#the never ending drone of time and age.

[victorluvsalice]

-->And then it was Family Dinner Time! I had everyone head down to the kitchen (Victor and Smiler taking advantage of their teleports, while Alice super-speeded and Marm hovered), then Alice and Victor each grabbed a plate of turkey while Smiler had some plasma fruit and Marm sat at the table, just happy to be included. XD Everyone proceeded to have a lovely chat over supper, with Victor expressing his thankfulness to Smiler and Alice hers to Victor while one of the cats snoozed nearby. :) I do love it when I can coordinate some proper family time for this lot!

After two plasma fruits and some invigorating conversation, though, Smiler decided they wanted to go dance to their radio again – as everyone was pretty much done with the grand meal, I allowed this and sent Marm to play yet more chess while Alice and Victor shared a few final words over the last bites of their supper. Victor finished first and transportalated upstairs to have a shower and hit the sack, while Alice gobbled down the rest of hers werewolf-style and got put on plate-cleaning duty. I then checked in on Smiler and decided to have them check the latest video trends – which just so happened to include singing videos. An idea sparked in my mind, and I turned to their streaming drone –

And then realized “oh hey, there’s a battery upgrade on here I never finished.” So I had them start that first –

-->Only for them, and everyone else, to get interrupted by the house making spooky noises. *grumbles* I think that’s my least-liked part of living in a haunted house – the fact that every time it makes a noise, every Sim stops what they’re doing to freak out. You’d think they’d just get used to it after a while! *shakehead* Though I suppose I should check to see if any of them have the “Brave” trait – maybe that would help?

-->Anyway – once everyone was done having their “what was that??” moment, they all resumed their activities as per my directions. Alice cleaned up the plates, then let out a somber howl to reduce her Fury before heading to the barn to cut the amethyst she had on her into a spire so she could charge it and help her and Victor recover their energy sleeping even faster; Victor watched the fish in his and Alice’s bedroom for a bit before heading back to bed; and Marm went and took a nap on one of the front porch couches (I was like “sir, your charge need is BARELY DEPLETED”). And Smiler finished the battery upgrade on their drone before stowing it in their inventory –

And then flew into their party barn loft area to set up a recording of them singing some pop music on their big-ass karaoke machine! :D Because what the hell, I thought it was fun. :) I left them powering out the tunes while I peeked in on the others –

-->And found that Alice had once again decided showering in the rain was better than doing what I’d told her to do. I huffed and had her go back in and resume her spire…

And then promptly had to send her out again because her werewolf instincts were insisting she be outside, whoops. Which was fine, because as it turned out, shortly thereafter the house made MORE spooky noises, and everyone was knocked out of their current activities AGAIN. *rolls eyes* Once the freakouts were once again over, I had Alice go back to cutting her spire while sending Marm to play more chess (had to get him up to Logic level 3 for his aspiration) and Victor to start a new song on the piano (I’d had him scrap the old one because I was half-sure it was bugged). Smiler I just had end their video (I mean, when the house itself is commenting on your karaoke, it’s time to stop), then head back to their room to load it into the video editing station for, well, editing. XD They got through the initial edits and adding effects (while I tried and failed to have them do some last-minute “Being Thankful” with Victor to quickly fulfill that tradition – for some reason, they kept insisting they couldn’t teleport into the study in bat-form) –

And then Harvestfest ended, and with it, the playsession! I wrapped up with everyone having had at least a DECENT holiday (Victor, Alice, and Smiler all got “Awesome,” while poor Marm got “Over” because they could only fulfill two of the traditions – you’d think a Servo would just ignore the “Grand Meal” one because, well, SERVO, but nope! But he was happy enough to ignore the “Decorate” tradition because he’s Lazy, go fig), and Alice having successfully created her amethyst spire, getting up to level 4 of the Gemology skill in the process, nice. :) I put that on the grid to charge, sent her to bed, and left it there!

