulders, giving you one more glance before diving back in, kitten-licking your clit while you try to catch your breath.

“Spence,” you cry, feeling an orgasm that you previously hadn’t thought was possible building in your lower belly. A swarm of nerves and aches of pleasure thrumming through your body like electricity.

He readjusts, lifting his head more so that his lips can wrap around the sensitive nub, his mouth gently suckling on it.

At a loss for what to do with your hand, they find their way down to his head, weaving your fingers through his hair as his ministrations drive you closer and closer to an orgasm. Tugging at the soft curls earns a groan from him, the vibrations on your clit causing you to cry out, “Oh my god.”

He drops one of your legs, moving his hand up to grab one of yours before you cum, squeezing his hand as he gently nips at your clit, further encouraging your orgasm.

“I’m— ah, please,” you babble nervously, inhaling sharply as your orgasm washes over you, cunt clenching around nothing as Spencer’s mouth continues working at you, licking softly as your back arches off of the bed, sweat causing the sheets to stick to your skin.

Your thighs are trembling by the time Spencer comes back up, his mouth shining with your arousal as he breathes as heavily as you. His hand cups your sensitive sex when he leans forward, leaning in to kiss your lips.

The taste of yourself on his lips doesn’t even cross your mind as you cup the back of his head and pull his mouth to yours. The tang of your own cunt on your tongue draws a moan from the back of your throat, and you jump when one of Spencer’s fingers gently teases your interest, the sensitivity from your previous orgasm making your head spin.

“Can I go back?” Spencer asks, looking down at his hand briefly before returning to your eyes for permission.

Your mouth gapes, “You want more?”

He groans in response, “Angel, I’d spend all day between your thighs if you’d let me.”

Your stomach flips, mourning the fact that you had plans in the afternoon, “I might just take you up on that someday.”

Lifting your body from the pillows, Spencer tugs your t-shirt the rest of the way off your body, leaving you fully nude in front of him, “Fuck,” he groans, gently guiding your back to the mattress as he attaches his lips to your neck, leaving your fingers clawing at his back.

His head moves lower, nipping and sucking at your collarbones, leaving light marks as he makes his way down to your chest. His lips scatter kisses all along your breasts as he moves down, down, down. Right until he’s right where you want him, and right where he wants to be. “Oh,” you whimper, taking in a shaky breath while he tentatively presses his index finger into your wet hole.

“Poor baby,” Spencer coos at your sensitivity, “You’re doing so well, letting me fuck you with my mouth. All you needed was someone to suck your clit.”

You sigh dazedly in response, every thought in your mind evacuating as his mouth drops to your pussy again, languidly lapping at your cunt while his finger eases into you, “You’re so good at this.”

He hums against you in response, the vibrations causing your body to shudder and your hands to return to their home in his hair. The feeling of his mouth gently sucking on that little bundle of nerves and his finger starting to thrust makes your walls clench.

A strangled moan escapes your mouth when he adds a second finger, his second and third fingers driving into you with a steady rhythm as his tongue flicks your clit in calculated movements. The recognition of your impending orgasm hits you, “’m close,” you breathe, gasping as his movements don’t relent, tears prick at your eyes as you chase that high.

Spencer pushes your legs further apart with his spare hand, keeping your thighs from closing around his head as he moans against your cunt. You pull on his hair, eliciting another groan from him that sends you hurtling into your second orgasm, crying out his name like a prayer as he tapers off his ministrations.

His hand slows first, gently working you through your orgasm as his tongue laps at your clit, gentle movements soothing the hypersensitive spot as you catch your breath, tears trickling down your cheeks as you smooth out the hair on his head. He pulls away from you, releasing your trembling thighs and letting them fall around him as he tiredly rests his head on your abdomen. “Spence,” you whisper, combing your fingers through his hair, causing him to rest his chin on you, meeting your eyes as he wipes your slick from his mouth.

He hums a response, “My love,” he murmurs, eyes closing as he enjoys the feeling of you playing with his hair.

You chew on the inside of your lip nervously, “Do… do you need me?” Your question was tentative, unsure if he wants you to reciprocate.

“Uh,” he says, equally as unsure, “That’s not necessary.”

You raise your eyebrows, “It’s not like I feel inclined to, but I’d like to… to return the favor.”

Spencer shakes his head, “No, I mean I’m taken care of. I already…” his voice trails off, leaving you to fill in the blanks.

“Oh,” you breathe, “Oh.” Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, hiding your smile, “Well I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” Desperately. You were trying desperately not to laugh at the prospect of your boyfriend cumming in his briefs.

He rolls his eyes in response, clearly unbothered. He seems almost proud, and you suppose it’s not often that a man finishes from giving head. “So,” he starts, moving his hand and using his fingertips to draw stars across your bare skin, “Did you enjoy it?”

You huff in response, the answer is obvious, but he just wants the victory of knowing he’s changed your mind. Who are you to refuse him of that? “Immensely,” you answer.

[jupiterpilgrim]

The Pleasure Equation: When the Nerd Solves Everything, Including You

Nayeon x Male Reader

word count: 8.2k

a/n: Yo, my first published smut. I hope you like it. Feel free to tell me what you think.

—

You're lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling and wondering why, in the 21st century, universities still think pairing people for projects is a good idea. Plus, you're terrible at this subject. Advanced Calculus? They might as well call it "How to Ruin My Weekend." The only saving grace is that your partner, Nayeon, the biggest nerd in class, will handle most of it. For you, it seems like a golden ticket: she does the work, and you pretend you helped. It was the perfect plan. What could go wrong?

The doorbell rings. Of course, it’s her. You were expecting it—you could almost time Nayeon's nerdy punctuality. And, as always, she looks like the picture-perfect good girl—cardigan, glasses, skirt, that innocent, serious air of someone more interested in spreadsheets than in people. The kind of girl most guys wouldn't look at twice. But you, well, you had to look. It was obligatory since she was going to carry your weight in this project.

You open the door, and there she is, laptop under her arm, shy smile and everything you imagined. The nerd who's here to save your semester.

What you didn’t know—and God knew you were about to find out—is that Nayeon had planned a different type of study for this project.

She walks in with that confident stride that only people who are either extremely smart or who know the subject is your lifeline have. And honestly, you’re not ready for the energy she brings.

“Hi,” she says, glancing around your house, skipping any small talk.

“Hey, Nayeon. Nice to have you here.” You try to sound more enthusiastic than you really are. “Want anything? Water, juice, tea?” you offer, hoping to buy yourself a few more minutes of procrastination before facing the project.

“No, thanks.” She looks at you over her glasses, almost as if she’s analyzing your soul. “I think we should just get started. The sooner we finish, the better.”

“Yeah, better,” you think. And with that, off you go to your bedroom. Yes, the bedroom, because it’s the only place in the house that seems even remotely presentable. There are piles of books (that you haven’t read, just skimmed for the basics), notebooks with ridiculously short notes you took, some clothes scattered here and there... oh, and your unmade but perfectly comfortable bed, where you sit on the edge. It was a clinically tidy room compared to the living room or the kitchen.

Nayeon doesn't seem to care about anything. She sits at the desk chair and opens her laptop.

The project, of course, is about "Modeling Algebraic Functions for the Optimization of Industrial Processes." Or something equally mind-numbing that only Nayeon seems to understand. You’re more lost than someone trying to solve a Rubik's cube in the dark. And it’s all because of your dad, who, in his non-threatening way, persuaded you to follow the family career path. Damn Engineering (and tradition).

Nayeon, as always, is already deep into the work, fingers flying over the keyboard while her glasses slip to the tip of her nose, balancing dangerously between focused nerd and, well... ¿sexy? nerd?

Not that you’d admit that.

She glances at you, and for a second, you almost feel like she expects you to say something useful. Which, of course, would be a grave miscalculation. Literally.

“So, I thought you could start with the part about differential equations,” she says, making the suggestion with the ease of someone asking you to hold a cup, when what she’s really offering is a grand piano. “And then the graphs…”

You pretend to be genuinely interested. Which means nodding in a way that could be mistaken for understanding if someone looked quickly, but in reality, you're utterly lost.

“Oh, sure, differential equations…” you repeat, as if the words held any special meaning. They don’t.

Nayeon sighs and goes back to typing, clearly aware of the level of uselessness you're operating at. She’s probably already mentally dividing the entire project, calculating how many extra hours she'll need to cover for the fact that you're, essentially, dead weight.

“Maybe you could review the introduction,” she suggests, polite but with the patience of someone talking to a child who still doesn’t know the difference between shapes.

You scratch your head, pretending to read the introduction she’s already written. One, two lines. Everything looks very... professional. You attempt to seem helpful:

“You know, I think you’re... um... doing great with this. Maybe... maybe I should focus more on the creative part of the project, like... the presentation design?” you suggest, smiling, as if making a PowerPoint full of silly animations was an undervalued talent in academia.

She raises an eyebrow.

“Design?” Nayeon asks, sarcasm dripping from her tone. “In an Advanced Calculus project? You want to fill the presentation with glitter and stars, is that it?”

“Hey, glitter makes everything better,” you reply, defensive, but unable to suppress a smile. “Maybe throw in some memes to lighten the mood… People love memes... I guess.”

“I’m not sure if you're joking or if you've completely given up on life,” Nayeon mutters, with a short, dry laugh, returning to the keyboard.

You shift on the bed, trying to find a position that seems less like a desperate student and more like someone slightly focused on the project. The silence is broken only by the sound of her typing and your occasional murmur of fake approval: “Hmm, sure, that makes sense…”

It doesn’t.

Then, out of nowhere, Nayeon looks at you again, but this time with a different kind of curiosity. There’s something in her eyes, something that goes beyond pure calculation—and we’re not talking about the equations.

“You live alone, right?” The question comes casually, almost innocently. Almost.

“Uh, yeah, I do,” you answer, a bit confused by the sudden shift. “Why?”

“Just... curious,” she replies, but the smile she gives is far from innocent. “It must be nice living alone. I bet you can do whatever you want, right? No one around to hear...”

“Yeah, kind of,” you say, scratching the back of your neck. “Like... I can have pizza for breakfast without being judged. And play video games late. It’s not as glamorous as it sounds.”

Nayeon laughs, but in a way that makes you feel a bit uncomfortable, like she knows something you don’t.

“And... what do you mean by ‘do whatever you want’?” you ask, hesitant but unable to resist the curiosity.

“Oh, nothing,” she says, looking away for a second. “Just thinking... it must be interesting. Having that kind of freedom.”

She pauses and looks directly at you again, her fingers sliding slowly across the keyboard, as if the project was now the last thing on her mind.

“Tell me something... what’s your type?” The question lands like a stone thrown into a calm lake, sending ripples of confusion through you.

You almost choke.

“My... type?” you repeat, as if it’s a math problem with too many variables.

“Yeah, like... what do you find attractive in someone?” Nayeon continues, her voice far too casual for the situation. She leans forward slightly, her eyes locked on yours.

“Well, I dunno.” You shift uncomfortably. “I guess... someone fun, you know? Someone who can make me laugh.”

“Hmm. And me?” Nayeon tilts her head, her glasses now low enough to reveal her sharp eyes behind them. “Do I make you laugh?”

You freeze, because the right answer to this feels like a trap.

Sure, Nayeon’s made you laugh plenty of times, especially when she freaks out over losing half a point on a test. But that doesn’t seem like the kind of "laugh" she’s asking about.

“Uh, yeah, of course!” you respond, quickly. “I mean, in a good way. Not that I’m laughing *at* you, but... you know what I mean, right?”

She smiles, and you’re not sure if she’s satisfied with your answer or just amused by your nervousness.

“You know,” Nayeon continues, “I think I prefer guys who... know what they want. Guys with attitude.”

You nod, trying to process what’s happening.

“Oh, sure. Attitude is always good, right?” you reply, having no idea where this conversation is heading.

She looks at you in a way that feels almost predatory, and you realize that, somehow, whatever control you thought you had over this situation (even a little) now belongs entirely to her.

“Do you have it?” she asks. “Attitude?”

At that moment, you realize two things: first, Nayeon isn’t interested in solving differential equations today. And second, you probably should’ve agreed to do the graphs.

You feel the pressure of the question like a multiple-choice exam where all the answers seem wrong.

"Now?" you stammer, as if time itself is about to collapse. "Uh… I don’t know, I think we’re in the middle of a project, right? I wouldn’t want to interrupt…"

"Interrupt?" She lets out a short laugh. "I think work went out the window a long time ago, don’t you?"

With that, she stands up, closing the laptop, and starts walking slowly around the room, as if inspecting the space, or maybe just teasing you on purpose. Every step she takes seems more choreographed than anything you’ve ever seen on stage.

Suddenly, she stops, untying her hair and shaking it loose.

"You know," she continues, turning her gaze back to you, "I thought of a way to make things more interesting."

Your brain, of course, is already in full panic mode, but your mouth, as always, insists on trying to sound casual.

"Really? Interesting how?" you ask, hoping the answer isn’t something like "Russian roulette."

She crosses her arms. You realize that, at some point, you completely lost any chance of controlling your own fate.

"A game," Nayeon says, with a sly smile. "Let’s play a game. What do you say?"

"What kind of game?" you ask, already regretting letting curiosity win over survival instinct.

"Oh, don’t worry, nothing too crazy," she replies, shrugging as if the suggestion were perfectly innocent. "Something fun, to relax, since the project clearly isn’t going anywhere today."

She steps closer to you, with that conspiratorial air of someone about to suggest something really dangerous.

"What do you think?" she whispers, lowering her voice. "You up for playing with me?"

"Err... depends on the game, right?" you reply, trying to sound laid-back.

Her eyes gleam behind her glasses, and the smile on her lips is pure provocation.

"Let’s see… How about something simple?" she suggests, her eyes never leaving yours. "Questions and answers. To test what you've been learning in the course."

"Just that?" you ask, half skeptical, half curious.

She speaks with a lightness that contrasts the intensity of her proposal:

"Of course not. For every question you get right, I’ll take off a piece of clothing."

You blink. Blink again. And then a third time, just to make sure you heard correctly.

"What?" you blurt out, a laugh escaping before you can control it. "You’re kidding, right?"

Nayeon crosses her arms, that crafty smile still on her face. Apparently, she’s not kidding.

"I’m dead serious. And if you manage to make me take off everything, I’ll give you a prize."

"A prize?" You try to keep your composure, but all you can think about is that maybe studying Calculus isn’t so bad after all. "What kind of prize?"

Nayeon doesn’t respond with words. Instead, she lifts her skirt just enough to reveal a glimpse of her panties — white, of course, because even in this, she has to be precise and teasing.

You swallow hard, your eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. Suddenly, the temperature in the room rises by five degrees, and it has nothing to do with global warming.

"Hm... okay, let’s go," you respond, trying to sound casual, but in reality, your mind is a complete mess. Who knew the class nerd had this side to her?

"Great." Nayeon giggles before adjusting her glasses and kicking off her shoes to, let’s say, get more comfortable. "First question: What’s the basic principle of algebraic function modeling applied to industrial process optimization?"

You stare at her. Of course, it wasn’t going to be an easy game. Your brain tries, with herculean effort, to remember what the hell that means.

"Hm… I think… it’s using equations to simplify a complex process?" you guess.

She smiles.

"Well, close enough. You got the general concept," she says.

She starts with the most innocent pieces, of course. The cardigan that you barely noticed she was wearing, because let’s be honest, your focus was more on the project — or on how not to do it... Well, at least that’s what you thought. Now, the focus has definitely changed. Every button that opens feels like a small personal victory. And before you know it, the cardigan is on the floor. She looks at you with a sly smile.

"Shall we continue?"

"Damn right, I’m enjoying this!"

"How do you define an improper integral?"

You blink. Of course, she’d come up with one of those questions you never knew the answer to.

"An… improbable integral?"

She laughs, a clear, almost musical sound that fills the room. If Nayeon were the type of person who enjoyed academically torturing others, she was definitely on the right track.

"I’ll give you a hint," she leans forward, just enough for you to see part of the top underneath her perfectly white blouse. "It has something to do with limits."

Limits. Of course. Yours are being tested in a different way. You vaguely remember the professor mentioning something about this, between naps.

"Oh, right! It’s when the interval goes to infinity, right?" you venture, your heart already beating faster.

"Correct!" She claps her hands, feigning innocent excitement that definitely doesn’t match the way her hands move toward the buttons of her blouse. One button, two, three... and soon, Nayeon’s blouse is off, revealing a black camisole, tight enough to show that she had planned all of this meticulously.

You exhale a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. Now, you’re invested in the game.

"Next question: What are the three most common methods to solve a system of linear equations?"

Linear equations? Of course, you slept through that class. But then… things start to click.

"Elimination, substitution, and… matrices."

"You’re getting the hang of it, huh?" she says, her voice almost a purr.

Without hesitation, she leans back a little and, with a slow, sensual gesture, removes the black camisole, now revealing a delicate white bra, almost the same shade as her skin.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, but somehow, you’re starting to enjoy the game, and oddly enough, math too. Well, this is definitely a more rewarding way to learn something you don’t like.

"Now an easier one," she teases, as if giving you a break. "How do you calculate the area under a curve?"

You swallow hard, not because of the question, but because Nayeon is crossing her arms in a way that’s far from casual, emphasizing even more what’s... well, on display.

"Definite integrals," you answer quickly, perhaps with more enthusiasm than necessary.

She gives a small round of applause, but this time doesn’t make any immediate move to take off anything else.

"Very good! But... are you sure you want to continue?" she asks, tilting her head, as her fingers rest on the zipper of her skirt.

You’re not sure if you want to continue the game or skip straight to the “prize,” but whatever it is, you need this girl naked. But for that you need to concentrate, but how would you do it? It's certainly not easy. Not when she runs her fingers, provocatively slow, to the zipper of her skirt.

“Alright, just one more, then,” she says, with a false lightness that only adds to the tension in the air, “a simpler one, I promise. If you get it right, I’ll take off one more piece. If you get it wrong… the game’s over.”

Your mind is racing, a mix of nerves and pure curiosity. After all, how did you end up here, being quizzed by Nayeon, The Nerd™? And now, The Nerd™ was about to strip.

Weird world.

“Okay… ask the question,” you say, trying to seem calm. Just trying.

Nayeon raises an eyebrow, still toying with the zipper of her skirt, but not pulling it down at all, just… waiting. “What’s Stokes' theorem?” she asks.

You almost laugh. Not really, more like a nervous chuckle that escapes before you realize… crap, you actually don’t remember.

“Erm…” you begin, desperately searching for some vague memory of a class you definitely slept through.

Nayeon doesn’t miss the look of panic on your face.

“Ah, struggling?” she asks, her voice sweetly sadistic. “How about a hint?” She leans in, the skirt still untouched, but in a deliberate move, she adjusts her bra, already more revealing than it should be, giving you a clear view of her generous cleavage.

You clear your throat, dying a little inside but trying to maintain your composure.

“Uh, it has to do with surface integrals, right? Something about flows… and vectors…”

“Exactly! Flows and vectors,” she repeats, satisfied. And then, in an almost innocent gesture, as if she were merely taking off an uncomfortable shoe after a long day, she pulls the zipper of the skirt, which slides down her legs, hitting the floor like it didn’t even matter, revealing her bare legs and white panties. Her thighs are even more perfect than you imagined—toned, lightly defined. Your throat dries up as if you’ve just run a marathon, but the only thing racing is your heart.

Honestly, you’re never really prepared for every time she gets more and more exposed. She places a hand on her hip, looking at you with that expression that makes you wonder how you never realized this before—that yes, Nayeon, the “nerd” of the class, was a girl far more complex than any Stokes theorem.

