#editing because I spelled her name wrong

[hikaruchen]

Repent now, repent now! Remember this body is not your home; No pleasure in the sea, No wound is as sharp as the will of God.

— REPENT NOW CONFESS NOW, Lingua Ignota

INPRNT

-

Here I am being the bearer of good news to tell you Chapter 28 of A King’s Burden by the amazing amazing @thedarknone has updated! GO CHECK IT OUT IF YOU HAVEN’T! Huge thanks for giving me the opportunity to work on this commission, such a pleasant experience and I can’t wait to work with you again :DD

Process

[ruestheday]

one of the biggest lies the fandom will tell you is that alfred pennyworth is a good man.

he’s horrible. people just don’t realize he’s horrible because they’re all too focus on the superheros.

not many people in the fandom know this, but alfred literally has a daughter. her name is julia. why does no one know about julia? BECAUSE HE ABANDONED HER. it’s canon that he chose the waynes over his OWN CHILD. when she’s introduced in the comics she hates her dad because he abandoned her in england to raise a child that wasn’t even his.

the infamous jason “a good soldier” memorial? yeah, alfred did that. bruce wanted it taken down. alfred also left jason’s destroyed robin suit on display.

alfred is the reason tim is robin. dick and bruce are trapped by two-face and alfred just… gives tim a robin costume and sends him on his way. no formal training. no anything.

ever blame dick for damian becoming robin? wrong. it was alfred. dick was against it. alfred is the first one to give damian the robin costume, like he did to tim years before. dick did eventually choose damian as his robin, but that was while damian was ALREADY ROBIN. (he even tells tim that he doesn’t pick tim to be his robin because he considers tim to be an equal, not a sidekick, but i digress)

when bane breaks bruce’s back, alfred literally packs up and leaves. he travels. he just drops everything and goes to explore the world, until dick eventually hunts him back down.

it’s also a common theme that alfred couldn’t find the right balance between being a father figure and a butler, so he was constantly enabling bruce growing up (and still does) because technically bruce was his boss… even though he had custody of him.

edit: actually technically (in some runs) bruce’s uncle has custody of him but literally makes being absent an olympic sport But you get what i mean

edit two: fixed the spelling mistakes that text to speech tiktok made me aware of. u guys are fake for not telling me. anyways fuck ai content farm accs

[zillychu]

designs for a zine piece! enjoy some background story my illustration never needed under the read more (fair warning I did NOT edit this at all):

newbie mage apprentices Sam and Tucker who became friends bc they're kinda… the ones at the bottom of their class and struggle the most, for different reasons. they become besties over time and practice together!

except one night, something goes terribly wrong. they spent the last few nights preparing for a project, a bigger spell that needs an intricate circle with precise measurements to work. but when they try to activate it, well… 

oops. they summoned a demon.

which is, for one, extremely illegal. only certified demonologists are allowed to summon demons because they're so dangerous. anything less than a perfect binding circle and thoroughly researched info on the demon, including their true name, is even remotely safe.

but, weirdly enough… the demon seems just as surprised as they are. as Sam and Tuck frantically try to figure out how to dispel the demon, they realize–oh god, did their circle actually sufficiently bind the demon? it can't leave. they watch the demon tentatively poke it's claws into the air around the boundary, and watch it fizzle, retreating back with a strained hiss.

okay. okay, they can do this. without death looming over their heads, they can figure out how to send the demon back. it's cool, it's fine. except while they leaf through their books, they notice the demon watching them. it looks kind of… curious. timid. interested in what they're doing. it catches them noticing his staring, and it. apologizes? it seems flustered?

weird, okay. they keep looking, and the demon starts talking. at first, little comments to itself. mumbles that soon get just loud enough to hear. little “ooh, is that a telescope?" and “is that what fire looks like up here?" and “that must be for making charcoal…”

Sam is the one brave enough to be like "are all demons as chatty as you??” and the demon gets flustered again, apologizing. says he's just never been topside before, he's only read about humans in tomes. oh wow is that the moon outside? it really IS blue up here! is it always blue? what are you doing up? I thought humans slept at night?

Sam and Tuck can't help getting pulled in with the demon's genuine curiosity. they're wary though, since they know demons can be clever, conniving. there's a number of ways a demon can get the upper hand on a summoner who has them bound. if he gets their full names, gets them to smudge and break the circle… there could also be ways they aren't aware of. so they consider their words carefully, but engage in some chatter while they research.

it's almost morning by the time they find a way to send the demon back–but as they prepare the spell, the demon says WAIT WAIT and they stop, uncertain. the demon starts stammering out how this is weird but like… he really had fun tonight. he doesn't get to just hang out much, especially with anyone his age.

Tuck is like “how do you know our ages??" and the demon points out "oh, you said something about Paulie’s 18th birthday party, so I thought…” and they're both like oh shit we didn't even notice we did that?

“Paulina" Sam corrects in her dumbfounded stupor. 

“Right, Paulina!" the demon snaps his fingers, but quickly loses his confidence when Sam and Tuck continue to stare at him like they're not sure what's going on. he coughs and fidgets and says “um, well, I was just wondering, I guess… if you wanted to summon me another time, I wouldn't mind. you see those circles there? yeah, that's what summoned me. the candles helped too I think. oh, it doesn't need all those runes though, probably don't want to redraw all those.”

Sam and Tuck are practically gawking, but… for some reason, this demon looks so sincere. so much like them, awkward and lonely and genuinely curious.

it's a bad idea. a terrible one, even. the demon probably noticed they're newbies and not demonologists. it could be hoping they make an error in their circle, or mess up a candle, or reveal their names on accident. 

But, well. They're stupid. they're also eager for anything to help them in school, and too empathetic for their own good. they send the demon off with a yeah, no. they then think about it for a week, and end up summoning the demon against their better judgment.

the demon is shocked and so happy, they can't help but be a little endeared. they lay down some ground rules, take care to be as safe as possible… and soon, this demon that introduces himself as “Phantom" becomes a nightly visitor. they talk about their worlds, find out they share a lot of common interests, and help each other in their studies. which, hello, demons also study? bro are you serious??

they play games, laugh till their ribs hurt, and open up to each other on a far deeper level than anyone expected. over time, Phantom becomes a true friend.

Sam and Tuck quietly begin to lament the fact Phantom is stuck in that damn circle. they want to take him places, let him see the human world he seems so interested in. they want to paint his stupid claws and noogie him between his dumb horns and hug him.

but it's an astronomical risk. it's legal for a demonologist with a proper permit, but it's still considered a grave taboo to grant access to a demon outside a circle. there's just too much at risk. demons can be dangerous enough to lay waste to entire towns, take multiple teams of military-rank mages to take down.

they wouldn't risk it… if they hadn't snuck into the library’s restricted section and copy a page from a demonologist book that gives them good framework for a contract. they make some edits to it though, giving Phantom at least a little wiggle room to protect himself if need be. and allow him use of transformation magic so he can hide somehow. but they spend weeks making sure they have airtight wording to ensure Phantom can't cause anyone or anything any substantial harm. 

when they finally bring the contract to Phantom, he's stunned. he cries. nothing needs to be said, they all know the gravity of their proposal. even if they ask for proof of Phantom's trust in turn, first. they ask for his full name, so they can bind him. just temporarily. but in that moment, they'll have full control over him. they could instead tell Phantom to serve them, force him to obey their every order. even if it's just for a moment, giving them his full name with the proper circle and incantation, is putting his life in their hands. 

Phantom, with tears still in his eyes, smiles warmly and nods. with only a breath to steel himself, he gives them his full name. Daniel James Fenton.

magic sparks in the circle, and Sam and Tuck finish the incantation. ethereal chains sprout up to wrap around Phantom's arms and legs, which makes him jump–but the unwavering trust in his eyes makes the two humans choke up.

they release the binding. all that's left is to break the containment barrier in the circle, so Phantom can walk free.

“Uh, about that…” Phantom laughs sheepishly… then proceeds to step outside of the circle, merely wincing when the barrier zaps around him.

Sam and Tucker gawk. Phantom scratches his neck. “Y-yeah, so… your barrier circle was already broken that first night. It's, uh… right over there. You missed a spot.”

abject horror overcomes them because this entire time Phantom's been visiting, he could have broken out? EASILY?? THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN DEAD.

Tucker falls to his knees, but soon starts to laugh. it's kind of hysterical at first but slowly, he and Sam are genuinely laughing. they're so STUPID, and Phantom is the most un-demonlike demon they've ever HEARD of. Phantom is still flustered, stammering out apologies because he wasn't trying to deceive them or anything! he just didn't want to scare them! without a proper containment circle they technically couldn't send him back either, so he just… went back using his own magic each time they “dispelled" him. 

once they've calmed down, Phantom morphs his body into a human form–which shock Sam and Tuck, because uh, only elite demons are capable of that. they were expecting an animal, or straight up going invisible. Phantom laughs it off, says he just, spent a lot of time practicing bc he's so interested in the human world (not a lie, but). he proceeds to adopt the nickname Danny, and they all have FUN WONDERFUL SHENANIGANS

(and sometime in the near future, when faced with something truly threatening he needs to protect them from, Danny reveals that. well. their contract also had some holes in it. and he's had access to his full demon power this whole time. whoopsie! it's a good thing he genuinely loves them and doesn't want to hurt anyone, or their asses would be SO dead lol)

they're about as normal about his full demon form as you'd expect from me btw:

[chimcess]

Bittersweet || myg (1)

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Other Tags: Grad Student!Yoongi, Undergrad!Reader, Grad Student!Hoseok, Uncle!Namjoon, Doctor!Namjoon, Grad Student!Jimin, Fuckboy!Jungkook, GradStudent!Jungkook, Boss!Seokjin, Yoongi POV Genre: College!AU, Strangers to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, kinda Student/Teacher but not really, Older!Yoongi, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut Word Count: 19.9k+ Summary: When a cynical graduate student meets an overly enthusiastic undergraduate, the air crackles with tension—though not all of it is good. Warnings: Mean!Yoongi, he's extremely rude, like extremely so, prank gone wrong, bitter grad student to the max, strong language, Jimin is a snitch, possible wrong science information (i'm sorry i'm not perfect), sexual tension, reader faints at the sight of blood, unfunny pranks, Yoongi is jaded, he's a softie once you get to know him, hospital visit, non-descriptive male masterbation, reader has a stutter when nervous, Yoongi just being in denial for almost 20k words, kissing at work, almost caught, Jealous!Yoongi, i'm sorry but this JK is kind of a slime ball, Reader knows what she's doing, they're adorable, lots of bickering, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: Another old draft I found buried in my Google Docs! I didn't need to change too much, and it's very loosely edited, so please forgive any grammar or spelling mistakes. This was rather long (and I don't know why I never posted it), so it had to be split into two parts because of Tumblr's new rules. Thanks for reading!

Next

Subject: Undergrad Mentoring From: Seokjin Kim, seokjinkim(at)fhcrc(.)org   Sent: Friday, January 14, 2024, 6:18 AM   To: Yoongi Min, ygmin(at)u(.)washington(.)edu  

Yoongi,  

I’m forwarding an email from a brilliant undergraduate. Have you thought about mentoring a student? I really think you should.  

— Jin  

---

From: ynyln(at)u(.)washington(.)edu   Sent: Friday, January 14, 2024, 2:08 AM   To: Seokjin Kim, seokjinkim(at)fhcrc(.)org   Subject: Undergraduate Research  

Dear Professor Kim,  

My name is Y/N Y/L/N, and I’m a junior in the School of Arts and Sciences, majoring in microbiology. I’m incredibly interested in undergraduate research, particularly in your fascinating work on Helicobacter pylori and its connection to stomach cancer.  

Although I don’t have prior research experience, I’m hardworking and responsible, and I would appreciate the chance to join your team. Please let me know if you have space available in your lab.  

Attached are my CV and transcript.  

Thank you!  

Y/N Y/L/N  

---

Dr. Seokjin Kim Member, Division of Basic Sciences   Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center   1100 Fairview Avenue North   Seattle, WA 98109-1024  

I stared at Jin's email, the words bouncing around in my head. No previous research experience? Oh great! Just fucking great!

As the clock hit noon, I trudged into the break room, where the fluorescent lights buzzed like a swarm of angry bees. It was my little escape, my sanctuary from the suffocating hallways of academia. Hoseok, the only graduate student I considered a friend, was already inhaling his lunch.

I plopped my Tupperware into the microwave, the day’s weight pressing down on me like a thick fog. “Jin wants me to take on an undergrad,” I grumbled, feeling the words stick in my throat.

“Seriously?” Hoseok asked, mouth half-full. He didn’t even bother to swallow before adding, “Have them do the dishes.”

“Oh man, this is going to suck,” I muttered, stirring my mac and cheese with the enthusiasm of a person headed to their execution. “I have to train her, and she has zero lab experience. I don’t have time for this crap.”

The microwave beeped, its harsh sound grating against my nerves. I pulled out my steaming food, the steam rising ominously. “I tried to get out of it, but Jin insisted it’s ‘all part of the training.’” I mimicked his voice, nasal and overdramatic. Hoseok chuckled, nearly choking on his food.

I dug into my lunch, my mind racing. “She’s probably some pre-med trying to pad her CV. Calling our research ‘fascinating’ like she even knows what we do here—just another cookie-cutter student firing off a hundred emails.” 

“Maybe she’s cute?” Hoseok waggled his eyebrows.

I rolled my eyes, ignoring him. My single status was a constant source of irritation for him. He meant well, but his attempts at matchmaking were like trying to fix a flat tire with a spoon.

“I already did my required TA-ing last year, and it nearly gave me an ulcer. I thought I was done with whiny undergrads! This really sucks!” The words burst out, hot and angry. The idea of babysitting a clueless student gnawed at me like a persistent itch.

I focused on my research, hoping it would be my ticket out of this academic purgatory. Mentoring an undergrad was the last thing I needed—a distraction threatening to derail my meticulously planned escape.

After lunch, I headed to the incubator to check on my cultures, the familiar hum a small comfort amidst the chaos. Then I settled at my desk, drafting a reluctant email to the undergrad, my words dripping with begrudging obligation.

From: Yoongi Min, ygmin(at)u(.)washington(.)edu   Sent: Friday, January 14, 2024, 1:05 PM   To: ynyln(at)u(.)washington(.)edu  

Come to the lab on Monday between 8 AM and 7 PM. Bring your schedule.  

Yoongi Min PhD Candidate   Kim Lab   Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center   1100 Fairview Avenue North   Seattle, WA 98109-1024  

This was going to suck.

“Hi, I’m looking for Yoongi Min?” A stranger’s voice cut through the quiet of the lab, and I felt my focus waver. I was knee-deep in DNA sequencing data, desperately searching for a start codon when the interruption struck like nails on a chalkboard.

“That’s him over there,” Jimin, my lab mate, replied. I didn’t need to look up; I knew he was pointing at me.

“CTT ATC GTG ACT…” I murmured; eyes glued to the screen. The code demanded my attention.

A shadow crept closer, invading my peripheral vision. I ignored it, hyper-fixated on the screen.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” the shadow solidified into the undergrad I’d been dreading. I continued to stare at the screen, unwilling to break my concentration.

“Did you bring your schedule?” My voice was clipped, an attempt to maintain my rhythm.

CGC CTC CGT ATG… There it was! I highlighted the start codon, feeling a small sense of victory amidst the irritation. Finally, I turned to face her. She held a crumpled piece of paper in trembling hands.

The crackling noise of the paper grated on my nerves, and I snatched it from her. A quick scan revealed she had a limited availability. Tuesdays and Thursdays it was.

“Do you want one or two credits?” I asked, filling out her form with practiced efficiency.

“Oh… um… t-two,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Oh great, a stammerer. I disliked her already. My frustration bubbled beneath the surface.

“That’s ten hours a week,” I said, scribbling on the form. “Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, maybe some Wednesday mornings.” I thrust the completed form back at her and turned back to my computer.

“See you tomorrow,” I dismissed her with a wave, eager to end the interaction. Her stammering was already wearing on my patience.

When I returned from lunch, she was perched at my bench. A laugh escaped me at the sight of her attire.

“What the hell is that?” I pointed at her lab coat, which was covered in hand-drawn bacteria.

She jumped, eyes wide. “My la-la-lab coat?” she stuttered.

Oh great, she’s a fucking idiot.

I took a deep breath, scanning her outfit for safety violations. At least she wore closed shoes and jeans, but her long hair hung loose.

“You should tie your hair up. You’ll be working near the flame.”

She pulled a hairband from her wrist and started tying her hair back. As I walked past, I noticed the back of her lab coat had “Bacteria Rule” scrawled in huge letters.

Bacteria Rule? Is she serious? I wanted to stab my eyes out with the pen in my hand. Who wastes time drawing on a lab coat? Nobody in their right mind, that’s for sure.

Something was off about her—I was certain of it. Concerned about her competence, I decided she couldn’t be trusted with any real work. Instead, I assigned her mundane chores, the kind even a high schooler could handle. It might not have been what Jin envisioned, but it was the only way.

God, I’m already dreading this. Can it be Friday already?

Hoseok and I lounged in the break room, our feet propped up on the coffee table, Tupperwares in our laps. The lack of a proper dining table didn’t bother us; it still beat eating at our desks.

“How’s it going with the undergrad?” Hoseok asked, mouth full.

“I’m pretty sure there’s something wrong with her,” I said, dead serious.

Hoseok laughed, even though I wasn’t joking.

“All she does is nod at what I say,” I elaborated. “Like one of those bobblehead dolls.” I stretched my neck and bobbed my head for effect. “Except she has bangs flopping all over her face when she nods frantically at everything I say.”

Hoseok snorted but kept eating.

“And she stutters! Well, when she speaks, that is. She doesn’t speak much. I kind of like that about her.”

Hoseok chuckled. “Sounds like you’re in love, bro.”

“Fuck you, Hoseok,” I shot back, uninterested. I already knew where this was heading.

“Is she cute?” Hoseok asked, glancing at me with a smirk.

“She’s a baby.”

“Is she a cute baby?”

“Hoseok, she’s… she’s a zygote.”

“Well, maybe with this zygote, you’ll learn how to be human again.” He turned his attention back to his food.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Come on. You’re not exactly social, bro. All you do is lab stuff and occasionally hang out with me and Serena.”

“What are you talking about? I am social.” My tone came out whiny, betraying my disbelief.

“Oh, really?” Hoseok raised an eyebrow, gesturing to my Tupperware. “So social that you prefer to eat alone in the lab over joining us in the break room?”

“Do you even hear yourself? You’re such a dork. I eat in here because the lab is a mess, not because I’m antisocial.” I shrugged, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping into my cheeks.

“Whatever you say, Yoongi,” he laughed, clearly unconvinced.  

I shook my head. I didn’t want to think about this right now. Instead, I grabbed my backpack, bracing myself for the next round of research duties.

After a few weeks of working together, I had to admit—albeit grudgingly—that the undergrad was following instructions better than I’d expected. If I could just ignore her ridiculous lab coat and the way those bangs flopped annoyingly over her forehead, she wouldn’t be half bad. The real annoyance, though, was her constant presence invading my space. But honestly, it could be worse; at least she wasn’t stammering nonstop. Most of the time, she barely spoke, and mercifully, she didn’t ask a ton of questions.

As I walked back from lunch with Hoseok, I was surprised to realize I didn’t dread the thought of the undergrad being in the lab when I arrived. Maybe having her shadow me wouldn’t be the end of the world after all.

Of course, the moment that thought crossed my mind, I jinxed myself. Stepping into the lab, I found her cleaning my bench, and a wave of irritation crashed over me. 

“What the heck are you doing?” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.

She flinched, turning slowly to face me, her gloved hands still gripping an ethanol squeeze bottle. “I-I just thought I’d clean up a bit,” she stammered.

“Did you touch my samples?” I shot back, a surge of panic coursing through me.

“Which samples?” 

“Those!” I pointed at the upside-down tubes that had been perfectly positioned when I left, now carelessly shoved to the side. 

“I-I just mov—”

“Did you touch my RNA samples?” Her mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air—an annoyingly stupid fish. “Do you know how labile RNA is?”

“L-la-labile?” 

“Yes! Unstable—easily degradable. The main point here: you don’t touch my RNA samples!” 

“I-I used gloves… I’m sorry,” she mumbled, tears shimmering in her eyes. 

If she started crying, I was really going to lose it. 

I took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of my nose to calm the storm brewing inside me. Slipping on my own gloves, I gently set my samples back in their rightful place, praying I hadn’t lost a week’s worth of work. 

I could hear her sniffling next to me, and I groaned out loud. “Why don’t you and your la-la-lab coat coat go find something useful to do?” 

I listened as she shuffled away, clearly eager to escape my sight. I should have known better than to think this arrangement would work out.

From: Seokjin Kim, seokjinkim(at)fhcrc(.)org   Sent: Monday, February 14, 2024, 6:27 AM To: Yoongi Min, ygmin(at)u(.)washington(.)edu

Yoongi,  

Part of the undergrad training involves more than just doing chores. Cleaning dishes, stacking pipette tips, and capping tubes do not count as experiments.  

I expect your undergrad to have enough experimental data to give a presentation at the end of the semester.  

Jin  

What the hell? Did she tell him I’m only having her do chores? 

Shit, shit, shit, shit. 

Jin was right, though. All she’d done these past few weeks were chores. Aside from that little incident with my RNA samples, she hadn’t completely messed up yet. Maybe I should cut her some slack and give her a real project. She might learn something—or at the very least, realize how frustrating science could be and decide to give up on it sooner rather than later. 

Oh God, how was she going to give a presentation if she couldn’t even say one coherent sentence without stuttering? 

This would be an embarrassment, not just for her but for me too. If she messed up, she’d make me look bad. 

Decision made. I needed to lighten up a bit and actually try to teach her something.

On Thursday, the undergrad was busy with her chores when I approached her, project sheet in hand. 

She looked at it, her eyebrows raised. “What is this?” 

“Your project for the next few weeks.” 

Her face lit up with excitement. 

“You didn’t have to go crying to Jin. I was going to give you a project anyway.” 

Her smile faltered into a frown. “W-What are you talking about?” She gazed up at me, bewildered, but I waved her off, unwilling to explain further. 

“Enough chattering. Those tubes aren’t going to wash themselves.” 

Gotcha, undergrad. Your puppy dog eyes don’t work on me.

It was the first week of real work for the undergrad, and I felt a knot of anxiety twisting in my stomach. My palms were clammy, and my heart raced uncomfortably. 

Am I excited about this? Nah… I’m probably just hungry.

“Do you know what PCR is?” 

She nodded eagerly, pulling out her notepad, ready to take notes. 

I explained how I wanted her to amplify two toxin genes from a set of H. pylori samples that had just arrived that morning from the hospital. Naturally, I only gave her a small subset of the total samples. It was a manageable number—enough for her to play around with, but not so many that I’d be ready to murder her if she messed up.

As usual, the undergrad took notes on everything I said, jotting down even where I pointed out the locations of various equipment. For all I knew, she was sketching a detailed map of the lab in that notepad of hers.

The undergrad sat at the bench, PCR tubes lined up in front of her, the protocol to her left, pipettes to her right, and a rack of reagents looming in the back. I watched her as she stared at everything, nervously picking at the edges of her gloves. 

She was going to drive me insane. 

“Do you know how to use the pipettes?” 

She looked up at me, shaking her head timidly. 

“Why didn’t you say so?” My voice came out louder than intended, and she flinched. 

We were never going to get anywhere like this. 

I took a deep breath and tried again, grabbing one of the micropipettes. “You set the volume here.” I pointed to the rings. “Clockwise to increase, counterclockwise to decrease.” 

I demonstrated, twisting the rings as I explained the display window and where to discard the disposable tips when she was done. 

After a few trials, the undergrad carefully pipetted into the PCR tubes, preparing the reaction with surprising precision. 

She was focused, making sure not to contaminate anything. It was clear she was paying close attention to every detail. 

Skilled hands, I noted, feeling a flicker of satisfaction. 

Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as I thought.