And that is that! Whew – long session to be sure, but a good one, I feel. :) Next time, we clean up the last of the mess left by those damn gnomes (who at least all ended up back in the greenhouse where I can easily move them back to where they should be), and get ready for another food sale, this time in good old Copperdale! See you then!

[grimmsbride]

KINGDOM HEARTS [ daisuke / reader ]

sneaking contraband on the tulpar was totally worth it, especially when you got to share it with the person you’ve been pining for.

tags / pre-crash | reader & daisuke are the same age & she is also swansea’s intern (original i know). | not connected to the past daisuke fics | heavy mentions of weed but more specifically weed pens. i know it’s not accurate to the timeline nor the job, but if you’re looking for complete accuracy in a smutfic i don’t know what to tell you | weed sex | sloppy oral sex | fingering | daisuke is heavily ooc. this is done purposely given he’s literally smoking. if that’s an issue i’m sorry | soft-dom daisuke | hes very mouthy & kind of desperate | mutual pining | coworkers to more?.. | unrealistic descriptions of weed & sex | etc

notes / given it was mentioned daisuke liked to party back home (and also drink) i thought him smoking was right up his alley. also i feel like with weed or alcohol he definitely isn’t as insecure? idk how to word it but yeah that was my thought process. as always please excuse any typos & grammar mistakes

You never thought you would be ontop of a freighter, dedicating time to listening to some old man drone about machinery whilst in the middle of space. But alas, here you were; inside a ship known as the Tulpar, under the watchful gaze of Pony Express. You should be thankful, not everyone has the same opportunities as you. Back home, you could name quite a few people that would kill for your position.

You couldn’t resist your reluctance, though. Leaving everything behind for several months was more stressful than people believed. A constant routine, consistently having to be proper given this wasn’t home— it was work. Not having your usual comforts of tv, the outside, hell even your vibrator.

At least you remembered the most important thing of all— your weed pen.

It wasn’t a hard task, as you were given the most natural hiding place above the waist; and you were able to sneak extra cartridges between your clothes. A full-proof plan, really. The only issue was finding places to smoke it.

You couldn’t always hole up in your room, duties called after all. So usually you took a few hits in the bathroom, using the excuse of steam to mask the smoke. Or other times you would take a quick hit when the living room was free; the blown up screen a perfect trance for your little high.

No one seemed the wiser, not even your fellow intern; Daisuke, someone you’ve grown to enjoy being around. Despite being the same age you simply weren’t so sure he would be into that type of thing. He looked far too.. innocent. Surely an annoying term to use for a grown man, but still— what else could you say?

Like any other day it was packed with chores, tasks stacking on-top of each other with no end in sight. You tried to be as friendly as possible, but with your secret craving and exhaustion playing at the back of your mind you were sure you came off a little snappy at times.

You would apologize later, possibly blaming it on the stuffy feeling of the ship or worse — your period.

Either way, much to your pleasure, the day had ended; leaving you in the comfort of your bedroom. Sitting on-top of the plush sheets you leaned over to sift through your nightstand, fingers soon coming into contact with a slender, metallic piece. You rose, bringing your pen with you and looking at the contraption with such love.

Your last piece of sanity. As dramatic as it seemed.

Routinely you brought the mouthpiece to your lips, forming around it and taking a slow hit whilst your thumb pressed against the button. Pulling it away, you allowed the smoke to sit— eyes closing to really take it in.

So focused on your relaxation you hadn’t even realized footsteps were approaching your bedroom until it was too late.

“Hey [Name] you wanna play this board game? Anya do—“ The door was opening before you could even respond, causing panic to rush towards your chest. In the midst you began to cough, throat straining as ugly wails escaped; struggling to catch your breath.

Through a blurry gaze, your eyes landed on the culprit of your chaos; spotting Daisuke glancing at you oddly for a moment.

“Are you uh… Do I smell weed?”

“No!”