“So, what now? Want to continue or… are you satisfied?” She pouts adorably, challenging you, and you know, at that moment, that she wants you to keep going. After all, she’s having way too much fun.

You take a deep breath, determined, even though your mind is light-years away from any coherent thought.

“Sure. Next question. I’m going to win my prize.”

“What a determined guy,” Nayeon chuckles softly, with that teasing air, as if you were on a quiz show and not in some sort of erotically torturous strip game for the brave. “Alright then… explain the principle of superposition.”

She knew you had no idea. You knew that she knew. But what did it matter? What mattered was that your eyes were glued to every movement she made. She tilted her head, playing with the strap of her bra.

You think for a moment. Superposition… electric fields… sure, you got this.

“It’s when, hmm…” your voice cracks, but you force yourself to sound confident. “It’s when the sum of the effects of multiple causes is equal to the sum of the individual causes. Each field acts like the others aren’t even there.”

She leans in, subtly, fiddling with the strap of her bra, her eyes never leaving yours.

“Exactly,” she says, letting the strap fall with a slow motion from one shoulder. And then, from the other. “Congratulations.”

The bra falls to the floor.

You try, honestly try, to keep your focus on what’s happening, but there’s a problem. Actually, two, and both of them are right in front of you, fully exposed. No matter how much your mind insists that you need to concentrate on the game… you simply can’t.

“J-just one more question, right?” You stammer, desperately trying to focus on your shoes, the wall, anything but… well, Nayeon, and the fact that she was now practically naked.

She leans forward slightly, arms “casually” crossed, and you’re convinced she did this just to make sure your brain imploded. One of her breasts lightly brushes against her arm, and your mind screams something between HELP and THANK YOU.

"Exactly,” she says, and there’s a hint of malice in her voice, that tone that indicates she knows by now you’re one step away from a complete meltdown. “One last question. If you get it right… you win your prize. If you get it wrong… you’ll do the entire project alone.”

Your head throbs, struggling to focus on anything besides her smooth skin and the hair falling loosely over her shoulders.

“Alone?” you repeat, dumbfounded. A simple word, but you can barely get it out.

She bites her lip, enjoying herself. And then, in the most seductive voice possible, she drops the bomb:

“Of course… if you mess up now in the final minutes, you’ll have to do it all on your own. But if you get it right, you’ll see what’s under this,” she pulls at the side of her white panties slightly, just enough to let your imagination spin. “And who knows what else…” Her voice is a caress wrapped in pure temptation.

Yeah, it’s worth the risk.

Focus, you tell yourself, as if that’s remotely possible. Here you are, in a state of complete mental confusion, and Nayeon is there, almost naked, suggesting there’s just one question left before… well, paradise. And hell, too, because clearly, you wouldn’t survive doing this fucked-up project alone.

“Alright, let’s go,” you force the words out. “What’s the last question?”

Nayeon smiles in a way that says, I got you. And of course, she did. She leans in again, this time closer, her panties still firmly in place, but for how long?

“Ready for this?” she murmurs, with the tone of a final temptation. “What law of electromagnetism describes the relationship between the circulation of a magnetic field along a closed path and the electric current passing through the surface enclosed by that path?”

You freeze. Your mind is almost there, trying to grab the answer from some corner not focused on the fact that Nayeon is practically naked in front of you.

“Uh…” you begin, Nayeon sways her hips as she waits. “It’s… it’s…” you struggle. Nothing. Your mind is completely blank, a screen of static.

Nayeon sighs, as if she’s genuinely disappointed. Of course she’s not. She’s having way too much fun for that.

“Need a hint?” she offers, with a smile as sweet as it is devastating.

You nod desperately. Anything, for God’s sake, anything to help!

She whispers softly, “This law introduced the concept of ‘displacement current.’”

You blink, and then, as if by some miracle, the answer comes to you. But before you can speak it aloud, Nayeon leans in again and your traitorous eyes glance at her exposed breasts.

You almost forget the answer entirely, but a slip or whatever that was makes you say, “Ampère-Maxwell’s Law,” your voice trembling, unsure if physics is about to save you or be the last nail in the coffin of your sanity.

Nayeon looks you up and down.

She approved.

Slowly, as if savoring the moment, in a exaggeratedly calculated movement, she pulls her panties down, revealing everything.

Her curves are so smooth they seem hand-carved by some Renaissance artist with a thing for naughty nerd girls. Her entire body is a work of art, every inch of her pure perfection, and as she moves closer, you feel like you’re about to lose control for good.

Nayeon sits beside you, her legs slightly apart so you can see her tight little pussy. She looks you up and down, the same look that used to seem like someone fully focused on her studies, now carrying much more obvious intentions.

"Do you like what you see?" she asks, her voice low and seductive.

You swallow hard, trying not to seem as out of control as you really are.

"Yeah... Very much..." you respond, your voice rougher than usual, and before you know it, Nayeon is leaning in closer, her body heat practically radiating onto you.

"What are you waiting for, then?" she whispers, her lips just inches from yours. The suggestion lingers in the air, and your body seems to move on its own. Your hand rises, hesitant, until it reaches her breasts, your fingers feeling the smoothness of her skin and the firmness that makes you forget about any equation or college project. You squeeze lightly, and Nayeon lets out a soft sigh that drives you even crazier.

She leans in more, her lips brushing yours in a gentle kiss. When she pulls away, her eyes are gleaming.

"I’ve always liked you, you know?" she confesses, lightly biting her lower lip as her hand slides down your chest. "I've always thought you were really hot… and smart, too. You just needed a little help focusing on what matters. You’ve got potential, you just need to get rid of the distractions."

You chuckle nervously, still trying to process what’s happening.

"I never imagined you were like this… You always seemed so… well-behaved." The words come out with difficulty, your mind still reeling between what you thought you knew about Nayeon and what you're discovering now.

She laughs softly, amused, her eyes half-closed as she replies.

"You can’t judge a book by its cover," she says, her voice almost a whispered secret, as if she’s letting you in on something few people are privileged to know.

She then pulls your hand to her waist, and you squeeze, feeling the softness of her skin, the warmth of her body under your fingers. Nayeon’s body fits against yours in a way that feels almost orchestrated. Her hands, agile and confident, slide down to your thigh, in a way that makes your breathing quicken even more.

And then you feel her touch on your groin. It’s a slow tease, and she looks into your eyes with a smile that’s almost victorious.

"Do you want me to suck you off?" she asks, her voice thick with desire.

Your heart is racing so fast you can barely think of a coherent response, but you nod, without hesitation.

"I do." The word escapes your lips, more of a groan than a response.

Nayeon smiles, that wicked smile you would never have associated with the girl who sat in the front row of the class.

"I’ve been dying to," she murmurs, the heat between you two rising with each second, promising much more than just an intellectual debate.

Nayeon kneels between your legs and prepares to take off her glasses. At that moment, it seems like the last facade of the “well-behaved nerd” is about to fall along with them. But you, in a sudden impulse of something even Freud would hesitate to analyze, reach out and say, almost automatically, “No, leave the glasses on. I like you like that.”

She stops, her fingers still hovering over the frames, and smiles in a way only someone about to change your fate could.

"Really?" She tilts her head, clearly liking the idea. Not just liking it—loving it. The kind of smile she gives you is one of someone who’s just gained a new strategic advantage in the game.

"Can you… do it… with the glasses on?" you ask, and honestly, now that the words are in the air, the question seems less weird than it should.

"Of course. If that’s what you want," Nayeon replies, the smile gaining an edge of provocation that makes you wonder if she hadn’t planned this all along.

She reaches for your pants and pulls them down along with your underwear. Nayeon touches your cock, and the sensation makes you realize how small her hands are. With incredibly soft fingers, she grips it firmly, as if evaluating something rare, a treasure she’s just found. Her eyes, still behind the lenses, look up at you.

"Wow..." she murmurs, impressed. "It’s so… big and thick.”

If you had any chance of keeping your composure, it vanished with that sentence.

"Your hand… is so soft," you manage to say, your brain desperately trying to keep up with what’s happening.

Nayeon smiles.

"Oh, if you liked that, just wait until I put it in my mouth."

And that’s exactly what she does. Nayeon spits into her palm, the quick, indecent sound echoing in the room, and starts stroking you, her touch now sliding with the ease of something well-lubricated, almost clinical—if it weren’t absolutely pornographic.

And then, with little warning, she swallows.

Just like that. As if she’d been trained at some secret school of forbidden pleasure, her mouth wraps around your cock, warm, wet, and with a desire bordering on voracious. She looks up at you from below, her glasses still firmly in place.

You writhe in pleasure. Nothing else matters. Not the project, not life’s worries. Just Nayeon, and the way she sucks, kisses, and takes you deep, with a dedication that would make anyone believe she’s indeed “studying” something.

"I’m going to use my breasts now," she says, stopping briefly, her voice slightly hoarse, as she adjusts her breasts, squeezing them around your cock.

Ah, Nayeon’s breasts. Warm, soft, and incredibly seductive, they create the perfect “pillow” as she starts giving you a titjob. And the glasses? Still there, perfectly framing her face, turning this whole thing into an improbable, yet wonderful fantasy.

The sensation of her breasts pressing against your cock is a next-level delight. Nayeon, with a mischievous look and a voice barely above a whisper, asks, "Are you enjoying this, babe?"

You can only groan in response, the sensation so intense that words refuse to form properly. Her breasts move up and down, creating a warm, sweaty pressure that’s almost indescribable. She adjusts the rhythm.

"This is..." you manage to say, your voice hoarse and breaking. "Fuck, this is amazing."

The pleasure builds, a rising heat that seems to have a life of its own as Nayeon keeps working her magic. Her breasts, pressing and rubbing with delicious intensity, create waves of pleasure that only get stronger.

As the rhythm quickens, Nayeon gives a satisfied smile. Her breasts continue to move up and down, the sensation around your cock hot and wet, and you feel the pressure and heat mounting.

You start to squirm, the sensations growing more and more intense. The pleasure is so overwhelming it feels like your body is on the verge of exploding. Nayeon adjusts the pressure and pace, making every touch and movement you feel even more intense.

“Am I making you feel good?” Nayeon asks.

You can only nod, the feeling of being on the brink of climax almost overwhelming. Your moans become more frequent, and you can feel yourself nearing the point of no return... something Nayeon hadn’t anticipated.

Then, just as the pleasure reaches an almost unbearable level, you cum. The first spurt surprises her, landing on her face. She stays there, wide-eyed and gasping, her glasses now smeared with your semen. She accepts what happened and keeps stroking you, and the second, weaker spurt drips down onto her breasts, slowly trickling. She finishes the job by rubbing your cock on her chest, spreading your cum all over her breasts until they’re thoroughly messy. When she stops, you exhale, feeling like you’re in paradise.

“Fuck… that was so damn good, Nayeon…”

She stays still for a moment, her expression a mix of surprise and indignation. The intensity of your orgasm seems to have caught her so off guard that even she needs a moment to process it.

“Why did you cum?!” Nayeon asks, removing her glasses, her voice filled with a mix of irritation and unfulfilled desire. “You haven’t even fucked me yet!”

Breathless and slightly embarrassed, you try to defuse the situation.

“Well, take it as a compliment,” you say, a sheepish smile forming on your face. “You’re just too hot for me to handle.”

Luckily for you, this makes Nayeon smile, the irritation melting into a flush. She relaxes, though still with a teasing edge.

“Tsk. But next time, don’t cum on my glasses,” she says, her voice softer now. “But if it felt good for you, I guess I can forgive it. Just know that I’ll make sure you get hard for me again,” she says with an authority that makes her even more irresistible.

Nayeon moves closer, slowly, like a predator about to capture its prey, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of challenge and mischief. You feel the air shift as she approaches, as though the entire room is holding its breath for what’s about to happen.

“Take off your clothes,” she commands, her voice low but filled with an authority that makes you obey without hesitation.

In an instant, you’re naked, sitting on the bed, vulnerable, your heart pounding faster. Nayeon watches you, a smile spreading across her lips, like she’s admiring a masterpiece she’s about to perfect. She sits beside you with a calculated calm, and before you know it, her lips are on yours—soft at first, then more intense, as if she’s learning every inch of your mouth.

Between kisses, her hand starts exploring your body, moving slowly, until it reaches exactly where you want it most. Her fingers wrap around your cock, and the touch is... electrifying. It’s not just any touch; it’s the kind that knows exactly what it’s doing. She strokes you lightly, almost teasingly, while her lips pull away just enough for her to whisper in your ear:

“Remember that time in class when the professor asked me to help you with an assignment?” She pauses, her lips brushing lightly against your ear. “All I could think about was how much I wanted you to fuck me until I came.”

The effect of her words is immediate. Your entire body reacts before your mind can even catch up. Your cock pulses hard in her hand, almost as if it’s following an unspoken command. She feels it and giggles softly, a sound just as provocative as every move of her fingers.

“Look at you…” she says, her voice full of amusement and a hint of mockery. “You’re getting hard for me again, aren’t you? What a naughty boy.”

Your heart races, and you can hardly respond. All you can do is gaze at her while your desire skyrockets. Her hand moves slowly and deliberately, teasing every part of you, while her eyes stay locked on yours, as if savoring every second.

“How badly do you want to fuck me?” Nayeon asks, her voice soft but filled with a promise you know she’ll fulfill.

“So much,” you reply, almost breathless, anticipation taking over every inch of your being.

She smirks—that dangerous smile that says, "Exactly what I wanted to hear." Her lips return to yours, but this time there’s more urgency, a hunger building with every passing moment. Her hand moves with more intention now, and your excitement grows at an unimaginable rate.

“I knew you were like this…” she murmurs between kisses, her lips nearly glued to yours. “Such a horny little thing, always wanting more.”

She tightens her grip slightly, making you squirm, the pleasure coursing through you with every squeeze, every word whispered like a secret shared only with you.

“You like this, don’t you?” she asks, already knowing the answer. Her eyes glint as her hand continues its strategic work. “You like me teasing you.”

“Yes,” you manage to say, your voice shaky with desire.

Nayeon pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, her smile blending amusement with seduction.

“Good, because I love teasing you…” she says, then leans down, as if she’s about to do something even more daring. Her lips brush against your neck, lightly biting as her hand slides lower, teasing and gripping, leaving you on the edge of collapse.

“Think you can handle another round?” she asks, her voice now full of challenge.

“There’s only one way to find out,” you respond, trying to keep your composure but knowing you’re completely at her mercy.

“Let’s see then,” she whispers against your skin, and before you know it, she’s moving down, her lips traveling across your body, and you lean back onto the bed. She leaves a trail of kisses and bites along your chest and stomach, making her way lower.

She looks up at you, her eyes dark with desire, and with one final mischievous smile, she leans back up just enough to brush her lips against yours without fully kissing.

“Are you ready to fuck me now?” she asks.

And without a doubt, you are.

Nayeon lies back on the bed, slowly pulling you on top of her until you feel the warmth of her body against yours. The way she molds perfectly beneath you feels like she was made for this. Your hands trace the contours of her breasts, fingers pressing gently against her skin as you slide into her slowly, savoring every second. Your lips meet hers in a slow, intense kiss, tongues moving in sync with the rhythm of your hips—thrusting in and out, deepening with each stroke.

She moans against your mouth, the sound vibrating through your whole body, making you speed up a little while still keeping control. Nayeon breaks the kiss, throwing her head back, eyes closed, and you take the chance to kiss her neck, tasting the salty sheen of sweat. "You like this, don't you?" you whisper in her ear, your voice low and husky as you keep thrusting, feeling how tightly she clenches around you.

"Fuck… yes," she breathes out, her nails now digging into your back, scratching you with a mix of pain and pleasure. "Fuck me harder."

You obey without thinking, picking up the pace, each thrust deeper and more deliberate. Her moans grow louder, almost turning into screams, and it only drives you to go harder. You kiss her again, this time with more urgency, sucking her lower lip between yours as your hips move in a nearly frantic rhythm. The sound of your bodies colliding fills the room, mixed with her broken moans and your own heavy breathing.

"You're so fucking hot," you say between kisses, softly biting along her jawline as you lose yourself in the sensation. "So tight… fuck, Nayeon."

She opens her eyes, looking at you with a mix of challenge and pleasure, her face flushed and sweaty. "Come on, fuck me harder… don’t stop," she pleads, pulling you down for another kiss, this one desperate, as if she needs every touch of yours to survive. You oblige, thrusting harder, while her moans turn into muffled cries as your mouths stay connected.

But then, you decide to switch positions. Science, after all, is about experimentation. You position her at the edge of the bed, Nayeon's legs lifted and spread wide, her pussy on full display—pink and pulsing, inviting. The sight makes you lose control for a moment as you grab her thighs, pulling her closer to you. With one hand, you line up your cock, the tip already slick with excitement, before sliding it inside, feeling the warmth wrap around you completely. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, mingling with both your moans.

Nayeon looks up at you, a wild gleam in her eyes, completely different from the girl everyone thinks they know. "You're such a filthy pervert," she growls through gritted teeth, her voice low and dripping with lust. "Fucking your study partner like this, so dirty… Do you see what you've done to me? The little nerd everyone thinks is so innocent, and look where I am now, all spread out for you…"

The sound of her voice, the moans slipping out as you fuck her harder and deeper, only makes you lose more control. "Innocent?" you mutter, your breathing ragged. "You pretend to be the good little student, but with me, you love being a slut, don’t you?"

She lets out a wicked laugh, cut off by a louder moan as you thrust even deeper. "I fucking love it. I love how you make me forget everything… I love being your little slut. I’m all yours, and you can do whatever you want to me."

Your movements grow faster, each thrust pulling louder moans from her. You grip her thighs tight, pulling her into you with each thrust, your eyes fixed on the sight of your cock sliding in and out, completely soaked. "Look at you," you growl, your voice dripping with taunt. "So depraved… No one would guess that the nerdy girl from class is here, begging to be fucked like a whore."

Nayeon lets out a long, drawn-out moan, almost a scream, her body arching beneath you, fingers gripping the sheets tightly. "Yes! Fuck me harder, fuck! I want you to know this is what I love… I love being the little nerd only you can fuck like this. Faster, harder!"

You don't hesitate, your hips slamming against hers in a frenzied pace, the heat and pressure of every thrust consuming you both. Her legs tremble, and you keep pounding with force and precision. "Admit it, Nayeon," you say through gritted teeth, picking up the pace. "You love being my little slut…"

She opens her eyes, staring at you with an almost possessive intensity. "Fuck, yes! I’m your slut. Fuck me more, fuck my pussy like I’m only yours…" You lower yourself onto her, kissing her hard, pouring every bit of your heat into her through the kiss as you keep thrusting, and between desperate, erratic kisses, she gasps, "Take me from behind now. I want you deep inside me, you filthy pervert!”

You pull away from her, and Nayeon promptly positions herself on your messy bed, arching her back, ready. Your approach is almost reverent. You position yourself behind her as you lower your head slowly, your eyes tracing the sight she offers—her wet pussy, swollen with excitement, and just above, her tight little ass, teasing you. She’s so exposed, so vulnerable, yet there’s a confidence in her, like she’s fully aware of what’s coming. And that’s exactly what turns her on.

Before making a move, you let your warm breath brush against her skin, sending shivers through her body. Nayeon lets out a shaky sigh, and her back arches even more. “Don’t make me wait…” she murmurs, a mix of urgency and need in her voice.

