#the acting is incredible across the board

[whoslaurapalmer]

FINISHED MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE. 100% GUESSED WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN, HORRIFIED AND DELIGHTED I WAS RIGHT

[kpoplustzone]

GYM FUN - KARINA SMUT - PART 1

oc x karina

4078 words

click on the links provided for sexy images and pictures of karina along the story

Ko fi link- https://ko-fi.com/epiclude

Park Jin-ho walked into the spacious workout room, his eyes scanning the various members going through their routines. His gaze stopped abruptly when he saw Karina in a far corner, already starting her warm-up. Her movements were fluid and graceful, each stretch highlighting the incredible shape of her body. Jin-ho could only gulp, his eyes fixed on her. The idol, well-known for her generous curves, was wearing a tight-fitting athletic top, and as she raised her arms and leaned to the side, the fabric stretched across her prominent chest, giving Jin-ho a very clear and rather breathtaking view of her ample breasts. He couldn't help but stare for a moment, completely captivated by her physique.

Karina's body was truly a sight to behold, even in the simple gym attire. Her athletic top clung to her torso, accentuating her narrow waist, which flared out to naturally wide hips, creating that classic, coveted "S-line" figure that South Korean men often raved about. It was no secret that she was considered one of the most beautiful idols, her visuals often described as almost unreal, like something straight out of a fantasy. But it was her chest that often drew the most attention. Her breasts were undeniably full and perfectly shaped, a focal point that many South Korean men openly admired and fantasized about. The way they moved subtly with each stretch, the gentle bounce as she shifted her weight, it was a mesmerizing sight. It wasn't just the size; there was a certain natural grace to her physique that made her movements captivating. For many men in South Korea, Karina represented the ideal of feminine beauty and sex appeal, a goddess-like figure whose every appearance sparked intense admiration and a flood of online commentary about her "divine" proportions. Jin-ho, watching her with his heart pounding a little faster than usual, certainly understood the hype

Jin-ho took one last, subtly appreciative glance at Karina’s incredible form before composing himself and walking over to where she was stretching. She was wearing sleek black leggings that hugged her legs perfectly, showcasing her toned thighs and calves. Her athletic top was a stylish charcoal grey, fitted but breathable, with thin straps that highlighted her shoulders. It was clear she took her workouts seriously.

As he approached, a professional smile gracing his lips, he said in Korean, "Annyeonghaseyo, Karina-ssi. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Jin-ho, your trainer for today." He extended a hand towards her. "We have an hour together, as you mentioned, so let's make the most of it. How are you feeling today, and is there anything specific you'd like to focus on?" He kept his tone friendly but strictly professional, his gaze focused on her eyes, though he couldn't help but notice the slight sheen of sweat on her brow and the way her chest rose and fell with each breath. He was determined to keep his admiration for her stunning looks separate from his role as her trainer.

"Alright, planks first. Just keep your body straight like a board," Jin-ho said, showing her what to do. Karina got down on her arms, her butt sticking up just a little bit in the air at first, then she straightened out. Her tight gym pants showed off every curve of her bottom, and Jin-ho had to stop himself from staring too hard.

As she held the plank, her body shaking a little, she sighed in a way that sounded like she was enjoying it. "Your arms look so strong," she said, looking up at him with a sly smile. "You must be able to hold on for a long time." Jin-ho felt his face get a little hot but tried to act cool. "It comes with the job. Just like your amazing body comes with yours."

Then, while she was holding the plank, she started to wiggle her hips a tiny bit from side to side. It was a small move, but Jin-ho definitely noticed. It was like she was saying, 'Look at this, do you like it?' Her chest was pressed against her top, and he could see the outline of her nipples pushing against the fabric. He had to look away for a second.

Karina held the plank, her body firm and toned, but a playful glint in her eyes suggested her mind wasn't solely on her core strength. She subtly arched her back downwards for a fleeting moment, causing her chest to press even harder against the thin material of her top, the shape of her nipples becoming even more defined. She then returned to the strict plank form, as if testing Jin-ho to see if he had noticed the brief, deliberate flash.

"Is this… making you sweat, Jin-ho ssi?" she asked, her voice laced with a teasing sweetness as she glanced over at him, a small smirk playing on her lips. The question was clearly double-edged, referring both to the physical exertion and the obvious effect she was having on him. She then slowly lowered herself to her knees, stretching her arms out in front of her in a child's pose, offering Jin-ho an unobstructed view of her perfectly rounded backside in the tight leggings. As she held the pose, she subtly flexed her glutes, the smooth fabric stretching and clinging to every curve. Jin-ho found himself having to look away, his professional composure teetering on the edge. His heart was definitely pounding now, and he could feel a warmth spreading through his lower body.

Jin-ho’s mind was racing. He could feel the heat radiating from Karina, not just from her workout, but from a palpable sexual energy that was now thick in the air between them. It was undeniable – the sly glances, the suggestive comments, the subtle body language. Karina wasn't just teasing; she was clearly horny and looking for an outlet. And out of everyone in the gym, she was directing that energy squarely at him. A surge of adrenaline and desire shot through him. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, an incredibly hot idol practically throwing herself at him. He decided then and there that he wasn't going to let this moment pass. He was going to give her exactly what she wanted.

Jin-ho took a step closer, his gaze locking onto Karina's. The professional mask had completely slipped, replaced by a raw hunger that mirrored her own. "You're right, Karina-ssi," he said, his voice low and husky, "this doesn't have to be just a workout." His eyes flickered down to her chest, lingering for a moment before returning to hers, a silent question hanging in the air. He saw the answering spark in her eyes, a clear invitation. Without another word, he reached out, his hand gently tracing the curve of her neck before sliding down to rest on the swell of her breast, his thumb lightly brushing over the fabric, feeling the hard peak beneath. "You want this, don't you?" he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Karina’s smile widened, a look of pure, unadulterated desire washing over her beautiful face. She moved towards Jin-ho, who had indeed settled onto the padded floor, his legs spread slightly, the unmistakable bulge of his erection clearly visible through his gym shorts. Kneeling in front of him, her eyes never leaving his, she slowly reached out a hand. Her fingers, delicate yet firm, gently traced the outline of his hard-on through the fabric, her touch sending a visible shiver through Jin-ho’s body. She started at the base, her fingertips lightly skimming the sensitive area just above his groin, and then slowly moved upwards along the length of his thick cock, teasing him with feather-light strokes. When she reached the tip, she circled it gently, her touch promising more to come. Jin-ho watched her, his breath catching in his throat, utterly captivated by her bold and sensual initiation.

From his seated position, Jin-ho had a breathtaking view of Karina. Her beautiful face, usually framed by perfect makeup and elaborate hairstyles for performances, now had a natural, slightly flushed glow. Her eyes, wide and filled with a playful desire, were locked on his, a confident smile gracing her full lips. The angle gave him a perfect view down the front of her athletic top, the fabric stretched tight across her generous breasts, the outline of her nipples clearly visible. Her arms were slightly outstretched as she traced his erection, pulling the material of her top taut across her chest, further emphasizing her impressive cleavage. Behind her, her back arched slightly, presenting her round, firm buttocks, the tight black leggings clinging to every curve and crevice. Her thighs looked thick and powerful, hinting at the strength she possessed beneath her seemingly delicate exterior. It was a view that confirmed every fantasy he'd ever had about the stunning idol, amplified by the intimate and undeniably seductive way she was now touching him. Slowly, Karina reached down and pulled Jin-ho's hard cock out of his gym shorts. It popped out, looking thick and long in the air. Her eyes opened a little wider as she looked at it, like she was surprised by how big it was. She reached out with both hands, her fingers gently wrapping around its length. She started to stroke it slowly, just feeling the weight and hardness of it in her hands She started to move her hands up and down more quickly now, really getting a feel for his hardness. Her eyes flicked up to meet Jin-ho’s, a playful, teasing smile on her face. Then, she leaned forward slightly and slowly licked the tip of his cock with her tongue. Jin-ho gasped, his body tensing. Karina kept her eyes on him as she took more of him into her mouth, her lips closing around the head. She sucked gently at first, then with more enthusiasm, her hand still stroking the length of his shaft. From Jin-ho’s perspective, having the incredibly gorgeous Karina from Aespa’s lips wrapped around his cock was an experience beyond his wildest fantasies. He looked down at her kneeling in front of him, her dark hair falling around his lap as she expertly licked and sucked him. Her eyes were focused, intent on pleasuring him, and the sight of such a famous and desirable idol giving him this kind of attention was unbelievably arousing.

A wave of pure, unadulterated lust washed over him. He couldn't believe his luck. Karina, a goddess in the eyes of millions, was treating his cock like it was the most precious thing in the world. The warmth of her mouth, the gentle tugging sensation, the occasional flick of her tongue – it was driving him absolutely crazy. He thought about all the guys in South Korea who would give anything for just a moment with her, let alone this kind of intimacy. He felt a surge of pride mixed with a heady sense of power. He was the lucky one, the one she had chosen, at least for this moment, to give him exactly what he craved. His hands instinctively reached down, wanting to touch her hair, to feel her closer as she continued her passionate assault on his senses. A surge of boldness coursed through Jin-ho. Emboldened by Karina's eager mouth, he reached down and gently but firmly placed his hands on either side of her beautiful face. Her skin was smooth and soft under his touch. Without breaking eye contact for a moment, he guided her head downwards, pressing her closer until his thick cock was fully engulfed by her warm, wet mouth. He could feel her gag slightly as she took him completely, the sensation sending a jolt of pure pleasure through him. He tightened his grip on her face, holding her there as she enthusiastically sucked him, the feeling of her deep throating him almost unbearable in its intensity. This was way beyond anything he could have imagined.

Jin-ho eased his grip on Karina’s face, allowing her to pull back. She immediately started to cough, a slight gag reflex kicking in from taking him so deep. Her cheeks were flushed a vibrant red, and her eyes watered slightly. Jin-ho looked down at his thick cock, and it was indeed covered in her glistening saliva, a wet testament to her enthusiastic oral skills. He watched her take a few deep breaths, her hand reaching up to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. There was a look of slight embarrassment mixed with amusement on her face.

Her eyes went right back to his hard cock, but then she looked down at his balls. They were just hanging there, waiting. She leaned down again and opened her mouth wide enough to take them both in. They felt warm and soft in her mouth. She used her tongue to gently lick all around them, making sure she didn't miss any spot. She'd suck on them softly, then lick them again, really giving them her attention. Jin-ho made a low noise in his throat, like he really liked what she was doing. He watched her, his eyes half-closed, as she gave his balls the same kind of special treatment she gave his cock. It felt really good.

From Jin-ho’s angle, Karina’s exquisite, small face was a vision of pure, unadulterated lust. Her dark hair framed her delicate features as her mouth moved so intimately on his balls. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his skin as she licked and sucked, and the occasional flick of her tongue sent shivers down his spine. His hard cock rested against her cheek, a wet and throbbing presence against her soft skin, as if even it was anticipating the next wave of her attention.

He truly felt like he was dreaming. Karina from Aespa, one of the biggest idols in the world, was kneeling in front of him, giving him the kind of pleasure most men could only fantasize about. He had seen her on stage, her powerful presence captivating millions. He had seen her flawless photoshoots, her beauty almost otherworldly. But this… this was raw, intimate, and incredibly real. He was speechless, his mind struggling to catch up with the reality of the situation. What could he possibly say? Every thought seemed to dissolve into the overwhelming sensations flooding his body. All he could do was watch her, mesmerized, as she continued her passionate assault, a silent testament to a moment he knew he would never forget.

Karina pulled her mouth away from Jin-ho’s slick cock and balls, her lips glistening with his saliva. She looked up at him, a playful smirk dancing on her face. "So, Jin-ho ssi," she purred, her voice a little hoarse from her efforts, "what are you in the mood for now?"

Jin-ho's gaze was immediately drawn to her chest. Her athletic top, now slightly damp, clung to her ample breasts, the shape of her nipples clearly defined beneath the fabric. He couldn't help but stare, completely captivated by their fullness.

Karina followed his gaze and a knowing smile spread across her face. With a slow, deliberate movement, she reached down and lifted the hem of her top, pulling it up just enough to expose the lower curves of her magnificent breasts. She held the fabric there, offering him a teasing glimpse of the pale skin underneath,

Karina held the hem of her top just high enough to reveal the plump undersides of her breasts, the shadow of her areola just visible, but not the full glory. "You like what you see, Jin-ho ssi?" she purred, her voice a husky whisper. "These were made for worship, you know. They get very sensitive… especially when they're teased just right." She lowered the hem a fraction, then lifted it again, giving him tantalizing glimpses. "Imagine how soft they feel in your hands. How good it would feel to have your mouth on them, sucking gently… or maybe a little rougher, if you prefer." She leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Tell me, Jin-ho ssi, which way would you worship them best?"

Slowly, deliberately, Karina took a step closer to Jin-ho, still kneeling with his hard cock pointing straight ahead. The lower half of her luscious breasts, still partially hidden by her lifted top, came closer and closer to his erection. Then, with a soft sigh and a playful smile, she leaned forward just a little, gently brushing the underside of one plump breast against the hard ridge of his penis. The soft give of her flesh against his rigid member sent a jolt of pure electricity through Jin-ho. Karina repeated the motion, this time with the other breast, teasing him with the incredibly soft and sensitive underside. It was a torturous dance of near-contact, her not fully showing him her breasts making the tease even more intense, the slight friction of her skin against his cock promising a pleasure that was just out of reach.

With a playful giggle, Karina widened the small gap between her breasts and, with a slow, deliberate motion, guided Jin-ho’s thick, long, hard cock right into the warm, soft crevice. The sensation for Jin-ho was instantly overwhelming. The feeling of her soft, full breasts enveloping his erection was like being cradled in the most sensual pillow imaginable. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, and the subtle pressure of her cleavage against his shaft was incredibly arousing. It was an intimate and daring move, trapping his cock in her personal warmth, and Jin-ho felt a rush of pure, unadulterated lust mixed with a thrill of disbelief at Karina's boldness. His breath caught in his throat, and he could do nothing but watch her face, his body completely captivated by the incredible sensation of being nestled between Aespa Karina's glorious breasts.

Even though he couldn't really see her boobs, the feeling of his hard cock sliding in and out between them felt amazing. Every time he pushed in a little, the tip of his dick would just about touch her lips. He watched her face as this happened. Her mouth would open a tiny bit, and she'd look right at him with this playful look. It was like she was teasing him. The feeling of her soft boobs squeezing his cock was driving him crazy, and the thought of his tip almost touching her lips with every push was so hot. He let out a soft groan, completely lost in the feeling of her body on his.

The way Karina’s thick, soft breasts cradled his hard cock was unlike anything Jin-ho had ever experienced. They weren't just resting against him; they seemed to mold around his shaft, the warm, full weight pressing in from both sides. With each subtle thrust, he could feel the silky smooth skin of her cleavage rubbing against him, a sensation that was both incredibly soft and intensely stimulating. Sometimes, as he pushed in deeper, his cock would slide up and nudge against the underside of her nipple, sending a jolt of pure electricity through him. He imagined how perfectly his head would fit right there, between those magnificent mounds of flesh. The feeling was so intimate, so incredibly carnal, that Jin-ho could barely keep himself from moaning out loud. Her thick body, pressed so close against his, only amplified the sensation, making every inch of contact feel charged with raw desire. He was completely lost in the moment, the playful tease having morphed into something deeply sensual and undeniably erotic.

Karina’s eyes dropped to where Jin-ho’s thick cock was nestled between her breasts, and she noticed the tell-tale sheen of precum glistening on its head. A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. Without breaking contact with his gaze, she lowered her head slightly and parted her lips. Jin-ho watched, his breath catching in his throat, as her tongue darted out and traced a wet line along the underside of his glans. The sensation was electric, especially with the soft pressure of her breasts still surrounding him. Encouraged by his involuntary groan, she leaned in further, taking the very tip of his cock into her mouth, her warm lips closing around it gently at first, then with a more insistent suck. The contrast of the cool air on the rest of his shaft and the intense heat and moisture of her mouth was driving him wild. He could feel her hands gently squeezing his sides as she continued her teasing oral attention, all while his cock remained nestled in her cleavage

Karina’s sucking grew more insistent, her lips creating a firm seal around the head of Jin-ho's cock. She’d pull back slightly, just enough to expose the glistening tip, then plunge forward again, her tongue flicking across the sensitive underside. Jin-ho could feel his hips starting to twitch involuntarily, his hands gripping her sides tighter. The warmth of her breath, combined with the soft pressure of her breasts surrounding him, was sending waves of pure lust through his body. He closed his eyes, completely lost in the sensations. He could hear her soft moans of pleasure mingling with his own ragged breathing. This unexpected encounter was escalating rapidly, and he could feel himself inching closer to the edge.

Jin-ho’s body tensed, his thrusts becoming more forceful, his grip on Karina’s sides tightening. He could feel the unmistakable pulsing sensation building deep within him. With a final, shuddering groan, he unleashed a huge load of hot, thick cum into Karina’s mouth. Her cheeks puffed out as she took it all, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. Jin-ho held her close, his body still trembling from the release. When the last drops had been expelled, Karina slowly pulled back, her lips glistening with his semen. Without hesitation, she tilted her head back and swallowed every last bit, her throat moving visibly as she did so. She then looked up at him, a satisfied smile gracing her lips. "Delicious," she whispered, her voice thick with his ejaculate.

Jin-ho’s mind was still reeling. He could barely process what had just happened. Karina, Aespa’s Karina – a woman idolized by millions, someone he never thought he’d even be in the same room with, let alone this intimate – had just swallowed his cum as if it were the most delectable thing in the world. He watched, utterly stunned, as she used her fingers to gently wipe the remaining drops from the tip of his still-erect cock, bringing her fingers to her lips and sucking them clean. Her eyes met his, and the satisfied, almost sensual look on her face was more arousing than he could have imagined. He was speechless, his initial surprise quickly turning into a potent mix of disbelief and utter gratification

Seeing his cock, which had gone soft after his release, begin to swell again between her breasts, Karina looked genuinely surprised. Her eyebrows arched slightly, and her eyes widened as she felt the growing hardness pressing against her skin. A soft gasp escaped her lips, and she looked down at his hardening member with a mixture of amusement and renewed desire. "Looks like someone enjoyed that," she purred, her voice laced with a playful tease. She reached down and gently caressed the growing bulge through her top, a knowing smile spreading across her face.

His cock was indeed still nestled warmly between her breasts, held captive by the fabric of her tank top. She reached down and gently squeezed the bulge, a playful smile gracing her lips. "Well then, Jin-ho ssi, it seems you have a head start. But don't think that makes things any easier for you. I still expect you to keep me entertained until I've had my fill." She leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear. "And trust me," she whispered, her voice a low purr, "I have a very big appetite." And that brings us to the end of Part 1 of this steamy encounter between Aespa's Karina and her lucky personal trainer, Jin-ho! Jin-ho’s cock is still nestled snugly between Karina’s glorious breasts, and she’s just made it clear that this workout is far from over.

What will happen in Part 2? Will Karina finally give Jin-ho a full view of her famous assets? Will she slide his hard cock out from between her breasts and take their intimate play to the next level? You'll have to wait and see what unfolds when we continue their intensely erotic gym session! Stay tuned!

[mahowaga]

your phone buzzes in your hands as you scroll mindlessly. you glance at the message preview for a second—just a message from a group chat, one of many—and go back to scrolling.

and that's when it happens.

out of nowhere, like some kind of smug white-haired hawk, gojo satoru swoops in and snatches your phone from your hands with a victorious, "aha!"

"satoru!" you shout, scrambling after him immediately.

but he's already halfway across the living room, standing triumphantly on the other side of the coffee table like he's just stolen the declaration of independence.

his grin is positively feral. "let's see what secrets you're hiding from me, hmm?"

you stare at him, completely unamused. "what are you, twelve?"

"emotionally? maybe," he chirps, flipping the phone around dramatically in his hands. "now then, what spicy stuff do we have in here? hidden chats? secret admirers? is your wallpaper still me wearing sunglasses over my blindfold?"

you cross your arms. "give. it. back."

he holds the phone up like it's an olympic torch. "nope. not until i confirm you're not part of some underground spy ring."

"i literally let you eat off my plate. why would i hide anything from you?"

"suspiciously defensive," he says, squinting at the screen and pretending to scroll even though he hasn't unlocked it yet. "what's your passcode again? your birthday? my birthday? the number of times i've been right in an argument?"

you glare. "try zero."

"ouch," he grins. "cold. but fair."

you plop onto the couch, arms still crossed. "are you done?"

"nope," he says cheerfully. "i'm fully committed to this investigation. as your incredibly handsome and slightly unhinged boyfriend, it is my duty to discover the truth."

"the truth is i'm dating a pest in gucci sunglasses."

he gasps, hand clutching his chest. "you take that back!"

"only if you give me my phone."

he considers this with an exaggerated hum, pacing back and forth like he's on the verge of solving a great mystery. "you know if you were hiding something, this is exactly how you'd act."

you throw a pillow at him. he dodges effortlessly. "i'm annoyed, not guilty!"

he finally stops pacing and stares at the screen. "wait. your passcode is literally my birthday?"

you groan and throw your hands in the air. "congratulations, detective gojo, you cracked the case."

he beams. "aww, you like me."

"i tolerate you."

he unlocked the phone with a smug flourish, only for his expression to immediately drop. "wait—there's nothing in here."

"wow," you deadpan. "shocking."

he stares at the screen, then looks at you. "your most recent text is you asking your friend if it's okay to put ten cloves of garlic in pasta."

"there is no such thing as too much garlic."

"i'm actually really disappointed in you. where's the scandal? where's the mystery man? the forbidden double life?"

you sigh and hold your hand out. "give me the phone, satoru."

he walks over slowly, dejected. "you're boring," he says, placing the phone back in your palm. "adorably, tragically boring."

"and you," you say, locking your phone again, "are never touching my phone again."

"oh, come on," he pouts, collapsing onto the couch beside you. "just one juicy secret? just one? i'll settle for a weird shopping history. you don't even have a secret pinterest board of wedding dresses."

you narrow your eyes at him. "that's because you already do."

"hey," he says defensively, "a man can dream!"

you shove him with your shoulder and he immediately drapes himself over you like a weighted blanket with chaotic energy.

"next time," you mutter, "i'm locking it with your middle name. good luck remembering which fake one you gave me."

satoru's laugh is muffled against your shoulder. and despite everything, you can't help but smile.

because satoru, with all his pranks and dramatics, still ends up exactly where he always does—right next to you, grinning like an idiot, with no secrets between you.

just you, him, and the comforting knowledge that the most scandalous thing in your phone is a saved photo of him sleeping with a mouthful of marshmallows.

[awordsmith]

french perfume 𝜗𝜚 r. spencer

when the ASIO–calls the FBI for reinforcements, y𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗦𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗿 are chosen to go undercover as boarding school students to figure out why prestigious teenagers are mysteriously disappearing.

you only have each other on the inside, but interacting means the possibility of getting caught, and getting caught would blow the entire operation.

who? spencer reid x bau!reader when? s10 genre: angst (thriller) content warning: heavy mentions of mass SA on teenagers-disappearing teenagers-Spencer identity crisis-sa(not too graphic) on reader, very much dark academia-gloomy castle aesthetic. . .reid with incredible care !! word count: 18.8k a/n: boarding school by lana del rey is all i have to say for this one... enjoy!!

The uniform fit just right…as if it had been altered to fit your particular body. Per further inspection, you noticed the gray blazer’s sleeves hitting your wrists just above your palms and the gray pleated skirt hitting the middle of your knees, you were inclined to believe this detail confidently.

Your frown held still, a blank expression registered to everyone around you that you were not the everyday school girl, though in America, uniforms always seemed to differentiate the poor from the wealthy, so perhaps it was that as well as the two men behind you, dressed in all black with earpieces slightly evident in their ear.

Earbuds in your ear connected to an iPod, playing one of your favorite albums. Though it was just for show, it was all for show. You were undercover and your name was no longer — —, but — —. 

You’d been training your acting skills, away from the rest of the team. You needed to be her. This character that you’d made up the day you had gotten the case. You weren’t just playing the American Rich Girl, you were the American Rich Girl. You had to be or else everything everyone had been working for up until this point went to shit.

You ignored the man in brown and the woman in bright green. They were no one, the moment you stepped into the mini limousine outside your home in Atherton, they’d been lost to your memory.