You managed to let out, followed by wet gasps. Very, very convincing. Your attention turned to the water bottle on-top of your nightstand, snatching it quickly and taking a swig. The cool liquid soothed your throat just a bit, allowing you to relax from the attack.

Slowly you calmed down, taking a deep breath and releasing; all under the gaze of Daisuke, who sported a small grin.

“I know what weed smells like [Name]. And how weed coughs sound.”

You slowly set your water bottle back down, eyes taking the other in with a harsh squint. For a moment the two of you stared at each other silently before you sucked your teeth, letting out a whisper-yell of close the door!

Daisuke was quick to listen, shutting the door closed and crossing your bedroom in record time. He found a spot on the edge of your bed, watching in awe as you pulled a thin device from underneath your sheets. He giggled gently, as if already riding the cloud; leaning his head onto his shoulder.

“How did you even sneak that in?”

“I have my ways Daisuke.” You winked, attention turning to your beloved weed pen. It was a simple white color with a pink rim around the actual button. Small but deadly, given the amount that was inside the device. Plus it didn’t help you had switched cartridges recently.

Your focus then turned to the man, “Wanna hit?”

Daisuke’s eyebrows rose, a nervous laugh escaping him before nodding.

“Hell yeah.”

He leaned over, grasping the pen from your fingers delicately and glancing at it. The intern spun it between his fingers for a moment, gaze turning back to you the moment you spoke;

“You know how to take it, right? Don’t waste my weed.”

“Watch..,” Daisuke brought the piece up to his mouth, lips wrapping around it gently as his thumb pressed against the circular button. With ease he was breathing it in, pulling the pen back— holding the smoke for a moment, before releasing it.

“..— See? I know what I’m doing.”

He certainly does.. You thought to yourself, suddenly growing a bit hot. You sat up, legs crossing as you reached for your pen.

“I’m impressed, didn’t take you for a smoker.”

Daisuke shrugged, a lazy smile on his face as he laid across your bed. His elbow dug into the plush mattress, a soft cheek resting to his palm.

“I only did it recreationally, at parties and stuff.”

You hummed in response, slightly entertained by the reveal of such information. Daisuke had subtly mentioned before his activities but you didn’t always believe him. He just didn’t seem like the type. More like a little fawn desperate to gain the approval of his superior, not some party animal. But, looks were deceiving after all.

Especially when said fawn was hitting your pen way better than you did.

You pressed your lips to the pen, tapping it there for a moment before a question crept from your throat;

“You know any tricks?”

Daisuke pursed his lips a bit, slowly shaking his head. You were quick to smile, bringing your finger up.

“I know this one, watch.”

With that you were taking a hit, bringing the pen down to your lap. Daisuke focused on you, watching intently as you.. mouthed? He hadn’t a clue what you were attempting to do, nor was he sure you did either— given you suddenly pushed the smoke from your mouth, quick coughs escaping you.

The man was quick to laugh, grinning ear to ear as a flush of red spread across tanned skin. You struggled for breath, little tears threatening to spill as you held your finger back up.

“I got it, I got it!”

You were desperate to show off, even if it risked getting far too high. You lifted the pen back up, taking another strong hit before dropping it back to your lap. You started off strong, breathing the smoke in— struggling not to giggle when you heard Daisuke small sounds of encouragement.

Yet as strong as you started you failed all the same, doubling over to cough into your blankets; cheeks hot the moment you noticed Daisuke practically falling off your bed with laughter.

“How were you worried about me wasting it?”

“Shut up!” You huffed, though snorting. You could nearly curse yourself for not sharing your little secret sooner. As much as smoking was a delight, it was even better doing it with someone else. Especially someone as fun as Daisuke.

You slowly rose from your position, taking deep breaths to relax as you glanced at the man who was currently doing the same.

“Okay, so.. I don’t know a trick.”

Daisuke gave a really? expression, quickly raising his hands when you tossed a pillow in his direction. Pulling the plush item down to his lap with a playful huff, the man watched as you lifted the pen again.