With a sly grin, you lower your mouth, and your tongue finally touches the slick entrance of her pussy. The taste is addictive, just as you suspected. You start with soft, long licks, gliding along the length of her lips, savoring every drop of her juices. Nayeon responds immediately, letting out quiet moans, her breathing already quickening.

“You… know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” she asks, her voice broken by little gasps.

You chuckle lightly between licks but don’t answer. Your hands firmly grip Nayeon’s ass, keeping her in place as your tongue slides deeper, exploring her sensitive folds. Each time you graze the entrance of her pussy, it clenches, almost begging to be filled, but you refuse to give her everything at once. Instead, you decide to tease her even more.

Sliding your tongue upward, you slowly trace circles around her tight little asshole, making it wet with your saliva. The reaction is instant—Nayeon’s body trembles, and her moans intensify. “Oh my God… keep going… please…” she whispers, her voice a desperate plea.

You alternate between quick, gentle licks, sometimes focusing on her swollen, slick pussy, other times on her sensitive ass, driving her to the brink of losing control. Your tongue dances between the two spots, teasing and pleasing her at the same time. With every new touch, Nayeon’s moans grow louder, more urgent.

“You… you like this, don’t you, you pervert?” she asks with a muffled voice, her hands gripping the bed sheets tightly.

“I love how you taste,” you murmur against her skin.

She lets out a breathy laugh, somewhere between pleasure and disbelief. “Of course you do, I’m… delicious.” And you can’t help but agree. Your tongue continues to explore, licking deep into her pussy and then sliding up to her ass, enjoying the way her body reacts to every touch. Your fingers dig into her ass cheeks harder, leaving red marks on her pale skin.

Nayeon’s moans mix with uncontrollable whispers, each word escaping between ragged breaths. “Please… you’re killing me,” she begs, her voice thick with pleasure, her eyes half-closed in pure lust. “Fuck me… just fuck me already!”

Her plea is desperate, loaded with an almost imperious urgency, and you, with a mischievous smile, position yourself behind her, watching as she pushes her ass higher, her slick pussy begging for more. “You sure you can take it?” you tease, your hands already gripping her hips, but before she can even respond, you pull her back, aligning yourself with precision, the head of your cock brushing against her lips.

“Just do it, fuck,” Nayeon shouts, her tone commanding but dripping with so much desire that you can’t resist. In one swift motion, you thrust into her, and the wet heat of her pussy envelops you completely. Pleasure shoots through you like an electric current, and she arches her back, pushing against you, as if begging you to go deeper, faster.

You start slowly, savoring each thrust, each inch sliding in and out of her, but soon the pace picks up, driven by the uncontrollable moans pouring out of Nayeon. “Faster… harder,” she moans, her voice faltering with each deeper thrust, and you don’t hesitate. Your hands sink into the soft flesh of her hips, holding her steady as you speed up, the thrusts becoming more intense, more brutal.

“Look at you, so prim and proper in class, but here…” you say between thrusts, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. “Here you’re just my little slut. The nerd who loves being fucked like a whore.”

Nayeon moans loudly, her voice breaking into wicked laughter. “Is that what you want, huh? To know the nerd loves being fucked like this, like a depraved little slut… Make me scream, fuck!”

With each slap to her ass, she moans louder, her pale skin turning red with every hit. “Hit me harder,” she begs, her eyes gleaming with pleasure, her voice a mix of desperation and ecstasy. And you oblige, slapping her harder, leaving red marks as you bury yourself deeper inside her.

“You’re an unbelievable slut,” you growl, picking up the pace, each thrust drawing louder and more desperate moans from her. “You pretend to be so good, but look at you now… begging for more.”

“I’m your slut,” she screams, pushing her ass back against you even harder. “Do whatever you want with me… I love being fucked like this, fuck! Make me yours, make me cum.”

You keep going, your thrusts becoming frenzied, your hips moving with an uncontrollable speed and intensity. “Fuck, look at you,” you taunt, feeling your own pleasure building. “You love being treated like this, like a desperate little whore. Scream for me, Nayeon.”

“Yes, yes!” she screams, her voice thick with pleasure, almost hoarse. “Fuck me until I can’t take it anymore, babe!”

Her body trembling as her climax approaches. Suddenly, she arches her back, pushing her ass harder against you, and her voice cracks as she screams, “I’m... going... to cum!”

Her pussy clenches tightly around your cock, pulsing and shaking as she’s overtaken by the orgasm, her whole body shuddering in ecstasy while your relentless thrusts continue. But you don't stop. Her pleasure only drives you further, each thrust pulling everything out of her, Nayeon’s body writhing, each scream feeding your own growing desire.

“Yeah… Fuck me, make me yours,” she keeps begging, even in the middle of her own climax, completely surrendered to the sensation.

You can feel your own orgasm building, heat rising fast, pressure mounting. “I’m going to cum,” you warn, your voice rough and broken, unable to stop as the final thrusts send you both over the edge.

The feeling of her pulsating pussy around your cock pushes you to the brink, and with one last frustrated groan, you pull out. Nayeon gasps for a moment, recovering from her orgasm as she kneels down on the floor, almost like she already knows what to do – and, honestly, she does. Her eyes lock on you, her face slightly flushed, and her mouth already open, waiting eagerly like the diligent student she is.

You grip your cock with one hand, still throbbing, and bring it to her lips. With her mouth wide, Nayeon wraps her lips around you once more, sucking softly with a gentleness that almost belies the fevered desire etched across her face. You pull out of her mouth, stroking yourself quickly, feeling the pressure mounting further.

Nayeon waits, obedient, with her tongue stretched out, her eyes hungry and fixed on you, knowing exactly the effect that has on you. When the moment hits, the first spurt of cum lands on her warm tongue, and Nayeon doesn’t even blink. She takes it all in with pleasure, as you empty yourself into her mouth, your body shuddering, nearly out of control.

She keeps her mouth open the entire time, her tongue coated in your cum, and when you finally finish, she closes her lips, licking them as the taste spreads. With perfect manners, she shows you her full mouth, eyes full of playful mischief, and then, without breaking eye contact, she swallows it all in one gulp, her throat moving slowly.

“See?” she says with a satisfied smile, as if she’d just passed a test with flying colors. “I swallowed it all without spilling a drop.”

But, of course, Nayeon, ever the overachiever, wasn’t finished. Before you can catch your breath, she leans in again, taking your sensitive cock into her mouth, sucking with an intensity that makes you moan involuntarily. The jolt of pleasure is so sharp that you try to pull away, your body trembling, but she holds you firmly, her mouth working at a pace that borders on cruel.

“Fuck!... I can’t take any more!” you try to protest, your voice breaking, but Nayeon just hums in response, pulling you out only long enough to say, “Not yet,” before closing her lips around you again, sucking you until, finally, she decides she’s satisfied.

When she releases you, you’re left gasping, almost paralyzed from the intensity of it all. Nayeon smiles sweetly, victorious, wiping the corner of her mouth with her fingers before saying with calm satisfaction, “Mmm, Now that was delicious.”

—

As you desperately gulp water from your bottle, the silence that follows your impromptu "study session" lingers heavily in the air, a strange return to reality. Nayeon had stood up, her hair still slightly messy and a small smile playing on her lips, before heading to the bathroom. She walked with the confidence of someone who had just solved a particularly tricky math problem.

And now you're here, staring at the bathroom door, listening to the sound of water as she washes her face and cleans her glasses, removing any trace of... well, *you*. Then, because life loves to remind you that nothing is ever simple, your mind starts to wander. What, exactly, just happened? Oh, right. You were working on a project. A project that, incidentally, hasn’t moved an inch forward.

Nayeon steps out of the bathroom, picking up the discarded clothes from the floor, dressing herself piece by piece, taking her time, like you were a couple with decades of shared intimacy. She finishes by adjusting her glasses, almost like she’s putting a crown back on after a victorious battle. She sits back down in her chair, opens the laptop as if nothing had happened, and lets out a satisfied but determined sigh.

“Alright,” she says, as if she hadn’t just left you weak-kneed. “Let’s get back to the project.”

You stare at her, incredulous. As if it were possible to get back to the project after that.

And then you realize you’re still naked. You quickly slip on your boxers and pants.

“To be honest, I don’t think I can focus on my part right now,” you admit, your voice still a bit hoarse.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.” She smiles that smile—a mix of mischief and... surprisingly efficient academic prowess. “As long as you keep fucking me, of course. I have to be rewarded somehow.”

You’re speechless for a moment, because, well... you don’t exactly have a counterargument. In fact, it seems like the best deal you’ve ever made in your life.

“Deal,” you say, trying to sound cool, as if you weren’t absolutely thrilled by the arrangement.

Inside, though, you’re jumping for joy.

She adjusts her glasses, watching you for a moment, and you notice that glint in her eyes—a mix of ego, intelligence, and... something else that makes your heart race. Or maybe it’s just the recent sex.

Hard to say.

“But,” she cuts through your thoughts with a serious tone, “no one can know about this. We have to meet in secret. No telling anyone.”

“I swear I won’t tell.”

You wonder how you ended up in this situation, but the answer seems obvious. Who in their right mind would turn down a request like that?

She smiles, satisfied, and turns her attention back to the laptop, as if everything were perfectly resolved.

“Besides,” Nayeon adds, without looking up, “if you need help with any other subject, you can count on me. After all, I think we work well together, don’t we?”

You just nod, but there’s something about her—something between the proud nerd and the bold confidence—that drives you wild. Wild with desire, of course, but also something deeper. And as you watch her, so focused, adjusting her glasses like she’s planning the next phase of a secret mission, you realize that you’re falling for the class nerd.

Yes, she’s hot. Yes, she has a way of disarming you at every turn.

But it’s more than that. It’s as if every time she looks at you with that “know-it-all” air or talks about a complicated academic concept, your mind equates it with something incredibly sexy. And suddenly, your love life has turned into an equation you can’t—and don’t want to—solve.

And, of course, the fact that she’s amazing in bed doesn’t hurt, either.

“Should we meet tomorrow?” you ask casually.

Nayeon doesn’t even look up, just gives a small “mm-hmm” of confirmation, her fingers still typing away.

“Your place again. Same time. Clean up your room... And answer the door in your boxers.”

She glances at you slightly, smiling, and you know exactly what that smile means. And, well, you’re not in any position to complain. In fact, if studying had always been like this, maybe you'd have been the best student in class.

—

As you walk Nayeon to the door, you can’t help but think that maybe you’ve uncovered the true secret to academic success. And who would have thought it was a sexy nerd with glasses who secretly turned out to be a naughty girl who liked sneaking off for sex?

As she leaves, you can’t help but smile when your eyes meet one last time. Not just because of the deal you’ve just made, but because, for the first time in a long while, you’re genuinely excited to "study" with someone. Suddenly, the academic world seems a lot more interesting.

You close the door, but something lingers in the air. Maybe it’s the smell of your sweat—you still haven’t showered, after all. Maybe it’s the trace of Nayeon’s perfume. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the beginning of one of the most unexpectedly erotic adventures of your life.

-----------

A/n: Please forgive any typos or grammatical errors, English is not my first language. Thanks for reading.

[fangdokja]

The cage he’s built for you is so beautiful, you almost forget it’s there.

❤︎ Synopsis. In a love that teeters between devotion and obsession, escape is futile—his jealousy isn’t just possessive, it’s a consuming force that leaves no room for freedom. With each calculated act, he dismantles your world, ensuring you’ll always belong to him, body and soul.

♡ Book. Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Alhaitham x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Diluc x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Zhongli x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Dainsleif x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. Heart's Chains - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 2,801

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, non con, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, hints at rough play and sex, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non con kissing and touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats

♡ Alhaitham – The Scholar’s Cage.

“Your freedom is the illusion I designed for you. Do you see it now?”

Alhaitham’s jealousy is a quiet, suffocating force, crafted with precision and intellect. It doesn’t roar or rage, nor does it seek to overpower with brute strength. Instead, it threads through the very seams of your life, a methodical and unrelenting presence that tightens its grip with every passing day. His love is not chaotic—it is controlled, sharpened into something surgical, leaving no room for resistance.

You don’t notice it at first, the way he dismantles your autonomy. It begins with simple suggestions, his calm voice dripping with reason. “Why waste time with them? They don’t understand you.” A polite dismissal of your acquaintances, a small reorganization of your daily routine—all done under the guise of care, of making your life more efficient. Slowly, the world outside his orbit fades into obscurity, replaced by the inescapable reality of him.

Each step is calculated, deliberate, like the turning of pages in his meticulously annotated tomes. Alhaitham doesn’t need to raise his voice or resort to crude displays of anger. His jealousy operates in silken whispers, in arguments so flawlessly logical that to disagree with him feels like an admission of ignorance.

“You waste your time on frivolities,” he states, his tone flat but unyielding. His eyes pierce through you, sharp and unreadable. “Do you truly believe anyone else sees you for who you are? I’ve devoted myself to understanding you, shaping a life where your brilliance can thrive. What have they done?”

And when someone dares to overstep, lingering too long in your presence or speaking to you in tones he deems too familiar, Alhaitham does not act impulsively. No, his retaliation is an art form. The offending individual doesn’t disappear suddenly—that would be too crude, too obvious. Instead, they find their world unraveling.

A missed promotion, an inexplicable reassignment to a far-off land, their life tangled in bureaucratic webs they can’t escape. By the time they realize the Scholar’s hand in their downfall, it’s already too late. You notice their absence, perhaps even question it, but Alhaitham’s explanation is maddeningly irrefutable.

“They were a distraction,” he says simply, his voice devoid of emotion. “You don’t need people like that cluttering your life. Trust me, it’s better this way.”

He’s maddeningly composed, his jealousy cold and unyielding, a stone wall against which your protests shatter like glass. And yet, beneath his calm exterior lies a hunger so all-consuming it feels like an abyss, ready to swallow you whole.

In intimacy, that hunger reveals itself in the way his hands move over you—not hurried, but deliberate, like he’s studying you, mapping every inch of your body with the same precision he applies to his research. His touch is a paradox, both clinical and possessive, as if he’s documenting every reaction, every tremor, every gasp, to remind you that no one else could ever know you this intimately.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. His voice is steady, each word a carefully crafted statement of fact. “Not just your body, but your mind, your soul. Every thought you have—I’ve already claimed it.”

There’s no room for resistance in his embrace. When he takes you, it’s a symphony of control, every movement deliberate, every whisper a reminder of how deeply he owns you. He doesn’t seek to hurt; pain is a crude tool, unworthy of his intellect. Instead, his love is an overwhelming force, designed to erode your defenses until you can no longer imagine a world without him.

And when he looks at you, there’s something terrifying in his gaze—a blend of devotion and dominance that leaves you breathless. You see yourself reflected in his eyes, not as a partner, but as something precious, something he’s spent his life perfecting. And as much as you might wish to escape, a part of you knows the truth.

“You’ll thank me one day,” he says, his voice as steady as ever. “When you finally understand that no one else will ever love you like I do. Your freedom, your independence—they were illusions, distractions. I am your reality now. Do you see it?”

────────────

♡ Diluc – Ember’s Obsession.

“There’s a certain poetry in the way flesh burns. Shall I show you what it means to belong to me?”

Jealousy in Diluc is not a sudden blaze—it’s a simmering ember buried deep within his chest, smoldering until provoked. And when that ember finally ignites, it consumes everything in its path. His rage is a tempest of fire, and his vengeance is exacting, merciless, yet meticulously controlled. To call it passion would be a mistake; this is something darker, primal, and utterly destructive.

The tranquility of the winery is the first thing to vanish when his jealousy peaks. The birds no longer sing, the soft rustling of leaves becomes an oppressive silence, and the air carries the faint, acrid tang of smoke. The vineyards, once a symbol of beauty and life, become the stage for his wrath. The trespasser who dared covet what was his is gone before you even realize it, their existence wiped away as if they never belonged to the world.

When you ask, his eyes burn with an intensity that freezes you in place. There’s no need to raise his voice—his silence is deafening, his actions more eloquent than words. The blood on his gloves isn’t cleaned, the charred remains of their belongings left just close enough for you to see. He wants you to understand the cost of disobedience, of entertaining the thought of anyone but him.

“Why are you trembling?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, like embers crackling in a dying fire. He steps closer, his gloved hand brushing your cheek, a tender gesture at odds with the ferocity in his gaze. “Surely, you knew how this would end. They weren’t blind. They saw you. And I don’t forgive those who covet what’s mine.”

When Diluc kisses you, it’s bruising, his lips pressing against yours with a feral desperation. His hands are hot against your skin, leaving an almost burning sensation in their wake, a reminder of the fire he wields and how easily it could destroy you. He holds you tightly, his grip a cage, as if you might vanish if he let go.

The manor becomes your prison, the towering walls that once promised safety now looming like an inescapable fortress. He replaces the staff with people who would die before they crossed him, their loyalty bought or burned into submission. Your freedom dwindles day by day—no visitors, no letters, no life beyond the world he’s carved for you.

Even in his tenderness, there’s a darkness that pervades. When he pulls you into his arms at night, the weight of his obsession is suffocating. His fingers trace the curve of your throat, his touch almost reverent. His words, however, betray his madness. “If you ever think of running, don’t. Fire purifies everything, even memories. You won’t last without me. And I won’t let you.”

He doesn’t need chains to bind you; his fire does that for him. You feel the heat of his wrath even in his absence, a smothering presence that lingers in every room. The scent of charred wood clings to your senses, a constant reminder of what lies in wait should you ever defy him.

Yet, in the darkness of his obsession, there’s a twisted beauty—a fervent devotion so consuming it becomes poetic in its destruction. Diluc’s love burns, and like moth to flame, you can’t help but stay, even as it threatens to destroy you.

────────────

♡ Zhongli – The Stone Emperor’s Dominion.

“Erosion affects everything… but my love for you will endure until the last star in the cosmos burns out. Whether you want it or not.”

Zhongli’s jealousy is an ancient, unyielding force, as patient and inevitable as the shifting of tectonic plates. It doesn’t erupt like fire or howl like the wind—it seeps into every crevice of your life, an invisible weight that crushes resistance beneath its relentless pressure. His love is not the passionate frenzy of youth but the solemn, eternal claim of an Archon who has witnessed millennia. To him, you are no mere mortal; you are an artifact of immeasurable value, something to be preserved and guarded with the ferocity of a dragon.

The world he creates for you is gilded, opulent, and suffocating. The room he keeps you in is not a prison at first glance—it’s a sanctuary, filled with treasures and comforts that most could only dream of. The air carries the faint scent of incense, rich and intoxicating, lulling you into a false sense of security. But the longer you stay, the more you notice the details: the impenetrable walls, the locks on the doors that click softly but firmly behind you, the way every window seems to frame the same unchanging landscape.

The jewelry he adorns you with is exquisite, every piece a masterpiece of craftsmanship. Gold cuffs around your wrists, delicate yet unyielding; a collar around your neck, encrusted with amber that seems to glow in the light. He drapes you in finery not to celebrate your beauty, but to mark you as his possession. Each piece is a reminder that you belong to him, that his touch lingers on your very skin.

“You are a treasure beyond mortal comprehension,” he murmurs, his voice a rich baritone that reverberates in your chest. His golden eyes, warm and commanding, hold an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “And treasures must be protected. The world would destroy you with its greed. Only I can preserve your perfection.”

When someone dares to approach you with intent that Zhongli deems improper, the earth itself seems to revolt against them. Their screams echo through the mountains, raw and unrelenting, as the ground splits and swallows them whole. He doesn’t act in haste—his punishments are deliberate, poetic in their cruelty. He encases them in stone, their faces frozen in terror, their bodies turned into monuments to his wrath.