I led the undergrad into the darkroom, where shadows clung to the walls like forgotten secrets, ready to ensnare us. The air was thick with a sharp, chemical tang, buzzing with anticipation as we approached the agarose gel. The PCR products shimmered faintly under the dim light, a hidden treasure waiting to be revealed. Surprisingly, a flicker of excitement sparked within me, a rare departure from my usual brooding.

“The ethidium bromide binds to the DNA,” I explained, my voice echoing softly in the sterile silence. “When we expose it to UV light, it fluoresces an orange color. You’ll see the PCR products light up on the gel.”

She walked beside me, clutching the gel like a sacred relic, her wide eyes absorbing every word. I could almost see the gears turning in her mind, likely wishing she had her notepad to document my brilliance, as if capturing my words would somehow validate her existence.

As we stepped into the darkroom, she hesitated, like a deer caught in headlights, before gingerly placing the gel inside the UV box. She moved carefully, avoiding the pitfalls of air bubbles that could ruin everything. Either she’d done this before, or she had the sense to read up on it. 

Good. I liked a prepared undergrad.

Once she’d set the gel, I instructed her to turn off the lights. The room plunged into darkness, and I leaned in, my heart racing a little faster. Peering into the UV box, I couldn’t help but grin. “Well, look at that. All your reactions worked.”

“Really?” Her voice trembled from the back, laced with a quiver of hope.

“Yeah,” I called back, though the shadows played tricks on me. “Come closer so you can see.”

I waited, but she lingered in the gloom, frozen as if afraid to approach the light. “Come here, I don’t bite,” I coaxed, trying to keep my tone lighthearted.

Finally, she moved, her profile illuminated under the eerie purple glow. Her eyes widened, and a smile broke across her face like dawn piercing through a dark night. I snorted softly, amused by how easily undergrads were impressed.

After she soaked in the spectacle, I showed her how to take a photo of her gel, and we returned to the lab. She began dutifully filling in her lab notebook, and a glimmer of pride swelled within me. That was until I checked her progress later. The notebook was pristine—a meticulous record of her every move since day one. Hope flickered in my chest, only to sputter out when I turned to the last page. There it was, taped prominently: a picture of the gel with “All worked!” scrawled underneath, accompanied by a crude smiley face.

A fucking smiley face.

This undergrad, I thought, definitely had a screw loose.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” 

“What’s wrong with it?” I glanced down at my sweater, a worn piece of fabric riddled with holes—just like my soul. It was what I had been wearing all day, and it sufficed. 

“It has holes in it.”

“And?” I shot back, genuinely baffled. It was just clothing—a shield against the chill of the world.

“Are you making a fashion statement? You do know grunge was over twenty years ago? I know you live in Seattle and all, but I’m not digging the Kurt Cobain look… at all.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I muttered, irritation bubbling beneath my skin. “I’m starting to regret bringing you to this.”

“Relax, it’s just beers with Hobi and Serena,” she said, rolling her eyes like I was some petulant child.

I raked a hand through my hair, but it sprang back defiantly, so I slapped on a beanie to cover the chaos.

“You know, Yoongi, it wouldn’t hurt to wash your hair once in a while. How are you going to meet any cute girls?”

Here we go again.

“Yoonji, would you get off my case? I don’t want to meet anybody.” 

Yoonji dropped in at least once a month, a whirlwind of concern and relentless nagging. She never believed me when I claimed to be fine over the phone. 

It was endearing, in a way, but mostly a burden I didn’t need. My family was my anchor, yet their relentless need to take care of me felt like shackles.

“Okay, okay... let’s go then.” 

“It’s just beers, for crying out loud.” 

“I’m telling you to relax.” 

In the car, I felt her eyes boring into me. “It’s just... I worry about you.” She brushed her hand along my arm, and I sighed.

“I’m fine,” I insisted, but I could see the disbelief flickering across her face. “Really. I’m just tired of school. I want to start real life already. I’ll be twenty-six this summer, and I’m still stuck in this academic limbo.”

“Hell, I’m twenty-seven!” Hoseok said when we arrived at the bar, lifting his pint in a mock salute. “And look at all the fuck I give!” He downed it with a flourish.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I shot back.

“Hey,” Serena interjected, her tone warning.

“It’s okay…” Hoseok waved dismissively. “He’s just got a bad case of graduate bitterness.”

Graduate bitterness... yes, that was exactly it. A malaise that settled in my bones like a persistent chill. I glanced around, my throat tightening as if the weight of my uncertainty was squeezing the life out of me.

I led the undergrad through the winding corridors of the building, our footsteps echoing like whispers in the shadows. She walked beside me in near silence, her gaze occasionally darting down to her notepad, scribbling furiously as if the ink might escape her. If only she spent as much time observing her surroundings as she did with her frantic notes, she wouldn’t need them to find her way back to the sequencing facility.

There was something peculiar about her. She avoided meeting my eyes, her demeanor skirting the edges of unease, a deep-seated shyness that pricked at my irritation. And Hoseok thinks I’m the antisocial one!

As we turned a corner, I pondered the unspoken rules of social behavior in the lab when we suddenly bumped into Jungkook Wand, another graduate student known for his knack for lurking around.

“Min,” he greeted, his gaze fixated on my undergrad, likely eyeing her in that ridiculous lab coat that looked like it had seen better days. Why she insisted on wearing that tattered garment was beyond me.

“We missed you at happy hour,” he added, his eyes still glued to her, ignoring me completely.

Every Friday, the department hosted a gathering that, while lame, at least offered beer. Last week, Yoonji was visiting, and I wouldn’t have dreamed of dragging her into that debacle.

“Yeah, my cousin was in town,” I managed, trying to shake off the feeling of being an afterthought.

Jungkook’s smile widened as he turned his attention to her. I should probably introduce them, but for the life of me, her name eluded me. Panic set in like a cold sweat.

“Hi,” Jungkook said, flashing a grin that felt a bit too eager.

Shit. What was her name again?

The girl glanced up at me, and a flash of annoyance crossed her features, as if she could read my mind. “I’m Y/N,” she said, her voice laced with indignation as she extended her hand. The scowl she shot me could peel paint off the walls.

Y/N. The name landed in my mind like a lead weight. How had I forgotten it?

Before I could muster an excuse, Jungkook was launching into conversation, his gaze lingering on her with a familiarity that irked me. I didn’t like Jungkook, nor the way he looked at my undergrad, so I steered her away from him, back toward the safety of the lab.

Now, what was her name again? Damn it.

The following week, I was knee-deep in sequence alignments at my cluttered desk when the fire alarm shrieked, slicing through the stillness like a knife. I turned to find my undergrad, her wide eyes betraying sheer panic. 

She thought it was real. In that moment, a mischievous idea sparked in my mind. 

“Run, Becca! Run!” I shouted, leaping from my chair.

“What?” 

The color drained from her face, and I couldn't help but laugh as confusion and fear played out across her features— priceless. I doubled over, laughter bubbling out like soda from a shaken can. 

The alarm blared on, drowning out her startled gasp as she clutched a rack of tubes, trembling. “It’s just a fire drill! Relax!” I finally managed to gasp.

She set the tubes down, took a deep breath, and shot me a glare, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “That was not funny,” she huffed, her voice laced with indignation. “And my name is Y/N!”

With that, she stormed off, leaving me with echoes of my laughter still ringing in my ears. 

Oh, being social was unexpectedly entertaining!

The fire alarms continued to test my patience, ringing again and again. Each time, I chuckled at the memory of her startled expression. Now, standing outside for what felt like the fifth time, I glanced sideways at Y/N, who was shifting her weight from foot to foot, hands shoved into her pockets. 

“Want to grab some coffee?” I asked, feeling an odd urge to make amends.

She blinked at me, surprise flickering across her face as if she couldn’t believe I was actually talking to her.

The cafeteria at the library was our destination, and we walked in silence, the clouds parting for a moment to let in the faintest hint of sunshine. 

As we stood in line, I noticed her tense shoulders. Suddenly, she muttered a string of curses under her breath. Before I could react, her arm was around mine, grinning at me like a Cheshire cat.

“What the hell are you doing?” I asked, bewildered.

She maintained her smile but released me, stepping in front. “Say something funny,” she ordered, her voice low and urgent.

“What?”

Then she erupted in laughter, leaving me standing there in utter confusion.

She pressed a hand against my chest, and I wasn’t sure whether to be amused or alarmed. Was this how lab partners acted in her world?

But just as quickly as the laughter came, it faded, and she stepped back, looking sheepish, as if the moment had been a strange dream.

I moved up in line to get my coffee. “Do you want anything?”

“No, thanks,” she replied, shaking her head. I decided to drop the subject entirely.

As we started heading back, she caught up to me, her expression suddenly earnest. “I’m sorry,” she blurted. “There’s this guy, Jonah. He won’t take a hint. I thought if he saw me with someone…”

I tuned out her words, her rhythm a blur as I realized just how bizarre everything was.

Could undergrads get any weirder?

Sitting alone on a bench Wednesday afternoon, I savored the solitude when Jungkook appeared, looming over me like a vulture. 

“Min,” he said, his tone dripping with false familiarity.

I glared at him, not in the mood for whatever nonsense he was about to spill. 

“Where’s that cute little thing you were with?” 

“Who?”

“You know, the one in the colorful lab coat.”

Colorful? I snorted, recalling the eyesore she wore.

“She’s not here,” I replied curtly.

“Got her number?”

“Why would I have her number? And why do you want it?”

He raised his eyebrows, a smirk spreading across his face. “You know… you and her…”

I cut him off, anger flaring in my chest. “Me and her what?”

“Is she up for grabs?”

I couldn’t believe he’d come to my lab just to ask about her.

“Jungkook, she’s an undergrad.”

He laughed, completely oblivious. “Dude, have you looked at her? She’s fine.”

“Yeah, and she’s crazy.”

“Even better!” His expression made my stomach churn.

“I don’t have her number, and if I did, I wouldn’t give it to you.”

With that, I shoved my earbuds in, blocking him out as he stormed off, his words echoing in my mind.

Fucking creep.

Even though it was Friday—one of those days Y/N usually avoided—the lab felt off-kilter, like an old, rickety house holding its breath. She hovered at my desk while I pulled up the sequencing results on my laptop. Last night, I’d sent her a simple email, expecting a casual response. But her reply had come back faster than a ghost in the night. She wanted to see the data today.

As we sat there, the silence between us thickened, almost palpable. Her face was a mask of concentration, but her expressions kept faltering, crumpling like old paper. Not that I cared too much; she had to learn that research was 90% disappointment wrapped in frustration.

“Why didn’t it work?” she asked, her voice tinged with sadness, as if she were mourning a lost hope.

“Maybe you made a mistake?” I suggested, trying to sound casual.

“I was very careful,” she shot back, defensive, her eyes narrowing like a predator ready to pounce.

How typical. Pre-med students always thought they were immune to failure, that the universe owed them success on a silver platter.

“It happens,” I shrugged, trying to dismiss the tension.

“I don’t understand,” she said, her brows knitting together.

“There's a reason it’s called research. If you only had to do it once, it would be called a search.”

“So, what do I do now?”

“You start over.”

“From the beginning?” Her voice trembled, disbelief flickering in her eyes.

“Yeah.”

A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she gazed at her notebook, defeated. Her eyes flitted to the calendar on the wall, and her pencil scratched furiously on the pad. “Can I come tomorrow? I want to have cells growing by Monday.”

Her eagerness surprised me. I added “overachiever” to the growing list of quirks that made Y/N so peculiar.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” I teased, raising an eyebrow.

“I know that.”

“Don’t you have a frat party to attend?” I quipped, but her glare silenced me, a reprimand that cut through the lab's sterile air. “Fine, come tomorrow,” I relented, knowing I’d be here anyway. Weekends in the lab were the best; no distractions, just the hum of machinery and the click of keys.

“Awesomesauce!” she chirped, her smile lighting up the dim room. I rolled my eyes, annoyed yet impressed by her determination. Maybe, just maybe, she had what it took for grad school after all.

Saturdays were sacred—my little slice of peace amid the storm of classes and lab reports. After a killer morning workout, I made my way back to the lab, my damp hair fluttering in the cool breeze. Just as I settled into my zone, my phone buzzed with a message that snapped me back to reality. 

“Mr. Graduate Student, I’m at the front of the building. Y/N.”

I chuckled, shaking my head at her cheesy attempt at humor. By the time I reached the entrance, I found her wrestling with her hair, tying it up into a high ponytail that looked like it could give anyone a headache just by looking at it. But when she caught sight of me, her face lit up with a grin that could brighten the cloudiest day.

“Very funny,” I replied dryly as I held the door open for her. “It’s Yoongi, remember?”

As we stepped inside, the silence stretched between us, thick and awkward. I considered tossing out a quip about her hairstyle or her lab coat, but then a mischievous prank began to brew in my mind—dark and delightful, like a noxious weed spreading through my thoughts.

“Start your experiment from scratch,” I said, forcing a serious tone. “Could be that my reagents were contaminated.”

Her eyes widened, and I could barely suppress a smirk. It was a complete lie, of course; the old autoclave in the corner was already wheezing like an ancient beast. But picturing her panic was too tempting. 

Settling at my bench, I could barely contain my excitement. But instead of the expected rush of alarm, there was a loud crash—glass shattering like a million tiny dreams—and then silence. 

What the hell was that?

I found her on the floor, surrounded by shards of glass that sparkled like lost hopes. The autoclave hissed and wheezed, steam curling around us like a ghost. I rushed to her side, trying to stem the leak with my hands. 

“What happened?” I asked, crouching beside her. She looked like a wilted flower, her head buried in her knees, eyes squeezed shut.

“Are you okay?” I tried again, dread pooling in my stomach as I saw her trembling hands. Her breath came in quick bursts, and my heart raced. 

She mumbled something I couldn’t catch, her palm pressed hard against her leg. “Let me see,” I urged, only to be hit with a wave of horror: a deep gash across her palm, crimson pooling onto the cold tiles.

Oh, no...

Panic surged as I scooped her up, her fragile body slumping against mine. “You’re okay,” I whispered, the words feeling hollow. “It’s okay.” 

I hurried her to the sink, the cool water a sharp contrast to the rising heat in the lab. She buried her face in my chest, her panic palpable against my shirt. 

“Is there still blood?” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

“Mostly gone. But we need to get to the ER,” I insisted, urgency tightening my tone.

She groaned, eyes still shut tight, her composure slipping away. 

“Please, open your eyes,” I pleaded, gently lifting her chin. I rubbed my thumb along her cheek, trying to anchor her to reality.

“Can you walk?” 

She nodded weakly, but when she tried to stand, her legs buckled. I swept her back up, panic clawing at my throat. 

What have I done? The air felt thick with dread, and I knew I had to get her out of there. 

I carried her to my car, the world outside fading into a blur, as if the universe was holding its breath. Carefully, I placed her in the passenger seat, her eyes still shut like she was blocking out the horrors around us. I fastened her seatbelt, feeling the weight of the moment. "Please say something," I urged, glancing at her, desperate for any sign of life.

"I hate blood," she mumbled, voice fragile.

Relief washed over me—she was talking. It struck me as strange that a pre-med student would detest blood. "Are you still dizzy?" 

She nodded, and my heart sank at her admission. The crease in her forehead deepened, and I wanted nothing more than to smooth it away.

"We’ll be at the hospital in ten minutes," I promised, focusing on the road ahead.

"Would you distract me, so I don’t think about the blood?" 

"I don’t know how," I admitted sheepishly.

"Say something funny." 

"Funny? Okay. It’s pretty funny that you want to go to med school and you faint at the sight of blood." 

"Who says I'm pre-med?" she shot back, and I blinked in surprise.

"You're not?" 

"No, and that really wasn’t funny. Talking about blood isn’t going to help me forget about it." 

Frustration clawed at me as I struggled for something to say. 

"What do you want me to say?" 

"Don’t you know any jokes?" There was an edge of frustration in her voice.

"No." 

"Everyone knows at least one joke, Yoongi." The way she said my name sent a jolt through me, tightening my stomach with something close to admiration.

Before I knew it, I blurted out the lamest joke I could remember from college. "Two hydrogen atoms walk into a bar," I began, watching her lips twitch upward. "One says, ‘I think I've lost an electron.’ The other asks, ‘Are you sure?’ The first replies, ‘Yes. I'm positive.’"

I cringed at how cheesy it was, but when her smile finally broke through, it felt like winning the lottery.

"That was lame," she said, but the glimmer of her smile gave me hope.

At a red light, I risked a glance at her. Her eyes were still closed, but the pale green tint to her skin had faded, replaced by a healthy glow. My heart swelled with relief.

The driver behind me honked impatiently, snapping me back to reality.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, noticing her fingers curling around her injured wrist. 

She nodded, a pout forming on her lips that made my heart ache. I nearly missed a stop sign, cursing under my breath.

"God, I’m such a jerk," I muttered, guilt gnawing at me. I had messed up, all in the name of a stupid joke. I racked my brain for something else to say but came up empty.

"I don’t know any more jokes, but I was good at geeky pickup lines back in college," I offered, desperate to lift her spirits. Her smile returned, lighting up the car.

"This better be good," she warned teasingly.

"If I were an enzyme, I’d be DNA helicase, so I could unzip your genes." 

"Oh my God," she snorted, and I laughed, relieved to see her react. "Did you use that on anybody?" 

"Maybe," I hinted, my chest tightening with excitement.

"Did it work?" 

"No," I admitted, but I was laughing now, and she was grinning, even with her eyes still closed. I was determined to keep her smiling. 

"Oh! Do you like The Police?" 

"The police?" She frowned, confusion crossing her features.

"Yeah…" 

"As in the profession?" 

"No, you dork. The band. Sting's band?" 

"Oh, yeah. I guess." She shrugged.

And against my better judgment, I cleared my throat and began singing. "Every bond you break… Every electron you take…"

Finally, her eyes fluttered open, surprise and delight dancing across her face. I couldn’t help but wiggle my eyebrows, and her smile broadened, banishing the shadows of panic. "Oh, can’t you see, you’re covalently bonded to me…" I sang, pouring my energy into the ridiculousness of it. Nothing felt more beautiful than the light in her eyes. 

How had I never noticed how amazing her smile was before?

We pulled into the University’s Medical Center in under ten minutes, just like I expected. I parked quickly and rushed around to help her out, but she stumbled out on her own, nearly losing her balance. I caught her just before she could face plant onto the pavement—or worse, land hard on her injured hand.

I could feel irritation bubbling up inside me. Did she really think I wouldn’t help? Sure, I was an idiot sometimes, but I still had a decent sense of gentlemanly instincts. 

“Can you walk?” I asked, keeping my hand around her elbow as we approached the entrance.

“I think so,” she replied softly, but I kept my grip steady, guiding her into the emergency room. 

Inside, a flicker of relief hit me—the place was nearly empty, and we should get seen fairly quickly. “Hello,” I said to the front desk lady, who was glued to her computer screen. She glanced up, her expression completely bored, and didn’t reply. Instant dislike. 

“She cut her hand, and it looks deep,” I said, gesturing toward Y/N beside me.

“Name?” The front desk lady’s question hung in the air like a sword about to drop, and suddenly, I froze.

Goddammit…

She didn’t mean my name. My stomach twisted as I desperately searched my memory. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten her name again.

It starts with a B, doesn’t it? I racked my brain, stalling as the front desk lady’s eyebrows shot up impatiently.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” came the shaky voice next to me, cutting through my fog of embarrassment.

God, I was such an idiot! I wanted to punch myself for being so careless.

I looked at her—Y/N—and even though she shook her head, a grin crept onto the corner of her mouth. Maybe, just maybe, I was forgiven. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N… I repeated silently, determined that this time I would remember.

I was convinced that the “doctor” tending to Y/N wasn’t a real doctor—not yet, anyway. He claimed the cut wasn’t deep and that it hadn’t damaged any tendons or nerves. He even said it was clean enough to glue shut, which apparently was a thing now. But my gut twisted with doubt; something about him set off alarms in my head.

Y/N had her eyes squeezed shut, clutching my hand like it was a lifeline while this wannabe physician—Doogie Howser, I mentally dubbed him—cleaned her wound. She perched on the examination table, her injured hand resting on a tray beside her, as I stood behind her, anxiety tightening my chest. In the chaos of her injury and my desperate attempts to care for her, her ponytail had loosened, hanging low at the nape of her neck. A sudden curiosity gripped me: What would her hair look like, cascading down like a waterfall?

“Y/N,” I whispered, leaning closer, needing to say her name again, to engrain it into my memory. “Breathe through your mouth. It’ll help.”

I lingered near her neck, unable to pull away, drawn by something I couldn’t quite name. I tried to find the words to describe her scent—something fresh, like the morning air spilling through an open window��but words failed me. I’d caught a hint of it earlier when I held her close at the sink, but now, in the confined space of the ER, it enveloped me, bringing back echoes of happier times.

Y/N smelled good—no, different. Refreshing, like the world waking up after a long sleep. And I was trapped in this moment, lost in the intoxicating blend of her presence and the sterile smell of antiseptic.

Every time she flinched, my instinct was to lash out at Doogie. I wanted to punch him for every wince that slipped from her lips, but I knew that wouldn’t help; it might just make things worse. I fought against the urge to ask the nurse for someone else to help her, terrified to leave her side. So I stayed, fingers entwined with hers, trying to offer some measure of comfort in the storm of uncertainty.

When Doogie finished and began to bandage her hand, I felt a wave of relief wash over me as she released her grip. I stepped back, taking a breath that felt heavy in my chest. Tension still coiled inside me; I hated that she’d gotten hurt, but a part of me marveled at her resilience. Despite her aversion to blood, she had held herself together with a strength I hadn’t given her credit for. There was more to Y/N than I realized, and that realization struck me hard.

“Listen, I’m really sorry,” I said once we were back in the car, the weight of guilt pressing down on me.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault I’m such a klutz.” She offered a radiant smile that twisted my insides with guilt all over again.

“So, what happened?�� I asked tentatively, hoping against hope that this wasn’t really my fault.

“I was carrying a rack of test tubes when that thing started shooting vapor out. I freaked out. I thought it was going to explode! So I dropped the tubes and cut my hand trying to pick them up,” she admitted, embarrassment creeping into her voice as she stared down at her hands.

I should have known...

“Shit…” I thumped my head against the steering wheel, frustration bubbling up inside me.

“Hey, stop.” Her hand reached up to my shoulder, a gentle gesture that only deepened my self-loathing. “You couldn’t possibly have known that thing was going to start leaking, right?” I peeked at her, guilt etched on my face. She scrutinized me, her brow furrowing as realization dawned. “You did know, didn’t you?” Her hand dropped from my shoulder, and I felt the accusation hanging between us like a thick fog.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” I said earnestly, trying to convey the depth of my regret, how much I hated myself for her injury.

“You’re unbelievably cruel!” she shot back, eyebrows knitting together as she glared at me.

She was right, but I felt compelled to explain. “There wasn’t any risk of you getting hurt. The door just leaks a little vapor. I was going to close it after you got scared. It was a stupid joke, Y/N. You weren’t supposed to get hurt.”

“Well, excuse me for ruining your prank,” she snapped, rolling her eyes and turning away from me.

Sarcasm. Just lovely.

“I am truly sorry. Can you forgive me?” I asked, keeping my gaze on her even though she pointedly avoided me.

“Whatever, Yoongi.” She shrugged, irritation radiating from her as she stared out the window.

I wanted to tell her she was acting like a child, but I held my tongue, knowing that teasing her wouldn’t help my case. Instead, I focused on driving, ruminating on how to make this right again.

How the hell do I fix this?

“Stay here. I’ll be right back,” I said to Y/N, trying to sound calm even though a knot twisted in my stomach as I parked in front of the research building.

“This is really not necessary, Yoongi. I’m fine,” she replied, brushing off my concern.

“Y/N, can you please, just for once, not contradict me?” I shot back, frustration bubbling under the surface.

“I never contradict you!” she protested, eyes wide in disbelief.

I fixed her with a glare until the tension between us shifted, and a small smile broke through her pout as I climbed out of the car. Maybe I was getting through to her, even just a little.

I dashed into the lab to grab her bag, but was abruptly halted when I spotted Jimin hunched over her bench. An urge to warn Y/N about the mess brewing in the autoclave room hit me hard. 

