#i stack them like jenga blocks

[sycamorelibrary754]

You can change any details to this if you like, this is just an idea & ofc, you don't have to write it 🥰

Yelena's had it bad for Reader since they met, she never said anything and never acted on her feelings. But when Reader and Kate go on a first date, it rattles Yelena who turns to Nat or Melina for help.

Yelena can either confess her feelings to reader or she sees how much Kate and Reader make each other happy and puts on a brave face and stays silent in hopes the feelings will go away eventually

Blondie

Summary: Yelena has harbored feelings for you since you met but never acted on them. It isn't until you start getting close to Kate that all those feelings come to the forefront. 

Pairings: Yelena x reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: None

A/N: Thank you for the request, it was fun! I hope you enjoy it!

"Yelena… Yelena!” Kate said firmly.

“Earth to the widow,” Clint added.

The blonde shook her head as if to clear out the fog and tore her eyes away from you. "Hmm, what?" she asked, looking at them in confusion.

"It's your move," Kate said, pointing at the Jenga tower before them.

She nodded in understanding, apologizing for her absent-mindedness, and then reached out to remove a block from the stack, trying her best not to topple the tower.

Yelena's eyes wandered over to you once again. You were seated at the kitchen island with your tablet, engrossed in reviewing the blueprints for new weapon upgrades with Tony. As always, you were Stark’s favorite engineer. Thanks to a grant from the September Foundation at MIT, you worked your way up at Stark Industries from an intern to becoming the genius’s partner in the lab.

Yelena would be lying if she said she wasn't completely enamored with you from the moment she met you. She watched Tony give you a fist bump as your impromptu meeting ended. Yelena rushed over to try and catch you before you left. She was barely able to wedge her arm in the elevator doors just as they closed.

"Hey there, blondie! How are you?" you greeted her warmly, adjusting the leather strap on your bag.

"Good… I'm good," Yelena murmured, stepping onto the elevator with you.

"I'm excited for you to see the new weapons upgrades tomorrow. I think you'll enjoy it. I wanted to do something special for you," you winked.

Before Yelena could respond, the elevator stopped, and the doors opened to reveal Tony's lab.

"Well, this is my stop. See you later, Yelena," you said with a friendly smile.

"Okay, bye," Yelena called out as the doors closed. "Ugh, what is wrong with me?!"

"From what I can detect, Ms. Belova, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with you," FRIDAY said. "Would you like me to run a full body scan?"

"Quiet, FRIDAY," Yelena grumbled.

*^~^*

The next day, Yelena joined the rest of the team in the spacious training area to test their new weapon upgrades. You wanted to meticulously evaluate each weapon, assessing their accuracy, efficiency, and overall ease of use. 

As the team familiarized themselves with their new weapons, Kate casually commented about you. "Y/N is so cute, don’t you think?" she said, nudging Yelena.

Yelena glanced at you, observing as you took notes on your tablet. You had a look of determination on your face as you playfully swatted Tony away from leaning over your shoulder.

"Yeah, if you like mini Tony Stark’s. Sure, she’s cute," she responded with a sigh.

Kate continued, "I think we’ve shared some eye contact here and there. You know Peter told me that she told him in their last lab session that she was on the archery team in high school, too."

Yelena rolled her eyes. "How riveting, Kate Bishop."

Just then, you interrupted their conversation and asked, "How are we doing over here, girls?"

"Good!" they both answered simultaneously.

You couldn't help but smile at their synchronized response, raising an eyebrow at the girls, but you decided to let it slide.

"Okay, Kate, let's start with you. I know you've been bugging Clint for labeled arrows, but I thought you deserved something more streamlined," you explained. "So, I got to work and was able to integrate a pinpoint version of Edith into your quiver."

The archer looked at you with curiosity and excitement as you placed her quiver full of arrows over her shoulder.

"Hello, Kate Bishop," Edith said, her voice clear and crisp.

"Oh, hello," Kate replied, looking slightly bewildered.

"I am Edith. Tony Stark's augmented reality security and defense system. Standby for biometric scan." 

"Okie dokie," Kate mumbled, still staring at the quiver in amazement.

With a soft beep, Edith announced that the biometric scan was complete.

"All you have to do is call for the type of arrow you want. Give it a try," you explained.

"Flare arrow," Kate said, her voice firm and confident.

In response, a small metal claw emerged from the side of the container, deftly pulling a flare arrow from the quiver and placing it against the bow, ready for Kate to pull back into position.

"Whoa! This is so cool! No more fumbling for arrows. Thank you so much, Y/N. I love it!" Kate exclaimed, her eyes wide with wonder as she hugged you.

"You're more than welcome," you replied, slightly taken aback by the sudden display of affection.

Yelena tried to distract herself by fiddling with her rings, but she couldn't help but notice the way your cheeks turned red when Kate embraced you. 

"Hey there, blondie!" you exclaimed, clapping your hands. "You're up next, and I can't wait for this one. I've been dying to take a stab at your knives, no pun intended," you giggled mischievously.

You brought over a case and opened it to reveal a brand new set of knives for Yelena. 

She looked down, puzzled. "They look the same as my other ones.”

"To the untrained eye," you replied, picking up a knife, "but these babies are electrically charged, just like your widow bites."

With one swift motion, you sliced through the air, unleashing a burst of electrifying blue energy from the knife's blade.

Yelena's eyes sparkled with surprise and gratitude, "Wow, thank you, Y/N. These knives are so cool and exactly what I needed."

"I was hoping you’d say that," you replied, pushing your glasses back up the bridge of your nose.

“And I must say, you look pretty good holding that knife,” Yelena smirked.

"Oh, thank you,” you giggled. “Listen, do you think maybe—"

Suddenly, a loud crashing sound interrupted your conversation. You both turned your heads to find Peter lying disheveled underneath a mesh net at the other end of the training area.

"Oh, come on,” you let out a frustrated sigh. “I’ve got to see if Parker is okay; I’ll try to catch up with you later, Yelena."

Once again, Yelena found herself alone, longing to speak her heart to you.

*^~^*

Yelena fought to maintain her hold on two brimming buckets of popcorn and a handful of candy as she made her way toward the movie theater. She glanced at Natasha and inquired, "Can you remind me why we're in charge of all this popcorn and candy again?"

Wanda made a promise to Billy and Tommy that we would all go see Dune Part 2 together and even paid for our tickets. Nat suggested, "The least we can do is cover the snacks.

Yelena sighed and conceded, "Alright, I hear you. But I think the two mini-Maximoffs could lend a hand with some of this stuff."

They eagerly passed candy and popcorn to Wanda and the boys as they settled into their seats. The theater crackled with anticipation as everyone eagerly awaited the movie's start. A familiar voice filled the theater all at once, prompting everyone to silence their phones before the feature presentation began quickly.

"Hello, movie-goers! Captain America here," he said with a crisp salute.

Wanda quipped, "Oh, good Lord. Looks like we'll never escape from him, huh?

“Get ready for an immersive movie experience! Just a friendly reminder: please make sure to turn off all recording devices and silence your cell phones before the movie begins. Let's all enjoy the show without any interruptions!” Cap said.

In an instant, Yelena's ears perked up at a familiar giggle a few rows down. She glanced around, but it wasn't until she rose from her seat that her eyes locked on you, cheekily sharing a carton of popcorn and candy with Kate Bishop, donning an adorable olive green jumpsuit and glasses.

Yelena felt her heart sink as she struggled to process her emotions. Finally, all she managed to say was, "We need more candy."

"Wait, did we just buy out the whole candy display?" Nat exclaimed.

Yelena dashed down the steps and out of the theater, insisting, “Then we need Vodka!”

"Sestra! What's the matter?" Nat called out, her voice filled with concern. She looked at her sister, puzzled until her gaze landed on you and Kate. "Oh man..." she breathed out, realizing the situation.

Natasha turned to Wanda and promised, "I'll be right back.

"Take all the time you need," Wanda reassured her with a comforting smile.

Yelena sat on the carpet outside the theater, her elbows propped on her knees, lost in thought. When Natasha found her, the redhead quietly joined her, mirroring her posture.

Nat kept her gaze fixed ahead and asked softly, "Are you okay?

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" Yelena responded, not bothering to glance at her sister.

Nat was gentle, "Maybe it's because Y/N is sitting in there with Kate?"

"Good for her," Yelena said, with a hint of insincerity in her voice as she tried to mask her true feelings.

"Yelena," Nat began, her voice filled with worry.

I don't want to discuss this, Natasha," she said sharply as she got to her feet. "Please let Wanda and the boys know I apologize, but I need to leave.

Nat urgently reached for her phone and quickly dialed the only number she could think of. "Hi, I think Yelena really needs you right now," she said with concern in her voice.

*^~^*

As Yelena dashed through the compound, she brushed past Peter and MJ, who called out to her, inviting her to join them in a game of Monopoly. Tears streamed down Yelena's cheeks as she hurried to her room and closed the door behind her.

"Having a tough day?" A comforting voice chimed in from behind her, filled with empathy and kindness.

Yelena was shocked to see Melina, sitting on her bed with a comforting smile. "Mama? What are you doing here?" she exclaimed, completely surprised to find her mother in her room instead of being in St. Petersburg.

"Hi there, sweetie," Melina greeted her warmly. "Natalia gave me a call," she explained.

"How did you manage to get here so quickly?" Yelena inquired

"I have my ways," Melina said with a confident smile as she leaned back against the plush pillows on her bed. "Do you want to talk about what's bothering you?" she asked gently, patting the space beside her, inviting Yelena to sit and open up about her troubles.

After a fleeting moment, she relented and settled down next to her mother. "I'm sure Natasha has already briefed you," she murmured.

"Yes, but there are times when having a conversation can make a difference," Melina said kindly.

Yelena braced herself before finally sharing her secret. "Mom, there's this girl, Y/N," she admitted, her voice filled with emotion. "She's Stark's top engineer and just... incredible. She understands me like no one else does. She sees beyond the labels of widow, assassin, or hero. She's brilliant and beautiful, and I can't get her out of my mind," Yelena revealed, her voice laced with vulnerability.

Her mother patiently listened and asked, 'Have you expressed your feelings to her?'

Yelena's heart sank as she admitted, "No, I haven't. Every time I try to talk to her, I get all flustered and tongue-tied. And now it's too late anyway because she's at the movies with Kate Bishop," she replied, her voice filled with disappointment.

"Don't give up so easily. Y/N will never know how you feel unless you tell her," she encouraged.

Yelena asked, 'What do you think I should say?'

"I can't tell you what to say,” Melina said. “That has to come from your heart. You will know what to say when the moment feels right.”

Yelena let out a deep sigh, her voice filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Mama. I honestly don't know how I'd manage without you," she said, enveloping her mother tightly.

"You're welcome, sweetheart. I will always be here for you," holding her youngest daughter close.

*^~^*

Yelena found herself unable to shake thoughts of you in the days following her heartfelt discussion with Melina. Despite this, she was determined to train the recruits, viewing it as a challenging but welcome distraction.

"Jack, focus on your target! That's it! Now, block and counter. Great job, well executed," she encouraged amidst the flurry of punches and kicks.

She was so engrossed in the training that she failed to notice your approach from behind.

"Hey, Yelena," you called out. Startled, she jumped with a small gasp. You quickly apologized, "Oh, I'm sorry, blondie! It's just me," while holding your hands up in defense.

Yelena, slightly embarrassed, replied, "Oh, Y/N. Hi. I didn't see you there."

"You're a spy. Shouldn't you be able to see everything?" you playfully questioned.

“You would think so,” she replied, absentmindedly fidgeting with her rings again. “So, what's up?” she asked, picking up her belongings.

I've been meaning to ask you if I've done something to upset you. It might just be in my head, but I can't shake the feeling that you've been avoiding me for the past few days,” you said nervously, running your hands through your hair.

Yelena's water bottle slipped from her grasp and tumbled to the ground, causing her heart to sink. "Oh no, Y/N. It's not your fault. I've just been swamped with mission reports and trying to whip these goofballs into shape."

“Phew, that's a relief,” you exhaled. “I was a bit concerned when I saw you leaving the movie theater the other day—”

Yelena's face went pale. "You saw me?"

Yeah...” you said slowly. “You were with Nat, Wanda, and the twins.

"Yes! But then I suddenly remembered I had a meeting and had to rush off," Yelena explained hastily.

"Oh, I was worried you left because of me," you said, anxiously shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

"Yelena, I just wanted to - " but before I could finish, FRIDAY interrupted.

"Ms. Y/L/N, Mr. Stark needs to speak with you," FRIDAY interrupted.

As your head dropped in defeat, you grumbled to FRIDAY, "Tell him I'm busy."

“Mr. Stark says if you don’t come right now, he will have Peter shadow you for a month,” FRIDAY warned.

“Damn it,” you muttered.

“Duty calls,” Yelena said light-heartedly.

“I guess so," you sighed, "but I do want to chat with you. Can we meet up after work? I'll be done at 6:30.”

"Absolutely, I'd be happy to meet you in the common area," Yelena suggested.

"Great, looking forward to it," you said with a thumbs up as you casually backed out of the gym.

You thought you had pulled off a pretty smooth move, but you failed to take notice of the duffle bags on the floor and fell backward onto your butt. Yelena couldn't help but giggle at you.

You leaped to your feet, shouting, "I'm okay! I'm okay!" before jogging out of the gym.

*^~^*

Yelena was consumed by anxiety for several hours, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of your impending conversation. When she eventually descended to the common area, she felt a mix of annoyance and resignation upon finding Sam and Bucky engrossed in a game of PS5 on the sofa.

"Hey, Tweedledee and Tweedledum, clear out. I need the room!" she yelled, tossing a pillow at the two guys.

“We were here first,” Bucky insisted.

"Get out, now," Yelena said firmly.

"Hey, being Natasha's sister doesn't give you the right to barge in and boot us out," Sam shot back.

"Get out of here now, or Natasha's sister is going to kick both your asses," Yelena declared, blocking the television and daring them to challenge her.

"What's so important that we must take off right now?" Bucky inquired.

As the elevator dinged and the doors opened, there you were, standing with your messenger bag casually slung over your shoulder. The glare from your phone danced off your glasses, adding an air of mystery to your entrance.

“Ah, now I get it," Bucky concurred, solving the puzzle himself. "Hey, Sam, time to move out!

“Right behind you,” Sam said.

“Thank you," Yelena murmured, quickly kicking their PS5 controllers under the coffee table and adjusting the pillows as you strolled into the room.

Thanks for meeting me so late," you sighed as you settled beside Yelena. "I swear, that man can drive me crazy sometimes. When I got to the lab, he was in a full-on meltdown because his anniversary present for Pepper went up in flames. And then he started pacing back and forth, mumbling about how he would make it up to her. It was like watching a tornado in human form.

Yelena interrupted abruptly before you could continue, "I like you," she exclaimed.

You stammered, "What...what do you mean?" in a puzzled and shaky voice.

I apologize if this isn't the ideal way to express it," Yelena hurriedly continued. "I understand that you might be about to tell me that you're involved with Kate Bishop, but I want to tell you that I have feelings for you. I admire how your cute glasses slide down your nose when immersed in your work. I enjoy listening to your amusing engineering anecdotes, even if I have no idea what you are talking about. Your kindness and compassion toward everyone in this building, regardless of their background or role, genuinely resonate with me. Above all, I appreciate the way you perceive me. You truly see me, which I've longed for but never experienced.

Yelena's mind raced to keep pace with her words as she murmured, "Oh my God, what am I doing? I should go."

But as she tried to walk away, you grabbed her hand, bringing her to a halt. The air crackled with tension as you both stood there in silence, hands tightly intertwined, neither daring to speak.

Then, finally, you spoke up, "Yelena, I'm glad you told me because… I like you too. That is what I wanted to talk to you about. It’s what I've been trying to tell you for the past week,” you explained. “Kate and I are just friends, I don't have any feelings for her that way. Honestly, I thought it was obvious. I like you, blondie. I always have."

Your words seemed to soothe Yelena's worries, and she slowly sat back down beside you, the tension in her body dissipating.

“Oh, wow,” Yelena sighed.

With a smirk, you finally said, "Wow, indeed… would it be okay if I kissed you?" 

"Yes,” Yelena said softly. 

As your bodies drew closer, your lips met in a slow, tender kiss. The intimacy between you both was palpable as the warmth of your breath mingled and your eyes locked in a gaze that spoke a thousand words. The softness of the kiss turned into a passionate embrace that ignited a spark of desire in both your hearts, a spark that would change your lives forever. At that moment, nothing else mattered but the connection you shared, a deep, unbreakable bond that would grow stronger with time.

[darcytaylor]

Idk if anyone else is having the same experience as me, but as a fandom neutral who doesn't ship anyone, I don't feel any sort of way about the recent info we've been getting? I don't feel like we're learning anything new, this is pretty much what's been going on, it's status quo.

What's been interesting for me to observe in this situation is the fandom meltdown surrounding it in response to what is essentially no news? It's like a giant Jenga tower of conjecture, wishful thinking and rumors was stacked up to high heaven and now a bottom piece has been pulled out, but the blocks where never from the same set to begin with, so they never even fit together properly? Some of the fans built narratives on top of other narratives and they've basically hurt themselves by ignoring crucial information but at the same time leaning into what they've interpreted as hints of things that they want to happen or be true.

Nic and Luke haven't addressed anything one way or the other and the fandom has sort of diverged into its own thing, almost separate from the people it's supposedly built around, and any info that challenges the favorite narratives is pushed against vehemently, which only perpetuates the cycle of hurt when more of it emerges.

Nothing has actually happened here. Nic is traveling with friends and attending events related to her field of work. Luke is potentially on vacation with his partner, perhaps visiting her family. These are things we've seen them do in the past multiple times, both with the same and different people. Maybe the response is so outsized because they did an unexpected thing in that they posted hints about what they were doing? But at the same time, the fandom whipped itself into a frenzy of anticipation over stories that were very innocuous at heart?

Anyway, I think we've reached a point of disconnect between fandom and celeb that can't be reconciled atp. It feels like a disembodied cluster for the sake of community and having something - anything - to connect over. It hasn't been about the actual people at the core of it for a long time.

This is such a well-articulated take! I agree with your observations, especially the idea of the fandom almost evolving away from the actual people at the core. It feels like the narratives some fans have built for themselves have created a feedback loop, where every new piece of "information" is filtered through an already established lens, even if that information doesn’t actually say anything new.

The Jenga metaphor you used is really good! People have built these intricate structures on top of speculation, and when even the smallest piece doesn’t fit or gets pulled out, the whole thing topples into chaos. I think you’re right that the disconnect between fandom and the actual people has been growing for a while now. And it’s probably made worse by the fact that neither Nicola and Luke aren't addressing anything directly, which leaves a vacuum that fans keep trying to fill with their own ideas.