Your black Mary Janes clicked past the line of people riding coach and business. You focussed on the silver iPod in your hand, heading toward first class. Four others were riding with you, you disregarded their presence as well. The bodyguards in black stayed behind, saying something into their earpieces. It caught the attention of the other first-class riders, one woman approached you. It’d be great for your first real interaction as her.

There were no cameras on board, so as you settled into one of the middle-row seats, you plucked an earbud out and settled your small backpack on the cushion, “sorry, could you repeat that one more time?” Your voice took on an airy tone, it didn’t sound foreign–you wondered–no. You forced that thought down and after the woman asked, “Where are you flying to?” you’d forgotten all about it.

“Australia,” you smiled, taking out the other earbud and wrapping the wiring around the iPod.

“For school?” She took her seat across from you.

“Boarding school,” you frowned, “Father says it’s better than anything in America.” Your eyes rolled as you settled into your own space.

“That’s a cute uniform.” You nodded to agree, “And your father is probably right, what school?”

Right. “That’s private information,” you reassessed her with a raised brow.

Her lips pressed together in a thin line, then she nodded. You had to hide the small smile the slid across your face. She was probably wondering who you were to be thinking of yourself so highly. You would be lying if you’d said you didn’t get a kick out of making heads turn in such a way.

Two more bodyguards were waiting for you when you landed and a limousine–normal length this time–waiting for you outside the airport. When you stepped inside you were finally able to breathe. The windows were tinted, though you hadn’t begun moving. 

“— —, I presume?” The blonde man dressed in a neatly pressed suit did not match the surfer accent he had.

“Depends on who you ask, I suppose.” A sly grin stretched across your mouth and you brushed a lock of hair behind your pierced ear, showing off the white pearls.

He chuckled, “You know who I am, then?”

“The Head of the ASIO?” You raised a brow, noting the largeness of the vehicle.

“Spot on,” he winked, “the uniform fits better than expected.” He motioned with a hand.

“So I’ve been told,” you tugged on the sleeves and feeling a bit childish, sat further upward to show your maturity, he noticed, but neglected to comment. “And my counterpart, do you think his fits just as well?”

“Ah, yes,” he glanced at the ceiling, “your partner in this investigation, he should have gotten off his flight from Russia right about now, he’ll be on his way to the school just as sufficiently.” 

The agent checked his watch, a more serious expression taking over his features right before he pounded on the window separating the front from the back–and like that, the limousine began moving.

“You know your objective, I assume, but I’d like to go over it with you.” He crossed a leg over the other, his pants riding up his ankle, showing the cutoff of his finely polished shoes.

“We go in, collect evidence, and get out.”

“Without busting your cover.” He stated, leaning forward slightly, “Now…what about the other thing?”

“You mean the objective only I was assigned?”

“Precisely. It’d be,” he shook slightly, “discouraging if anyone else got wind out it–from my knowledge only you, I, and your boss know the details.”

You nodded, refining your face toward a colder version of what it once was, “I know exactly what I’m doing and I have given my full consent.”

“Do you remember his name?” The agent raised a blonde brow, his blue eyes piercing your gaze to the point of making you shift uncomfortably.

“I do.”

“Good,” he leaned back, pulling out a bottle of wine, “do you prefer white?”

“Red is fine,” you took the glass willingly, you wouldn’t have access for God knew how long. One last glass wouldn’t hurt.

The car came to a stop, “We’re here,” he sighed and glanced toward the large gate to outside the window closest him. You handed back your glass and reached for the door, but one of his hands shot out and stopped you, “remember we will not be with you on the inside. The only person you have is…him–and even then–”

“I know,” you waved your arm in font of yoru face after snatching it out of his, feeling your gaze harden–you could do this. “This isn’t about proving myself, Director. Trust me, I know what’s at stake.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, he looked pitiful. He couldn’t have been older than 40, barely a 12-year age gap, but you could tell he was worried if this was the right thing. The ASIO has been trying to crack down on this school for over a year–just one slip-up would send the entire operation overboard.

“The Australian government wants our help,” your eyebrows furrowed, “ why?” You were spinning in your chair before Penelope’s hands were firmly planted on either side of your shoulders, forcing the chair to come to a halt.

“Oh sweetie, you’re gonna want a coffee for this one.”

The Head of the ASIO helped you with your luggage, he was tall for an Australian, which was tall. He also looked pretty well for his age, you noted the slight red spot that circled high around his ring finger, though the ring in question was missing. He didn’t look the part of a recently divorced husband, so perhaps he took it off when he was on the job. He was smart.

“This is where I see you off,” he leaned against the car, hands tucked neatly into his pants pockets.

You pulled your suitcase toward you, finding it a struggle with the duffle bag on top. You pressed your lips together, saluting him–chills. The hair on your neck standing up. Someone was watching you. Your hand gripped the handle of the suitcase, trying your best to not look for the eyes that were surely on you.

“Good luck,” he said, opening the door the the limousine and slipping inside. It took off not long after, leaving you to spin around.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw a short, sallow man, his back bent in ways you didn’t think possible to mimic–and his skin pale–un-ordinarily pale for someone who looked once very tan. “You’re one of the new students, yes?” He had a croaky accent, maybe Old Romanian?

You shook your head, if ever there was a time you needed to focus this was it. “Yes, my name is — —.”

He sighed and averted his eyes, “…follow me.”

You rounded the corner of the gate, and the old man pulled a jangle of keys from around his belt that you only now noticed. “I’m the grounds keeper here, if you ever need anything, I’d advise not coming to me for it…I wouldn’t be able to do much.”

You swallowed, it was only now just hitting you–you were walking into a graveyard dressed up like a school, and you were doing it willingly.

The place looked like it had jumped out of a Renaissance painting, the muted-colored murals on the higher walls and ceilings were chipping and the dull white pillars you saw around almost every corner looked to be falling apart–but past that, you felt like Alice walking through the rabbit hole. “There is one more student supposed to be arriving today. Usually, we never get two new students on the same day–so excuse the abruptness. You’ll have to wait for him in the Headmaster’s Office.”

You kept quiet, unsure if you should respond. In the end, you didn’t, and the maintenance man, whose name you never received, left you in a small room with four chairs, a small, squared table in the middle of each chair, and two chairs sitting against each wall, facing each other.

There was no receptionist at the desk, the entire building seemed vacant. It was a Thursday. Weren’t there supposed to be classes? You folded in on yourself, the curvy, white concrete walls pulled you into a momentary depression. Your anxiety grew and as the minutes ticked by, you felt like you would die here, in this cold, concrete room–alone.

“Sorry, did I startle you?” Came a voice moments after you’d heard the creaking of a door. 

Familiar notes had your ears twitching, your hands moved from your lap to your knees as you slowly lifted your gaze to meet his. The accent he’d been perfecting sounded like he’d always spoken that way. You ignored the way it sent a shiver down your spine. “Not at all,” you smiled and stood, dusting nonexistent dust off your newly pressed skirt. “You must be the other student, I’m — —,” you held out a hand, batting your eyelashes.

He was cute–the way his brown curls pulled attention to his big, puppy eyes. His hair looked recently cut, and though it gave him a somewhat boyish charm, the guy in front of you remained too serious for your liking.

He glanced at your hand briefly, ignoring it. Your eyes rolled and you planted a hand on your hip, “not the physical type, I suppose.”

“I apologize,” his voice was deep, it’d rear you into a wall if you weren’t careful. 

You blinked, and took a second to breathe, “It’s alright, I suppose.”

“Have you seen anyone yet?”

You shrugged, “Just the grounds keeper, everyone must be in class.”

He nodded, pulling his luggage toward the side opposite of you, and took up the chair in front of yours. You huffed and sat back down. “You’re Russian?” The boy nodded, it irked you slightly, perhaps his social skills were not all there? “What’s your name?”

“Savino,” he murmured, raising a brow at you, “you’re American.” It was more of an observation than a question and it made your lips thin.

“Ah!” You startled, holding in your scream. Savino smiled slightly, which had you narrowing your eyes. A door creaked open–not the entrance, but one behind the receptionist's desk–and a young-old man filed into the room–if such a crossover were ever possible, it was in front of you.

He was different from the one you’d met at the gate, this one was tall, and a bit on the heavier side. “There you are, my beloved new students.” He held his hands out, you recoiled–as if you’d hug him willingly. He just looked like he smelled horridly.

“I suppose I should show you to your dorms first.” He lips pulled back in what you suppose was meant to be a smile. Yellow, cracked teeth could be noted and somehow, you found yourself wondering just how atrocious his breath must be. 

Your eyes ran over the walls that seemed to twist throughout the school, doing your best to listen to Headmaster Bobefitz as he rambled on about the history of the school. 

Originally it was a castle built for a small king centuries ago–about 40 years prior, the land was bought and turned into a private transnational boarding school, as it was secluded high up in the mountains and had multiple rooms, it seemed the ideal use. Up until the number of students disappearing began raising suspicion with the local police, that is. 

Though, it was private property, and nothing much could be done without a warrant or great cause–and even then, the owners could challenge the police in court. This wasn’t America–yoou had to remember that.

You blinked, almost bumping into the back of Headmaster Bobefitz. He gave you an unnerving smile, “Watch it little mouse, you just might go stumbling into the wrong trap.”

You smiled, though it was awkward, and took a few more steps toward Savino. He noticed and tried to put himself between you and the headmaster, subtly, to be sure.

“This is the East Wing, where male students sleep, female students are not allowed on this side after 18:00 and the same goes for male students in the West Wing, where the female students reside. We will head there next.”

“Will I have a roommate?”

“Did your father not give you the details, Miss —?” He chuckled, and stretched across Savino to pat you on the shoulder, “That’s alright.” You shifted uncomfortably but didn’t move away. This must be a cakewalk to whatever else was going on inside this school.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Savino stepped in front of you, stealing the Headmaster’s attention away, “where are the other students, it seems rather quiet for a school around this time.”

“Yes, well, we have more of a handle on the students here at Gentry Prep–we take the education we give our students very seriously, so to answer your question, your classmates are in class,” he lifted his wrist to his eyes, showing off a brown leather strapped watch. “They are in their second hour now.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you teetered on your heels, looking over the ledge of the hall.

Headmaster Bobefitz laughed, “Be careful now, you don’t want to go toppling over.” His jokes left a wretched taste in your mouth, but you managed a half-laugh.

“Where are they, then?”  You eyed the still empty halls.

“At our school, students have one class assigned to them based on how well they did on their entry exam, you two are in the same class.” He eyed Savino with a slight frown, but smiled when his gaze met yours once more.

“I see…”

You did not join the rest of the students that day but rather walked around the premises with the headmaster as your guide. Savino kept his distance from you. As if he was afraid of getting close, though when the headmaster evidently had you feeling uneasy, Savino always said something to deter his attention, and you took that as his way of showing he cared.

It was odd, pretending you were strangers. You had to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as well–you had to remember this was a job, and you were an agent undercover–at the same time, youhad to maintain the Rich Girl facade. It hurt you brain every time those thoughts collided, a sickness overtook you and only a part of you had an inkling of an idea of why that was.

You met your roommate, Cairo. She was a petite and her hair was black on the verge of looking blue if it were any darker. The dorm held two beds pushed against opposite walls, Cairo slept on the right, so you ended up with the left.

Very soon on, you found she was deaf, and you–unable to speak sign language, suggested using paper.

𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙘𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨

You passed the open notebook toward Cairo. Her lips pressed into a thin line as her eyes passed over the two words. She looked up, her black eyes containing a weird sort of glow thanks to the lamps that dimly lit up the room. 

Cairo scribbled something with the number two pencil she’d taken out of her pencil pouch. 

Your eyes tracked over the room, locking on the dresser that had been given to you. Cairo had her own, closer to her bed across the lofty area. Each bed had white concrete railings at each corner, holding up a canopy. Cairo’s curtains were sage green, yours were blue, just a shade away from gray.

𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵

read the line under your own handwriting.

Your head tilted and you frowned, “why not?–Oh, sorry,” you nearly smacked yourself before writing your words down and handing it back to her.

She audibly sighed and shook her head, taking the pencil from you. 

𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦, ����𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘥

noting that you understood her message, Cairo took back the notebook and ripped the page out, walking toward the fireplace. Your eyebrows raised watching her drop the paper into the flames. Her body language seemed too relaxed for a teenage girl tossing papers into fires.

She grabbed a poker and moved the wood away, soon, the fire died out and all that was left were the lamps at your bedside tables. Though, with one final glance toward you, Cairo too, shut off her lamp. You could hear her rustling in the sheets, and ultimately, you flicked the last source of light off and submerged yourself under the sheets.

As your head hit the back of the one of pillows, you let your thoughts drift. He came to mind. He was so good at acting, it unnerved you. You wondered how detrimental this case would be after it was over.

During the day, you did not claim the name you grew up with, but rather the one that had been given to you four weeks ago. And at night, you weren’t sure what you claimed. Though, when you were secure in the confines of warmth and surrounded by nothing but darkness, you though perhaps you could let her out–just for a moment.

You were already starting to lose your grip on reality, moments when you allowed yourself to come back were the only thing saving you. You turned on your side, your eyes shutting hesitantly. Despite the day's events, you did not feel at all tired. You hadn't met any other students, though you’d seen a few girls milling about the West Wing. You hadn’t known what you were expecting, nor how well it matched with what you had seen.

They looked happy, for the most part, quiet to be sure, but a collective calm had settled over them and they had looked content. Other than the headmaster being a massive creep, you hadn’t seen anything noteworthy. 

…that old guy, the maintenance worker, what was his name again? You couldn’t recall, had you gotten his name? It seemed rather important, but–a yawn escaped you and you nuzzled into the pillow, tugging the blankets tighter around you–that could wait until tomorrow.

The hall was gloomy as you Cairo led you toward your class. Bolted, you thought, glancing at the windows that popped up now and then, perhaps to keep the cold out? Cairo stopped and spun around, motioning toward the door with a few students piling in.

You jabbed a thumb at yourself; she nodded, smiled, and waved, heading toward her class. You knew everything the ASIO had gathered within their months of investigation, they had gathered–probably by illegal means–that the school had a hierarchy. Regardless of what year you were in, you were sorted into a class. Class 1A, 1B, 1C, and 1D for first years. The number altered depending on your year and the letter altered depending on how well you did on the entrance exam. A being the highest ranking.

You noted the swirled print on the plaque attached to the wall near the large lumber door and hid a smirk,  wondering if he was already inside.

The room smelled of old things. Old books, old parchment, old walls, old everything. A few heads turned up when you walked in, but most ignored your presence. No one looked you in the eye, you stuck your hands into the pockets of your blazer, wondering if they could somehow sense you were different.

There was something wrong with the people here, they all acted strangely, Cairo was friendly, but you could tell she was keeping something from you–there wasn’t a need to say–or write–it, you knew just by watching her. Other than that, there was that weirdo headmaster–he’d been a little too touchy, your heart sank…was he? No, someone would’ve–but that’s not–

You fisted your hands, trying to freeze and clear your thoughts, if they were jumping at you all at once, you wouldn’t be able to make any sense of them a single one. An empty seat in the back caught your eye, and as you filed the assumptions creeping in into the cabinet at the back of your head, you steered for it and sat, better to observe this way.

You pulled a notebook from your bag, trying to pass the time, there wasn’t much talk, though it was early, you’d been expecting some burst of excitement, it was Friday, but the buzz in the room made it feel like Monday. You found your eyes drooping, they fe–

“Good morning class.” A firm voice took over the room. You fixated your attention on the woman before you. Mumbled replies were all that came from it, but she seemed to ignore them as she turned her back and began marking up the chalkboard.

There was that same tingling feeling on the back of your neck, subtly, you glanced around the room, and there you found him, second row nearest the door, third seat in the line. He seemed worlds away now, even as he scribbled into his notebook mere feet sepretaring you.

Chills.

Who was watching you? You felt your eyes narrow and your patience growing thinner by the second–but you had to keep your cool. You omitted to the fact that you were being monitored, There wasn’t much you could do about it now, you theorized while you jotted down bullet points on subjects you’d already been taught.

Lunch was the only time you were allowed outside of the classroom since first entering. He stayed close despite his previous actions, it was comforting to know he was always there, keeping an eye out for you should something go wrong.

You wondered if he had noticed anything strange since yesterday… He was better, he always had been–you and everyone else were counting on that now, but outside, people were betting their work on you as well. This is where your skill could come into usage, you wouldn’t call yourself mastered in the art of deception, but you’d never failed an assignment, so perhaps you didn’t need to speak for your psychological skills.

“Excuse me, do you think you could show me where the bathroom is?” 

Blonde bangs swished back and forth as she looked up at you. “Me?” Her accent added to her beauty, it was french, though you couldn’t tell which country it was from, it didn’t sound Parisain, he’d know–you stopped the thought before it was complete and focussed back on the girl in front if you

“Yeah,” you smiled and swayed on your feet, “Who else?” You scoured the empty courtyard, catching Savino in the second floor window, sitting on the small ledge protruding out on the ther side. He gave you a quick once over, and you didn’t miss that raised brow–but rather than allowing the rest of his reaction to show, Savino twisted his body and leaned his back against the window, probably rereading the book evident in his hands.

You bit back a smile, moving closer the girl, “Sure, I don’t see why not,” she collected her things as quickly as she could, “sorry,” she kept her head down, her voice was quiet and incredibly soft, she was a bit shorter than you, an inch or maybe half. When she stood next to you, her scent hit you so vividly. 

She painted a scenery with that fragrance: sitting at your kitchen table on a gloomy, rainy day, looking out the window as you drink vanilla coffee and eat cherries, spitting the pits into a glass bowl.

She spoke very timidly and mostly refused to meet your eyes, you tried to move away from the topic of what she smelled like, but it stuck with you, leaving an impression you were sure even he couldn’t explain away. “You’re very quiet.” You wanted to ask if she had any friends, but you thought you rather knew the answer already.

“Oh,” was all she said. You thought it queer and wondered perhaps if she knew something about what Cairo was keeping, perhaps she knew exactly what your roommate seemed to not want to talk about. 

As this girl led you down a path made of stones, you let your eyes roam across the grassy area, “is this the closest bathroom?’

“Out here? Yeah.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind a pale ear.

“Your earrings are cute, where’d you get them?”

“Oh,” she stumbled over the word, “uhm–they were a gift…” 

You nodded, though her gaze was centered elsewhere. They looked pretty expensive, though you had to remind yourself that here–it was normal to be able to afford things like white-gold, dangled diamond earrings. You sighed–a bit depressed at the thought–and hummed, “So, do you come out here often?”

“Every day except–” she paused, “most of the time, yeah.”

You wanted to ask, but you knew it was too soon. You were still the new girl, everyone had yet to drop their guard. “What’s your name? Forgive me, I forgot to ask.”

“Avice,” she said, a bit louder this time and–he abruptly crossed your mind just then, you wondered how he was fairing, you were no longer in sight of the school, he must have noted your disappearance. If you weren’t back within half an hour, he’d probably make up some excuse to come to search for you–your heart swelled and you tried to shake off the hotness that had grown on your cheeks. “We’ve arrived.”

The day withered, growing dark and cold. Classes went on as usual, Avice smiled at you during two instances, and Savino glanced at you from time to time, but not long enough for anyone to notice–other than you, of course. He was keeping a safe distance, as you kept reminding yourself that was needed for this operation to end successfully. Your brain knew that and your body knew that, but your heart ached to talk to him again. 

You wondered if it was as hard on him as it was on you, to be so close and yet so far. You were once inseparable, you hadn’t seen or spoken to him in over a month–he’d been in Russia obtaining his new identity because as soon as your team had gotten the case, you had both instantly taken on the roles assigned to you. Though a clean and neat infiltration took time, it was a priority and had been fast-tracked.

It would be a lie to say the school didn’t have its fair share of normalcy, but the odd-to-normal ratio was stark. Your second day at Gentry Prep was over, yet as you turned on your side under the sheets, you couldn’t help noting the moon peeking through the window’s curtains–it looked to be a waning crescent, reminding you that this was only the beginning. 

The school bell rang its last warning, it had still been dark outside when you had walked down the halls with Cairo this morning, the shutters were now shut in the classroom, you could smell the rain that had stopped earlier this morning, it was much colder than the day before. You shivered and pressed your legs together.

Avice had waved to you on your way in, taking a whiff of that perfume she seemed oto exude from her skin. A deep blue headband pulled back her hair, and you noted the same earrings she’d worn yesterday adorning her. Something pulling you toward them, as if they were keeping a secret. She sat in the front–unexpected for someone so quiet. But perhaps that wasn’t who she really was.

You couldn’t be sure when it came to the students here, there was only one person you could trust, but he–you glanced toward him, a different book today. You wondered what he was reading, the cover didn’t match one from yesterday. You’d done your best to keep track of him, but that wasn’t your job–just an extra precaution because of your history. Were it anyone else, you wouldn’t have taken such an interest.

An hour went by, then came a knock on the door and a man walked in. He wore a white coat and held a clipboard. No one said anything when Avice stood. She kept her head down when she walked out, the professor went back to her lesson as soon as the briefly opened door was shut once more.

Savino glanced at you, eyes a bit wide, but he didn’t look like Savino. His face was schooled into a normal calm mere seconds later and Spencer switched his identity again, but he had been there. You focussed on the notebook below you, grinning from ear to ear, he was there. Any doubt that had resided within you was now gone. He was there.

Students weren’t allowed in the courtyard because of the rain. Savino had taken off as soon as you were released into the halls, thoughts of him floated around the back of your mind as you slipped your way toward the Hospital Wing, toward the south of the school. That was where Avice had to have been taken unless she was in the office across campus. You didn’t think she would have be taken all the way down there, but it wasn’t in your place to assume.

And then there was the other part of your objective. The one assigned especially for you. You had to find a man named J—. That was all the ASIO had given you because that was all J— had given them. He’d been feeding the police information, albeit slowly–but it was more than they ever could have hoped for. 

He was cautious and never showed his face. He was your informant. Though he’d made it obvious he wouldn’t seek you out–and he hadn’t been given the specific details about whom he was meeting. It was your job to figure him out.

There was quiet chatter in the air as you passed other students, some gave you odd looks, the remainders didn’t acknowledge you at all. 

The vibe, you noted, did not seem to shift, everyone had the same energy, and it freaked you out. Why were students sporadically disappearing? Why were there some students that cared to look at you and some that didn't? Why were the staff so weird and why did some of the students seem to know more than what they were letting on?

You couldn’t corner Cairo and force her to tell you, but you could snoop around and keep an open ear on any conversation that rang bells. Whatever was going on here had to be worse than what you’d initially expected. You wondered if he had been able to obtain anything out yet, so far it seemed he’d only been reading books, but you knew Spencer better than that.

The south side of the school was desolate, you’d left the quiet bustling of the rest of the students a few hallways ago. The gloominess didn’t escape you, hospitals weren’t your favorite place, but to have one in a school made from an old castle high up in the mountains where there was no one but the faculty and the students seemed rather…extra.

“What are you doing down here?” A voice halted you. It was loud and stern. 

Your hands started sweating and you swallowed before turning around, it was the same man who’d taken Avice. Perhaps he’d know where she was, “just looking for my friend,” you rubbed your neck and smiled, “you took her out of class early…I thought she might be sick.”

“Avice doesn’t have any friends.” he quickly backtracked when he saw your frown, “What I mean to say–” he cleared his throat, “–no, she is not down here, run along now.” He motioned with his hands.

Your mouth pressed into a tight frown but regardless, you nodded and walked away. That was defensive. 

You weren’t friends, per se, but you were familiar, weren’t you? You were more than strangers to be sure–you weren’t certain how long you were going to be in this place, but you knew you had until summer break, you just hoped it wouldn’t get to that point. Though your need to continue your search for Avice tugged at you, you knew it would be better to let it go…for now at least.

Perhaps she really did do something to get herself in trouble, perhaps she was back in her room, safe and sound and you had nothing to worry about. Yeah, right.

Avice has no friends, what did he mean by that? It was so…random.

You shook your head, pausing when you realized there were no students around you? Did you get lost? You turned around, trying to recall where you’d been coming from, but there were no signs on the walls. Okay, try to recall the building plan in your head. You pictured the fresh paper and the old fonts that swirled in black print. How many times had you looked at the school’s blueprints? You knew this, come on–

Chatter…hushed chatter. 

You pressed yourself against the wall across from the windows and listened, there were no footsteps and the volume of the conversations stayed the same. The gray sky darkened in pigment and the clouds drew together, it looked like it might start thundering. Perhaps classes would be canceled early? 