He brings you to see them, not out of malice but necessity. His explanation is calm, almost tender, as he gestures to the stone effigies lining the mountainside. “This is what becomes of those who fail to understand their place. Do not mourn them, my love—they were nothing but dust, unworthy of your light.”

In intimacy, Zhongli is an overwhelming force. His touch is unhurried but suffused with a quiet dominance that leaves you breathless. Every gesture, every kiss, is deliberate, as though he’s carving his presence into your very being. His hands glide over your skin like sculptor's tools, firm yet reverent, shaping you into something only he can claim.

“You are mine,” he whispers against your ear, his breath warm and steady. His voice carries the weight of an oath, a declaration that transcends mortal comprehension. “The stars may fall, the earth may crumble, but you will remain at my side. You will see eternity through my eyes.”

Even his affection feels like a trap, his love as unyielding as stone. There is no escape, no corner of the world where his reach cannot find you. He doesn’t need to shackle you with chains—his power, his presence, is enough to bind you to him. His jealousy is not a fire that burns hot and fast but an eternal petrification, turning you into a piece of his world, preserved forever within his grasp.

────────────

♡ Dainsleif – The Eternal Hunter.

“You think you can hide from me? You forget, little one—I was forged in the abyss. There is no shadow I cannot find you in.”

Dainsleif’s jealousy is a force older than time itself, a chilling void that consumes everything in its path. It is not fiery or chaotic but cold and relentless, like the creeping frost that settles over a dying world. His love is not the kind that comforts or soothes—it isolates, suffocates, and ensnares, binding you to him in a cycle of obsession and despair.

You only begin to understand the depth of his control when it’s far too late. Every path you walk, every whispered conversation, every fleeting thought of freedom—it all leads back to him. The world feels smaller with each passing day, the shadows deeper, and his presence inescapable. He is always there, watching, waiting, a hunter biding his time.

When he appears, it’s always when you least expect, stepping from the darkness as though he is the shadow itself. His eyes glow faintly, a piercing luminescence that chills you to the bone. Tonight, he drags behind him the lifeless body of the one who dared to think you could be theirs. Blood drips steadily onto the floor, pooling like spilled ink, staining the silence of the room.

“You thought I wouldn’t know,” he murmurs, his voice low and resonant, carrying the weight of centuries. His expression is calm, unnervingly so, but his eyes burn with quiet fury. “Did you think they could take you from me? That anyone could?” He steps closer, his shadow engulfing yours, his presence as suffocating as it is magnetic. “Not the gods. Not even death itself. You are mine, little one. And nothing can change that.”

Dainsleif does not rage or scream; his fury is measured, deliberate, and terrifyingly methodical. The evidence of his jealousy is etched into the world around you—a ruined village, a bloodstained battlefield, a silence that feels too heavy. He ensures you see it, ensures you know the lengths he will go to preserve his claim on you.

And when his hands touch you, they are impossibly gentle, the contrast as cruel as it is deliberate. He traces the scars he’s left on your skin—some visible, others invisible, etched into the deepest corners of your soul. Each mark is a story, a vow, a declaration of his ownership. His touch lingers, reverent and obsessive, as though you are a relic of his own design.

“You see these marks?” he whispers, his voice a mixture of awe and menace. His fingertips graze the lines on your skin, the memories of his possessive love. “They tell the story of what you are to me. They are the proof of eternity, of something no one else will ever touch.”

There is a madness in his devotion, one born not of fleeting passion but of centuries of suffering and longing. You are his anchor, the one thing that grounds him in a cursed existence, and he clings to you with the desperation of a drowning man. Yet, his love feels like a weight, an unyielding chain that drags you into the abyss alongside him.

“Do you feel it, little one?” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your ear as he holds you in an unbreakable embrace. “The weight of eternity? That is my love for you—boundless, inescapable, unending. You cannot run from it, and you cannot escape me. I will follow you through every shadow, every lifetime, until nothing remains but us.”

Even in intimacy, Dainsleif is overwhelming. His touch is both a promise and a warning, every caress laden with a sense of inevitability. He moves with a precision that leaves you trembling, as though every moment is calculated to remind you of his dominance. His kisses are slow but consuming, pulling you under like a tide, his words soft yet chilling as they thread through your mind.

“You can fight me, but it’s useless,” he breathes against your lips, his tone almost tender but laced with quiet menace. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. And the moment you tried to run, you sealed your fate.”

In Dainsleif’s arms, you are both cherished and caged, his love a prison of cold eternity. No matter how far you go, no matter how deep you hide, he will always find you, his shadow stretching across the expanse of time itself. You are his, and there is no escape.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. Thank you.

General TAG LIST: @uniquecutie-puffs , @ikevampharem , @tnsophiaonly , @mokingbrd78k , @cooldeermagazine , @mimitk-blog1

[hwaslayer]

project: make you love me (jyh) | eighteen.

♣︎ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: yunho can’t stand how you’re so wrapped up in the notorious campus fuckboy, park seonghwa. he would gladly love you the way you deserve, despite being shy, awkward and the complete opposite of seonghwa. thus, when he finds himself spending more time with you over literature reviews and random study sessions, he decides to take on the challenge to win you over.

—pairing: jeong yunho x f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers/friends to lovers, college au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 4.7k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, yunho being the best boy to his mom and aunt [best boy in general], a lil run in with yunho's ex, yunho and oc just being so soooo in love, small kisses, lots of affection and sweet moments <33

—a/n: one more chapter to go for these lovebirds 💕 happy birthday to our sweet yuyu!! also, next weekend, i'll be posting home (khj). lmk if you want to be on the taglist, but it'll be quite an angsty fic!

♣︎ 2 MONTHS LATER

"No, stop. Yunho." You almost whine when you hear Yunho sigh on the other line. 

"I'm sorry, my girlfriend typically calls me babe."

"No, you're not listening to me. I told you it was fine, I promise."

"Baby, I'm not missing your competition." He says lowly, sitting in the chair while him and his mom wait for her doctor to come in. Your competition fell on the weekend Yunho went home, his mom's important check-in with her primary care physician being scheduled on the same Saturday. He had originally scheduled her check-in for the week, but had to reschedule and open up clinic hours on Saturday due to an emergency that arose at home. Yunho already felt guilty enough that he wouldn't be able to accompany her during the week, so when the news broke that it had been rescheduled for the weekend, Yunho immediately drove home.

And you, being the sweetest and most understanding, hugged him tightly and wished them well. Even though at the bottom of his heart, he also felt guilty for leaving you knowing what the weekend held.

You reassured him over and over again that he didn't need to drive all the way back just to see you, but Yunho couldn't take no for an answer. The appointment was early on, and he knew he'd make it just a bit into the start of the competition. He didn't care if it'd tire him.

He just wanted to be there, too.

"I don't care if you do. Your mom needs you the most. My competition is just a competition."

"I know how much this means to you, though."

"There will be more, k? I promise there will be more opportunities for you to cheer me on." He sighs.

"Including this one."

"You're so stubborn." You half-heartedly scold him with a chuckle. "Go. Be with your mom. Please."

"I'll see you in a bit."

"Jeong Yunho." You give off a small groan, making him laugh.

"I love you." He says all loud and proud, making his mom silently chuckle off to the side while her son continues to show off his affection.

"Yeah, love you too. Even though, you don't listen to me!" You scold once more before hanging up.

"Ah, she's a piece of work." He mutters to himself as he does a head tilt.

"She's cute." His mom says, sitting on the chair in front of him, making Yunho chuckle.

"Hm, equally cute and a handful." Yunho leans onto his knees. "You're still okay with coming to her competition, right?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." She gives Yunho a sweet smile. "I hope she doesn't mind that we'll be there?"

"Of course not. She'd be happy to see you and auntie."

"Is her family going to be there, too?" He nods.

"You'll finally meet them." She laughs.

"I'm sure they're just as lovely as her." 

At this point, the doctor knocks on the door a few times to signal his entrance before walking in, a bright smile on his face as he greets the both of them. The check-up carries on for close to an hour, where Yunho is listening attentively to make sure he's taking note of what to do to keep his mom healthy and comfortable. Towards the end though, he's satisfied with how everything turns out and he's happy to know his mom is doing well and is stable.

On the way out, he holds her by the arm, going over the visit and proudly reassuring his mom that she was doing great with taking care of herself and her health. He helps her into the car and makes sure she's buckled in before walking over to the driver's side and rushing over to the house to pick up his aunt. Once everyone is in the car and ready to head to the competition, Yunho makes a quick stop at a floral shop to buy you a bouquet. He shyly rolls his eyes and blushes when his mom and aunt tease him about it, his mom saying she rose him well and that you'd love the flowers.

When Yunho arrives, he sees a few people still trailing into the venue and it eases his mind a bit that he's not the only one walking in late. He gets lucky with parking in the main lot next door, careful to keep up a good pace that both his mom and aunt are able to work with. Getting inside, the competition has already started [as expected], but the group performing isn't one he's familiar with. Yunho holds onto the huge bouquet of flowers he bought, setting it onto his lap when they settle in a few open seats near the middle. He lets out a breath of relief when he quickly scans the program and sees that your group isn't up until later.

Overall, it's a pretty lively event and everyone in the crowd is cheering and roaring no matter what the occasion is on stage. It isn't a huge competition, and a lot of the groups are smaller than your own dance group; but everyone seems to be happy on stage and enjoying themselves. Yunho thinks that's all that really matters, and it's nice for people who have the same passion to get together for some fun, friendly competition.

Plus, he's enjoying himself because his aunt and his mom are— he truthfully was afraid it would be too loud or chaotic for them, but he feels relieved and a bit more comfortable. Everything moves so, so fast that the one moment he blinks, he finds the lights dimming before shining onto familiar faces. 

He sees your familiar figure. Your friends. 

He feels his heart beating out of his chest, the adrenaline rushing through his veins. He knows you and your friends will kill it out there and he's excited for the crowd to see what you have in store. He finds himself with a major death grip on the arm rests because he feels himself wanting to get up and cheer you on in the middle of the aisle [regardless of how embarrassing that may be, he doesn't really care]. But, he manages to stay still; though his eyes glow and are full of admiration.

He is utterly enamored by you, and Yunho's mom and aunt think it's the sweetest thing.

You gracefully and powerfully move across the stage and Yunho didn't know it was possible to fall in love with you even more. He finds himself cheering loudly, hoping you can hear him and see him from the stage, hoping you know he's there and will always be there to support you through anything. Because he wants to, and he loves seeing you happy doing what you love doing. When the piece finally ends, the crowd is incredibly hyped and Yunho immediately shoots up to stand and clap, flowers now resting on his mom's lap for safety measures.

"She's so good! They all are! They deserve to win this!" His aunt leans over to look at him.

"I know. They do." He smiles from ear to ear.

"Look at your ears, they're so red." His mom gently tugs on his ear. "You're so in love." She teases.

"And what about it?" He pouts and whines. "I just like showing her off. She's good everything she does, and I want her to know that." Lord knows Seonghwa didn't put in any effort to make you feel valued and reassured. He's not entirely sure how long you've been feeling that way, how long you've doubted yourself— but, as long as he's around, he'll make sure you never feel that way again. How could anyone ever compare to you?

"As you should." She smiles at him.

The rest of the show goes on just as lively and entertaining as it started, with a small break before winners are announced. Yunho is bouncing his leg in anticipation, eager to hear the results from the panel. It doesn't come as a surprise though when he hears two other groups winning second and third place because he knows. He just knows.

And he's right.

When the MC announces your group name for first place, Yunho swears he almost loses his voice from cheering. He sees you and your friends with happy tears streaming down your cheeks, and even though he believed everyone had a fair chance at winning today, you all truly deserved it. He knows how late you've stayed in the studio working on choreography, scraping an entire piece just to replace it with something 'better' even if it stressed you out doing so. There was no other group that showed the same dedication and passion as you and your friends, and he really, really wanted this for you all more than anything.

He can't wait to see you and hug you.

Kiss you.

old you. 

Just be with you.

When the event ends, he's following behind his mom and aunt, keeping eyes on them to make sure they don't get lost in the crowd. He runs into your family exiting through the next set of double doors on his left and waves. Amidst the crowd chaos, he manages to say hi to your family and give them hugs before introducing his mom and his aunt— excusing himself shortly afterwards so he can run to the bathroom and be back before heading outside. It's a bit of a line, but Yunho waits patiently so he doesn't have to run off while he's with you. When he's done and making his way back outside, he still has to navigate through the crowds to get to your family and his family hanging out in an open area; almost running into another person just as he's about to make it over to the spot.

"Y-Yunho?" She almost comes face to face with his chest when she abruptly turns, trying to navigate her way through the crowd.

"Hayun?"

"Hey, nice to see you here?" She questions, unsure what Yunho would be doing here. It's been awhile, but from what she remembered, he was never into these things. She does a once-over and gives him a tiny smile, slightly ogling at how good he looks after all these years. He is glowing.

"Uh, yeah." He isn't really sure what to say since last time, she acted weird about seeing him. Maybe she had no choice but to greet him; she damn near ran straight into this chest. Still. It's a bit awkward, but it's nice to see she's at least well. "What're you doing here?"

"Well, I was on break, I'm leaving late tonight. My cousin performed with one of the groups. I don't know if you remember her, Soojin?" He nods.

"I do remember her. I guess she's grown well? I clearly didn't recognize her on the stage." She chuckles before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

"What're you doing here?"

"My girlfriend competed, too. Her family's here, my family. She was in the group that placed first." He looks over his shoulder before looking back down at her.

"Oh, that's sweet."

"Yeah." He clears his throat. "Anyway, I hope everything's been good with you. I hope you have a safe flight back, too."

"Thanks, and same." She nods. "I hope your mom and aunt are okay."

"They are. Thanks. Should probably get back to them." He gives off a small smile and a curt nod before turning on his heel to find his family, your family and everyone else. He sees Chaery and Seungmin come out from the side door before you and Soobin follow. He can see you searching high and low for him and it makes his heart flip. 

"Yunho!" You squeal when you finally find him in the sea of people. You instantly run over, jumping into his arms while he holds onto you tightly.

"There she is." He says. "Hi baby." He says against your head. Hayun smiles to herself when she sees the moment you two share, quickly reminiscing about the times her and Yunho had in the past. But, in the end, she's happy that he's found someone and that he's genuinely happy. Yunho deserved it.

"Hi." You giggle, pulling back slightly to kiss him on the lips. 

"You did amazing, love." He gently puts you down.

"Did I?! Do these look like the steps of a first place winner?" You do a silly little dance, making him laugh before pulling you for another kiss.

"Yeah, they do. Steps from the best, actually." You laugh and playfully pinch his arm.

"Goodjob, Y/N! You did great up there!" His mom and aunt say, followed by your family. You greet all of them one by one, giving them hugs and thanking them for coming— especially Yunho's mom and aunt for tagging along. It seems that your family and his were already kicking it off, your dad offering for them to join dinner along with Chaery, Soobin and Seungmin's family. 

"Yes, please come to dinner with us!" You squeeze his mom's hand with a smile. She nods and pulls you in for another hug, the four of you walking alongside each other while your family, Chaery's, Soobin's and Seungmin's walked ahead. You and his mom talk a bit about your dance journey as you walk along before you get into the car with Soobin, Seungmin and Chaery; letting everyone know you'll meet them at the restaurant nearby.

You assume most of your group will end up at the same restaurant, and it ends up being true for the most part. Once the four of you unload and start heading inside, you run into Yeonjun and Jongho with their families. The restaurant ends up escorting everyone to the back area where most of the tables are available for bigger groups, and instantly gets to work on providing drinks and small appetizers for everyone to enjoy while looking at the menu. On your left is Chaery, while Yunho is on your right; the both of them cracking jokes with each other while the families order the main courses for tonight.

"Yuyu, how do you feel about graduation coming up?"

"I don't know. Good, for the most part."

"Dude, it's gonna be so different! Have you already applied to internships and jobs?"

"Yeah, I have. Got a few interviews coming up in the next few weeks."

"Good shit!" Chaery claps. "Your man is gonna be so prepared for the world." She nudges you on the side, making you giggle.

"I know, right?"

"Seriously, it's nothing. I don't wanna have a huge gap. I just wanna get into it, I guess." 

"That's really good, though. Do you plan to have a party or anything?" He cocks a brow up and points at himself.

"Me?"

"Yes!"

"No, god no." Yunho laughs. "I'm very much good off of a party."

"What if we threw you one at the apartment? Or took you out to the club?!"

"No, don't do that. I promise, I'm good."

"Babe, we're gonna have to at least do dinner or something." He looks down at you with a fond smile before placing a chaste kiss to the side of your head.

"If you want."

"It's your graduation!" You laugh.

"Yeah, and quite frankly, I'd rather much just spend the night with you doing other things." He says lowly near your ear, causing the heat to rise to your cheeks while you subtly nibble on your bottom lip.

"Cute, dinner sounds nice and cozy." Chaery adds. "But since you don't plan to celebrate with a party—" She leans over to look at her parents. "Mom, dad, Yunho's graduating soon! Can we order some dessert?"

"That's a good idea. Should we order some dessert to celebrate early?" Yunho's ears turn red as he shakes his head and refuses.

"No, no! It's okay! We don't have to—"

"Yeah, let's order some dessert!" Your dad agrees, along with the rest of the table. Your dad calls over the waitress to add dessert to the order for the entire table, reassuring Yunho's mom and aunt that they didn't need to worry about dinner [or dessert] tonight.

"Thank you." He says shyly.

"So, Yunho. Have you been getting ready for graduation and everything?" Yunho nods, essentially telling your family [and everyone else] what he told Chaery and how he just wants to get right into working after graduation. Mainly, Yunho wants to do this for his mom and aunt, but also for you. Because life includes you now; all about you.

Once the food arrives, everyone takes turns and rotates the dishes amongst each other before setting it down in the middle of the table for seconds and so on. Yunho doesn't even help himself first and decides to serve you some food before tending to himself. Dinner goes on happily, with everyone in good spirits and conversing in between bites about school and upcoming summer plans. Seungmin's dad mentions camping and how he wants to coordinate something for the group this summer, knowing the perfect campsite about 3 hours away that resides right by a lake. He invites Yunho, his mom and his aunt, reassuring them that they'd enjoy it over there, too. 

Yunho slightly nudges you and smiles while drinking his water, leaning closer to you just as he sets the glass back down.

"Any other plans for the summer, love?"

"Not that I know of. Maybe I'll get myself a little summer job, too.

"Mm, maybe I can help fill the rest of your schedule up? If you're okay with that?"

"If you won't be too busy working!"

"I won't be. I'll always make time for you, you know that, right?" He gives you a soft look. "Plus, while we still have the time open, I wanna plan something and take you somewhere."

"Like where?" He shrugs.

"Somewhere where we can't drive to."

"Oh, like an actual trip-trip?!"

"Yup." 

"Eep, where!" You squeal and he chuckles. 

"I'll figure it out. Leave it up to me, hm?" 

"I'm actually so lucky, it's insane." Yunho laughs a little louder at the compliment while shaking his head, digging into the last bits of his food.

"I feel the same. But, I really just wanna spend as much time with you as I can."

"Sounds like it'll be a good summer for us." You eat up the rest of your food before setting your plate aside nicely. "Babe, are you sure you're okay to drive after? Do you want me to come, or do you want me to drive your mom and aunt back?"

"I would never in a million years let you drive alone like that." 

"But, you're tired." You pout.

"Mm, all worth it though. Cause we got to see you guys win, plus I get cake." You laugh.

"I knew you wanted the cake." He playfully shushes you. "I can come along, though!"