I also love how you pointed out that Nicola and Luke are just doing things we've seen before - traveling, spending time with friends and/or partners - yet the response to these normal activities is wild. It's like the fandom may be searching for something that isn't there. Maybe that’s why things feel so dramatic when, in reality, it’s business as usual for them.

Thanks for sending this in! I think your perspective is a breath of fresh air in all the noise surrounding this situation. It really does feel like a reminder to take a step back and let things unfold naturally rather than force narratives that may lead to frustration!

I also want to add that it's okay to ship whoever you want together. Everyone is entitled to their own preferences and interpretations. And I think it can be fun. However, when that leads to leaving awful comments - towards others, myself included in that - because I don’t take it at face value, it becomes toxic. That might be a sign that it’s time to take a step back and let things just unfold naturally.

[resident-gay-bitch]

"that's not how you do it." steve said, his tone a little bitchy as he looked at the curly haired boy sitting on the floor in the doctors waiting room across from him.

"what do you mean that's not how you do it?" the boy said with a shriek, holding the ken and gi joe dolls in his hands out aggressively, "they're dolls! they have no rules, idiot."

"don't call me that, i'm not an idiot. i'll tell my mum on you." steve poked his tongue out.

"dibber dobber." the boy poked his tongue right back out, "plus, i don't think you know much about playing with toys because you're stacking jenga wrong."

"i'm building a house with it." steve said simply, stacking another block onto it.

"it's a shit house." the boy said, going back to his dolls.

steve gasped, "you can't say that!"

"my dad says it all the time." he shrugged, "you know, if you can build a really bad jenga house, then i think i can play with the dolls however i want."

"no." steve said, "plus, it's not a bad house!"

"it has no structural inter-egg-raty."

steve scrunched up his nose, "i don't think that's how you say that word."

"i don't care." the boy said, swinging his ken doll out to knock over steves house.

"hey!" steve gasped, and then covered his mouth to cough, "that was so mean."

"just wanted to prove my point." the boy said, "plus, if you think i'm playing dolls so wrong, then you should teach me how to do them right."

steve rolled his eyes and huffed, "fine." he crawled over to the curly haired boy, who was grinning very widely.

"so, are you joe or ken?" the boy said, holding up the dolls.

"neither." steve scoffed, "if you want to make your dolls kiss, it has to be a boy and a girl."

"nuh ahhhh." the boy shook his head out.

"yes." steve huffed, and grabbed a mangled barbie doll out of the toy box to play with, "look... barbie and ken go together. ken and gi joe aren't even close!"

"they're secret boyfriends." the boy shrugged.

"two boys can't kiss." steve glared at him, like he was dumb, and he was.

"yes they can." the boy shrugged.

"no." steve shook his head, "my dad says it's super bad and evil and will make you really sick... is that why you're here?"

the boy laughed brightly, "oh my goodness..." he wiped a tear from his eye, "are you joking me?"

steve shook his head, "no. of course not, stupid."

the boy calmed his laugh a little and smiled, "boys totally can kiss! it isn't bad or evil and it won't make you sick, i promise!" he held out the ken doll to steve, "i haven't kissed anyone... i'm only nine, you know? and i'm here because my mum is sick. why are you here?"

"i haven't kissed anyone either. i'm eight! and... i have a cough." steve shrugged, and then coughed, "mum said it has to go away before my dads work function tomorrow night, because i have to meet his work friends."

"boring." the boy blew a raspberry.

"i really don't think boys can kiss."

"boy's can kiss, just... stupid people just think its bad for some dumb reason."

"hmm." steve shrugged and held the ken doll up, "it looks stupid."

"all kissing looks stupid." the silly boy said, deadpan, "just... i think adults like it because it... is like a super hug or something."

"oh." steve shrugged, "a super hug?"

"yeah..." he said, "it's like... you kiss your family on the cheeks because it's super hugs because you love them."

"right." steve nodded.

"and then... when you think someone is pretty, you kiss them on the mouth because... they're pretty."

"so, why would ken want to kiss gi joe?" steve asked, fiddling with the dolls, "i get why joe wants to kiss ken... but..."

"don't be fooled by his buzzcut." the boy grinned and pulled up the doll's shirt to reveal plastic abs, "i think ken likes muscly men."

"okay." steve shrugged and held up his doll to play, "so... how do we make boys kiss?"

"the same as we make girls kiss." the boy shrugged and cleared his throat, putting on a manly voice as he pretended to be the doll, "oh, hello ken... you look very pretty today. blue is really your colour!"

steve shrugged and put on a ken voice, "thanks gi joe. you look super muscly! can i kiss you?"

"of course, handsome!" the boy giggled and moved his doll in to kiss steves, they made them make out for a while, with lots of kissing noises, "oh, this is the best kiss i've ever had!"

"can two boys be in love too?" steve asked, and the boy nodded with a bright smile, then steve turned the voice on again, "i think i love you joe!"

"oh my goodness!" the boy grinned, "i think i love you too! you are the prettiest boy i've ever seen."

steve giggled and made his doll kiss attack the boys, and then they were both giggling and smushing their dolls together.

once the laughter died down, they just kind of looked at each other for a moment, and steve decided to speak first, "i didn't know boys could kiss."

the boy shrugged, "don't tell your dad about it. he'll probably get mad... it can be our secret."

"okay." steve smiled, a slight blush in his cheeks, "i'm steve, by the way."

"oh... i'm eddie." eddie smiled brightly and held out his hand for steve to shake.

"you have really crazy hair, eddie." steve said.

"i know." he said with a frown, "dad says i have to cut it."

"don't... it's so cool!" steve promised.

eddie seemed to blush at that, "thanks..." he shrugged, "i think you're the prettiest boy i've ever seen, you know?"

steve blushed a lot at that, "do you think?"

eddie nodded, "yeah."

"oh." steve swallowed, he thought this boy was very pretty too, and even though he knocked over steves jenga house, he really liked him, "would you like to kiss me?"

eddie blushed even brighter, "i think so..."

steve swallowed, "i have a cough."

eddie frowned, "i don't mind... if you would like to."

steve smiled, because he would like to, "are you sure?"

eddie nodded.

"okay." steve shuffled a little closer to eddie on his knees, and the curly haired boy turned completely red, "i don't know how to kiss someone."

"me either." eddie said, "i think we just... put our mouths together."

"that sounds right." steve shrugged and started to move forward.

"steven!" his mothers voice rang from the waiting room, "steven, where are you? the doctor is ready to see you."

steve looked around the toy corner to see his mother walking into the doorway, and steve huffed, "i have to go."

"oh... okay." eddie swallowed.

steve smiled, "can i play with you at school?"

eddie frowned, "i don't go to school here. me and mum are just visiting my uncle."

"oh." steve sighed, "will you ever be back?"

"probably." eddie shrugged.

steve smiled, "okay."

"come on, steven. you don't want to keep him waiting." his mother tapped her foot.

"coming." steve said, looking back at her with a smile.

she turned and grabbed her things.

"well..." steve shrugged, "if i see you ever again, then i owe you your first kiss."

"okay." eddie squeaked, still red as a tomato as steve hopped up and ran for his mother, "bye, steve!"

"bye, eddie!" steve shouted, "hope to see you soon!"

★ ☆ ★

Part 2 hereee

[strljaem]

“i’ve appreciated the way you appreciated my hard work”

as an oxford student.

The sun was barely a smudge on the horizon when I left my dorm, the sky painted in shades of gray that mirrored my mood. Oxford’s cobblestone streets were slick with morning dew, each step sending a shiver through my shoes. As I crossed the quad, I felt the centuries of history staring down at me from the towering spires, their solemn stone faces whispering tales of brilliance and struggle.

I walked briskly to my first class of the day—Discrete Mathematics. It was a small lecture hall, but the pressure within was anything but diminutive. Rows of students sat hunched over laptops, the blue glow of their screens casting a ghostly light on their faces. The quiet murmur of hushed discussions floated through the air, mingling with the faint scent of coffee from the communal pot in the corner.

The professor's voice cut through the room, each word carrying a weight that seemed to sink into my chest. The content was dense, complex, and required more concentration than my caffeine-addled brain could muster at this hour. I scribbled notes, trying to keep up, but the pace was relentless. I glanced at my classmates; they were absorbed, their fingers flying over keyboards, their eyes fixed on the projection screen where diagrams and equations blurred into a dizzying dance.

Between classes, I made my way to the computer lab, where the steady hum of computers filled the air. Here, the stress became palpable. Students hunched over their workstations, faces creased with concentration. I saw friends exchanging worried glances, their voices hushed as they discussed the latest assignment—another mountain to climb, another impossible deadline. It was a constant grind, a relentless barrage of tasks that seemed designed to test our breaking points.

I felt the weight of my laptop in my bag, the weight of the assignments stacking up like a Jenga tower on the brink of collapse. My calendar was a sea of red, each block of time filled with deadlines, study sessions, and meetings with professors. I couldn’t afford to slack, not with the constant reminder that everyone here was exceptional, and the competition was fierce.

As I left the lab, I caught a glimpse of the ancient college buildings bathed in a faint morning light. They were beautiful, but their beauty felt distant, almost mocking. I wondered how many students before me had walked these same paths, felt the same stress, and questioned whether they could ever measure up to the legacy of Oxford. I took a deep breath, knowing that I had to keep pushing, even as the assignments threatened to drown me in a sea of anxiety.

I entered the next class, slipping into a seat beside my best friend, Emily. The lecture hall was buzzing with energy, the usual chatter and rustling of notebooks echoing off the stone walls. Emily looked up and gave me a quick smile. "Hey," she said, sliding a stack of papers into her bag. "You survived Data Structures, huh? How brutal was it today?"

"Brutal doesn't even begin to cover it," I replied with a dramatic sigh. "The assignment load is insane. But hey, at least we've got coffee to look forward to afterward."

Emily chuckled, flipping open her laptop. "I'm holding you to that. Double espresso, here I come."

I nodded, taking out my own supplies and arranging them neatly on the desk. The lecture was about to start, and I was mentally preparing myself for another hour of high-intensity learning. But as I looked toward the door, the chatter died down, and everything seemed to shift into slow motion.

The lecturer walked in, and I had to blink to make sure I wasn't imagining things. He looked quite young. Maybe we weren’t that much gap in age. I’m 21, he might be around 24?? He was tall and carried himself with a confidence that was almost ethereal. His attire was impeccably stylish—tailored navy trousers, a crisp white shirt, and a slim-fit blazer that looked like it was made for him. He had a casual elegance about him that set him apart from the other lecturers, who usually wore more traditional academic robes.

But it was his eyes that really caught my attention. They were a striking shade of brown-black, so vivid they seemed to capture the entire spectrum of my life. They were deep and expressive, capable of conveying a world of meaning with a single glance. As he scanned the room, his gaze met mine for a fleeting moment, and I felt my heart skip a beat.

His hair was another story altogether. It was jet black and fell in soft waves that framed his face, adding to his allure. It seemed to move with a life of its own, bouncing gently with each step he took. I had never seen a lecturer like him before—someone who could blend intelligence with such effortless style.

I felt a strange flutter in my chest, a mix of nerves and curiosity. It was unlike anything I'd felt in a classroom before. The room was silent as he reached the podium, his presence commanding attention without a single word. As he spoke, his voice was smooth and rich, filling the hall with a calm authority. I couldn't help but be drawn in, mesmerized by his every word.

Emily nudged me, a smirk on her lips. "What's with that look? Someone's got a crush on the new lecturer, huh?"

I rolled my eyes, trying to play it cool. "Oh, please. I'm just... appreciating the scenery, that's all."

But deep down, I knew that this lecture was going to be different, and not just because of the content. This lecturer had a way of making everything seem more intriguing, more exciting. And as I took notes, I couldn't help but steal glances at him, my mind racing with questions and my heart pounding in a way I hadn't expected.

Then he spoke, and my world stopped spinning. “Good morning, everyone,” he said in a husky, deep voice that seemed to reverberate through the lecture hall. “My name is Mr. Na Jaemin, but you can call me Mr. Na. I’m the new lecturer for this course.” His voice was so smooth, so rich, that it seemed to wrap around each word, adding an almost hypnotic quality to everything he said.

The chatters around the lecture hall faded into silence. My attention was glued to him, the way his words seemed to flow effortlessly from his lips. It was as if he had this magnetic pull, drawing all eyes to him without even trying. I felt my brain shutting down, like it was too overwhelmed to process anything but the sound of his voice.

He continued to speak, introducing the course and outlining what we could expect in the weeks to come, but I barely registered any of it. I was too busy watching the way his lips moved as he spoke, the way his eyes lit up when he glanced around the room. It felt like the whole world had narrowed down to this moment, to this lecture hall, to him.

Emily nudged me, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Are you listening to anything he’s saying, or are you just lost in those eyes?”

I gave her a weak smile, my voice barely a whisper. “What? Oh, yeah, totally listening.” But I wasn’t, not really. I was caught in a trance, and it felt like I might never want to break free.

The class ended, just like that. I snapped out of my daze when Emily nudged me again, laughing softly. I looked down at my notebook—blank, not a single word jotted down. This was unusual for me. Usually, I'd be scribbling furiously, trying to capture every important point. But today? Nothing. The entire lecture passed in a haze, and now Mr. Na was gone, leaving me in a whirlwind of confusion.

Emily was packing her things, a grin stretching across her face. "Looks like someone wasn't paying attention," she teased, stuffing her laptop into her bag. "Did you even hear anything he said? Or were you just too busy daydreaming about those eyes?"

I gave her a sheepish smile, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "What? No, I was totally listening. Just... you know, processing." I tried to sound convincing, but even I didn't believe my own words. My brain was still replaying Mr. Na's entrance, his voice, and those captivating blue eyes.

Emily laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Right. Processing. Sure, we'll go with that." She finished packing and slung her bag over her shoulder. "Come on, let's grab that coffee. We can work on our assignments together before the next class. You might need a little help catching up."

I sighed, closing my notebook and shoving it into my bag. "Yeah, coffee sounds good. Let's get out of here." I stood up, my legs feeling slightly wobbly, as if my entire body was still reeling from the effect of Mr. Na's presence. It was like I had been hit by a tidal wave of charm, and I was just now starting to find my footing.

We made our way out of the lecture hall, the chatter of other students gradually filling the hallway. I spotted a couple of our friends and waved them over. "Hey, we're heading to the coffee shop. Wanna join us?"

They nodded, and we all headed toward the exit, the crisp Oxford air hitting my face as we stepped outside. It was refreshing, grounding me a bit after the surreal experience of the lecture. Emily leaned in close, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "So, love at first sight, huh?"

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help but smile. "Oh, come on. Don't start with that."

She laughed, shaking her head. "I'm just saying. I've never seen you this spaced out after a lecture. I mean, you've got a reputation for being the note-taking queen."

I chuckled, finally feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders. "Yeah, yeah. Just had a lot on my mind, that's all." But even as I said it, I knew the truth. Something about Mr. Na had thrown me off balance, and it was going to take a lot more than a coffee to get me back on track.

The night settled over Oxford, the city’s ancient architecture casting long shadows under the dim streetlights. I was back in my dorm, a small but cozy room with a single bed tucked into a corner. The walls were adorned with posters and notes from various classes, but tonight, none of them held my attention.

I sat on my bed, my laptop propped up on my legs, pretending to study. My eyes kept wandering, staring at the ceiling or through the small window that offered a glimpse of the college quad. The usual buzz of student life filtered through the walls, faint voices and laughter from the common area down the hall, but it all felt distant.

All I could think about was Mr. Na.

His face appeared in my mind, as if etched there permanently. Those striking blue eyes, the kind that seemed to see right through you, and the way his fluffy black hair framed his handsome face. His voice—deep, smooth, and soothing—kept playing in my head, each word lingering long after he'd left the classroom.

I closed my laptop, knowing full well I wouldn't get any more studying done tonight. Instead, I got ready for bed, changing into my pajamas and brushing my teeth. As I moved around the small room, I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to see Mr. Na again the next day. Would he remember me? Would he smile in that way that made my heart skip a beat?

As I climbed into bed, I felt a mix of excitement and nerves. It was ridiculous—I had only just met the man, but something about him had completely thrown me off my usual routine. I was known for my discipline, my focus, but now all I wanted was to be in his class again, to hear his voice, to watch him command the room with that effortless charisma.

I pulled the blankets over me, my mind racing with what-ifs. What if he taught more classes? What if I had the chance to talk to him after a lecture? I knew it was all a bit fanciful, but I couldn't help it. There was something about him that made me feel like I was in the middle of a daydream.

As I closed my eyes, I hoped I would dream of him. Maybe we’d be in a classroom, his voice echoing off the walls, or maybe it would be something else entirely. The possibilities seemed endless, and I drifted off with a smile, eagerly awaiting what tomorrow might bring.

The next morning, I woke up with a sense of excitement that felt almost tangible. It washed over me in waves, making my hands tremble with anticipation. I got ready for the day, my thoughts racing through the upcoming lectures, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mr. Na again. Would he remember me? Would he say something that made my heart flutter?

As I walked down the hallway, I was practically bouncing on my toes. My backpack felt lighter, and even the morning chill couldn't dampen my mood. But then, as I turned a corner, I saw him. He was standing at the far end of the corridor, talking to a student—a girl with long, dark hair and a bright smile. They were laughing together, his voice low and warm, and her laughter light and melodic.

My heart skipped a beat, then sank like a stone. I felt a sharp pain in my chest, a sudden burst of anger and jealousy that was as unexpected as it was intense. He was smiling at her, really smiling, like he was genuinely enjoying their conversation. And I hated it.

It was ridiculous, I knew that. He was my lecturer, not someone I could claim ownership over. Yet, the sight of him laughing with her felt like a punch to the gut. I had no right to be upset, but the feeling was there, sharp and cutting. I told myself to calm down, to not let this childish jealousy take over, but it was hard to ignore the tightening in my chest.

"Get it together," I muttered under my breath, forcing myself to look away. "You're just being stupid. It's just a crush. A stupid, ridiculous crush."

I tried to push the feelings down as I headed to my first class. It was him—Mr. Na. As I entered the lecture hall, I was determined to focus on the lesson, to act like everything was fine. But the sight of him earlier still lingered in my mind, and I had to take a deep breath to steady myself.

He walked into the lecture hall, calm and composed, like nothing had happened. Like he didn't just tear my heart into pieces with his smile. I clenched my jaw, refusing to let my emotions get the better of me. This was a classroom, and I needed to act like an adult. This wasn't high school; I couldn't afford to be distracted by a silly crush.

As the lecture began, I forced myself to take notes, to focus on the content. I wrote down everything he said, my pen moving quickly across the paper. The childish thoughts and jealousy were pushed to the back of my mind. I needed to be mature, to concentrate on what mattered—my studies, my future.