There was no 21th-century heating system, so being in the classroom at these temperatures could prove hurtful to the students–shut up. Gosh, you couldn’t stand your ramblings. You’d been away from him for too long, from the rest of your team members. You missed them–you weren’t made for things like this.

You felt the tears brimming in your eyes, but they stopped suddenly when a word caught your attention. You followed the sounds of the voices, there were two, maybe three. You rounded a corner and paused…that was the faculty room. You had gotten lost, but now you knew precisely where you were. You reached out your hand as if the blueprints were in front of you–as if you could feel your finger dragging across the old, worn map.

You moved a bit closer and listened. It was quiet and for a second you thought possibly someone had heard you. But a second later, “You know very well why we can’t.”

“This has gone on for long enough–”

“There’s too many of them–

“But if we–

“J— I said no.” You scrambled to hide behind the corner from which you had just come, and a woman–hold on that was your prefessor–Ms. Dowynger. What were they arguing about? You made yourself smaller on instinct when a man placed his hand on the door and stepped out, looking around the hall–he found no one, of course. He was tall–extremely tall. He wore thick black glasses and his hair was clean cut–just shaven, it was black, as he turned, you caught the sight of a nametag.

He was another professor–and not only that–he was your informant! Questions on top of questions piled up in your inventory, unfortunately, that was the first warning bell and class was starting up again, you were supposed to keep your head down, and your profile low–but you would get nowhere if you did that!

Tonight then, your expression grew serious as you found your way around the twisting halls of Genrty Prep, tonight you would make your first move. You rounded the final hall toward 4A, almost colliding with a guy. “Sorry about that,” you sighed. The guy–though he was in your class–took one look at you and walked into the classroom without saying anything.

You couldn’t tell if it was the weather or if there really were students who knew more about the disappearances of their fellow classmates than it seemed at a first glance, but if that were true, why stay quiet? Did their parents not have connections? Were they not the Elite of the Elite? 

You wanted to scrub your brain of all the things that were not making sense–and then there was that oddity–you eyed Savino as he rounded the corner at the other end of the hall. He fixed his metal glasses, looking ever the Russian schoolboy, and nodded at you. What was he doing? Where had he been this whole time?  

Dreadfully, you did not have the privilege of acquiring answers to those types of questions because there were more precedent matters that needed your concerning.

You did not make it to the library that night, nor the night after. Things just never seemed to go your way, and eventually, two days became a week and a half. Savino could always be found somewhere around you, but he too–at times–vanished. 

A few things you’d gathered with mild conversation. A few nights, including the first night you’d arrived, you’d heard a noise, that sounded much like blacksmith melding weapons. At it turned out, the grounds keeper you’d met worked in one of the rooms on the first floor. He never seemed to sleep, it had creeped some of the girls out, though the ones that never spoke to you looked on with an unnerved amount of indifference.

Your body twitched and your eyes shut briefly as the sound of metal against metal found your ears. Your eyes snapped toward Cairo’s bed in brief envy. Darkness was the room and cold was the night, you sat up shivering and tiptoed across the large dorm, careful not to wake the ghosts of the castle.

The white night dress you wore billowed when you pulled the creaky old door open, small lanterns were hanging on the wall that lit a path, and every other one was blown out, creating a dimness to the already heavy atmosphere.

You had two obstacles, one being the dorm lady who circled back and forth throughout the night. You hadn’t seen her, but the girls talked in hushed whispers, and you were pretty well-versed in connecting dots. Reaching out, you felt the wall's eccentric carvings as you floated throughout the West Wing.

The building plans appeared before you in your head again, and as you slipped passed corner after corner, you were finally at the grand stairs. You hadsuccessfully missed the dorm lady! But now you had to get passed the that creepy old grounds keeper–or rather, not draw his attention. For somer reason, he seemed to be working on things all throughout the night every night.

You wondered if perhaps it was a coincidence, but it seemed to bug the girls who spoke to you immensely. No one had acquired a good rest in quite a while. He came to your mind then, as you hunched down, trying to make yourself as small as possible. Has he noticed? A frown fell to your lips, rather sad than curious, that she’s disappeared?

A cold wind rushed passed you when you reached the bottom, the noise was louder now, coming from the right, the library was on the left, so you were sure you wouldn’t have a problem getting in and out. Your silk slippers skated across the marble floor, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up when you reached the library and the door was ajar.

You felt it again. That cold presnece that seemed to follow you everywhere. You felt like Mary and the gaze to which pressed up against your back was your lamb. You did a onceover of the hall behind you–no one. Your palms made fists and a repetition began.

A slight noise, perhaps the sound of a book falling to the floor or a person bumping into a shelf. Someone was inside. But who?

Your eyes fluttered shut and your chest tightened. Carefully you slipped between the crack created by the door and its frame. The glow of the moonlight on the books and every wooden surface reverberated through you–it was astonishing if you didn’t think about the underlying actions recurring within its walls.

There was no candlelight, but the curtains had been drawn. The wind, you realized. You paced forward and pulled the window shut. There was no sign of her, a sigh escaped you, and your gaze turned downward, where you caught sight of a few scattered papers on one of the large, rectangular tables litterd across the library.

Before approaching it, you scanned the room a second time, assuring yourself that you were alone. The papers were a few different colors, some creamy white, others beige, showing their old age, some in between, and some darker than that. Shaken as you were, your hands found a steady rhythm as they ran across the strewn out papers. A few writing utensils sat a little further down near a large manila folder.

You ignored it and took a seat, keeping your ears open for any sudden noise whilst your eyes passed over word by word as quickly as they could. Oh–this was–and then you found it, a photo, a school photo. It looked recent, it must have been taken, she looked so… there were no words to explain her expression. 

Avice stared the camera down, one side of her hair tucked behind her ear–showing a very clean–very not pierced ear. Where was her earring? And why was she making that face? This wasn’t how you’d remembered her. She didn’t–that wasn’t–those weren’t–you didn’t recognize her, but that had to be her…right? 

You found the student ID number, 590-882 below that showed her country of birth, Belgium, Liège–and below that, her full name. Avice Dierickx.

The paper fell from your hand, its texture bringing it down on the table slightly harder. You jumped out of the seat as the door to the library creaked open fully and murmuring broke through the silent fog. You twisted in the heavy chair and all but but ran into a wall, your first thought was to scream, your second was to stifle that scream, and your third was to fight off your attacker.

The library had gotten smaller somehow, there were two walls all around you and they both seemed within reach. A hand pressed firmly against your mouth and your fingers dug into the arms of the person in front of you, soon, you felt flesh break. A low hiss came from the man’s mouth and he let you go.

You pushed him back, though he caught himself before making a sound, and just as the door to wherever you’d been stolen off to came into view, he threw an arm out against the wall, blocking the way with his body, glaring down at you. “What are you doing?”

Your feet moved backward until you hit a window you hadn’t known was there. There were no curtains, but upon assessing the tapestry-made reality before you, you were glad there wasn’t. “Sorry,” you turned away, “I didn’t know it was you.”

“Well, that’s obvious.” He huffed, attempting to his mend wounds.

There were three bookshelves along the wall opposite you, but it wasn’t far. If you stuck your hand out and leaned a bit, you’d be able to reach them. The room was more of a long corridor, though it was skinny rather than the ideal wideness of one. Unlike a regular room, it fel like an American hallway. The concrete carvings continued around the visible parts of the wall. 

It felt like a secret room to nowhere, you breathed in the air that slipped through the old rickety paned glass, glancing downward. There were trees, but they looked odd, almost slanted. Your eyes widened and you stumbled back again, away from the window.

“Yeah,” he stepped forward, his chest catching your back. You looked up, watching him look out at the cliff, “it scared me the first time too.”

You wondered who he was this time, the safest answer would be Savino. You loomed over the window again, moving closer toward the shelves of books rather than the carved wall. “What are you doing down here?”

“The same thing you’re doing.” He raised a brow as if it were as clear as the missing light from the sky. It was a new moon tonight, but you thought it looked to be closing in on a waxing crescent, you could see him come to the same conclusion.

Perhaps speaking about your names was too risky, you shouldn’t be anywhere near him, you knew that, but you–“Is your arm okay?” He let you tug his blood-stained sleeve upward to analyze his flesh. His eyes clouded over as he watched you, fighting the urge to yank you further into him and inhale your scent.

He missed everyone, but he missed her especially. He hated the fact that though she was right here, right here in front of him, he couldn’t do anything. This was the assignment they’d both agreed upon, right? Could he really just pretend he didn’t know her?

“Did you see the documents out on the table?” He recognized her face, but everything else seemed off about her. He was starting to lose himself with each passing day, but he knew–he just knew if he solved the mystery and collected enough evidence to prove it, he’d be free from the torment that was every day in this prison. 

But they were alone, so why was she still acting this way?

A logical part of him knew it was her job, this was a job, only a job. He repeated the mantra over and over again. “Yeah, was able to get a few photos.” He waved the cellular device around, watching her mouth drop in a gape.

“They didn’t take it from you?”

“I was smart enough not to let it be seen.” Well, that would’ve been smart–but then again, wouldn’t have been believable enough for your persona.

“Whatever.” she dropped his arm, and spun around, pacing in the tiny space she had, “why would those papers just be on display like that?” She shook her head and clicked her tongue. “They’re way too cocky.” 

He had to stay away from her if he wanted this to work. Though he knew a rendezvous would be necessary, he hadn’t expected it to happen this fast. Perhaps when they needed to put what had together and discuss whether or not it was enough, or when they found someone suspicious, though they knew the other was better suited to take them on.

“What are you thinking about?” Her voice trickled into his head like hot coffee. Oh, how he missed his sugary sweet addiction, he swore he used to drink it every day, now it felt like a foreign concept, but if he tried hard enough, he could almost taste the liquid. 

He flexed his hands, he was Spencer. That was his name. But right now he had to pretend to be Savino, her classmate–wait! He grabbed her wrist as she tried pulling away, his eyes breaking the illusion he hadn’t realized he’d been creating, it felt like a innate thing now, he didn’t have to try anymore… 

Savino was slowly gaining more power.

The stars shined down on her skin through the window, creating a translucent aura around her, he felt like he was leisurely falling into a grave, one he wouldn’t be able to climb out if he lingered there much longer.

“We can’t do this–” she hissed and it was her, not —, not the Spoiled American Rich Girl, but her, his teammate, his tether to reality. “Savino, it’s dangerous.”

His breath caught, that wasn’t his name. It had only been a month in Russia, but he’d taken on this identity with full transformation. No one had referred to him by his name–his real name–in over a month. It may have seemed like a short period, but in that house in Russia, there were baby photos of him and class photos, he had to walk past the murals of his parents who weren’t his parents, hear people his didn’t recognize tell stories of what he was like when he was younger. And he wasn’t allowed to speak English nor could he reference his old life–it was always Savino.

He wondered if that was how she was conditioned and if so, how she was still as sane as she was beautiful. — frowned, where had that come from? He trained his eyes on her, she did not move, nor did she show any signs of opposing him. He leaned forward, cupping her face into his hands, tears brimmed his eyes but refused to fall, “Say my name.”

Fingers brushed against your mouth–his fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to hold in all the emotions threatening to break free. That wasn’t how — would react, and you couldn’t be anyone but her. You pushed him against the wall, pulling his face up to yours, eyes still on his, glancing back and forth between brown irises. But it’s just us, right?

He waited for her lips, but they never pressed against his, rather tickled his left ear with more love and grace than any kiss could have shown him.

“……Spencer……”

You jumped away from him, but he caught your wrists and tugged you back, careful not to make a sound as footsteps passed the very door that was hiding you. You breathed a sigh of relief, gripping the loose parts of his silk button-up, your hands were shaking, he pulled them into his, squeezing them in a silent comfort.

The muffled voices grew a bit louder as they grew closer to the table with the papers, no doubt. “Is that…”

“Bobefitz.” He whispered, his warm breath a stark contrast to the cold surrounding draft.

“Someone’s with him.” You murmured.

He nodded and hesitantly let you go. You tiptoed toward the beginning of the hall, holding your breath as you did so. You felt your blood pumping throughout your body at a higher rate than normal, you felt for his arm–he was there, you kept still even as he turned his gaze on you, ignoring his small smile, unsure of what it was suppose to mean.

The sky was clearer today so you ate outside, where you first spoke to Avice. Though your lunch looked incredibly appetizing, you were unable to think about anything else since that night in the library four days ago. Those documents that you’d seen, what did they mean? Why were they spread across the table? So far you’d stolen a few essays from the students and had begun your evidence file.

Keeping it under your mattress would be stupid, it’d be the first place they’d look should they find out who you were. You kept it hidden behind a painting on Cairo’s side. Okay, yes, you knew it was wrong, but she would never know, and you were doing this for her more than for you–right?

You had to continuously cnvicne yourself this was all for the students sake. You were in a dangerous position–you were taking a very high risk, but then who wasn’t? This was the career you had chosen, you can’t deter from the path you knew you were meant to walk because you’re scared. An idiot wouldn’t be, you knew that–but at times it just felt so…substantial. 

You’d take the fall if it were ever found, but you were sure that it never would be. Cairo wasn’t the type to go knocking things over, you rolled your neck–freezing up when you felt goosebumps run across your skin. There it was again. That same feeling of being watched.

Where the hell is it coming from? You felt like screaming–it seemed to always happen out of nowhere–you fisted your palms and stood, turning to clean your mess up while you got a good view of the court–there. What was–hey! Where did he think he was going?

You packed and tossed your things in the bin that sat near the fountain, rushing after the grounds keeper. He heard your footsteps through the grass–you could tell because you could hear the sound of your own footfalls. He didn’t turn around though, even when you called out to him.

“Hello?” You tapped his shoulders and jumped when he spun around, his face twisting into a nasty frown. He wore the same blue jumpsuit from the day you arrived, though now that you inspected it, there was no nametag.

“What do you want?” His accent was gruff but subtle, one might miss it if they weren’t listening hard enough, but you recognized it from your first day.

“You were watching me.” You crossed your arms, “I want to know why.”

He shook his head, an undesirable smirk claiming his frown. You hardened your face, feeling your eyes narrow. “It’s not funny. It’s creepy–”

“Look little miss,” he sighed, “I’m not watching you. I apologize if that’s what you thought.” He frowned again, genuine concern crossing his gaze as he held a hand to his heart. No, this wasn’t right. He was lying–but then– “And even if I were,” he said, having you pause and raise a questioning brow, “…it wouldn’t be for the reasons I’m sure your little brain is concocting.”

“Why do you say that?” He began to walk away again, but you chases after him.

He glanced over your shoulder and dropped his head, “You should get going now, little miss.”

“I’m not done talking to you!”

“–yeah, well I am, now leave me alone.” You huffed but stood by as he grabbed a dusty old bag of tools near his feat and walked off into the forest. How irritating. 

You needed to talk to Savino, sooner rather than later, you hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to do your job with limited resources, you’d never been in this situation before, the multitude of mock simulations you’d gone through couldn’t even begin to be compared to real life. 

Tapping your finger as you sat in class, you did your best to avoid staring at the back of his head. How. How could you communicate with him without–your thoughts came to a halt because Cairo couldn’t hear you, but she could read and write…but passing notes wouldn’t cut it, you had a better idea.

Cairo went to bed later than usual, studying for a quiz the next day; midterms were still a month away, though you were hoping to finish your job before you had to relive the worst anxiety of your life. 

Rubbing your eyes, you sat up, threw the sheets off your legs, and stood, wincing when the door to the room creaked.

Footsteps, not loud, but not quiet sounded right down the hall, it must’ve been the Dorm Lady, damn why was your timing so bad!? Slipping back into your room would make too much noise, she was too close now–a few feet away from turning the corner. You heard the hum the girls in your class had mentioned.

You were cornered–there was nothing but a window on the back wall and the hall your dorm was on led to a dead end. You sped toward the window, looking to hide behind the large dresser below it when the wall to the side of you began moving–you held your breath, confusion wrapped itself around you when the grounds keeper appeared, “Well don’t just stand there!” His shout was hushed.

Less than three seconds later, you heard the Dorm Lady round the corner. Relief fled your system, but before you could rest, the grounds keeper grabbed your hand and attempted to pull you down–the inside of the hall? “What is this place?” You snatched your hand back–a flash of Spencer and the small room in the library appeared in your mind, the memory put you off balance for a moment–you couldn’t think about that now. 

“Who are you?” The small lamp he was holding barely lit enough of the closed space to allow you to see each other. Behind him was pure emptiness.   

Your mouth clamped shut, you glanced away and swallowed, “I’m a student–”

“–No–you’re not,” he shook his head and made a face. 

He stared you down a moment longer, lips pressed together in thought.

Eventually, he sighed, “it doesn’t matter who you are. Why are you here?”

“I snuck out of my–

“Don’t crap on me kid. Whoever you are, if you’re sneaking out of your dorm at night you’re either stupid or up to something. Now which is it.”

Were you sure you could trust him? No. You couldn’t trust anyone. Those were the rules. You’d gone over them several times. It was the first thing you were told when you had received this mission. “I’m not stupid.” Was what you settled for.

He watched you, his chest heaving up and down five times before he nodded, “thought so. You a cop?”

You stood your ground, watching for any reaction that might indicate your cover had been blown. Another sigh, he pulled his hat off, and turned his gaze to the floor before nodding, “Alright.”

A little bit of your heart lifted, but you had to remember. The only person you could trust–other than yourself–was Spencer. “What’s your name?”

He shook his head, “that doesn’t matter.”

“What do I call you then?”

He was quiet for a moment, then a small smile slid across his mouth, “Nonno.”

Well, that was an odd name, but it didn’t make much of a difference. “You going to help me?” He went silent, eyes fixed on the ground he couldn’t possibly see. “Why?”

The whites of his eyes darkened, his gaze grew heavy, and his shadow seemed to enlarge. “It’s gone on long enough.”

He didn’t say more on the subject, but you had to ask. You had a sinking feeling it was worse than anything you could’ve imagined. But this was crazy–but then again, people do crazy things. He looked uncomfortable–he didn’t have to elaborate much, you both knew what he meant in the end.

A moment of silence passed as he led you through the hidden passages within the school, “Where’s Avice, the girl that disappeared from my class?” You still kept a safe distance. This was stupid. You shouldn’t have followed him without a weapon, he could turn on you at any moment. Perhaps he was leading you into a trap, you couldn’t be sure. But it was worth the risk, was it not?

These were the things you had to decide for yourself Hotch wasn’t here to tell you what the best course of action was–Rossi wasn’t here to school you the history of what, why, and how.

Nonno huffed and halted his walking. His ears perked up, when he heard nothing but the sound of shutters swinging back and forth, he continued. “The Hospital Wing.”

“But–I already–

“She wasn’t there before. She’s there now. She’s sedated.” He shifted the lamp to his other hand, coming to another stop. You kept silent, trying to control your breathing. He glanced back at you and locomoted to the side, “Look.”

Hesitantly, you stepped forward and peeped through the small hole. You swallowed a gasp, watching the doctor–the ghostly one from before–looming over a bed. Your view was crooked, you must’ve been in the wall nearest the door. You waited for him to move, but he didn’t–but you didn’t need him to because you caught a lock of blonde hair spilling over the side of the bed and you knew.

“Where was she before? When she wasn’t here?” You smelled her…the perfume was strong, even when you were feet away. Your eyes bagan watering at the smell, though you couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t unpleasant, it just…had you in tears.

“The dungeons,” came his gruss reply, “below the school.”

You slowed your breathing in an attempt to calm yourself. How–you didn’t want to even think about the possibilities. “How is it accessed?”

Nonno shifted uncomfortably, you spun around, eyes red-rimmed. His heart sunk knowing the things he’d been keeping–though he hand’t been apart of it, he’d done his fair share in ignoring the comings of goings throughout the years. He knew it was wrong, so he opened his mouth.        

You accepted the information, gulping down the bile that had built up. You fixed your gaze back on the peephole, but made no move to look through it again. “They’re being drugged, but why?”

Nonno’s face contorted, but now was’t time for bullshitting. Where the hell were these kids going? Voices echoed throughout and filtered in through the little cracks of the wall. His face dropped, “It’s time to go.” He began pulling on your wrist, but you still had questions.

A glare passed over you face and you pulled back, “Why? What don’t you want me to see?” 

He slapped a hand over your mouth, his eyes wild, but not like a predators. He looked almost…fearful…“Shhhh.”

Slowly, he released you, allowing you to head back to the peephole, there was a group of men you didn’t recognize–but one you did. Headmaster Bobefitz. “Oh my God.” your voice shuddered and you stumbled back, “They’re marketing them?”

His grim frown told you more than that. You didn’t question why he took so long to do something. You didn’t shame or lecture him. It wasn’t your place, to be sure you found it madness how a person could sit back and watch it happen to innocent children, but there was a part of you that feared his answer.

“What happens after it’s over?” A heavy sigh fell from the old mans lips; you were getting tired of hearing them. “What happens–”

“–I don’t know, I…I really don’t know. They take them down to the dungeons again and…”

You could conclude the end of his sentence on your own, you toppled over, holding a hand to your mouth, there was that french perfume–growing stronger somehow as it mixed with the scent of your vomit.

𝟷𝟻; 𝙲𝙳; 𝙻

You left the note in the machine before heading back to bed. Nonno had set up a typewriter in the hidden room Savino had found. He confirmed no one ever entered or left that room other than, “your friend”.

Telling Nonno about Savino was a higher risk than you’d ever intended on taking. But you were ready. You were ready to go home. 

There was one more thing you had to check off your list. With Nonno’s testimony, the evidence from the essays the students had written–to which you could barely look at–you had to get to J—.

He had access to the faculty room–you needed to get inside that room, but more than that–you had to convince him to testify against the school. That was the incomplete part. If you could only get a second alone with him–if you could convince him–you could and you would. You had no doubt….

……but what if I can’t?

Your eyes squeezed shut and you smacked your hands against your cheeks–this was no time for hesitation. You had coworkers counting on you–mothers and fathers [even if they were oblivious]. These students too–God, they were just children, you couldn't even begin to imagine.

A tear slipped from you eyes. You wiped it with your bedsheet.

Nonno would be able to get you a moment alone with J—, but it would take a bit of time, you had to share with Spencer what you knew before then so he’d be on the same page. Nonno explained he had seen Savino slipping through the secret passages the day you’d arrived.

The old grounds keeper had his suspicions then, but had kept them to himself and avoided Savino the best he could. “He’s been in that room every day around noon, he spends a lot of time in there.” Was what he’d said as he had led you back to your room. You hoped that Savino would see the typewriter, know it wasn’t meant to be there, approach it, and understand the letter was from you.

You’d shoved it between Dostoyevsky and Wordsworth, which you knew would catch his attention as he had seemed to have organized the books back there by author, though you knew it had been Spencer, not Savino that had been compelled to sort them that way–you were anticipating the old philosophers would draw him out once more. 

He’d be okay, you were sure…you had to be sure.

Nonno was stalking J—, learning his patterns in order to find the right time you could speak with him alone and unnoticed. You weren’t sure how long it would take, it’d only been last night that you’d found the secret looming over this boarding school. There’d been 12 students over the course of a decade. How did parents not notice? The townspeople? The staff? Who was all in on it?

That’s what you had to figure out. The lunch bell rang and you wondered if the rest of the day would be this agonizing. Avice was counting on you–every student seemed to have a target on their backs. You were sure there was more to the story, multiple students didn’t avoid your eyes because a student they barely knew disappeared–there was something deeper rotting within this place.

Sweating seemed impossible at the altitudes you were at, and yet even as the sky was a cold blue, here you were wiping sweat from your forehead. You had a sick feeling watching your professor. She knew something, it wouldn’t be a stretch to think they all did. 

There was something about the uneasiness of the day. You wondered what happened. Just last night, you were exhilarated, you felt like the end was approaching. When this was all over, you could give everyone peace, you could give Avice peace. You hated the fact that you had to leave her, but Nonno had assured you they wouldn’t settle so easily.

Though it sounded horrible, Bobefitz being a money-hungry monster meant Avice had a few more days. That was all you needed. You would save her. You would. 

Your eyes grew heavy and you shut them for a few seconds, inhaling the ghost of a scent. Your eyes opened, she was there and then she wasn’t. Your stomach dropped to your feet when the warning bell rang. How had an hour passed already? You felt like you were losing time, and maybe you were.