“Jimin?” I called, feeling an unusual tension in the air as he turned to me, eyes wide like I’d just spoken an alien dialect. We rarely exchanged more than necessary pleasantries. “There’s a big mess in the autoclave room. I’ll be right back to clean it up.”

“And you’re telling me this why?” he shot back, still looking as confused as a cat in a dog park.

“There’s a bunch of glass… I don’t know. My undergrad—she dropped the tubes. I—” The words tumbled out in a jumbled mess, and Jimin continued to stare at me like I’d just pulled a rabbit out of a hat. “Never mind,” I muttered, eager to escape the awkwardness.

“How’s that for a change? First, you have her doing your chores, and now you’re cleaning up after her,” he called after me.

I spun around to glare at him, irritation sparking. Sure, he was right, but I had bigger problems than petty lab gossip. I left him behind, shaking off the encounter.

When I climbed back into the car, Y/N was waiting for me, eyebrow raised, holding a CD case. My stomach dropped as I recognized it—my mom’s treasured Carpenters album.

“Really, Yoongi?” she asked, her smile widening. “The Carpenters? Okay, cool.” She casually tucked the CD case back into the glove box.

She was teasing me—smiling at me. That had to be a good sign, right? Maybe she had forgiven me after all.

I couldn’t help but let my gaze linger on her face, how her smile lit up the whole car. It was stunning; how had I never noticed it before? A pang of regret hit me for all the moments I had let slip by.

“Are you okay?” Y/N’s voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to reality.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just—uh, how’s your living situation?” I mumbled as I started the car and drove off, reminding myself to keep it together. She’s just an undergrad, I thought, shaking off the flutter in my stomach.

As I parked in front of her building, my chest tightened again. I was still angry—mostly at myself—for letting her get hurt. I wouldn’t feel at ease until she was safely tucked inside her apartment.

“Are you still dizzy?” I asked, unable to hide the concern in my voice.

“I think I’m all right now,” she replied, a small grin dancing on her lips.

Would it be weird if I walked her to her door? Did guys still do that? It had been ages since I’d been on a date. What was the protocol these days?

What the hell am I thinking? This isn’t a date.

But she didn’t look a hundred percent. Maybe carrying her bag would help. I climbed out of the car, and she shot me a bewildered look as I opened her door.

“I’ll feel better once I know you’re safe inside,” I insisted, my voice firm.

“I’m fine. You don’t hav—”

“Please, humor me,” I interrupted.

Y/N hesitated, then took my hand as she stumbled out of the car. I grabbed her backpack, and we walked inside together, a strange sense of connection warming the air between us.

At her door, she paused, her hand hovering over the doorknob. When she turned to look at me, her brown eyes sparkled with something I couldn’t quite pin down.

“I’ll see you Tuesday then,” I said, handing her the bag.

“Yes. Tuesday.” Her gaze flickered up through her long lashes, and I was momentarily mesmerized. “Not Monday.” A playful grin crept across her face, and I felt my breath catch at the sight of her eyes crinkling with delight. “You know why not Monday?”

I was still entranced by her smile and completely missed the point she was trying to make. “Because rainy days and Mondays always get me down,” she said, and heat rushed to my cheeks.

Great… she’s making fun of me.

I took a deep breath and snorted, forcing myself to look away from her lips. “You’re such a dork, Y/N. How long have you been waiting to say that?”

“Too long.” Her giggle sent my heart racing, a rhythm I couldn't ignore.

“Good night, Y/N,” I replied, managing a smile despite my racing heart.

As I walked back to my car, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window and was horrified to find myself grinning like a fool. I frowned and climbed inside, but before I could drive away, I pulled my mom’s CD from the glove box, popped it in, and began to hum along.

Why do birds suddenly appear… every time… you are near?

I slammed on the brakes and hit the eject button.

Holy shit, what the hell is wrong with me?

Thankfully, when I returned to the lab, Jimin was gone. I started cleaning up the autoclave room, picking up shards of glass and mopping away the blood from the floor. As I worked, I spotted Y/N’s lab coat next to the sink, and my heart sank. It didn’t look festive anymore; it resembled a tattered Halloween costume.

Shit… She loved that ridiculous thing, and now it was ruined.

Before I knew it, I found myself washing the lab coat. I tried everything, even bleach. When I was done, the blood stains had vanished, but so had the whimsical bacteria drawings she’d painstakingly decorated it with.

Fuck my life...

When Hoseok called, I told him the chances of me making it to Serena’s party were slim. “I’m stuck in the lab and still have a long way to go,” I said, leaving out the details of my time spent doodling on a lab coat that now looked like a toddler’s art project. I also didn’t mention that I was starting Y/N’s experiment along with my own.

After inspecting the now-ruined lab coat, I realized I couldn’t give it back to her. Tossing it felt wrong, though—I’d just spent hours on the damn thing. So, I wrapped it in a plastic bag and tucked it under my desk, trying to forget it existed.

I left the lab after two in the morning, exhausted but restless. My mind buzzed with thoughts, not about experiments this time, but about Y/N—how she had gotten hurt because of me, and yet she hadn’t unleashed her fury. Somehow, she felt bigger than this. Bigger than me.

God, I’ve been such an asshole.

Images of her haunted me throughout the night. The way she smiled at my lame jokes, how she laughed at my terrible rendition of “Every Breath You Take.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sung to someone, not since my mom had forced me to sing The Carpenters with her. I turned over in bed, a smile creeping onto my face at the memory.

I didn’t have to be a jerk to Y/N anymore. I didn’t want to be. It wasn’t her fault grad school was a pain. If anything, having her around made it bearable. Maybe I could lighten up a bit… or maybe we could both learn something from this. No, I wanted to be nicer to her. I wanted to see her smile.

I want to make her smile?

First The Carpenters, now this?

When did I turn into such a marshmallow?

Monday night in the dingy gym felt like a scene straight out of a bad movie. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a harsh, sterile glow that did nothing to uplift the atmosphere. Hoseok and I were at the bench press, trading off sets like two battered soldiers in a war that would never be chronicled. I stood behind him, bracing for the weight, but my gaze was pulled away, caught in the orbit of something infinitely more captivating.

There she was—Y/N—effortlessly gliding on the treadmill like she was born to run. Her ponytail swung rhythmically with each stride, a pendulum marking the time as she jogged. My breath hitched, a tightening in my chest as I let my eyes wander down her back, tracing the delicate curve of her spine. And then—oh God—those shorts. Tiny and black, they hugged her body in a way that made my heart race uncontrollably.

The fabric didn’t just cling; it cradled her curves, indenting just enough in the middle to draw the eye downwards. I could almost feel the heat radiating off her skin, my mind spiraling into places I really didn’t want it to go.

“Dude! Hold the bar, would ya?” Hoseok’s voice jolted me from my daze. I blinked hard, shaking off the spell as I refocused on the weights pressing down on him.

“Right, sorry,” I mumbled, fumbling with the bar as I lifted it off him.

Hoseok wiped the sweat from his brow, the glistening drops catching the unforgiving light. I tried desperately to keep my thoughts in check, to suppress the smirk that threatened to creep onto my face, but my eyes betrayed me, fixating once more on Y/N’s ass as it bounced with every determined step on the treadmill.

“What is it?” Hoseok shot me a sideways glance, amusement dancing in his eyes. He knew. Damn him. “You look like a kid in a candy store.”

“Nothing,” I shot back, the word cracking like ice beneath my weight. I raked a hand through my hair, feeling more like a deer caught in headlights than a man. “That’s... um... that’s my undergrad.”

“Your undergrad?” He nearly shouted, and I winced at the volume.

“Shut up!” I hissed, heat creeping up my neck.

“She’s your undergrad?” He lowered his voice, his tone conspiratorial, as if we were discussing some top-secret mission.

“Yes,” I said, willing myself to tear my gaze from Y/N and muster some semblance of composure. “I don’t know why she’s here. This is the first time I’ve seen her in this gym.”

“Are you kidding?” Hoseok replied, incredulous. “She’s here all the time! You’ve just never noticed because you’re practically blind.”

My eyes darted back to her. She was still running, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing behind me. Could Hoseok really be right? Had I been so wrapped up in my own world that I hadn’t seen her before?

But then again, I didn’t recognize anyone else in this place. I came here every day—every damn day—and not one face looked familiar. Blind. I was completely blind.

And yet, here I was, rooted to the spot, entranced by the hypnotic sway of her hips, the way her legs flexed with each determined stride. It was as if she had cast a spell over me, one I didn’t want to break. But I had to; I was standing there like a moron, the weight of Hoseok’s gaze a smirk stretched across his face as he shifted to take his place on the bench.

“Yoongi!” he called, pulling me from my daydream. “It’s your turn.”

I shook my head as if waking up from a fog and stepped to the bench, but my mind remained tangled in thoughts of what I’d just seen. Y/N’s form, bouncing like it was teasing me, was too much. Too distracting. My body was responding in ways I hadn’t felt in years, and it took every ounce of willpower to focus on lifting weights instead of ogling her.

Then, as if she sensed my eyes on her, Y/N turned her head slightly, her gaze locking with mine. For a brief moment, the world melted away—the gym, the weight, the noise—all faded into the background as our eyes met. She faltered on the treadmill, her grip tightening on the bars like a lifeline before she recovered just in time.

What was I doing? I didn’t realize I was moving until I stood beside her, the tension thick enough to slice through the air.

“Hi,” I managed, the word slipping out like a confession.

“Hi?” Her smile lit up the stale space between us, brightening everything. “Who are you and what did you do to my bitter grad student?”

“What?” I stammered, disbelief knotting my stomach. “You’ve seen me here before?”

*Her eyes rolled in a way that was both exasperating and endearing. “Yes.”

“Well, I’m saying hi now. So, hi.”

“Hi…” she giggled, and I felt a low groan bubble up from my chest. What was happening? I hated how she made me feel, how she toppled everything I thought I had under control.

“How’s your hand?” I asked, grasping for something to anchor myself in this whirlwind of emotions.

“It’s fine,” she said, lifting her bandaged hand like it was a trophy. But I was lost, mesmerized by the way her lips moved, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, and how the sweat glistened on her skin.

I needed to leave before my body betrayed me further. “Um, I should go,” I interrupted, offering a shaky goodbye as I fled, a whirlwind of confusion and unwanted desire crashing over me.

What the hell was happening to me?

I ran home, my legs pumping, heart racing, trying to outrun the chaotic thoughts swirling in my mind. It had been four years since Estelle, and the memory felt as distant as a long-forgotten dream. But Y/N was everywhere now, invading my thoughts—her freckles, her laugh, those bangs that had once annoyed me but now framed her face like a masterpiece.

I stormed through my apartment, shedding my sweat-soaked clothes, bewildered by this tempest of feelings. I couldn’t fathom why it had taken me so long to notice her, why she had pierced through the fog of my indifference and settled in my mind like an unwelcome guest.

In the shower, the warm water cascaded over me, soothing yet insufficient to wash away the turmoil. She was a kid, for Christ’s sake! Nineteen? Twenty? Too young, too innocent for someone like me. I banged my head against the tiled wall, cursing my own weakness.

And yet, even as I stood there, I could feel her presence lingering, like a ghost clinging to the edges of my consciousness—a haunting I couldn’t shake. Was I becoming one of those men who pursued young girls, crossing lines drawn in the sand, sliding down that slippery slope of desire? The universe had a wicked sense of humor.

God, I hoped I wouldn’t see her again at the gym. The very thought sent a chill down my spine—a mix of longing and guilt. But there I was, fantasizing about her hands instead of my own.

When did I become such a creep?

I’m in a foul mood. Not a glimmer of sunshine inside me, just the dense fog of irritability that seems to thicken the air around me. Maybe it’s the weight of the world pressing down on my shoulders, or maybe it’s just Tuesday. Either way, I know I’ll probably regret having lunch with Hoseok today, but deep down, I’m still holding onto the hope that, by some miracle, he didn’t notice my bizarre behavior at the gym last night.

As I step into the lunchroom, Hoseok’s voice slices through the stillness. “What the heck happened to you yesterday?”

Well, so much for miracles.

“Nothing. Why?” I try to sound casual as I toss my food into the microwave, but my heart races in protest.

“Nothing? You nearly killed me, bolted off to talk to Y/N, and then stormed out. That seems normal to you?” He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous grin stretching across his face.

I shrug, feigning indifference, but my stomach twists.

“We were supposed to have drinks with Serena and her friend with the—” he gestures dramatically, “the big personality.”

“Listen, you and Serena need to stop setting me up with her friends.”

“Why? Did you take a vow of celibacy or something?”

“I’m just not in the mood for this today, Hoseok.” I plop down in a chair, my food forgotten.

“Is it because of Y/N?” he asks, cheeks bulging with half-chewed food.

“No,” I reply, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “And her name is Y/N, by the way.”

“OH. MY. GOSH. It is! You’re totally crushing on her!” Hoseok leaps from his chair, fork aimed at me like a weapon. His eyes widen as if he’s just uncovered a major conspiracy.

“What? NO!”

“Dude, you remembered her name!” He plops back down beside me, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Hoseok, what does that—”

“Oh man. This is too good... like, really, really good.” His grin is the kind that makes me want to punch him—or maybe just smack some sense into him.

“Hoseok, please. Just for one day…” I rub my forehead, trying to ease the confusion tightening my temples. The last thing I need is Hoseok’s theories swirling around my mind like a chaotic storm.

“Okay, okay…” He continues to chew, stealing glances at me every few seconds. “So, when’s Yoonji coming?” he asks, smirking, and I shoot him a glare that could curdle milk.

So what if I remembered her name? It hardly means anything. I’ve been working with her for weeks now. I’m not some clueless idiot; I can remember a name. I don’t care what Hoseok or Yoonji think. This is nothing. This doesn’t mean anything.

Except it does. Because Y/N, not “the girl” or “the undergrad,” is going to be in the lab when I return. And I’m not just aware of it—I’m looking forward to it. I want to see her smile, to hear her laugh.

I want to hear her giggle? Jesus, I need to get a grip on myself.

My bad mood evaporates the moment I spot Y/N at my bench, scribbling away in her notepad. Her hair cascades over her shoulder, wild and free. It should bother me—should send alarm bells ringing—but it doesn’t. It looks soft and inviting, and suddenly, all I want is to run my fingers through it.

Okay… I’ve really lost it now.

And just like that, my bad mood crashes back in.

“I can’t find my lab coat,” she says, tying her hair up with an intensity that almost makes me envious.

I feel a spark of irritation at the safety rules that dictate her hair must be tied back. I find myself imagining the kinds of experiments that would allow her to leave it down, just so I could watch it flow freely.

“Do you know where it could be?” she asks, glancing up at me.

I’ve completely lost track of her words, staring at her blankly.

“My lab coat?” she repeats, tilting her head.

Right… the lab coat.

“Let me get you a new one. That one was all covered in blood.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll wash it.”

“We have lab coats here, Y/N—new ones. I’ll get you one,” I say, moving past her, determination pushing me forward.

She stops me, grabbing my elbow. “Please, can I have my old one back?” Her eyes are wide and earnest, as if I hold the key to some sacred treasure.

A flush of embarrassment rises in me, and instead of confessing, I lie. “I threw it away.”

“What? Why?” Her gaze pierces through my flimsy excuse.

“It was covered in blood!” I bark, frustration bubbling over.

“I could have washed it!” she snaps, defiance igniting her eyes.

“I’m getting you a new one.”

“I don’t want a new one. Is this some cruel joke? Because if it is, I’d really, really like my lab coat back. It means a lot to me.” The shift in her expression from anger to sadness tugs at something deep within me. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, like I’ve just crushed her puppy.

Realization washes over me like a cold wave: I’m making her cry. With a deep sigh, I relent. “Okay, I didn’t get rid of it.”

“Oh thank God,” she breathes, closing her eyes in relief.

“But… I tried to wash it, and the bloodstains wouldn’t come out. I thought it would be a good idea to use bleach. And it was. I mean, it got rid of the bloodstains, but it also erased your drawings.”

“Oh no…” Her eyes fly open, panic etching her features.

“I’m sorry. Can I please get you a new one?” I plead, hoping to smooth over this disaster before it spirals further.

“I would really prefer to have my old one back,” she insists, crossing her arms defiantly, her gaze unwavering.

Jesus! Why does she have to be so difficult?

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” I groan. She’s staring at me like she’s just won the lottery, and I can’t bring myself to back down. “Fine…” I reach under my desk for the bag containing her lab coat and hand it over, feeling like I’m offering her a corpse.

I should have burned the damn thing.

Her gasp as she pulls the coat from the bag makes my stomach drop.

“Oh my gosh!” She turns it around, inspecting the shapes I drew in a moment of misguided creativity. When she spots my pathetic attempt at rewriting “Bacteria Rule” on the back, she giggles, and I swear my heart stumbles.

How do I keep up with her?

One minute, she’s annoyed; the next, she’s crying; now, she’s laughing. It’s like watching a storm change directions on a whim.

“You… did you do this?” She glances up at me, her eyelashes still damp, and my chest tightens painfully.

“Yeah, it looks even more ridiculous now. Didn’t think that was possible. Would you please let me get you a new one?”

“Oh no. I’m wearing this one,” she chirps, slipping her arms into the sleeves like she’s donning a crown.

“Please say you’re kidding.”

“What? It’s perfect!” she beams, buttoning the coat closed, that radiant smile piercing through my irritation.

Even as she parades around in that god-awful coat, all I can think about is pulling her close and kissing her senseless. It’s ridiculous and utterly baffling, but I can’t shake it.

I really must have lost it now.

The morning air felt heavy, thick with a strange malaise that weighed on me like a thick blanket. "So, what's on the agenda for today, Boss?" Y/N chirped, her pen clicking in a cheerful rhythm as she flipped open her notebook, the sound almost irritatingly upbeat.

"Don’t call me Boss," I grumbled, trying to shake off the oppressive darkness that seemed to cling to me like damp fog.

"Okay, Grumpy. What are we doing today?" Her smile was a bright spark against the backdrop of my brooding mood.

I could tell she was trying to be funny, deliberately poking at my irritation. With an exasperated huff, I shoved the list of activities at her. "Try not to mess up this time, Becca."

She took the list with a theatrical pout, and I stifled a real smile beneath my carefully crafted mask of indifference—a skill I'd perfected over the years. 

Her brow furrowed as she scanned the list. "I thought I was starting from scratch."

"You are," I replied, trying to keep my tone as casual as possible.

"But you did all these steps already." She pointed to the initial tasks, her voice laced with disbelief.

"I was bored Saturday," I said, as if boredom were an acceptable excuse for taking the initiative.

Her eyes darted between the list and mine, a spark of awe lighting up her face. "You started my experiment for me?"

The way she looked at me made my skin crawl—a mixture of discomfort and something warmer I didn’t want to acknowledge. I clamped down on my tongue, suppressing the urge to explain myself. 

"You better get cracking, Y/L/N. There's a seminar at four I want to attend."

Her gaze lingered on me a moment longer before she shook it off, returning to her notebook. A sense of relief washed over me. 

We worked in silence, but I could feel her stealing glances at me like a kid peeking into a haunted house. I knew—I just knew—I had crossed some invisible line. What I felt was tangled, a confusion I was desperate to untangle.

"What’s the seminar about?" she asked, her voice light with curiosity as we carried bottles of growth media to the incubators.

"I don’t know," I said, holding the door for her as we entered the incubator room.

"Then why are you going?" She squatted to stow the bottles inside, her dark hair falling around her face like a curtain.

"Free food." I shrugged, trying to sound indifferent.

"Seriously?" She looked up at me, disbelief written all over her features.

"Y/N… if you go to grad school, you’ll learn to appreciate the majesty of free food."

When she stood up, she released my hand with a huff, her pride surfacing. "When I go to grad school, I’ll enjoy the seminars, even without the free food."

"Right…" I turned away, shaking my head.

"So, can I come?" she asked shyly, her voice nearly drowned out by the hum of the incubators.

"You want to come to the seminar?" I shot her a skeptical glance.

"Hells to the yeah!" 

I suppressed a snort, the surprise of her enthusiasm bubbling up inside me. "Why?"

"I might learn something."

"Okay, you can come, but the la-la-lab coat stays." 

The thought of her actually being excited about attending a seminar with me sent a strange thrill through my chest, one that both excited and unnerved me.

As we made our way to the seminar, Y/N rattled on about her dreams for grad school, her voice bubbling over with energy. I struggled to interject, her words flowing like a vibrant stream, full of life.

When we reached the seminar room, she shook her head at my heaping plate of food. I settled into my seat, grateful for the chance to hide from the annoyed glances of the people behind us. Y/N plopped down beside me, her nervous energy radiating from her.

"That one with the sweater vest is Prof. Waylon," I said, nodding toward him. "He has a serious case of narcolepsy. Snores through the entire talk but wakes up right on cue to ask the hardest questions."

She giggled, and the sound pierced through the fog that had settled around me.

"And over there, with the red bow tie, is Dr. Amun-Kebi. Brilliant but completely bonkers—he discovered Quorum Sensing, yet can’t make eye contact because he’s too busy staring at the ceiling."

She snorted, laughter bubbling up as she covered her mouth, her joy infectious.

"Then there’s Jin," I continued, "who dresses like he’s going to a board meeting every day. Knows more adjectives than a thesaurus, but his favorite is definitely 'fascinating.'"

I mimicked Jin’s exaggerated tone, and Y/N laughed again, drawing some disapproving throat-clearing from the folks behind us.

"Main point is, Y/N," I said, "science makes you lose your mind. You’ve been warned."

"Oh, I think I can handle it," she replied, winking at me, and my heart twisted painfully in my chest.

As the speaker began, I couldn't help but chuckle when I noticed her furiously scribbling notes as if her life depended on it.

Once the seminar ended, we returned to the lab. Y/N still had work to catch up on after being away for an hour. I’d finished my tasks long ago, but I lingered, a shadow in the corner, unwilling to leave her alone in this sterile, fluorescent-lit space.

She closed her notebook with a satisfying smack and turned to me, her eyes bright. "This is so exciting! I can’t wait to see if it works this time."

"Yeah, you’ll get over it," I said, trying to keep my tone light.

"Have you always been such a grump? Or was there a time when you actually liked what you do?"

Her question hit me like a punch to the gut, catching me off guard. I could feel her gaze piercing through my defenses.

"I like what I do."

"Do you love it?"

Her question hung in the air like a dark cloud, and I found myself lost in a maze of memories, the joy of discovery overshadowed by the weight of expectations. Had there ever been a time when I shared her enthusiasm?

"I don’t really remember," I mumbled, avoiding the truth. "It’s getting late, Y/N. How are you getting home?"

"I’m walking."

"I’m walking too. Let’s go."

Did I used to love what I did? The memory felt elusive, slipping through my fingers like water.

As we walked, Y/N asked, "Why did you decide to go to grad school?"

"Why does anyone?" I shot back, a cryptic smirk teasing my lips.

"To make a difference? To revolutionize the field?"

"Very cute, Y/N."

"It’s not cute. It’s true."

"Is that why you want to go to grad school?"

"Yes. I’ve always wanted to help people. Since medical school is out of the question for me—"

"You’ll get over the smell of blood, Y/N."

"It’s not just that. I get too attached. I’d rather contribute silently from the lab." She smiled, her eyes sparkling. "Plus, where would medicine be without science? They’d still be pouring hot oil into wounds!"

I chuckled, a genuine laugh bubbling up like warmth breaking through winter’s chill. "You’re funny." The words slipped out before I could think better of it, and before I could process my thoughts, my fingers brushed against her arm, lingering over the fabric of her hoodie.

She halted, her cheeks tinged pink, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

I froze, my hand dropping to my side, panic racing through me. That had to be inappropriate.

"I’ve been called worse," she joked, her smile radiating a warmth that sent shivers down my spine.

We walked on in silence until we reached her building.

"Do you live on campus too?" she asked, fishing for her keys from her bag.

"No. I live in Portage Bay."

"Oh… we passed that already."

"I know."

Suspicion flared in her gaze as she pieced things together, and I felt the weight of my own guilt creeping up on me. She would realize I was that gross old grad student trying to woo the sweet, naive undergrad—the very person I had mocked in others. The thought made my stomach churn.