But even as I pretended to be focused, a part of me couldn't help but glance at him from time to time, wondering what it was about him that had such an effect on me. I told myself it was just a passing fancy, that I would get over it soon. Yet, deep down, I knew it wouldn't be that simple.

It had been a few weeks since the initial flutters and jitters of my crush on Mr. Na. I'd decided to focus on my studies, to keep things professional, and, frankly, it was working. The excitement had faded, and he was just another lecturer in my eyes—at least, that's what I told myself. I was more focused, my notes were detailed, and I was catching up on all the assignments. But then, one day, everything shifted.

Mr. Na stormed into the lecture hall, and everyone knew something was wrong. His usual calm demeanor was gone, replaced by a furious energy that crackled in the air. He was wearing glasses today—thick-framed and sleek. With them on, he looked even hotter than usual. He wore a white tee, a black tie, and slim-fit black trousers. But it wasn't his style that caught my attention. It was his mood. He was angry, really angry, and he made sure everyone knew it.

He slammed a stack of assignments on the table, the sound echoing throughout the hall. "What is this?" he exclaimed, pointing at the pile of papers. "These are ridiculous! This is not what I expect from Oxford students! You are capable of much better than this!"

His voice was loud, sharp, cutting through the silence like a knife. I could feel the tension in the room; everyone was on edge. Mr. Na paced back and forth, his eyes blazing with frustration. He was passionate about his subject, that much was clear, but his anger made it seem like he was ready to combust.

He grabbed a book and banged it on the table for emphasis. "This isn't high school! You're here to learn, not to slack off and turn in half-baked work. I want perfection. I demand it!" His voice echoed off the stone walls, sending shivers down my spine.

I was just staring at him, mesmerized by the intensity of his rage. It was understandable—I'd be mad too if I were in his shoes. He cared about the quality of our work, and he wasn't shy about expressing his disappointment. But still, it was unnerving to see him like this.

The lecture hall was silent. Dead silent. No one dared to make a sound. Mr. Na continued his tirade, his eyes scanning the room like a hawk searching for prey. And then he called my name.

I felt my heart skip a beat. The room seemed to close in around me as I stood up and walked toward him. My hands were sweating, my pulse racing. He looked up at me with those piercing blue eyes, and I knew I was in trouble.

He opened my book and paused for what felt like an eternity. The silence stretched, and I could hear my own breathing, heavy and ragged. I was sweating bullets, my nerves frayed to the breaking point. What would he say? Would he tear me apart like he did the others? My mind was a whirlwind of fear and anticipation.

Finally, he spoke.

Mr. Na opened my book and paused for a moment that felt like an eternity. His eyes scanned my work with a critical yet calm focus. But then, something changed. The corners of his lips lifted into a smile. It was subtle, but it transformed the entire atmosphere in the lecture hall. The tension seemed to melt away as he began to speak.

"Excellent work," he said, his voice warm and filled with genuine praise. "This is exactly the kind of detail and sophistication I expect from my students. Thorough, precise, and insightful. Keep it up." He continued to speak, listing the aspects of my assignment that he found impressive, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. This was the recognition I needed after all those late nights and long hours.

Around me, I could hear the murmurs of approval from my classmates. Emily gave me a discreet thumbs-up, and even some of the usually more reserved students nodded in acknowledgment. It was a rare moment of triumph, a fleeting victory in the midst of the rigorous grind.

But not everyone was pleased. I caught a glimpse of the girl from the hallway, the one Mr. Na had been smiling and chatting with earlier. She was sitting at the back with her group of friends, and her expression was anything but approving. She was glaring at me, her eyes narrowed in a mix of jealousy and disdain. Her friends seemed to pick up on her mood, sharing looks and whispering among themselves.

The intensity of her stare was unnerving, but I tried to ignore it. After all, Mr. Na was praising me in front of the entire class, and I didn't want to let anything spoil the moment. But the girl's glare was like a laser, sharp and unyielding, as if she was trying to burn a hole through me. What was her problem? Did she think I was trying to steal the spotlight? Or was she just angry because her own assignment didn't meet his expectations?

Mr. Na continued with the lecture, his voice steady and authoritative, but I could feel the eyes of that girl on me the entire time. It was hard to focus, but I reminded myself that I had earned this praise, and I wasn't about to let anyone take it away from me. I took a deep breath and returned to my notes, pretending not to notice the looks from the back of the room.

Emily leaned over and whispered, "What's with her? She looks like she's ready to explode."

I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "Maybe she didn't like the critique. Or she's just having a bad day." But even as I said it, I knew there was more to it. The girl's glare held a bitterness that couldn't be explained away by a bad grade. It was personal.

As the class continued, I resolved to stay focused and not let the jealousy get to me. But I knew I'd have to keep my guard up. Mr. Na's praise was a double-edged sword—it brought recognition, but it also attracted unwanted attention. And from the looks of it, I had just made an enemy.

I couldn't believe it. Mr. Na had just highly praised my work in front of the entire class. The very same Mr. Na who, not long ago, had made my heart race with a single glance. The same man I had spent sleepless nights thinking about, only to force myself to focus on my studies and let those feelings fade away. But now, here he was, smiling at me like I had done something extraordinary.

A mix of emotions swirled within me. There was the undeniable sense of pride—I had worked hard on that assignment, and it was gratifying to have my efforts recognized. But there was also something else, a lingering echo of the crush I thought I had put behind me. Hearing his voice, seeing that smile, it all felt strangely familiar, like a forgotten melody that suddenly played again.

It was almost surreal. I had once daydreamed about moments like this, where he'd acknowledge me in a special way. And yet, I had moved on, hadn't I? I had decided to focus on my studies, to let the feelings of my "first love" fade away into the background. But now, standing there in the lecture hall, it all came rushing back.

It was as if my heart couldn't make up its mind. I was thrilled to have impressed him, but part of me was uneasy, knowing that these lingering feelings might lead me down a path I had resolved to avoid. This was a classroom, not a romantic novel. I had to keep my emotions in check.

And yet, his words of praise echoed in my mind, refusing to be ignored. His voice had a way of making everything seem brighter, more vivid. It was like being drawn into a familiar orbit, one that I had consciously left behind. The challenge was to keep my focus on the important things—my studies, my future—and not let the swirling emotions distract me from my goals.

As I sat back down, I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I couldn't let a moment of praise from Mr. Na throw me off course. But the memory of his smile, the warmth in his eyes, lingered like a whisper I couldn't quite shake. It was a reminder that first loves, even those you thought you'd moved on from, had a way of reappearing when you least expected them.

The class ended, and the lecture hall erupted in a flurry of activity. Everyone was gathering their books, shuffling papers, and heading for the door, eager to get on with their day. I was packing my things slowly, my mind still processing what had just happened. Mr. Na's words of praise echoed in my ears, leaving a warm sensation in my chest.

Emily was already at the door, her bag slung over her shoulder. She waved at me, gesturing for me to hurry up. "Come on! I've got another class in a few minutes," she said, her voice carrying over the din.

I waved back, indicating for her to go ahead. "You go. I have a couple of hours free before my next class. I'll head to the library and do some research." She nodded and left, her footsteps disappearing into the crowd.

I was almost done packing when I heard it—my name, called softly but with a tone that instantly caught my attention. It was Mr. Na, his voice like silk and velvet, low and smooth. It was the kind of voice that could stop anyone in their tracks, and it certainly did with me. My heart skipped a beat, and I turned around to find him standing at the lecturing desk, his eyes locked on me.

He'd taken off his glasses, letting them dangle from his shirt's neckline. The look suited him, adding an edge of casual confidence to his usual professional demeanor. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he'd been running his fingers through it in frustration, but it only made him look more appealing. I couldn't help but think that he had never looked this hot before.

"Could I talk to you for a moment?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of invitation. The lecture hall was mostly empty now, with just a few stragglers left gathering their things. I nodded, unable to find my voice at first. It took me a second to remember to breathe.

I walked toward him, my bag slung over one shoulder. My steps were hesitant, like I was walking into unfamiliar territory. What could he possibly want to talk to me about? The compliment earlier had already thrown me off balance, and now this? It was like a whirlwind of unexpected events, and I wasn't sure if I was prepared for whatever came next.

As I approached the desk, I noticed how his eyes seemed even browner up close, a shade that could just warm up the cold weather of Oxofrd. I tried to act casual, to hide the nervousness that made my palms sweat. But the way he looked at me, with that gentle yet intense gaze, made it hard to keep my composure.

As I reached the lecturing desk, Mr. Na was already watching me with those striking brown-black eyes, a slight smile on his lips. He motioned for me to stand closer, his voice low but clear enough to be heard over the diminishing noise of the other students leaving. It felt like the whole room had shrunk to just the two of us, the rest of the world fading into a blur.

"I've been keeping an eye on each of my students," he began, his tone serious yet warm. "It's part of my job to ensure everyone is progressing and engaged." He paused, letting his words sink in. His gaze was steady, sharp, like he was reading every detail in my expression. It was the kind of look that could pierce through walls, the kind that saw everything.

"But you," he continued, his voice softening, "you caught my attention. You've been fully focused in class, your work is consistently excellent, and you ask insightful questions. I'm proud of you." The way he said it, with that mix of authority and genuine warmth, sent a shiver down my spine. It was as if he saw me, really saw me, beyond the grades and assignments.

I felt my cheeks flush, heat rising to my face. His words were more than just a compliment; they were a validation, an acknowledgment that my hard work wasn't going unnoticed. The silence between us grew, stretching into a long pause. He seemed to be waiting for my response, his eyes holding a gentle yet expectant gaze.

It took me a moment to find my voice. My mind was racing, struggling to come up with something intelligent to say, something that wouldn't sound too awkward or forced. My heart was pounding in my chest, the pulse echoing in my ears. This was more than just a simple "well done"—it felt like he was reaching out to connect on a level that went beyond the classroom.

Finally, I snapped back to reality, realizing that he was still waiting for me to respond. I cleared my throat, trying to sound composed despite the whirlwind of emotions. "Thank you so much, Mr. Na," I said, my voice steady but with a hint of nervousness. "It means a lot coming from you." I wanted to say more, to express how much his words had impacted me, but I didn't trust myself to speak without betraying the rush of feelings I was experiencing.

He nodded, a smile spreading across his lips. "Keep it up," he said, his voice carrying an encouraging warmth. "I have high hopes for you." With that, he turned back to his lecturing materials, leaving me standing there, my heart still racing, trying to process what had just happened. The tension was still there, but now it felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted. I took a deep breath, knowing I had to keep my focus and live up to the expectations he'd just set. But the warmth from his words lingered, a quiet reassurance that seemed to fill the room even after he had turned away.

As I turned to leave the room, my cheeks were flushed with a warmth that spread through my entire body. I couldn't help but glance back at Mr. Na, watching him as he gathered his materials for the next class. He was so composed, so self-assured, and yet his words to me were gentle and full of praise. I felt a surge of pride and a touch of something else I couldn't quite place—gratitude, perhaps, or a rekindled admiration. Whatever it was, it made me walk a little taller as I headed for the door.

But as I stepped out into the hallway, my confidence faltered. The same group of girls who had been glaring at me earlier during Mr. Na's praise were standing off to the side, throwing me dirty looks. There were four of them, and they seemed to be waiting, as if I had unknowingly stepped into their territory. Their ringleader was the girl from the hallway, the one who'd been laughing with Mr. Na before. Her arms were crossed, and her eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin crawl.

It was one against four. A part of me wanted to turn around and find another way out, but I knew that would only give them what they wanted—a sign that I was afraid. Instead, I kept my cool, squaring my shoulders as I walked past them. I was taller than most of them, which gave me a slight advantage. If nothing else, I could use my height to project confidence, even if I felt like my stomach was doing somersaults.

As I passed by, the ringleader couldn't resist a snide remark. "Look who's suddenly the teacher's pet," she said, her voice dripping with sarcascastic mockery. Her friends snickered, each throwing me a glare that felt like daggers.

The ringleader, the girl who had been talking to Mr. Na in the hallway earlier, was hard to ignore. Her outfit was designed to draw attention—a cropped top that showed off her midriff and tight jeans that hugged her figure. She had a confident, almost cocky air about her, and her long, black hair cascaded over her shoulders in waves. It was the kind of look that seemed intended to impress, and judging by the way she stood with her arms crossed, she knew she was being watched.

When I saw her speaking to Mr. Na earlier, she had been all smiles and charm, clearly trying to make an impression. And why wouldn’t she? Mr. Na’s laughter had been genuine, his eyes lighting up as she spoke. But now, it seemed like her pleasant demeanor had melted away, replaced by a scowl that she aimed directly at me.

It was almost laughable. Trying to impress Mr. Na with ridiculous grades and revealing outfits? Keep on dreaming. This was Oxford, not a fashion show. I knew I had earned Mr. Na’s praise through hard work and dedication, not by batting my eyelashes and hoping for the best. If this girl thought she could gain favor with him by dressing provocatively and flashing a smile, she was in for a rude awakening.

But even so, the sting of jealousy was unmistakable in her eyes. It was like she had expected Mr. Na’s attention to be hers alone, and my success had disrupted her carefully laid plans. I wasn’t going to let her or her gang of friends intimidate me, but I knew I’d need to keep my guard up. People like her could be unpredictable when they felt threatened. And I had no intention of becoming her next target.

I took a deep breath, refusing to let them get to me. "Jealousy doesn't suit you," I replied, my voice even and calm. I kept walking, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. My heart was pounding, but I knew I had to maintain my composure. The last thing I needed was a confrontation in the hallway.

As I turned the corner, I could still hear them laughing, but I didn't look back. I had more important things to focus on, like my studies and the praise Mr. Na had given me. Besides, I wasn't about to let a group of mean-spirited girls ruin my day. I walked with my head held high, reminding myself that I had earned my place here. If they wanted to throw shade, that was their problem, not mine.

A few weeks turned into months, and life at Oxford settled into a steady rhythm. The initial excitement of my first encounter with Mr. Na had given way to a determined focus on my studies. I was no longer the daydreamer I once was; instead, I was known for my diligence and attention to detail. I threw myself into my coursework, attending every lecture, meticulously taking notes, and diving deep into research projects. It paid off in ways I hadn't anticipated.

When the results for the first mid-term test were released, I was nervous but hopeful. The rumors had been circulating that this would be the most challenging exam of the term, and many students were on edge. I opened my email, my heart racing, and saw the score: 4.00 GPA. It was perfect. I couldn't believe it. All those sleepless nights, the endless hours in the library, and the pressure I had put on myself—it had all been worth it.

The list of top students with a 4.00 GPA was proudly announced in every student's email inbox, on Oxford's main board, and even in the daily campus newsletter. It was everywhere, and my name was the first on the list. I was thrilled but tried to keep my excitement in check. I didn't want to come across as boastful, even though I was bursting with pride.

I immediately called my parents, who lived far from Oxford, and their voices were filled with joy and pride. "We're so proud of you!" my mom said, her voice cracking with emotion. My dad chimed in, "That's our girl! We knew you could do it!" We talked for a while, discussing my studies and the vacation we were planning for the next summer holidays. It felt good to share my success with them, to hear their enthusiasm for the future.

Emily and the rest of my friends congratulated me with genuine happiness. "You're amazing!" Emily said, giving me a big hug. "We need to celebrate! Let's throw a party after all that studying and cramming. You deserve it!" I agreed, grateful for the support of my friends. It was nice to know that I wasn't alone in this journey, that I had people who cared about me and wanted to share in my achievements.

But even as the celebration plans took shape, I was already looking ahead. I had set my sights on something bigger—a Ph.D. I knew the road ahead would be challenging, but I was ready for it. The 4.00 GPA was a significant milestone, but it was just the beginning. I was determined to push further, to explore new horizons, and to make a mark in the world of computer science.

Oxford had given me the tools, and I intended to use them. The party was just the beginning of a new chapter, one that would lead me to greater heights. I was excited for the journey ahead and eager to see where it would take me.

The end-of-semester party at Oxford was the event everyone had been looking forward to. It was held at a grand hotel, a place known for its opulent decor and lavish events. The hotel stood tall and regal, with its stone façade and large glass windows reflecting the city lights. As we approached, I could hear the soft strains of music floating out from the ballroom, the distant hum of voices and laughter filling the night air.

The entrance was adorned with elegant drapes and twinkling lights, leading into a grand foyer where guests were mingling, dressed in their finest. The ceiling was high, with elaborate chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow over the entire space. The floor was polished to a mirror-like shine, reflecting the movements of the guests as they moved about, greeting friends and lecturers alike.

I had chosen a long, flowing evening gown for the occasion. It was a deep emerald green that complemented my skin tone and brought out the color of my eyes. The dress had a delicate lace overlay that added an air of sophistication, and it cinched at the waist to give me a flattering silhouette. I wore my hair in loose curls that cascaded over my shoulders, and my makeup was subtle but accentuated my features. A pair of silver heels completed the look, adding just the right amount of sparkle.

As I stepped into the ballroom, the environment was alive with energy. A live band was playing soft jazz, adding a touch of elegance to the evening. People were chatting, laughing, and dancing on the grand dance floor at the center of the room. The lecturers were there too, dressed in their finest, mingling with students and colleagues.

The decorations were exquisite. The tables were adorned with white linens and elaborate centerpieces, and the walls were lined with ornate tapestries. The hotel staff moved gracefully among the guests, serving hors d'oeuvres and champagne. The entire scene felt like something out of a fairytale, a perfect setting to celebrate the end of a long semester.

I moved through the crowd, greeting my friends and exchanging pleasantries with my lecturers. It was a night to remember, a moment of relaxation and celebration after months of hard work and intense study. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits, and the music provided the perfect backdrop for an evening of fun and camaraderie.

The host of the party stepped onto the stage, tapping the microphone to get everyone’s attention. The room fell into a quiet murmur, then silence as all eyes turned toward the stage. The moment everyone had been waiting for—the announcement of the "Main Girl" of the batch, the one who excelled in academics and co-curricular activities—was finally here. The tension was palpable, the air buzzing with anticipation. Everyone was hoping to hear their name called, and you could feel the excitement mixed with nervousness throughout the grand ballroom.

I wasn’t expecting much, so I was busily chatting with my friends, enjoying the night. It was a party, after all, and I was here to celebrate the end of a long semester. But then, suddenly, I heard my name. It took me a moment to register what had just happened. Was that really my name? I turned to see everyone looking at me, their eyes filled with surprise and admiration. The applause started slowly, then grew louder, echoing through the ballroom. People were cheering and clapping for me, their voices filled with genuine joy.

I was in disbelief. I stood, my legs feeling wobbly as if they might give out beneath me. The cheers grew louder, and my friends rushed to my side, hugging me tightly. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, the emotion of the moment washing over me. It was overwhelming, but in the best way possible.