"No. Absolutely not."

"Why not?" You whine. "Just tell me you don't want me around, jeez." He smirks.

"That's never the case. I just know you'll be tired and I want you to rest. Promise I'll be good, okay?"

"Can I wait for you at your spot, then?"

"Of course you can. Yeo's gonna be home by the time we get back."

"Perfect, I'll bother him 'till you come." He gives you another big smile just as the dessert makes its way to the table. Everyone loudly cheers for the group's win today, along with congratulating Yunho for graduation coming up. You look at him in pure admiration when he blushes and respectfully thanks everyone for the cake and greetings. 

And it's that moment when you catch the sparkle in his eyes, the glow, the warmth radiating from him. It's not that Yunho didn't have all these things in the beginning; they were there, just dim. Not as bright, not as warm. Over time, he's grown and blossomed into one of the most important people in your life, someone everyone clearly adored and cherished.

That might've been the moment that changed the trajectory of everything for you two because it finally clicked that he was who you wanted— back then, now, in the future.

You love Yunho; really, really love Yunho. 

Everything about him brings pure love, genuine happiness and safety. Three important factors that you longed for in a relationship, but were never familiar with until Yunho came around.

The rest of dinner goes on well, with everyone fighting to pay the bill before it eventually settles between your family and Chaery's. Everyone walks alongside of each other before parting to their own cars and preparing to make their journey back home. Before you part ways with Yunho, his mom and aunt, you give them a big, tight hug before giving Yunho a quick peck on the lips. You look him dead in the eye and make him promise that he'd be absolutely okay to drive back and forth, and that he'd stay behind if he really couldn't make it back. He gives you a smug smirk, making you pinch him on the arm before bidding your last farewell to his family. You follow suit with your own family, your dad hopping into his car while your mom and sister drove together.

The ride back home is fairly calm, with Soobin in the driver's seat. There's the occasional bickering between Seungmin and Chaery, but otherwise, everyone is busy recounting the day and discussing the different groups and their pieces. Surprisingly, you're all still energetic throughout the entire ride; not one person complaining about being tired or wanting to catch up on sleep.

It does change once you finally arrive home and set your things aside, immediately putting the flowers into a free vase with some water. Soobin plops onto the couch face down as he claims he's exhausted from all the driving, while Seungmin sits on the floor beside him. You hurry into the bathroom and take a quick shower so Chaery can follow and get comfortable. You throw on some comfortable clothes and unpack your things and clean up around your area of the room before heading over to Yunho and Yeosang's for the evening. You say your goodnight's to your roommates before walking over, your Uggs making a loud noise as you drag them across the concrete. When you arrive at the unit, the kitchen lights are on, but you can barely hear a peep through the other side of the door. You knock a few times before Yeosang is coming to the door in his tank top and sweats.

"Hey hey!"

"Oh, hey! I heard you placed first! Congrats!" Yeosang pulls you into a hug before stepping aside to let you in. "Where's your boyfriend?"

"He's dropping off his mom and aunt, then he'll come back."

"They came to the competition, too?"

"Yeah, they did!" You respond as you walk into Yunho's room, with Yeo following and leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed tightly against his chest.

"Damn, what a drive. Sorry I couldn't make it. It was my baby cousin's birthday party."

"No, it's okay! You didn't miss much anyway."

"I missed my friends placing first, so yeah." You give him a tiny smile and shake your head.

"There's still next year. You have plenty of other opportunities to come when you aren't busy!"

"You're right."

"If you really wanna make up for it though, you can keep me company while I wait for Yunho." He laughs and nods.

"Yeah, of course. What do you have in mind?" He follows you out to the living room.

"I don't know. Maybe we can just watch a random movie? He'll be back by the time it's over, hopefully."

"Gotta watch a long one. Like Lord of the Rings or something. Star Wars. Avengers: Endgame."

"Ou, I'm down for some Avengers."

"Cool." You lay on the couch with the blanket wrapped around you while Yeosang sits on the floor, navigating through the movies before he lands on the Avengers. The both of you quietly begin the movie, with Yeosang reciting very random facts about the Avengers. You respond with follow-up questions, allowing Yeosang to do a deep dive. It's not until about an hour and a half in that you feel the exhaustion hitting you; eyes and body suddenly feeling heavy.

"You get what I'm saying right?" Yeosang asks, but doesn't receive a response. "Y/N?" He calls for you, only to turn over his shoulder and see you fast asleep. He chuckles to himself before returning his attention to the TV, turning down the volume so that it isn't too loud for you. 

In the next 45 minutes, Yunho quietly walks into the apartment, seeing you fast asleep on the couch while Yeosang continues to watch TV on the floor— the movie no longer on. He smirks at Yunho before turning back to check on you, a silent chuckle leaving his lips.

"She's been asleep?" Yunho whispers while crouching to your level.

"Yeah, she fell asleep a bit ago. Didn't realize until I asked her a question about the movie we were watching and I didn't get a response." Yunho quietly laughs a bit. "I didn't wanna just leave her here, though."

"I'll bring her in. Thanks for keeping her company."

"You must be exhausted with all the back and forth driving today."

"Fuck yeah, I am. But, as long as my mom's happy and she's happy." Yunho smiles at you, brushing the hair away from your face.

"Alright, well, I'm good off of this show." Yunho turns to the TV seeing it randomly stationed a cooking show.

"Okay Chef Boyardee." Yeosang snorts before gently tapping the couch and standing.

"Gotta do better before we get into the real world, am I right?" He salutes. "I'm off." Yunho bids him farewell before returning his attention to you. You haven't budged, and Yunho can tell how exhausted you are by the way your lips poke out into a pout, soft snores in between each breath.

"Baby. I'm gonna carry you to the bed, okay?" He whispers. You let out a sound that makes Yunho giggle to himself before he scoops you up into his arms and holds you tightly.

"I could've walked." You suddenly blurt out.

"Dunno cutie, you were pretty knocked out." He smiles at you. "It's okay. You had a long day."

"So did you."

"I don't care about me, I care about you." He chuckles, gently laying you down on the bed. "I need to take a shower, I'll be back." You quietly nod and turn to your side, too exhausted to fight for him to stay and be needy. He heads to the shower and lets the hot water cascade down his body, feeling the exhaustion finally catch up to him. Although he tends to think he's pretty selfless, he didn't think he'd be driving from home to catch a performance, dropping his family off then driving back to the apartment all in a day. But, he couldn't care less because he wanted to do this for you, and he wanted to see you happy. There's nothing that satisfies Yunho more than seeing you smile.

He lets out a heavy sigh when he hops out and runs the towel through his wet hair, turning on the hair dryer to dry it off completely. He gets himself ready for bed, walking out in a plain shirt and pajama bottoms to finally slip in next to you. You instantly turn and throw your arm over him the moment you feel the bed dip, Yunho chuckling to himself when he pulls you close.

"Yuyu."

"Mhm sleepyhead?" 

"You're graduating soon."

"I am."

"I'm proud of you."

"Thank you. I gotta say I'm proud of me, too." You both laugh a bit.

"What's gonna happen with us?"

"Nothing." He smiles. "I'll still be here. You'll still be here. I'll find myself a good job and hope I'll be able to provide for you more."

"You already give me a lot." You softly say, eyes still closed as you lay on his chest.

"Not enough."

"Hm." You hum. "You're enough." 

"I appreciate that, love. But, you really do deserve the world and I'm trying to get you that, okay? Let me." You giggle.

"You're the best."

"Baby?"

"Yes?"

"You see us being together for a long time, right?" He asks, because even though he's confident in your relationship, he still likes to be reassured. Because god, does he truly see his life with you. It hasn't been long but there is not one bone in his body that makes him think otherwise. He wants to build with you, grow with you, be with you all the time. He wants nothing but you, and he's so, so sure of it.

"Of course."

"Even living together in the future and doing all that crazy stuff grownups do?" You laugh.

"Yes."

"Okay." He kisses your forehead.

"Do you want that with me, Yunho?"

"Yeah. I do, Y/N." You sleepily smile against him and hug him tighter, not wanting to let him go. 

"I like that." He leaves a soft, feathery kiss against your lips before holding you closer than he ever could, shutting his own eyes to finally get some sleep.

♣︎ taglist: @s-nsanshine @soupbinlily @tyongff-ff @jiminiscricket @g1g1l @staytinyinmybpack @woomyteez @gfksz @bitchwhytho @savluvsmingi @thisisntmyrightera @hyukssunflower @miriamxsworld @tmtxtf @kuromibabe04 @lmnhead @carrietwrites @tournesol155 @persphonesorchid @txt-yaomi @mxnsxngie @h-nji @mundayoonimnida @jalapeno-princess @nakiiko @asjkdk @kunikku @idkwgoh @kyeos4ng @agust-d2 @araknoid @bintificreads @primoppang @betray-the-light @aurorasjoongie @wineyoungie @yunhotteokkk @yungigiggles @jaerisdiction @ignoretheskies @luminouskalopsia @naeviscall @vixensss @choisansplushie @arya9111 @my-lightspirit @dazednconfusion @astro-doll-the-star @faesmingi @idfkeddieishot @startinystay @emily505 @mgdixon @mcsalterego @cheynalexilaiho @svintsandghosts @mismatchfluffysocks @meeitany @au-ghosttype

[sharkrocket]

THE SUPER SCUFFED THANATICA LABS MODERN AU

There is so much groundwork that me and my partner failed to cover/did not think about, but I think we're going to just lay out what we have and just build upon it as more solid ideas come to fruition, so here we go

THANATICA LABS

Research corporation funded by the Powers That Be(?)

Dedicated to defeating death by prolonging life

Akin to Black Mesa or Aperture Science - Unethical experimentation going on behind the scenes

-----

DANIIL DANKOVSKY

Maybe not the founder? Maybe lead researcher?

Maybe founded it when it was a small lab and was bought out by The Powers to greatly expand funding?

Not exactly on the level - HAS done and WILL do shady things again

KNOWS what he's doing is illegal to some extent, but he tries to wash his hands of the dirty work (alleviate some guilt maybe?)

Hands the recruiters a list of requirements for his new hires (potential lab rats), lets them do the searching and he'll conduct the interviews

I have no idea what these requirements are

Sometimes the lab assistants go missing, he doesn't know anything about that, don't ask him

He LIKES his designers clothes - SOMETIMES it comes from Thanatica's grant money, SOMETIMES it's a few hundred here or there, BIG DEAL

-----

ARTEMY BURAKH

Studied in the Capital or IS studying in the Capital, and is in SO SO SO much debt

Is having trouble getting work because nobody is going to hire a surgeon with no ACCREDITED experience (cutting up bodies in your dad's unlicensed clinic does not count)

Looking to expand the medical practices of his provincial studies(?)

Maybe father has an illness(?) Perhaps Isidor suffering some kind of debilitating disease called the sand pest?

Was contacted by Thanatica Labs for a low level Lab Assistant position - It's Thanatica Labs, of course he's going to respond, that's a lot of money for an entry position, and he's going to have his name attached to a prestigious establishment

He's hired - Is under the pretense he can save up some money, maybe get some lab experience to eventually propose his own research somewhere else

Alternatively, went to university, left university to go home to tend to family business, came back to the Capital to resume studies and is looking for ways to expand his thesis?

Keeps his head down and minds his own business, the less he's under the eye of the lead scientist, the better

Doesn't mean he isn't talking to people and keeping a watchful eye - things are happening that aren't adding up, and it isn't just the grant money

Because he's so desperate for a job, it may mean he's more agreeable to participate in some of Thanatica's shady dealings

-----

THEIR RELATIONSHIP

This is so stupidly long, continued under cut

Daniil interviews Artemy and is so rude and condescending about it

Artemy is either biting back insults or being too sassy for his own good

Artemy gets the job either way, but it's VERY funny to imagine that Artemy failed the interview UNCONDITIONALLY, but was hired anyway under the pretense that Daniil didn't expect him to stick around for very long

"He's so handsome, shame that he's such a dick"

"He's so handsome, shame that he'll be medically indisposed for the sake of research"

Artemy figures out Thanatica is doing illegal experimentation but somehow despite this, it sort of falls in line with what Artemy is hoping to accomplish with his own studies (untested and unproven methods of healing that haven't been approved by any board)

Artemy decides to do his own experimentation behind Daniil's back

Daniil smells something suspicious, equipment and samples are missing (its his lab, he WILL get to the bottom of this)

He's been watching the new hire closely (assessing his potential for experimentation), eventually finds out that he's been performing experiments of his own with methods he's never seen before

Wants to put him under a microscope (literal) --> Wants to put him under a microscope (figurative)

Their confrontation can go a couple ways

Daniil approaches Artemy and offers him the resources to continue his work in exchange for doing some underhanded deeds to progress Daniil's own research

OR Artemy blackmails Daniil with the evidence he's gathered in exchange for resources - Daniil is largely unfazed by this, but sees Artemy's morals aren't exactly on the level either and he finds him very interesting so he allows him his resources in exchange for dirty work

Laughing at the idea that Daniil finds out that Artemy has no accredited experience and he lied on his resume to get an interview - Now he's even MORE desirable for underhanded work (thank you inkpot-demigod)

This would be the point Artemy is bagging bodies

Starts off with superficial antagonistic attraction (purely on looks, otherwise has disrespect for each other, condescending and rude) --> eventually develops into mutual respect for each other's work (cordial, maybe even friendly, "oh god why do they keep looking at each other like that") --> eventually develops into unprofessional workplace relationship (they are fucking in places where they definitely have no business doing so)

-----

"can we have artemy need a place to stay and daniil offers a space in his apartment and artemy packs him lunches to take to work. daniil thinks he's being subtle but just the fact he's eating lunch... all of his coworkers Know"

At some point during the relationship (most likely early on) Artemy mentions that his lease is ending and he's going to need to spend time looking for an apartment (or suggests that he needs to find a roommate to save some money because BOY DOES HE NEED IT)

Daniil IMMEDIATELY blurts out that he has space in his apartment (HE IS NOT JEALOUS, THIS IS JUST THE MOST ECONOMIC AND REASONABLE CHOICE, HE IS THE LEAD RESEARCHER AND HE CAN AFFORD A NICE SPACIOUS PLACE THAT HAPPENS TO ACCOMMODATE TWO)

It's closer proximity to the lab

They can keep discussing things in the privacy of his home

Not that Daniil NEEDS to save money, but having some extra is a plus

Artemy makes meals, food just APPEARS and Daniil never has to think about it

Co-workers are noticing that Daniil is ACTUALLY bringing lunches and eating food, hmmm very suspicious.....

Eva (lab receptionist, more on this later) notices the two of them coming into work at the same time in alarming frequency both carrying lunches and she's like SUSPICIOUS EYEZOOM

-----

"if the kids are involved with this i think it'd be kind of funny if daniil and artemy are desperately trying to hide the fact that they kill people but the kids definitely know that they kill people"

Not sure if they can live in Daniil's apartment if Artemy and Daniil have a living arrangement - Could be frequent visitors if Artemy is living there

Not sure about their relation to Artemy - would love to have him be uncle to his brother's adopted kids but this might get complicated

The kids are savvy enough to know about fucked up corporations, they are doing some MURDER in there

"Are you a mad scientist?"

"No pumpkin, I do very important research to extend the human lifespan"

"Oh…. That means people are dying in there right?"

"……."

-----

"i'm having a vision of daniil wanting to properly court artemy after a few trysts but he doesn't communicate this very well and he also has very little experience with this so he invites him to a fancy dinner or maybe even a gala and artemy is clearly out of his element the whole time and daniil is trying to make this work and its NOT... if anything artemy thinks daniil is trying to pull some power move on him AND THEN. at the end of the evening when daniil is trying to charmingly flirt and do a kiss, artemy is just like. what are you DOING and they do at least SOME communicating. its a START. this au is a murder romcom"

Daniil coming to terms with the fact that he's so gay for the new hire, oh god he's so gay, who allowed Artemy to be so handsome AND intelligent AND clever AND funny what the hell

He keeps looking in Artemy's direction and Temy thinks he's scrutinizing his work, but god knows Daniil needs to get ahold of himself

He has an idea: Invite Artemy to the next charity gala, show him off to some higher ups, thus giving him the opportunity to sing his praises, and Artemy should get the idea, then later in the night have some drinks and who knows

Daniil extends the invite to Artemy, Temy thinks he's getting some kind of promotion, so he agrees

The event is way bigger and way fancier than Artemy was anticipating, Daniil is showing him off to a lot of executives and Temy is trying to hold his own here - If this is some kind of test, he's going to wring Daniil's neck

"Why is Daniil being so flattering, is he making fun of me"

The two are finally alone and Daniil is sitting where his leg is bumping into Artemy's, he has his hand on Temy's thigh and he's leaning in so, so, so close and Temy panics - Not that he doesn't have his share of attraction to his boss but what is he getting at here? Some kinda power move? A cruel test? Blackmail?

They have been misreading each other this entire time and the both of them are UNBELIEVABLY embarrassed

Time to talk things out and admit some things to each other

-----

SOME LOOSE MUSINGS ABOUT OTHER CHARACTERS

Eva Yan

Receptionist at Thanatica, maybe specifically for Daniil's office/lab whatever

The only thing that matters is that she always sees Daniil and Artemy going in and out of the place

Privy to a lot of gossip and goings-on of the place, knows about some of the shadier stuff but she's far from put-off

In fact, she wants to be Daniil's next experiment and he is not having it

Dresses like "I have to go to the office but I'm going to a music festival at 6" boho chic

Yulia Lyuricheva

Works for the government helping to orchestrate shady evil things but she's not actively invested in being evil this is just a job where she can apply her mathematical genius

Eva of course goes on about wanting to be an experiment and neither Eva's enthusiasm nor the fact that Thanatica is so shady is surprising to her

Clara

She doesn't have to be here but if she is here than she runs around Thanatica like a rat and no one knows where she came from

She claims to be an experiment gone wrong but really she is just a girl in need of some caring parental figures in her life

Lara Ravel

In the city on a revenge mission to kill Alexander Block for the death of her father

DANIIL AND LARA MURDER SPREE WHEEEEEEE LET THEM HAVE IT I WANT IT

I have no idea how to make this happen

Block

Thanatica is not surviving this one Dankovsky oooooo it is not surviving

Head of the military operation to destroy all evidence related to Thanatica's experiments?

Roles of other characters unclear..... To be determined....

THANK YOU FOR READING THIS TEXT DUMP, MORE TO BE ADDED IF WE THINK OF IT

[hiiragi7]

@blaugrana-blues People say this about any intersex variation. Just how "different" do we need to be in order to be "intersex enough"? Do we need to all be true hermaphrodites to "count"? Do we all need to be infertile? Where is the line to you?

Are people with CAIS and persistent mullerian ducts who can still have children no longer intersex? Are people with C-CAH who do not present with ambiguous genitals at birth no longer intersex?

Why are you so hellbent on turning intersex people into some mysterious foreign group that you can't conceive any ""normal"" person being a part of?

Aside from many intersex people not showing obvious physical signs, aside from PCOS and NCAH and various other adrenal disorders having so much symptom overlap you cannot visibly tell the difference without testing, aside from PCOS itself being widely misused currently by the medical field and constantly inappropriately diagnosed upon the first meeting with a hyperandrogenic patient without even doing any testing at all when it's meant to be a diagnosis of exclusion, aside from PCOS not always meaning "just extra hair" - Why does it hurt you for people to identify as intersex?

Why is it so much of an insult to you to be lumped in with us that you felt the need to comment this on my post?