“But.. I do know this one thing.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

You gave a playful smile, “Shotgunning. You know, passing smoke back and forth.”

His shoulders seemed to straighten, sitting up tall and laying his hands onto the pillow in his lap. An unreadable expression crossed his features, hands crossing to allow his fingers to glide across his silver rings.

“I know what that is.”

Your eyebrow rose, though silently taking in the information. Whether a buzz of jealousy or excitement trickled down your spine, you will never known; as it was quickly washed away with warmth. One such sensation that collected at the pit of your stomach the moment Daisuke reached over for the pen.

“It’ll be better if I do it first.”

The man softly explained, to your puzzled expression. You slowly nodded in turn, watching as he brought the pen to his mouth. A single moment passed before he even took a hit, maybe allowing you time to back out. But you didn’t, watching intently as the man sucked in the smoke— eyes flicking to you with slightly puffed cheeks.

That was your cue. You shuffled from your spot at the head of your bed, coming close enough that your knees were practically touching. You pressed down on the bed to steady yourself, lips parting carefully. Daisuke drew closer, just a breaths away, yet lips not touching. His eyes glanced from your own to your lips, a soft grumble of disapproval rolling at the back of his throat.

Before you could think you felt his fingers tracing your chin, a thumb pressing against the space.

“Like this..” He said rather tight lipped, widening your mouth carefully. Once satisfied Daisuke blew the smoke from his mouth to your own, watching as the white cloud rolled in flowing tendrils, filling your senses the moment it made contact.

You sucked it in, shivering at the sensation and rather heated exchange. You’ve always imagined shotgunning to be rather.. intimate. You were sharing smoke with someone, after all. But, intimate just didn’t seem like a fitting word. At all. This was something beyond it, completely.

As the moment the smoke was touching your tongue, it was as if you could spot Daisuke’s thoughts sprawled across his forehead. Never mind the way those pretty, almond— slowly reddening eyes took you in far too intently.

You backed away a little, releasing a heavy breath straight from your chest. You glanced down before allowing your gaze to land upon the other intern, spotting his eyes already fixated upon you.

“You wanna go again?”

You tried not to nod so excitedly, but with the smoke clouding your focus and the absolute want running through your body— you were sure you looked like an idiotic bobble head. Daisuke either was too high to notice or decided against it anyway, as he was passing your pen back in record time, sitting up and watching.

You took the pen, mirroring his previous movements. Allowing the pen to fall in your lap after, you leaned a bit closer— just as Daisuke did the same. Only this time it was far too close. Your lips briefly touched, only for a moment almost unrecognizable. Yet, you both knew the other felt it.

You decided to ignore it. It meant nothing, right? Simply an accident bound to happen.

You parted your lips, a soft sound escaping as you blew the smoke into his mouth, watching Daisuke consume it eagerly. Sucking up each puffy white cloud under your watchful gaze, he allowed it to dance upon his tongue for a moment before blowing it right back into your mouth.

Just as he closed the distance between the two of you.

You groaned softly, eyes pinched closed as the high of the weed and his lips ran through your entire body. You felt it all the way from your head, to your toes; nerves on fire, as if ready to burst. You were quick to grab him, needing an anchor as the bold kiss quickly muddled your brain. Your fingers curled into his half-dyed hair, twirling soft tresses between the digits and tugging.

Daisuke whimpered right into your mouth, a sound that caused your legs to squeeze and eyebrows to furrow. You felt him moving for a moment before his hands were tracing your body; one finding your waist while the other gently grasped the back of your neck. There, with a tiny push, the man deepened the kiss— tugging you even closer by the waist.

Your arms stretched out, linking around his neck and meeting his eagerness wholeheartedly. You were pleasantly surprised by the sudden 180 of his personality. You especially didn’t take such a clueless, seemingly naive man to be such a good kisser.

But here you were, under his mercy— barely able to keep up with the sloppy lip locking. And with each squeeze of your waist, your mind was spiraling further and further. Again, you could only curse yourself for withholding the weed for this long.