As I hugged my friends, I glanced across the room and saw Mr. Na standing in the corner among the other lecturers. He was clapping for me, his smile wide and genuine. There was a look of pride on his face, a mix of happiness and satisfaction that warmed my heart. I felt a surge of gratitude, knowing that his encouragement and guidance had played a significant role in my success.

I made my way to the stage, still in a daze from all the attention. The host handed me a small crown, a symbol of my achievement, and I bowed in front of everyone, feeling the heat of the spotlight. The applause was deafening, but it felt like the perfect culmination of all my hard work. I had worked tirelessly throughout the semester, and now I was being recognized for it. The cheers, the clapping, the smiles—it was a moment I would never forget.

The party ended with a burst of applause and cheers, the ballroom slowly emptying as students and lecturers headed back to their dorms. The energy of the evening had been palpable, but now it was time to say goodbye and pack for the summer holidays, which started the next day. The hotel lobby was filled with laughter and goodbyes, everyone sharing stories from the night and making plans to meet up during the break.

I waved goodbye to my friends, hugging them and kissing them on the cheek, thanking them for one of the best nights of my life. "This was amazing," Emily said, squeezing me tightly. "We'll have to do it again soon!" I nodded, feeling a mix of excitement for the holidays and sadness that the semester had come to an end. It felt like a chapter closing, with so much more yet to be written.

Some of my friends were waiting for me, asking if I wanted to walk back with them to the dorms. I appreciated the offer, but I had other plans. "I need to use the bathroom," I said with a sheepish smile. "I think I drank a little too much tonight." They laughed, waving me off and heading toward the exit.

The hallway leading to the restrooms was quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling ballroom. The lights were dimmer here, casting soft shadows on the walls. As I made my way to the restroom, I passed a few lingering partygoers, their laughter fading into the distance as they left. It was a moment of solitude after a night filled with noise and celebration, and I welcomed the brief silence.

Inside the restroom, the sound of running water echoed off the tiles, a soothing white noise after the chaos of the party. I took a moment to collect myself, splashing some cool water on my face to calm my nerves. It had been an incredible night, filled with unexpected surprises and moments I knew I'd cherish forever. The memory of the announcement, the cheers, and the crown made me smile. But now, it was time to return to reality and prepare for the journey ahead.

As I washed my hands, the soothing sound of running water helped to calm my nerves after the night’s festivities. But then I heard the chatter of a group of girls entering the restroom. The voices were familiar, but I tried to push the recognition aside. I knew exactly who they were—the same group that had been giving me dirty looks earlier at the party.

I quickly grabbed my bag and headed toward the exit, hoping to avoid any confrontation. But as I turned the corner, I bumped into them, nearly knocking one of them over. It was the same girl, the one who had tried to outshine me in front of Mr. Na, the one with the revealing outfits and the fake smiles. Her friends crowded around her, their expressions already set to mock me.

"Well, well, well," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Look who it is. The 'Main Girl' herself." Her friends laughed, nodding in agreement.

I tried to ignore them, to keep my composure, but it was hard. The words stung, each one like a sharp needle pricking my skin. I decided to fight back with a simple comeback. "Just shove all your jealousy up your ass, instead do something better? something like getting better on your academic performances, yeah?" I said, looking her straight in the eye. It was a small victory, but it seemed to hit a nerve. Some of the girls glared at me, while others whispered angrily among themselves.

The main girl pretended to keep her cool, but I could see the anger in her eyes. She hated that I had the spotlight, that I had earned the admiration of our lecturers, especially Mr. Na. It was a constant reminder of her failure to stand out, and she couldn’t hide her resentment.

One of the girls in her group was holding a cup of iced chocolate. Before I could react, she flung it at me, the cold liquid splashing across my dress, my hair, and my face. The others burst into laughter, their voices echoing off the bathroom tiles. I closed my eyes in embarrassment, feeling the sticky mess dripping down my dress. It was humiliating. The beautiful gown I had chosen for the night was ruined, and my hair was a tangled, chocolate-covered mess.

The laughter grew louder, the girls enjoying my discomfort. I felt a surge of anger and shame, but I knew that reacting would only give them more satisfaction. I opened my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to keep my composure despite the overwhelming humiliation. It was one of the worst moments I had ever experienced, and I knew it would be etched in my memory for a long time.

The laughter and mockery filled the restroom as the cold, sticky chocolate dripped from my hair and dress. The girls continued to sneer, their eyes gleaming with a mix of cruelty and triumph. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, but beneath the humiliation, I felt a surge of anger bubbling to the surface.

I bent down and grabbed the half-empty cup of iced chocolate from the floor. Without hesitating, I threw it back at the main girl, the contents splashing across her shirt and into her hair. Her eyes widened in shock, her mouth forming a perfect "O" as she staggered backward, hitting the wall. Her friends gasped, their mocking laughter turning to disbelief.

I didn't wait to see her reaction. I stormed out of the bathroom, my footsteps echoing in the hallway as I rushed toward the exit. My heart was pounding, a mix of adrenaline and indignation fueling my steps. I could still hear the girls' voices behind me, now raised in anger and surprise, but I didn't look back. I had given them a taste of their own medicine, and I wasn't about to stick around for the aftermath.

As I pushed through the door and into the hotel lobby, the cool air hit my face, a refreshing contrast to the heat of my anger. I knew I would have to deal with the consequences later, but at that moment, all I wanted was to put as much distance between myself and those girls as possible. It was a relief to be away from their toxic presence, even if it meant walking through the lobby covered in chocolate and embarrassment.

I took a deep breath, focusing on the warmth of the party and the support of my friends, reminding myself that I had earned my place at Oxford. No amount of mockery or bullying could take that away from me. I was determined to hold my head high, even as I left the hotel, the night air offering a sense of calm after the storm.

I was glad to find a quiet corner in the hotel lobby where I could clean up the mess from the iced chocolate. It was a small alcove behind a decorative pillar, and I felt relieved that no one had seen me storming out of the restroom. My bag had a pack of wet tissues, thankfully, and I pulled out several to wipe away the sticky mess on my dress and hair. The chocolate had splattered everywhere, and I was trying to salvage what I could without making things worse.

As I was cleaning up, I heard a voice call my name with a hint of curiosity. It was deep and husky, the kind of voice that could make anyone stop in their tracks. I looked up, and there he was—Mr. Na. My breath caught in my throat. I was in disbelief. Why now, of all times?

He was dressed in a sleek black tuxedo that fit him perfectly. His black hair was slicked back, giving him a polished and sophisticated look, yet his eyes were soft and kind, with a hint of worry. He looked at me with an expression that was both gentle and concerned, as if he was unsure of what he had just walked into.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low and gentle. It was the kind of voice that could ease anyone's nerves, but at that moment, I felt a rush of embarrassment. Of all people to find me in this state, why did it have to be him?

I stood there, holding the damp tissues, my face flushed and my heart racing. I could see the reflection of the chandelier lights in his eyes, and it made him look even more striking. His tuxedo was impeccably tailored, emphasizing his broad shoulders and trim waist. Despite the sophistication of his attire, his gaze conveyed genuine concern, as if he truly cared about what had happened.

I tried to smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace. "Yeah, I'm fine," I said, my voice shaky. "Just a little accident, that's all." I gestured to my chocolate-stained dress, trying to play it off, but it was hard to hide the embarrassment.

Mr. Na took a step closer, his eyes scanning the scene. "Are you sure? That looks like more than just a little accident," he said, his tone soft but firm. "Do you need any help? Maybe a jacket to cover up or something?" His concern was genuine, and it made me feel both grateful and self-conscious at the same time. I knew he was trying to be kind, but his presence only made me feel more aware of my disheveled state.

I pushed my hair back, trying not to cry from the sheer humiliation of it all. My hands were still damp from the wet tissues, and my heart was racing. I kept my eyes down, focusing on the chocolate-stained fabric of my dress to avoid meeting his gaze. I didn’t want him to see the embarrassment in my eyes, or worse, the tears threatening to spill over.

“It’s fine, really,” I said, trying to sound casual, but my voice cracked slightly. I was still in disbelief that it was Mr. Na standing there, concerned about me. This was the same Mr. Na who was fierce and strict during lectures, who could command a room with a single word. But now, he was completely different, his demeanor soft and caring.

He took a step closer, his expression gentle but still filled with worry. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and soothing. “It’s okay if you’re not. I can help you find something to cover up, or we can find someone to give you a ride home.” His kindness felt almost surreal, given how he usually commanded respect with his strictness and high expectations in the classroom.

I shook my head, trying to muster a reassuring smile. “Really, it’s fine,” I said, my cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. “It’s just a little mishap, that’s all. I can handle it.” I didn’t want him to go out of his way to help me, not when I was feeling so vulnerable and exposed.

But he didn’t seem convinced. His eyes lingered on my chocolate-stained dress, then returned to my face, where he seemed to read the emotions I was trying to hide. It was strange to see him like this, so different from the stern lecturer I was used to. His voice was calm and understanding, his usual intensity replaced by a softness that made me feel like I could trust him.

Mr. Na looked at me with concern, then glanced at my chocolate-stained dress. He hesitated for a moment, then without a word, he removed his jacket and gently draped it over my shoulders, covering the worst of the mess. I felt the warmth of the fabric and the comforting scent of his cologne. It made me feel a little more secure, even as my eyes welled up with tears. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but the anger and humiliation were hard to contain.

He gestured for me to follow him, his touch light but guiding. "Come on," he said softly. "Let's find a place where you can clean up." He led me away from the crowded parts of the hotel, toward a quieter bathroom in a different wing. It wasn't the same one where I had encountered those mean girls, which was a relief.

He waited outside while I cleaned up, his presence a calming influence in the otherwise empty corridor. I used the wet tissues to wipe the chocolate off my face and attempted to tidy my hair as best as I could. The stain on my dress was mostly hidden under his jacket, but I could still feel the sticky residue on my skin. It was uncomfortable, but knowing that he was just outside made it easier to deal with.

When I stepped out, Mr. Na smiled gently. "Feeling better?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. I nodded, trying to keep my emotions in check. I didn't want to break down in front of him, not after he'd been so kind to me.

He led me back to the hotel lobby, which was now almost deserted. It was late, and most of the guests had already left. I glanced outside, hoping to find a taxi, but the streets were empty. Mr. Na noticed my hesitation and offered, "I can give you a ride home if you need it. It's no trouble."

I hesitated, not wanting to impose, but the thought of walking back alone in my current state was daunting. "Are you sure?" I asked, trying to hide my excitement. He was my crush, after all, the one I had fallen out of love with, or so I thought. But now, those old feelings seemed to be resurfacing, and I could feel my heart racing.

"Of course," he replied with a reassuring smile. "It's the least I can do. Besides, I'd feel better knowing you got home safely." His words were simple, but they carried a weight of sincerity that made me feel at ease. I nodded and agreed to the ride, my excitement bubbling beneath the surface.

As we walked toward his car, I couldn't help but think about how much had changed. I thought I had moved on from my crush on him, but now, it felt like those feelings were emerging again, stronger than ever. It was a mixture of excitement and nerves, a reminder that sometimes, even when you think you've moved on, the heart has a way of finding its own path.

The car was immaculate, with a faint scent of leather and a hint of cologne, matching the scent of his jacket. I slid into the passenger seat, feeling the coolness of the upholstery against my skin. It was a luxurious vehicle, clearly well-maintained, reflecting his meticulous nature.

Mr. Na got in on the driver’s side and started the engine, the soft purr breaking the silence of the night. The dashboard lights cast a gentle glow, illuminating his face in a way that made his features stand out even more. The air inside the car was warm, a stark contrast to the cool night outside.

As he drove through the mostly empty streets, I felt a mix of emotions. Part of me was still embarrassed about what had happened, but another part was grateful for his kindness. The soft music playing on the car radio, combined with the gentle motion of the car, created a surprisingly relaxing atmosphere. I kept glancing at him out of the corner of my eye, trying not to be obvious, but he seemed focused on the road, his expression calm and composed.

“Do you live far from here?” he asked, breaking the comfortable silence. His voice was gentle, lacking the sternness he often had during lectures.

“Not too far,” I replied, giving him directions. I felt a bit nervous, unsure of what to say or how to act. This was my strict lecturer, the one who usually commanded the classroom with an iron will, yet here he was, giving me a ride home like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The conversation was light and casual as we drove through the quiet streets. He asked about my studies and how I was planning to spend my summer holidays. I answered with simple responses, still trying to gauge the situation. There was something about the way he spoke, the softness in his tone, that made me feel at ease despite the awkward circumstances.

As we approached my dorm, I pointed out the building. Mr. Na pulled up to the entrance and parked the car. Before I could thank him, he turned to me with a smile that seemed to light up the dimly lit interior.

“I’m glad I could help,” he said, his eyes meeting mine with a gentle gaze. “If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I want to make sure my students are taken care of.”

His words were kind, but they also carried a weight that I couldn’t quite define. I thanked him, my heart racing from the unexpected kindness and the warmth of his smile.

But just as I was about to step out, he reached across and gently pulled my hand. His touch was light but firm enough to stop me from leaving. The sudden contact sent a jolt through my system, my heart skipping a beat as I looked at him in surprise. There was something in his eyes—an intensity I hadn’t seen before.

“Wait,” he said, his voice low and steady, but I could hear the underlying tension. He didn’t let go of my hand, his fingers wrapped gently around mine. The moment felt electric, the air between us charged with something I couldn’t quite define.

I was in disbelief. What was he doing? This was Mr. Na, the stern lecturer who was always so composed, so in control. And now, he was holding my hand, looking at me with an expression that seemed to speak volumes. The tension between us was palpable, the space within the car suddenly feeling much smaller.

“There’s something I need to say,” he continued, his eyes locked on mine. His grip on my hand tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to let me know he was serious. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I can’t ignore it anymore.”

My mind raced. What was he talking about? Was he about to say what I thought he was going to say? The possibility seemed impossible, yet the intensity in his gaze suggested otherwise. I could feel my pulse quickening, my breath catching in my throat. This wasn’t just a casual conversation—it was something more, something that could change everything.

“I like you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “More than just as a student. I know this is unexpected, but I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer.” His words hung in the air, the silence that followed heavy with anticipation.

I was stunned, my mind struggling to process what he had just said. My first reaction was disbelief—this couldn’t be real. But his eyes were sincere, and the way he held my hand suggested that he meant every word. I felt a rush of emotions—confusion, excitement, uncertainty—all swirling together in a dizzying whirlwind.

“What?” I finally managed to say, my voice shaky. It was all I could think of, my thoughts racing too quickly to form coherent sentences. The tension between us was almost unbearable, the space in the car feeling like it was closing in. I knew that whatever I said next would have consequences, that this was a moment that couldn’t be taken back.

Mr. Na waited, his gaze unwavering, his grip on my hand a constant reminder of the connection between us. I had no idea what to do or say, but I knew that this was a turning point—one that would change everything.

He held my hand, his grip gentle but firm, and I could feel the rising tension between us. His eyes were soft yet intense, conveying a mix of emotions I couldn't quite decipher. He took a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I appreciate the way you appreciate my hard work," he said, his words measured but filled with sincerity. "I know I can be strict in class, but you were always fully focused. You worked hard, and it showed in your academic performance." His eyes never left mine, and I could feel my heart racing as he continued. "And the way you smile when I pull out those silly jokes during lessons—it flutters my heart. It really does."

I stared at him in disbelief and nervousness. This was the same Mr. Na who commanded respect in the classroom, and yet here he was, speaking to me like we were equals. It was almost surreal, the way his demeanor shifted from stern to affectionate. The tension in the car grew, a palpable charge in the air, and I knew he was waiting for my response.

He hesitated, as if unsure of how to proceed. "I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable," he said, his voice softening. "But we're not that far apart in age, and I just started my career as a lecturer earlier than most. I don't want to pressure you, so if you can't agree with my feelings, just ignore what I said. We can just stay as—" He didn't get to finish his sentence.

I leaned in and kissed him. At first, it was gentle, almost tentative, but then it grew more intense, our lips pressing firmly together. His surprise melted into warmth as he responded, the kiss becoming deeper, more passionate. The tension between us exploded into a rush of emotion, and I could feel the heat building as our kiss grew steamy.

We pulled away, both of us breathless, our faces close, our eyes locked. He smiled, his expression a mix of joy and relief. It was clear we both knew the signs—this wasn't just a fleeting moment. We liked each other, and the kiss had confirmed it.

He chuckled, breaking the silence. "I think you might need to take a shower," he said, gesturing to the chocolate stains on my dress. I laughed, the sound filled with warmth, and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"Thanks again," I said, my voice filled with gratitude. "I'll see you soon."

"Goodnight," he replied, his smile never fading.

I stepped out of the car and waved goodbye, watching as he waited until I entered my apartment building. The night had taken a surprising turn, and as I made my way to my room, I knew that this was just the beginning of a story I couldn't wait to see unfold.

[shyvien-obeyme]

⚜️ Little Moth

✧༺⚜️༻✧

⚜️ Summary: You need help researching local insects. Who better to ask than your favorite angyboi bookworm, Satan?

⚜️ Content: Satan x Reader. No gender specified. Mentions of insect taxidermy. Slightly grotesque at one part. Otherwise, it's all just gentle fluff. 🐈🪷🦷

⚜️ Word Count: ~1,500

⚜️ Note: Lepidoptera is the name given to butterflies and moths. This is my first ever fic. I don't ever plan on becoming much of a writer, I've just been wanting to get my thoughts and fantasies somewhere. But if you have any helpful constructive criticism, please let me know.

I had always has an interest in pretty things, so it was no surprise that I liked insect pinning. It was a small hobby of mine that I’d enjoy in the human world whenever I would come across deceased butterflies or other insects. I also just enjoyed spotting the different local Lepidoptera. But since being in the Devildom, I haven’t been able to partake in this hobby of mine, as I am not very familiar with Devildom creatures. And knowing that the Devildom is a rather magical place, I fear that picking up any random dead moth would leave me cursed or something. So that's when I decided that I should study more about the wildlife in this strange new place I‘ve been suddenly thrust into. I think it over. How do I obtain this knowledge? Maybe I should go to the RAD library?…Or perhaps I could ask Satan if he has any books on local insects. I decide on the latter; It would be a good excuse to spend some alone time with him and talk to him about a favorite hobby of his, books. 