You also do not have to identify as intersex if you do not want to, but there is absolutely no need to drag down others who do just because you felt personally attacked by a post aimed at intersex people with PCOS.

I am also going to link you three studies/reviews about PCOS and just how much overlap it has with other intersex variations so you can see how pointless it is trying to make a distinct difference between the lived experiences of those with PCOS and "The Actual Intersex People" because I am tired and I hope you will read these if your question was actually in any sort of good faith.

Relative Prevalence of Different Androgen Excess Disorders in 950 Women Referred because of Clinical Hyperandrogenism

Polycystic Ovary Syndrome and NC-CAH: Distinct Characteristics and Common Findings. A Systematic Review

Differentiating Polycystic Ovary Syndrome from Adrenal Disorders

Regardless of the cause, if you are visibly not within the "socially acceptable" sex binary, you're going to get treated like shit. There is absolutely no reason to want such drastic seperation between PCOS and the rest of the intersex community, we need to work together against oppression and discrimination, not apart.

[scientia-rex]

Good morning! I have a question. When I look up info about vitamin D, I come across many claims that people generally don't get enough of it. In a recent episode of Maintenance Phase, however, the hosts called it a "scam" or overblown, at least (I don't remember the exact wording). So, like, what's the deal with vitamin D? Do Americans get enough of it?

Probably, mostly. At the very least, people should be tested before starting repletion. It probably has a role in osteoporosis treatment and prevention, BUT how much to take and what form and when is HOTLY debated and frequently conclusions are changing.

Just to take you on a spin through the most recent Cochrane reviews (THESE ARE NOT SINGLE STUDIES, in case any of the research-naive out there want to get pissy about them; look up what a Cochrane review actually is before trying to shit on it; also note that I did NOT say this will cover every fucking person and every hypothetical they can come up with, jesus CHRIST):

No role for vitamin D in asthma

Insufficient evidence to recommend it in sickle cell

Raising vitamin D levels in cystic fibrosis patients is not beneficial

No evidence of benefit of vitamin D in MS

Supplementing vitamin D in pregnancy may have small benefits but also risk of harms

No clinically significant benefit from vitamin D supplementation in chronic pain

Insufficient data on vitamin D in inflammatory bowel disease, but no evidence of benefit

No evidence of benefit of vitamin D supplementation in liver disease

Vitamin D does not appear to prevent cancer in general population

No evidence for benefit in supplementation of vitamin D in premenopausal women to prevent bone density loss

Possible small mortality benefit of D3, but not D2, in elderly patients, but also increased risk of kidney stones and hypercalcemia

Vitamin D alone ineffective, but combined with calcium may be effective, in preventing bone fractures in older adults

Insufficient evidence for vitamin D improving COVID-19 outcomes

Now, vitamin D plus calcium in people who have post-menopausal bone density loss does seem to prevent fractures. This is why doctors routinely recommend it. However, dosage and formulation are still debated as data are insufficient, and uncertainty still large.

So, do you need to supplement? Probably not. There is some fairly weak evidence that vitamin D supplementation may help with depression, but I would argue that it's going to be most relevant in people with pre-existing deficiencies, which Medicare is just hellbent on not letting me test for anymore. They've narrowed the coverage codes for testing so now even know vitamin D deficiency isn't considered a good enough reason to test. So Medicare has very clearly decided it's not relevant, for whatever that's worth, I spit on their graves, etc. Of course, then you get into the question of what counts as a deficiency, which we also really don't know.

And to be clear, I wasn't looking through the Cochrane review results with an angle--those are most of the first page of search results on their site, with the only one skipped being similar to another one I mentioned, and I stopped when I got bored. These should not be paywalled, as I am not logged into anything and I can read it all, so try clicking the side menu on the right if you have trouble getting into the weeds.

If anything, running through this little exercise has made me less likely to recommend vitamin D supplementation, so do with that what you will.

[wildlife4life]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

*A nylon gloved hand reaches out of a dark hole that smells like toothpaste and medical grade cleaner. In its trembling fingers is a wrinkled torn out note page. At the top there are crossed out chart notes and below that are the words NFL Buck snippet*

I LIVE!!!!!!!!! What up my buddie peeps? Making a surprise NFL Buck tidbit drop between studying and having my fingers in people's mouths (I am not a crazy person, I am in Dental Assisting school and doing my clinical rounds). The writing beans woke up for once and I had to share! But this does not mean a new chapter is going to drop any time soon. I am nearing the end of my schooling, on top of being a mom and running a household, so the time to actually sit and write, and have the writing beans working is very rare these days. BUT! NFL Buck is still in the works and another chapter is coming, just need to be patient with me. To those who are being patient and have stuck around for this fic, thank you.

Tagged by the super lovely and super talented @spaceprincessem. I am ever patient and beyond excited for your upcoming mockingjay buddie fic!

"Drinks are on me tonight." Eddie states firmly before Chimney could finishing reaching back for his wallet. The older man looks back and does a mental count of everyone that came along after their very rough shift and can't hide his small wince, "You sure Diaz? Including Athena, thats 10 weary firefighter bar tabs you'll be covering." And Chimney knows better than most how much just one thirsty civil servant can put away, let alone 10. Eddie shrugs one shoulder and gives him a small smirk, "Oh yea. I mean technically drinks are on Buck tonight, as thanks for saving me after the whole 'reckless spider-man' routine." His right hand throws up air quotes while his left is pulling his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. Gifting an expensive coffee machine for the firehouse was one thing and knowing the basic financial logistics of Eddie's upcoming birthday golf trip was another. But having the funds on hand for an on the whim night out with several thirsty hard working men and women, was tipping onto the side of skeptical. And Chimney needed to voice it. "Doesn't he have an expensive birthday trip for you to save up for?" Chim quirks an eyebrow. The Texas native's smirk broadens. Instead of vocally answering him, Eddie opens his wallet and pulls out a fucking black American Express card. Chimney's jaw literally drops, as the bar lights reflect off the silver EDMUNDO DIAZ stamped at the bottom. Next to him, Hen audibly gasps before quickly collecting herself and shouting out, "118, drinks are on Diaz!" And is immediately met with loud hollers and cheers. Rich man Diaz laughs loud and reaches past a still stunned Chimney to hand the prized card to the wide eyed bar tender. In a hook and ladder joint, a card like Eddie's has probably never even come close to even the block of the bar and Chimney's only seen a black Amex in movies and tv shows. "No restrictions." Eddie tells the bar tender, "And I'll start with whatever IPA is on tap." He looks back at Chimney, "What'll have Han?" And folds up his fucking Burberry leather wallet before sliding it back into his back pocket.

For those who are not familiar with this fic, please go check the first two chapters of Three Taps for the Lombardi. All other snippets and posts for NFL Buck can be found here. Warning, there are a lot! Hope you enjoyed!

Tagging (no pressure!): @hippolotamus @dangerpronebuddie @daffi-990 @tizniz @rainbow-nerdss

@elvensorceress @monsterrae1 @eddiebabygirldiaz @lonelychicago @spotsandsocks

@diazheartsbuckley @diazsdimples @exhuastedpigeon @cal-daisies-and-briars @watchyourbuck

@glorious-spoon @prosperdemeter2 @bekkachaos @tidesreach @kitteneddiediaz

@eddiestummy @aroeddiediaz @lemonzestywrites @bi-buck-coded @lover-of-mine

@beyourownanchor6 @honestlydarkprincess @bucks-daddy-issues @inell

@pansysgothgf @smilingbuckley

[voiice-of-the-soul]

finally sharing my own personal headcanons for medic. keep in mind this is just my own interpretation of him.

-the story about him yoinking a guy's skeleton is one of the many he tells when someone asks him why he lost his license. he changes it up to a different one every single time and no one really knows which one is true.

-he is an excellent storyteller. he's good with words, has an endless array of things he could speak about and the obvious one, he loves to talk. though most of the stories are pretty morbid and his dark humour does not appeal to most people.

-he has other qualifications besides medicine and science. there was a brief period of time when he worked as a mortician and would harvest the organs of corpses for experiments. shockingly enough, he's also a licensed psychiatrist. nobody believes him though.

-i feel like he would be a good artist. he does very detailed anatomy studies but he also has many little sketches of his doves. it calms his nerves when he gets manic.

-i also think he'd be a big fan of junji ito's work. they have a similiar jovial and goofy nature while simultaneously creating the most horrifying shit.

-he and spy go way back before either of them were hired by mann co. they both fought in wwll as members of a resistance group, which medic joined after fleeing from germany.

-he has low affective empathy but pretty good cognitive empathy. he often words things wrong when attempting to comfort someone but if you brought it to his attention, he'd be like "oh, i never thought of it that way! i apologize!"

-he is generally polite to people as long as they don't undermine him or his work. treat him with respect and he'll extend the same courtesy to you. that being said, he is absolutely not a pushover, as we've seen multiple times. he knows his worth and when someone steps on his tail like cheavy did, he will retaliate tenfold.

-alot of people say he hates children which i do not agree with at all. i think he has a soft spot for them and he secretly always wanted to be a father. his paternal side occassionally comes out when he's interacting with his birds. if he ever had a kid of his own, he would pamper them and carry them around in his arms everywhere.

-another unpopular opinion but i think he is more understanding than people give him credit for. he would try to reassure someone if they were scared to undergo surgery for whatever reason and make jokes in an attempt to ease the tension. he's not always particularly successful at it but it's the thought that counts.

-he is very passionate and feels all of his emotions strongly with little to no inbetween. it's either extreme love or extreme spite.

-he is quite observant and endlessly fascinated by human behaviour. he enjoys interacting with people so he gets to dissect (often quite literally) and pick their brains. though his observations come across as very clinical which unnerves most people.

-i think he is more gentle with women than he is with men. i mean, just look at how he talks to miss pauling.

-he plays up his evilness so people will think he's just a one track mind lunatic. he enjoys catching people by surprise when he gets serious.

-while i personally don't think he would outright hate any animal, i think he gets nervous if a cat is in the vicinity of his birds.

[sophieinwonderland]

I want to start with: people are not their disorders. Disorders are not identities. They are intended for clinicians and insurance companies and for treatment. They are clusters of symptoms. And they are faulty and honestly a poor piss always of describing people. All psychiatric disorders contain overlap. Personality disorders especially contain overlapping symptoms. Rarely does a person exactly fit one PD. Dissociation can be a symptom of PDs. Dissociating is not necessarily indicative of a dissociative disorder. Also, there is nothing wrong with being diagnosed with a PD. It doesn’t mean that person is a bad person. A PD is diagnosed when a person exhibits a pattern of certain behaviors over a long period of time, usually start in adolescence. PDs are often difficult to treat because those diagnosed often do not see any problem with their behavior, and therefore often do not actively try to change. PDs are incredibly sad, for both the person who likely experiences much unhappiness but can’t see why and for those around them.

I imagine that patient’s doctors knew her very well before coming to their diagnosis. It is very possible they observed manipulative behavior in her regularly. She may have believed she had DID as it would have been a convenient excuse to continue her manipulative behaviors. Often, people do not want to take responsibility for their harmful behavior. Could you imagine if everyone could just blame bad behavior on a dissociative disorder? It sounds like she just pointed to the dissociative disorder as an excuse, rather than feeling actual remorse or regret for her actions. Therein lies the difference. Again, does this make her a bad person? No. She clearly had a hard life that shaped her into who she was. However, it is important to diagnose correctly. Treatment changes depending on the diagnosis. Honestly, this is why I personally believe diagnoses should be withheld. Rather than viewing themselves as a whole person, patients may often overly identify with the diagnosis which can also hinder recovery (i.e. getting the patient to a place where they no longer feel the need to use maladaptive coping strategies; more ideally, getting them to a place where they can thrive rather than only survive).

Regardless, that is one anecdote. My point remains that it does happen that one is introduced with the concept of alters and then they suddenly have alters, not because they have DID, but again, because they have high suggestibility, prone to fantasy, etc. And that is ok! That doesn’t make them liars or bad people. It just doesn’t necessarily mean they have DID and therefore treatment used for DID may not be effective for them. More likely they’re young, still figuring out their identity, confused, etc. Clinicians need to be careful when a new client comes in claiming alters as having the wrong diagnosis can, again, hinder recovery, and with DID being all over social media nowadays, this is becoming more common.

I imagine that patient’s doctors knew her very well before coming to their diagnosis.

She had initially been diagnosed with DID.

Then she was sent to the clinic that conducted this study who suspected she didn't have real DID as soon as she was admitted to their department.

Honestly, this is why I personally believe diagnoses should be withheld.

You mean you shouldn't tell the patients what they're diagnosed with?

That's a terrible idea! Just imagine all the patients put on who knows how many different types of medications without being told what the meds are even treating! Unless you just mean for DID specifically, but then why single that out?

However, it is important to diagnose correctly.

I agree. It is very important to diagnose correctly. But the reasoning for her not having DID is weak. By all counts, it sounds like she fit the criteria. If not for DID then at least for OSDD.

Let me put this a different way.

These doctors had a problem. There were lawsuits being filed against psychiatrists for alleged misdiagnoses. To protect themselves and other doctors from such suits, they needed a defense.

They created a theory of "imitated DID" as a solution to this problem. A super hard-to-detect condition where people just enacted the symptoms of DID, that doctors couldn't possibly be held liable for because of how hard it is to detect.

To back up this theory, well, they needed case studies to use as examples. Which meant identifying people to have their made-up condition.

Regardless, that is one anecdote.

It's THE FIRST anecdote. This, and the other case studies presented, were what was used as justification to create Imitated DID as a concept!

Before this paper, there was malingering which was intentionally lying to gain some type of benefit. But there was no real concept of people gaining or imitating DID-like symptoms unconsciously.

In the end, this alleged condition of "imitated DID" has no scientific basis. The theory is not driven by science, but money. It was made up to protect doctors from legal liability.

My point remains that it does happen that one is introduced with the concept of alters and then they suddenly have alters, not because they have DID, but again, because they have high suggestibility, prone to fantasy, etc.

And my point is that evidence for this claim is lacking.

Many people don't just form alters after learning that DID exists. But sure, when people learn about plurality, if they are already plural, there is a tendency for them to realize that they already had headmates afterwards. But those headmates didn't just come into existence. It's just that the system didn't have words to describe their experiences before.

I will give you that, because of rampant system medicalism, many of these may be non-disordered systems will wrongfully self-diagnose as disordered systems. This is a reason we need more education on systems of all kinds.

But that's still not imitated DID. It's not created to copy DID experiences. They're just using the closest thing they know about to define the experience of being multiple that they already have.

Clinicians need to be careful when a new client comes in claiming alters as having the wrong diagnosis can, again, hinder recovery, and with DID being all over social media nowadays, this is becoming more common.

And yet, false diagnosis of DID is a non-issue. In a later study, Suzette Boon, who invented the concept of imitated DID, discussed how only 6 out of the 85 patients in that study were misdiagnosed with DID. In the same paper, she mentions how other studies have shown 26-40% of DID patients will be diagnosed with schizophrenia long before they get a correct diagnosis of DID. And that's just schizophrenia alone, never mind other psychotic disorders, BPD and similar disorders that are often confused with DID.

There is no epidemic of people getting falsely diagnosed with DID.

But there is an epidemic of people with DID and other dissociative disorders being wrongfully diagnosed with other conditions.

Why then, aren't we calling for clinicians to show the same care when diagnosing schizophrenia that we are with them diagnosing DID?

Oh wait, I just thought of 16 billion reasons.

[autisticlenaluthor]

Twilight

Lena often thinks her real life is somewhere else far away. Sure, physically, she exists in her body. She can see and touch and experience all the other senses that supposedly make her whole. But for as long as she can remember, she’s had the strongest feeling that the real Lena is out there somewhere else. And while this one watches the rest of the world through her glass box and foggy goggles, the woman she’s supposed to be thrives in another existence. Maybe even another timeline. 

This other life isn’t something Lena looks for– it isn’t something that can be revealed through tireless searching. When Lena tries, it only seems to grow further away.

So she chooses to believe that one day, they will step into each other and the box will break. She’ll become real and whole, and the fog will be gone and her new life will start. The life she’s always been meant to have. 

In the bleak hours of twilight, Lena finds herself the closest she’s ever been to shattering that barrier.

In high school, Lena used to tell herself that longer she stayed awake, the longer it would take for the next day to come. She needed to savor the times that weren’t consumed by the energy it took to mask at school or locked in the upstairs bathroom to avoid Lillian’s resentment. And that could only happen when the rest of the world was asleep.

Night was her safe haven.

Darkness expects nothing of no one. She didn't have to be presentable or restrained she could just... be.

At night, the requirements that had been forced upon her since the ripe age of four are momentarily lifted because nobody’s that put together when it’s three in the morning and they haven’t slept in almost as many days.

Sleep, on the other hand, felt like pressing fast forward on existence. 

Lena’s head would hit the pillow and in an instant, the cycle would start back up again. 

She’d wake up. Get dressed. Get coffee. Go to school. Skip lunch to complete homework. Study during her free period. Get ahead on extra credit during study hall. Stay late for chess club Wednesdays and Fridays. Stay late for fencing on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Go home and hope the mansion would be empty when she arrived. Drink more coffee. Study for upcoming exams. Eat dinner (or not). Work on college essays. Even more coffee. Brush teeth. Sleep. Repeat.

The cycle couldn’t be broken but the beginning of a new day could be prolonged. And at sixteen-years-old with no real freedom, time was the most finite resource Lena had. 

The night was Lena’s out and it was embarrassingly easy to become addicted to it’s reprive. 

Lena’s late nights transitioned from her childhood bedroom, to her university dorm, to her first apartment, to the hotel she lives out of in National City for three months. Eventually, they land in the basement of L Corp, where her favorite place in the entire world sits – her personal lab.

Lena spends more hours down there than she can count.

She does everything from experimentation on different substances to developing plans for high tech militant weapons. She picks apart and studies Lex’s old devices and spitefully finds ways to improve them (oh, how he would hate if he knew his little sister had been the one to fix the flaws he hadn’t accounted for).

Some nights she even finds herself going back to her Metropolis roots of trying to cure cancer out of a garage with Jack Spheer. She reads through medical journals when she’s looking for more mental stimulation than physical, and writes up lists of her own hypotheses and ideas. Clinical trials could be built around her midnight endeavors, if Lena would ever let anyone read her work. 

At night, Lena thrives. She gets so close to this other world that at times, she thinks if she pushed just a little harder, she’d finally be able to break the seal.

But then there are the nights where it’s never felt further away. 

Those nights come after soul sucking days where Lena spends every minute forced to be on. They come from masking more than she can handle, until she feels like she might physically burst from the tension. They leave her feeling like a shell of herself, like her capacity for being alive has dropped to zero. 

Lena only tries to explain it once. Sam can tell something’s wrong so Lena does the thing most unlike herself and confides in her. It’s the only time she ever says it out loud.

Really, Lena doesn’t know what she was expecting– maybe reassurance that her struggle is real and that her burn out is enough. But instead, Sam tells her she gets it. She gets exhausted too from the long days and crashes hard after sitting in a board room with executives and other titles for hours on end. 

It’s in good faith but it makes Lena feel even worse. Because she doesn’t get it– not really. Sam may struggle, but Lena is autistic. She’s speech loss and shut down, ugly stimming, and violent meltdowns autistic. She's 'can only eat five foods because of ARFID', prolonged burn out, sleep deprived, and insomniac autistic. 

And god, there’s nothing more isolating than knowing that no matter how hard they try, her friends will never be able to ‘get it’ when she tells them she’s having a hard time. 