"I know what you’re doing," she accused, crossing her arms defensively.

Here it comes…

"You feel guilty because I got hurt," she said, her voice steady. "You feel responsible. But you don’t have to do this."

Is that really what she thought?

"You think I’m walking you home out of guilt?" My voice was harsher than I intended, anger bubbling up inside me.

"I know you are."

"You don’t know anything," I spat, turning away, desperate to escape the rising tide of emotions threatening to drown me.

"Yoongi, wait!" she called after me, dread washing over me.

Keep walking… don’t look back.

I couldn’t believe she thought I was being nice out of guilt. I had done nothing but act like a jerk for too long, and now I was about to lose the only flicker of light stupid, lonely world.

God, she had no clue.

Wednesday morning felt heavy with an unsettling quiet when Y/N arrived at the lab a little earlier than usual. I was already there, lurking like a shadow in the corner, unable to shake off the ghosts of a sleepless night. I busied myself with the equipment, clinging to the hope that keeping my distance would somehow quell the anger simmering beneath my skin.

It was confusing, really. I was furious with her—not just because of the injury that haunted my thoughts like a ghost, but because she had twisted my kindness into something it wasn’t. Sure, I felt like a hollow shell, the guilt gnawing at my insides like a rat in a rotting wall, but that didn’t mean I didn’t enjoy walking her home. Yesterday’s seminar had been a strange kind of fun—the first I’d experienced in what felt like ages.

As I returned to the lab, pretending to check something in my desk drawer, I caught her gaze from across the bench. The way her eyes followed me stirred something deep inside, a mix of frustration and longing I couldn’t quite place. I tried to slip away, but as I turned to leave, her fingers brushed against my elbow.

“Hey, I’m sorry about yesterday,” she said, her voice soft and sincere, those puppy-dog eyes piercing through my defenses. Warmth rushed through me, a strange blend of emotions swirling inside. “It was really nice of you to walk with me. Thank you.”

With a timid smile, she released my arm, leaving me reeling, torn between the urge to pull her back and the need to retreat. Just then, I caught sight of Jimin, his piercing blue eyes wide with suspicion from the shadows of the lab. What the hell?

“You’re welcome,” I muttered dryly to Y/N, my voice almost a growl, before storming away, seeking refuge from the chaos in my head.

In the media preparation room, I paced like a caged animal, cracking my knuckles repeatedly to chase away the madness. This was absurd. I was losing it over a girl—an undergrad—who seemed blissfully unaware of the tempest she stirred within me. Deep breaths. Focus. But I knew this strange obsession wasn’t going anywhere.

When I returned to the lab, I found Jungkook leaning casually against my bench, chatting with Y/N. She wore that timid smile again, twisting something inside me. My hands curled into fists, rage and jealousy flaring up like a wildfire.

“I’ll see you Friday,” Jungkook said, flashing a grin as he sauntered past me. Did he just ask her out? The urge to grab him by the ponytail and shove him to the floor was overwhelming. “What did he want?” I spat, unable to contain the fury boiling within.

“Nothing,” she replied innocently, her attention flitting back to her notebook as if she hadn’t just tossed gasoline on my fire.

“Y/N,” I hissed, slicing through the air with my words, demanding her attention. “What did he want?”

“Nothing important,” she clarified, but her eyes locked onto mine, searching. My resolve wavered. What the hell was wrong with me? The desire to pummel Jungkook quickly transformed into an intense longing to press my lips against that bottom lip she kept biting. The confusion swirled around us, thick and suffocating, and I felt trapped.

Just then, Jimin reentered the lab, breaking the spell that had ensnared us. I stepped back, the tension snapping like a brittle twig, and Y/N sighed, disappointment heavy in the air.

“Are you done?” I asked, my voice cold, each word laced with the weight of my internal turmoil. “I need to use the bench.”

Hurt flickered in her eyes before she masked it, and guilt settled in my stomach like a stone. I tried to focus on my work, but her presence lingered, a distraction gnawing at my concentration until she finally left for the day. This is ridiculous! Why did she affect me so much? I couldn’t keep living like this.

Thursday afternoon arrived, and I maneuvered around Y/N like a ghost. I didn’t want to be a jerk, but the thought of her and Jungkook had me seething. It felt like every nerve in my body was on fire, irritation coiling tighter with every passing second. I tried to stick to succinct answers and instructions, but the tension thickened around us like fog.

As we received her sequencing results, I could no longer pretend she didn’t exist. She pulled a chair next to me at my desk, her presence suffocatingly close. My fingers twitched on the mouse, nerves sparking as I avoided glancing her way. She tapped her pen rhythmically; each tap a countdown to my sanity.

“Please, stop that,” I groaned, frustration spilling over.

She halted instantly, a sigh escaping her lips, and my heart sank. I hated feeling this way—trapped between annoyance and an attraction that sent shivers down my spine. How was that even possible?

Finally, the software loaded, and I opened her file. Y/N gasped, and I held my breath as she leaned closer, the tension between us palpable.

“Sample 1. Ran well. Sample 2. Ran well… ran well, ran well, ran well…” All fifty samples had run flawlessly. Impressive. I couldn’t recall a time when every single sequencing reaction had succeeded; there was always a failure or two. Y/N was undeniably skilled.

As I turned to her, a smile crept onto my lips despite myself. Her eyes sparkled with joy, and before I could process it, she squeaked, throwing her arms around my neck. Her warmth enveloped me, her hair brushing against my face, and the world narrowed to just her, the scent of her shampoo intoxicating. My body responded in ways I couldn’t understand.

I shot up from my chair, breaking the spell. “Sorry,” she mumbled, her cheeks a deep crimson, laughter spilling from her lips. “I’m just so happy! They all worked!”

My heart raced, shock coursing through me as I struggled to regain composure. The pull I felt toward her was almost unbearable, thrumming like an electric wire, demanding release.

“Good job,” I managed, forcing my voice to remain steady. But as she smiled at me, her joy tearing through my carefully constructed barriers, I knew I was in deep trouble. I wanted to hold her again, to kiss her until the world faded away. God, I needed help.

As I turned to her, a smile crept onto my lips despite myself. Her eyes sparkled with joy, and before I could process it, she squeaked, throwing her arms around my neck, her warmth enveloping me, her hair brushing against my face. The world narrowed to just her, the scent of her shampoo intoxicating, my body responding in ways I couldn’t understand. 

God, I needed help.

You know those days when nothing seems to go right? When you drag yourself out of bed, and it feels like the universe is playing tricks on you, pushing you back with every step forward? Yeah, today is one of those days. A downright miserable Friday, and I can’t help but feel that the promise of the weekend is just a hollow consolation.

This morning was a disaster. I tossed and turned all night, haunted by thoughts of Y/N. Her smile flickered in my mind like a candle caught in the wind—warm and inviting one moment, then snuffed out the next. The irony is, while I’m relieved I won’t have to face her today, the gnawing uncertainty of whether she’s out with Jungkook weighs heavily in my stomach. Anger simmers beneath my skin, bubbling over in waves I can’t seem to control.

As I step into the lunchroom, the emptiness greets me, broken only by the taunting hum of the microwave. I slam my fist against its cold metal side, frustrated when it refuses to cooperate. It beeps at me, a cruel mockery in the sterile silence. I slam the door shut again, and my temper flares.

“What did the microwave do to you?” A familiar voice cuts through my frustration. It’s Hoseok, ever the jester, his amusement practically radiating off him.

“It’s broken,” I mutter, fingers still mashing buttons like a madman.

“Step away from the microwave,” he orders, a playful yet firm tone in his voice. In two quick moves, he’s heating up my food. “What’s up your ass?”

“Nothing,” I groan, flopping down in a chair with a defeated sigh. “Just one of those days.”

“Why?” 

“It’s just one of those days…” I can’t muster the energy to say more.

“Like, ‘Everything’s messed up and everyone sucks’?” He turns his baseball cap backward, bobbing his head as if ready to launch into a nu-metal anthem.

“Great, Hoseok. Quote Limp Bizkit. That’s really going to help.” I cut him off before he can get into full swing.

“Dude, you’re in a mood. What happened?” His eyes reflect genuine concern as he rummages through the fridge.

“Nothing,” I insist, rising to retrieve my Tupperware.

“Bullshit. I’ve known you for four years. This isn’t just a failed PCR kind of mood.” He crosses his arms, blocking my path.

Part of me wants to spill my guts, but the words feel lodged in my throat. Still, they tumble out. “If I tell you, can you at least try to be mature about it?”

“Mature is my middle name,” he grins, but I can’t help but scowl.

“Fine. It’s Y/N.”

“I knew it! I fucking knew it!” 

I bury my face in my hands, feeling the weight of his excitement pressing down on me. “What happened?” he whispers, leaning in, all ears.

“She’s... I don’t know.”

“Come on, man. I’m serious.”

“Yeah, she’s out with Jungkook.”

“Jungkook?” Hoseok’s voice rises as if he’s just spotted a raccoon in the hall.

“Jesus, Hoseok!” I hiss. “Keep it down!”

“Sorry.” His whisper is tinged with amusement. “Jungkook fucking Jeon?”

“Yes.” I take a deep breath, frustration bubbling over. “And she’s my undergrad.”

“Puh-lease. Who cares?” 

“I’m at least five years older than her,” I retort.

“The younger, the better.” He waggles his eyebrows, clearly enjoying this way too much.

“Disgusting.”

“Stop brooding, dude. Jeon’s got nothing on you. Go get your girl. She’s fine, and she was always checking you out at the gym—like I told you a thousand times.”

Y/N checking me out? No way. Hoseok’s just being delusional. I shake my head, dismissing his words. This fixation has to end. She’s just my undergrad. That’s all she’ll ever be—at least that’s what I keep telling myself.

Happy Hour. The name is ironic, a pathetic excuse for mingling—if you can even call it that. It never lasts an hour, and “happy” is a stretch, but hey, there’s free beer, so here I am. Alone in the corner, I down red cups like they might wash away the grime of the day. By the time Hoseok and Serena finally stroll in, I’ve polished off four.

“You’re here before us. That’s weird,” Serena quips as they approach.

“Thanks for the observation, Captain Obvious.” 

“What’s his problem?” Serena glares at Hoseok, arms crossed.

“He’s in a mood,” Hoseok replies, handing me another red cup that I chug.

“Why?” Her tone is whiny, as if I owe her an explanation.

“Lady problems,” Hoseok shoots back before I can stop him.

“Yoongi has lady problems?” Serena sounds incredulous, as if she’s just discovered a new planet.

“I’m standing right here!” My voice is louder than I intended, laced with irritation.

“So you like a girl, Yoongi. Not the end of the world. I mean, this self-imposed celibacy was bound to end someday. I just wish I knew who she is.” She twists the conversation back to herself, as always.

“It’s not just a girl. It’s his undergrad,” Hoseok interjects, unable to contain his enthusiasm.

“You old perv!” Serena playfully smacks my chest, and I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks.

“I’m going to get fired,” I murmur, tipping my cup back for the last drops of liquid courage.

“No, you won’t, drama queen.” She dismisses me with a wave, annoyance radiating off her.

“It happens all the time! PIs hit on post-docs, post-docs on grad students, grads on undergrads. What world do you live in?”

“It’s like a jungle,” Hoseok chuckles.

“Shut up, Hoseok,” Serena snaps. “Good news is, now that there’s this girl, you can stop with the emo bitterness. It’s getting old.”

“Fuck you, Serena.”

“Hey, hey now,” Hoseok says, grabbing my arm. “Let’s go get another round.”

When we return, my anger toward Serena simmers just beneath the surface, but I’m too tipsy to think straight. “For your information, Serena, this girl has a name. Her name is Becca. No, wait... it’s Y/N! Dammit!” My palm meets my forehead in a facepalm of pure embarrassment.

“Wow. She must be something special, Yoongi. You don’t even know her name.”

“Baby, stop. He’s drunk, and he’s having a shitty day.”

“Why?” 

“Y/N is out with Jungkook,” Hoseok explains.

“Jeon?” Serena’s expression shifts to one of shock, and they dive into speculation, completely oblivious to my presence.

I shut them out, groaning into my cup as I gulp it down. It’s true. I know it. Jungkook is with Y/N tonight, probably taking her to dinner and drinks, sharing laughs while I’m stuck here. My mind spirals into a dark abyss—what if he kisses her? What if she invites him in? God, I’m sick just thinking about it.

Of all the undergrads in this department, Jungkook Jeon had to go after mine. I hope Y/N gets drunk and spills her drink all over him.

Worst. Hangover. Ever.

Well, maybe not the worst, but it’s definitely up there. My head pounds like a jackhammer, and my stomach feels like a chaotic whirlpool of regret as I stumble into the shower. The hot water cascades over me, a fleeting relief, but all I can think about is how tempting sleep sounds right now. But I have things to do in the lab. Don’t I always?

The apartment is a total disaster zone—a messy tribute to last night’s antics. Red cups are scattered across the coffee table like the remnants of a forgotten battle, and chip crumbs litter the floor like confetti from a party that had long overstayed its welcome. Hoseok and Serena wouldn’t leave me alone last night, terrified I’d do something reckless, so we ended up bringing Happy Hour back to my place. I was just the third wheel, watching them get lost in their own world of laughter and flirting. By the time I woke up on the couch, blanketed by a pile of crumpled chips, they were long gone.

I shuffle into the library, desperate for my usual caffeine fix on the way to the lab, but my stomach is rebelling. Still, I know I’ll need that coffee to survive the day.

Inside, the library feels like a claustrophobic hive of undergrads buzzing around like over-caffeinated bees. It’s overwhelming.

What a nightmare!

I hurry to the coffee line, pouring sugar into my mug like it’s a lifeline. Just as I catch my breath, I spot her—Y/N—sitting at a table surrounded by a fortress of books. Her hair falls like a curtain, hiding her face from view. I can’t help myself; I’m drawn to her, like a moth to a flame.

“Hello, Y/N,” I say, sliding into the chair across from her.

She looks up, surprise flickering across her features, and for a moment, my heart races. 

“Oh, so I’m back to being Y/N?” There’s no hint of humor in her voice, only seriousness, and it feels like a punch to the gut.

What’s going on? Where’s the smile that usually lights up her face?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light as I settle in.

“What are you doing here?” she replies, her gaze cool and collected.

“Y/N, please go easy on me today. I’m not feeling great,” I admit, running a hand down my face, feeling every ache from the night before.

“Oh... what’s wrong?” Her stoic facade starts to crumble, replaced by genuine concern, and it warms me a bit.

“Too much beer,” I confess, and the word makes my stomach churn at the memory of my poor choices.

“I see... does that explain this?” She pulls out her phone and turns it toward me.

Grumpy: Becca, you’ve just revealed yourself to have absolutely no taste.

“Who the hell is Grumpy, and why does he call you Becca?” I blurt out, anger bubbling up before I can stop it.

Her eyes widen in disbelief. “You’re the only Grumpy I know.”

“Are you saying I sent you that text?” 

“Yes,” she says, sighing as her eyes drift away like leaves in the wind.

I pull my phone from my pocket, my heart sinking as I check my sent texts.

Well, great…

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, rubbing my eyes, wishing I could take back last night’s mistakes.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean either. No taste in what? Music? Food? Men?” 

“Men?” I let out a dry laugh. “Jungkook is not a man. He’s a tool.”

“So this is about Jungkook?” she says, gesturing to her phone.

“Yes.” My brain feels sluggish, like I’m moving through molasses.

“Why do you care?” 

“I’m uncomfortable with you dating my classmate,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to appear nonchalant.

“He’s not your classmate, and we’re not dating.”

“We both started our PhDs at the same time in the same program. That makes him my classmate… Wait… you’re not dating?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no. We went out for coffee, talked, he asked me out again, and I kindly declined. I’m focused on my studies right now, Yoongi, and I really don’t have room for anything more.”

“Oh…” Relief floods through me, even as my hangover rages on. I might even be smiling.

“Yes, oh indeed. Which brings me back to why you’re sitting here distracting me from my study session.”

“What are you studying?” I ask softly, a smile creeping onto my face, hoping to steer the conversation away from Jungkook.

“I have an organic chemistry exam on Monday.”

“Oh, I see…” I hesitate, but the temptation of spending time with her outweighs my growing pile of work in the lab. “Well, it might just be your lucky day, Y/L/N, because I happen to be an expert in all things organic chemistry.”

“You are?” Her lips curl into a small grin, and I feel a surge of relief wash over me. She’s back.

“I am…” I smile at her. “So, do you want some help?”

“I could use some help.”

Help… yeah… that’s what I’m here for… help.

For the next two hours, I guide Y/N through her organic reaction problem sets, all while ignoring my cooling coffee. She’s a quick study, soaking up the information, and I’m confident she’ll ace her test on Monday.

I keep my hands clasped between my knees—except when I need to draw reactions for her—wanting to hide how my fingers twitch every time she brushes her hair behind her ear.

Y/N is focused on her notebook, but the third time I yawn, she looks up at me.

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, just tired. Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Tell me about it… On average, I get about four hours a night.”

“Four hours? If I don’t get at least six, I get grumpy.”

“Grumpier than this?” she says, waving a hand at me, a smile teasing at her lips.

“This,” I gesture to my chest, “this is the five-hours-of-sleep me.” I stretch, feeling my muscles pull, and I notice her eyes trace down my torso before I quickly pull my shirt down.

Was Y/N checking me out?

“Anyway…” I scramble for a distraction. “It’s healthy to sleep eight hours. I’m all about being healthy.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re an old man.”

“Hey… I’m only twenty-five!”

She laughs, and before I can ask how old she is, her gaze shifts behind me, and I can sense her tension.

“Shit…” she whispers.

“What?”

“Remember that guy I told you about, Jonah Rodgers, the stalker?” Her voice drops to a near whisper, laced with panic.

I wrack my brain, trying to recall. Y/N had a stalker? She looks at me, and it’s clear she knows I’m lost.

“Just play along, please,” she whispers, scooting her chair closer to me. Her hand brushes my knee, and I’m startled by the tentative touch.

A vague memory flickers in my mind—her acting strange around me one day, but it’s obscured by the haze of regret and longing.

Y/N’s gaze is intense, making it hard to focus on anything else. She smiles shyly, then looks down before peeking at me through her thick lashes.

God, what is she doing to me?

I know she’s faking it, pretending for someone else—but I can’t help how my body reacts, how hyper-aware I am of her presence. My hand moves to her cheek, my thumb tracing her soft skin. She blushes, biting her lip, and it sends a jolt through me, a deep ache to pull her closer—bring her lips to mine.

Her hand slides from my knee, brushing my thigh, and I can feel a warmth stirring inside me.

This isn’t real… it can’t be.

She’s still staring at me, and I’m lost in her gaze, wondering what she’s thinking, if she feels it too.

But then, all too soon, her attention darts behind me again.

“He’s gone,” she breathes, relief washing over her. Her hand rubs my thigh one last time before she withdraws. “Thank you.”

I know I should let go, but I can’t. My hand remains on her face, my thumb tracing her cheek while my fingers tangle in the nape of her neck. Her expression shifts, confusion knitting her brow. She reaches for my hand, her fingers enveloping my wrist—her thumb brushing the top of my hand, once, twice—and then she smiles.

But she’s not looking at me seductively anymore. She’s looking at me like she doesn’t understand why I haven’t let go. And honestly? Neither do I.

I drop my hand from her face and stand abruptly.

“I better get to the lab,” I say, running a hand through my disheveled hair. “Good luck on your test.” Her eyes linger on me, confusion clouding her expression as I turn to leave.

I guess the show is over…

I spent the rest of the weekend in the lab, mostly because I had nothing better to do. It felt easier to throw myself into my work than to face the nagging thoughts of Y/N swirling around in my head. Pining after her felt wrong—she was just a kid, my intern, and whatever was brewing inside me needed to stop. I had to keep my distance.

When Y/N walked in on Tuesday, she looked a bit worn out. I wanted to ask her about the test, but I bit my tongue, forcing myself to act indifferent.

As the day wound down, she asked for my help, and I followed her into the dark room. She needed to cut different bands from an agarose gel to purify the DNA. Even though she knew how to use the UV light box, I guided her through the excising process.

Once inside the dimly lit room, Y/N flipped on the UV box and switched off the lights. I stood behind her, watching as her shaky hand hovered nervously over the gel, clutching the blade. 

"I think it’s safe to say that not going to medical school was the right choice for you," I teased, trying to keep the mood light despite the tension. "With those shaky hands, I wouldn't want you holding a scalpel near me."

"I had too much coffee today," she shot back, her tone sharp but playful.

"Right," I snorted, a grin breaking free.

"Shut up. You're making me nervous." I could almost hear her smile through her words.

"Here," I said, inching closer. I covered her hand with mine, steadying her fingers over the blade. "Relax," I suggested, hoping it would ease both our nerves.

Her proximity felt electric, as if the air around us vibrated with tension. The scent of her hair—fresh and unplaceable—danced under my nose, making my heart race. Y/N's hand trembled beneath mine as she turned to glance up at me. In the faint blue glow of the UV light, her features looked even more striking. 

"This is making it worse," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

I felt her warm breath against my neck, and everything inside me screamed that we were too close. I should step back. I needed to step back. But God, I wanted to kiss her. Nothing else mattered in that moment.

Her bewildered expression shifted as her eyes drifted from my gaze to my lips. My heart thundered in my chest as I watched her tongue trace the edge of her bottom lip before she began to nibble on it nervously.

Then, without thinking, I closed the distance and pressed my lips against hers.

I inhaled deeply through my nose, intoxicated by her sweet scent as my mouth enveloped her bottom lip. Y/N whimpered softly against me, turning her body to face mine. My hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer.

What was I doing?

I felt lost, unsure of how to proceed or how to stop. Reluctantly, I released her neck and gripped the bench for support, struggling against the rising tide of desire. All I wanted was to wrap my arms around her and pull her onto the counter, to lose myself in her warmth.

No, stop! This is wrong!

I broke the kiss, panting heavily. "Y/N…" I gasped. "Shit, I'm so sorry." I stepped back, needing space. She was breathing hard too. "I-I didn’t mean to do that. I shouldn’t have… Shit." My hands raked through my hair, searching for words that eluded me.

Then, with a single determined step, Y/N closed the distance. She grabbed my t-shirt and pulled me down to her level. Her lips collided with mine once more, and I felt her inhale sharply.

I was too tall, or she was too short; either way, I hunched over her as her legs wrapped around my hips, lifting her onto the countertop beside the UV box.

Her hands tangled in my hair, tugging in a way that made me groan into her mouth, while my own hands hovered uncertainly over her body, torn between desire and restraint.

Loud, insistent knocking on the door shattered the moment.

Y/N gasped, and her legs slipped from my sides. 

"I need to look at a gel, Yoongi. What’s taking so long?" Jimin's voice rang out.

Jimin… shit…

I groaned against Y/N's shoulder, gripping her thighs to steady myself. Her fingers remained tangled in my hair, and I felt dangerously close to losing it.

"We're cutting a gel, Jimin," I called out, taking a reluctant step away from Y/N. "Give me a fucking break," I muttered under my breath.

I heard Jimin huff through the door, and Y/N’s voice came low and tense. "What do we do?"

I didn't know about her, but I needed to get out of there. I was uncomfortable and desperately needed to regain control. I moved to the UV box, which was still glowing. Y/N jumped down from the bench as I grabbed the blade, cutting around the bands on the gel. I found it ironic that my hands were now shaking, yet I managed to do a decent job.

Once finished, I shut off the UV light and flicked the room lights back on. Y/N jumped a little, and though I was sure she was staring at me, I couldn’t meet her gaze—I wouldn’t.

I ran a hand through my hair and took a deep breath. "Take each piece of gel and put it in a single epi tube," I instructed, forcing myself to focus on anything but her. "You can follow the rest of the protocol at the bench."

"Yoongi," she whispered, urgency lacing her voice.

"I’ll be back in a bit," I said, my hand on the doorknob. I didn’t risk a glance at her, fearing that a single look would draw me back in. I opened the door and stormed out, nearly colliding with Jimin, who stood there with his arms crossed.