You leave your bedroom and hike upstairs to Satan’s door. Knocking on it’s antique wood, you whisper “It’s me, MC. Can I please come in?” “Ah!” He exclaims gently before you hear a quiet shuffle and his footsteps near the door. He opens it and asks “Of course you can come in. How may I help you, MC?” with a gentle smile gracing his soft pink lips. He steps aside and gestures for you to enter his room. It’s a large room, dimly lit with candles and ethereal moonlight pouring from grandiose arched windows. As usual, it’s something similar to a maze as you maneuver around piles of books stacked as high as pillars. He shuts the door behind you, creating distance between the both of you from the rest of the house so that you can have some much needed privacy. Standing before him you ask, “Umm, I hope you don’t mind… I was wondering if you had any books on the local wildlife. Insects specifically.” You twiddle your thumbs and blush slightly. Even though you love the boys to death and have spent ample time with each of them, you can’t help but to feel a little embarrassed about revealing your hobby. He pauses to think for a moment, hand on his chin as he averts his cerulean eyes. “Yes, I think I have a few, let me take a look.” Thankful that there seemed to be not even a shred of judgement, you take a seat and watch as he shifts his attention to focus on the given task. He gracefully paces back and forth, checking a few different places in the room for books matching your request. He pulls out books from a large stack with precise precision, as if taking a block from a Jenga tower, careful not to knock the rest over. About 6 different books pile in his arms as he meets you on his relatively stiff bed.

“Is something like this what you’re looking for, MC?” You take a look at the books. Some large and thick, others thinner. Some bound in leather, some very old and moth-eaten, and others that seem more modern. They all seem useful, but your attention sticks to the book with the title: Devildom Moths and Butterflies; A Complete Guide. “Ah, yes! Something like this.” You take a moment to peek through a few of the pages before Satan questions “Might I ask what you need these for? You seem very interested” “I‘d like to take a closer look at Devildom’s insects, even take some home if they’re no longer alive. So I wanted to make sure I did research on them first - lest I get struck with some unruly curse!” You gesture dramatically with your hands before chuckling lightly. Satan’s eyes widen slightly in surprise before relaxing into a sweet smile, as if he wasn’t surprised you’d take interest in such a thing. He loves the look of excitement on your face when you find something else that you’re fascinated by. He’s also happy that you came to him for that help, not one of his idiotic brothers.

He shimmies a little closer to you until your thighs and shoulders are touching. You can feel the warmth radiating from his body, and you can smell the subtle floral and musky scent of his cologne. You take a long breath in, letting his essence spill into your nose and send waves of comfort reverberating throughout your whole body, making you relax a little more. “Want to take a look at this book together then?” You look up at him and smile with a nod. “I’d like that a lot!” You gently pry open the aged leather-bound book, pages fluttering as you turn them, and your eyes wander at the pictures of the different butterflies of the Devildom. Together, you pore over the short blurb of information on each of the insects.

“•Demon Silk Moth

Located in only this specific region of the Devildom, the Demon Silk Moth produces silk that contains very special properties and is used for making the most luxurious clothing. The moths are also made into a wide variety of gummies. Yum!”

“•Devil Clothes Moth

A common and destructive pest that eats away at clothing, carpets and tapestries, causing significant damage to any and all fabrics. Is found all over the Devildom, and can be kept away with Mothballs. You can tell when a Devil Clothes Moth infestation is on the rise when you begin to notice holes and weakened spots in your clothing.”

He reads aloud in his smooth and feathery voice as you follow along with your eyes. You point and ask about some of the more eccentric looking Lepidoptera as you see them, to which Satan replies with stories of the occasions he’s found their beauty and grace in person. He places his pointer finger, tipped green with Asmo’s designer nail polish, onto a picture of a butterfly similar to that of a Blue Morpho in the human world. “These ones we often find residing in the garden of the Demon Lord’s Castle. They’re much more beautiful in person, you should see the way their scales glisten in the moonlight. It’s truly an enchanting sight” Your face lights up at his retellings, you feel the excitement surge through your body, letting your toes wiggle as an outlet for some excess emotion to spill out. His expression is warm and gentle, deepening your feeling of ease and comfort. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as you rest your head on his shoulder, continuing to read together.

“This butterfly here with what looks like eyes on its wings, charms it’s victim to eat it so it can lay eggs inside the hosts brain, and like a parasite, it takes over the victims body, making them seem like a zombie and controlling the body to find an area perfect for its offspring to grow and to then devour the corpse as it comes of age.” “Creepy. I’m totally glad a took the initiative to research before possibly ending up as a zombie, haha!” You almost shudder at the thought. “Good thinking. Not to mention, I don't think zombies make good exchange students” You respond by make a silly face and growling like you think a zombie would, extracting hearty giggles from both of you.

Holding the book with one hand, he snakes the other around your waist to pull you in closer. You stare at him again for just a moment, silently consenting to his touch. Your big, goofy yet content smile sends heat to his cheeks. He warmly beams back as you reposition your head back against him, he responds by settling his head against yours. “I value time spent with you, little moth.” You’re struck by Cupid as the words leave his lips. Little moth? “L-Likewise.” “Well, what do you say we make this insect spotting a date? I know perfect places for us to go looking. We should prepare a picnic as well.” “It’s a date, then!” Your glee and excitement is palpable. He takes the moment into his hands and lands a chaste kiss on your forehead with his warm lips, sealing the promise.

Your head spins. It’s at this moment, with wide and glazed over eyes that you realize, the butterflies you were looking for were in your stomach this whole time.

✧༺⚜️༻✧

𝒮𝒽𝓎 𝒲𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓇 ༝༚༝༚

[yanderepuck]

Kinktober Day 29

AND WE'RE BACK FOR A FOURTH TIME. It's that lovely time of the year where I write mediocre smut with no plot for a whole month. So sit your ass down and take a few minutes to read some smut.

As always, kinktober is held by our local Napoleon simp, @xxsycamore

If you'd like to read the last three years, go here

Remember to reblog and tell me what you think

Sex Games | Trying New Positions

You poke your finger at one of the stacked blocks. It pokes out on the other side of the tower and you carefully pull it out.

You've never been great at Jenga, but this version is a little different. On each of the blocks is something you can do with a partner. A few of the blocks are already missing from the tower and are laying around the tower. Things you've already done.

You look at the block and shove it in your pocket for later. You leave the room and go about your day doing chores and cooking. It isn't until after dinner that you go to find Vincent.

Every few days one of you has pulled a block from the tower and shown it to the other. You were hoping it would get you two into doing something you wouldn't have done, but the activities on them are a little plain.

'Give oral for 2 minutes'

'Doggy style'

'Let's do it in the kitchen'

'Take your top off'

Nothing completely exciting. But the one you pulled today could be fun.

"Vincent," you sound happy as you enter his room.

He was just starting to clean up his paints for the day when you came in.

"You seem to be in a good mood," he smiles at you.

"Hold out your hand for me," he does as you ask and you take the block out of your pocket and put it in his hand.

He flips it around to read it and his eyes widen a little.

'Have sex while bathing'

"Are you okay with doing this?"

"Of course I am. I wouldn't be showing you it if I wasn't, silly."

You grab his arm and start pulling him out of the room.

"Did you check to see if anyone was in there?"

"No one bathes around this time. Mozart waits until the middle of the night so we'll be fine."

Vincent follows you down to the thermae. Being cautious you still lock the door to go in. If anything they will assume it is you getting a bath so it's not like they will try to unlock it.

You get in the water after Vincent with a gun.

"Mmm. It's so warm."

Vincent gets close to you and wraps his arms around you. You put your hands on his cheeks and start kissing him. He kisses you rougher and leads you over to the edge of the bath where there is a ledge to sit on.

You follow him without hesitation and when he sits down, you sit in his lap. Your hands go under the water to rub him, immediately getting him hard. As he moans he kisses you harder. His hands slide down to grab your ass, lifting you up just enough.

You shift yourself closer just enough so that when you sit back down his cock slides inside you. Your hands rest on his shoulders, your nails dig into him while you move up and down on him.

He moans along with you. His grip on your ass helps you up. You try. Not to move too fast so the water doesn't splash too much. You sit on him and just rock your hips, getting him to whine.

"D-don't stop," he sounds desperate for you. Just a few minutes ago he didn't even know you pulled that block and now he's desperate for you.

Letting go of your ass, he grabs your chest, groping them as rough as he can it seems. You try not to yell, knowing it would echo.

Seeing you bite your lip, Vincent kisses you again. He tried to thrust up into you to get you to start moving again.

Whining slightly you start moving up and down again. You come down harder but stay fairly slow.

"Ahh-hh fuck," you break the kiss to be able to breath. You gasp as he pinches your nipples.

His lips go to your neck, still wanting to feel you on his lips. He gives you little bites, not with his fangs, but just a little something to leave marks.

"You're so beautiful," he says lowly.

You keep moving, feeling yourself getting closer and closer but not quiet there.

He lets one of your boobs go, letting it enter the water to rub you.

Your breathing hitches and you come down on him harder and moan louder, not caring about the echoing any more.

He keeps rubbing you, then finally bites you, pushing you to finally cum.

You keep trying to move to get Vincent to finish as well. It only takes you bouncing a few more times before your walls are covered in his cum.

He moans with his mouth still on your neck.

You both sit there and pant. You keep him inside you as you lean your head forward and rest against his shoulder to breath.

"Ungh...I don't want to walk back now..."

[gronzen]

CHVLR is also a great game.

So keeping up with my new apparent schtick of talking about story-focused games, let me tell you about CHVLR!

You're gonna die.

So, CHVLR is a solo-journaling game in the same overarching vein as Ronin, albeit in this world you are a mecha pilot fighting an enemy of your own imagination and of course for your own reasons. Where Ronin uses dice, CHVLR uses a standard deck of cards and a Jenga tower (or, if you're a normal person who doesn't randomly own a stacking block tower, an online d100 dice roller) to determine scenarios, moral questions, etc. via the deck while the block tower acts as a sort of "health bar." You slowly pull out blocks from the tower at certain prompts or add them back in until you either manage to somehow make it through the game alive, or more likely the tower crashes and you face your doom. You can of course play without the tower to make sure your character doesn't die, but I feel like that takes out some of the sting and glory out of it.

After all, how else are you supposed to die such a rabid monster that the enemy has to drop an entire space colony?

[olliethescribe]

Do Hypno and Warren have any favorite games in your head canon?

I’d like to think that Warren loves Scrabble - he has an expanded vocabulary from his work as a journalist and reporter plus he’s amazing at coming up with new insults for people. He’s gonna destroy anyone in word games and he’s gonna be thrilled about it :] he wants to believe he’s good at Monopoly too but always ends up flipping the board when things don’t go his way

As for Hypno, I know strategy games aren’t his strong suit and it would be a cop-out to say he’s enjoys card games - hmm. I think he’d enjoy games with a hands-aspect like Jenga - he can stack the pieces and pull them so the tower remains standing even if it look precarious. Warren has no idea how Hypno does it but he’s always impressed - but becomes less impressed when the tower of wood blocks comes crashing down on him

[braveclementine]

Drama

Warnings: None

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OCs, which consist of Penny Fury, Elizabeth Nelson, Elijah Chan, Katya Venice, Violetta Moscow, Lan Le, Josh, Trang Tien, Ahni Jallow, Mai Ito, and Ghaida Kashual as well as other OCs that will come up throughout the story.

They were all in the community room when they got the notification.

It was another one of those fun days. There wasn't any work and Elizabeth had spent the morning baking so there were chocolate chip cookies and vanilla cupcakes. There were cans of opened soda everywhere and even some of the younger Avengers they almost never saw like Peter, Kamala, and Riri were there, with MJ and Ned.

They were playing mostly board games, with Star Wars running on the TV in case someone just wanted to watch something.

Penny was playing candy land with Elijah, Rhodey, and Sam. Elizabeth was laughing as she played shoots and ladders with Trang, Katya, and Violetta. Natasha, Steve, Vision, and Ahni were playing Mouse Trap. Both Pietro and Bucky had accidentally broken the hungry hungry hippo set so they were playing Go Fish! together with Kamala and Loki.

Thor was confusedly trying to playing cooties with Tony, Lan, and MJ. Meanwhile, Bruce, Clint, Stephen, T'Challa, and Ghaida were playing a very serious game of Jenga. Of course, this version of Jenga was stacked very high, nearly all the way to their heads with heavy wooden blocks. Wanda was sitting nearby to use her powers to protect anyone nearby if the tower came crashing down.

Mai, Shang-Chi, Sif, and Carol were playing BS together. Kate, Josh, Hogun, Fandral, Volstagg, and Riri were playing UNO. And then Peter and Ned were playing battleship while also watching the Star Wars movie that was up.

"THAT'S SHIT!" Carol shouted as Sif managed to win the game. "THERE IS NO WAY!"

Ghaida danced around the leaning tower of wooden blocks, tapping each one.

Elizabeth munched on a chocolate chip cookie while Steve watched her, waiting for his turn, and wondering if he could lather her in vanilla frosting and lick it off later.

"Mr. Stark." F.R.I.D.A.Y. suddenly asked and the room quieted down a little. They were all apprehensive, sure that Fury would be trying to call them into a mission. "There is a Jay Tao here wanting to talk to Trang Tien."

"What!" Trang yelped, knocking off the pieces on the board.

"What is he doing here?" Elizabeth asked, sitting up, looking over at Ghaida who had paused in taking out a brick.

Ghaida was quiet and then winced, "Um, he's here to take Trang back to Vietnam with him."

"Why?" Tony asked in a harsh voice.

"So should I send him up?" F.R.I.D.A.Y. asked before Ghaida could answer.

"Fine." Tony snapped.

Elizabeth got up, going over to where she was taking more cupcakes out of the oven and started to decorate them. Bucky quickly joined her. Steve decided that meant he could join too and hurried to their sides.

Penny waited and watched as not only Trangs' soulmate, but also Sharon Carter came into the room. Sharon had a hint of amusement in her eyes as she snagged one of the cookies and then sat in a corner of the room. Jay on the other hand, looking extremely angry.

"What is this?" Jay shouted, ignoring the rest of them, looking only at Trang.

Trang was on her feet in seconds, taking the newspaper from Jay. She looked at it for a moment and then sighed, "Jay you knew I was-"

"I didn't know you were with the entire fucking team!"

Penny noticed that his accent was gone. She remembered how heavy it had been when she had gone with the team to confront the Vietnamese army for invading Cambodia. It had been just as thick as the ones who didn't know any English. But now it was gone, only as thick as Trangs'- which was pretty light.

Ghaida placed the brick on top of the Jenga tower and Clint started to look for his next move. Peter turned the Star Wars movie up a little.

"It wasn't the entire team." Trang scoffed.

"So how many?" Jay scoffed right back, pointing his finger at the paper. "Three? Six? Twelve? Your best fucking friend is sleeping with the entire fucking team-"

"Oi." Elijah said in a dangerous tone, getting up now as well. "Jay-"

"What kind of man lets his soulmate whore-"

Elijah shoved Jay up against the wall and hissed something at him under his breath before letting the Vietnamese man go.

Jay shrugged him off and then said, "You're coming back home with me to Vietnam."

Penny glanced over at Trang and surprisingly, it was Elizabeth who spoke up. "She can't yet."

Jay glared at her so ferociously that Elijah's hair started to flame and Bucky looked like he was going to strangle the Vietnamese man with the icing bag. "And why not?"

"She has a contract with the Avengers." Elizabeth said, not even looking at the man as she carefully decorated each cupcake, reaching for the chocolate icing as she ran out of vanilla. Penny smirked as she saw Steve slip an entire jar of white icing into his pocket. "She can leave in a year, but not now."

"Do you understand what I'm facing?" Jay asked angrily. "First off, my girlfriend shows up with the Avengers, interfering in something that should never have been interfered with in the first place. Army relations in other countries are none of your business. And then it turns out that my soulmate is part of this. . . this. . . debauchery! My Captain is this close to dishonorably discharging me from the service."

"I'm sorry." Trang said. "Jay, you know I would never do anything to hurt you or get you in trouble. The minute the contract is done I'll come back to Vietnam with you, I swear."

Penny winced and looked over to see Tony looked like he had been slapped across the face. He turned swiftly on his heel and left the room. Loki hesitated and then quickly went after him. Stephen on the other hand, stayed where he was, frowning slightly.

"I'm going to be staying in the United States for the time being." Jay said, still angry. "I've got an apartment. You'll move in. That's allowed, right?" He shot at Elizabeth's back.

Steve flinched a little as Bucky squeezed the icing tube to tightly that icing sprayed across Steve's face. Elizabeth barely glanced at Jay. "Of course. As long as she's close enough to suit up for missions." She proceeded to pull Steve's face down and kiss the frosting off him, right in front of Jay. Penny tucked her lips to hide her smile and saw Kat and Vi were both smirking as well.

"Let's go." Jay said, looking at Trang and then looking around the living room. "Clearly you're not working today."

"Sure, I'll meet you in the lobby. I have to pack." Trang whispered softly, holding her arm awkwardly. Penny's smile slipped off her face.

"I'll take him down." Sharon offered, standing.

"I'll take him down." Stephen interjected, standing up and putting his hands in his pockets. He gestured to the elevator. "After you."

Once they were gone, Elizabeth finally paid attention, "Trang, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Trang replied, sighing. She glanced at Elizabeth and apparently Elizabeth understood, because she moved away from the super soldiers and slipped out of the room.

The Ohioans quickly converged around her, hugging her. Penny hugged her tightly as well. She could tell Trang was close to tears.

"You don't have to go." Clint said softly.

"I do." Trang said, breath hitching slightly in her throat but she smiled. "You guys are lucky to have soulmates who want to do this too. I'm just glad I got a little time."

Penny glanced over and saw Riri looked ecstatic. Penny felt bad for both Trang and Tony. She could only imagine Riri pouncing all over Tony the minute Trang was gone.

"See you guys later." Trang muttered and left the room.

🐏🐑 ｐ𝕆𝓥 ᶜᕼⒶήｇ𝐞 🧇🈷️

Trang headed down to the lab. She would have to make the visit short and she was sure she was going to end up crying, which was something she didn't want Jay to know she had done. She didn't want him to know she was actually upset about leaving all of this, leaving Tony. It wasn't fair to him, for him to know that she loved someone else.

She walked into the lab and found Tony and Loki there. Loki looked up and stepped back, letting Trang have the field.

"I'm sorry." Trang whispered. She knew he was going to be harsh because that was how he protected himself. So she ran her words out of her mouth as quickly as she could, hoping she could make him understand before he said something hurtful that would crush her soul and leave her in pieces that Jay would never be able to pick up.

"It's not that I don't love you Tony, if I could stay here I would. But I can't just disobey my soulmate either. He's still my life partner, he's still the one that I'm mated to for the rest of my life. I can't change it. And I'm so sorry. I know. . ." Her voice cracked and she quickly cleared her throat and said, "I love you so fucking much. I wanted. . . I wanted everything with you. I never wanted a child until I met you, I never knew love until I met, I never knew the things I wanted until I loved you. And just because I'm leaving doesn't mean I still don't want all of that with you and Loki and Stephen. But I can't. It's not in the cards for me. The others, they're lucky. They get soulmates that want this as well. But my culture? The Vietnamese one? It's soulmates and if you deviate from that it's more than a sin. It's almost a crime. I can't not leave with him. And I'm sorry."