The clocks seemed to move differently in this place, where was the White Rabbit when you needed him?

Only when his hands touched her did he relax. He felt like he could breathe again. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was scared. Scared of his own mind, scared that his mind wouldn’t be his when he got out of here. He didn’t want to think about that. Nevertheless, when she was in front of him–and oh so tangible, he was safe.

“I have something to say,” she pulled away. She looked…Spencer couldn’t find the words. But he knew he was Spencer. Whenever he looked at her, he was taken back to that night–he felt the bristling of her voice tickle his ears, the way she whispered his name grounded him.

“You’ve found something?”

“More than something, I think you should see it for yourself.” She looked behind him, and when he heard the scraping he blocked her with his body. It was the grounds keeper. Shit was he in on it too? Of course. Of course, they’d be found out now. Spencer didn’t know how he’d proceed, but he knew it was them or this guy, and he wouldn’t let it be her. Not her.

“Spencer,” his body sagged at the way his name rolled off her tongue, it was soft and soothing; understanding. She tugged at his arm slightly and said, “It’s okay, he’s with me.”

Spencer wasn’t prepared for what he was about to see, nor for what he was about to be told. He’d successfully gathered the names of each staff member and had sorted them into three groups. The Oblivious, The Knowing, and The Disgusting Pieces of Trash That Committed. He hated knowing the oblivious had the least amount of names on it, at just three.

Spencer didn’t know how many students had been sexually assaulted and he didn’t know how many other students knew about the assaults. What he did know was that no amount of therapy would allow these kids to forget what happened here, no amount of therapy would give back the fours years they spent–and the worst part was that ther was more out there. Students from the past years–over ten years. 

And now there was a sex trafficking ring on top of the sexual assault these students have had to edure becasue the adults that were suppose to be protecting them looked the other way. It was leading him to question if what he did at the BAU was really ever making a difference.

It was, to be sure it was. That was a stupid question, the logical part of him said, but it’s never dumb to ask that question, is it? The other part pressed. Jesus, what was becoming of his world?

A tremendous number of trauma. He was a grown adult and even he had trouble sleeping at night knowing everything he did, he couldn’t imagine going through puberty knowing everything and knowing there was nothing you could do–not to mention having absent parents that dropped a wad of cash in your bank account every week in turn for their presence.

No, Spencer could not imagine that at all. A shiver curled up his spine. He was cold, she was in her nightdress so she must be cold as well. But everything would be over soon. He believed that. He had to.

You had grown accustomed to walking down darkened hallways. You no longer waited for ghosts to jump out at you because ghosts were not the scariest thing that tormented this place, unfortunately, the terror showed itself in people that were very much alive.

“Stay quiet.”

“I will.”

“Watch yourself.”

“I will!” He hushed you even though you didn’t think you were that loud.

“And be careful.”

You huffed, but you knew he was only worried. He shouldn’t be though, this was your job, you wanted to be here–this is exactly what you were meant to be doing, and as the key passed between his hand to yours, you knew you wouldn’t have traded this life for anything else.

You stepped out from the hidden passage and swept toward the large wooden door. The key went it and upon slightly twisting it, clicked. Your heart almost jumped out of your chest with how loud the noise was. It bounced off the walls and you were sure someone who catch you–but the hall remained empty. 

You knew Nonno was watching you and that you had nothing to worry about, but for some reason, his stare still sent a shiver up your spine. You pushed and the barrier gave way, though dark. You held up the lamp Nonno let you borrow, here it was. The faculty room.

And there in the corner, waiting in the dark, was J—.

You slowed the speed of the door shutting, allowing it a light thud before spinning around and acknowledging him. “Agent, I’ce been expecting you,” he pushed up his glasses, and shoved the papers he seemed to be grading away, “though to be honest…I wasn’t expecting it to be you.”

“Why?” You raised a brow.

“Just,” he waved a hand and shrugged, “I believe we have mor pressing matters to discuss.”

“Yes,” you licked your lips, noting the filing cabinets that stood against the back wall behind him. You moved forward and settled the lamp on a nearby table. “Would you like to begin?”

Your informant shifted, and his hand bended, almost like a twitch. “I want to be clear on something,” his voice was low and croaky, as if he hadn’t slept in days. “I want ful protectin. Before anything, I am a schoolteacher. I took on this job without knowing….it, and I’ve been doing my best to keep a low profile while simultaneously feeding the government information.” He crossed his hands, “I want to know when this is all over, I won’t be arrested.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and scoffed. This felt familiar. Very familiar. “I’m in no position to assure such a thing, but what I can tell you is that the head of the ASIO has no ill intent toward you–ysomeone should have told you this already, but,” you leaned for ward, glancing at the old candle hlder near him, he had little wax left, “so far, you have done everything the ASIO has asked of you–you’ll be in protective custody for a while when this is over”

“Good,” he pushed his glasses up again, though they would undoubtedly slide down the bridge of his nose continuously during your conversatin. “Then,” he slid his chair out and spun, running a hand up and dow the drawers until he found th eone he was looking for, “you should take a look at these.

You’d promised to keep this part of your mission a secret, but right now you were really wishing you had Spencer’s reading abilities. You sifted through each file, reading through the reports. 

You wondered just many student complaints had been filed about it. “Huh,” your eyes scanned over names you both recognized and didn’t. “These have all been ignored, I assume?”

“These are all relatively old, to be honest. I think all the students know by now they’re useless.”

“How many do you think…would be willing to testify?” You leaned back.

J— sighed, and leaned agains this chair. His eyes, though flickering in the candle light, seemed dimmer than they did suring the day. Perhaps because this was the real J—, he was a narcissist, but he cared about his job. He chose this career for a reason, maybe something signofcant happened with a teacher in his childhood–you forced yoru mind to pause. Profiling him wasn’t something you could add into your evidence file. 

“I don’t know,” he finally said. He was young, possible your age, but the bags under his eyes added more than a few years. You knew it’d be a big ask, but perhaps some of them would be willing–hold on, what a was that? You ran your fingers back through the list of names again–her name was pretty broad, and yes,this was an international boarding school, but something told you this was her. “What is it?” He leaned forward, eyeing the parchment in your hands.

You bit your lip–you wouldn’t put it past these animals–but would someone really…? It would explain that way she acted when you began to ask too personal questions. You felt the brimming of tears, you had to keep your cool, but as you tugged out the file, your chest shuddered. “I know this person.”

What did this mean? You read over the document again, Oh Cairo… your heart felt for her. You recognized the girl sh’de named; Hadee had been the 10th student to go missing, that was just last year. The being pulled out during classes lined up with what happened to Avice.

You gripped the form, you could use this as evidence. You set it down before you made a dent larger dent in the paper. You would be the one to explain to Cairo what happened. You would–you would–breath in. Breath out. Come on, you can do this. 

Water streamed down your puffy cheeks. You wanted to be home. You wanted to go home. You needed–you needed arms. His arms. You needed someone–not just anyone–you needed him to hold you. Now more than anything you needed to keep it together.

Keep it together.

Your eyes closed for a moment. When they fluttered open again, you wiped the remaining water with your the sleeve of your nightdress and got back to work, ignoring J—’s stare as he pretended to continue grading papers.

Back and forth, you eyes ran up and down through the paper trail–it was amazing what you could do when your motivation was strong enough. You knew Spencer wanted to go home. You could see it in his tired eyes. Nonno’s too. You didn’t know his story, though there was this curiosity in you that wondered if there would come a time where you ever would. Regardless, you could see the burden of guilt weighing down on his shoulders, figuring it must have been a long since he’d smiled.

He didn’t need to go to prison, he was already in one. He had been for the last decade. You wouldn’t be the one to ask, but you knew he’d have to explain why he kept quiet all these years to someone.

You supposed it didn’t matter the age, anyone would lose their mind if they stayed in this gloom long enough. You knew you were tipping over the edge with every passing day. You couldn’t imagine a year living in this place let alone ten. 

You couldn’t read through all of them, but you grabbed every single one and added it to the growing pile beside the lamp on the table. Soon, your sight grew weak and your yawns were no longer just an actions to pass the time.

You stood, stretched, and cleared the mess you’d made. Someone was bound to notice the number of missing reports sooner or later, but you were putting your faith in the ASIO that they’d storm the place before then. Your job was supposed to get out–not wait for their signal, but it was starting to feel like that would be harder. Only one of you could leave. That would keep suspicions low. 

You slide the chair you’d been using back in and grabbed the lamp–the candle was almost completely gone, “done?” J— raised a brow.

“Will you testify?” The stack of papers you held in a death grip hit your chest as you pusehd your chair in.

“Do I have a choice?” It seemed like he ha tried ot make a joke, but you weren’t in the mood for jokes. J— cleared his throat, shifting under your piercing gaze,“yeah, yeah I’ll testify.”

“Then, yes, I am.” You walked to the door, pressed your ears against it, and listened. 

When you deemed it safe, you held in a breath and pulled it open, wincing at the loud squeak. You held your cheeks between you teeth and forced yourself into the cloud of darkness.

“Nonno?” Your breath blew out like fire. The floors were ice-cold, you could feel it through your slippers. You scanned the hall, looking for him behind the walls. As the silence grew, so did the pace of your heartbeat. 

Then, a slight shift in the concret wall and there Nonna stood. Relief hit you like a wave and you began breathing regularly again. “Come on,” he waved a hand.

A weary smile tugged your mouth up slightly as you moved forward. Your body went rigide, your eyes went wide, and you shivered. Slowly, you craned your neck, but there was no one. You turned back to Nonno. He was in front of you. He wasn’t hiding, you could see him as clear as the light in your lamp would allow you. So who? Who in the hell was watching you? If it wasn’t Nonno, then who?

Seconds later you found yourself once again hidden behind the walls of the school. “What took you so long?” You shouted in a whisper, your body jolted as if you had been shocked, the cold was getting to you.

“Nevermind that,” he waved a hand, “let’s get you back before anyone notices you’re gone.” He frowned at your disheveled frame, “let me see that.” He grabbed the lamp from you, and you–now free–ran your right hand up and down your left shoulder, trying to create some sort of friction.

Nonno led you through the halls, but you stopped him before he left you near your dorm. “There’s one last thing I have to ask you to do.”

He took a step back, evaluated you, and sighed, “What is it?”

A month and a half. A month and a half you had been in this school. You had learned the comings and goings of the staff, of the students, you had adapted–had become part of the system. You were in the clear–but just in case–just as a counter mesaasure–

No, you shouldn’t think about that because it only mattered if you were caught. And you weren’t. You hadn’t been, today was the day. Tonight you would call the number J— used and he would deliver the message. He was smart–smarter than you’d imagine. You’d seen the cryptic messages he’d elft the ASIO before leaving to begin your training. It was ovr–almsot–it was so close you could practically feel the sweet victory in the air.

Avice would be saved, Nonno had assured you she was still in the Hospital Wing, she was still there–she hadn’t been auctioned off yet. You thought had water brimming the corenrs of your eyes, but you blinked them back.

You thought of the countermeasure you had instilled last night. And the second favor you had asked of Nonno. At first it was just one, but as you were setting up the first favor, a thought occurred to you, and it was always better to be safe than sorry.

Spinning a black pen in your fingers, you bit the inside of you cheek and leaned on your right palm, glancing out the window to your left. Bolted, as always. You noted your reflection, it looked somehward warped, you shivereda nd leaned forward, analyzing the mirror just a bit harder. 

The sun was a bit more noticeable today, but the air was just as cold. You blew a thin lock of hair out of your face and shifted in your seat. Was that? No, you must be seeing things. A sigh fell from your lips and you let you relaxed a bit more. Crossing one leg over the other and letting your eyes fall shut, everything almost felt like a dream. You couldn’t have asked for anything better last night. Nothing had gone wrong, it seemed almost too easy–though you were doing your best to act as casual as you could, it was hard. Because everything had gone so right, you felt a bit lighter.

It sounded wrong, knowing Avice was being drugged hourly and she must have gone through so much to get to that point–you were hoping she didn’t remember any of it when everything was over. You didn’t know if it’d be better to remember or to forget it all–so maybe you weren’t the best person to be suggesting or giving advice on the matter.

Your back straightened and your hands fell onto your desk when that guy in the white labcoat–the one who had whisked Avice away, appeared in the doorway of the classroom. Savino’s eyes found yours briefly, but before anyone else could notice, he diverted them. “Miss —,” the guy called–you hadn’t deduced whether or not he was an actual doctor, regardless, his licence would definitely be revoked withing the coming hours. His eyes landed on your professors, then yours, “please come with me.”

Fear. 

You stomach dropped, you felt sick. Not a single student would look at you. Nonno hadn’t spoken much about what happened when the students were first taken, he’d actually neglected to say much at all. And you were partially thankful because you didn’t think you could handle knowing whilst mere probabilities away from being their next target.

You stood numbly, your chair scraping the floor extra loudly–or maybe that was all just in your head. Your hands grew clammy and your movements were rigid as you walked. “What is this for?” You forced out, though you knew it was better not to draw any more attention to yourself than already had been. 

The doctor eyed your person, his thin, pink lips were cracked, they pursed together in a way that looked like it hurt. “The Headmaster has requested your presence.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, chilling the rest of your body. Every step forward took effort. Savino caught your gaze when you passed his desk, and almost instinctively, grabbed your hand. Squeeze squeeze Spencer squeeze squeeze I’m scared squeeze squeeze what do I do?

“Now, please.” The unnamed man called briskly, his voice wavering on annoyance. 

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but before you could stop yourself, you shook your head and snatched your hand away, following the man out. This wasn’t his battle, and even if it were–you loved him too much to throw him under the bus. Underneath all that Russian coolness, he was still your nerdy, beloved coworker.

Gone. Gone. She was gone. She was gone and he had let her go. He should have done something. Why did he just watch? Why didn’t he stand? Why? Why? Why?

He had to get out. Spencer bit the fingernail attached to his thumb. He had to escape. He had to alert everyone on the outside. He had to do it now.

They knew. They knew! Spencer wasn’t dumb. By standing up–by doing anything other than letting her go, he too would have been caught. The operation would be compromised and perhaps neither him nor her made it out of this alive. It was as clear as to why he had stayed silent. That didn’t make it any less bearable. If he lost her. If he lost her–Spencer would–he would……what would he do?

Nothing. He couldn’t possibly know what he’d do because he couldn’t imagine ever possibly losing her. She was him teamate, his literal partner in crime–or rather in fighting crime. That sounded studpid. Why couldn’t a single coherent though come form him?

He needed to focus on getting her back. Right? He was useless without her because she had information the Australian government needed. She had evidence he didn’t, half assed evidence whouldn’t fly in court, would it? He stopped, his eyes tracing over the type writer, there was another note. Another letter. He’d burned the previous one in his dormroom’s built in fireplace.

He followd the words with his eyes as he stepped closer. The page ripped neatly, making a crisp sound Savino in that moment couldn’t find it in himself to enjoy.

𝙸𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝟻𝟶/𝟻𝟶 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝, 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝙽𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜. 𝙾𝚋𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢, 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛’𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛. 𝙸 ��𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗. 𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚎. 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍? 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚜. 𝚁𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚁𝚎𝚒𝚍. 𝙳𝚛. 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚁𝚎𝚒𝚍.

It wasn’t written. But he felt like she wanted to write more, to say more. And if he was right, then she was more selfless than he could ever be.

He allowed himself a few seconds, when the warning bell rang, he took a breath, wiped his tears, and folded the piece of stock paper, tucking it into the pocket on his blazer.

You stepped into the school’s office. It felt like decades had past since the last you’d been here. The room was as sullen as you had remembered it. The man in the white labcoat stood with you in the suffocating room until the doors behind the desk opened and Headmaster Bobefitz came into view.

His name tasted sour even in to the voice in your mind, you held in the urge to make a cross face. His smile was shuddersome, you wanted to run–to hide–to be as far away from this man as possible. The man in the labcoat began to walk away and you turned, almost as if to ask him to stay.

You didn’t and when you face Bobefitz again, he had his eyebrows raised in mockery. They seemed to say, go ahead. You found your eyes narrowing and though sweaty, your palms compacted into fists. “Don’t make that face,” his voice trickled through the closed area, low and haughty.

It was disgusting.

“Follow me, let’s talk.”

You quivered, held your breath, and put one foot in front of the other. It didn’t matter that you were trapped. Spencer had everything he needed to call, and that was enough for you. If it had to come down to you or them, well, you had chosen the second option the instant you had taken on this operation–you couldn’t walk away now, just because you were afraid. He would understand, wouldn’t he?

A large desktop computer sat on a desk in the dark corner of the tight room. It was smaller that the one outside, he was closer now, but he took his seat across from you and motioned for you to sit. The room was decorated with flags of over 30 countries, a picute frame sat facing away from you.

You held your arms and hunched your shoulders, “you wanted to see me?”

You jerked at the way he stared at you. Pure evilness. His balding head might have been shiny in another sort of light, his black eyes peirced you. There was nothing there. No soul. It wasn’t human–whatever sat across from you. “I want to show you something.” His voice sounded sticky, dirty, and cruel.

His clammy, pale skin seemed to seep into the wall behind him, he melted in his chair, hands on his beer belly as he watched you analyze the screen. Horror dawned on you–image after image. In your room, in the halls, in the classroom, in the hospital wing and the faculty office–a close up of you leaning toward the camera unknowing–oh my God…this picture had been taken just moments prior.

Panic hit you from every angle as one photo in particular caught your eye. Your fingers flexed open and closed several times while your eyes ran through every detail.

There you were–talking to Nonno outside of the gates. The date read 02/16/07. It hadn’t been Nonno watching you, it had been Bobefitz. He had cameras all over the school…

He’d been watching you since the very beginning.

His hand connected with a line of books. A few of them came off the shelves. His angry eyes darkened at the sight of the files tucked safely behind Notes from Underground, the book that had led him to this secret room. He didn’t have time to wait until tonight. He had no idea what they were doing to her and even if he did, he was useless. God, why did he have to be so weak?

The grounds keeper–whose name he still didn’t know–appeared on the other end of the hall near the door. “We need to get a message to your friends.”

“You think I don’t know that?” His eyes narrowed as he came face to face with the old man. His average height gave Spencer somewhat of an advantage, and as he towered over the old man–a thought occurred to him– “If I find out you had anything to do with–

“I didn’t.” The man held up a hand, “you need to calm down.”

“Calm down? Don’t tell me to…fucking calm down!” His voice cracked–Spencer never cursed–but what if he wasn’t Spencer? What if he was Savino? With her, he knew who he was–he knew what was real and what wasn’t. But she wasn’t here, and he couldn’t remember what he had to do again–

Savino’s back hit the shelves behind him, he’d been shoved– “You need to get yourself together. You want to save these kids? You want to save the little miss?” His accent sounded slavic–no that was Savino’s own accent. Spencer held his head, a grimace colliding with his face as he moved to a crouch.

“I know who I am,” he whispered, “I know who I am.”

The grounds keeper sighed–Savino looked up, his brain was splitting in two. It was safer to default back to Savino. It was more comfortable to not fight back–but he had a mission. He couldn’t just let hismelf go–he couldn’t because he had a job to do–and Savino didn’t care about those things–that wasn’t in his conscience.

—

The name reverberated in his head. But was it her name or the fake name she had been given? They were the same person, right? He didn’t know–he didn’t–

—

That was Savino’s priority. He didn’t care about anyone or anything else. But she would never forgive him if–dangerous. This was a dangerous situation–a dangerous game of reality. 

“Get me ug–” He pushed himself onto his feet. It hurt–it hurt mentally. He wanted to sleep; he didn’t.

“A phone?” His head tilted upward, standing behind the old grounds keeper was the  frame of a short man pushing up glasses too thick for his face.

The unnamed man stepped further into the room, sliding out a mobile, and clicking a few buttons on the device. It rang through the small hall-made room,a nd eventually a click. The other line had picked up. The man nodded, a grim expression floating across his face, “one’s been taken, the other looks like he’s losing his shit You shouldn’t have sent them if they weren’t ready.”

“We didn’t have that privilege.” He stood, not knowing who the man in front of him was, only knowing he didn’t like him enough to fully trust him. The final bell for classes rang. He didn’t care, all that mattered was getting the evidence into safe hands. He had multiple battles ahead of him and he’d have to fight them all while simultaneously not knowing who the real him was.

The halls of Genry looked odd. Everything was blurring–or perhaps that was just your vision–the windows were bolted as usual–but something else caught your eyes. You took pause at the chains hanging from each lock. Those weren’t there before–if they had been you would have no doubt noticed them.

“Where are you taking me?” These weren’t the normall halls–they were replicas. “Get off of me!” You shook whomever held your hands behind your back.

Your jaw mentally hit the floor and you stumbled backward, “d…dad?”

“Hello, sweety,” tears pooled in your eyes, what was going on? Why–

“Oh, dad…” he opened his arms and motioned you forward with is hands. You felt his hug before you took your first step.

You took another and another–halting just before his hands wrapped around you. A flash of dark brown down the halls–but behind your father weren’t the halls you’d just been walking down–it was a large, floor to ceiling mirror that extended the entire space behind him like an icicle made from magic.

Your body jerked to the side–though when you turned around no one was there, you gazed around once more, but your father was gone. You were alone–you were all alone. The sky outside the bolted and chain-linked windows grew dark, clouding your vision once more. You stumbled and grabbed onto the chains to keep yourself from falling. 

You were falling–the building was falling, it was slanted it–where were you?

“Ah, you’re awake.”

You blinked and everything returned to you. Your father was dead–had been for about six years now. You were dreaming–you had been dreaming. None of it was real. Then what is. You felt tears spring to your face. This was madness–you were delving into it every second you were here. 

None of it is real.

You hoped Spencer had gotten your letter. You hoped he was out of here, perhaps the ASIO were deploying their teams now–readying to take the school.

“Well, you’re a bit older than the usual ones.”

“Can we sell her?”

“Oh, I think you’ll be alright.” The beady eyed doctor in his stupid white lab coat fixed his only working eye that hid behind a monocle on you, “there’s bound to be a buyer for everything–though you could probably pass her off as younger, if you wanted.”

“You bastards,” you seethed, snatching your wrist to your stomach–you head turned–it was chained. The space around you was dark–darker than normal, there were no white carvings in the walls–no it was all–it was gray–deep, ugly grays filled your vision.

A cynical laugh echoaed throughout the room–a few followed. You tried to get a good look them all, you might have to identity them later. You better enjoy this. You’ll rot in prison for the rest of your lives when the system is through with you. You jerked the handcuffs and beared your teeth, I’ll make sure of it.

An hour before classes ended, Savino heard the sirens. The moutains were an hour drive from the closest town–the school was about 30 minutes up hill–frankly he was surprised they had gotten here so quickly. Surprised–and grateful.

“So, how does this work?” The old man asked gruffly, “I’ve heard them through the walls, they’re looking for a missing student.”

“Yeah,” he wasn’t dumb. He knew he should have gone back to class to keep from drawing attention to himself, but Savino didn’t need to care about suck things. Some part–maybe both of them–knew that if he went back to class he wouldn’t have lasted as long as he had holed up in this room.

But then, that would mean Savino and Spencer both knew that Spencer was the real him, right? Because why else would they both know that it was better to stay hidden? “Are you crying?”

“No,” but his voice wavered and he felt hot despite the weather.

He felt he should have someone–someone other than her–someone on the outside. Someone he could turn to–but he couldn’t–“Ugh,” he groaned.

“Are you sick, what–what’s wrong with you?” Old Man leaned over him and helped him sit upwards. “Oh, Son…that’s not good…” he shook his head and he didn’t know what the old man was referring to.

“Wait,” Savino turned his head to the right, toward the door, “do you hear that?”

“Is it them? Is it safe?”

He stumbled toward the door, “let’s go through the walls just to be sure…”

Old Man hesitated for just a second, then with tight lips, nodded, “come on then.”

The grimy walls were of no concern to Savino–though he’d been in much nicer conditions, they served a more significant purpose now–they hid him.

Footsteps–several sets of them–then a voice–a voice he thought he recognized. “Stop–” he whispered, holding out a hand.

“What–what is it, do you know them?”

“I don’t know…” he pressed his ear against the the wall, then, slowly, lifted a piece of concrete that had seemed to have been cracked ages ago.

Black gelled hair, a menacing frown, and set eyes–where did he knew that face from? What ws his name? A woman walked beside him, she looked familiar. Short cropped hair, ghostly pale skin, and high cheekbones–he knew these people.

Or did Spencer know these people?