What the hell just happened?

A few moments later, I was outside the building. Rain hammered down, but I didn’t care. I wished I smoked, drank, or had any vice to help me calm down. I tried deep breaths to steady myself, but the rain only added to the chaos swirling inside me. I made it to the tree line behind the parking lot, leaning against a trunk with one hand while the other pressed against my chest, where my heart threatened to pound its way out. I was panting, sweating, and completely unraveling.

What the hell had I been thinking?

Well, clearly, I hadn’t been thinking at all.

God, I could still taste her on my lips.

I swallowed hard.

Y/N had the sweetest lips I’d ever kissed.

I was doomed.

This could ruin everything. I couldn’t let myself be distracted by Y/N like this. I had lost all control, and I didn’t know what would have happened if Jimin hadn’t knocked. Or worse, what if Y/N had opened the door without knocking? Thank God the light was off, and the “IN USE” sign was outside.

No one could know about this, especially not Jimin—he was Jin’s puppy! If Jin ever found out…

God, this was all so messed up!

I had to make it clear to Y/N—this had to stay between us. We had to pretend it never happened.

It would never happen again.

I could never have my lips on hers again—just the thought of it made my chest ache.

I had known kissing her would be good. She had the most beautiful lips I’d ever seen. They didn’t disappoint. Her kiss exceeded any expectation I had dared to dream. How could I endure not kissing her again, knowing how sweet she tasted?

If I thought it was torture to be around her before, now it was going to be hell.

And she had kissed me back. She had. It wasn’t just me. She wanted this too. Didn’t she know it was wrong? I needed to talk to her, to explain that this couldn’t happen again. We had to keep things professional, to work together without awkwardness. We had to manage that. I needed to manage that.

I wouldn’t look at her lips, or her smile, if that’s what it took. Maybe I could lie and say we needed to wear mouth masks for the rest of the project…

With a groan, I stepped away from the tree. I fisted my hair, realizing I was getting drenched, and walked back into the building. I shook my head to rid myself of some of the water, but I was still soaked when I climbed the stairs.

When I entered the lab, Y/N pretended not to see me, but I knew better. Her posture shifted, her back straightened, and the foot she had been tapping on the floor stilled.

I noticed Jimin was in the lab, standing at his bench across from Y/N, staring at her. It became clear to me that Y/N was putting on a show for him.

I sighed, feeling a little relief wash over me.

Y/N wouldn’t tell anyone—at least that much was clear.

But I still needed to talk to her. What happened was wrong and completely inappropriate. I couldn’t let her get the wrong idea.

I buried myself in my computer for a while, pretending to work by aimlessly scrolling and clicking, but my attention was entirely on Y/N. She seemed to move through the purification protocol without a hitch. What was going through her head?

Y/N strolled into the lab on Thursday, her smile cutting through the sterile, fluorescent gloom like a ray of sunlight. I gave her a nod—polite, detached—but that didn’t stop my heart from racing at the flicker of warmth in her gaze. As I turned back to my work, she let out a sigh that lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught her glancing at Jimin's empty bench, and the reminder of his absence hung like a storm cloud between us. 

"Okay," she began, hands planted defiantly on her hips. "Should we talk about this?"

I forced myself to meet her gaze, focusing on those deep, captivating eyes while battling the temptation to let my gaze wander to her lips, which seemed to whisper promises that drove me mad with longing. 

"There’s nothing to talk about, Y/N."

"Well, are you going to go back to being mean to me?" 

"I was never mean to you."

Her eyebrows shot up in disbelief, and heat crept into my cheeks as I remembered all the stunts I’d pulled—the pranks that had hurt her, the lab coat I’d ruined...

"I won't be mean to you again," I muttered, letting out a heavy sigh and looking at the floor.

"Yoongi..." Her voice was soft, almost melodic, and it tugged at my heart. 

When I met her gaze again, it was a mistake—her lip caught between her teeth was a distraction I didn’t need. My hands clenched into fists, seeking refuge in my pockets as her eyes searched mine, wary but hopeful, like a deer caught in the headlights.

"It won't be awkward, all right? I promise."

That smile of hers struck me like a bolt of lightning, forcing a groan deep within my chest. I could see the words dancing on her lips, ready to spill out, but they vanished like smoke when Jimin walked back into the lab. Taking advantage of the reprieve, I buried myself in my work, fighting to act normal.

But normalcy felt like a distant memory whenever Y/N was near. She moved through the lab with quiet grace, while I stood like a rock in a river of uncertainty, drowning in my thoughts.

As the day wore on and shadows lengthened, I noticed her gathering her things. Instinct kicked in—I pretended to be engrossed in my computer, watching her shuffle and fidget until she finally took a step toward me.

"Hey, Yoongi?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes?" I turned to face her, masking the turmoil inside.

"Um, I was wondering... I know I’m just an undergrad here, and there’s really no room for me to... I-I mean, I know it’s really not my place to ask, but..." Her words faltered, and the crimson blush creeping up her cheeks sent my heart racing.

"Y/N, would you get on with it? I don’t have all day." My frustration boiled over, the energy it took to be normal around her fraying my patience.

Her frown was instant, a storm brewing in those beautiful eyes. 

Shit, that was uncalled for...

"Never mind…" she sighed, disappointment echoing in the air.

"Wait." I took a breath, willing myself to soften. "I’m sorry. Please, Y/N, tell me."

She sighed again, a deep, resigned breath. "I know there’s that recruitment party this Saturday. It’s for prospective students to meet the current students in the department. And I know, I’m just the undergrad, but I think it would be great if I could meet them. You know? Hopefully, in a year, I’ll be going through recruitment myself." Her fingers twisted anxiously in front of her, a sight that both amused and strained my patience.

"Is there a question you wanted to ask?" I barked, the irritation bubbling to the surface.

"Yes…" she snapped back, indignation rising. "My question is: do you mind if I’m there?" She crossed her arms, defiance written all over her.

Why would I care if she came? I hadn’t even planned on attending that stupid party. But suddenly, the thought twisted in my gut, a knot tightening as a realization hit me.

I shot up from my chair, startling her. "Who told you about the party?"

Her eyes dropped, a sigh escaping her lips, and just like that, the truth hit me like a freight train. I fucking knew it.

"You’re going with Jungkook, aren’t you?" I took a step closer, looming over her.

"No, I’m not going with Jungkook." Her voice was steady, but her gaze flickered to meet mine. "But I’m going."

"Well, I guess I’ll see you there, then."

"Okay," she said with a nonchalant shrug, but the smile that graced her lips made my stomach twist. She turned to leave, and I felt something unravel within me—my hands instinctively reached out, fingers curling into frustrated fists. I didn’t know if I wanted to strangle her or pull her into a desperate embrace. All I knew was that I was left staring helplessly as she walked away.

I didn’t need her to say it; I knew Jungkook was behind this. She might not be going with him, but the thought of him lurking at that party made my blood boil. For the first time in a long while, I felt the gnawing sensation of jealousy eat away at my insides.

Fucking Jungkook Jeon.

I couldn’t believe I was even considering this.

Why did it matter if Y/N went to the recruitment party? It shouldn’t. Yet here I was, battling an angry tide rising in my chest, all because of that idiot Jungkook. If she were going with someone more acceptable—someone who didn’t make my skin crawl—I’d be okay with it. I should be okay with it. The rational part of my brain knew that, but the irritation overshadowed everything else.

What did she even see in Jungkook? The guy barely scraped by on his Qual after taking it twice and hadn’t published a single paper. He was working with fruit flies for crying out loud! And his personality? A brick wall. I couldn’t trust him. I didn’t like him. I couldn’t stand him.

I had to go to this party.

At lunch, against my better judgment, I decided to bring it up with Hoseok. 

"Hey, where’s the recruitment party this year?" I asked, trying to sound casual as I stabbed my fork into the mac and cheese.

"You’re going to the recruitment party?" Hoseok dropped his fork, suspicion etched across his face like a roadmap to his thoughts.

"Yes," I groaned, already regretting bringing it up. Of course, he’d make a fuss.

"To our department’s recruitment party?" He pressed a finger to his chest as if I’d committed a heinous crime.

"Why is that so hard to believe?" I shrugged, pushing the macaroni around in my bowl.

"Let me think… maybe because I’ve organized every single one since I got here, and you’ve never attended."

"Will you just answer my question?" I snapped, frustration boiling over.

"It’s at the South Campus Center, bro." Even though he finally answered, his gaze lingered, scrutinizing me like I was a specimen under his microscope.

"Great, thanks." I tried to keep my tone light, rolling my eyes at his obvious scrutiny.

"I can’t believe you’re going." A knowing smile danced at the corners of his lips, and I loathed it.

I pretended not to care, shrugging off the comment as he took a seat next to me. 

"If only I had known all it would take was an undergrad to get through you."

"This has nothing to do with Y/N," I spat, defensiveness creeping in, my irritation sharpening with each word. Her name was Y/N, not ‘the undergrad.’

"Right, so it’s just a coincidence… this is just the year you happen to decide to attend this thing."

"Yes."

"Is she going?" His eyebrow arched, mischief glinting in his eyes.

I groaned and turned away, pretending to be absorbed in my food.

"Dude, I can see it. How she’s affected you. It’s kind of obvious. You can talk to me, you know? It might help."

The breath I took was deep and shaky, every nerve ending igniting with frustration. But before I could stop myself, the words came pouring out. "She drives me crazy, Hoseok. I can’t stand it. I lose all control when I’m around her. I kissed her… I kissed her, and she said she doesn’t want to jeopardize her work in the lab. And it makes sense for her to think that. But the worst part is now I can’t stop seeing her everywhere. She’s in the lab, at the gym, at the freaking library where I get my coffee—she’s everywhere! I need to go back to not seeing her, because I can’t handle this." I stared down at my lunch, the food suddenly unappetizing, a lifeless pile of carbs.

"So you don’t want to see her?" Hoseok asked, surprisingly calm, like he was dissecting a specimen on his lab bench.

"Exactly."

"You don’t want to kiss her again?" He pushed, an amused grin creeping across his face.

"I don’t know what I want!" I barked, irritation flaring.

"Sounds to me like you want to go to the party, see her, and kiss her again. The question is, how are you going to deal with Jungkook?"

My shoulders tightened at the mention of his name, a cold shiver running down my spine. "I don’t care about him."

"I don’t know, man. It’s weird. The vibes are strange. You’re talking about her with a lot of… emotion."

"Emotion?" I snapped, but deep down, I felt the truth behind his words. I was at the mercy of my own feelings, a trembling wreck in the face of Y/N’s smile. I hated it. I wanted to turn it off. I couldn’t afford to feel anything.

"Fine," I muttered, sinking back into my chair, wishing to be swallowed by it.

"You’re going to have to confront those feelings eventually, Yoongi."

I grunted in response, refusing to admit he was right. I didn’t want to think about Y/N, and I definitely didn’t want to deal with Jungkook. All I wanted was to escape this mess, but deep down, I knew I was already trapped.

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[chaoticbardlady99]

I Wondered If I Could Come Home (Astarion x F! pregnant reader) (Part 3)

Synopsis: A hag has set her eyes on you and Eowyn- Astarion is determined to kill the damn thing.

CW: Mentions of child loss

Author note: Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are much appreciated!!!!

Picture does not belong to me! Please reach out to me if it is yours!

P.s. lightly edited

Month 8 has been blissful and going into your last month- you actually feel stronger than you have the entire time.

You sit on a bench, reading another book about babies (you save the Dhampir books for locations with less eyes), as Astarion throws a ball with Scratch and Wide Eyes (Karlach thought her name for the Owlbear was clever) in the local park. Astarion had been fed up with their zoomie shenanigans since they began earlier this morning. You wanted to go outside anyway- so it was perfect!

Eowyn kicks every so often to let you know that she is still there and doesn’t intend on leaving anytime soon, but overall, it’s been a really easy day. It’s fun to be able to watch Astarion enjoy such mundane life activities and it makes you realize how many simple things in your life that you have taken for granted.

You smile to yourself as you continue to read your book and you finally feel hungry enough to begin munching on the pastry Astarion bought you.

It was an apple cupcake and it was surprisingly very very yummy.

“My, my,” a scratchy voice says, “aren’t you a pretty little bred thing.”

You feel the hairs on your neck stand up and you turn very slowly to look at the elderly woman who stares at you with a look of hunger in her eyes. Oh- it’s the woman Astarion bought the cupcake from. She looked… friendlier earlier?

You don’t know why you feel like you are in danger all of a sudden, but your arms go over your stomach protectively- one of them ready to fire a cantrip if needed. The energy around her feels familiar, but different- you’ve been in the presence of this type of magic before, but you can’t remember when.

“You are that pretty girl that lives in the house with the dark curtains,” she steps closer, “you come and buy those herbs with your little Cleric friend!”

Oh- maybe that’s why I recognize her more? I’ve seen her more than I’ve realized?

“You know, Droplet, I could take that little one off your hands.”

Your whole body freezes at the statement and her already wicked smile becomes even more menacing and even intimidating.

“You do look close to death as is- you don’t really want to birth a child you won’t survive having do you? Especially not a bloodthirsty Dhampir!”

You feel your heart racing, a deep sadness and fear is coursing through you.

Eowyn, my sweet girl, you are not going anywhere.

That relieves some of the uncomfortable emotions stirring within you, but this woman has you in a trance. You can’t look away from her and you don’t feel like you can move.

“I- I don’t know you,” you say shakily, “I- you need to walk away, please. I’m not interested and I don’t know what you are talking about.”

You don’t even sound convincing to yourself. You begin to feel really sleepy all of a sudden and your eyes are becoming harder to keep open. Something is wrong and as much as you want to call out to Astarion- your mouth feels heavy.

“Oh, Droplet,” the woman tuts, “it will be okay- you’ll wake up and it will all be bet-“

“What in the hells do you think you are doing?”

Whatever spell the woman had tried to put you under broke when she jumped at Astarion’s voice. You look over at the father of your child and you almost begin to sob. You have never been more grateful for how menacing Astarion can look when he wants to.

“Oh, hello!” she recovers her composure, “I know this young, adorably pregnant girl from the market. I was just offering to… adopt.”

“Oh yes,” Astarion snarls, “because Hags are known for their kind hearted souls and their selfless adoption of children.”

You feel sick to your stomach. Scratch is up on the bench and standing between you and the Hag- his hackles are raised and a long, low growl is released from his throat while Wide Eyes stands right next to you as close as he can get.

The Hag looks at you, then Astarion, then Scratch, and lastly, Wide Eyes before she returns her gaze back to yours. She gives you one last wide grin.

“I will see you later, Droplet. You should know that I always get what I want.”

You turn to Astarion who is pushing past the Owlbear- your face is in between his hands in an instant and he’s frantically searching over you- looking for signs of maltreatment..

Astarion pulls out an antidote from his pocket and makes you drink it- just in case the woman had intentionally poisoned the cupcake. It didn’t make the intense sleepiness you feel go away, but at least you know you aren’t dying.

It doesn’t matter to him though- Astarion is quick to pull you up and support you while you walk home. You can tell Astarion wants to just pick you up and run back home to Shadowheart, but you both know how crazy that might look considering normal men who have Astarion’s physique can’t carry pregnant women.

The park is only a block away, but it felt like it took hours. The world is hazy and you shift in and out of focus as Shadowheart begins to check on you.

“Wh-when did Shaodowww smart get here?”

“Will you please figure out what’s wrong already, CLERIC!?”

Astarion yells and your jumbled brain jumps- tears come falling out of your eyes.

“I-I’m sorry,” you sob, “I- I didn’t- I shouldn’t-“

“Shhhhhhhh, my Darling,” Astarion is sitting next to you in an instant as you begin to tilt over, “it’s okay- this is not your fault.”

“You….. sur…..”

Your question dies on your lips as you give into the exhaustion and fall asleep with your head on Astarion’s shoulder.

***********************

Astarion’s chest loosens when Jaheira, Minsc, Gale, and Halsin arrive. At least now he can go and kill the hag without worrying about dying in the process. He almost left after you had fallen asleep- the muffin he had bought you had in fact been laced with a sleeping potion. Astarion felt like a complete idiot, but Gale reassured him that he couldn’t have possibly known.

You are laying peacefully asleep in your bed and Astarion finds himself putting his hand against your belly to make sure Eowyn is okay- her kicks give him instant relief from the anxiety he is feeling.

He almost lost both of you and that thought is still enough to make Astarion homicidal. He will not let another evil individual take his life, his happiness- his home- ever again.

“S-star?”

Your eyes are staring at him lazily as you try to blink away the sleepiness. Astarion gently grasps your hand and brushes the stray hairs out of your face.

“I’m right here, my Love,” Astarion whispers, “I’m not going to let anything happen to either of you. I promise.”

You whimper and sniffle at Astarion’s words- your bottom lip trembling. Astarion climbs into the bed behind you and holds you to him- you burst into tears.

“I al-almost lost-“ you say through sobs, “Eow-“

“Shhhh Darling, it’s okay. She’s okay,” he soothes, “I’m going with the others to kill the Hag. Jaheira and Shadowheart are going to stay here with you- okay?”

“Don’t go,” you turn awkwardly to look at him, your face is grief stricken, “I don’t want to lose you- please don’t go.”

“Darling…”

“Please.”

Right as Astarion responds- Gale is knocking on the door.

“Would it be alright if I came in?”

“Yes,” you both say in unison.

Gale smiles at Astarion sadly after he looks at you. Astarion didn’t think about the fact that it was hard for your friends to see you in this emotional state until he moved in. Shadowheart cries after leaving the room when you’ve had a particularly scary vomiting episode or false contraction. She is terrified for you and it made him realize he had been wrong about her as well. Shadowheart is a selfless person for the right people.

“Minsc and Halsin are about ready to go, Astarion,” Gale looks between the two of you- noticing how the comment created some tension, “Tav- he will come back alive. We all will. We fought Auntie Ethel as a group of total strangers with no battle experience together and won. This will be a breeze, my Friend.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so.”

You take a deep, inhale in and with one last sniff you agree to not put up a fight about Astarion going. Astarion can’t believe that you would trust Gale’s opinion on the matter more, but he does understand the sentiment. It’s how he feels about Jaheira and Shadowheart staying behind.

He leaves a chaste kiss on your forehead and whispers promises of seeing you soon- promises he intends on keeping.

[highlighter-goblin]

Ok I have more headcannons for the ✨hatchetverse✨

Number 1:

All the men in the Lipshitz/Mathews/Goldstein family have a middle name that’s a derivative of Jon. Paul, Gary, and Jerry have jon, John, and Jonn respectively, Trevor has Jonah and Richie Jonathan, and other men in the family tree also have one of those middle names, something similar, or the same with different spelling.

Headcannon B:

Some of Lauren’s characters are cousins. Specifically Emma, Ruth, and Brooke, their mothers are sisters, hence the surname differences. This little tidbit is relevant to another headcannon coming up.

Part III:

Richie introduced Paul to anime. Paul was babysitting and Richie put on sailor moon, now Paul likes anime, specifically magical girl anime. Because it was his first, his favourite is sailor moon, and he’s a crystal truther (like me) and has seen the original anime but dislikes all the filler that wasn’t in the manga that crystal excludes to cut to the chase of the plot. And the precious little simp sees him and Emma as Mamorou and Usagi, Endymion and Serenity, Tuxedo Mask and Sailor Moon, he thinks he is her fate destined saviour (he is) and simps for her in the same lame way as the dumping in the show.

4rd:

None of the nerdy prudes can drive. Ruth can’t safely drive because her headgear is considered a distraction, Richie is an ambulatory mobility aid user and legally can’t drive, Peter can’t drive because his eyesight is so bad in one eye that he’s legally blind and also legally can’t drive, Grace’s parents don’t let their little girl drive and she doesn’t want to go against her parents, Steph can’t drive because she lost her licence for reckless driving (she gets exited a bit too easy on the road)

(Edit/update: I should have probably mentioned that Pete’s situation is being based off of the road laws of Victoria, Australia, where from my knowledge if you have poor vision in one eye and are legally blind in the other you can’t drive, so I might be wrong when it comes to American road rules)

Fifth:

There was a comic convention “incident”. Ruth and Richie wanted to set up Paul and Emma, because the little nerds are friends and they wanted to set up their uncle and cousin respectively because they were seeing ✨signs✨ that their loved ones had a crush on each other. There was a comic convention in Clivesdale or some other close town to the island and Ruth and Richie wanted to go and found it as a way to set them up. Ruth asked if her favourite adult cousin could chaperone her to the convention, and hey there might be some stoners to test product. Richie told Paul there would be sailor moon and also he can’t drive and come on uncle Paul you get me the most. Ruth and Richie withheld the information for each other’s attendance to their respective adults and “coincidentally” found each other at the con, and Paul and Emma were befuddled and smitten, and now the 4 of them go to at least 1 con a year for the sake of family and saving gas money (and so Paul and Emma can flirt)

Ok sorry if this is long these have been brewing for a while. (This took me 40 minutes to type)

[muffinlance]

EDIT: New suggestions still welcome, but skim the current replies first to make sure you're not saying what twenty others have already said. Let's just say NO MORE JAPANESE NAMES to be safe (most of the repeats are Japanese); I'm still interested in other culture's tasty snack names

---

Guys, it's an emergency guys

I have lost my notes on names for Zuko's feral mantis-shrimp badger that he pulls from the trash behind his Uncle's teashop and makes into a (hissing, snarling, Nephew Please Put That Down--) pet guys

Please reply to this post with very cute food-themed names, particularly food that is small, sweet, and generally served as a tea cake. NOT tea names, Zuko hates tea. Tea snack names.

Her working name has been Madeleine but I'd prefer something more Asian, because I don't want a subplot explaining how Iroh acquires madeleines in the AtlA world. This should be something served at his shop, or available readily in town, so Zuko can impulse-name his new Snarly McBadIdea Pet. Also I cannot for the life of me spell Madeleine without a google search, so there's that.

If I end up using your name, you'll get credited in the upcoming story.

Also wanted: names for Toph's delicate seeing-eye shrimp-badger, who is a well breed and hard-working lady and therefore deserves a ludacris beefy Earth-Rumble-type name

So that when the Gaang shows up and meets Feral Trash Badger and Little Lady Badger

And hears their names

They absolutely guess wrong on which is which

And Sokka gets an Offended Badger to the face

[r0sesandthprns]

I will never forget September - November 2024 (the Agatha All Along Era 💜💚)

the edits, theories, iconic lines, everything. it's really rare for me to feel so fixated on a film, game, or book and Agatha All Along really made me feel happy for once especially when I had a hard time in school, it was just my #1 comfort show and i'm hoping that this fixation and excitement over it will remain as long as possible because season 2 might take a few years. Jac Schaeffer (sorry if I spelled her name wrong) is a really amazing producer and the cast for this show is just so beautiful

[windforestsso]

OC map 2024!

It was not long ago since Valedale been updated and it shows. Many OCs have moved there.

I have not included OCs from the old map as I didnt have access to the old file and I dont want to jump between multiple posts to get names and photos because that was just too confusing. I have done a google doc list with the Ocs so next update will be easier. But even if I didnt include OCs from the old post, we went from 73 to 95 Ocs, the population is growing.

I will not update this untill a new area been updated or added. But if anyone sees spell mistakes or wrong infomation given for ocs I can edit that. But I will not fix the map pic.