She turned because she didn't want to see Tony's face. She didn't want to hear his words. There was nothing that he could say that would make this better, nothing he could do. Money wouldn't get him what he wanted this time.

And if he said something hurtful, it would break her. She had never meant to love him so deeply. And if he said that he loved her too, wanted all of that with her too, it would still hurt her, because she would never get it. It was a pipe dream.

A hand caught hers, spinning her back around so that Tony could crash his lips against hers. He was crying and it started her own waterworks, so that their tears clashed with each other.

"I love you too." Tony whispered. "I promise I'll never make you cross the lines again. I promise that Trang." He pulled back running a finger over her cheek to wipe her tears. "Just. . . be happy, okay?"

Trang couldn't say anything because she would cry again. And so she just smiled, pulling away from him slowly. She walked backwards a few steps, then turned and full out ran back to the doors that would lead to the lobby.

Elizabeth was waiting there with her suitcase.

"Don't cry." Trang warned her. "Or I'll cry too."

"It'll work out Trang." Elizabeth said seriously. "Somehow it all will. Because you deserve happiness."

"Well," Trang said softly, lifting the handle. "I will have it. I'll just have to find it with my soulmate. Like it was always intended."

Elizabeth scoffed. "Yeah. I'll believe that when Elijah starts shooting ice out of his hands and I start breathing fire. Destiny doesn't write us. We write our destiny."

"Look at you." Trang smirked, opening the lobby doors and saw Jay looked up at her. Stephen was just leaving, going a different way. "Trying to start writing poetry again?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "No. Just trying to cheer up a friend. I'll see you around ugly."

"See you around ugly." Trang smirked and then went to join her soulmate.

[lizisshortforlizard]

Living Dangerously - Chapter 24

Jurassic Park’s animal handlers: none of them ever mentioned by name in Michael Crichton’s original novel. Who were they? What were their lives like on Isla Nublar? Did any of them survive the disaster?

A year in the life of those responsible for the care of the dinosaurs. Many people would kill to have their jobs.

But would they die for it?

Jurassic Park novel/Jurassic Park film (1993)

Viewpoint: 3rd person female oc

Wordcount: I’m not keeping track anymore, its a novel at this point and I’m only 1/3 of the way there

Warnings: the usual swears and men being misogynistic aholes

Tagging: @heresthefanfiction @ocappreciation @arrthurpendragon @howlingmadlady @wordspin-shares @starryeyes2000 @themaradaniels (lmk if you would enjoy my sporadic updates, any and all welcome)

Read on Ao3 (ha. Hahaha. Good luck)

Chapter 23 | Chapter 25

Bad Reputation - Joan Jett

Cambridge, Massachusetts

Dennis Nedry was getting pretty goddamn desperate.

The habitually ignored stack of envelopes by his apartment door, no doubt overdue bills, was mounting higher by the day. He could just barely cover his rent, and was working nearly every waking second, taking on extra contracts at Integrated to scrape by.

He wouldn’t make the mistake of bidding low ever again, that was for damn sure.

Nedry cursed John Hammond and InGen as he tapped away at his keyboard in the darkness. Lamenting how only a year ago, his clothes had fitted him much better. He’d enjoyed getting some fresh air, a welcome break from his computer screens. He’d go jogging around Harvard Square on Sundays and play tennis with his friends. He'd had a life. He’d had a girlfriend.

Had. She was long gone.

Sure, maybe he'd been a bit frivolous with his spending, placed a couple of hefty bets on ball games he probably shouldn't have. These days, he was paranoid about leaving his apartment at all, just in case the debt collectors would show up and start liberating his furniture. He was worried they’d even take Unix away from him, an orange goldfish that was now his constant and only companion.

Nedry glanced up and noticed with shame that the glass of Unix’s tank was starting to get a little too green.

“Sorry, buddy. Clean you tomorrow. I promise.” He muttered.

His recent anxiety was made worse by the looming threat he’d actually have to venture out to Costa Rica to take a look at InGen’s system in person. The Arnold guy he'd been talking to was getting more and more pissed-off and sarcastic with each long-distance phone call. Hell, he'd probably have to pay out for his own flights. Hammond was cheap.

Humidity. Heat. Socialising. Urgh.

Things were bad. Real bad. He was in need of a miracle.

Nedry was considering calling it a night to step away from his console and microwave some leftover noodles when there was a quiet tap-tap on his door.

Strange. He hadn’t heard anyone ring the buzzer. How had they gotten in the building? A chill ran through him.

Please not the landlord.

As a rule, Nedry didn’t answer his door unless he was expecting someone, which was almost never. He didn't have guests over anymore. The apartment was too messy.

A creak of the floorboards outside, then he watched, holding his breath, as a single sheet of paper was pushed under his door. He waited for a long time as footsteps retreated down the hall, and he fought the urge to peer through the permanently drawn curtains to the street outside.

Nedry eventually heaved himself up from his desk chair with an effort, sending a stack of floppy discs tumbling like a Jenga tower. Grunting, he bent to pick up the slip.

Scrawled on it was the address of an all-night diner on the corner of his apartment block, and a single question:

Are you ready to get what you’re owed, Dennis?

***

“Uh, hi?” Armstrong’s smiling face swam into view, trying to make Muldoon acknowledge the cup of coffee she had pushed in his direction. “Welcome back. You were miles away.”

Baker glanced over, buttered toast halfway to her mouth.

Muldoon hesitated for a long moment, struggling for something, anything to reply with, before she had the chance to pry further.

”You’ve no idea.”

Oh, the usual. Just re-living Hell.

”Hey Lizzy, don’t let Ed see you bringing people drinks or you’ll never hear the end of it.” Kathy warned loudly.

Across the canteen, the red-haired Regis ducked his head, hiding his face under his baseball cap.

Lizzy shot Muldoon a worried look while everyone else turned to stare at the PR manager.

Are you okay?

He shrugged in return.

Been much worse.

The worst had nearly happened, for the second time in his life.

Before Armstrong had brought him back to the present day, he'd been dredging up old memories of the first time. He'd done his best to forget, drown it out, but it still got the better of him. Kenya, eight years ago, nearly to the day. The day he'd found a lioness crouched, snarling, over the motionless body of his wife.

The unthinkable had almost repeated again more recently when the ethologist had found herself at the business end of Triceratops horns, that day in the paddock. That had been his fault too, for dragging her into something so dangerous.

Muldoon was struggling to stop over-thinking the last few moments before the crash, when time had stood still. It hadn’t been the impact of the dinosaur smashing into the side of the Jeep that had propelled Armstrong into the drivers seat, practically on top of him.

No, that had happened before the collision.

In the milliseconds before the trike swung her head, Muldoon had wrenched the wheel away with one hand and virtually scruffed Armstrong by her shirt collar with the other, pulling her across the vehicle, likely saving her legs from being crushed in a jagged mess of metal and dinosaur horn.

She obviously didn’t remember any of that. Which was fine, he didn't want her gratitude. It had been a reflex, he’d have done it for any one of his staff. At least, the animal handlers. Even Kennedy, contrary to what Richardson seemed to believe. Who, by the way, was becoming unbearable in his accusations that Armstrong was spending a lot of time down on her knees, doing her utmost to get a promotion.

Not long ago, Muldoon had been taken aside by him for a “chat” that began with a warning.

“Careful.”

“Always careful.” Muldoon grumbled.

”Not what I meant. You and her…you two are up to something, and I don’t like it, not one bit. You’re far too involved. You know what’ll happen if you get caught messing around with someone…” Richardson sniffed in disdain. “-beneath you.”

“I’m fully aware. Are you?”

It was incredibly obvious Richardson had a thing for Hammond’s Haitian girl, which wasn’t mutual no matter how imaginative you were. Not to mention ironic, given the way he spoke about Baker. Or, in fact, any of the young women on the island.

Richardson bristled, refusing to let him have the last word. ”I hope I’m the one to catch you at it. She doesn’t belong here. Neither does the black one. Mucking around in the dirt is no place for a woman. Not even one as feral as Elizabeth.”

Muldoon had only shook his head and walked away before he did something he regretted. There was just no getting through to some people. He’d like to see how Richardson would cope if he were suddenly air-dropped into the middle of the Kenyan wilderness after darkness had fallen, ghostly eyes reflecting back at him in the torchlight and ungodly noises echoing from all around.

He’d even bet money on indoor-dwelling Arnold lasting far longer than the so-called Animal Supervisor, who seemed to be doing less and less of his job now the new recruits were trained up to standard. He barely went out in the park anymore.

Sooner or later, something important was bound to be missed.

Which would no doubt be my fault too.

***

Lizzy and Rico were on their way to the next task of the morning, Rico trying to teach her a few more words of Spanish en route when the voice she dreaded hearing the most on the island rang out from behind her. And, horror of horrors, it was trying to get her attention.

“Ah, Elizabeth!”

She already had been practicing mierda, idiota and carajo, all of which would have served her well at that moment.

“Adios amiga!” Rico nodded at her and zipped off, leaving her all alone.

”Shit, Rico! Get back here!” Lizzy hissed and picked up her pace, no intention of being left alone with the man she couldn't stand at the best of times.

She snuck a quick look behind and shit, he was following her. Fasterfasterfaster.

Richardson, puffing hard, gave up the chase and reached for his radio.

”Elizabeth, I can see you. Turn around.”

Lizzy. It’s Lizzy. LIZZY.

She stopped but refused to walk back to him, no, he could come to her. “What do you want?”

”A helper. For a special task.”

His choice of words made her skin crawl.

“Go on.” She was highly suspicious.

“Christmas is coming, the geese are getting fat, and well-“ he stopped to make room for a booming laugh. “-we can’t leave the island entirely unstaffed, now can we?”

”Can’t we? I thought that was the whole idea? Hammond’s vision? Full automation? Minimal workers?”

Richardson continued brazenly, still out of breath from catching up to her. “Not really possible, in case of any emergencies with the livestock. Welfare issue, or some jargon like that. And I thought you would be an ideal candidate, in spite of your, eh, unfortunate luck. Recently single, no children, no commitments at all. No problem agreeing to it.”

The matter wasn’t up for discussion. He was just framing it so it would seem like a privilege. An honour to be alone. Not at all a punishment.

And it stung like a bitch.

He wasn’t done. “If you can agree to anything Robert says, you can do as I ask just this once. Don’t be difficult.”

Double ouch.

Lizzy swallowed her instinctive colourful answer and tried to keep her blood pressure down, though she was brimming with rage. “Any reason you can’t stay here?”

”Of course not, I have a life.”

“I’m sure.”

“You needn’t worry. The park can function by itself for a full two days. But I have to ensure at least one animal handler will be around. To push a few buttons to keep things ticking over. Feeding routines and suchlike. Pull the meat out of the freezer. You have a doctorate, I’m sure you can figure it out. Do it for the dinosaurs."

”Great.” Lizzy replied flatly. “I guess.”

Just downright insulting at this point.

“Wonderful. Then consider yourself marooned.” Richardson laughed again, swanning off, while Lizzy was left stony-faced and trying to figure out which deity she may have caused offence to recently.

She heard a faint mechanical buzzing and looked up to locate the surveillance camera mounted in the palm trees, slowly zooming in on her.

Ray.

Well, at least one other person saw what happened.

”Can you believe this shit?” She spoke to the lens.

The faint red light on the camera blinked sympathetically in response.

***

Dr. Ruso's infamous infant raptor was finally making the journey to Isla Nublar after a small paddock had been hastily built. It was only temporary, as soon as more raptors were hatched and grown, the whole cohort could move into a bigger enclosure, which was still currently under construction.

Word had gotten around by the time the raptor was due to arrive on the transport, and the entire animal handler team had turned up to watch her being offloaded, curious to catch a glimpse of the fearsome beast who had relieved an embryologist of her digits.

Most were underwhelmed when they saw the size of the kennel she had travelled in.

"That's it?" Tom was incredulous. "That's the aggressive animal they can't handle on Sorna? It's not much bigger than a damn chicken!"

”Pretty cute.” Ed Regis muttered, not put off at all by the high-pitched snarling coming from the infant as she feinted charges towards the fence, tapping her curved claws on the soil between attacks. “Especially if it stays this small. Kids’ll love it.”

“The genomics programme estimates an adult height of ten feet tall.” Kathy deadpanned, quickly bringing him back to down from his PR buzz.

“Ten…feet…” Regis faltered.

”Roughly Ostrich size." Muldoon nodded. "I’ll be interested to see how fast it is full-grown. If it makes it that far.”

”I'm always blown away by your positive outlook.” Lizzy muttered.

“What do you mean by ‘makes it that far’?” Regis was naïve as ever.

"It's on thin ice. Any trouble and I wouldn't hesitate to retire it."

"You mean...?" Regis was horrified.

”Steady, Robert. We already talked about this. You can’t be so graphic when we’re open to the public-“ Richardson warned. "Someone will hear."

"I'm clearly joking. Isn't it obvious?" Muldoon's tone was so dry Lizzy had to turn away to hide her smirk.

The group turned to stroll back to the Jeeps, though Regis lingered behind, wishing he had brought his camera.

"Don't put your hand through, Ed." Kathy called over her shoulder as an afterthought. "I need to get some Danger, I bite signs made up to hang on the fence."

"Make extra. To stick on Elizabeth.” Richardson suggested.

"Oh no. My sides. They have split." Lizzy answered in monotone. Her superior had been strangely benevolent the past few days, trying his utmost to be her best friend since he'd asked her to stay on the island over Christmas, and she didn't like it at all. She found it far creepier than when he was trying to undermine and put her down constantly. "Please. Send help."

Lizzy reached one hand out to Muldoon dramatically, the other closing around her neck as she made an admirable act of pretending to choke. ”Get…Gerry…tell him…I love him…”

He just muttered something like I’ll get you a boot up the arse which turned Lizzy's appeasing smile into a genuine one.

She was about to answer back with a rude remark when there was a sharp yell from the fence behind them and she spun around to see Regis trying to wrestle something out of the raptor’s jaws.

"Seriously?!” Kathy was the first to start racing back to help him.

Regis gave a final tug and fell backwards into the dirt, scrambling away from the fence. He was white as a sheet, but seemingly unhurt.

“Jesus, Ed!” Kathy exploded, tucking the sawn-off wooden shovel handle she had taken to carrying around with her as an improvised breakstick back into her belt loop. “What are you playing at? I literally just told you! Don’t put your goddamn hand through!”

”I d-didn’t!” He denied, stammering.

”Then have some common sense and don't turn your back either!” Kathy added angrily. “The budget didn’t stretch to double fencing! Are you hurt?”

“No, no, sorry, I guess-aw, man!” Regis had looked down to assess the damage. A chunk was missing from his Trenton Thunder polo, now inside the pen and being toyed with by the baby raptor, who was stalking and pouncing on the scrap of grey fabric. “My lucky shirt!”

“Lucky?” Tom asked in disbelief. "Man, Trenton suck."

Regis went very red. "Take that back."

"Guys, please." Kathy tried, then put her head in her hands as the two men continued flinging sports-related jabs at each other. All Hell erupted when Regis brought Tom’s mother into the argument, and the other handlers had to pile on to hold him back, even diminutive Lizzy was hanging off his arm, digging her heels into the ground.

Muldoon found himself wishing that cleaning cupboards occurred naturally in the Costa Rican rainforest, to give him the means to knock all their heads together. This was ridiculous. He noticed with disgust Richardson was just standing there watching with amusement at the group turning on each other, like he was enjoying it.

"Help me." Baker turned to him. "Please. You gotta."

"You're more than capable."

"I can't, they won't listen."

"Then make them listen. You've got to make a noise."

"I..." She pointed then let her hand fall limply to her side.

"Prove him wrong about you, at the very least." Muldoon nodded towards Richardson.

That did the trick. Her face hardened and she nodded, planting her feet wide apart.

"Just...just s-shut up, all of you, or you'll be cleaning the toilets for the next month!" She nearly screamed the last part. Baker looked the most shocked of all of them at the volume she'd just produced.

Silence instantly fell.

"Woah." Tom whispered. "Go Kathy."

Well done, Baker.

She hesitated, amazed, then continued, voice trembling. “Nobody goes near this enclosure except myself and Muldoon. Us two alone will deal with the damn thing. No exceptions." She sounded braver now, looking each of them dead in the eye in turn. "Understood?"

A chorus of yes Kathy resounded from the handlers gathered nearby.

She was exhausted, but pleased. She'd done it.

Lizzy slyly peered into the enclosure, trying to see how the raptor had reacted to Kathy's yelling, before Muldoon caught her eye and gave a sharp look.

That includes you. Be patient.

She rolled her eyes in answer.

"I did it!" Baker murmured to him happily. "It was good, right?"

"Much better."

"Okay, coming from you, that's high praise. I'll take it!" She flashed her Hollywood smile and started back to the Jeeps with a definite spring in her step, most of the handlers following her lead.

Except for Armstrong. She remained near him, just the two of them lingering by the fence, still watching the raptor savaging the “lucky” shirt.

It was certainly a bit of a leap, but Muldoon liked to think the raptor had picked up on his instant dislike of city-slicker Regis, and given him a good scare on his behalf. It clearly didn’t like the way the PR manager smelled overpoweringly of cologne, judging from how it was growling and snapping at the shirt scrap. Armstrong’s legs were avenged, until the next time.

At least that was one small point in the animal’s favour. Maybe it wasn't entirely a waste of time, keeping it alive.

“Oh my God.” Armstrong muttered, in the middle of an epiphany.

“What?”

She glanced side to side, looking out for over-curious eavesdroppers before leaning in towards him, whispering knowledgeably. “You like her.”

”I don’t like it. It’s a damn animal.”

“Of course you do! She’s smart, fiesty, and she has a bite history! What’s not to like?” The ethologist was smirking up at him.

Well, she wasn’t exactly wrong.

“Hm. Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do.” Lizzy guessed it would pain Muldoon more than anyone to have to put the raptor down if she was involved in any more gory accidents. Vicious or not, it was still a waste of life. The dinosaur had no purpose except entertainment. “She’s dangerous.”

“You’re talking rubbish, woman.”

“Mm-hm. Careful, kid. He has good aim.” Lizzy turned back to the fence and spoke directly to the raptor, who cocked her head at the sound of her voice. “Better run.”

Her smile quickly faded when the young dinosaur chirped and turned tail, scuttling off into the undergrowth.

The game warden and the ethologist stared at the empty space where the raptor had been seconds before, then exchanged glances, having exactly the same thought.

How dangerous?

Lizzy spoke first, slowly shaking her head. “I’m very much hoping that was a coincidence.”

***

Kathy quietly took Lizzy to one side as everyone filed out of the canteen after dinner that night.

"Can we talk?"

Oh no.

That sentence never means good things.