Who was the real version of himself? Savino. He always resorted back to Savino because that was the safest option…right?

“Do you knw them?” Came the question again, but he didn’t know how to respond to that. Did he know these people? Or did he only think he knew these people. He needed–he needed her. He needed to find her. She would know–she could tell him. He wasn’t confused when he was with her…

But who was she again? A schoolmate? When did he first meet her? She had two names. Two names…why… Why could he not figure this out on his own? His mind was playing tricks on him, why couldn’t he trust his own mind?

“Spencer…”

Savino glanced up–catching Old Man’s eyes, “how do you know that name?”

“She…she told me. Last night–before everything…she asked me…for two favors…” Savino felt worlds pass through him.

“I’m Spencer… Spencer.” he whispered to himself. His hands pushed off the concrete and he held out his hands, “give them to me.” This wasn’t how it was suppose to go, but neither of them were suppose to get caught either. That wasn’t the plan and neither was this, but fuck the plan.

Spencer stepped out from a secret passage down the hall of the main wing near the office, he turned back to the unknown man and waved. The walls casted over him and he was gone just like that. 

He stepped into the office, it was quiet at first, but then all three people turned their heads to look at him, he only looked at two, “do it now.”

The man glacned at the stack in his hands, the woman radioed someone, turned around, and handcuffed the baffled man–who was evidently not the headmaster. Where was that son of a bitch?

“Spencer,” the serious man stepped in front of him, but Spencer didn’t care. He shoved the stack of files into his bosses hand and stopped Emily.

“Where is she?”

“I–I don’t–

“I’m going to ask you one more time–

“Reid–”

“Hotch–” Spencer glanced back at his boss, he didn’t know what he looked like, but he assumed a bit messy; he was sure there were bags under his eyes, and even so he didn’t know how deep they went. “Where is she?”

The doctor that had taken her out of class earlier–Spencer had seen around the halls and he he knew by his nametage–this man had been sorted under The Scumbags Involved–or whatever he’d labled it. The doctor lowered his head, “they had her takne to the dungeon–”

“That’s where they keep them before the bidding,” he said, more to himself now–his mind was running at a million miles per second, a small smile fell to his face. He wass starting to feel just a bit like his old self–though he knew he’d been altered in some way.

Spencer he spun around, “REID!” Hotch called after him, but Hotch could go fuck himslef if he thought he’d leave her alone any longer.

Without a gun. Without a knife or any other sort of weapon, Spencer booked it throughout the school; the old Spencer never would have though tot do something so stupid, but times changed a person, so perhaps he now would under the right circumstances.

The ogling you could handle, the messing with your head wasn’t ideal, but you were still okay. You knew who you were–where you were–and that a rescue team would burst through those door in any moment now.

But the not knowing was killing you. You had smelled her perfume. You could just make it out–and then a second later you had seen a flash of blonde hair–all wrinkled, like it had been in the same position for days–it was dry, but a brush would fix it–that’s what you hoped. 

Your first concern was why was she down here? To be sure, your deduction was spot on–you were in the dungeons beneath this wreck of a school.

The second was where she’d vanished off to. Where had they taken her? She was there and then she wasn’t– gone, just like that. That’s when your crying began. You couldn’t stop it. Where–was she? You couldn’t have been too late. You couldn’t have been–

That pig sat at your bedside any chance he got. When the doctor wasn’t around making sure your blood preassure was stable and the right amount of doses of whatever drug they were giving you were keeping you in your bed. You were sure it was diazepam, otherwise known as valium–a date rape drug.

Though you were afraid it could be something much more worse like flunitrazepam–being motionless left you with nothing to do but think–you felt like your mind had been running for ages. The thoughts that coerced through your mind weren’t pretty, paired with the only smell being rot and Bobefitz–you wanted nothing more than to breathe in Avice perfume. You didn’t have the mental capacity in the state you were in to think of something happy–to take yourself somewhere else. But more than that, you had to remember her. 

They would need to find her…wherever they’d taken her.

You didn’t know how long ago you’d seen her, but you couldn’t smell her fragernece anymore and the day was sure to be getting later and later. It was fire to your skin, like you snorted chili sauce. Your mouth watered–when was the last time you’d had a drink of water–God you were starting to lose it.

You closed your eyes-but only for a second, you assured yourself. Cold fingertips padded across you collarbone. You shuddered, your eyes fluttered open to a nightmare. Bobefitz’ face hovered above yours, his breath had your breakfast receding and his beady black eyes had that same souless suggestion that felt like there were bugs beneath your skin, itching at your flesh to get out.

“I suppose they wouldn’t really know anything if I were to–” he cut himself off, laughing. A sinister thing you wantes no part in. Your chest huffed as his eyes landed back on yours, “I mean, when he’s done with you, you’ll join the others anyway.” He leaned forward, his belly folding in roles you couldn’t wince away from, “tell me, my dear, did you know those missing studnets you were investigating never actually left the premises?” 

Whimpers fell through the cell they’d placed you in right as his thick, stubby fingers slid over the buttons on your shirt. A noise sounded somehwere down the hall–someone apparated in the entrance of the chamber and Bobefitz’ head snapped upward. 

You couldn’t see who it was, but sooner rather than later the tubes attaching to you were ripped out and the cell was overtaken. Someone lifted you up from the bedyour eyes scanned the room, though slow and docile [you were still incapicated]. 

There was no one else–Avice wasn’t–“Youhaveto–”you wheezed, “–gettohershe–” another wheeze.

“Whoah whoah–slow down,” his breath coated your neck as he move you into his arms. Your words were sloppy–almost like you were drunk.

“Find…her–” 

Spencer’s eyes never left yours as he carried you up the stairwells and through the halls of the castle. There were men in black, guns pulled out in front of them. Further down the hall you started to gain movement in lower your joints, it wasn’t anything like a miracle–but it was something. You could hear the comotion of classes being stopped, you tried to remember everything in order to put things in order for yourself–but it was so…hard.

Everything was just–

Smoke in the air had your eyes watering, a medic was adjusting the mask around your head–your mouth. Your pupils dilated and you tried to sit up, but it hurt–you felt around, realzing you were on a gurney. “It’s okay–you're alright.” Another medic was getting the ambulance open and ready behind you.

Burnt ash–oh that’s foul! You coughed, heaving in breaths, “just calm down, it’ll be alright.” A third medic rubbed your arm, you twitched–feeling uncomfortable. Eventually, she stepped away when you seemed to have settled down. 

What was that? What the hell–where was he? Spencer you had to find–Avice, was she okay? Did they find her?

Your vision was clouded by the vapor and the graying sky–it was late and you were high up in the mountains. You could hear people milling about–a swarm of people were in front of you, there were cars, there was a gate, there–oh my gosh.

Groups of people–mostly students and police–surrounded the outside of the school. It was burning–the school was on fire–the entire thing, it was burning down–and you smelled it–the little oxygen you had access to caught in your throat.

Her perfume. The fregernce was so strong you turned your head because she must have been beside you. There–a lock of blonde hair…disspearing behind the walls of the school, toward the…the courtyard. You jerked away from the medics, why were there tubes in you? You’d had enoug of that–you sat up, holding your head.

“Hey, you can’t–you have to sit so we can help you.” Her gentle voice wasn’t soothing any part of your headache. What happened?

“Get off me,” you pushed and rolled yourself off the gurney, hitting the floor with a thud. There waere shouting, more people circling you–God why couldn’t they just give you a moment? You ignored the blood trickling from the sleeve of your button up.

You shivered–though you didn’t know why. You had to get to her, people watched you go around them–probably wondering where you were headed and why you would want to go back into that wretched sinful. 

A hand caught your arm and though your first instinct was to jerk it back–you hated being touched, though you didn’t think to question why that was in the moment–you kept your cool when you noted who it was.

She held up a piece of paper, blocking line of sight, you caught the black ink scribbled down–the smoke grew stronger, filling the space between you and the paper. You pulled it out of her hold and help it closer to your face.

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦...𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺?

Cairo’s thick hair appeared in you peripheral secons afterward. You gripped the pen she extended toward you and clicked the top.

𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝘁𝗼𝗼

You smelled it. Her scent mixed with the smoke–adn she wasn’t here. You’re heart fell to your feet and cupped your mouth to keep the bile down as the memory of what that things had last said resurfaced …those missing studnets you were investigating never actually left the premise…

You slide to the floor near the gate and screamed–it was deafening to you–and though she couldn’t hear you, you could tell Cairo understood. She held you for a moment which was weird because you were the adult. You were the one who should be comforting her.

She walked you toward the gurneys again, doing her best to conceal you from the media that somehow found there way up here even though you were sure the roads were being blocked off. 

She handed you back the paper after a moment–it was dirty, you now noticed–and wrinkled. You read over the paper, and her frown turned into somewhat of a griamce as she tried to smile–though it only seemed to deepen her expression. 

𝘪 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪'𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘨𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦

Though everything hurt and you felt dirty in your own skin, you did took the pen and paper back.

𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁'𝘀 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗯𝗮𝗯𝗹𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝘀𝘁

You thought that would be the end of it, Cairo had turned, seemingly ready to walk away–but she hesitated. A second later, she was sliding another piece of paper into your hands–you felt something between the folds. Your hands gripped the paper, though they began shaking uncontrollably, so you had to set it down. 

Cairo was lost in the crowds when you gazed up again.

It was a bit of a struggle, but ultimately the corners of the pages were flattened on your lap. You felt another wave of tears spring into your eyes when you took in the object. A single earring you could never dream to afford captured your attention–and the words on the page behind it,

𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶

your head jerked up, you eyes searching through the crowd for any sign of the girl. She was there and then she wasn’t–just like….you couldn’t bring yourself to even think her name. 

And then, almost fundamentally, your eyes caught tussles of brown…when his face came into view, a new kind of sadness came over you–it hit hard and heavy. He smiled, already making his way toward you–and you knew then–that you were safe. Though abruptly, you smelled that fragrance and you knew this was only the end of the beginning.

a/n: genuinely so proud of this fic–i was very excited to write this, i also tried something different with Cairo's report–please let me know if you liked that or not and stay updated for part two !!

@darkmatilda @theylovemelody@kennedy-brooke @maisyyyyyy

[seungfl0wer]

*𝘼𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙒𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜*

Pairing: Minho x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Daddy!Minho, Degrading, (Slut and whore used), Orgasm denial, Chocking, Spanking, Oral(M), FaceFucking, Creampie, Unprotected sex, Sorry for any mistakes or missing warnings

A/N: I’ve had this idea for awhile- kinda made it a little uhm- mean dom Minho lol so hope you enjoy.

-🖤

Minho had been gone for the day. Leaving for work early in the morning. Prying himself from you to get out the door. He had been gone for so long, and you were becoming incredibly needy. You texted him around 4 asking him if he was gonna be home soon. He’d texted back ‘not for a few more hours kitten’

As you waited you plopped yourself down on the couch sighing loudly. Not even the cats were coming to comfort you. You huffed whining loudly to no avail of course. You felt like you were going insane. Board and needy out of your mind you made your way to your room. Rummaging through the closet to find one of your toys to play with. Minho wouldn’t be home for at least a couple hours, so what he wouldn’t know wouldn’t hurt him right?

You rid yourself of your bottom lazily pressing the toy to your sensitive clit. Finally getting some relief, the first touch made you moan loudly. Body already arching from the bed. You had your whole body spread now getting yourself off to the thought of your boyfriend. Wanting nothing more than to have him come home.

Something you didn’t realize though was the Minho was watching. You had forgotten all about the cameras he had installed to watch the cats while he was gone. He would check them occasionally to check up on you. What he saw made an evil little grin come across his face. He watched as you toyed with your puffy clit, moaning loudly. Calling out his name as you grabbed ahold of the sheets. Oh was he gonna punish you, because you knew better. ‘Naughty thing’ he thought to himself. He made up some excuse to leave early, not telling you he was on his way to catch you in the act.

Unbeknownst to you as tears pricked at your eyes Minho had gotten home. You moaned out loudly finally cumming as your legs shook. In your daze you didn’t hear Minho opening the door. He stood there with that evil grin watching you “What do we have here?” He said from the door way.

Your body jumped at his words. “Minho I’m” you started to say before he cut you off.

“Who?” He said shooting you a glare.

“D-daddy I’m sorry” you said eyes avoiding his gaze.

“You’re sorry? You know better kitten.”

“I- I just missed you and I-“ you stuttered out.

“No excuses, you know you’re not supposed to touch yourself and especially not supposed to be playing with toys without me hmm?” He said in a stern voice.

“M’sorry” you said softly.

He moved to sit on the end of the bed patting his lap. You knew what he wanted but didn’t move. “M’sorry daddy please” you said trying to give him puppy eyes. Only for him to start counting. 1. 2. He started, you got up slowly slinking your way to him with a frown. You assumed the position laying your body over his lap. “Count”. He said before smacking your ass. “One” you whimpered out.

“Louder” he growled with another smack.

“Two” you said louder. He smacked your ass a few more times as you counted each becoming a bit harder as he rubbed it softly afterwards. The last smack was the hardest, making your body shoot up. “That one hurt” you whined looking back at him.

“It hurt? Is that why this bratty little cunt is dripping?” He growled pushing your body back down onto his lap. His hand roughly came down pushing his fingers into you with no warning. “This dirty little cunt is soaked? You sure it hurt that badly?” He said with a grin.

He pushed his fingers in and out of you his thumb coming up to press against your clit. “Daddy!” You cried out, your head feeling dizzy from his fingers working their magic. As you felt another high coming he could feel your body clenching around him making him chuckle. He removed his hands from you and before you could even whine he was man handling you in the bed. He pushed your body down, back against the bed. Your head was at the edge of the bed eyes glossed over as you looked up at him.

“Open that filthy mouth” he demanded as he lazily stroked his cock. You don’t remember when he took his pants off but they were gone. Thrown across the room somewhere with your own clothes. You looked up at him not really hearing what he had said. His hand found your face gripping it as he repeated himself “open. That filthy mouth don’t make me say it again.” He growled. And you did. Opening your mouth as wide as you could before Minho pushed in. His cock quickly filling your mouth.

He used your mouth roughly, fucking into it as his hands gripped at your hair. “That’s it- fuck take it- little brat couldn’t even wait for me to get home hmm? Such a little whore.” He groaned. His cock hit the back of your throat his head falling back at the feeling. Your hand moved on its own moving slowly down to your soaking cunt. His eyes shot to your hand smacking it away quickly. “You don’t learn do you?” He said with a low chuckle.

He leaned himself down as he fucked into your mouth. Hand coming down with a loud smack to your cunt. You jumped at the feeling head moving up taking more of him back your throat. “Fuck-“ he moaned out.

He quickly pulled out of your mouth maneuvering your body how he wanted it. He pushed your body down, stomach now laying flat on the bed before you felt him behind you. His cock head poking at your entrance. “Color” he said as he rubbed the head up and down.

“G-green” you mumbled out.

That’s all he needed to hear before he was pushing into you. His hands gripped at your hips as he fucked into you mercilessly. His cock head kissing your cervix so nicely. “I bet this is what you wanted huh? For me to catch you just so I’d punish you? Is that what you wanted kitten? Wanted me to treat you like the little slut you are?” He said.

Your brain was fuzzy however you knew you needed to answer “n-no- I- ah I just missed you” you cried.

“Missed me? So since you missed me you thought you could get yourself off without me hm? You know that I’m the only one allowed to touch the pretty little cunt. I’m the only one that is allowed to make it cum” he said.

“M’sorry” you cried louder.

His hand came down hard on your already raw ass “you knew you weren’t supposed to and still did. Right?” He said almost coldly.

“Y-yes” you answered.

“So do you think you deserve to cum?” He asked.

“Daddy-“ you said softly.

Another smack coming down on your ass “answer me”

“Please- I won’t do it again- just- I wanna cum with you please please” you repeated.

“Do you think I should let you?” He said again. “You did something knowing you shouldn’t so why should I let you?” He spat.

“M’sorry m’so sorry!” You cried feeling tears pricking at your eyes.

His hand came down around your throat, choking you slightly. “You’re gonna take everything I give you. No cumming. Got it.” He said against your ear. You only nodded knowing he wasn’t gonna let up. His body was now pressed firmly against yours as he rutted deep into you. “Let this be a lesson next time you decide to do something you know you’re not supposed to.” He growled against your skin.

He pushed once more deep into you before cumming, painting your walls white. His arms came around you pulling you to him. He left soft kisses to your skin as he came down from his high. “M’sorry” you whispered out.

“It’s ok kitten” he coo’d.

“Do you hate me” you said softly. He knew sometimes with punishments you felt guilty for whatever you did. He knew you’d need more reassurance.

“Kitten, I don’t hate you. You just gotta listen ok? I love you so very much” he said as he cupped your face to look at him. He kissed your lips softly holding you as close as he possibly could.

“I’m really sorry” you said again.

“Sssh it’s ok love, don’t apologize anymore. Everything done, so how about we go shower and I’ll cook us something hm?” He said with a sweet smile.

You shook your head yes but you held onto him tightly “can we cuddle a little more first? I really missed you today” you said looking up at him with those pretty eyes.

“Of course kitten. I love you.” He said kissing your cheek softly.

“I love you to daddy” you said back nuzzling into him.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget @0omillo0 @jellymochii @stilltrynafuckingtumble @catlove83 @delulkpopstan143

[stellasdrafts]

Wanted/Woman (Arthur Morgan)

Summary: two stranger outlaws find themselves captured by bounty hunters (Arthur Morgan x outlaw!Reader)

Word Count: 3.8k

Content: female reader, capture and bindings, violence and death, light gore, mentions of infertility, forced proximity, manipulative reader, enemies? (not quite but they dislike each other) to tension, crude language, male slander

Notes: surpriseeee new hyperfixation (dw will still be writing for leon too!! just added a new fictional man to the roster yum). i imagine mid-honor Arthur for this :) (also idk shit about guns so bear with me thanks). this is kind of an amateurish attempt of mine at criticizing misogyny bc i’m pissed off about today’s political climate. cliché on purpose.

The last thing you remember before going dark is the stinging pain of being pistol-whipped in the face by some bounty hunter’s grimy revolver.

As your consciousness comes to, you see flickering firelight from behind your eyelids. Even before you open them, you mentally curse at yourself for even letting yourself get in this situation in the first place. You had always prided yourself on your talent of finding secluded areas to camp out in. As well hidden as they could be when your picture was plastered on fences and announcement boards across three states with a bold, capitalized WANTED above it, anyway. You suppose you had gotten comfortable – sloppy. You slipped up and somehow those bastards found the shitty abandoned house you were using as a hideout, ambushing you while you were stubbornly focused on patching up a hole in one of your boots.

It takes you a moment to gather your surroundings in the haze of post-unconsciousness. The tent you’re being held in is hot, despite it being dark outside. The air is thick – stuffy and incredibly unpleasant. The smell of animal carcass lingers on the canvas as if it had recently been used to hold some hunt. You hear the muffled sound of men discussing by the campfire roaring outside – something rather serious, you assume by the tone of their voices. It doesn’t sound like too many of them, only two by the clean back-and-forth flow of their conversation. Somehow, the most obvious detail of your capture is the one you register last – the burn of rope at your wrists and feet, and the warmth of another body at your back. You’re bound to someone.

Your heart rate picks up at the sudden realization and you tug, beads of blood drawing at your skin. You’d typically consider yourself a rational person, but with the fog of having just woken up, your brain jumps to the worst conclusions. There’s no way of knowing if the person behind you has been shot dead already, they’re completely still… That is until he speaks.

“Would you stop that? Rubbin’ your wrists raw won’t help either of us.”

Take a breath. You’re better than this. The bounty hunters outside are men, and now you know the person behind you is one as well. Maybe some good old feminine charm could be your ticket out of here. It wouldn’t be the first time your conniving passive woman act got you out of scrapes. They might kill the man first, anyway.

You look around, making sure to make him feel you squirm. Your breath quickens and you summon a more proper accent. You won’t go down. Not like this. “W-What the hell is happening?”

The man’s body shakes lightly behind you – the sonofabitch is chuckling. “Oh, quit playin’ dumb. I saw you when they brought you in. You got posters from here to Colter.”

You make sure to yank at your ropes the way a panicked woman would. He hisses at the pain and you’re glad you don’t have to hide your prideful grin. “No, I don’t know what’s going on! There must be some mistake!”

The hunters haven’t even checked in on the two of you yet, but by the timbre of their conversation outside when you awoke, they’ll get the gist of this one too, and you’ll be damned if this stuck-up man leads to your demise.

“There ain’t no mistake, woman.” Looks like there won’t be any fooling this guy. He must be in the business, you assume. “Tryin’ to play the damsel in distress won’t help you any, so quit your whinin’ and stop pulling at the damn ropes.

“I’m not!” You sniffle. “M’not who they think I am!”

You may as well feel his eyes roll. “Right. What’s your name then?” You give him your usual decoy as he attempts to sit up straighter. “And what’s got an innocent thing like you in this kind of trouble?”

“I don’t know!” you cry. “I was mending some clothes when they burst in my house and knocked me out!” you recite with ease. It wasn’t a total lie, after all.

The man listened to your sob story, wanting to get a read on you, you presume. “Is that right? You were… just sewin’ when they magically came out of the woodworks and took ya?”

The goddamn attitude on this man… “Yes!” You start crying again. “Oh god, this can’t be real!”

You hear your companion let out a heavy sigh. “Alright, cut the dramatics, darlin’,” he grumbles. Twigs snap outside and both your heads whip in the direction of the two hunters’ shadows near the flaps. He lowers his voice. “I know you’re puttin’ on that act and it’s getting’ real old. It’d only work on someone dumb as rocks so-” he’s interrupted as the two bounty hunters waltz in, surely having heard you wailing seconds prior.

You flinch hard and make yourself fall to the side. You’re a pathetic, blubbering mess – the complete opposite of what they’ve surely heard of the outlaw they were chasing. You will make them doubt themselves. Manipulation is your specialty, and men are so simple minded~

“Please! Please-”

The captors look a bit startled by your distress. One of them, the bulky one, kneels down at your side. Men just can’t help themselves, can they? They just have to save the pretty tormented girl. He tries to soothe you by placing a grubby hand on your knee. “Calm down, sweet thing.”

You try to hide your recoil. It’s not like you can scoot backward anyway, since you’re tied to the pessimistic wanted man. “P-Please, will you just tell me what’s going on?” You blink with tear-soaked lashes, being a convincing little housewife.

The hunters share a look, as if silently trying to contemplate the legitimacy of your cries. The bulky one returns his attention to you, seemingly placated. “We ain’t gonna hurtcha unless you give us a reason to, sweetheart. We’re just here to bring you down to the sheriff’s office.”

You hear the other wanted man scoff behind you. Surely, they weren’t actually falling for this?

The taller one hanging back grins cockily. “Gonna get us that nice little bounty on your head,” he adds.

It’s your turn to bite back a scoff. Little? There’s nothing little about a hard-worked two-thousand dollars on your head alone. You’d even been dubbed Bullseye.

For your own sake, your eyes go wide as saucers, as if you’re truly repulsed by the idea of having committed any crimes. “Bounty?! That’s impossible. I’ve never sinned in my life. Please, there must be a mistake-”

The tall one chuckles and you feel flames of anger licking at your insides. “Oh, there ain’t no mistake. You must’ve done some reeeeal bad things. Bounties like that ain’t given out for no reason.”

The bulky man nods to corroborate his friend’s words, but judging by its slowness, he seems a bit more apprehensive. “…You seem too soft to have a bounty of a couple grand on your head.”

Your new wanted companion whistles from behind you, impressed.

“Goddammit, Wilson!” curses the tall one.

There’s the crack you need. You keep pushing, sensing the foundation crumbling between the two. You shake your head feverishly. “I don’t know who you think I am! I’ve told you my name. I’m a housewife. M-My husband’s name is Elijah. Really, I barely ever go out. I don’t know what’s going on here.”

The two idiots glance at each other again, brows raised. Wilson tilts his head. “Roberts, maybe we fucked up. I mean, look at’er! The law has been after the girl for years. The… The posters are old. They’ve been up so long that they’re kinda faded… Maybe her and Bullseye really do just look alike.”

The tall one – Roberts – doesn’t answer right away. You’d venture to guess he’s more trigger-happy than his partner. “I didn’t see no husband inside the house.”

“He’s off on business in the next county at the moment.”