Address book is under line:

Central Jorvik:

Jorvik city:

Breasha Keane - Somewhere by Leonardos Lottie Emberwoods - Lives in Governors fall, she have no horses. Have a twin in South Hoof, Charlie Mary-Ann - lives close to Leonardos

Crater of Jor:

Alexei Sparrowhawk - lives in the mountain between Wildwoods and Dino Valley Sora Sparrowhawk - Kallter witch in dino valley searching

Firgrove:

Moa Windforest - Hidden shack in the forest  Ryland - lives at the ranger station

Firgrove Village:

Adelaide “Swift” Swiftheart - A kalter from Icengate lives near Firgrove Alexis Carolina Nightjar Elaina Hawkwatcher - Lives with her grandmother Luca Goldstone - Wilderness enthusiast. Big brother to Max in Tailtop village

Starshine Ranch:

Athena Rockstorm - Calamity Claymore - Charlie Emberwoods protoge, soul rider and chaos child. Have a big brother, Kit, in Cape West Fishing Village Daine Dusty Claymore - A retired cowboy. Uncle to Calamity and Kit Claymore Rora Dolphinheart -

Goldenhills Valley:

William Ravenyour - haunts the hayloft on Goldenleaf Stables (belongs to Dakota Ravenyour) Willow Crazytree - (no photo)

Cape West Fishing Village:

Adriana Braveheart Bella Highgirl - Officially owns a house here but has a second home in Avalon’s Meader where she stays under busy soul rider/druid times. Used to hop from hotel to hotel. Cody Hunter Doveshovel - Rents a bed with the Jorvik Fishing Club, but travels frequently for work and soul rider shenanigans. Kit Claymore - A fisherman and Amnesiac. big brother to Calamity in Starshine Ranch

Harvest Counties:

Crescent Moon:

Feya Elfchild - Lives alone

Jarlaheim:

Alyssa Evelyn - Lives close to the rocker hairstyles shop Everlee Songbird - lives with a roommate thats also a member of the keepers Iris- Neightbour to Linda. Frequently visits the family in Cape West Fishing Village Johann - Lives in the northern part of Jarlaheim. Joins Ruth on adventures often Lucy Flowerhill - Lives with Linda Niko Northlight- lives in an apartment Riley Wolfstorm Selena - Lives by the vet Yasmine Westbank -

Jorvik Stables:

Amira Monsave - 19 year old, rents a room. In jorvik to look for Anne Arya Mistwood - 24 year old, works and lives at Baroness’ racetrack but because of renovations she currently lives with their half sister, Shilo, in Jovik Stables Brook - Lives behind the white double doors Monty Lionheart - A fancy lad just vibing Shilo Stormfire - 18 Year old, dorming at the stables during the summer to train and compete with her Lipizzaner, Glory. Currently have her half-sister Arya Mistwood as a roommate

New Hillcrest:

Blake Silvercrest - lives in the stables Lucas Roni - Lives with her two dogs Opal and Potato. She works as a waitress in the local café during the day

Mistfall:

Dundull:

Azalea “Az” - lives around Dundull and work as a ranger Bodhi Applewright - Charlie Emberwoods protoge, soul rider and wanderer. Big brother to Toby in Redwoods Vendela Zoe Silverborn - lives alone

Wildwoods:

Astrid - precise location of home is unknown Heather - Sleeps in the hayloft of the stables in Redwood Point Max Goldstone -Charlies protoge, soul rider & adventurer. Have a big brother, Luca in Firgrove Rachel - Redwood Point Ranger Station Toby Applewrights - A junior ranger. Little brother to Bodhi in Dundull

North of Northern Mountains:

Donna Buttergood

Silverglade:

Alina - lives in the field between Silverglade Manor and Nilmer’s highland

Fort Pinta:

Esther Darkdragon - 26 year old, lives with Svea Darkdragon in an apartment Morgan Saltcrest - Pirate in the sea outside of the Fort Pinta Rose - Svea Darkdragon - 24 year old, lives together with Esther Darkdragon in an apartment

Moorland Stables:

Esther Northberg - lives in the hay loft above the stables Jamie Nightlock - A baby doing his best Kit Applewood -21 year old, lives with Mrs. Holdsworth, thinking of getting a small place in Valedale Montana

Silverglade Manor:

Nahla Wolfwalker - Half kalter on a quest

Silverglade Village:

Adelaide Odenburg - Lives in the pink house in the circle with two others Amelie Emberwoods - Lives at Steves farm as a riding camp instructor. Is cousin to Charlie and Lottie Emberwoods Athena Peacecry - Lives with her parents Aurora Bellavance - rents a room, wants to move to Firgrove or Goldenhills one day Ava - Recently moved to the north side of town, close to the championship Lady - Lives with Big Bonney

South Hoof Peninsula:

Ines - Lives in the cottage south of the Rescue Ranch

South Hoof Rescue Ranch:

Charlie Emberwoods - Work as a rehabilitator, have a twin in Governors fall, Lottie. Juni - travels a lot Vilda Ravenhill - Accidently roommate with Hugh Wynonna - Rents a room

Valedale:

Hollowwoods:

Damian - Lives with his family

Silversong River:

Rowan Riverborn - she a näck chills as a horse and is a danger to children Zelda Krüger - 22 year old, rents a room in Avalon’s Meander

Valedale Village:

Corinne Eaglebridge - Lives alone Evangeline Bitterhouse - A druid in-training. little sister to Genevieve Genevieve Bitterhouse - Charlie Emberwoods Protege, soul rider and a nature witch. Big sister to Evangeline Halo Starborn Joseph - had an apartment in Fort Pinta but let the lease run out Kelly Nightborn Lexa - Moved to Valedale Village after she used to live with her family in Moorland Marie - Lives in a house next door to Avalons Renata Rose Riverlee - Is a Pandorian hunting for someone, lives in valedale when not in Pandoria Sadie Algren - Take cares of horses at the village stables while their owner is away, travels to pandora to study flora and fauna Sora

Homeless:

Alou - contantly traveling with other shopkeepers on the Southern Jorvik event circuit Juli - Either in Pandoria or traveling, he supposed to live in south hoof but wont stay there. Ruth - drifter, can be seen more frequently around Jarlaheim and Greendale

[xxcherrydevilxx]

Fuck Away the Pain

— Dazai x femreader x Chuuya

— Warnings: NSFW (obvi) angsty smut, rough sex, minors dni

— Summary/Author Notes: never wrote actual fanfiction and posted it on Tumblr before, listened to “fuck away the Pain” by Divide the Day and wanted to write about a playboy Dazai hurting the reader and making them go to Chuuya in desperation. I am a woman with simple wants. Sloppy writing and even sloppier editing due to never posting fanfic before. might write more if I get notes who knows 

— Word Count: 4615

— Afterthoughts: Truly wanted to make this porn with no plot to keep it short, ended up doing the exact fucking opposite. Am not reading this entire thing for the 7th time to check for spelling and grammar errors, please just feast. 

You were so fucking stupid. So, so, so fucking stupid.

Had you really thought Osamu Dazai would truly be yours? How fucking stupid could you even be? The pet names, the way he touched you, the gifts, sure they were nice but did you ever hear him really call you anything other than the usual “Belladonna”?

God what a fool you were, a stupid fool who fell in love with a man who knew he could wrap any man or woman around his finger. Laughable truly, that you thought you were the only one to ever know the embrace of Dazai, the only one to feel his tongue slip inside your mouth.

SO fucking stupid you were.

And that's how you found yourself, stumbling in your nice dress and even nicer heels down a dirty no-name road while the rain poured down on your sorry state. You had caught him, practically fucking another woman against the wall of the place he had asked you to meet up at weeks prior. You were too stunned to speak when you heard the soft moans and rough growls from a dimly lit alleyway, causing you to investigate out of stupid curiosity. 

When Dazai caught you out of the corner of his eyes he didn’t even drop the woman he was holding roughly against the brick wall, he just unlatched his lips from her bruised and marked neck to say he was busy and they'd “meet another time,” yeah, sure! you'd get right on that next meet-up after blocking his number and changing your locks.

Such a fucking idiot you were, why did you even get him a copy of your apartment key? What? You thought he would come and cozy up next to you, build a life with you? Ha, how rich of a thought.

Through your blurry vision, obscured by both your tears and the rain from the sky that seemed to mourn with you, a neon bar sign shone like a haven, a safe place to regain your composure somewhere warm and dry… And get fucking wasted so you couldn’t remember the look of the woman twitching and whining against Dazai once he had stopped biting her to give you a quick comment.

So, that's how you found your drenched self on a bar stool, knocking back shots of a burning whiskey and chasing it with another shot of sake to get you as drunk as possible. You were surprised the bartender had kept serving you after your fifth ask of liquor, you half thought they might have begun watering down the drinks to slow your intoxication. You didn’t mind, you kept drinking and kept thinking of your idiocy. 

He had played you so well, or maybe he knew you were so stupid that you wouldn’t ask questions about where he would run off to, or why you only saw him sparingly at times. At first, you just thought it was his work, he never outright said that but you had assumed it to be the truth because… because you were an idiot. 

Another shot, another whiskey, another sake, another whatever the hell was behind that bar.

“You’ll drink ‘im dry you know,” a voice had teased behind you. Making you snarl and whip your head around, your wet hair catching on your cheek and getting stuck against the still-cold skin. What a sordid state you must look like to the other patrons, but there were practically zero other clients except you and a few men out after dark. Couldn’t they tell you wanted to be left alone? That something was wrong for you to be drinking this much and that you just wanted to enjoy your liquor and get the hell out once you felt inebriated enough.

“I didn’t ask for commentary,” you fired back, your eyes catching on the figure that had spoken to you. What caught you by surprise was the man’s attire, and then after that the striking orange hair that framed his face. But what irritated you the most after you took in the arrogant man who wore such gaudy attire to match his personality was the smirk that played on his lips as he looked down upon you. 

“Well, then maybe don't get obscenely drunk in a public bar.” he had shot back with ease. Jesus fucking Christ couldn’t you drown your sorrows in peace? Why did every annoying man have to seek you out? 

“If you really think Mr. Bartender there is still serving me anything other than watered-down shots I’d have to say you are almost as dumb as me.” you hissed out at the man, giving him your meanest glare before turning back to your drinks. You had to admit, the buzz you were nursing didn’t seem to be growing any worse despite your best efforts. You could still see with perfect memory the image of your assumed-to-lover with another woman every time you closed your eyes. 

“Oh, good, at least you know you're stupid” -the man muttered under his breath as he took the empty seat next to you. Waving a hand to get the attention of the bartender- “I thought I would have to tell you that, then also tell you that dress of yours is really easy to see through after getting it wet.”

You wanted to strangle him. By god, you wanted to kill him with your own hands.

The best you could do though was throw your drink at him, soaking his expensive red vest that covered the white shirt underneath it. Now that seemed to get him pissed, and you relished in it. 

“Nobody ever teach you to leave drunkards alone?” you sneered, giving him a devilish smile as you watched him practically shortcircuit at your actions.

“And did nobody ever teach you not to mess with the Port Mafia, doll?” He snarled back. Quickly grabbing an excess amount of napkins to dab onto his vest to try and soak up any of the liquid so it wouldn’t stain his clothes any further. 

It took you more than a few seconds to register his words, and you hated to admit you only took in the pet name first before realizing the more dangerous term he spoke. 

The Port Mafia? That Port Mafia? The one Dazai always complained about and whined excessively regarding one of their executives. You didn’t even really care about it, sure you knew of them but in what world would you ever meet them? You strictly told Dazai you would never get in between his work life and personal life, somewhat for him but mostly for you. Because you saw how dangerous it could be, and you wanted to live relatively peacefully without worry of getting shot by some person with an axe to grind. And now you went and dumped your shot on one of their members? After trying so hard to remain surrounded in obscurity to never catch such a prolific gang's attention? 

God how fucking stupid could you be in one night.

He must have seen your face change to an ashen white after realizing what he had just uttered, and he let out a snort of amusement at it, which only furthered made you think you were going to get fucking killed, or at least go home missing a few teeth.

“Listen I- I didn’t know how could I- I mean-” you started to ramble before being caught off by a cock of his head and the furrow of his eyebrows.

“Because you're practically in our territory?” he replied, his voice oozing with annoyance after realizing how dumb you truly were. 

“I- listen dude I had a hell of a rough night please I'm sorry I’ll- I’ll get your dry cleaning or whatever the hell you want just let me pay my bill and leave.” you began to plead. Groveling was all you knew in an instance such as this, and you hoped he would show kindness... Who are you kidding when had the Port Mafia been known for Kindness? 

He scoffed at you, “Dry cleaning? A rough night? Does it look like I give a shit, doll?” you practically flinched at his words. Of course, this wouldn’t work, his clothes probably cost a fortune anyhow. You could never afford the bill, or even afford to pay him back for the ruined clothes. You were going to die, he would pull a gun on you and shoot you in the head, painting the walls a sickeningly red color. 

“Chuuya… give her a rest, you knew better.” the bartender’s gruff voice murmured as he sat a glass down in front of him. Wait- Chuuya? Chuuya? Like the executive, Dazai always groaned about? 

“Chuuya?” you oppugned, somehow finding your voice to ask the pissed-off man a question. He scowled at you once he heard you speak.

“Chuuya as in like- one of the executives from the Port Mafia?” you asked dumbly. Your heart skipping a beat as the man’s eyes seemed to light ever so slightly at the recognition.

“Well how ‘bout that, at least you seem to know something doll,” he replied, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. His eyes held on you for a heartbeat, before he shrugged off his long black coat to hang over your shoulders. You startled at the action, instinctively leaning backward once his hands reached out towards you.

“I really did mean what I said,” he muttered. Taking a swig of his drink as his cheeks flushed slightly and he averted his gaze from you. 

You cocked your head in confusion; what did he say again? That he was in the Port Mafia, that you were stupid, that your dress-

You pulled the coat tightly around yourself, acutely aware of how the soaked fabric clung tightly to your skin. How long had you sat there while your dress only further soaked your skin to ice? How long could people see what was hidden under the cloth? Why did you only realize now?

“Thanks.” you begrudgingly muttered to the cocky ginger. Your hand snaking out of the oddly comforting warm coat to grab the abandoned glass in front of you to drag to your lips. He dipped his head as if to let you know he heard you and continued to drink.

Both of you stayed like that for a while. Nursing your own drinks side by side as the rain continued to come down loudly outside. The space between you both on the barstools was as tense as you were being in his coat. You absently thought “What would Dazai think?” if he knew you were here, drinking in the dead of night with a man he would spit obscenities about when he talked of work. What would he think if he knew you were draped in his coat, that you were trying to discretely peek over at him? Taking in his figure and his face... Which now that the smug smirk was wiped off it seemed strikingly handsome under the bar lights. 

“Why the rough night.” he had asked. His voice broke the silence as if it were a crack of lightning coming down right where he sat. You jumped slightly at it, turning your head fully this time to look at him. You could tell he was looking at you from the corner of his grey eyes, and you swallowed hard as you willed your voice to work. 

“This… guy I was seeing,” you made sure to leave Dazai’s name out, not wanting to put a warrant on your head if Chuuya disliked him as much as Dazai did. “I caught him with another girl. It’s not like we were official or anything it just- stung.. Made me feel like a fool” you mumbled into your drink, your lips playing on the rim of the crystal glass as you waited for Chuuya to also call you a fool, or to laugh at your sad love story. But he remained quiet, only turning to give you his full attention-

God, either you were more drunk than you were aware or the man you dumped a drink on was shockingly attractive. 

You wished you could go back and make a better impression, wondering if instead of falling for Dazai you could have fallen for him. Would he have treated you better? Or were he and Dazai the sides of the same coin? Knowing your abysmal luck it was probably the latter.

“That's rough.” was all he responded. His eyes were still on you as you stared down into your half-empty glass. 

“Ha, no... I should have expected as much,” you laughed. Your voice took on a tinge of sadness as you recounted again, for the millionth time, the sight of the man you once loved having another girl pushed up against a wall. 

And what was even worse than that memory was all the other ones. The good memories, laying with Dazai tangled in your sheets as he rubbed circles in your back. The smell of morning coffee that he would bring to you as you lay in bed. The soft kisses he would plant on your face when he had to leave.

Your eyes were getting misty and you rubbed harshly at them, hating the fact you were beginning to tear up again. You didn’t want to cry- wouldn’t- over a man like him. You wouldn’t give him another thought, you would wash him from your brain and never think of how his brunette hair fell lazily over his eyes, how he smiled at you when he saw you waiting for him-

Who were you kidding? You couldn’t stop thinking of him. He plagued your mind this entire time as you had sat next to Chuuya. The only time your brain paused its replays of Dazai was when you had gotten into a petty argument before knowing who the man next to you was. 

“I can take your mind off it.” his words hung in the space between you both. as his eyes continued to drink you in, their half-lidded look making you want to sink into his arms. You were already getting too wound up, he probably didn't mean that sexually… of course not, you were crazy. You had thrown a drink on him and called him stupid and you didn’t even know who he was before the bartender said his name. How could he possibly want you?

He wanted you. You found that after taking up on his offer and following him out into the rain. His coat still snugly wrapped around your form. You half expected to go back to his place to drink more, this time without the annoyance of a bartender keeping you from getting fully drunk. You were surprised when he gently pushed you against the wall of the bar outside, his lips finding yours and softly kissing them. Your breath hitched and you looked up into his silver eyes as the rain poured down on the both of you, wetting your lips with your tongue you willed him to kiss you again. Your mind frayed and the buzz you had, added on with the kiss from the handsome Chuuya had made you forget almost everything from the morning prior with Dazai. 

He seemed to read your expression with ease, this time hungrily taking your lips for himself. his tongue slipping inside your mouth to explore. You pressed your body flush against him, the rain making both of you practically stick together. You focused entirely on this kiss, this moment, the rain, and the feeling of his hands on your hips. The way his tongue slid over yours, the way he kissed so much differently in comparison to Dazai. 

He bit your bottom lip gently before pulling away to look at you with eyes filled with desire and lust, it made you weak to your core and your knees practically jelly.

He had taken you back to his place, where? You didn’t really care to know. All you cared about was the way his hands explored your icy skin with slow purpose as you stumbled beside him. You itched to get to a bed, to peel off your wet clothes and for him to be atop you, his hands taking you roughly instead of the unhurried pace he took as he led you to his home.

Once you had made it to his bed, the covers velvety red and unmade you practically felt yourself give out. This is what you needed, this is so desperately what you needed after such a shitty night. A handsome man, a soft bed, and your mind to be overtaken by the thought of pleasure.

Now that you were splayed across the sheets, your wet clothes discarded in a heap by the bedroom door, and with Chuuya kissing his way down your body as if to warm you up from the cold, all you wished for was for him to hurry it up. The teasing was torturous, his tongue and lips taking such a languid approach to the way your body responded to his touch. He wanted to test out seemingly every way he could give you pleasure without actually letting you ride that high. Massaging your thighs that rubbed together to gain some type of relief. The way you yelped when his teeth bit into your breast. The way he watched your face like a hawk as he maneuvered himself to be between your wet and hot thighs. The way his stare bore into you made you flush even more and your core tighten, trying to hide your face in the sheets. His hand quickly snaked up your body to grab you by the chin and turn your face back to him. 

“Watch me, doll.” his voice was thick with want. You could feel the heat rolling off him against your sex as his eyes flickered down to the slick heat between your legs. Just like before his tongue was painstakingly slow as he licked his way up to your sensitive clit, before he pulled away to watch how such a small amount of stimulation made you shake and your breath come out fast and ragged. You whined insistently as you moved your hips as if asking him to go back between them. Chuuya chuckled at your antics, placing one hand on your hip to still your movement. 

“You’re quite needy, yknow?” he teased. His hand rubbed soft circles into your hip, which made you instinctively think of Dazai and his rough hands being so gentle on your skin. You blinked back fresh hot tears as the unwanted memory surfaced and you heaved out a shuddering breath. Raising your upper half to look at Chuuya with serious determination, you could tell it caught him off guard as he stilled his petting on your hips and waist. 

“Not that. None of that. Make me” -you licked your lips as your breath caught in your throat- “Make me forget, Chuuya.” you pleaded, and you could see something snap in the ginger as his name left your lips with passion.

He got to quick work of making sure you forgot anything and everything to do with your past lover. His tongue and lips worked wonders on you as you moaned his name and rolled your hips against his face. His breath was hot against your skin as he took your sensitive clit into his lips and gently bit down on the bundle of nerves, making you see stars and your voice choke out a strangled moan as you came on his face. Your chest heaved quick and fast, trying to find a moment of reprieve from your intense climax from all the edging Chuuya had given to you before your hasty request.

The rest was short-lived as his body hovered above yours, his hands digging into your skin as he let out a ragged breath. His hair was a mess, his lips covered in you and his chest heaving in tandem with yours. His hands, which had surely given your waist bruises from the force he held you down into the mattress, moved to take out his thick cock that was slick with his precum. Your breath hitched at the sight, your eyelashes fluttering as you took in the sight. Chuuya could tell the sight of him turned you on more than before, and it made him let out a shuddering groan as he moved his hand lazily up and down the shaft, trying to quell his own needs. 

“Now- ha- doll,” his breath came out fast as he pumped himself slowly as he took in your shaking form underneath him. 

“How much do you wish to forget?” he asked. His voice was gruff and shallow with want as he watched your face for a look of understanding. Your eyes were still on the twitching member in his hand, you wanted to touch it, to taste it, to see Chuuya come undone because of you and you alone. It took you a few minutes to register his words, and you only came back when he took his free hand to your throat and lightly pressed down as if trying to gain your attention back to him and his words. 

“Ah- uhm-” you shook your head slightly. You hadn’t heard him, you barely heard his ragged breath because your gaze was fixed on his cock.

“Repeat yourself against, Chuuya,” you asked. Which made the hand that was still gently wrapped around your throat squeeze it ever so tightly, eliciting a gasp from you before making your stomach tighten and your sex get even wetter at the feeling.

“I know you’re” -he gritted his teeth to stop himself from moaning at the way you're shyly let out a moan as his hand gripped your throat- ”I know you’re fucking dumb, but when I speak I expect to be listened to.” You loved the way he spoke to you, the way his grip was getting ever so tighter around your throat. The way his eyes drilled into you.

“Yes- sorry- I just-” You let out a hiss of pain as his hand tightened even more, stopping you from finishing your sentence. 

“I don't want an apology,” he growled as he positioned himself at your entrance, his hand around your throat loosening ever so slightly as he took you in, the way he could feel your breath still in your throat because of how much you wanted him made him come undone. 

“I just want you to remember for next time,” he said roughly, before slamming his hips into yours with such ferocity it made your head snap back and your toes dig into the sheets to steady yourself. 

His pace was even more brutal, and his hand never left your throat. The free one found its way underneath your back to pull you closer to him as he thrusted into you with the speed of an animal. Your moans were fast and high pitched, the sweet feeling of pain and pleasure mixing together into one made tears prick the corner of your eyes. You felt him shift his weight and dip his head towards you, his hair tickling the side of your face as his tongue darted out to lap up your salty tears, making you moan out his name as you watched his eyes snap to your lips before devouring them. His pace never slowed, and the pressure on your neck never slackened. He was driving you mad, the lack of oxygen, the taste of his lips and the sound of his hips slamming against yours only made you chase your high. He muffled your high-pitched moans and cries, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he continued to deprive you of air. You could feel the coil at the pit of your stomach tighten more and more with every different stimulation from the man on top of you. You felt yourself on the verge of snapping, tears pooling in your eyes before slipping down your hot face. Chuuya pulled away once again to lick up the tears that trickled down your face, his tongue sending chills down your spine as you finally gulped in air for your lungs.

“Atta girl,” he growled into your ear, and you felt that coil snap. 

You spasmed in his hold, and his mouth moved from your ear to your neck as he bit down harshly and somehow, god how you wished you knew, picked up an even faster pace as he helped your climax meet its fullest and deepest desires. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your hands hastily came up to wrap around his back and dig your nails into his skin as you screamed until your voice was hoarse. 

Chuuya relished the sound, the way your entire body tensed and clung to him as if he was the only thing that could remedy the wild pleasure that shot through your body and filled your mind with delirious desires. He could feel his own climax approaching and he bit harder into your neck, tasting your blood as his ears were trained to the sounds you made. When you began to chant his name under your breath, was when his hips stuttered and he came inside of you. He fell on top of you, his hand slipping away from your throat to allow you to fully breathe in sweet oxygen after the torture you must have endured at your climax. He hazily looked at the mark he made on your skin, the small droplets of blood slipping down your skin as you gasped for air. He lazily licked around the wound and sucked the blood, waiting for you to come back to him and for you to say his name again.

He wanted to ask you to stay the night, he was sure you wouldn't be able to walk home anyway, and he was vaguely aware of the sound of rain still coming down outside. 