Those are the nights where to Lena, doing anything substantial feels entirely inconceivable. But the routine can’t be broken. So she stops by Noonans for an iced coffee and safe food dinner of Uncrustables that she can eat on the laboratory floor. Because sometimes all it takes to feel okay is to be surrounded by her special interests, even if she can’t interact with them. 

She's tapping her fingers, trying to block out the sound of the buzzing overhead lights, when she finds Kara standing in the pick-up spot parallel to her. Lena isn’t sure what time it is but the sky outside is black and the coffee shop is empty. All she knows is t's way too late for Kara "It starts at 10? That's when I go to bed" Danvers.

Kara smiles when she spots her. 

“Hey! What are you doing here? I thought all the big CEOs sent their assistants out for coffee runs,” she jokes. 

For a split second, Lena manages to smile back at her. It's small and fleeting but it's there. Her first real one in days.

“I sent Jess home hours ago,” she replies. “It wouldn’t be fair to subject her to my all-nighters.” 

Lena pauses when the barista approaches the counter to hand Kara her drink. 

“Why are you still up?” She asks after a moment. “Snapper torturing you again?”  

Kara shrugs and gives a light laugh

 “No, Snapper’s been surprisingly okay recently. I just stayed late to finish some stuff up. I’m done now but I wanted to get myself a little reward.”  

She sips at her drink, grinning when she sees Lena’s confused expression. 

“It’s hot chocolate– no caffeine for me.”

Lena hums. Before she can say anything else, her large iced black coffee is placed on the counter in front of her. Her cheeks flush red and for whatever reason, all she can feel is pure shame at the sight of it. 

This isn’t normal. She isn’t normal. And there’s no way Kara doesn’t feel it too.

But Kara doesn’t judge. She doesn’t chastise Lena’s choices or go on about how it’s so unhealthy to have caffeine so late and how she should know better by now.

Instead, she says “are you going back to the office? I can walk with you.” 

Of course, Lena accepts.

They walk together in silence. It doesn’t feel awkward– there isn’t an expectation to fill the gaps. It’s just the two of them. They’re side by side and in that moment, neither of them need anything more. 

When they arrive at L Corp, Lena brings Kara inside with her.

They skip security and stop at the elevator. Lena pulls out her ID card but she doesn’t scan it. She looks at Kara and shifts her weight between her heels.

“Would you like to come down with me?” She asks. 

“Down?” 

“My lab… it’s in the basement.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to. I wouldn’t put you to work or anything– I was just going to sit on the floor and have dinner. If you’d like to do that with me.” 

Kara can’t help but chuckle at Lena’s phrasing. Her best friend, who can’t touch the buttons on public elevators without putting a tissue over her thumb, relaxes by eating her dinner on the basement floor.

The contrast is stark yet endearing. And as strange as it sounds, Kara cant think of a better way to spend her night. 

They spend the next hour sitting in a corner, backs up against the wall, eating grape uncrustables, vending machine chips, and Oreos. Kara tells Lena about her day, making sure she knows she doesn’t have to respond if she isn’t up to speaking. And as they drink their respective beverages, Kara goes on about how incredible Lena’s lab is– how nice it was of her to share it.  

It feels good. It feels calming. Lena’s surrounded by her favorite things, eating her safe foods, with her best friend, who upholds none of the social barriers she struggles with so much.

By the time they’re done– it’s nearly two in the morning.

“Gosh, I’m tired,” Kara says, smiling dreamily. She yawns and looks over at Lena. “Are you?” 

Lena just shrugs. She is. She always is. But right now, the last place she wants to be is her empty penthouse. 

“We both need sleep,” Kara adds. She slouches into the wall and sighs. “But my loft is so far. And I don’t want to leave you. Why is everything so unfair?” 

Softly, Lena laughs. 

“You could come to my place,” she suggests, her voice small and apprehensive. “If you’d like. I- I think it would be nice to… not be alone for a bit.” 

“Really?” Kara asks. 

Lena nods. “Really.”

"I'd love that!"

Lena smiles. For the first time in years, the thought of going to sleep doesn't feel all that daunting.

[espresseo-cafe]

life is still beautiful | johnny | ch.8

genre: cappucino, romance, angst, university!au, dad!au, drama, slice of life

pairing: collegestudent!johnny x fem!reader

bean count: 3.1k+

a/n: this has a crossover with @jae-canikeepyou ‘s series serenity in us 🤭 read that if you like, you’d love it 🤗 so now i’m back from hiatus! enjoy your coffee time 💚 note: this is only a work of fiction, it doesn’t reflect the artists’ personalities in any way.

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“how are you coping?” was one of the last messages johnny had sent you. after your breakdown and asthma attack, he didn’t send you any more, just short ones as he was planning his baby thesis together with kun on psychology. he also had to do his paediatric studies on saturdays.

besides, you guys were entering to your final year very soon.

you decided to give him space, you as well needed to catch up with your own (being at the library at the moment)- even though it was stressful enough to have your parents by the ends of your hair strands most of your life. it was habitual, you guessed.

it was also ironic because even though you dislike shoving your face in books and research papers, you found yourself kind of listening to their orders of studying hard.

but you soon realised you were doing this for yourself, not for them.

somehow you wished you never agreed to meet them that day. you just ended up disappointed and hurt like you always had.

your phone rang when you just quickly put it down, receiving mean glares and shushes from the people around the table. taking your stuff and shoving them in your bag, you ran out of the library and called back the person who conveniently decided to embarass you.

“you just love to distract me, do you, johnny?” placing your phone between your ear and shoulder, fixing the heel of your socks.

a soft chuckle heard from the other line, a voice you kinda want to hear. “because i know you will be. want to go for coffee? i finished my project so i can meet you at the atrium.”

“please, i got homework to finish.” you dramatically told him, turning to your left then walking down the stairs.

“hm, interesting.” he hummed, “if you got homework to finish then why did you change your path down the stairs?”

you halted as you almost set foot to the atrium’s entrance. looking up, he was there by the railings.

“i see i got a stalker.”

“the one and only.” johnny smiled and waved at you from the balcony before going down the stairs to meet you.

placing your phone in your pocket when he stood in front of you, you laughed, “dear me, do i need to call the police?”

he wrapped his arms around your shoulder, “please don’t. besides you owe me coffee, it’s been a week.”

you slapped his chest lightly. what’s with him and coffee? “dude that’s what you’ve been wanting to do? don’t you have cash?”

“i spent it on youngmin’s medicine. little dude can’t keep still, always running around until he caught fever. but he does get regular check-ups.” he sighed, “medicine should be free, especially for kids.”

as you walked to the coffee shop at the next street, you concluded that maybe it was why johnny took paediatrics, to monitor youngmin’s health.

johnny was on his final year of his double degree in psychology and paediatric studies, so his schedules were going to be busy. an idea came up to your mind. “say, why don’t i take him to the clinic for his checkup appointments? so you could focus on your studies.”

johnny’s slightly tired face lit up, “really? you can do that?” you nodded as you both entered the coffee shop, “that’s great, it’ll be a huge help.” looking at the drinks menu, he hummed. “you know what, drinks are on me today, i’m suddenly in a good mood.”

you giggled when he took out a five dollar bill on his hand, “so you can treat me coffee on days i take him for appointments, deal?”

“deal-“ johnny flicked his head to you, “-wait!”his hand got freed of cash when you took the bill and jogged to the counter. he stifled a laugh seeing you already pointing at your desired drink, smiling endearingly at you until you turned to him.

“johnny, come on here and choose yours!” gesturing for him to come closer, “they’ve got an offer of buy one get one free.”

little did you two know, you didn’t notice the presence of both rowoon and seungcheol seated at the very end of the coffee shop. rowoon thought that seungcheol’s little crush on you was too obvious. he wondered why after all this time, the guy never seemed to talk to you.

“for a jock like you, you’re someone who’s actually soft for the girl you like.” he munched on the scone he bought, seungcheol then shaking his thoughts off of his mind.

“so what do you want me to do?” the doe eyed asked, taking a sip from his latte.

rowoon smirked, checking a piece of a paper slip before giving it to seungcheol. “nothing actually. you can stay put for now, but hold onto this.”

“if this gets us into trouble, rowoon, you’ll know what you’ll get.” seungcheol warned him, taking the envelope from him as the boy stood up to leave.

“don’t worry, hyung. we got this.”

——

“no way! how come i just heard of this?” yoohyeon told you through the small screen, while you ate on ramyeon bought from the convenient store. she tutted her lips together, “hey y/n, is that all what you’ve been eating since i was gone for almost three weeks?”

“it’s my cheat day.” you slurped, wiping off excess soup from your cheek. “i’ve been studying my brain off, i need to de-stress somehow.”

yoohyeon whined playfully, “i want to de-stress too! the expectations here in paris is as high as the eiffel tower. but anyway, answer my question. so it’s still on the rocks with your parents?”

you hummed, not sure how to answer that just yet. “yeah definitely, can’t believe i’ve been stood up at the dinner.. well it’s not like it never happened to me.”

“well isn’t that great? there’s progress!” she sarcastically said because she knew how your relationship was with your parents. she then squinted her eyes. “then what about you and johnny? any progress in that?”

you coughed on a piece of noodle. “t-that, i don’t know. i heard he had an argument with his ex after youngmin’s party.”

“minji? after so long?” she questioned. “well, i hope she doesn’t give him a hard time. the guy’s moved on, given that his attention is so focused on you.”

you laughed a little, “who’s to say, it’s a little crush i have for him. there’s a fine line between falling in love and having a crush, you know? maybe it’s just admiration on my part. but him to me? i doubt it.” you felt a shuffle on the side as you placed the ramyeon on the table behind you, making yoohyeon tilt her head in question.

“did you get a puppy, y/n?”

“a cute one, actually.” shifting your phone for her to see clearly, youngmin snuggled next to you.

“oh, my, word.” she said dramatically, “you’re a certified mommy candidate for the little one. i’ve never seen him so close to anyone like that. johnny must love you to the point he trusted his son to you.”

“a: he doesn’t love me, and b: i offered to help him, alright? we’re not even gonna go there.” you shook your head, combing youngmin’s hair as he slept.

yoohyeon took a snap of that, sending it to johnny immediately. “oh isn’t it time for you to bring him to his appointment? it’s almost 1pm.”

“yes and you’ll be late for class.” you reminded her, “make me proud, yoohyeon. i helped you with your thesis, don’t put it waste.”

hearing you say that made her laugh so early in the morning. “it’s 6am here but roger that, momma!~” waving a goodbye before signing off.

you turned your phone off, putting your legs off of the sofa. then youngmin woke up and wiped his eyes, “mama i’m warm.”

you flicked your head to the boy, chuckling and patting his cheek. “it’s auntie y/n, youngmin.” he sat up and yawned, asking for a hug and you carried him, soon taking your leave to the clinic. “you’re going to get better.”

the little toddler was tired the whole time, and that worried you. wearing the carrier, you placed him facing you while he slept once more. the cooling patch on his forehead wasn’t doing any good to put his temperature down. he actually cried quite a bit on the way so you put a dummy on him, and thankfully he didn’t cause too much of a scene on the train.

stepping in the clinic, you suddenly saw your long time friend, jungkook. his eye smile never failed to be so contagious. “ah noona! you’re here again?”

“yeah, i need to be here for this little one. my friend’s son.” you ruffled his hair, and jungkook poked his cheek.

“he’s adorable! oh and guess what? i’m assisting the renowned dr. jung yunho tomorrow, i just finished meeting up with him.” his bunny smile showing.

you gave him a high-five, you were really proud of him. “nice on you sophomore, it’s gonna look good on your resume once you do your residency and fellowship.”

jungkook just scratched his head, blushing red. “it’s still a long ways to go, noona.” checking his watch, he gasped at the time. “and i don’t want to be late. catch up soon?”

you nodded and gave him a wave, “sure.”

the reception was close by and you confirmed youngmin’s booking. the nurse had to double check if you were the parent, and you clarified that you were substituting the child’s father, who couldn’t make it in the scheduled appointments and showed her the documents with johnny’s signature.

“i actually thought you were the mother. because mr. suh comes here alone often, other than the grandparents. so i got my hopes up when i recognised youngmin with a young lady. sorry about that.” she noted, giving you an apologetic smile.

“it’s not a problem, i haven’t met the mother as well so i guess we’re on the same page.” you smiled a bit, and took a pen from your bag, signing the check-in sheet.

“oh excuse me miss, you dropped something.” one intern next to the nurse pointed down while you muttered a thank you.

it was the extra coupon you had from all the coffee breaks you had with johnny. maybe i should use this later. so you placed it back again to use it again. slowly standing up, you removed youngmin from the carrier while the nurse took him in for a little check up before the actual appointment with dr. yunho.

“miss y/n!” you heard a little squeal, and it was one that you recognised so well. “long time no see!”

“hi liam!” you bent down to have a short chat. “are you here for a check up with the doctor?”

the kindergartener nodded quickly like he was so proud of it. “yes, i got a scratch on my face and on my leg because i fell.” you told him to be careful and he just pouted, saying that he would. he turned around to lady who called him, saying that they had to leave.

at the same time, you were called in by dr. yunho. you patted his hair and bid him goodbye. standing up, you were faced with a lady, who was around your age. must be liam’s mother.. you thought. but who were you to judge?

liam jumped as he left the hospital, whining that he was hungry. “can we go to mcdonald’s, auntie minji?”

she held his tiny hand, “of course, you did really well at the checkup.”

“then can you carry me there, please?” he pleaded, making puppy eyes to convince her, only for her to disagree.

“no can do, liam.” she poked his little nose and teased him. “you know auntie isn’t that strong like a superhero.”

after youngmin’s checkup, you were thankful that he didn’t need to be confined in the hospital. on the other hand, you were so dazzled by dr. yunho, how could someone be so handsome and smart at the same time? it was funny how he opened up so quickly, even mentioning that he had brothers who went to the same university as you- currently year one and year four. it didn’t feel like an appointment at all because of how he conversed.

youngmin seemed to have gotten used to being at the doctor’s, after the fact johnny told you that he used to cry a lot about it. and speaking of him, you got a call, just in time.

“hey y/n, i’m on my way there with bosco, we’ll drop him off at mom and dad’s first, then i owe you coffee again, is it the third time this month? anyway see you both in five minutes.”

you lit up, “sure, we’ll wait here.”

it took about five minutes for him to arrive. talk about consistency: another box ticked on your checklist. he came out of the car to help carry youngmin, while you got on after.

the nurses who saw this from the clinic had their hearts swooned in various places. johnny was young but the way he handled everything made him so mature.

“daddy material..” the intern’s eyes twinkled while she clasped her hands together.

“get back to work, rookie.” the nurse sighed.

“what? you were staring at him too, hypocrite.” she pouted.

as youngmin rested at his grandparents’ place, you and johnny made your way to the coffee shop. patters of rain drummed the windows and johnny sighed when he looked above. “i swear this is like the worse summer ever, it’s been raining for days.”

“can’t help it though. it was scorching hot as well. besides, fall is on the way, in a few weeks?” you stretched your neck and your back from side to side. the feeling of cracked bones was such a relief that johnny glimpsed at you back and forth and scrunched his face.

“sorry, you must’ve been tired from bringing youngmin to the clinic for three weeks.” he stopped the vehicle at the red light.

“it’s okay, it’s workout for me to carry him.” you snickered. as you said that, the rain gradually grew a bit stronger. so you looked up as well, and you didn’t like how it reminded you of the past.

it used to be about your parents, it still was, besides text messages you hadn’t heard any apologies from them at all. and that upsetted you.

another thing was the accident, you haven’t even came into terms with it. you still remembered the impact, the screeches from its tires, the way you flew, and the way you thought everything gone in a blink. it felt like it was yesterday.

johnny knew at one look that you were still processing everything that happened. it was something he wanted to help you overcome but he also knew it was a long journey and that it doesn’t just disappear overnight.

so an idea came up to him, he hoped you were up for it, and he hoped he was right. you felt the vehicle turn sharply to a corner. johnny turned the engine off, “y/n, let’s go out right now.”

your raised eyebrow made him want to laugh but he knew you would love this. “um, are you crazy? it’s raining cats and dogs outside, johnny.”

he just grinned at you. “i maybe am. but with a little bit of play in the cold of ‘cat and dog’ rain, you might just be crazy with me.” he got off the car and ran into the rain, hollering and spinning around.

your eyes widened, frantically turning your head around to check if people noticed him. reaching for the handle, you stared at the rain once more, hands shaking anxiously. should you go out once again?

“awooo!” johnny continued to shout and laugh. you stared at him deadpan, this was embarrassing.

you sighed, “johnny!” the secondhand embarassment you got from him was unbelievable. you ran towards him and stopped him from whatever he was doing. “what are you doing?”

“oh? the puppy chased me and stopped me.” he laughed and you just blinked your eyes in confusion. “cats.. dogs.. rain..? you and me? don’t you get it?”

“johnny, cats don’t howl.” you crossed your arms, finally getting what he meant. “let’s go, before we get sick.”

he didn’t say anything and pulled your arm, “i know you hate the rain but…” he trailed off, taking two pairs of airpods. putting one pair to your ears before he put another into his, he played one of coldplay’s biggest hits, and the song that calmed you down- a sky full of stars.

“let’s have some fun.”

the piano melody and the vocals filled the intro, johnny’s head started to follow the beat and sang. and naturally you followed, singing as well. the familiar music slowly building up. when it reached to the one minute and eighteenth mark, as if you and johnny shared the same braincells, started to jump in the rain.

he held your hand and twirled you around, then suddenly doing a crumping move on this medium-paced song, made you laugh. you’d say it out loud that johnny was a good dancer. it even showed when the next song- adventure of a lifetime, was next in queue.

that was where you confirmed he was groovy, pulling a little genre of modern swing. not that you knew how to do that certain dance pairing, but the music and johnny’s energy just made you dance with the flow.

his guided his hands to yours, leading you with his twists and turns. and in parts were the music were on a slight drop, he led you to follow him on certain easy steps.

you also had your share in adding steps and iconic movements, putting a little michael jackson moonwalk in it. johnny pointed at you in surprise, even in earphones, you could hear his laugh.

johnny and yourself probably looked like idiots dancing in the rain on the road towards the highway. but to the both of you, it was special, as you were dealing with heartbreaks in different aspects. music was definitely a de-stresser.

johnny looked at you with admiration. as you danced away in the rain, he felt like he was witnessing something beautiful. though the music was playing, he could hear his heart beating. and his eyes widened when the lyrics mirrored what he was feeling:

“now i feel my heart beating, i feel my heart underneath my skin, oh, you make me feel like i’m alive again.”

he smiled endearingly, he knew he was so attracted to you. he knew you had space in his heart, and he’d gladly give it to you.

you turned around, hair flicking slowly, then your eyes met.

and it was when he realised fully,

that he was starting to fall in love with you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

taglist: @titanmaknae29 @joepomonerof @lovesuhng @studyingthemind @cheyehc @kyeomooniee @geysuuuuh @mrkleelvr

[madohomo]

its my golden bday babyy i am 29 on the 29th today

life updates under the cut!!

i feel like my lifes been going 1000mph for a while now but some notable moments

- i got my masters degree and it was the hardest thing ive ever done honestly i didn't think i was gonna make it but my degree is in applied biosciences!! im v passionate abt a lot of science research so im excited to see where that takes me.