“Wa..wanna touch you..” The words were pushed against your lips so messily you nearly hadn’t heard. Except, they fell from Daisuke’s mouth again; only this time not as muffled given he was pulling away from your lips. His forehead pressed against your own, alternating squeezes on your neck and waist, heavy breaths causing his chest to rise and fall.

“You wanna touch me?”

“So..so bad. I have for a while.” The words came out in drawl as if he was drunk rather than high, red eyes lifting from your lap to your own. “Please, let me?”

He was so desperate, Daisuke’s usual personality peeking through his high facade. The only thing missing was his hands clasped together and whimpers. It was a sight you enjoyed, devouring it greedily with your eyes.

Instead of speaking you slammed your lips back to his own, hands reaching to find his wrists. Once doing so you made his hands drag from your shoulders, down your tummy, hips, and thighs— back and forth, back and forth.. teasing him. It seemed to work as the kiss got even more desperate, his fingers twitching under your hold.

And the moment you released his wrists, Daisuke was all over you— only this time he had full control. The man made quick work of fitting his fingers underneath the shirt you wore, warm digits spanning across your soft stomach. They then rose, flinching the moment they came into contact with your naked breasts— yet eagerly grasping them; cold silver rings digging into your hot flesh.

You sighed into his mouth, grasping his arms and slowly lowering yourself onto your back, pulling him on-top of you. Little sparks of pleasure danced down your spine as he squeezed your breasts, pushing up your shirt to reveal your chest to the muddy air.

The two of you parted, a sticky string connecting your bottom lips together— which broke the moment his head lowered, lips finding a breast. A sloppy kiss was stamped right against your nipple, the swollen bud soon being enveloped by his warm mouth. You stifled a sweet moan, hands finding its place back in his hair, tugging as his tongue swept and circled your areola.

You felt spit trickle at the corner of his mouth from all the attention, sucks only becoming more ferocious as time passed. Caught up in the pleasure you hadn’t realized a hand was descending down your body, not until two fingers were tugging your pants enough that his hand fit through.

Daisuke’s fingers spread across your clothed cunt, finding the edge of your panties and tugging it to the side. There, he was free to spread you, revealing your sopping bud to his finger. He dragged his digit up and down for a moment before running little circles onto your clit.

“Dai..daisuke..—“ You whined softly, nails dragging against his scalp as your thighs twitched. “T—take my pants off, please!”

The man smiled right against your chest, though obliged and with your help, pushed your pants and underwear off your body and down to the bottom of the bed. Now free your legs were spreading easily, hissing as his thumb dragged across your clit whilst another digit circled your wet hole.

Daisuke lifted from your chest, watching with reddened eyes as his finger sunk in all the way to the knuckle. Your walls were warm, enveloping and sucking him in greedily. With each breath you were squeezing, making it just a bit hard for him to move. But, Daisuke didn’t plan to give up now, seeing as — with some effort — he was curling the finger, eyes flicking to your face the moment the prettiest moan fell from your lips.

“That felt good..?” The words fell out as a question more to himself rather than you and instead of waiting, the man repeated his action; only this time a little more confident. And once he received the reaction he was looking for — another breathy moan — Daisuke was more than happy to continue.

Your gasps quickly mixed in with the sounds of your wetness, spongy sounds that echoed with each push of his finger. Curling and fingering, you groaned the moment another digit crept, scissoring inside you. Your thighs were closing at this point, getting overwhelmed with pleasure. You’ve touched yourself while high and as fun as it was, this experience was completely different.

You were sensitive, every sensation on hundred with no chance of coming down. Daisuke’s only been playing with you for a moment and already you felt that familiar band deep in your stomach.

In the midst of your pleasure you hadn’t even realized your thighs were nearly shut until Daisuke quickly slid his free hand to your thigh, pushing and spreading you open.

“I wanna see.”