“Doll..” he cooed, rolling off you and onto his back. You moved your eyes to take him in, the way his eyes were hazy and unfocused, his hair even more wild than before, and the cocky smile he had on his lips at the sight of you… what you must look like to him.

“Hm?” was all you could muster out as a reply, still trying to regain your breath as your body still sporadically twitched from the aftershock of such an intense climax. 

“Stay the night… I can’t have you go back out in that rain,” he mumbled, his hand coming up to brush your hair away from your face. You leaned into his touch, you knew you told him at the start no softness... But now, you could hardly remember why you asked that in the first place.

“Mhm, sure, Chuuya,” you breathed, rolling closer into his embrace. He held you tight to his chest, which was slick with sweat. You could feel him fiddle with your hair absentmindedly. As you slowly closed your eyes, comforted by the feeling of his heartbeat and the soothing feeling of his hand in your hair, you suddenly remembered something he said. Your eyes popped open, and you pushed your hands onto his chest to hover your face above his. “Wait- Chuuya- did you say there would be a next time?” you asked, bewildered. His loud and sharp laugh echoed through the room and you blushed furiously at the idea of doing this again. But despite the embarrassment, you felt oddly happy that Chuuya wanted you again, and you were excited to take him up on the offer.

[mingismoralloyalty]

The sweetest scent

pairing: Idol! Mingi x succubus! reader (species implies that the reader is fem bodied)

genre: smut

au: fantasy au, demon au

trope: magical invocation

word count: 3.6k

rating: 18+, Minors do not interact!

summary: Mingi is down bad for way to long now. Good thing his daydreams leading him into your open arms, when you not so randomly appear on the other side of the road, driven by a spell and the delicious smell of his despair...

warnings: smut, pwp, cnc somnophilia, cum eating, unprotected sex (don't!), nicknames (honey, sweetheart, baby, pretty boy, princess, baby boy), soft dom!reader, subby Mingi, demon fucking, praise kink, nipple kink, breast play, cumming inside, kinda getting caught, did I forget something?

authors note: Heyy, this is my first fanfic in a long long while and I've never written something like this in english, so please bear with me. If you find mistakes, let me know, so I can improve myself 🩷 I'm so glad this is now out here. Please let me know what you think. Critique is welcome. And yes, I had to edit some things, I hope you like this version too. Okay that's it for now ✨

songs: BM - bad intentions

~😈🖤😈~

It was a warm friday evening in Seoul, the streets were full of people enjoying their free time, visiting bars with their friends or going out on dates with their partners. This city was full of couples much to the distress of a certain young man. Mingi was sick of this sight. It wasn't like he was envious, but he was just so done that he wasn't able to date, let alone have a one night stand. Dating would even be the safest option for him to blow off some steam, even though that wouldn't be the only reason a girlfriend would be great. Don't get him wrong, he's not an ass, but sometimes there was just something missing in his life.

Having one night stands had the potential to ruin his reputation in just a few days, so this was off the table. But to be honest he had no time to date. He had tried it and it went awful. A week long relationship wasn't even a relationship, it was just something. In the end he even had to be scared that his "ex girlfriend" - or whatever she was - would use pictures of them together as leverage against him.

Sometimes he dreamt of living a normal live, moving freely in public and having a girlfriend. But then again he loved his life like it was right now and he wouldn't trade it for anything else. Just a little adventure here or there would just be a nice addition.

That's why he decided to make the step and - even if it sounds crazy - summon a succubus.

But let's start at the beginning. It all started when he had stumbled across this link to an online forum a few days ago, where people were sharing stories about their encounters with magical beings. Guardian angels, demons, doppelgangers... you name it.

Mingi himself was sure he had seen a fairy in his parents garden multiple times when he was a little kid. He would never forget these images, this extraordinary experience. It would always live inside his head. The magical world was there, he was sure.

It was so interesting to read all of these encounters people had with these other worldly beings, that he couldn't stop reading.

Today at work it was no exception, because these thoughts of being lonely at night reminded him, that he hadn't finished one specific story he had found on that site, where a guy was writing about meeting a succubus. Well, he claimed to have summoned her. What an exciting story! Mingi read and read. Maybe this was a solution he could try for himself? The ritual for the invocation seemed easy enough to do in his little studio. He just needed four black candles (surely it didn't matter if they were scented) and a spell. So he did it.

And now he walked home, full of anticipation. Hopefully he did everything right and it would work tonight. He knew a succubus would only appear when he fell asleep (well, he thought so). How would it feel to be touched in his sleep? Probably pretty hot, he imagined. And hopefully he would wake up? Would it make sense to set an alarm? Surely he would wake up anyways.

As he was walking away from the masses of people to a more quiet area of the city, where the dorm was located, he was dwelling on this thought not paying much attention to his surrounding.

And that's where you came into play. Already from afar you could smell this man's need and desperation. Musky and sweet. Oh so sweet. He smelled like a dessert to you and you would make sure to eat him like one tonight. It was so intense, that you didn't have to look for too long for him. Feeding on humans energy could be tough sometimes, but today seemed an easy feast. But before that, you always loved to take a closer look at your prey and play a little with their mind.

It was a simple tactic but efficient, just looking cute and seemingly absemindedly walking in his way. Him playing into your cards by not looking where he went himself was downright nice of him and... boom! You felt his toned chest muscles on your bare upper arm as you dramatically stumbled sideways, letting out a soft "Oh!" and dropping your handbag to the floor.

"Ah! I'm sorry!", he blurted out instantly grabbing your shoulder so you wouldn't fall aswell. "Oh no, it was my bad, I wasn't looking myself.", you exclaimed, looking up to him with doe eyes. For a second time stood still. He froze, looking at you mesmerised, his mouth slightly agape. He smelled even better up close, like seasalt and sage. This was his cologne, not only his pheromones but the combination smelled even better. You too, were struck for a moment, before he quickly blinked and let go of you. "Sorry. ", he mumbled, before hastily grabbing your bag from the concrete to offer it to you.

"Here... uh, your bandhag...I - I mean handbag!", you grabbed the bag with a sweet smile and he awkwardly laughed while scratching the back of his head. "Thank you and thanks for catching me.", you said softly and put the strap of your bag over your shoulder.

"Sorry again, and sorry I have to go. Have a good evening.", he kind of cutely waved you goodbye and went in the direction of the dorm a bit faster and focused this time.

Your eyes follow him with a bemused face. He would be so fun to play with.

Mingi went home in a hurry, trying not to crash into another person or thing until he was able to close the door of his safe home behind him, before he could cringe in peace.

"Fuck, that was so awkward!", he grunted pulling his sneakers from his feet.

"Hm?", a curious face appeared in his sight when he came back up to step into the appartment. Typical nosey San looked expectantly with raised eyebrows at his flatmate. Mingi sighed. "There was this cute girl I ran into. Nearly knocked her over.", he explained and San snickered. "Daydreaming again, man? What's up with you these days?", he asked, but Mingi just waved it off. "What's for dinner?", he asked instead before he paused in his movement. Was his hand smelling funny? He held it up to his nose to smell it and indeed it smelled fruity, flowery and insanely feminine. It almost made him a little dizzy...

That night Mingi was almost too excited to sleep, hadn't he been so exhausted from work that he fell asleep sooner than he thought.

He had a great sleep. Forgotton was his awkward behaviour and he was only thinking about your beautiful eyes, that somehow found a way into his dream...

You giggled quietly doing a little happy dance on your tip toes, when you materialized in a dark corner of his Bedroom. It was just so easy, but you loved these games every time, before visiting.

Full of anticipation you looked over to Mingi. Black filled your eyes, instantly reflecting some of the moonlight that shined through the window, while also your beautiful black horns came twisting up through your shiny Hair. Unlike on the street today you were now wearing some black lingerie which honestly left nearly nothing to the imagination. Easy excess was important for you so this seemed appropriate.

There he layed on his bed all sprawled out, stripped of his heavy blanked in this hot weather softly snoring. He was deep in his slumber with a raging hard on visibly poking up in his pyjama shorts. You really left an imprint on that poor boy that evening.

Slowly you made your way to his bed eyeing his sleepy form up and down. He looked so cute and peaceful and you were sure the expression of pure bliss on his face would look even cuter... or maybe desperation when you would deny him of his orgasm?

"Hmm, we will see...", you mumbled to yourself, before climbing over your yet clueless prey to straddle him.

Carefully you grabbed his pants on each side and slowly pulled it down. With a little flop his not so little dick slapped against his toned torso creating a small puddle of precum below his bellybutton. A reliefed sound escaped his soft lips, when you freed his boner in the act, which made you smile widely. "My god, he's so big!", you whispered with wide eyes.

The cum looked delicious on his skin dripping from his tip and you wanted to taste it so badly. So you wasted no time and dipped your index finger into the clear fluid and brought it between your lips. Kind of sweet you'd say. Surprisingly. Sadly this wasn't often the case. But this cutie was a special one, you could feel it. You two would definitely have a lot of fun tonight.

With quick motions you opened his pyjama shirt and exposed his bare chest. Now it was your turn to release a content sigh when you viewed his seemingly flawless figure, your gaze cought by his beautiful pink nipples. You loved nipples! Another part of the human body that made so many people squirm when you touched them the right way. They looked so delicate and vulnerable, it was wonderful. Biting your lower lip you softly touched the rosy buds and earned another pleased sound of this strikingly handsome young man under you.

Mesmerised by your view your hands started to wander downwards on his body, still nibbling on your own soft lips you started to stroke his thick cock up and down where his precum smeared tip was subtly glistening in the moonlight. It felt so heavy in your comparibly small hand and you loved it. Apparently he loved your touch too, because he quietly started to moan. You looked at his face to see the slightly scrunched eyebrows. He was really a sight to see.

His whole appearance made you throb for more and you wondered who was the demon here. Even in his sleep it seemed like he actively tried to seduce you. You were dripping for him. You needed him inside desperately. His sexual energy would last a long time for you to feist on, you were sure.

Still on your knees you propped yourself up on one hand to hover over the sleeping man to rub your wet folds angainst the underside of his shaft. His body felt so hot it send a tingling sensation through your whole body as your core touched it. Your slick arousal gathering on his dick more and more before you finally pushed it inside your hole with a high pitched moan leaving your lungs while earning a surprised but undeniably aroused gasp by your sleeping cutie.

He stretched you out so good that you held still for a moment to adjust your body to his before starting to grind against his hips. Moving in circular motions while rubbing your clit on his pubic area created an appatizing sound to you not to mention a wonderfully energising feeling. And in the magic of the moment you needed to taste his lips. His oh so full and pink lips. So you did and they tasted immaculate. It seemed that there was nothing he couldn't offer you. Maybe you had to come back a few times you thought to yourself, absentmindedly stroking one of his nipples with the thumb of your free hand, never loosing your sensual rhythm.

And you knew the most interesting part would begin now, because all of this different stimulations were waking the deepest sleeper. So you curiously hovered over his face after the kiss and you saw how he struggled to lift his heavy eyelids, his body fighting against the deep sleep.

"Wakey, wakey.", you giggled, still letting you hips circle over his. "Honey, you feel heavenly, you know that?", you sighed and continued to toy with his pretty perky nipples.

"What?", he responded confused and drowsy still trying to get his body awake.

Deep sleep was so heavy on him after such a long day and it took him a little while to get conscious, but finally he opend his eyes and realised that this was not his dream anymore, even though there was the same person in front of him, just slightly different looking.

"What the fuck?!", he gasped and crossed his arms in front of his face.

"Already forgot that you called for me, sweetheart?", you smiled. You were right. Mingi rubbed his eyes and blinked at you.

He swallowed down the initial shock your demonic appearance had caused him and lowered his arms next to him.

"No, I... I just wasn't expecting...", he tried to finish his sentence, but it ended miserably in a guttural moan, when you moved your hips again. You nodded. "That's it, baby. Give in to me.", you said lowly, before you slowed down your movements and took his hand in yours, guiding it to your horns.

"Didn't expect me to look like this, hm?", you asked with a cheeky grin.

Mingi's hand shrugged away for a second when he felt the rough texture of the horn.

"I summoned you.", he simply stated, recalling his memories from the day, his mind now much clearer.

"You did, pretty boy.", you confirmed enthusiastically.

"It really worked.", he whispered fascinated.

"And you know there is only one reason why why you would do that, right?", you asked, trying to get him out of his shell now.

"Yeah.", he nodded, a slight red tint creeping on to his cheeks, before his eyes suddenly got bigger.

"It's you! We- we met on the streets today."

You laughed.

"Yes, we did, sweetheart. And when I found you today ...", you started painting invisible patterns on his chest with your fingers, "you where smelling so delicious with all your pheromones and your nearly dripping desperation. I smelled you from miles away. Haven't smelled this intensity in a while I must say.", thinking about this you put a finger on your chin, pursing your lips.

"You... You could smell my...", Mingi's cheeks changed into an even deeper red now.

"All of your desire and despair, yes.", you, smiled and stroked his cheek with your thumb.

"I knew I had to taste you, pretty boy.", you batted your eyelashes at him.

"I'm sure you're having a rough time, where you can't make room for sex. I couldn't imagine.", you pouted like you genuinely felt sorry for him and you did a bit, just because he was so extra cute.

Slowly you found it was enough of all the talking. You wanted to start the action again and you were sure Mingi agreed.

"So... how about we just fuck now, princess?", you asked him massaging his shoulders a little and you suddenly felt him twitch inside of you.

"Oh, you like that, huh?", a triumphant expression was creeping on your face.

Mingi's body felt hot. This was all he was hoping for. He looked you up and down. From your dark eyes and your horns to your sensual lips, your bare tits, just in reach for him, down to your core where he still was nestled inside of you. This insanely hot woman was already on top of him, calling him by his favourite nickname, when he was now down bad for months. Finally!

"Sure, let's continue.", he smiled back at you and let his hands glide up your thighs to grip your hips.

"Alright, baby boy, show me what you got.", you said with a wicked smile and let your hands wander from his shoulders to his upper arms where you held tight.

Mingi now began to actively push upwards to meet your hips. Oh, how he missed this feeling! It just felt so good. Oh, sooo good. After such a long time, he really needed it. Your pussy felt so hot and tight around him and you were already so wet for him. The slick sounds between you both accompanied an animalistic series of grunts he let out wich made you victoriously puff your chest. Of course this motion didn't go unnoticed by the attractive man underneath you, who took his chance to grab a handful of one of your boobs, squishing and massaging it in his big palm, making you moan appreciatively.

"Ah, fuck me good, pretty boy!", you panted as his movements got faster. You leaned down to get another taste of his plump lips, that felt so soft against yours, you could have done this all night long, but Mingi wanted more. His tongue darted out to catch yours, so you opened your mouth and welcomed him with some soft licks to it, before sucking on it a little. All the while his fingers were playing with your nipples and his hot breath echoed inside your open mouth when you release his tongue again. He made you feel so good, it was incredible.

Finally you grabbed his right hand from your tit to move it down further between your bodies and let his fingers touch your clit. He instantly understood the assignment and started rubbing rough circles on it. You were a mess by now, you really didn't have this much fun in a long time. "Fuck you're so good at this, sweetheart.", you praised him while Mingi gave you half a smirk, already broken asweat. This was extatic. You felt your high coming closer and closer to the point where it was just seconds away. "Oh, I'm coming~!", you whimpered, rutting against Mingi's movements that where going at a rapid pace now. You had completely blown his mind away. He was panting and grunting, pulling your body against his with so much force it made you tip over the edge and come so hard like you haven't in a long while. A stretched downright pornographic moan left your open mouth, everything inside your body contracted hard in waves, your pussy pulsing around Mingi's dick and this incredibly energising and relieving feeling spreading through your veins. Hungryly you looked down at Mingi, eager to see his orgasm face.

His eyes where scrunched up in pleasure, brows knitted, his mouth shaped like an O. He was so close. "Come for me, princess.", you whispered against his lips whilst contracting and relieving your pelvic muscles a few times on purpose. This was it. All this built-up frustration that couldn't be satisfied with his own hands released in one go. A moan left him so heartbreaking you weren't sure if he would literally fall apart under you. You lived for this extasy. All these big feelings releasing from one moment to another.

You could feel the amount of cum getting pumped inside your heat and it was truly the cherry on top for you. This whole act was the essence of your life and you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Fuck, I feel so good.", you sighed, every part of your body tingling while you layed your head on Mingi's shoulder.

"Oh, shit!", he laughed, bringing his hands to his face. "This was crazy.", he mumbled and you snickered. "I can't deny it: I really needed this.", he carefully put an arm on your back, looking at you from the corner of his eyes. In this moment it was absolutely weired to see and he didn't know if he could trust his senses, but your eyes turned back to the color he saw this evening and your horns retrieved back between your silky locks.

"What is happening?", he asked confused, looking deep in your eyes. "This is my human form.", you simply stated, "I only have to let it go when I charche my energy.", you shrugged your shoulders and smiled.

"Oh, so you can normally walk around like this.", he nodded. "Right, I-...", rumbling was heard outside his room. Muffled voices. "Mingi?", it was Seonghwa.

"Everything okay with you?", San's voice following.

Panic widened in Mingi's eyes.

"Uh, yeah... Everything's s all right! Don't come in!", quickly he pushed himself up on his elbows. Normally there were no visitors in the dorm and if that was the case, they swore that they would tell each other.

"What happened?", San asked and Seonghwa instantly commented: "You really wanna know, if he says 'don't come in' after those sounds leaving his room?"

"Oh, shush!", San said annoyed.

"You're shushing me?!", Seonghwa retorted and the bickering began outside the door.

"Who are they?!", you giggled, sitting up again. Mingi taking the chance to lift his upper body with you, but also pressing a hand over your mouth in a hurry with a pleading look on his face.

Silence.

"Is there a woman with you?", San's voice sounded confused.

"Uh, no...", great, he sounded way to unsure.

"Can't you just vanish, like you came in here? Or how did even you come in here anyways?", Mingi hissed at you.

"Oh no, this is too much fun.", you laughed when his fingers left your lips.

"Come on in guys!", you chimed happily, you were so curious to see who was living with your little cutie.

Silence again.

Slowly the door handle dipped, the door opened and revealed two very handsome young men.

Hastily Mingi tried to cover your still connected bodies with his blanket. This was even more embarrassing than the incident on the streets with you today.

"Oh my god!", San exclaimed, trying to hide his and Seonghwa's eyes at the same time.

"Mingi what the fuck, why is there a stranger in here? ", Seonghwa tried to say while San's hand accidentally hit his face.

"It's not what you think!", Mingi whined, unsure how to solve this situation without looking like a complete maniac. So you took it in your hands to say something.

You smiled at the two guys who pointedly tried to cover their eyes and exclaimed with glee: "Oh, I didn't know there were more handsome treats living in this household!"

~😈🖤😈~

© mingismoralloyalty

This is my own work of fiction. Do not copy, translate, feed to ai or report.

[arom-antix]

So, with the main part of this whole thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai (Samurai from here on) situation having blown over, I thought I'd make a final-for-now summary post that outlines the key points in this situation so that I can cap this for the time being. It's also for the people who've stumbled upon one of the many posts about this and have no clue where to start or don't understand the context, because yeah, there's a lot. I've had multiple people reach out who were in that situation, so here's the summary for anyone who's interested.

Links to all the posts in this situation:

Initial posts: 1. Samurai's answer w/ my response 2. Samurai's response to me

Main threads: 3. Culture and fandom thread 4. Screenshots thread

Other threads: 5. Initial receipts 6. First ask 7. First anon ask, rebuttal 8. Second anon ask 9. Third anon ask 10. Fourth anon ask 11. Fifth anon ask 12. Sixth anon ask, thread 13. Disclaimer to not misuse my posts 14. Follow-up regarding Samurai's continued hypocrisy

I will be referring back to these post in the normat "no. #".

There are multiple key players in this whole thing but seeing as this post contains primarily my words and take on things (and the others involved have honestly had enough stress about this for one month) I've elected not to tag them. You can find them in the posts I linked to. However, I will note the abscence of any real response from Samurai. I'll get into that further down.

A big thank you to everyone who's contributed to this discussion. It's been wonderful finally getting all this stuff out in the open.

Break for those who want a usable dash or don't care. But I encourage you to do so because this does matter for your fandom experience going forward.

So first, what happened? Well, the first thing to understand is that this whole thing started a long time ago, and the reason it's becoming a big thing now is pure chance. It was going to happen eventually. It happening now is just how it went. But for the sake of cohesion, I'll approach it from where the situation itself arose, especially since it displays some of the behaviours I'll be highlighting later pretty well.

The way this all kicked off was that Samurai posted no. 1 in response to an ask about the canon vs. fanon spelling of Yuuri and Viktor's names. In this response Samurai was pretty rude and demeaning towards Japanese name translation inconsistencies. There was also a minor spelling error. I pointed these things out in a reblog of Samurai's post which can also be found in no. 1. Now, Samurai did respond to this, but not in the way you'd think. She didn't reblog my post. Instead, she quietly edited the spelling error in her original post (just became incorrect in a different way), and then reblogged that new version of her own post and tagged me in it. Strange, but okay, I guess. In her response she apologised for the cultural insensitivity and explained that English was not her first language which, sure, that's fair. However, she also went on to explain the spelling error was actually just a misunderstanding, and then was even more wrong about Japanese in her explanation of that. Go to no. 3 to get an explanation as to why she was doubly wrong. I couldn't be bothered to start anything about this poor response, so I reblogged it so people could see it, said "sorry if I was harsh, have a good day", and went on my way.

Later that same day I then got an ask (no. 3 and 4) about that last reblog which said that I shouldn't have apologised for being right, and explained that Samurai was not a stranger to poor behaviour and bad takes. I was already tired of Samurai and had been for a while, so I answered the ask by explaining that I just apologised to keep the peace, but I was over trying to do that anymore.

And this is where the situation took off from. People started reblogging my post with their own grievances about Samurai, including bad experiences from interacting with her, and I began getting asks where people corroborated these claims and shared their own frustrations. I won't explain those asks and reblogs here since they're in the links at the beginning, and their main points can be boiled down to the following:

Avoiding accountability Samurai has a knack for worming their way out of taking accountability for their actions. She'll divert attention from the issue at hand, she'll use whataboutism to point fingers back in your face, she'll fabricate a sympathetic angle of her actions and use your natural tendency to want to see the good in people against you, she'll make sure you know just how sad and insecure she is, and she'll do it all while talking like she's an expert. Like when she responded to my post but didn't actually admit that the spelling mistake was just that. A mistake. She didn't have some advanced knowledge that she proceeded to explain. She was just wrong. Twice. And she couldn't even just say "Ah sorry, my finger slipped."

Victim complex She's also always the victim. She doesn't get enough engagement? The fandom doesn't understand her. She's trying so hard, why are worse posts getting attention when she makes such high quality stuff? The fandom must be rotting from the inside with no academics left to admire her supreme intellect. Someone posts an anylisis similar to hers? Plagiarism! Thievery! Piracy! It could never be because there are only so many scenes and conclusions to draw about said scene in a show that people have been analysing for eight years. Someone disagrees with a conclusion of hers? Well they're an acephobe, of course! A bigoted Karen who's trying to erase the real academics in the fandom! God forbid someone criticises her? Blocked, blocked, blocked, the fandom is so toxic, omg, she needs to get better at recognising fake friends, smh.

Manipulating the narrative As you might not be surprised, she also loves being in control of what her audience sees of the discourse she gets into. See: her not reblogging my post and instead making a separate post when that was more work than just responding directly. She's also notorious for editing her posts so when people criticise them she can feign ignorance and claim she never said that. And in terms of the individuals who've been intimidated into silence by Samurai and her entourage, if their stories got out, that would be a catastrophe, right? It would hurt her precious reputation after all.

General Manipulation and Gaslighting And yeah, that leads us to the big one. Now, these are hefty accusations and I'm especially bringing up the latter a bit dubiously. However, I think it needs to be said that many of the tactics she uses are manipulation strategies. I'm saying that as someone who's been at the receiving end of these methods. They get you to shut up. They get you to doubt your own judgement. They get you to think things you wouldn't have otherwise. And, most importantly, they get you to forgive things you never would. They worm themselves into your brain and get you to question your own ability to make decisions and understand the world. And that right there where it becomes gaslighting. Again, I'm not saying Samurai is being all that extreme but I am saying that she's leading people down the slippery slope of accepting this type of behaviour by convincing them that it's actually okay because she said so.