- im a homeowner now !! living w my 3 siblings and splitting a mortgage and its honestly so nice. the house so lovely and ive been through so much roommate hell in the past decade so its been nice to have housing security and ppl i can count on. house is kind of a zoo with so many animals though (2 cats, cockatiel, snake, axolotl, fish & coral) but we make it work

- I'm still working in clinical research as a coordinator on the only NIH funded long covid trial and it's been kind of brutal. not just because of the topic and the study itself being all over the fucking place, but they recently fucked me over financially and now I'm pretty much stuck working there until at least early next year.. but it does feel cool to contribute to such important research that is going to affect millions of people! I've been working on covid studies since summer of 2020 on both treatments and vaccines and now long covid. so I'm pretty burnt out but grateful that I've learned so much about how to protect myself and my loved ones because I'm pretty much the only person I know that still hasn't gotten covid yet. please PLEASE continue to mask, most importantly protect your face holes, and care for each other because everything we know so far is so horrific and we still have very little in terms of treatment options. the future is really looking so grim tbh.

- since October of last year I've been pretty involved in local organizing centered around Palestine. since then and especially during the international call for encampments I've really gotten to know a lot of amazing people who inspire me and remind me that a better world really is possible and we can really fucking build it ourselves. I feel like I've spent a really large portion of my twenties grieving my future because of climate catastrophe and endless war. but for the first time I feel safe and hopeful. I really encourage everyone to connect with your local organizations, meet people and get involved because getting connected and organized is really the only solution to every problem we face and if you're like me and feel existential dread on the daily, this is the best solution.

- and speaking of the friends and comrades we met along the way... I just want to talk about how much I love my friends and the people around me because I would have never made it to 29 without you. I love my local sapphic squad That makes that drained social battery go back to being full. and I love love all my out-of-state friends who continue to talk to me and want to be in my life still despite the distance!! I'm literally flying out tomorrow and seeing East Coast friends I started hanging out with during Homestuck days back in 2013 and now 11 years later. we're still planning shit together.

[pinkestlittlebutterfly]

Servamp hospital AU with no plot only vibes but I do the rest of the cast too so everyone can suffer:

Iduna – Clinical engineer. Though her responsibilities are mostly limited to testing, maintaining and occasionally doing small repairs on the medical equipment, she always looks at the machines in her care like she’s itching to do more. She’s vastly overqualified for her position, but left what would be any other engineer’s dream job at a well-known medical manufacturer to take it, for unknown reasons. 

Freya – The resident pharmacist. She wouldn’t usually have much contact with patients, but sometimes exasperated nurses will ask her to explain how some patient’s medication works to them, counting on her fierce glare to hammer the message home. She’s precise in her work but not opposed to chaos, as evident by how much time she spends watching Iduna come up with creative ways to test the surgery robots. 

Licht – Paramedic, stoic in even the most stressful situations. Though one wouldn’t think of him as good with people, the confidence he has in everything he does is a pillar of comfort to those he treats as well as his team. Some people think he developed a bit of a complex, saving people’s lives on a daily basis, but Hyde assures them he’s always been like that. He rarely starts fights (with those who aren't Hyde) but will end them.

Hyde – Paramedic. Whether he’s well-suited for his profession is up for debate, as stress makes him act out easily when in the wrong mood. He put himself on a team with Licht, and for a long time any emergency doctor made to work with them would groan at the thought of their squabbling. Recently they have gotten along better, and Hyde’s stress tolerance seems to have improved. 

Niccolo – Emergency doctor, originally an internist. Though he spends most of his time looking like he’ll fall apart at even the suggestion of stress, he changes completely once in an actual life-or-death situation and will easily take charge of his team. He’s happy in his job, and it’s a step up from working in the hospital itself, which was the actual cause of his stress. 

Ildio – ER nurse. Though he seems to be a perfect fit for his job – fiercely caring but looking rough enough to nip any problematic behaviour in the bud – it’s actually just what he first fell into when completing his training. Recently the emergency doctor he spends his breaks with has encouraged him to find something he actually enjoys doing, and he has been looking to become a NICU nurse. 

Krantz – Professional translator, working wherever a bridge between the staff and one of their patients needs to be built, and is thus always busy. No one knows how many languages he actually speaks. His most impressive achievement in bridge-building is getting paramedics Licht and Hyde to form a somewhat cohesive unit, to a point where their long-suffering ambulance driver has him on speed dial.

Johannes – Haematologist. He is obsessed with his work and spends a decidedly unhealthy amount of hours in the lab, living off strange concoctions presumably containing lots of caffeine and lots of sugar. Though he's not supposed to collect his samples himself, he does so with great joy. Few of the studies he proposes make it past the ethics committee.

Gear – Lab tech. The quiet world of the lab suits him, and he’s well adapted to the traditions and mindsets of those who live within it, though they tend to come off as bizarre to others. He spends his downtime scouring catalogues for the latest lab equipment, and sometimes brings some of it home to decorate the house with. His husband Youtarou seems strangely okay with this.

Youtarou – Social media manager. Most people think of his job as useless, but he thinks it's important for patients and even more so potential recruits to have a friendly face to associate the hospital with. His favourite part of the job is working with Iduna, who in turn loves the opportunity to make the surgery robots do something funny for a cute video.

[muiitoloko]

Hey, can I place an order? I saw that you've just started writing about Alan Rickman and I was wondering if you could write something in which the Reader dies of some incurable disease and, years later, Alan dies too? Ignore this if it's a strange request.

Author's Notes: Normally I wouldn't write something like this about a real person, but I spent days reading this request and finally decided to write it, and I apologize to anyone who felt offended in any way.

Title: Sun and Rain

Summary: Alan hates the contrast between their deaths, he tries to fight it, but it's a losing battle.

Pairing: Alan Rickman × fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Death, Nosebleed, illnesses

Word Count: 2918

Alan ate in silence, savoring the breakfast you had prepared. The air was charged with unspoken tension, a stark contrast to the playful atmosphere of the previous night. As You exchanged occasional glances, the weight of the unknown lingered.

Suddenly, Alan's fork clattered against the plate, and he looked at you with concern etched across his face. He noticed a trickle of blood running from your nose. "Love, you're bleeding," he exclaimed, his voice filled with worry.

You, composed but slightly surprised, reached for a napkin and pressed it against your nose. You excused yourself from the table, heading towards the bathroom, and Alan, propelled by concern, followed closely behind.

In the bathroom, you washed off the blood, your reflection in the mirror betraying the gravity of the situation. Alan hovered over you, his eyes searching yours for answers. "Are you okay? Does your head hurt? Are you feeling any pain?"

You, meeting his gaze, shook your head. "No, Alan. I don't feel any pain. It's just a nosebleed, probably from the dry air or stress."

Alan's brows furrowed, unconvinced. "But, love, this could be a symptom. We can't ignore it. We should go to the hospital, get you checked out."

You, facing the mirror, met your own gaze, a reflection of resignation. "Alan, there's no need. The doctors can't do anything. You know there's no cure. It's just a matter of time."

Alan, unable to accept the harsh reality, started making plans. "Maybe there's a new treatment, an experimental trial. We should explore all options."

You, facing the mirror, met your own gaze, a reflection of resignation. "Alan, there's no need. The doctors can't do anything. You know there's no cure. It's just a matter of time."

Alan, feeling a surge of helplessness, reluctantly nodded. The room echoed with the weight of your shared grief, a silent acknowledgment of the impending end.

But Alan could no longer sit and wait, so he secretly, over the next few days, called different doctors, did research on the Internet, and no matter what he did, he found nothing, no cure.

In his study, surrounded by the dim glow of the computer screen, Alan delved into the depths of medical journals, clinical trials, and forums seeking a glimmer of hope. The rhythmic clicking of keys echoed through the room as he tirelessly pursued any information that could alter your fate.

Late at night, with you asleep in the adjacent room, Alan sat alone, grappling with the harsh reality that every avenue he explored led to the same conclusion – there was no cure for your condition. His baritone voice whispered words of desperation, "There has to be something, anything that can save you."

Frustration and helplessness fueled his relentless pursuit, but the internet offered no solace. Each night, as the clock ticked away, Alan found himself immersed in a sea of medical jargon, clinical trials, and experimental treatments, all of which failed to promise the miracle he desperately sought.

With weary eyes, he stared at the screen, realizing that even his baritone voice couldn't command a solution where none existed. You, blissfully unaware of his nocturnal endeavors, slept peacefully, the weight of your shared fate temporarily lifted from your shoulders.

Days turned into nights, and Alan's pursuit of a cure became a solitary battle fought in the dim glow of the computer screen. His voice, once filled with certainty on the stage, now wavered with uncertainty as he muttered to himself, "There has to be something, a breakthrough, a miracle..."

The room, once filled with the echoes of Shakespearean verses, now bore witness to Alan's silent struggle against an adversary more formidable than any role he had portrayed. His deep, deliberate thoughts couldn't unravel the mystery of a disease that had no mercy, no remorse.

As he exhausted every conceivable avenue, Alan realized the futility of his efforts. The research, the late-night calls to specialists, the clandestine meetings with experts – all led to the same heartbreaking conclusion. There was no cure for your condition.

One evening, as Alan sat alone in the darkness of his study, his baritone voice broke the heavy silence, "I can't save you. I can't change the inevitable." The weight of those words hung in the air, a painful acknowledgment of his limitations.

In the quiet hours before dawn, Alan slipped into the bedroom, where you peacefully slept, unaware of the turmoil that consumed your husband. He gazed at you, the lines of worry etched on his face, and whispered, "I'm sorry, my love. I tried everything."

The room, dimly lit by the soft glow of moonlight, held the echo of Alan's silent confession. The realization that no amount of research, no whispered pleas to the darkness, could alter the course of your tragic journey settled into his weary heart.

In those quiet moments, as you faced the inevitable, Alan's baritone voice found solace in whispered words of love and comfort. The room, steeped in shared memories and sorrow, became a sanctuary once more, offering fleeting moments of peace amidst the storm of impending farewells.

As the days passed, Alan continued to care for you with unwavering devotion, but the specter of impending loss loomed over you. The room, once a sanctuary for your love, now bore witness to the fragility of life and the inevitability of goodbyes.

As Alan faced the harsh reality of your impending departure, he decided to cherish every moment you had left together. Determined to create new memories, he orchestrated romantic dinners, showered You with gestures of love, danced under the moonlight, cooked together, and embraced the intimate moments that made your connection unique.

Despite the looming sadness that lingered in his heart, Alan poured his soul into making your remaining time special. As you lay side by side in your backyard, gazing at the stars, he couldn't contain the whisper of vulnerability that escaped his lips.

"My love," Alan began, his baritone voice a soft murmur, "are you scared? Of... of what's to come?"

You, tired but willing to share your truth, took a moment before responding. "I'm not scared of dying, Al. My biggest fear is leaving you behind. You're my world, and the thought of not being by your side is what truly scares me."

Alan, fighting back the tears that threatened to surface, wanted to delve deeper into your fears, but you interrupted gently, "I'm really tired tonight, Alan. Let's just enjoy this moment together, okay?"

Nodding in understanding, Alan placed a tender kiss on your forehead. "Of course, my love. Sleep now. I'll be right here when you wake up."

As you slept, Alan clung to you, holding you close in your shared cocoon of warmth beneath the blanket. Both nestled in your sleeping bags, your breaths harmonized in the quiet of the night, creating a delicate lullaby that momentarily eased the weight of your reality.

When morning arrived, and the first rays of sunlight painted the backyard, Alan gently attempted to wake you. He whispered your name, softly shook your shoulders, and called to you with increasing urgency. But you, serene in your eternal slumber, remained unresponsive.

Panic seized Alan as he tried everything in his power to rouse you. He shook you more vigorously, called your name with desperation, and pleaded with you to wake up. However, you, caught in the grasp of an unyielding silence, refused to open your eyes.

Despite his efforts, your peaceful repose persisted, untouched by the outside world. Alan, in the throes of disbelief and sorrow, cradled you in his arms, tears streaming down his face.

"No, no, wake up," Alan pleaded, his baritone voice carrying a tone of desperation that echoed through the backyard. He clung to you, shaking you gently as if to dispel the cruel reality unfolding before him.

"Baby, please," he implored, his voice a heart-wrenching whisper. "This can't be happening. You can't leave me like this."

He called for an ambulance, his voice trembling as he explained the situation, the operator's words blurred by the overwhelming grief that gripped him. As he hung up, reality crashed down upon him, and he wailed in anguish.

Clinging to your lifeless form, Alan's cries reverberated through the backyard, a raw expression of the pain that threatened to consume him. In those agonizing moments, he grappled with the stark truth that you, his love and anchor, would never open your eyes again.

As he cradled your lifeless body, the backyard bore witness to the profound loss that echoed through its walls. Alan, his baritone voice reduced to desperate sobs, kissed your forehead one last time, the weight of your absence settling into the depths of his soul.

The grass beneath them seemed indifferent to the tragedy that unfolded, and Alan couldn't help but feel a profound sense of injustice. The sky stretched above them, a canvas of serene blue, completely at odds with the storm raging within him.

"It's not right," Alan whispered to himself, his baritone voice trembling with grief. "The sky should mourn you, and the world should feel the weight of this loss."

He looked up at the beautiful sky, an ache in his chest as he wished for a torrential downpour, a dramatic reflection of the turmoil in his soul. The unfair contrast between nature's calm and your departure intensified his sense of isolation.

As he stood there, lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the arrival of the ambulance. The paramedics approached him, their faces a mixture of sympathy and professionalism. They gently took you from his arms, their actions mechanical against the backdrop of Alan's overwhelming sorrow.

The world continued with its ordinary rhythm, indifferent to the tragedy that had unfolded in the backyard. Alan felt a profound sense of loneliness, the beauty of the day contrasting sharply with the emptiness that settled into his heart.

He was snapped out of his daze when the paramedics gently guided him away from you. His eyes, still fixed on the sky, were met with the reality of the situation. The beautiful day persisted, unyielding to the pain that Alan carried.

As they loaded you into the ambulance, Alan sat in silence, his voice reduced to a whisper. The paramedics offered words of comfort, but their attempts felt distant, the reality of your absence looming over him.

The journey to the hospital was a blur, the scenery passing by in a haze. Alan's thoughts were consumed by the unfairness of it all, the disconnect between the world's beauty and the tragedy he carried within.

Upon reaching the hospital, Alan's baritone voice, usually a commanding presence, now wavered as he faced the harsh reality. The medical staff ushered him into a room, explaining the necessary procedures. He mechanically went through the motions, but his mind remained fixated on the backyard, the sky, and the unjust beauty of the day.

As the doctors examined your lifeless form, Alan sat in the hospital room, his eyes distant, contemplating the world beyond the sterile walls. The news, when it came, shattered the fragile illusion of normalcy. The beautiful day persisted, unapologetic in its existence, and Alan was left grappling with the incomprehensible truth.

In the days that followed, as Alan navigated the arrangements and condolences, the world outside continued its indifferent dance. The sky remained beautiful, the sun rose and set, and life went on. But for Alan, the echo of your absence cast a shadow over everything.

As he faced the funeral preparations and the condolences of friends and family, Alan couldn't escape the pervasive beauty of the world around him. It felt like a betrayal, a mockery of the grief he carried within.

At the funeral, surrounded by mourners and under the gaze of the beautiful sky, Alan delivered a eulogy with a voice that resonated with both love and bitterness. "Why is the world still beautiful when my wife is gone? It should mourn with us, share in our sorrow."

The beauty of the day persisted, a silent witness to Alan's anguish. He wished for rain, for thunder to match the storm within his heart. But the sky remained clear, and Alan's baritone voice, though filled with pain, echoed the words that lingered in the air.

As the ceremony concluded, Alan stood by your final resting place, gazing at the unyielding sky. The world continued its rhythm, and he, left to navigate the aftermath, felt the weight of the beautiful day as a testament to the unfairness of loss.

In the quiet moments that followed, Alan Rickman, the actor known for his deep, deliberate voice, found himself grappling not only with the absence of you but also with the relentless beauty of a world that seemed oblivious to his pain.

Years later, Alan lay in his bed, his once robust frame now weakened by the persistent battle with pancreatic cancer. As he gazed out the window, the world beyond appeared blurred, much like the lines between his memories and the impending reality.

He could feel the weight of his mortality, the knowledge that today would be his last. The room, filled with the hushed footsteps of Margaret, his maid, downstairs, carried an air of finality. Alan clung to the sheets, grappling with the bittersweet dance between acceptance and reluctance.

In the quiet moments, he couldn't help but wonder if you had felt the same as you faced your inevitable departure. Did you sense the approaching end, embracing it with the same quiet resolve, or was your departure a sudden storm that left him in the aftermath?

As Alan closed his eyes, surrendering to the embrace of mortality, a strange noise interrupted his solitude. His eyes shot open, indignant at the intrusion, only to be met with the gentle tap of raindrops against the windowpane. The sky, unforgivably, chose to weep for him.

How dare the heavens cry for his departure when they remained silent during your farewell? Alan's baritone voice, weakened but still carrying a tone of resentment, muttered, "Did you cry for her, too, or is this your belated acknowledgment of the injustice?"

He listened to the rhythmic dance of raindrops, a peculiar symphony that seemed to mock the stark contrast between his departure and your's. The world outside, painted in the somber hues of rain, provided no solace for the grievances etched in his soul.

As he lay there, sheets clutched in his weakening grasp, Alan's mind drifted to the past. He remembered your laughter, your vibrant spirit, and the unfairness of losing you to an indifferent world. The rain outside, indifferent to his resentment, continued its gentle lament.

In those final moments, Alan's thoughts lingered on the unspoken questions that had haunted him for years. Did you know your time was drawing near, and did you, too, feel the weight of the impending farewell? The answers remained elusive, lost in the echoes of the past.

Weakened but resolute, Alan lay in his bed and glanced out the window. The sound of raindrops tapping against the glass reached his ears, and a spark of anger flared within him. "Not tonight," he muttered to himself. "I won't go out like this."

Determined to have control over his final moments, Alan declared, "Just one more night, one more chance to see the beauty of the sky, like my wife did." With this conviction, he summoned the strength to endure, vowing to hold on until the heavens opened.

Days turned into nights, and Alan's mood fluctuated with the unpredictable weather. Frustration mounted as the rain persisted, denying him the chance to bid farewell under the canvas of a beautiful sky. "Stop!" he shouted at the heavens, his baritone voice echoing through the quiet room. "Let me have one night of clarity before the end."

However, the rain remained indifferent to his pleas, an unyielding force that seemed impervious to the desires of a man grappling with mortality. Alan's anger intensified, and he cursed at the heavens, demanding a reprieve from the ceaseless downpour.

A week passed, and Alan's condition worsened. In his moments of despair, he continued to beg for the rain to stop, yearning for a glimpse of the sky before his final curtain call. The heavens, however, remained unmoved by his entreaties, casting a shadow over his desperate struggle.

One stormy night, Alan, exhausted and defeated, realized that the rain might not cease anytime soon. He knew he couldn't hold on much longer, and the cruel irony of the situation weighed heavily on his heart. "Fine," he whispered, surrendering to the relentless rain. "If this is how it must be, then so be it."

In his final moments, as Alan's breaths grew shallow, the rain outside suddenly ceased. The heavens, as if responding to his silent surrender, opened up to reveal a breathtaking display of stars. The night sky, free from the veil of rain, sparkled in all its glory.

However, Alan, now at peace, could not witness this celestial spectacle. His struggle had ended, and he, like the beauty before him, slept forever, leaving behind a world now free from the burdens of his mortal wishes.

As the rain-soaked earth embraced Alan's final moments, the sky, adorned with the brilliance of a thousand stars, stood as a testament to the beauty his longed to witness. The room, once filled with the echoes of an actor's contemplative voice, now cradled the silence of eternal rest.