"Sure." Lizzy replied hoarsely as she hopped up to sit on one of the tables, Kathy pulling up a vacant chair to sit in front of her. She tried to keep her expression calmly neutral, when all she could think was oh my God, she knows about the raptor behavioural plan, she’s mad I kept it from her for this long, shit-

"Nothing's decided yet, so don't panic, but I wanted you to be the first to know..." Kathy shifted nervously, then sighed deeply and dropped the bombshell. "I'm thinking about leaving InGen.”

Oh.

Well.

Lizzy gawped back at her dumbly before her system rebooted and she could speak again. "Don't you dare! Why? What happened? Tell me, who did it? I'll make them wish they were never born!”

Kathy chuckled and took her hand. "It's not just one person, or even one thing, hun. It's kinda…all of it. It's too difficult, not being taken seriously, like, ever. You can deal with it. But me, I can't. And besides, I don't want to anymore."

"You did it today!"

"Yeah, and now I'm exhausted!"

"It'll get easier-"

"I miss my mama." Kathy rubbed Lizzy's fingers as she spoke. "My buddy at the Smithsonian called. The Mammal Curator is retiring next year and I'm thinking about applying.”

A position like that came up about once a decade if you were incredibly lucky.

“The Thanksgiving announcement kind of sealed the deal.” Kathy shrugged. "I mean, we don't exactly work nine to five, but they’re taking advantage of us.”

Because of rising pressure to meet deadlines, time off requests for Thanksgiving had been denied. A management decision which was met with all five stages of grief from the American animal handlers. Kathy in particular had been very upset that she wasn't allowed to go home to see her folks, and morale was dropping lower by the day.

"Kathy, I don't think I can hold the fort without you. The gender ratio is downright appalling as it is!"

"Get real, Lizzy! How many times have we, well...you in particular, for some reason, gotten seriously hurt since we arrived here? Zoological institutions are supposed to take accidents involving the animals pretty damn seriously! We don’t even have any guests yet and it already feels like Gennaro gets paid commission!"

"I see your point, but this is the first time anyone's ever tried containing a dinosaur-"

”Lizzy, I’m scared.” Kathy's eyes were huge and pleading. “We’re just numbers. We're replaceable. It’s only a matter of time before something really bad happens.”

The Team Leader’s gaze dropped down to one side. She couldn’t shake the ominous feelings, and her bad dreams continued to plague her. She ran through contingency plans and emergency procedures over and over in her head, still worrying they weren't good enough. Her worst fear was the next time there was an accident, help would arrive too late.

Lizzy tried to lift the mood. "You can't leave me here with Marìa, she doesn’t ever bloody speak! Shit, imagine if they brought in Sarah Harding to replace you?"

"Then come with me?" Kathy offered. "For the low, low price of a flight to Washington DC, you too could be taken seriously by your peers!"

"Washington's a bit cold for my liking..." Lizzy fooled.

"They have elephants at the Smithsonian?" Kathy dangled motivation in front of her. "Pretty sure they'd leap at the chance to score you, Dr Armstrong."

"Hm. Same shit. Different day. Different part of the world."

"Yeah, but at least the piles of shit would be smaller!" Kathy scoffed. "You have a PhD, what the Hell are you even doing here, working as a glorified cleaner?"

Lizzy played the last card in her hand, changing the subject. "You realise if you walk, then Ray isn't hanging around either? You’re pretty much responsible for the last ounce of his sanity.”

Hell, she'd could probably wave goodbye to Isaac too. He adored Kathy nearly as much as the engineer did.

Her friend smiled sadly. "Good for him. It’s just a job.”

"Huh.” Lizzy didn’t agree. It was more than a job. She ate, slept and breathed the island. It was her life, and she’d already given up a career in Africa and a long-term relationship to get this far. But she didn’t like the sound of sacrificing her friends either, or getting attached to people if they weren’t going to be sticking around.

"Relax, the old curator hasn’t officially announced his retirement yet.” Kathy reassured her. “I’m just super prepared. I wouldn't be leaving until next summer, June or July at the earliest, if I got the job.”

"Of course you'll get the job. You're bloody brilliant." Lizzy moped.

”I can stick it out for the full year.”

”Work for InGen for a year, and you can work anywhere you want.” Both women said at the same time.

“I’d make history, I’d be the first female Mammal Curator at the Smithsonian, ever. Think Muldoon will give me a glowing reference?” Kathy quirked an eyebrow.

“Eh…I wouldn’t ask until after you’ve got an interview secured.” Lizzy replied warily. “And more like a mildly positive reference, if you catch him on a good day.”

“When does that man ever have a good day? Maybe I should ask Richardson instead?” Kathy asked solemnly.

Lizzy must have looked doubtful, because Kathy burst out laughing. “I’m kidding, jeez! But at least I wouldn’t have to sleep with Muldoon.”

Kathy rolled her eyes and Lizzy could almost see the animated lightbulb appear over her head when she realised the deep freezers were left unattended. “C’mon, let’s get some ice cream while nobody’s around.”

***

Thanks for reading!

One of the rare glimpses into Muldoon’s past provided by Michael Crichton in the novel, forgive me (or not) for h/c-ing one of the animal attack scenes he witnessed was the demise of someone close to him. I will be writing this in more detail later on, even though it physically pains me to hurt him this way. This fictional character who my life revolves around.

Also: Oh God. Now I’m consumed with guilt at the thought that Nedry never came back for Unix :( (spoiler alert?)

[pumpkinsy0]

curly: this is tim he's a little gay but sometimes he just puts cigarettes on my head one time i woke up and he was stacking a pack of them like jenga blocks on my forehead

[ajgrey9647]

Putting a blanket on them while they are quick asleep on the couch + post-Green With Evil (either universe~) Tommy/Jason

Santa's Secret Elves

Prime Universe a la the Quad Life AU

**Also inspired by an old Jenga video with wild moves I was tagged in**

The chilly December wind whistled under the eaves of the lake cabin, the wood creaking slightly along with the almost ethereal singing of the breeze. The sky was a deep velvety black strewn with stars like glittering diamond dust. Outside the icy waters blended into the heavens, so still that no rippling waves distorted the reflection.

Sipping his homemade eggnog, Red stared out at the crystalline firmament, captivated as always by the vastness of the world beyond the safety of his new home. Sometimes, he wished he was brave enough to venture out into it, to explore the beauty of nature, take pictures on his vintage camera that Jason and Tommy had given him for his birthday, and paint more scenic canvases.

Then, the overwhelming feelings of being ‘out of time’, of ‘otherness’, of crippling agoraphobia when not with one of the others, of not knowing how to operate in the this world after living as a dog in a universe that reverted to the ways of old would wash over him. The daydream then became too much to bear, too frightening.

The brandy mixed with the eggnog made him feel warm and calm, the whipped cream tickling the tip of his nose. Tiptoeing to the kitchen doorway, Red peeked into the living room, a smile curving his lips under his grey beard. He wasn’t at all surprised by what greeted him.

The lights were off save for the twinkling lights adorning the live Christmas tree in the corner. The scent of the pine was a special joy of Red’s, a little of nature within the safety of his home. A stack of presents piled under the tree had slid haphazardly across the wooden floor, shiny greens, reds, silvers, and golds reflecting the string of lights in the branches above.

Lights still flicked from the television set, the sound turned down but Red could still hear the bleeps and buzzes of the video game that Drakkon and Jason had been playing earlier in the night. It appeared from the screen that the former tyrant’s starship had been destroyed and the Red Omega was the victor of the match.

Neither man was aware of the outcome as both appeared to be fast asleep. Jason, curled on his side like a child, hands tucked under his chin, had even turned away from the television, his shoulders subtly rising and falling. Drakkon sprawled across the easy chair he had been sitting in, one leg hiked over the stuffed arm, head tipped back, and slightly drooling from the corner of his mouth. The White Ranger lay in a heap on the couch, one arm dangling off the side.

Red’s grin widened and he couldn’t help a small chuckle.

Deciding to have a ‘game night’, the evening had originally started off with Tommy and Jason playing the video game while he and Drakkon squared off over a game of Jenga. Since they were celebrating Christmas a few days after the twenty-fifth to allow the younger two to spend the holidays with their families and friends and avoid suspicion, several glasses of eggnog and wine had been consumed by the group. Red, Tommy, and Jason had been slowly enjoying their beverages over the course of the night while Drakkon had been like an idiot with a jet pack (as Tommy described his other self).

The asshole had downed drink after drink as he attempted to pull blocks from the precarious tower, and he was beginning to become frustrated. His hands had grown shaky and his vision blurring.

“Goddammit!” Drakkon slurred, just barely managing to maneuver his block free.

Grinning slyly, the White Ranger looked at the pair over his shoulder as he and the Omega battled their respective starships.

“Hey, Red, why don’t you show Dr. Lecter that cool trick you showed me the last time we played? It looks like you’ve got a good set up for it.”

Drakkon raised a brow.

“Let’s see it, Snoopy,” he razed swaying slightly.

The grey-haired man smiled beatifically and sat his glass of eggnog on table. Approaching the tower, Red took a deep breath and aligned the side of his palm against a lone block in the middle of the structure. Slowly, he made a few practice swings.

“Oh, bullshit, Red!” the tyrant cackled. “You two are full of it!”

“Just watch!” Tommy taunted before turning back to the video game just in time to see Jason detonate his ship. “Dammit, Jase! That took me two hours to build!”

Still watching Red intently, the tyrant ignored the other men’s childish bickering.

“Don’t blink,” the lithe man whispered, giving his lover a wink.

Suddenly, his hand swung in a practiced knife strike, dislodging the block easily without toppling those above.

Drakkon stood, mouth agape for several seconds, sure he was hallucinating on alcohol.

“Oh, fuck you!”

Red laughed and bowed grandly.

“I hate this game anyway!” the other man grouched. “Tommy, its my turn on that thing. You come put up with this shit.”

Rolling his eyes, the White Ranger heaved himself up from beside the Red Omega.

“You’re such a soiled sport, dude. Maybe put your drink down a minute and you wouldn’t suck ass,” he snarked, bumping drunkenly against his other self.

Drakkon flipped him the finger before settling in and starting to create his own starship.

The evening continued on with rounds of slurred insults and loud, obnoxious laughter. At some point, one of them had popped some popcorn and forgotten it until the fire alarm blared, making all of them jump and collapsing the Jenga tower, blocks scattering across the rug.

Deciding he’d had enough with the raucousness, Red had volunteered to clean up the kitchen and dispose of the ruined snack. Flipping on his radio, he gently swayed with the music as he worked, mostly old-fashioned Christmas carols pouring from the small speakers. By the time, he’d wiped the microwave and counters, washed and dried the dishes, disposed of the trash, and fixed himself another eggnog, the living room had grown mostly quiet.

Now, Red stared into the room, his heart swelling with love for these crazy asses. Hopefully, they all wouldn’t be too hung over in the morning; Drakkon was blazing a trail there most certainly. Finishing his drink, he carefully stepped around the sleeping forms of Jason and Tommy, making his way to the bedrooms and switching off the television and game console as he passed.

Gathering an arm load of soft blankets, Red gently made his way to each slumbering partner and tucked one around them where they lay. Bending over, he also placed a kiss to their forehead.

“Merry Christmas, guys,” he whispered when he’d finished.

Then he quietly climbed the stairs to the bedroom upstairs that he and Jason shared when they wanted to signal they were too sore, sleepy, or ill for a wild sex romp. His own head was slightly swimmy and he couldn’t wait to crawl into bed himself.

Once the door clicked shut, Drakkon cracked the corner of one eye and carefully turned his head toward the stairs.

“Give him a minute to fall asleep,” Jason hissed under his breath, eyes still tightly squeezed shut.

Tommy turned his face from the crease of the couch, grinning evilly.

“I can’t believe we pulled that off! He really thought we were all drunk!”

Jason giggled.

“Well in Drakkon’s case that’s not farfetched!”

“Fuck the both of you,” the man in question whispered, lifting his head from the back of the easy chair. “This was my idea anyway!”

Tommy flipped him the bird and the group remained silent for several minutes.

All evening, Drakkon, Tommy, and Jason had pretended to suck back eggnog and wine, each making sure to gradually become ‘tipsy’ as the games continued. The tyrant was a pro at pretending to be intoxicated as it had served him well on several occasions in his former life to ‘play possum.’ He’d taken much of Red’s attention and had been sure to omit the brandy from their respective drinks.

“Ok, I think it’s safe,” Jason murmured, sitting up slowly, listening intently for sounds from the bedroom upstairs.

Quietly, the men found their feet and dressed in warm clothing, mindful that Red could awaken at any moment. His drinks had been the real deal but the former pet had not imbibed all that much.

Flipping open his phone, Drakkon scrolled his text messages.

“She’s got him ready. Let’s go!”

Like Santa’s elves in the night, Tommy, Jason, and Drakkon darted under the cover of darkness to the White Ranger’s car. The older man was practically giddy over seeing Red’s expression when he received his gift from the three of them. The White Ranger and the Omega were also keen to see the grey-haired man’s face.

Drakkon had floated the idea back around Thanksgiving, pointing out that while they each had a list of responsibilities, Red did the lion’s share of the housework and landscaping. He was essentially the caregiver of the group, nurturing them when they were sick, cheering them up when they felt sad, and listening without judgement when needed.

He deserved something extra special for Christmas.

And they had noted the way Red reacted when they were out and about and he’d been in contact with others, the way his face lit up and he’d smile, truly joyous with each encounter. So they decided he needed one of his own.

Returning to the lake cabin, the three men carefully unlocked the door and crept into the living room. Thankfully, all was still, the lights still off and no sounds of movement from upstairs.

“Come on,” Drakkon grinned. “Let’s put him next to Red.”

He cradled the gift in his arms, a large red bow sticking off the top. Shifting the weight from one side to the other, the tyrant led the way up the stairs, the bundle making small whines and giving a large yawn.

Cracking the door to the bedroom, Drakkon peeked inside hesitantly.

“Oh what the fuck,” he whispered loving to himself.

“What?” asked Tommy, worriedly. “Is he alright?”

Pushing the door open all the way, the larger man grinned.

“See for yourself.”

Jason and Tommy tip-toed inside the bedroom to see Red, only half undressed, curled across the bed perpendicular, the blankets cascading off the side to the floor.

“Someone partied too hearty,” the Red Omega laughed tenderly. “Sure didn’t take much this time. I thought you two were experienced drinkers.”

Drakkon rolled his eyes.

“I think someone overdid it with the brandy in the homemade eggnog.”

Jason and Tommy moved to where Red was sprawled and pulled off his shoes, grabbing the blankets when they were finished. Tucking him in snuggly, they both kissed his bearded cheek.

“Where are you going to put him?” Tommy asked, nodding at the furry, pudgy puppy in Drakkon’s arms.

The black and brown canine let out another yawn, his long tongue stretching most of the way out of his muzzle. The bow stuck on his head swished to the floor, losing its grip on the fine hairs of his head.

“Right beside him.”

He shifted the animal over to the bed gently.

“Goddamn, this guy is heavy. He’s going to be a monster when he grows up,” he grinned. “If he’s this big already…”

Tommy frowned.

“How are we going to see Red’s face when he wakes up?”

Jason spread his arms.

“We’re camping out in our room for a change, boys.”

The puppy, Bear, pressed his wet nose to Red’s neck and licked his salty skin curiously. He was going to be a great companion for their partner, keeping him company here at home, his preferred place to be. And Red seemed to have a way with wildlife and plants, amassing a vast amount of knowledge on a range of subjects including plants, flowers, birds, gardening, up to scientific names even and other obscure facts.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” Drakkon whispered in Red’s ear, kissing his temple. “We all love you tremendously.”

[genkigratification]

floriopathy

or read it here on ao3

Eda'd known for longer than she'd ever been willing to admit that the Owl Beast curse wasn't the only problem racking her old body. The second was at least a more normal affliction, one that didn't require a trip to whatever apothecary that'd take her coin for a potion to keep that blasted bird at bay, but it sure as hell was more annoying.

But time eased it. Let the miserable thing weaken it until what remained was little more than an annoying tickle in her throat. Wasn't like Eda'd hated it, what it meant or why, but it let her keep that many more snails from her sales. It was just something any witch growing up caught and kept.

Well, except Lilith. As far as she could tell, it wasn't like her sister kept secrets.

The only times it flared was when Eda's eye caught an old gift, a piece of paper scrawled with scores, when she'd wake up from the same recurring string of memories the Owl Beast infected as if trying to tell her something she definitely didn't want to acknowledge, and then the telltale tickle would scratch at her throat, chest congesting before petals scattered out with a cough, and Eda'd have something new but familiar to cast her irritation of the day on.

Oh, you'd think anyone with a bit of experience in plant magic would've cured the damn thing by now, but the best they could figure out was something Eda'd realized the week she'd been working it through her little head and trying to extract the bud burying itself deep in her chest: that it was sourced directly from their magic, and taking away one'd just take away the other. Call it a bit of magical overstimulation taking life's easiest form, and thank the Titan for that — she's pretty sure if it'd been anything similar to what Alador was up to in his heyday, there'd be a lot less people in the Abomination track.

"She does this sometimes," King explains from atop his sofa throne, carefully stacking blocks one on top of the other. Luz waits for him to put on another before she continues the tower up, and he waves a claw. "I dunno really what causes it, but one minute Eda'll be fine and the next BOOM! Flowers everywhere. She said it was some sorta witch thing, so I'd be careful if I was you."

"I don't know if it's something a human can catch just by learning magic, King, but thanks for the heads up. I'm preeeetty sure I'm never gonna have that problem though."

Because like, she has some super cool friends and Amity was way amazing, but flowers? No way.

Eda leans on the doorway, arms crossed, and the two jump at her voice. "You're not, 'cause it's a witch problem, not a human one. Luz is right, King, you don't catch it from learning magic... especially not from learning magic with those little glyphs she does."

With a wiggle of her fingers, because the little glyphs deserve it.

"So what is it anyway, Eda? If it's magic related, I wanna learn about it!"

Luz's determination is always as endearing as it is annoying, but the former wins out and Eda forces her sigh to sound a little more exasperated than she really is before she comes to join King on the couch, the pup wehing as he's bounced from her landing.

"Alright, alright, I'll tell you. But in exchange, you two have got to tell me what you've got going on here —"

"It's my future castle!"

"I'm teaching King how to play reverse Jenga. It's when you stack blocks on top of each other instead of taking them off."

The older witch looks at them both, King proud with his little claws against his hips and Luz sitting cross-legged on the ground, and shrugs. "Either way, count me in. I'll teach you two how to make a heckuva nice castle and tell you a little story to boot. The Flower Curse isn't a real curse, like my Owl Beast, but..."