He said far too calmly, eyes flicking from your face and back to your pretty cunt. Daisuke couldn’t helped but be entranced, watching his fingers disappear and reappear, coated in your arousal. The man swore under his breath, nails dragging against your thigh. He wondered if.. you would let him get a taste? The thought alone nearly made him come in his pants, eating you out just seemed like the second best thing to sharing that weed with you.

Without thinking Daisuke’s face was lowering to your cunt, mouth parted as bated breath fanned against your slick slit. With no warning his tongue was stretching, licking at your bud— quickly glancing at your face for a reaction. He was pleased to see your glossy red eyes and swollen lips open as a pretty gasp escaped your throat. Your fingers tugged at his hair so desperately, back arching as the man’s tongue swiped against you once again— only dragging the thick muscle, allowing you to feel its entire length.

“Please, please..!” You hadn’t a clue why you were pleading, but it seemed Daisuke did— given he repeated that action once more, circling the tip of his tongue along your clit. Little tears threatened to spill from your eyes, hips lifting and grinding into his face; which only resulted in an encouraging squeeze on your thigh.

Moments of this intense pleasure passed before you were practically sitting up, struggling to stifle the harsh moan that escaped you. With a squeeze around his fingers you were coming undone, coating his face with your mess. Daisuke was far too happy to lap you up, cleaning you throughly and refusing to waste a single drop.

Eventually you had to push at his forehead to get him away, groaning as the sensitivity playing at your aching cunt. Reluctantly the man pulled away, pulling his fingers from within you and rubbing his hand across your thigh— soothing you.

“Hopefully you didn’t wake the others.” Daisuke hummed with a small grin, chuckling at the frown you sent his way. He moved to hover above you, leaning onto his forearm and planting a wet kiss to your lips. You mewled from your own taste; hands trailing to tickle the back of his neck.

“We should have done this a long time ago..”

You murmured softly, hearing his own grumble of approval. The kiss continued until you pulled away, hands trekking down to cover his cheeks.

“Daisuke.. as much as I want to continue.. I’m really, really hungry.”

Taking your words in for a moment, the man couldn’t help but release a short laugh, patting the side of your thigh as he sat up from his hovering.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

With that promise, Daisuke was adjusting his clothes before waltzing towards your bedroom door, opening and exiting — probably off to snatch something from the Tulpar’s kitchen.

You certainly hopped no one was awake to notice his red eyes and extremely wet face.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Lost in Translation: Prologue

Summary: A college student (reader) forms a deep bond with a young professor, Spencer Reid, over weekly study sessions in the library. After months of building a friendship, they share a night together, only for the student to be left alone, Spencer gone without a word.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst, backstory, mild smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: non-descriptive smut (18+), talks of sex, alcohol, professor/student relationship (but it's Spencer and he's 18 like his students), being used for sex, loss of virginity, (un)requited feelings, no happy ending for this part

Word count: 8.6k

a/n: new story just dropped lol -- wrote so fucking fast and not edited at all sorryyyy

main masterlist part one part two part three part four

Being a wonder kid, Spencer Reid’s youth was one of isolation. Growing up too young, too smart, too awkward—too everything to really fit in���made life difficult. He navigated a world where his intelligence placed him far beyond his peers, yet his age kept him at arm’s length from those who might understand him better. It wasn’t until he began teaching an engineering course while working on his PhD at eighteen that he finally felt a flicker of that belonging.

Standing in front of an auditorium full of undergraduates, Spencer finally experienced something akin to acceptance. The students, many only a few years older than him, loved the fresh, youthful energy he brought to their 8 a.m. class. For the first time, they weren’t learning from a middle-aged professor droning on about equations but from someone who felt like one of them. Spencer’s lectures were passionate, and he brought concepts to life in ways that made the subject not only digestible but genuinely fun.

It didn't hurt that he was handsome either; that soft hair, those gentle brown eyes framed by glasses, and the earnest way he smiled—all of it made more than a few students swoon over him at one point or another. Spencer, of course, remained oblivious to the dreamy stares and flirtatious comments.