Again, they seem to communicate without speaking aloud. Wilson stands with a groan and nods in my direction with urgent eyes, evidently commanding Roberts. The latter steps forward with a sigh, his arms crossed. “Fine. I’ll bite. If that’s the truth, miss, how long you been married?”

You smile weakly, pretending to recall a memory. “Since my Elijah and I were nineteen.”

“All this time and no children?”

You drop your shoulders and strategically let your smile fade. You’ve been waiting a while to use this one. “No, sir, I been having… issues,” you admit shamefully. And you’re so proud of yourself that you hope even the non-believer tied to you is starting to wonder if he accused you of being a liar a little too quickly.

Both the hunters are taken aback at that. A woman shouldn’t be talking about private matters to strangers. The dumb bulky one breaks the silence first. “I-I’m sorry about that, ma’am…” he mumbles awkwardly.

You nod solemnly and wipe a skillful tear from your cheek with your shoulder. “I begged him not to go- begged him! A-And now I’m tied up-” You gasp and try to put some distance between yourself and the man you’re tied to, but it only yanks at both your binds. “Does that mean I’m tied to a killer?! Oh God!” you cry and squirm violently.

Wilson raises his hands the same way one would calm a horse. “Ma’am, calm down-” In an attempt to calm you down, he grabs a knife from his belt and cuts your wrists’ bindings while Roberts rushes to make sure the other outlaw doesn’t try to pull some stunt. Unlike yourself, he leaves him fully bound and secures him to one of the tent’s support posts.

Now that you aren’t back-to-back with him, you catch a glimpse of his face for the first time. Oh shit. You recognize him immediately – it’s impossible not to, not in your line of work. That’s Arthur Morgan, one of Van Der Linde’s men. One of his most feared men, actually. No doubt he has a pretty bounty on his head as well.

You don’t have time to dwell in your thoughts because that half-witted hunter speaks again. “I won’t untie your ankles, though. Can’t have you runnin’ off on us until we’re sure you ain’t it,” he says with a chuckle.

You want to punch that condescending little smirk right off his face… But you can do even better.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of running.”

“Well, that’s good ‘cau-”

He trips over his words when you snag the knife from his naively relaxed grip and jam it into his neck with all your might. As he topples over, you swiftly grab the revolver from his holster and shoot Roberts a couple of times in the chest before he can even react.

“Goddamn fools,” you mutter as you undo the rope around your ankles, seemingly unfazed by a tied-up Arthur Morgan some feet away from you.

Even writhing on the ground, Wilson disturbs your newfound peace, gargling on his own blood. You roll your eyes and put a bullet between his own. Standing, you stretch your limbs, rubbing where the rough rope had dug into your skin. You retract the bloody knife from the bounty hunter’s neck, giving it a twirl. It was a pretty knife, engraved with some intricate swirls. You earned it.

You finally look up at Arthur. “You were right, I s’pose.”

“Seems that way,” he replies, carefully watching every movement of yours. You’d seen that look in men before. He was trying to gauge if he was going to be the next recipient of your wrath.

You grin and lean back against some crates, enjoying seeing such an infamous man be so unsure. “Now, what to do with you?” you ask rhetorically.

You watch as his eyes go from the dead man at his feet to your calm figure. Evidently, you had managed to impress him. Pride swells in your chest. He nods toward his bound ankles. “Well, are you going to get these off? That would be greatly appreciated,” he inquires dryly, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You hum, giving the knife a couple more twirls. “I bet, Van Der Linde.”

The outlaw raises a brow, otherwise utterly composed. “So you know who I am… Or at least who I run with.”

“Mhm.” You trace the edge of the bloody blade with your index. “You’re no small feat, Arthur Morgan.” You push off the crates and nod at the corpses on the dirt. “They would’ve lucked out.”

“I’d say the same for you,” he replies, his gaze unrelenting.

The two morons had spoken your alias, but it’s the fact that Morgan recognized it that sticks with you. A sick sense of satisfaction bubbles within you at the knowledge that your name has been spread to one of the country’s most notorious gangs.

“Well ain’t you sweet,” you quip sarcastically.

Arthur looks down at Roberts, mere inches away from him. “Your aim on him could’ve been a bit better, though. Too far right.”

You? Aiming anything other than perfect? You scoff, your eyes narrowing as you search through a sack on the crates for your confiscated guns. “I don’t have to let you free.”

“And I don’t have to be pleasant,” he retorts gruffly, and for a second, you’re reminded of who you’re talking to. The adrenaline from your victorious escape begins to simmer down and you realize that perhaps you shouldn’t be speaking to an accomplished killer this way.

…But you’re one yourself.

You look over your shoulder with a smile. “You’re tied up, hun.”

The man scowls. “Oh really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Amusing, this one. But perhaps you aren’t exactly in the position to have Dutch Van Der Linde and his boys on your tail for taking out their best man. You sling the bag full of your belongings over your shoulder and crouch before him, pushing Roberts out of the way with one foot. “I can’t see why we can’t be amicable, can you?”

One of his brows quirks up. “Depends on your definition of amicable, miss,” he dryly speaks your family name.

“Charming manners.” You tilt your head. “I reckon we ain’t that different, you and I. Two of the most notorious criminals. Everyone knows our names. We were, well-” you gesture to his bound current state. “-both tied up. On the same team, if you will. We live the same lifestyle. I don’t see the point in goin’ off and tattlin’ on each other.”

Arthur lets out a quiet huff. “So you’re suggestin’… What, an alliance?”

“I’m suggestin’ silence. You go off without worryin’ about me sending the law after you, and I do the same.”

“And how do I know I can trust you?” He’s skeptical, and you can’t quite blame him after he’s just witnessed how you swindled those men.

“It’s a two-way street, Mr. Morgan. I’m the same as you, it’d be hypocritical to turn you in. Plus, I don’t quite care to alert the law of my presence by going in to report you.”

You can practically see the gears turning in his head. “Fine. But I’m not forgettin’ this.”

But his mention of an alliance lingers in your head. You hold up a finger. “On second thought, I’ve got a better idea. More fool-proof terms, if you’re hesitant to trust me.”

He rolls his eyes, obviously not enjoying being at your mercy. “And what would those be?”

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “It’d be idiotic for members of the same gang to snitch on each other, wouldn’t it?”

A look of realization washes over his face. “It would,” his voice drops lower, not liking where this is headed.

“Then, I’ll be joining the Van Der Lindes. I’m tired of sleepin’’ with a pistol in my hand.”

His expression shifts, seemingly amused by your conviction. “Oh, are you?” he retorts with a chuckle. “What makes you think they’d even let you in?”

You grin. “You knew exactly who I was when you heard those twits call me Bullseye, that’s what.” You stand up straight. “And you’re going to give me a shining recommendation.”

“Am I, now?”

“Mhm… Or I could throw you on my horse out there and we could have ourselves a nice little ride to some sheriff’s office. I figure Saint-Denis would have the most intense security. You don’t think they’d recognize me if I just rode by and dropped you on the doorstep, do you?” You jeer as you rummage through the tent, looking for anything of value to take.

Despite your threats, a small smirk creeps onto Arthur’s face. He takes a moment to study you, weighing his options.

“Confident, ain’t ya?”

“With reason.”

A beat. You just stare at each other.

“Can you untie me already? We’ve got a lot of ground to cover to get back to camp.”

[rebelfell]

Barbeddheimer took over a little bit…stand by…

“Hey, Eddie…you think we could talk?”

Eddie’s head shot up hearing Barb’s voice, his heart swelling seeing her standing in the doorway to the drama room. She was early, catching him right in the midst of setting up the map, on his knees and digging around in his bag.

“Of course!” he said, clumsily scrambling to his feet, his voice coming out a lot smoother than his movements. “Anything for you, gorgeous. What sort of boon does my fair mage crave?”

“It’s about that, actually,” Barb answered.

She hugged the notebook in front of her chest a little tighter, looking down to hide the small smile creeping across her lips. Lips that Eddie, as per usual, was having trouble keeping his eyes off.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“The whole…I don’t know…the flirty stuff. I was wondering if maybe you could cool it a bit?”

Oh, wow. So this is what it felt like for your heart to fall out of your ass. Eddie had to lean on the edge of the table, staring down at nothing in particular as wave after wave of guilt hit.

He curled his fingers under the edge, digging his nails in the particle board. What was he thinking? How could he have done this? Screwed up so colossally with the only one who mattered?

“Shit, Barb, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…I mean, I never wanted to make you uncomfortable—”

“No, no, it’s not that,” she assured him quickly, giving a little shake of her head and chuckling in spite of herself, “I actually, um…I kind of like it.”

Eddie felt a lot of things at once. Relief, first and foremost, followed by a rush of confusion.

“Oh,” he said. “So then…what’s the problem?”

“Well, I just,” she sighed, her eyes rolling behind the frames of her glasses. Not in annoyance, just like she’s trapped in thought. “I guess I like it too much? And I know you don’t really mean it—”

“Sorry, wait—don’t mean what, exactly?”

“You know, just that you…”

Barb tugged her bottom lip back with her teeth, and it took every bit of Eddie’s severely limited self-control to keep his mind out of the gutter.

“That you…like me, or whatever. I’m sure you do this with everyone, but I don’t get attention like that, really ever, and I’m not used to it and—”

Okay, that’s it. Eddie pushes himself off the table and starts to wave both his hands back and forth, the chains on his zippered sleeves and the cuff bracelets on his wrists clacking together.

“Hold on, hold the fuck on one minute...”

Eddie pinched his eyes closed, his brain running through thoughts at a speed that made him dizzy. He knew he’d been maybe a bit too forward, but he couldn’t help it. She was so smart, so wildly, incredibly fucking smart, it was more like a superpower than mere intelligence.

In spite of himself, Eddie sort of loved seeing her week after week outwit and outmaneuver all his traps and pitfalls. She always saw them coming even when the rest of the party were none the wiser. And she’d gotten them out of endless scrapes and jams by thinking her way out.

It absolutely infuriated Eddie, for sure, but only about half as much as it turned him on.

“So, wait…you think I’m just messing around?”

“No, not messing with me,” Barb answered him carefully, “but if you’re trying to make me feel welcome, or part of the club or something, I wanted you to know you don’t need to.”

Eddie’s head fell back on his shoulders, staring up at the stage lights hanging overhead like he might find some kind of answer hiding in the rafters.

As it was, he was gonna have to go off the cuff.

“Barb, I hate to break this to you,” he chuckled, “but I don’t act nearly this dumb with anyone— let alone everyone. This is…all for you.”

Barb blinked back at him curiously, lips pursed in confusion and her brow wrinkled like when she came to an equation that tested her verve.

“What do you…”

Before she could finish asking, Eddie closed the distance in between them with three long strides. Her breath stuttered as he took the notebook out of her hands, revealing the Hellfire emblem that was plastered across her chest. He flipped it to the first blank page and scribbled something down with the pen from behind his ear.

He then handed the notebook to her, letting the tips of his fingers brush with her trembling ones as she took it back and tucked it in her arms.

“Let me know?” he asked, tipping his head at her and holding out the pen he’d just used.

It was one of hers. She loaned it to him one of the first times they had studied together, and it had not left his person since. Not until now.

She took it from him, that little wrinkle in her brow not budging as she opened up her notebook and started flipping through the pages until she found his scrawl among her neatly printed words.

[markantonys]

i've got to put out an attempt to spread the good word of wheel of time to some of my new rings of power followers!

are you hankering for a new fantasy show to fill the void of ROP? look no further than wheel of time! it's also on amazon prime and is something of a sister-show to ROP. there are 2 seasons out currently, and season 3 is in post-production and slated to release sometime in 2025.

here's what WOT is about:

in a world that has reincarnation, rosamund pike's character who has been described as lesbian gandalf learns that an apocalyptic figure called "the dragon" who broke the world 3000 years ago has been reborn as a new person. accompanied by her platonic work-husband to whom she's psychically bonded, she narrows her search down to 5 potential candidates, a group of 20-somethings from the same little village. the group embarks on a quest to figure out which one of them is the dragon reborn, but even the ones who are not the dragon have nevertheless been chosen out by fate to have their own remarkable powers and key roles in deciding the fate of the world.

here's what makes WOT similar to ROP:

multiple-storyline ensemble show with a variety of personalities among the main characters, so you'll be sure to find Your Blorbo in somebody (and there's a pretty big variety among the fandom of who everyone's faves are, which goes to show how good ALL the characters are!)

epic fantasy that earnestly and wholeheartedly embraces its genre and the inherent whimsy and fantasticalness therein, without acting like it's embarrassed about having fantasy elements or like it considers itself too good and too prestige for the genre

it has some truly dark and harrowing stuff, but it never feels like it's gratuitous/just for shock value and never descends into cynical grimdark territory. it centers on the importance of hope and togetherness to fight against evil (tolkien was a primary inspiration for the WOT books' author robert jordan, so some of the vibes and themes are similar)

incredibly in-depth worldbuilding and world history

gorgeous costumes, sets, scenery, soundtrack, and production value. i could wax poetic about the soundtrack all day but will restrain myself and just say that it's a similar approach as ROP of specific character themes rearranged ad infinitum to suit the tone of different scenes and that it has a very unique soundscape that stands out from traditional orchestral fantasy. the costumes, especially in the second season, are some of the most unique and distinctive i've ever seen in a fantasy show, using lots of sharp/modern silhouettes to evoke a different feel from your standard medieval-inspired fantasy costumes. and vibrant colors!!!

absolutely Perfect casting across the board, with every actor from the most seasoned veterans to the newest-comers delivering wonderful performances, embodying their characters perfectly, and clearly having the time of their life making this show.

major character recast between s1 and s2 haha but like with adar, both mat actors are wonderful and it's impossible to wish one was the other while watching their respective performances.

Wholesome Boy Besties, and overall a lack of toxic masculinity and a total comfort with letting men be tender and kind and emotional (in fact, i'd say WOT does even better at this than ROP)

mesmerizing villains who run the gamut from tragic to Sexy Fun Evil to straight-up bonechilling (oftentimes multiple categories all rolled into the same villain). what if sauron was a sexy sexy lady whose top hobbies were serving cunt and gaslighting her boytoy? watch wheel of time to find out.

on that note, what would you get if you took the toxic hero/villain/villain polyeroticism of galadriel/sauron/adar, dialed it up to 11, and made it borderline canon that they used to be in a throuple that ended badly? one of the major dynamics of WOT s2, that's what.

a slower, establishing first season followed by a bombastic second season that raises the stakes, lets the villains out to play big time, and generally knocks it out of the park. so if you're on the fence while watching s1, keep going to get to the glowup!

and here's what makes WOT better than ROP:

while they both improve in their second season, imo the first season of WOT is quite a bit better than the first season of ROP (anecdotal evidence: i started both shows as a complete show-only with no prior familiarity with the source material (bar having watched the LOTR movies), and WOT had me hooked by the end of 1x01 whereas ROP i watched 2 episodes and abandoned it for 2 years before coming back for another try and successfully getting hooked)

i'd say the main reason for this is that the story of WOT s1 is fairly simple and small scale and laser-focused on just our 7 main characters who all share a single storyline together (breaking up into 3 sub-storylines for the middle portion of the season, then coming back together again), and it holds off on expanding the scale of the world & story until s2. this was much more effective at getting a newcomer like me assimilated in the world, hooked on the story, and invested in the characters than ROP starting out with a massive sprawling cast and story right off the bat and kind of overwhelming me with too much going on. WOT s1 was also very clear in establishing Here Are The Stakes And Here's Why You Should Care immediately in the pilot episode, whereas i struggled for a while with seeing what the Point of ROP was or why i should care about these characters (because there are too many of them and not enough time spent on any).

WOT is better at character depth and development, in large part because its main cast is about half the size of ROP's so there's just a lot more breathing room. like with ROP, some characters/storylines are naturally more important than others in a given season and thus everyone's prominence ebbs and flows, but unlike ROP, the characters who are in their "off-season" still get proper season-long arcs and never feel like they're getting neglected. no primary WOT character has ever been wholly absent for more than 1 episode per season (except for mat absent from 2 eps in s1 for recasting-related reasons).

following off of that, i'd say WOT is better at handling multiple storylines, because of the above point of fewer characters and also the earlier point that all the characters start together, then separate. this ensures that all the different storylines feel connected to each other, unlike ROP where there are some groups of characters that have never even met anyone else. the Found Family and Power Of Friendship themes are extremely strong in WOT, and the bonds between the core characters are unbreakable! and this makes all the storylines feel connected and cohesive even when they're taking place across the continent.

another similar point: WOT strikes a better balance between epic scale and narrative intimacy. i can't describe this any better or think of specific examples, it's just a Vibe i feel that ROP sometimes gets lost in its own scale whereas WOT always keeps us very firmly anchored in the characters and the personal stakes no matter how vast the world or conflict becomes. i might exemplify this by saying that if you enjoyed the sauron-celebrimbor scenes in s2, you'll love WOT because it is a huge proponent of "2 characters in a room talking to each other" scenes that further the larger plot while also keeping things intimate and personal and fleshing out the characters.

oh also, focal episodes! every season, WOT does 1 or 2 episodes that focus in deeply on one particular main character (different one every time) at a key point in their journey and deliver some amazing in-depth characterwork (while still furthering the story and allotting time to the other characters & storylines too). characters truly are one of the strongest aspects of WOT, both books and show, and i love that the show takes the time to give us episodes like this. it is so so good at balancing character & plot, and understanding that we won't care about the plot unless we care about the characters.

there is a HUGE cast of female characters, and a very varied cast too. the main cast is 50/50 men and women, and the supporting cast is at least 50/50 too if not majority women. in both the source material and the adaptation, women are integral to the story and so many of them are huge players that drive the narrative, rather than feeling like afterthoughts the 2020s adaptation is fruitlessly trying to cram into source material that was not designed for them as is often the case with ROP imo.

branching off of that: one of the major institutions in WOTworld is an all-woman wizard faction, complete with a lady wizard pope. this gives us things like battle scenes and political scheming that's mostly or exclusively between women. it's awesome!

edited to add: might be obvious from the point about there being a lot of women, but WOT also has lots of female friendships! and female mentorships and rivalries and romances too. just so many relationships between women, quite a contrast to nori and poppy struggling to singlehandedly make ROP pass the bechdel test.

canon queer characters and relationships. and queerness is not only present in WOTworld, it's normalized!

and finally, you'll have to wait til s2 to get her, but WOT is better because it has elayne trakand and thus is better than every show that does not have elayne trakand (can you tell who my blorbo is)

[miharuki]

𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐏 195 - EP.05

𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐏 195-masterlist

"It's my bio-ship, Martian style!" Megan says as she steps out of the elevator, heading toward the ship. Wally turns to Robin and remarks, "Cute, not aerodynamic, but cute."

Megan laughs before approaching the ship, smiling. "She's at rest, silly. I'll wake her up." She raises her hand, and the ship rapidly shifts shape, becoming larger and more ship-like than before, leaving everyone shocked—except you. You'd seen this ship so many times across timelines that you knew every inch of it by heart. It was boring.

"Well, are you coming?" Megan asks as a door opens at the back of the ship. Everyone enters nervously, and you sigh, watching them board. Renjichiro, perched on your shoulder, laughs in your mind as he observes the scene. "Kukuku, this is getting interesting. You knew this would happen, didn't you?" the mystical creature says, twitching his paw.

"Unfortunately, I have to go. We're fighting again today, and I have to make sure no one dies this time," you say with a tsk as you walk toward the ship. Renjichiro jumps off your shoulder and sits on the ground, watching you enter.

"Buckle up for launch," Megan says as seats form inside the ship. Everyone grins, throwing themselves into the chairs as seatbelts secure them safely. "Red Tornado, please open the doors." The cave doors slide open, and the ship takes off. You lean back in your seat, watching the landscape rush by.

"Incredible," Robin says, admiring the ship before Wally chimes in dreamily, "She sure is." Megan gives him a confused look before Wally quickly corrects himself, "I mean, the ship. Which, like all ships, is a 'she.'" You sigh and pull out your MP4—something you always carried to tune out the team when needed. You plug in your earphones and stare at the view, praying for this to be over soon.

"(Hero) will change their mind," Robin whispers, glancing at Megan, who looks at you with guilt and sadness. "Seems like they don't like me much," Megan whispers back, her expression still downcast as she watches you ignore everyone, swaying your leg to the music. Then, you feel a vibration and quickly stash your MP4, knowing it was time to act.

The team lands in the parking lot. You immediately assess the situation, rolling your eyes before sprinting after them. When no one's looking, you press a button on your choker. The light flashes, and Renjichiro leaps from the ground, materializing beside you. "What's the move?" he asks.

"No time, furry," you think, raising your hand. Renjichiro spits out the yo-yo into your palm before hopping onto your shoulder. You quickly pull a blindfold from your pocket, tying it over your eyes before removing your glasses and stashing them away.

You could only use the powers the creature granted you while in costume. Without it, you could only wield the weapon—and only if he was nearby. You flick the yo-yo, snagging Robin's leg and yanking him back just before a beam crashes down, saving him. You sprint to catch up with the team, the yo-yo retracting from the boy's leg.

"My apologies. You may call me Mister Twister," the villain says before blasting Superboy into a wall with a tornado. You take a deep breath, watching your team try to attack the robot. You recall all the timelines where you'd fought him—Megan usually won. Studying him, you deduce that cutting the blue cables would likely strip his power.

But just as you're about to throw the yo-yo to climb higher, you see Kaldur thrown aside. Obviously, you save him first.

You whip your yo-yo at pillars, collapsing them onto the robot before sprinting to catch Kaldur, creating a net with the yo-yo between the wreckage. "Thanks, (Hero)." You don't even respond, already running back out—only to see Megan, now speaking excitedly:

"Hello, Megan! Mister Twister is the Red Tornado in disguise! He's inorganic. An android. And how many androids do you know that can generate tornadoes?"

You roll your eyes at the stupidity before muttering, "By that logic, Superboy is Superman in disguise." But Robin cuts you off, declaring loudly, "Red Tornado sent us here after saying we'd be tested soon. This is his test! Something to keep us busy!"

"He's NOT Red Tornado!" you shout, but they ignore you, charging at the villain. You clench your fists, hearing Renjichiro laugh at you. Then, you bolt as the villain summons a massive tornado.

Hiding in the trees, you watch the team get thrown back. Once Mister Twister leaves, you stealthily chase after him. You wouldn't let the team's idiocy stop you from taking him down. Darting between trees, leaping and sprinting, you leave the team behind.

Meanwhile, the team gets up, watching the villain flee. "What happened?" Wally asks, looking at Megan.

"I put the Bio-Ship between us."

Superboy punches rocks in frustration. "And that fixes things? You tricked us into thinking Twister was Red Tornado!" He steps in front of Megan, joined by the others.

"She didn't mean to," Kaldur says, trying to defuse the situation.

"It was a rookie mistake," Robin adds. "We shouldn't have listened."

"You're too inexperienced. We should've listened to (Hero). Speaking of, where is (Hero)?" Wally asks, hands in his pockets, scanning the area angrily.

Megan, still sitting on the ground, looks at them. "Stay out of it. We'll handle this from here," Wally finishes, hands on his hips before walking off. Superboy passes without a glance. "Stay out of our way."

Robin shoulders past Wally. "Let's find (Hero)." The three run off, leaving Megan and Kaldur behind.

"I was just trying to be part of the team," Megan says guiltily, staring at the ground.

"To be honest, I'm not sure we even have a team," Kaldur replies before leaving her alone.

Back with you—you weave through the crowd before spotting a cop. You snatch his megaphone with the yo-yo and bolt into the mass of people. Clearing your throat, you speak firmly into the megaphone:

"GET OUT OF HERE!"

The amplified sound vibrates through the air, laced with power. Only about 6 to 12 people are affected, but it's enough—those under your command start pulling the others to safety.

Exhausted, you force yourself to keep running after the villain, megaphone in hand. You shake it violently, releasing the residual vibrations—like an invisible whip of air—that blast the ship Twister had thrown, diverting it from the crowd. Blood drips from your nose. The megaphone sparks. But the villain is still alive. Still there. Still watching you.

You sprint as he hurls a tornado at you. The creature on your shoulder doesn't move, just flicks his tail like he doesn't care—because he doesn't. He's incapable of emotion.

Hidden, you see Twister's back turned. Seizing the moment, you hurl the yo-yo with force. The cord wraps around one of his tubes. You sprint, looping the other end around a ship he'd thrown earlier. He struggles to tear free as you pull, your hands burning even through your gloves.