Insincerity This overlaps a good amount with manipulation, but I thought it was necessary to point out separately, because she's notorious for it. As was mentioned in no. 12, she has repeatedly displayed disingenuous behaviour across social medias and has used those different behaviours to twist the story into what she wants it to be, so she comes out of it looking either like a victim or like an underdog and saviour of the fandom. Is it a crime to want to look good online? Of course not. Does she use that liberty to fabricate a benevolent image of herself despite repeatedly not living up to said image? Very much so.

Bullying and Namecalling This goes back to how I mentioned her accusing people of being acephobes for not agreeing with her very important and perfectly correct analyses. Beyond this, she has also called people illiterate for not agreeing with her analyses as if these "academic" takes of hers are so obviously right that only someone incapable of accessing the source material would disagree, has called someone a Nazi for using the actual current DSM-5 medical term for autism (as far as I've been informed in private, see no. 3, 4, and 5 for partial context), and has recently become very fond of calling people dicks.

Superiority complex This all of course comes down to the actual issue at the bottom of all of this: Samurai thinks she's better than the rest of us. She thinks she's more academic, more literate, more intellectual, and laments the lack of people who can match her frea- I mean, level. No weird takes on her blog as she says (no. 4). This is a "dick" move to use her own vocabulary but is even worse when you realise that she's not all that academic or intellectual herself. Which, by the way, is completely fine! You don't need a PhD to discuss anime men. However, she makes it sound like that. She belittles posts that aren't as "academic" as hers simply because they upset her or have more interactions. She belittles the entire fandom simply because other people don't subscribe to her lonely intellectual narrative and enjoy fandom casually. She insists that her analyses are better than other metas when the academia she's so proud of isn't even really there in a lot of them. And she will absolutely make you feel worthless for thinking you can contribute to the fandom on her level because no one is as good as her.

Do I really care much about some arrogant loser on the Internet? No. Do I care that she's belittling her entire community by ridiculing their contributions and positioning herself as the one true deliverer of gospel? Absolutely. See, the issue isn't just that she's arrogant. It's that that's not enough for her. She pushes the rest of the community down so that she can feel even more superior. She also routinely complains about her lack of engagement which, wow, what a mystery, what might be scaring them away? But secondly, she's indirectly belittling the support the fans of her content are giving her. No. 11 is from one such fan who experienced this. Let it be made clear that Samurai might genuinely want to form a community and be social, but she does not see herself like the rest of us when it comes down to it. She sees herself as better. Or, at the very least, she posts as if she does.

Okay, that's all well and good, but Arom, why does this matter? Isn't it just petty fandom drama? Why should we care? Well, you should care because the people who've been hurt by this behaviour and those who've left the fandom to be free of it are your peers. They're not random Internet strangers. The next one could be your close fandom friend. The one after that could be you. The reason I'm making this post is so that you can understand how Samurai operates and not fall for her tactics. They're incredibly easy to start forgiving. I've been there. You have to catch this stuff before it turns into something legitimately damaging. I also want you guys to be able to take this situation with you and apply what you've learned to other actually dangerous people. I don't consider Samurai dangerous. To be frank, I consider her an immature embarrassment. Can she hurt you? Of course, but the scope will be limited. However, there are plenty of people of there who are much better at doing these things and do them far more insidiously with far worse goals. I want you all to be able to realise before it's too late. I was in one of those much more insidious friendships once even if the goals weren't any worse than Samurai's. They sneak up on you so damn fast.

And now, because I know some of Samurai's entourage might be itching to hit me back with this: Why is this public? Shouldn't stuff like this be kept private? Isn't this just us bullying Samurai in the hallway where everyone can watch?

Now, if you're a specific person, you'll likely recognise these coming points because yes, they're lifted directly from your ask. However, seeing as this ask was not sent to me (I'll leave you guys to ponder why that is considering all other asks were) and has not been published because the recipient didn't want to spend their energy on it, I'm not going to say who the asker is nor am I going to be speaking to them directly in this part. Rebutting a statement no one but me and a few others have even read wouldn't be fair to the asker. However, the ask brings up some very common points in discussions like this that I want to catch right now before anyone starts thinking those points are good.

So first: Why is this public? Now, on the surface this seems quite reasonable to ask, right? I personally agree that private beef should stay private and that there's no need making a bigger scene out of things than necessary. But this beef isn't private. It's not a one-off thing, and it's not new. It's been happening for at the very least months and has been happening both publicly and privately on different social medias. Oh, also, it has already been attempted to be handled privately. Doing so did diddly squat. People have actually been scared into silence by attempting to handle it like that. Some things just cannot be handled one on one because one party is entering it with malicious intent.

Allegedly Samurai has also been called out in a Discord server before (no. 12) which I can't confirm but wouldn't surprise me. Guess how much that did. Nothing. Nada. Nul og niks. But then you might be asking why a second call-out is supposed to do anything, and that's where I get to the real point of this whole thing: Getting the word out. This and all the previous posts aren't about actually getting through to Samurai because I'm acutely aware that she won't actually change by being told off. She's demonstrated time and time again that she'll simply wait the situation out and then vaguepost about how much of a victim she is and how toxic her ex-friends are.

So, instead of getting her to own up, we're trying to reach everyone else. If we can make people aware of her tactics so that they can avoid her or at the very least be wary around her, I consider that a success. If we can limit her access to victims, we'll have done what we set out to do.

Second: What about Samurai's mental health? Aren't we hurting her by destroying her reputation? Well, dear reader, what about everyone she's hurt? Do they not deserve to talk about this stuff simply because it'll make Samurai upset? This might be a kind of wild suggestion, but there's a very easy way to not be publicly called out for being an arse: just don't be an arse. No one made her do these things. Like mentioned in no. 12, she destroyed her reputation all by herself. If stating aloud what someone has done ruins their reputation, then the person who did said things is at fault. Spare the messenger. They've already been hurt enough. If Samurai had simply owned up to her behaviour and apologised and made a change when people had called her out in the past, we wouldn't be here. She made this necessary. Don't feel bad for her that she's getting what was always coming to her.

Third: Why are we digging up old posts? Isn't it unfair to hold Samurai's past against them? Now, I want you to notice what this whole situation is actually about. Is it about a single incident? No. Is it about a set of repeated behaviours which are harmful and manipulative? Now you're onto something. I agree that digging up unrelated dirt on someone just to slander them for their past when it has no or an at best flimsy relation to what's actually being discussed is mean and unnecessary and should not be done.

However, the point of showing those older posts is to make it clear that this isn't a new thing, and it's repeated and unchanging. Bringing up their posts about being insecure and being sad about not getting traction isn't about those posts, it's about showing how much Samurai clearly cares about interaction and to point out a repeated behaviour of deflecting criticism by hiding behind insecurity and making their own fans feel bad about not being good enough. It's not about the posts. It's about explaining why Samurai is uncomfortable to be around.

Oh and fourth because this is the funniest thing: What about the new fans? They'll think we're all mean and negative! Okay so first of all, and please excuse my French, absolutely dogshit take. "What about the new fans?" Dude, what about the ones who are already here and are being driven away by Samurai's awful and demeaning behaviour? What about the people who've been hurt and are finally being heard? What about when the new fans see Samurai calling others acephobes and Nazis for disagreeing with her? Is that not driving them away? Is that not projecting negativity?

Now, yes, that was targeted towards the asker because oh my fucking stars, I haven't seen a take that bad in a while. If you want to ignore or criticise this point of mine, go ahead because I can't source it and the asker's full statement isn't publicly available so I'm aware that this is a weak argument. But I want everyone to know that if you've been ignored and demeaned and called names for simply trying to assert yourself, you're allowed to be negative publicly. You're allowed to publicly make it clear that someone isn't listening privately and so you're speaking in the only place they can't ignore. You're allowed to not be peachy and positive at all times just because a new fan might come across your post. You don't have to treat every post and word you make public as an exhaustive representation of the entire fandom.

And so, with all of this outlined, I have a personal message for Samurai and Co.: Do. Better. I know you can because I've seen you interact amicably with the fanbase multiple times. I'm not here to tell you to get off the Internet and I'm not here to get you to stop participating in fandom. What I am here for is to get you to treat the fanbase with the respect it deserves. You're not better than people just because you're queer. It's the Yuri!!! On Ice fandom. Basically everyone is queer. Get over yourselves. Develop some maturity and accept that you can be contradicted. Accept that not everyone will agree with you. Accept that just because you point really hard at canon, your analyses will still just be theories. And that's okay. You don't need to be an academic to be part of fandom. You don't even need to be right. You can be straight up wrong and still be allowed to be here. However, you also have to let others do all that stuff too. You can't tell people to be nice and then not be so yourself. Fandom is collaboration which means that sometimes you have to just accept that some members of the group have takes you disagree with or find straight up stupid. However, that does not give you the right to tell them they're doing fandom wrong or claim that your way of doing it is better. Because that's how you come across. Whether intentionally or not, that's the message you're sending. Stop acting suprior. It's actually very easy and frankly embarrasing that you haven't figured out how to not be insufferable yet. You're adults. Act. Like. It.

Finally, and I promise this will he the last thing: What do we do now? Samurai has been exposed, hasn't responded, and will probably just wait for this to blow over. What are we supposed to do with all this information? Well, you're free to choose of course, but my suggestion is to simply keep an eye on her and her entourage. They've so far showed no sign of wanting to change, and if you see them misbehaving, don't be afraid to hold them accountable, or, if you'd rather not be mixed up in this, feel free to shoot me a DM or even an anonymous ask. If I get enough reports or the reports are egregious enough, I might make a follow-up post just to keep people updated.

And if keeping a 40+ year old (yes, Samurai is really that old, I was shocked too) on an Internet leash seems extreme, just remember that she made it necessary. She clearly won't listen when people tell her directly how she's hurt them. In my opinion, some social pressure to behave is in order. All she has to do is be nice and nothing more will come of this. It's up to her. It takes a village and sometimes the entire fanbase.

So, it's up to you, Samurai. Your behaviour will be the direct catalyst for whatever I and others choose to do or not do. All you need to do is behave. If you can do that, we'll get to go our separate ways. If you can't, well, you've seen what that results in. But if you do legitimately make a visible effort to change, I'll gladly make a post about that too. I'm all for a redemption, but you're the one who has to put in the effort. Not your friends, not your fans, not your victims, not me.

Your choice. I'll be waiting.

And to anyone who's dying to tear my head off: Please read all the posts linked to at the top before responding. I'm not naming any names. You know who you are.

[agent-44mc]

a mission of liberation. 1995. part one

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Red Guardian

Warnings: none, so far.

Summary: Four years after meeting the Winter Soldier, Alexi Shostakov finds himself face to face with the man he once knew. SHIELD assigns him the mission to find and liberate him.

Word Count: 1k

notes: I don’t know where exactly this is going, I usually don’t do this, but I’m so excited about this ship I had to do something. I'm shrugging right now but in a way that i definitely know instead of what the shrug implies. tee hee. because it's so clear they should fuck so it will happen, trust. also this is unedited. i don't have time for that.

edit: why didn’t any of you tell me I was spelling Alexei wrong? I am betrayed and hurt. next chapter postponed.

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

Alexi had a good life, doing what he loved. A nice house, a dog, a job that he loved more than anything in the world, students that maybe hated him, even a potential girlfriend. Everyone knew him to be a kind spirit, maybe annoying at times with his loud personality, but after he walks through the doors of his beautiful house, feeds his dog, eats his homemade all american meal, and lays down to sleep in his goose feather bed, he thinks of someone he misses so dearly. 

Someone he knew as his best friend. 

And it didn’t feel good to think about him , like Alexi would die for it to be. His chest eroded anytime his existence was uttered by his subconscious while his mind was at rest. His “good life” kept the thoughts of him at bay, but every night, the guilt only made it worse. 

A smile shouldn’t haunt a man. Often, when the Red Guardian thought of the brutal brainwashing his lost friend had been subjected to, he couldn't help but think of his smile when he resisted it. 

The worst part, somehow, was that he didn’t even know his name. Neither of them did- but at least “The Coney Island Hero” wasn’t subjected to remembering that someone had given him that nickname. Alexi was left to suffer that. 

But there are many distractions from this- one being that he now leads a double life, working for SHIELD, doing hero-work, an umbrella term to describe anything from shutting down Nuclear Cold-War weapons and saving people from burning buildings- sometimes even cats. The bastardly things. 

Until one day, on a mission, he saw someone he’d been dreaming about. 

Alexi never went a day without seeing the shadow of The Coney Island Hero, which is why he almost brushed it aside, but then, he slapped him right in the face- which proved nothing. He was seeing The Winter Soldier now. The Shadow of The Coney Island Hero laid in him, even if he might not remember it. 

There’s one who does though, and Alexi knew that this time, he wasn’t going to lose him. He was going to liberate him, in a true American fashion.

 Brainwashing goes both ways. Alexi was going to brainwash the winter soldier back to the man he knew. The man that deserved to live a life free. 

And for reasons unknown to him, there was something deeper stirring under the surface of this fundamental belief. Something… personal. 

MISSION REPORT. 1995. 

“Get that crying baby out of here, I’m trying to talk to the woman,” Alexi ordered, slamming a fist on Peggy’s  desk with a scowl. “This is important, little girl!”

The baby mirrored his scowl. “I’m thwee,” she said, sticking out her tongue and holding her Dad’s hand a little tighter.

“You are a  very cute baby, I cannot stay angry for long,” Alexi gave in, waving as she walked out, grinning ear to ear at the sight. “Goodbye baby.”

Silence wavered between them as Alexi smiled silently, staking in the sights of the stuffy brown office that overlooked the streets of New York City, various noises fading into white noise as he let himself drift away to another place. It was subconscious at this point. 

Coney Island. He’d been there several times hoping to run into its hero. 

He stayed there until a British accent woke him back up. “Alexi, you came here very passionate about something, would you like to… elaborate further on what you saw?” 

“Uh, what?” Alexi stuttered, “oh, yes. The Winter Soldier. I saw him there, Agent Carter. I knew him, yes I knew him well. He liberated me.” 

“The Winter Soldier? He’s a myth.. An urban legend. What makes you think you know him?” Peggy inquirered, grabbing her reading glasses from the desk in front of her, holding her files out far enough to see. 

Alexi laughed. “You cannot fool me, Agent Carter. I know you know what you say isn’t true. You may be the supreme leader of SHIELD, but I was a supreme leader of the Red Room. I knew of the Winter Soldier. But then, I knew him. He didn’t know himself though.”

She looked at him through her glasses. “Alright, fine. He does exist. But you aren’t supposed to know that. It’s what we’d all like to keep a secret.” Peggy became somber, setting down her files. “What do you mean he didn’t know himself?” 

“I mean,” Alexi began. “We bonded. He got us French fries, we had jokes, and I tried to help him remember what his name was. The best he could do was Coney Island. That means he was the hero, no?” 

“The hero? I doubt he was ever a hero. I don’t know who-“

“But he doesn’t remember. He used to be someone! Someone who is no one wouldn’t remember Coney Island,” Alexi said in confidence, his eyes traveling to outside the window once more. “Even if he wasn’t, he deserves to live free.”

“You’re saying that the Winter Soldier was brainwashed?” Peggy asked, practically in disbelief as her soldiers squared, only slightly looking down at her feet when Alexi earnestly nodded his head. 

She got up and walked around the room, seemingly deep in thought about something, in such a manor that made him twist his fingers anxiously in wait for whatever she was going to say next. Perhaps “you’re crazy, we’re taking your job and your money.”  or worse, “there’s nothing we can do.”.

 Finally, she said, “Alexi, I’m giving  you a mission.”

Alexi shot up like lighting to his feet, turning around the face Peggy, who had her hands neatly clasped behind her back, a serious look of final determination on her aged face. 

“Yes ma’am?” Alexi asked, his heart practically breaking through his ribs. 

“Find and free The Winter Soldier.” 

<> part 2 out now

[loosenedinsanity]

viktor's name being spelled wrong: part one

"Hey, Vik,” he calls out to his friend.

“Yes?” he replies from the closet.

“Remember the first time we worked on something together?”

Viktor’s head pokes out from the side of the doorway. “Yes. I seem to recall it like it was yesterday, because it was quite literally yesterday.”

“You said something about people spelling your name wrong… why’d you say that?” His partner’s face flips through emotions, caught off guard before he ducks back into the closer.

“Because you said you’d spell it wrong?”

“Oh.” Jayce fidgets with his hands. “But… I was joking.”

“Well, you might be,” Viktor says drily.

“What do you mean by that?”

There’s a thump, followed by a crash from the closet that results in Jayce standing up, worried, craning his neck to check on his partner that stumbles out of the room, reaching for his cane.

“I don’t understand what’s so hard to realize, Jayce. You might need glasses, because aside from Heimerdinger, you are the only one who willingly talks to me, and it’s all because… well, I am from the ‘Undercity’ and have a weird name?” Viktor sighs. “I suppose. I don’t know. So please, just drop it.”

From then on, it was hard for Jayce to hear Viktor and not think of his partner, the strange one who spelled his name in typical fashion. They work in silence for a bit longer. Viktor finally notices what Jayce had seen ten minutes ago.

“Hm,” is all he says, rubbing his chin before clicking out of the tab and switching back to the reports.

“That’s it? You’re not… mad?” Jayce asks, confused.

“Why would I be? It is useless to complain about something that will always occur, no matter what,” Viktor sighs.

“Well, that just won’t do.” Jayce kicks back from the table, leaving his chair swirling across the room as he storms for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Viktor asks, slightly bemused.

“To talk to the… technology lady,” Jayce says, flushing. “I don’t know her name, but I’ll find her.”

And sure enough, after five minutes of searching and another twenty minutes of arguing, Jayce returns back to the office, dragging his chair over to the office, a sullen expression on his face.

“What happened?” Viktor teases. “She did not listen?”

“Apparently, she can’t do anything for the final edition. We’re just supposed to revise it to ‘ensure we’re in the correct section’. Like they’d mess that up too.”

“You’d be surprised.” Viktor hums and turns back to his computer.

[sleepdeprivedandoverthinking]

Franco is NOT a victim.I think you all saw that one post. Franco is not a victim, no one forced him to murder those innocent women. He did it for his own pleasure. Yes, he had a bad childhood, but a character's bad past is used to explain why they're like that and not used as a justification for their actions.

This should be OBVIOUS.

Those women he killed were already struggling with life, they were sex workers who were looked down upon that time and still are. Defending Franco and saying that those women deserved it, or dismissing his actions just shows that you are misogynistic.

I don't care that it's fictional. You are misogynistic.

"All male characters are victims and all female characters are bitches" that's how you sound like. Franco was abused by MEN in his life, women did nothing to him, he chose to murder them."He didn't know any better!" He is not a LITTLE BABY! He is a grown ass man canonically in his late 20s. He is very aware of his actions and knows that it's wrong. I can't believe we have to have this discussion in 2024. Just because he's a fictional character doesn't mean you can freely support his actions, his actions are not fictional and they happened in real life A LOT.

???

Is this dude serious???

I never named a specific character at all???

I literally RELATE to Anya's struggles if that's what you mean, as a victim of assault and harassment. What on earth do I gain from dismissing her struggles and hurt either way??

I don't support any action of any outlast character, obviously.

I'M SO CONFUSED I NEVER SAID FRANCO'S NAME ONCE IN MY POST ARE YOU CONFUSING ME WITH SOMEONE ELSE????

I just talked about how Outlast and Mouthwashing have similar fandoms but different ways they handle it, never did I outright defend a character or even say a character's name, other than Jimmy (And FYI I hate Jimmy still).

I'm so confused, because I never said Franco's name once. If you're talking about tags, I only used them for reach, like MOST fandom posts do.

I never said I supported the actions of Jimmy or any outlast character.

This question is making me so confused and I wonder if you just have the wrong guy.

Edit: The spelling in the post is so crap because I just woke up to this

[dullgecko]

bear with me here bc this is a semi long one? a few weeks ago (i meant to send it then too but was intimidated) a friend and i were talking and had Thoughts as to how the Bad Kids would text- and so i kinda wanted to say our takes and see yours.

also i am so sorry bc this was longer than i meant it to be.

Adaine (Freshman year) uses proper grammar and punctuation. her texts would be the most like reading a formal paper. no typos (or next to none), point succinct, and one message. also no slang or contractions, at least at first. Junior year? not much has changed, but she uses some emojis and abbreviations. in her crystal, all the gang is their name and maybe an emoji to represent them. her texts are all typed out in the messages app, especially long ones. she Knows what shes saying- although there is definitely a lot of editing bc anxiety be like that

Fabian? he used all the text slang, minimal punctuation. especially in freshman year, he wanted to be seen as cool and, in some ways, tough. come junior year? he Knows he's cool- hes the maximum legend. minimal typos (intentional ones Not included), Everyone is a nickname (he'd never admit it, but Riz is *not* in as "The Ball", hes in as "The Ball (🕵️‍♂️🔍🏀)", or some other combination of emojis with it). Punctuation? optional. *hates* double texting, but also doesn't go back and edit his messages as he writes them so sometimes theyre a little out of order.

Fig? her messages are often chaos. a few more typos, will send different thoughts as messages. uses some slang, but not always (it depends on her mood). the rest of the gang is under some sort of nickname/initials/hyper specific reference that most wont understand. some are fully just emoji combos. Will use emojis regularly, will use slang, doesn't care if she makes typos. long messages are done in her notes app, and the app is definetly passcode protected (except its the date of her first kiss with Ayda so its easy to guess). punctuation? nah. capitalization? rarely

Gorgug? doesn't use capitalization, but does use punctuation. changes how he types when talking to TBK or his parents. a few typos, but hes probably got autocorrect on so most don't slip through. tends to get his thoughts out in minimal messages. his friemds are in as their names, nothing special. some text slang, some emojis, but not often.

Kristen? if you think Fig's style is a mess, Kristen's is worse. Her friends are all under nicknames and emojis, her messages filled with typos, autocorrect and auto capitalization are off, and she rarely uses punctuation. will double text, her sentences are run ons, she over uses emojis, and she over uses text slang.

Riz? his texting depends on what he's doing. working a case? likely to have a few more typos or words that don't have spaces between them. will shorten words so less focus is off the case. when he isn't busy, will send a whole essay if he's asking a simple question. autocorrect is off because it annoys him and kept saying his name was wrong, but his crystal does automatically capitalize words. his friends are in as nicknames plus a couple emojis to identity them quickly. doesn't use emojis often, at least when texting, but will often react with them instead of responding.

Adaine is for sure the bad kid that has the most impeccable grammar when texting. Its almost like she's writing a formal letter, though she does chill out a bit after sophomore year and starts typing more casually. At the very least she stops beginning her texts with 'To *name*' and ending them with 'Regards, Adaine Abernant'.

Fabian would be almost as bad as Adaine, have you heard the man talk? Though he does sometimes not bother with the grammar and spelling if he's tired. Frequently uses emojis. Sends pictures CONSTANTLY.

Riz is a multiple texter. He needs to get the thoughts out of his brain NOW and he'll be damned if he's going to properly format those texts. Fabian has to suffer through this the most and sometimes he'll get about 20 texts in rapid succession as Riz infodumps on him as quickly as possible. Has the small issue that if he's tired he'll forget the common words for things and Fabian gets a horrible mishmash of thoughts that are half ghukliak spelled out phonetically (because of course his crystal doesnt have a goblin keyboard setting) and completely incomprehensible. It's more likely to happen at 3am and the ONLY way you should respond to these texts is 'go to bed' or you'll get 50 more.

Gorgug is the most normal out of everyone. Just texts like a regular guy. Will sometimes multi-text but its not excessive. His messages are at least understandable.

Fig is almost as bad as Riz with the multi-texting. Could vibrate your crystal right off the table if she's in a mood. Texts flip between pictures and messages constantly. Punctuation and spelling are an afterthought.

Kristen will read a text message, make a note to reply to it later then forget about it. If you need an immediate answer from her about anything you're better off calling.