... It sure does feel like it when you're a runaway hiding from the law, a teenage Eda gripes to herself as she suspends the petals in air at chest level, careful not to let the Emperor's goons catch wind of them. Raine's somewhere nearby, she knows, waiting for her to reappear, and once the clanking passes she's up and away on her broom, cruising over the rooftops and dropping the mass of flowers onto one of them to be swept by the wind as she keeps an eye out for the other. Once she's caught sight of them she swings down and through the alley, landing neatly next to them with nary a hair out of place; Raine, on the other hand, has to smooth down their clothes at her dynamic entrance.

"You're always making a statement," Raine says to her cattish smile, and the underlying endearment in their tone makes her chest all stuffy. "Did you lose them?"

"Probably. If I didn't already, there's no way they'll find us once we're out of town."

Confident as ever, as Raine liked to say, but it's true — the Boiling Isle is a treasure trove of hiding places, and the knee remains one of Eda's favorite places to tuck away into. The wild magic everywhere just feels so... good, unlike how contained it is in town, though she knows Raine'd prefer their warmer hangout above the trees. The sound of music is muffled by snow, they'd say, and Eda waves them off; it's better they're out here, then, so they can play as loud as they'd like.

("And how's this relate to that flower cursey thing you have?"

"Shut up, King, I've been dying to know about the next chapter in Eda's romance, so—"

"Both of you keep your mouths shut. I'm not tellin' you all this for fun, I'm tellin' you as a warning. Keep an eye out for your friends at school, they're getting around the age. Anyway, like I was saying, Rainestorm and I headed up to the Titan's Knee to play a few tunes...")

The cold air was refreshing on her face, and the sharpness of the chill always felt like it helped keep the petals at bay just a little longer; for all the talk of the snow muting sound, it seemed as if the music she plucked from the strings was clear as bells. The soft, sweet melody that accompanies it right beside rests warm over her shoulders like a shawl, and maybe, maybe if she wasn't so into keeping her magic as wild and free as the bird on her staff, Eda'd consider going into the Bard Coven, too. They sure were nice, and their style suited her plenty.

Bidden by the song, the gentle brushing of their elbows, Eda can feel the lightness, the tickle in her throat, how the flower curls its petals and reaches up, out, stretching basking in the sun that they harmonized together, but she knows it won't cause a cough. Because it's in moments like these that she feels pretty at ease, that the world falls away and all there is is the two of them on a lonely mountain only the crazy, stupid, and desperate dared to traverse.

And hell, weren't they all three?

"Boy, does it feel good to be up here!" Eda says with a stretch, falling back into the snow and holding her lute to her chest. "You can see the whole town."

Raine hums their agreement, violin laid carefully in their lap as they look down the mountain.

It's quiet, simply the wind grazing snow against the two, before the bard speaks up. "It's funny, don't you think?"

"What, how small everyone is? Definitely. They're like little ants."

"No— Well, sure, that too... but I'm talking about the curse."

Eda stiffens, chill going through her, and she sits up on her hands as she looks over at Raine. "Curse? What curse?"

There's no way they know. There's no way, because Eda's been perfectly fine at hiding what's wrong with her and Raine's never chased it and—

"The Flower Curse," they continue, and she barely keeps herself from sighing too much in relief.

"Oh, that thing? It's a total load of crap, you mean. Who'd spit flower petals just because of a crush?"

There's silence, and she glances at her companion. Raine tended to get colder than her, a little more easily, and the redness on their cheeks reminds her of that; Eda closes the gap and pulls her cloak around the two of them, thinking nothing of the motion as she ties the front back up.

"There's no cure for it," she eventually replies to the quiet, "but who cares? It's not like anyone's died from it—"

"But they have, Eda."

Raine lifts their head and turns to her, noses brushing thanks to their close proximity. And Eda couldn't even blame the cold for the burning in her ears. "They have died, but the blame's being thrown to another cause. Anything but their own magic suffocating them."

It's ridiculous to think about, is why. The sac pressed against their heart shouldn't bear any sort of curse, or anything that'd kill them in that way — magic deprivation might do it, or going in and removing the thing definitely would — but saying it does was like saying that to use magic was a curse itself. And it didn't make a difference if you were wild or bound to a Coven, which really must make the Emperor mad.

She frowns a little, hands crushing the snow at her side. "Rainestorm, what's—"

"I have that curse," they rush suddenly, and Eda's words fall away. If Raine had the curse, then—

"You have a crush on someone? Oh, no way, who? I'll help you out!"

The flower in her chest rises again, tickling at her throat, and Eda swears to drink some weed killer if it'd stop it in its tracks. Raine flushes again and shakes their head, burying their face into Eda's cloak.

"I—I don't need help or anything, Eda, I just wanted to talk about it." About how they might die, and become someone else in the papers. "Maybe we can figure something out, between the two of us."

Nothing seemed impossible together, after all. The witch rubs at her throat, turning back to look at the sprawling town so far below. Someone in the Bard track, maybe. Raine kept a bit to themselves, and was a little shy to show what they were made of on stage, but they had a quiet confidence and mischievous streak that matched her own — and she liked that about them, had always thought it cool, it's a wonder they had any worry of their magic acting up when the person they had a crush on would definitely feel the same.

(Luz would wonder the same when she caught stray petals by Amity, and Amity would wonder as well once the time had past; but the young are young and it's only once older you realize the bud remains forever, flowering differently each time for different reasons and different people.

Loss, too, is a form of yearning.)

The two linger longer on the Knee, before eventually the chill worms firmly into their boots and hides and they return back to the hideaway they share sometimes, where Eda makes her bed and Raine studies for their continued ascent into the Bard Coven; the warmth has never been so welcome, and the redhead hurries to bundle herself up under the covers as her counterpart goes to sit at their desk, dredging up various journals and books from within the drawers painted a meadow of colors.

They tour the town, asking after witches with telltale imprints on their throats from roots snaking through their veins, finding flowers of all varieties among the covens — it didn't seem to matter one bit, only that it was connected to love (which they knew) and the theory of curing it by removing the sac where their magic gathered only strengthening with research into restricted topics, taboo experiments performed by "lesser" witches long past. It was as natural as breathing to have it, as if one begot the other, and the realization put a stopper in their plans to cure Raine's affliction.

Eda remained aware of her own, careful not to show it or the beast that lay lurking in the depths of her mind to Raine, and eventually their own lives caught up to them once more; the books were put aside, research shelved for a day that may not come, and returning to the time they made for one another.

... In present time, the story is much less than the memory itself: They learned of Raine's curse, sought a cure for it, and found there was none. Fruitless as their search was, it was fun to hang out and learn more about magic than they'd been taught at Hexside, to explore the darker ends Eda wouldn't suggest Luz follow, with a hint to where the restricted sections of the library held its best secrets. It's as bare as any other story Eda's told them when it came to more personal matters, and she stands with a stretch as she finishes it off.

"Soooo after all that research and junk we did, we just ended up right where we started — with no answers and just what we knew, that it was magic based and people with those wiggly feelings got it worse than others."

Luz opens her mouth at the same time King does, two very different statements crowding Eda's ears:

"That's it? That's all? Edaaaaa, you suck at telling stories! There wasn't even any—WEH!"

"So you had feelings for them too? Did you ever tell them—OOF!"

King's cut short as he's swooped up by his tail, wriggling fruitlessly in Eda's grasp as she tosses him in the air and then into Luz's fumbling embrace. "Yeah yeah, no blood no fighting, but you know what time it is, kids?"

The two look at her, waiting, ignoring the darkness that'd come to press itself against the house's windows as if holding its breath for the rest of Eda's unspoken tale. She opens her mouth and Hooty springs back to answer for her:

"Hoot hoot! It's bed o'clock, you two! Nighty-night, don't let the bunkcrawlers bite!"

"Bunkcrawlers?!"

"Oh, don't let Hooty scare you, they're perfectly harmless," Eda reassures the human. "They only bite if you kick 'em."

But without any knowledge of where they were or what they looked like, Luz would certainly stay as still as a rock once she'd been tucked in — King too, from the look on his face, and Eda shoos them off before escaping Hooty's evening conversation starter back to her room.

Once there, she heaves and petals scatter across the flooring, a multitude of colors of all shapes and sizes. Eda clicks her tongue and waves her hand, magic pulling them aside and into a jar for later casting when the two were off on some youthful venture.

The tickle remains in her throat long after she screws the cap shut, rubbing her throat with a sigh as she flips through the same journals and books she and Raine had poured over so long ago. Within some of the pages are drawings on the margins, notations of a song or the sort of flowers they'd found evidence of from others, secrets written in code as they ventured closer to three words that'd only strengthen the roots threading through the magic sac pressed against their hearts— Eda looks at them fondly, setting the books aside and leaning back in her chair as she pops open a bottle for the curse that belonged to her and her alone.

The rest of the memory plays out in her dreams as they always do, though rare it is when it isn't that recurring string that the owl beast's fond of plucking, and the teenaged Eda rests her head against Raine's shoulder with a yawn, closing her eyes. The other's stillness breaks and she feels their arm wrap around her, their head resting on her own.

And, as always, Raine speaks first.

"It probably won't cure it," they say, "but do you mind if I try?"

She peeks open an eye, squinting at them for a second before shrugging. "Oh, sure, I don't mind. Go for it, whatever it is."

It's a simple thing, ends before Eda realizes what even happened, but Raine's warm face close to hers puts two and two together so fast she spits petals right into it, a flurry of flowers that get them both spluttering and back a foot.

Raine wipes their face and stares at Eda; Eda starts to wipe her mouth and lingers instead, staring back at Raine.

"I like you," they say simply, but their voice is soft and wavering; they still can't get over their stage fright, even though the performance is a private one — it's for an audience of one, their speciality, but the piece is too important, too close to their heart, and Eda laughs awkwardly.

Not the best move, going by Raine's sheepishness as they start to draw away, but what else was she supposed to do — she grabs for them before they get too far, the moment quiet before Eda fumbles with words she didn't think would be so hard to reply with. "Me too— I mean, you too. Liking. I like you too."

No, it doesn't cure their curse — never in the history of magic had it, it was simply a fact of life no different than the palismen the Clawthornes carved or the Covens the Emperor had put into place so long ago. But the flushed look on Raine's face, the way their hand grips hers, the sweetened sound of Eda's own heartbeat in her ears as they share another kiss...

It makes her think that maybe there didn't need to be one.

[jeanjauthor]

Dude, if you have tomatoes in the bodega, they come with their own seeds.

Also:  Picture those shoppers and sidewalk...er...walkers.  Suddenly in a medieval environment.  Desperately wanting modern housing, rather than rat-infested medieval stuff.  A computer programmer who was at the bodega to pick up some chips figures out how to code with magic, talking with a plumber who was living in the area, they figure out how to use magic to re-plumb the building so hey, people have running water again--magic for the electricity, they have power!

It all starts when the plumber, in the bodega to pet his favorite neighborhood cat, helps the coder--who has no home, having been visiting from two blocks over because only that bodega carried his favorite brand of imported crisps--to find a place to stay with Old Man Pczensky on the 10th floor, in exchange for getting the young coder to carry Pczensky’s belongings up and down all 10 flights.  And that’s when the coder is like, “Okay, I gotta figure out how to code magic, cause I’m grateful for the spare bedroom, but seriously, EFF this stair-climbing shht!”

The yoga instructor whose boyfriend has been Out Of Work For Months gets upset with him and threatens to kick him out of her 3rd floor apartment completely if he Doesn’t Get A Job IMMEDIATELY, and the guy finds out that he has a talent for finding literal magical herbs, and not just “magic weed”, so he starts apprenticing with the village’s alchemist / apothecarist.

Meanwhile the yoga gal gets work at the local adventurer’s guild chapter teaching flexibility and de-stressing and balance-improving skills to passing adventurers...and accidentally activates her chakras with actual magic...which the coder notices and starts asking her to help him with his experiments in figuring out how magical coding works.  The BF gets a bit jealous, but it gets cleared up when the coder reveals he’s ace, not interested in the GF at all in That Way, and instead starts interrogating the BF about alchemical magic.

Meanwhile, the Nonna on the 7th floor has figured out knitting and crocheting magic (nobody even in this world knows how she did that), and is busy using said magic to create “power rune circles” out of her doilies.  Why?  Because she realized her cellphone charged when she placed it atop one of her doily table covers, so now she’s working her needles and hooks like mad to make her electricity run, so people start smelling Home-Baked Goods and are being driven nuts because their electricity isn’t working yet.

And then the coder and the yoga instructor and the Nonna get together and figure out how to design and knit-program a set of power generators that can convert sunlight > mana / magic > electricity...and suddenly the formerly quiet, firelight-and-candle lit village has this GLOWING TOWER next to it at night.

Oh, and the name of the apartment building?  Portal Tower (named after George Portal, the original building owner).

Everone in the village is convinced they’re a bunch of weird mages with weird special spellpowers that just...lost some of their spells for a while, but are slowly getting it back (as they get their electricity back).  And while some of the villagers are worried that these are all Secretly Evil Demonic Invader Beings...the rest are increasingly convinced these are Odd But Reasonably Good People, and sort of consider them like honorary mage-mascots, bringing them food supplies in exchange with help in repairing the mill wheel (because the building handyman is really good at mechanical structures like that), and so on and so forth.

“Yes, they glow at night and wear colors not naturally extracted from plant dyes, but you do get used to the sudden invisible minstrel performances...weird though said music may sound... And they have these interesting games, far more complex than chess or nine-man-morris.” "Yes, I quite like the stick-stacking one, Jenga or whatever it's called." "I love the magical picture plays, though I'm not sure why they keep calling that elven fellow a 'vull-can' or whatever."

isekai about a nyc apartment block getting teleported into a fantasy realm, and how this group of people who previously have only had incidental contact with one another come together to build a vibrant community in their new circumstances. there's a season-long arc about introducing bagels and pizza to the fantasy world that gets into the details of sourcing ingredients, developing new technologies, and learning how to work with supernatural substitutions.

[ishisgettingtired]

Pulling the right Jenga

There are some days when you get a thought and that thought strikes you completely. The thought meets you halfway building a bridge over an impasse that you were previously stuck at. Maybe you were stuck for a while. Maybe a lot of your blocks were built because of that. A lot of your complexes, your fears, your frustrations, were all stacked like Jenga puzzle. And you just pulled the right block and you could because that block had slid out halfway. And it feels great…

I was talking to my dad today when we were discussing about me shifting off to another city. I was telling him how it helps me. To focus, to stay happy, to lead a life that is my own, to stay calm, off drinks, off vices, and happy. I have done this before and coming back has really fucked my mental health up, I tell him. Being the parent he is, he was obviously very against it. He cant understand it, the idea of me wanting to stay solo. We were having this conversation for the nth time and as it always does, it did end up frustrating me. But towards the end of the conversation, I just said ‘Listen, i have tried to explain this to you m times earlier but I understand if you dont get it. You wont, cause your experiences have been very different from mine. And I am me. I cant help it.’ Thats the moment it it struck how powerful explicitly stating out things as you think of them can be. With that one sentence, he obviously didn’t stop but somehow I stopped defending justifying and explaining myself. I finally accepted myself, stated that he wont ever understand that side of me and gained a little more peace :)

[rioreeve]

Zach chuckled, knowing exactly where Ashton's concern was coming from. "That's all that mattered when I was looking for a puppy sitter," he admitted, glad that they didn't have to find out what would have happened if their adventure had ended differently. He looked over at Doom and the dog seemed to appreciate this invitation and Ashton's couch. Of course, he did.

Since when was he such a huge fan of pizza that even despite everything they had said about frozen pizzas, Zach still kind of craved one. He just grinned at Ash, deciding that another fistful of chips would be his consolation prize for today. "Yeah, I do. I had to fix it a few times, but it's working. I have a CD player, too, but it's being moody." One Walkman died shortly before the outbreak, but the other one was still working and Zach would do everything to keep it this way. Relying on retro devices paid off now since he couldn't live without music. It was one of those bits of normalcy that served as a glue, keeping him together. "I've got plenty of these, I'll show you. One day," he offered with a smile. He didn't want to waste the laptop's battery on something silly, but one day it would either be over, or he wouldn't care anymore. Either way, he'd show Ash a damn space game.

For some reason, he assumed that everyone found this topic extremely interesting, so as long as Ashton wouldn't tell him to shut up, Zach could be yapping about games and their origins; one of the few ways to keep the blue-haired nerd talking. He never noticed when it happened, just like he never felt awkward being quiet. This time, however, he realized that perhaps he should just pick a game and let them talk about something else, or the thing that was supposed to help them avoid awkward silence would become the cause of it. "Jenga," he replied right away, slightly amused. "No complex rules, loads of fun." He drank some of his beer before he put it away and grabbed the game, sitting cross-legged on the cushion. Carefully stacking the wooden blocks into a tower, he explained the rules and how they were supposed to remove blocks, place them on the topmost level, and simply not let the tower collapse. Once he was done, Zach took his beer back in his hand and nudged one of the blocks with the index finger of the other, swiftly removing one of the blocks from a lower level, then placed it on the top of their tower. "That's all, that's how you play it," he said with a shrug and took a swig of his beer, leaning back against the couch again. "What's with Sada?" He asked out of the blue, turning to Ash. "I know she's a witch with a 'b', but it looked too personal for me."

"Well," he wasn't expecting it to be honest but.. guess he could see it, "at least she usually has the right intentions." Whether the her actions could uphold them was anything question but Ember did continue to surprise Ashton. In the event that they didn't make it back, it seemed unlikely that Doom would be in the worst hands to be found in the building. "He's welcomed here anytime." Ash added with genuine words, giving Doom a grin and a well deserved scratch.

Ash gave him a look, hoping he was still joking, disagreeing with his sentiment, "frozen pizza would not be a good move." Ashton didn't really understand the media or gaming space so he wouldn't have any explanation other than his ignorance to the subject. A half shrug that he won't deny that anything space would significantly peak his curiosity more than apocalyptic ones. But the ones with guns and all that, Ash doubt he'd really enjoy those. Too close to what he did in real life. "A Walkman? You still have one that works? Mine probably broke way too fast and I never got another one," a punishment perhaps, he can't fully remember now, "I've never played a space game before." He was mostly surrounded by books and TV growing up, but games was never a luxury he had or even considered to want.

Shuffling over in interest to see the game Zach had brought over, he understood none of the names nor boxes he showed off. Simply blinking as he watched Zach bounce around with excitement. It must be nice being able to do what you love as a job, he hopes he has the chance to work towards that soon. If all of this is ever over. "Okay so, I have no idea what any of those games are. So show off away." He had to chuckle at the crazy amount of detail Zach had about Senet, reminded him of himself if he had the chance to talk about dark matter. It's the same spark Ashton remembered he had too and perhaps they weren't so different after all. "Why don't you pick a game? I wouldn't know what I'm picking anyways." Ashton suggested as he took a sip from his bottle of beer.