"(Hero)!" Someone calls, but you focus on the cord.

Finally, one of the villain's cables rips loose. The yo-yo snaps back, sending you flying. Wally catches you, but you shove him away and charge at Twister.

You rejoin the group as the villain flails, now only able to use one hand for tornadoes.

"Listen, all of you," Megan telepathically broadcasts. You clutch your head. "What did I say, damn it?!" The psychic vibration worsens your headache—like slamming your skull into glass while blades dig into your brain. Your veins throb.

"I know, and I know I messed up. But now I understand what we need to do," Megan pleads.

You double over, gripping your head. "Get out! NOW!"

"Please, trust me."

Robin, beside you and Wally, notices more blood dripping from your nose. He reaches for your shoulder. "(Hero)—"

You smack his hand away before he touches you. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" Your voice trembles with rage. More blood flows. You keep your head down, breathing hard.

With a yell, you throw the yo-yo again, latching onto Twister's damaged arm. You yank hard, preventing him from throwing another ship, buying time for people to escape. Maybe it's adrenaline or fury—you don't know—but you use all your strength to slam him to the ground. You collapse too.

Dazed, you see the crowd standing frozen. Then, you notice Red Tornado approaching—except it's not him. You know. He flies without tornadoes at his feet, his body and size are different. You sigh and sit back, letting the others handle it now. You're exhausted. The pain is unbearable.

You stand once it's over, clutching your head, breathing through your mouth—your nose clogged with blood. One of the drawbacks of using powers without the suit. Your ears ring. Kaldur tries to help, but you slap his hands away. You can't stand their touch. Not now.

Back in the cave, you grab your bag, pulling out headache pills. Dry-swallowing them, you sling the bag over your shoulder and head for the Zeta Tube.

"Where are you going?" Robin asks.

You flip him off. "To heaven."

And with that, you teleport home.

Megan watches you leave, guilt in her eyes. Wally puts a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry. (Hero) will be fine. They always are.

[melk-maid]

warnings: everyone is aged up 21+, afab/gn reader, major canon divergence, wet dreams, piv sex, dream sex, oral, alcohol consumption, mentions of an accident and injuries, mentioning of character death synopsis: you can't stop dreaming everynight about fucking an incredibly handsome and beautiful man, feeling an intense connection to him but you can't seem to place where you know him from.

note: this is a reupload! enjoy~♡ minors & ageless blogs dni - you will be blocked

The mind is a funny thing. It controls everything you do, dictates everything you say, feel, think. It’s a core part of everyone and works in such mysterious ways. 

It feels like you’d just opened your eyes from sleeping, yet already awake. There’s no drowsiness but you hardly remember anything that happened until now. Your mind is hazy but everything feels so light and airy.

When you begin to focus, the room bleeds with details that feel familiar. Colourful posters decorate the plain, cream walls, a cork board that’s home to photo booth cards and various hanging trinkets. 

Moving is difficult for some reason but you don’t fret. It feels like your body weighs a ton, as though your blood was made of concrete and trying to lift your torso to sit up was a strenuous task you couldn’t achieve. Normally this would be cause for concern, enough to send you into a state of panic, however your heart remained calm. 

There’s not much else in the room you can see from this position besides a desk and closet doors. You’ve come to realise you’re laid in bed and finally you can feel the sheets beneath you. So soft and comforting, they too feel oddly familiar but you can’t seem to pinpoint why.

When you focus again, you notice the thrum of dull pleasure that flows through your body. Waves of ecstasy wash over you, the feeling slowly amplifying the more you think about it. Then you realise there’s a weight on you, hands that hold you in place and a body between your legs. 

Oh.

It doesn’t matter who’s pleasuring you with their mouth but you’d love to interact with them, even if it is only a dream. It’s mildly embarrassing (only to you) that you’d noticed so late, though you try and acknowledge your realistic dream in hopes you’d gain a semblance of control — only your mind doesn’t cooperate and it’s still impossible to move. 

You want to thread your fingers through their hair, to tug on it and hear them moan into your clit, grind your hips into their face as they suck on your clit. They’re doing a good job so far and you can’t seem to express that. Opening your mouth was the easy part, getting something out was hard. It’s on the tip of your tongue; praise, gratitude, instructions, a moan. Much like your veins being full of concrete, it feels like your lungs are suffering the same fate. 

Eventually, the stranger makes an appearance leaning over you. A man with long, dark locks and gorgeous purple eyes hovers in your line of sight and your heart just about stops. The ends of his hair tickle your chest, cascading over his shoulder like a waterfall, eyes forming crescent moons as he smiles. He too feels familiar, but you can’t say you’ve ever seen him in your life. 

The weight of him pressed between your legs is just as delicious as his mouth, rocking his hips slowly into you to keep that spark of adrenaline going. You think he’s warm, even if it’s a dream. When he leans in to kiss you, it might be one of the greatest moments of your life. 

Warm, comforting, you can taste a tinge of yourself on his tongue. You move together naturally, you knew his every move like it was common knowledge. The act made your heart swell, a happiness you haven’t felt in so long. Nothing matters beyond this moment, this man is everything to you, even if you don’t know who he is. 

Finally you’re able to moan into his mouth as his tongue slides across yours, a noise that seems to encourage him. He shuffles between your legs, lips still pressed together as he guides himself into you. Another noise the man swallows is your pleasant gasp, sparks of lightning thumping through you at the feeling of utter fullness. 

You feel breathless. Airy, light, so completely and utterly—

Awake from the sound of your alarm. 

It takes a moment to realise what has happened, what is happening. Your thighs are sticky and the thrum of pleasure still lingers in your fingertips. A grown adult and you were having a wet dream, how shameful. 

Some people dream and others don’t — alongside the fact some people remember their dreams and for others they’re a distant and foggy memory. Typically you don’t dream and on the odd occasion you do, it’s the latter and you move on with your day. 

Except you couldn’t get that damn man out of your thoughts. He plagued you all morning as you showered away your sins, commuted to work and sent out a handful of boring emails that had been waiting for you overnight. You’d be falling asleep at your desk if it weren’t for him and the periodical pulse of your clit at the thought of pleasure. It feels like you hardly slept a wink last night — probably because your brain was too busy conjuring up these images to excite you while you slept. 

Your computer monitor buzzes as the Word document before you blinks, half empty and begging you to do your job and send it away for someone else to look at. If you thought you’d get away with it, you’d sneak away for a power nap in the bathroom. 

It nags at you that you know that man from somewhere — you must have seen him before. You read somewhere that your mind can’t create new faces, everyone you see in your dreams is someone you’ve seen before, even those you’ve passed in the street once. He feels familiar though, like you have a connection somehow. It’s as though you’ve seen that face hundreds of times before, felt his touch and tasted those kisses, committed it all to memory. Yet it feels hazy and untrue, you can’t seem to find the correct files in your mind to determine who he is. 

You texted your friend for a pick-me-up when no one was looking. All you need is someone to talk to, maybe indirectly air out your dream just to laugh about it. Nanami was quick to respond and agree, which you expected because it’s his favourite place to eat. 

“Didn’t sleep last night?” He comments before you could even take off your coat, causing you to huff and reluctantly smile. 

“Do I look that bad?” You ask as you hang your coat on the back of your chair, sitting down with a sigh and pulling the menu book towards yourself. 

Nanami smiles behind his coffee. “Would it be impolite of me to say yes?” 

Looking up at him from behind the menu and under your brow, you hum in disapproval but he takes it in stride. You are quick to decide what you want — your usual — and stop pretending you’re interested in anything else. 

“I was dreaming all night so I didn’t get much rest.” 

“Nightmares?” He raises an eyebrow when you shake your head. 

“No…” Your heart flutters at the images that flash through your mind, the memories of a story your mind created. “Just…Dreams.” 

Nanami is quick to drop the topic after your cautious answer, of which you are and aren’t grateful for. You thought it would be easier to slide the topic past him, to laugh at such a crude thing, but now that you’re here and his harsh yet soft features unintentionally bore into you, you’ve grown nervous and embarrassed. 

Instead, the conversation moves to your office jobs. He works elsewhere to you, though you met when you were both in school. You don’t remember much of anything from your teenage years but you do know you’ve been friends for a long time. It’s easy to talk to Nanami about your office woes, the emails and incapable workers and insane deadlines and so many emails. 

Frustratingly enough, the man of your dreams (literally) was still lingering in the back of your mind as you ate. 

“Do you dream, Nanami?”

While you expected him to raise an eyebrow at your question and respond with one of his own, he seems to be in deep thought contemplating an answer. In an attempt to ease the anxiety that sits in your chest, you avoid his eyeline and stuff yourself with food just a little too fast. 

“Not often.” He finally responds and it’s enough to satisfy you just a little. “When I do, I'm usually tired, just like you.” 

You never did mention any of the details about your dream, nor did the topic come up again for fear of being judged. 

You didn’t think you’d be back so soon. 

As though you’d blinked and awoke again, you are looking over at what seems to be a common room. It’s too big and casual to be a personal living room, the kotatsu adorned with too many mugs and glasses to house a couple of people. Everything feels familiar again but it sits on the tip of your tongue. The half drank glass of soda feels like it’s commonplace, along with the novelty cat mug on the other side. 

Soon you realise you’re leaning over a kitchen counter, purposely bent over with the pressure of someone else right behind you. The pleasure sets in again much like it had before; dull, slowly growing with intensity the more you think about it, pieces falling into place the more you focus. This time moans fall easily from your lips, a natural reaction to the feeling of ecstasy that flows through your veins. Dropping your head between your shoulders and leaning against the cool counter, you arch your back and move to meet the rhythm of the stranger behind you. 

“Fuck…” You moan – the sound was distorted, barely a whisper and you wonder for a moment if you actually vocalised it. 

The person behind you leans over, draping their larger body over yours. It’s an act that brings warmth into your chest, makes you feel safe and comforted, like a warm and sexy blanket that’s fucking you in short strokes. It feels real this time compared to the last. You feel like you’re actually being fucked into the kitchen counter like this, even if you don’t know where these ideas have come from. 

When lips lean in to find your neck, you instinctively move to give them more access, tightening around their cock when they suck on your sensitive skin. You hiss and moan, moving your hips back and leaning further into the counter below, relaxing your whole body and letting them take control. 

After they pull away and begin kissing your cheek, you take your opportunity to look at your mysterious sex partner – somehow shocked to see the man from your dreams again. 

You expected it to be him– no, you were hoping it would be him. All through the day you couldn’t stop thinking about him or the dream, the softness of his eyes and his sharp nose, the way his tongue glided over yours – he was sickeningly addictive, so this would be the best outcome, right?

Moving took a lot of energy but you managed it, pushing back with little resistance from your dream man. It still feels like your body weighs a ton when you’re moving on your own accord. You gasp and groan to yourself as you stand up, turning around in the small space you’re trapped in between the counter and the mystery man. 

He’s just as gorgeous as the first time you saw him, and the second time in your head, and the third and the fourth…

Your mouth hangs open to speak but this time nothing comes out. It feels like your voice box has been removed, furrowing your eyebrows in frustration. His touch is soft around your waist and the motion brings sparks of life with him, a comfort that feels natural, even when it shouldn’t. You still can’t place him in your life but you’re sure he’s been with you forever. 

The man before you chuckles, a sound that creates butterflies in your stomach, using gentle fingers to press your mouth shut with a soft click.

Those hands around your waist tighten for a moment, pulling you up from the floor with ease and sliding you onto the counter where you were once leaning. Strangely enough you don’t fight him. There’s a sense of safety in this man’s arms and it’s not solely because this is your dream. Something about him is eating away at you, the sense of familiarity, as though you’ve played out this scenario before; a memory rather than a something you’ve created. 

He slots himself between your open legs, feeling his hard cock brush against your thigh and tickle your stomach, you flex and giggle at the sensation. It’s natural when your arms wrap around his neck, hanging loosely over his shoulders with your lips so dangerously close. His hot breath fans your face and you gasp quietly as his cock slides into you again, a delicious and welcomed stretch, and he takes the invitation to slide his tongue into your mouth. 

Despite the tiredness in your bones, you’re having a good time at the karaoke bar with friends. Your work clothes cling to you after the long day, mildly uncomfortable no matter how much you try to relax, attempting to physically and mentally let your hair down. Friday evening and your work week is over. 

You watch Gojo belt out lyrics of a song you don’t recognise, completely free and uncaring of anyone else in the room — especially Utahime scowling in the corner. It’s amusing that he’s the only truly sober person here and the most willing to utilise the microphone, putting on the performance of a lifetime for the others who are trying to get drunk and wind down or ignore him completely. 

The room is full of friends you’ve known for years, including Ijichi, Shoko and Nanami; you met everyone in high school as teenagers and have been a friend group since. All five of them spend almost everyday together working in the same office — you never got the memo apparently. Still, you were invited for a few rounds and some songs at the karaoke bar to wind down with them all, even if your workplace was a little further than around the block. 

Taking a sip of your drink, your mind finds itself wandering back to the man of your dreams. 

Every given moment he’s on your mind. If you relax for a moment without any distractions, he’s there again, smiling at you and creating a tight knot in your abdomen. Everyday this week you’ve seen him overnight in different scenarios, yet they’re always the same; you wake up, you realise you’re being pleasured sexually, you see him again and that same sense of comfort washes over you until you wake up. Having wet dreams is great when they’re not every single night. You’re tired and it feels like you haven’t slept at all. 

Through the flashing rainbow lights that dance along the room, you catch Nanami’s eye from the adjacent couch, smiling when he visibly sighs and finishes the rest of his drink then and there. 

He had almost a full glass. 

Without thinking about it, you move to sit next to him, a little drunk and a little too close as you brush your thigh against his and lean into him to talk over the music. “Can I tell you something?”

Nanami looks at you from the corner of his eye with scepticism — of which you responded to with a sleazy smile. You already laid down the groundwork of your problem to him earlier this week, so giving him an update shouldn’t be too jarring. 

“I’ve been having non-stop wet dreams all fucking week.” 

Sputtering on the empty drink, Nanami almost drops the glass in his hand and quickly sets it on the table to avoid disaster. He hadn’t anticipated that or for you to say it so bluntly, caught off guard by your confession, he composed himself but can’t seem to look at you. 

“Okay. Is that a good or a bad thing?” He asks cautiously, trying to remain polite but his eyes can’t seem to find yours as he speaks. 

You laugh and nudge his shoulder with yours, you were hoping the couple of beers would’ve loosened him up just like you. It wasn’t serious or a suggestion, just maybe looking for some support or guidance from another person who knew the brief history. 

“It’s good, I think.” You finish off your drink, watching as Nanami orders both of you another round on the tablet. “It’s been nice but…I feel like I recognise the guy in the dream but I don’t know where.” 

He nods briefly, trying to think of how to respond. You’re not sure what you expected since he’s not living in your head and what you’re looking for is unclear to even you. 

“A movie or show? New coworker you’ve only seen in passing?” 

You immediately know the answer, but indulge in Nanami by looking like you were thinking it over, shaking your head briefly with a dramatic sigh. “No, I don’t think so. It’s not often you see someone like him, so I would recognise him, I would’ve thought.” You continue. “He has really long dark hair, it’s half tied up with a cute little bang hanging down in front of his face — oh and he has the most gorgeous purple eyes and the softest smile I’ve seen on anyone.” 

It takes a moment for you to notice how stiff Nanami had gotten, frozen on the spot as his heart raced from your description. How do you not remember who the man is, yet you’re dreaming about him? It doesn’t make sense…

“Nanami? Do you know who I’m talking about?” 

Staff had entered the room with a drink delivery and Nanami almost threw away all his manners to grab his glass from the tray as quickly as possible. He mutters an apology as the woman bows after her surprise, leaving the room after setting down all the room's orders. You watch as Nanami gulps his drink, as though he needed the distraction, something to ease his conscience. 

The glass is lowered with an uncharacteristically loud hiss, placed back on the table and Nanami leans in close to your ear. “You should talk to Gojo.” 

And with that, he left the room after bidding a speedy farewell to the group. 

Burying your hands deeper in your pockets and dipping your nose behind the soft scarf wrapped around your neck, you lock your jaw to suppress a yawn and wait for Gojo’s lead. 

Despite the continued satisfying dreams, you’re still so fucking tired. Even without work and trying to catch up on sleep, it feels like something — or someone — keeps stealing your good nights rest. Last night you slept for twelve hours and it feels like you hardly got four. The dream man has been weighing heavily on your mind since Friday evening when you mentioned it to Nanami, still confused and worried with the way he left so quickly — he assured you it wasn’t anything you’d said or done, but it was definitely related. 

A chilly Sunday afternoon spent with Gojo isn’t the worst, though you’d rather be hanging out in a quiet cafe or shopping for something fun instead of wandering around the city for a stamp rally. “Where else do we need to go?” You ask passively, looking at the leaflet in Gojo’s hand out the corner of your eye. 

For a few moments he doesn’t respond, hardly even moves to show you he’s alive. Dark, square glasses are perched on his nose to shield his eyes from the world, and for a second you wonder if he’d even heard you. “There’s a couple more Family Mart locations we need to go to on the other side of the city,” He says finally with a smile, “Then I should have redeemed everything possible.” 

The leaflet is quickly folded again and slid back into his pocket, allowing him to lead the way towards the next location. Neither your mind or your heart was in the activity, and Gojo knew that from the start. Still, you trailed beside him and weaved through the busy streets of Akihabara, desperately trying to stir up a flawless plan that will get you the answers you want. The dream man didn’t seem like much of an issue at first, just something your mind had made up, until Nanami had such a strange reaction to your details. At worst, Gojo will have an equally weird response and dodge your questions – an act he is a master of. 

Inhaling deep and as quietly as possible, you start, “I’ve been having dreams lately…” It’s a good sign when Gojo hums in response, clearly half interested when beelining towards the next location. “I mentioned it to Nanami the other day and he told me to talk to you.” 

He huffed a laugh, glancing over at you from behind his glasses. “I can’t imagine why. I don’t dream about anything; it’s not like I’m an expert on the subject.” 

“I don’t know,” You respond a little defensive, “I told him I’ve been having dreams every night and it’s always the same guy in them.” Gojo wiggles his eyebrows over his glasses, a stupid grin spread across his lips. You scoff and nudge him with your shoulder, dipping your head in mild embarrassment. “Shut up.”

The conversation doesn’t progress as you both enter the Family Mart, greeted with the familiar ding and call from staff welcoming you to the store as they tend to their duties. Thankfully this location is tucked away and less busy than some of the others, easing the embarrassment of someone unintentionally eavesdropping on your conversation. 

Gojo finds the stamp set up by the door, pulling out a different piece of paper from his pocket and flattening it for inking. You watch with a pit in your stomach, hoping that he would’ve given you a proper response rather than brushing you off with his stupid, childish demeanour. He’s your friend and he’s supposed to be supporting you in your time of need, not focusing on his goddamn stamps to collect free sweets and stickers. 

“I told Nanami what the guy looks like and then he got weird with me.” You continue, leaning into the station and in turn Gojo, looking around to make sure no one could hear. “Long black hair, it’s always half up in a bun with a side bang, big black earrings, purple eyes…”

It happened again. 

Gojo visibly stiffens, a shift in the air. He holds onto the stamp against the paper longer than necessary for a small, round design and you furrow your eyebrows at him. He knows something, the same as Nanami and neither of them will tell you what any of this means. It’s too strange and consistent to be a coincidence, but you can’t figure out why you can’t get any answers on who this guy is. You’re beginning to worry he’s a criminal or worse, a long lost relative. 

A switch flipped and Gojo moved again with natural fluidity, like he wasn’t paralysed for a solid thirty seconds. The stamp is removed to show an overly inked design and slotted back into its holder, the sheet of paper held up to be admired. “I have no idea.” 

You sigh, literally deflating and clenching your fists in your pockets, holding yourself back from grabbing him by the collar and demanding answers. You should’ve expected this. 

“It sure doesn’t seem that way…”

“The brain is weird.” Gojo says with a smile, though it’s clear he’s trying to act as normal as he possibly can. There’s an inclination in his tone that’s just a little off; he definitely knows something. “It makes up everything for you, even stuff that’s not useful or meaningful to you – you know that, right?” He blows on the splotchy ink to dry it as quickly as possible. “Dreams are just your mind making up stories to keep you entertained while you sleep.”

Before you could mutter another word, Gojo was quick to leave the store with the dried stamp sheet in his pocket. He didn’t care if you had kept up with him or not – it seemed like he would be grateful if you didn’t care to follow anymore. You frown and frustration bubbles within, unwilling to give up as you rush to follow. Although not convinced of his answer, you refrain from bringing up the subject again. 

Like clockwork, the man of your dreams is here again.

This time, you're sitting in his lap, hips rocking slowly as you bounce. It fills your heart with warmth, that connection you feel to this mysterious entity is greater than before — you'd dare to say it might even be love. After fucking in your dreams every night and haunted by his presence in your memories throughout the day, it shouldn't be much of a surprise you've grown fond of him, but it doesn't feel so artificial. Maybe your mind is telling you that you do know him, there's a reason Nanami and Gojo are acting so strange.

For a moment you allow yourself to enjoy bliss. Big, strong hands hold you at your waist and let you move as you wish, though his grip reminds you he's still in control. A little too slow or a little too fast, he's squeezing supple flesh and guiding you how he needs you, hips thrusting up to meet yours with a delicious slap of skin. At this angle he's hitting every sweet spot you have, buried so deep it feels like he can reach your lungs. The room feels familiar again, still unable to place exactly where you are; it's an office, that much you can be sure of with the large desk in the centre of the room and abundance of shelves and books. It feels formal, an important space where maybe you shouldn't be on the couch fucking.

Your dream man smiles at you when you turn to him again, a sweet and sultry sight. Every dream you try to talk to him, to say something worthy of a response — instead, all you can ever muster are moans of pleasure as your pussy is fucked and eaten over and over again. Your mouth hangs open, trying to speak but the words are lodged in your throat, stuck behind the boulder that seems to appear whenever you try to focus. He's never spoken to you either, but it's unlikely that he has the same struggle as you.

His mouth is slotted over yours with ease, tongue licking into yours and you swallow his angelic moan with great enthusiasm. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you pull him tighter into you — chest to chest, clothed this time, embracing the dream-like warmth as he remains buried deep inside of you.

When you pull away, you try again and again. The man watches with almost smug glee as you try desperately, opening and closing your mouth and swallowing down the large obstruction that keeps you from talking. He raises his eyebrows with a grin, squeezing your waist in a form of encouragement. Holding his breath and mouth agape, your dream man watches and waits to see if you'll finally mutter something out.

"Who are you?"

It falls from your lips unnaturally, stuttered out like you were speaking for the first time in centuries. Foreign to your ears but it's undeniable that those were your words. Your dream man laughs, holding back a cheer that you did it.

"Suguru." He purrs and it feels like a stab to the chest — you have no idea why.

"Suguru…?" You parrot back to him, holding back a moan as he shifts ever so slightly inside of you, hard cock brushing against your walls and sending dull waves of pleasure through your hazy mind. The name doesn't feel as strange on your tongue, rather quite natural; as though you've said it thousands, maybe millions of times before.

He hums, "I love hearing you say my name." Suguru's voice is like silk, so luxurious and soft. "You're so beautiful when you say it."

One of the hands around your waist comes up to pet your hair, so gentle that it sends pleasant shivers down your spine. The way he threads his fingers through your locks is so easy, thumb pressing against your cheek while he takes in your visual. You can't help but lean into it, smiling and holding onto his wrist to keep him in place. There's so much love shared between you that it feels impossible to have only just learnt this man's name.

Turning to kiss the palm of his hand, you mumble against his skin, "Suguru who?"

His grin widens from the adoring smirk he wore, all teeth and secrets, his eyes remain as soft as ever when they look at you. "You should ask Satoru, baby."

'We need to talk NOW'

The text burns a hole through Gojo's phone almost literally — he can feel your unbridled rage through a few words and after inviting you over, tries to recall what you could possibly be so upset with him about. Even when he opens his door to you with a bright and cheeky smile, you glare up at him with the fury of a thousand beasts.

"You can only come in if you give me a smile."

"Gojo I will kill you, infinity be damned I will find a way — now let me in." You growl and Gojo doesn't tempt fate more than he already has, relenting and stepping aside for you to walk through the door, still smiling and hoping to casually charm his way out of whatever he did this time.

"Who is Suguru?" You blurt out once you'd stormed your way into the living room, standing in the centre and folding your arms across your chest. Bile threatens to emerge just speaking his name aloud — there's something about it that brings about pleasant yet horrible feelings, boils your blood with frustration because you can't seem to figure out how you know this man.

The name bounces off of the walls and into Gojo's ears as he follows you, struggling to hide his features without any obstructions over his eyes or a tall jacket to hide the upturn at the corner of his lips. "Tea?" He offers, instead of an explanation.

"Answers, Gojo."

His face falls, stiff as a board and visibly closing up on you. While he remains in the living room, you are full of so many questions and frustration it's hard to get anything out.

"I…I keep dreaming about this guy, Suguru is all I know. I don't know if this is some — stupid weird shit going on in my head or I'm actually insane or there's a ghost that talks to me in my sleep but…!" You release the breath you'd been holding, filling your lungs again instantly. "I didn't think much about it until both you and Nanami freaked out when I mentioned what he looked like. Why do you guys know him and I don't?" Watching as Gojo avoids your line of sight, you groan and run your hands through your hair in frustration. "He — my brain, my dream, whatever told me to ask you specifically. Suguru said specifically 'ask Satoru'; I'm begging you to tell me what you know."

You expected Gojo to fight back, keep his lips sealed so tight that not even the temptation of his favourite sweets would get him to talk. Nanami's number was ready and waiting on your phone screen for when you leave, determined to get an answer from either of them one way or another.

Instead, he laughs. Shoulders deflating and head hanging low, he laughs to himself.

"I knew this would happen someday but not like this!" You blink once, twice. Is this all a joke? "Come with me, I want you to see something."

When you came here you were expecting a verbal (and possibly physical) brawl. You were pumped up and ready to fight for what you want, but since Gojo isn't matching your energy in a way that makes sense, you're left just as deflated — the difference is that you're nervous and scared, rather than his relaxed demeanour. Gojo disappears into the hallway, waiting by one of the doors for you to follow. Standing at the doorway to the living room you eyed him suspiciously, looking more like a scared child than the brazen bull you entered as. He didn't mind much, not bothering to tease you about it and instead offered his typical cheeky smile as he called for you to follow.

You watch at the entry of what looks to be a spare bedroom turned office as Gojo clambers through various items in the closet. He mumbles to himself as he slides things back and forth, looking for something on the top shelf he can easily reach. "Found it." Gojo announces, dragging out a big plastic box deep within. He huffs with its weight, readjusting his grip with it balanced on his knee for a moment and seeming to juggle with the item by himself — he'd tortured you enough that he doesn't deserve your help.

"Take a seat, relax." Gojo nods his head towards the desk chair, throwing the items that fell in his search back into the closet.

Despite your apprehension, you sit where instructed and watch Gojo drop the plastic box in front of you. Looking up at him, he motions with his hands for you to open the box yourself, taking a step back and leaning against the adjacent wall. You're scared to look inside — you trust Gojo as your friend but something about this makes you uneasy. The secrets, the feelings, what will you find out opening this box?

Part of you expects there to maybe be a dead body, even corpse pieces or a reptile or mouldy food inside. Shaky hands pop open the plastic lid and you're greeted with a bunch of paper. A layer of it scattered across the top of the box, sheets folded in numerous ways and some more worn than others. Picking one up, you recognise your handwriting instantly. It's a letter it seems, addressed to 'Sugubear' and signed off by you. The first line feels familiar but you can’t place it, a distant memory but you recognise it, almost like when you first started seeing Suguru in your dreams. You open another folded piece of paper and another; most of them are someone’s handwriting you don't recognise but it's far better than yours, elegant and practised, always addressed to you and signed by Suguru.

There's a strange feeling in your chest that's so difficult to describe. A flurry of emotions, all of it bundled together inside a bottle of confusion — you don't know what to think. You don't remember any of these letters and at the same time you do, it feels like you should remember them. Much like a word on the tip of your tongue that you can't seem to find, you feel like you should know these letters.

Beneath the paper are birthday and new years cards, all signed by Suguru. That same intricate handwriting wishing you well, signing his name with such elegance it would make anyone jealous. It feels like you're getting closer. The golden tassels of a red card are delicate under your fingertips and you know this feeling more than any other time you've given and received cards. There's happiness in your heart, flashes of glee.

Your heart races to the point it aches. A part of you doesn't want to look anymore — curiosity killed the cat and you're no longer as curious as you once were. There's so much love and happiness in all these letters, why do you feel so much grief looking at it all? Without reading everything one by one, you already know that you were in love with this man, what happened?

A large photo album sits in the centre of the box, one that has been staring at you since you uncovered the first letter. Black leather, it's sleek and expensive looking, a cherished item that's been rotting away in a plastic box. Your chest grows tight when fingertips dance along the edges of the book, scared to find out what's inside.

The first photo that greets you is one of you and Suguru, the man in your dreams. Smiling at the camera cheek to cheek, it looks like a selfie before phone cameras were such a staple. You both look younger in this photo, almost like you were teenagers. Flipping through the book, there's multiple photos of you both in here. Another is a candid shot that someone else took, you sat in Suguru's lap at what looks to be a party, based on the alcoholic can in your hand. Other pictures you're feeding each other in a restaurant, grainy photos but it seems smart phones had evolved since the first dozen pages. More pictures of you and Suguru show you both wearing what look to be school uniforms, tailored a little differently to one another but you’re still a little old to be students.

You furrow your brows when you see the next photo; it's a group shot that includes Gojo, Shoko, Nanami and all your other friends with you and Suguru. At least that explains why Gojo and Nanami reacted like they did, however you're still frustrated with their secrecy. The answer is on the tip of your tongue, the memories of this man are so close within reach.

It clicks when you see the cherry blossoms. Suguru stood before you cradling your cheek, that loving smile on his face while you laughed at the gust of wind that blew pink petals across your face. It was a sweet moment — you felt like you were in an anime. You loved this photo Utahime had taken so much that you framed it and kept it on your nightstand for years.

Clearly Suguru was your boyfriend and all the puzzle pieces clicked into place. The memories of this moment come flooding back into your mind, an overwhelming sensation that draws tears into your eyes. It's hard to breathe but you can't stop looking, even if teardrops land on the clear plastic protecting lost memories. Your boyfriend who you'd spent your late teens dating, continuing into your early adult life together. Forgetting such a big part of your life is harrowing but you're grateful to have them back.

Closing the book you return to the box, picking out a little plushie tucked in between other various memories. It's an animal mascot from an anime that was popular at the time, but you remember it was so fluffy and soft. Suguru won it for you in the arcade, the first thing he'd ever gotten you since you'd begun dating, worn and squished because you'd sleep with it whenever Suguru was away on missions.

On missions.

They don't work at a fucking office. None of your friends work at an office, they work at your old school where you met. You used to work at that school — a school for jujutsu sorcerers. You're a jujutsu sorcerer, born with a unique ability and you're working a fucking office job because you forgot everything. Everything continues falling into place the more you look, the more dots you connect and realise just how much was lost. It's hard not to be angry at your friends for lying to you, but they'd hidden such a huge part of your life for what reason?

You're fully sobbing now, burying your face into the worn plushie and savouring the comfort it offers. It's painful how different your life used to be.

"There was an accident." Gojo finally speaks up, though it's not exactly the best time, you hold your breath. "Both you and Suguru." You don't recognise his voice, so low and serious it's almost like there's pain behind it. He had made peace with what happened long ago. "All three of us were out on a mission and it was too much. If it weren't for Suguru, you'd be dead."

Fragments of the incident try to make their place in your mind; all you can claw at is the feeling of grief, fear that tore through you, although you can't be sure if that's a memory or something you made up. Much like everything else, it feels familiar but distant.

"He sacrificed himself for you but you still took a serious hit to the head, one that Shoko couldn't salvage." He continues and finally, you look at him. Leaning against the wall, his head is low and arms crossed over his chest. You don't remember any of this, so you can only begin to imagine how painful it is to recall it all. "You were left with memory loss that only worsened over time. Whenever any of us brought up Suguru or being a sorcerer, you'd lose it."

That…you kind of remember. The accident is still a hazy fog, you're not sure if you even want it back. All the emotions still linger in your heart.

"You'd get angry and isolate yourself, it had all of us worried when you'd threaten us or yourself so, we pretended like none of it ever happened."

You brush your thumbs over the sewn in thread that decorates the plushie, soaking worn fur with your hot tears. It doesn't matter anymore, but you're full of regret for putting any of your friends through that.

"That box was yours. I found you a few times going through everything inside of it and it only drove you further away from us, so I kept it here with me instead." There's an apology on your lips, whispered into the plush you buried your face into. "We all pretended to be regular people like you, just so you could keep going like Suguru wanted."

Your uncontrollable wails return, shutting off any more information from Gojo entirely. It hurts, all of it hurts so much but it’s so freeing. As though you're grieving your lost love all over again, you fall into Gojo's arms when he approaches and pulls you into a hug, allowing you to get everything out of your system much like he had years prior.

"I'm sorry," You hiccup between pitiful sobs, "I'm so sorry."

Gojo laughs because that's all he can do with tears in his eyes, swallowing thick as he strokes your arms and tries to keep his own emotions tempered.

When you fall asleep that same night, you meet Suguru again. This time it was much different.

You weren't in the middle of an intimate act, no thrum of pleasure shooting through your body or comforting warmth of your love. Instead, he appeared in his teacher's uniform standing beneath a tree, pink cherry blossoms lazily drifting around him. Never have you been so excited to see him before.

"Suguru!"

He turns but he already knew you were there, smiling so sweetly and opening his arms for you. Running as fast as you could, you leap into him with a giggle, wrapping your limbs around his body and squeezing tight. You never want to let go again.

"Satoru told you." Suguru states, voice muffled by the press of your shoulder against his lips. Pulling back, you pepper his face in as many kisses as you could.

"I'm sorry I forgot about you."

Suguru chuckles, creating a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. "It's okay, I'm just glad you remember." He kisses your cheek all the way to your lips, sweet and purposeful. "I love you."

"I love you too. I'm never going to forget you again, promise."

[laufire]

The "Bruce is a girldad and suuuuuch a good father to Cass" takes are irksome and inaccurate and often used as a crutch to write Cass in without actually having to put any effort on her character in Batfamily/Batboys centric fics. Most troubling, even at its more earnest when it's done by genuine Cass fans, it operates on the premise that Cass matters because she matters to Bruce (who, despite David Cain setting the bar at approximately the height of the Earth's core, still managed to pull a few outstanding performances. Read Batgirl00, it's good).

This is incredibly common across the board when it comes to female characters of colour with strong ties to important white male characters, regardless of the nature of such ties. Audience racism very much manifest in her detractors doing everything in their hands to deny those ties, to minimise them and instead elevate the importance of the man's relationship with another white character. But the opposite reaction from her fans (including, for characters in worse positions, trying to link them to a guy via rareships and the like) still accepts the premise that proximity to the white man is the winning ticket.

Which... oftentimes isn't an inaccurate premise; many, many canons definitely support and reinforce that mentality. Fans aren't making it up in their own heads; they're reacting and simply want their faves to "win" the game. I've been there.

But it tends to come with a stubborn denial that the game exists, and that it is rigged, and that there are BETTER possibilities for female characters. That there are bigger victories for them outside these confines and that they can be worthwhile characters in their own right. The start of the show, instead of acting as if being chosen as the plus one is the greatest role they can aspire to.

[nadas-dirthalen]

just want to say again that bioware did an amazing job with the inquisitor's missives. it's impossible to nail the voice of every single inquisitor that has ever existed in the last 10 years, but if you go over the actual events described in the missives, they are perfect.

they fit just as well for celene being kept as empress, gaspard ruling alone, or briala using gaspard to rule. they impact the divine no matter who you chose as divine because val royeaux falls to the same anti-emperor/empress rebels. ferelden/orlais tensions are kept high throughout, with the inquisitor acting (again!) as the sole peacekeeper between them.

oh, and the dwarves? orzammar is mentioned throughout, has its own storyline, and survives the final blight. the avvar? good news! the chasind/avvar are recruited as the inquisition's allies, and negotiate a temporary peace with ferelden, and are responsible for most of the inquisition's resources/food in the late game!

the entire series of missives is filled with constant callbacks to da:o, and even goes out of its way to say that the events of da:o are why the blight is shaped like it is in the south. the blight left behind seeds of itself, which makes sense, because all along, the blight has been the evanuris' weapon controlled through their archdemons, and elgar'nan/ghilan'nain would know that june's recent death was due to the hero of ferelden. the evanuris are family (however you decide to interpret that) despite their disagreements; of course both remaining evanuris are spiteful enough to re-enact origins just to hurt the people of thedas that much more.

i constantly see posts saying the inquisitor has no role, no purpose, in veilguard.

to me, they're wrong.

the inquisitor's role is holding all of southern thedas together as solas' failed ritual threatens to tear it all apart. everything they worked for, together. everything they did, everything they feared losing once, together. whether you headcanon that as an incredibly angry and upset inquisitor seeing the last of the good parts of solas' efforts destroyed, or you romanced solas and your inquisitor is fighting to preserve what remains of their relationship with solas while rook works on freeing him... the inquisitor is doing something, and on just as grand of a scale as rook.

and there is no one else who could do it but them. the only person that both orlais and ferelden will listen to equally is the inquisitor.

they are not going through da:tv to free solas. that has to be done by someone that solas doesn't expect, doesn't know (and no, he does not expect/know rook; they continually surprise him in ways not even the inquisitor surprised him).

the inquisitor is holding the world together so that there is anything at all left in the south to rebuild, and the instant they have a free moment, they charge into minrathous as the very last (and perhaps most vital) piece of rook's entire plan. something rook kept carefully concealed the entire time.

you know.

the pawn who was subtly moved all the way across the board, despite the fact that solas was looking for it the whole time.

that isn't rook being stupid, or mindless. that is rook, morrigan, and the inquisitor being incredibly smart.

don't believe me? still want to cry "but the art book" about it? go look for the page where it says that trying to reason with solas too early led to the game ending prematurely, with rook dead.

[vmures]

New bill has been introduced to the House of Representatives Defining Biological Sex

This is something that has potential to harm a lot of people, including but not limited to, intersex folks, trans folks, and even cis folks. Laws like this can be built on and used to rigidly enforce very specific gender roles and hierarchies.

They can also be used to enact stronger limitations on very specific health care procedures, including necessary hormone replacement therapy for cis people who have medical conditions requiring hormone replacement therapy. People of all genders experience changes in their hormone cycles as they age and frequently need hormone replacement therapy to help improve their day to day life. This sort of law would help make outlawing hormonal treatments across the board. Already people, cis and otherwise, are having difficulty getting progesterine and/or testosterone. I know my very cis brother-in-law has had difficulties getting testerone treatments, which again, are frequently a necessary thing for aging men. Similarly, menopausal cis women are struggling to get progesterone.

Laws like this will also mean that all children must be assigned male or female at birth. This is incredibly harmful to intersex children in particular and can result in genital mutilation and forced surgeries.

If you live in the US, it is important that you contact your congress person and tell them that you want them to vote no on this and why. You can find out who your congress person is here.

Here is a link to the full text of the proposed bill:

[sixofcrowdaydreams]

To Live In Color Bookbinding Tutorial(s)

Here's how I turned To Live In Color into a book.

This fantastic book binding tutorial by @armoredsuperheavy was incredibly helpful and insightful. It taught me how to format the fic in a Word document. I cannot overstate how detailed and wonderful this tutorial is.

After winning a battle of wills against Word headers, I sent the PDF to a printer in order for it to be printed in color. Shockingly, color was important for the artwork in a story whose title and main theme is about color. I used Armored Super Heavy's method for sewing signatures together using linen ribbon for stability. I took no chances on my masterpiece.

I used this bookbinding tutorial from youtuber Bitter Melon Bindery as a guide for the construction of the book. Two cutting boards still covered in cellophane and two clamps as my bookbinding press were my pressing tools. Is it fancy? No. Is it cheap and does the job? Yes. After the spine was glued, I cut the edges for a smooth, polished look using a box cutter and metal ruler. This was the most nerve wracking step, and the one I struggled with the most, honestly. Mistakes were made. Fine grit sandpaper was key for fixing them and achieving a smooth, professional look. Then I added mull (or the closest fabric I could find acting as mull) to strengthen the spine. I made two copies of the book, one for myself and one for @sparrowmoth, who was the biggest cheerleader for this fic. Seriously, their comments (and friendship which started because of this fic) were so wonderful that I'm gifting them a physical copy.

I measured and cut the book board. The cover is meant to look like Wylan's waistcoat in the fic, Cinderella blue with eye catching silver and blue embroidery. Sparrowmoth helped me design an embroidery pattern to fit the dimensions of the cover. The final design is an adjusted version of this embroidery pattern from Bella Savory on Etsy. I did buy the pattern, for the record. I would have liked the pattern to swoop diagonally across the cover (as pictured above on paper), but the narrow length made this difficult.

I cannot tell you how many times I drew this pattern. First, it was copied onto paper and also copied onto the reverse side of the paper. Then, it copied (backwards) onto the interfacing which was then ironed onto the wrong side of the blue satin used for the cover. All of this was a spacial awareness nightmare for me to make sure it was on the correct side of the cover and facing the correct direction. Woof. Finally, I held the satin up to the light and retraced the pattern AGAIN with pen onto the front of the satin.

I have no real experience embroidering, other than using a simple back stitch once for cosplay. But I looked up stitch tutorials online and made two practice samplers (once exactly as instructed by the original pattern I bought, and once with the modified pattern, satin fabric, and satin silver floss) before attempting the final version. It's not perfect, but I am very proud of how it turned out.

I then turned the satin fabric into bookcloth by using a double sided adhesive (shown with the square paper) and blue tissue paper. The color was not necessary because it's not seen when finished, I was just being extra. The adhesive had the added benefit of securing the back of the embroidery. Then I glued the cover boards. The glue warped the boards, but they were easily fixed by placing the text block between and pressing it down overnight with a heavy textbook.

Unfortunately, the corners were a mess. The satin frayed easily despite being glued and I was forced to use metal corner covers to prevent the fabric from damage. The corner covers actually worked in my favor. Now I like the look of them. They definitely make the book seem more polished and fairy tale fancy.

Finally, I glued the textblock to the cover, completing the book. It's not perfect by any means, but it is my masterpiece. Every part of the book (except for Sparrow's artwork) was created by me. I wrote the story, formatted the text, created all of the other artwork including the title image with the butterflies, and embroidered the cover. It was a labor of love from beginning to end. I am so proud of my fanwork-turned-book.

[forklesbian]

More stuff related to my conspiracy theorist idea: How difficult I think it would be to find images of the Mechs in universe (if they aren't holding a show near you) and how Morrigan (The conspiracy theorist. {Thanks for the name @purelunaris!}) managed it.

It's fairly easy to find images of Johnny, if you look through most police records. He leaves most cameras that catch photos of him intact and is incredibly proud of all his mugshots and wanted posters. No matter the time or place, he's the easiest to find.

Marius had a brief period of time where he got really into publishing shitty self-help books, and he put different pictures of him acting out the 'advice' in the book. All the photos look like weird stock photos and are of him doing things like sitting on a pile of hundreds of violins or burning down another psychiatrists office. The books are still mass produced for some reason.

Raphaella shows up in various science textbooks, mostly under aliases. Many professionals photos and sketches are very easy to find copies of. Though you do have to buy several textbooks about the full history of magnets just to cut out a small black-and-white picture of her.

The Toy Soldier is famous and infamous across many planets militaries, so many depictions of it show up all across history. The problem is that most of the time, it tries to blend as a regular human soldier, so depending on a galaxies milliary history, it could be near impossible to find good quality proof of it. But when there's a will there's a way and where theirs a need for old books, there's a second-hand book store.

Brian has many art pieces of him made by followers over the years, many of them preserved as the religions grew even after he left. A few of the branches hand out little pamphlets with pictures of him in a stain glass window style! You do have to listen to a religious rant, though...

Ashes made sure the only photos available of them weren't actually photos, but instead highly expensive oil paintings. So most of the time, the only way to actually own a photo of them is to shell out a ridiculous amount of money to buy a centuries old painting... or you could quickly copy down a recreation of the painting onto line paper while visiting a museum.

Only a few photos are available of Gunpowder Tim because while many have been taken, the cameras usually don't survive long enough afterward, usually being found blown to smithereens. Thankfully, there are a few portraits of him that Ashes had commissioned of them as Persephone and other roles. Those were also copied down onto notebook paper.

Photos of Nastya are incredibly rare, but an old portrait of some old princess named Anastasia fits her description well enough to earn a spot on the conspiracy board, so on it goes!

Photos of Ivy are even harder to find, leading to Morri knowing next to nothing about her, leading to them somehow coming to the conclusion that she has to be some evil mastermind.

[thekrakenlolz]

Start up Fic - Ellie Williams x Reader

part 2

Summary: You switch dorms at your boarding school after you and your girlfriend go through a messy break up and you no longer can handle being roommates with her. Only your new one is a different kind of problem

a/n: I wrote the first chapter only to realize I have no idea what comes next. So here's my plan: if y'all like the set up, you can give me suggestions for what you want to happen next. I basically just laid down the base. So you can read it if you want and see if you have any ideas. But just as a warning, I'm not gonna write smut without a plot, I'm not about that life. I have a vague idea of what I can put next but it's very cliche and overdone sooooo yeah, thanx in advance<3

Also, English is my third language so expect bad grammar

°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-

Your eyes wandered over the walls as you walked along them. The paint was starting to flake off, revealing the concrete underneath. Your school was old. Like old, old. Like Victorian ages old. Something most of your friends scoffed over, but you personally liked. You thought it gave it character. Of course a little bit of a touch up wouldn't hurt, but bathroom doors that are actually still attached to the stall hinges were overrated anyways.

You were following Miss Jenkins, your housemother, hunched over as you were balancing three of your bags on your back. Uncomfortable, yes, but you were trying to minimize the amount of trips you had to make to move all your shit over to your new dorm. Anything to avoid seeing Samira more than absolutely fucking necessary.

"Here we are" Miss Jenkins sighed, stopping in front of one of the gray doors. It took everything in you not to roll your eyes. You were still pissed that you had to put in 4 requests over the duration of 2 months before they finally assigned you a new room, but now she was acting like she was doing you a huge favor. Like taking 15 minutes out of her day was so much to ask for. But you kept it down, thanking her again before opening the door and stepping in.

The lengthy process of actually getting a new room gave you plenty of time to stress over who your new roommate would be. This girl, however, didn't even come to mind. You weren't even sure what her name was, your social circle and her's didn't interact much. E-something? Or was it L?

Mystery girl was sitting at her desk, headphones in, and carefully shading out something in her notebook. You noticed she had tucked her left leg under her, a bad habit you also possessed. She didn't register your presence, her eyes still fixed on the paper. You threw your bags next to your bed, which finally caught her attention. "Oh fuck" she jumped up from the desk and hurried over to your bed, picking up the stuff she dumped on it. "Hello to you too" you mused.

Sweatshirts, textbooks and pencils started flying over onto her bed. "I'm sorry, I thought I had until Sunday to get my shit off your side" She explained, tossing a hairbrush across the small room. You watched it hit the wall and fall down onto her Zelda themed sheets. Cute, you noted. "No worries, take your time, I still have stuff to move over"

So you were back in the hallway, slowly but surely making your way back to your old dorm and with that, to Samira. Now that you were by yourself, you took the time to think about your new roommate. You still didn't know her name but one thing was for certain: she was incredible looking.

Her thick straight auburn hair cut off above the shoulders and her cheeks were densely dotted with freckles. She was very toned, especially in the arms. She was probably in the lacrosse team.

You did notice she was more on the masculine side, so might maybe even be gay. You full stopped, forcing yourself to remember, that's exactly the type of shit that got you in your current situation in the first place. No fucking your roommate, dude, we talked about this.

--------

You took a moment to collect yourself before entering your old room. You drew a breath in, scanning the ugly grey door that separated you and her. 12B the lettering read, touched up with some sharpie. You reached for the knob.

She was sitting at her desk, scrolling on her phone and demonstratively ignoring your presence. You bit down on the inside of your cheek. This wasn't what you expected. Somehow you preferred another stupid fight over this new silence.

You stacked two backpacks on one arm and three bags on the other. The weight made your walk out rather inelegant. You stopped in the doorway. "Goodbye Sami."

You could practically feel her hesitate.

"Bye."