Despite his newfound sense of belonging in the classroom, Spencer didn’t really hang out with anyone. He remained somewhat of an enigma—attending his own study groups, tutoring off and on, and sometimes grabbing lunch with faculty who treated him more like an adorable novelty than a colleague. He was used to it by then, that feeling of floating in between worlds. 

But one day, after a particularly engaging lecture on applied mechanics, a student named Jasper approached him. Jasper was bold, with a confident walk and a grin that suggested they weren’t afraid to push boundaries. “Hey, Professor Reid,” they said casually, leaning against the edge of the lecture podium.

“Oh, uh, hi,” Spencer replied, caught slightly off guard as he scrambled to gather his things. He was never quite sure how to handle the one-on-one interactions with students that felt too friendly, too casual. “Did you have a question about the lecture?”

Jasper laughed and shook their head. “No, actually, I was just thinking... Me and my roommates are throwing a party this weekend, and I was wondering if you’d wanna come? You know, kick back, meet some people... No physics or equations, promise.”

Spencer blinked, processing the invitation like a computer struggling to boot up. A party? With students? It felt... like an odd concept, but one that piqued his interest in a way nothing had before. He’d never really had a social invitation like this—especially not one involving people close to his own age. The idea was exhilarating, and for a moment, Spencer could almost feel what it might be like to be just another young adult, rather than the kid-genius-teacher everyone knew him as.

“Really?” Spencer’s eyes lit up, his grin boyish and genuine. “That sounds great, actually! Should I, um... should I bring anything? Snacks? Drinks? I can... figure something out.”

Jasper shook their head, laughter spilling out at how adorably sincere he was being. “No, no, don’t worry about it,” they said, waving off his concern. “Just bring yourself, cutie.” With a teasing wink and a quick flick of their wrist, they slipped a small note with their address into Spencer’s hands. And then, with that same confident stride, Jasper turned and walked away, leaving Spencer to stand there, flushed and stunned, staring down at the address in his palm like it was some secret code to a new world he’d been waiting forever to explore.

—

Spencer stood outside the house, his nerves and excitement mingling as he took in the scene. The address Jasper had given him led him to a lively place: music thumping loudly enough to rattle the windows, laughter spilling out through the open front door, and the warm glow of lights casting playful shadows on the lawn. People were milling around everywhere—huddled in small circles, raising drinks to one another, dancing, and talking loudly over the music. It was the kind of scene Spencer had seen in movies but never really experienced in real life.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled his nerves and stepped inside. He immediately felt out of place in his neat button-down shirt and slacks, compared to the casual party attire of those around him. But he was here, and he was determined to enjoy it. As he made his way through the crowded entryway, Spencer's eyes were wide, absorbing every detail—the smell of popcorn and alcohol mixing in the air, the flashing lights, the loud music, and the laughter. He weaved through groups of students, dodging stray elbows and trying to make eye contact with anyone who might seem familiar. 

However, after a few failed attempts at small talk and realizing that almost everyone he knew was either preoccupied or didn’t recognize him outside the classroom setting, Spencer’s excitement dimmed a bit. He found himself gravitating towards a quieter corner of the living room, eventually sinking into the soft, worn leather of a couch, trying to look relaxed but not too out of place. He sat there, half-heartedly holding a cup of soda someone had pressed into his hand earlier, unsure of what to do next. Every now and then, a familiar face would pass by, and he’d offer a polite wave or smile, but nothing stuck. 

The longer he sat, the more he felt like an observer looking through glass, disconnected from the easy laughter and carefree movements around him. He sighed inwardly, wondering if coming to this party was such a great idea after all. But as he settled back into his seat, he heard an enthusiastic voice shout above the noise.

“Professor Reid!” 

He barely had time to look up before Jasper dropped down beside him on the couch, their presence as warm and electrifying as a flash of lightning. They were so close that the entire side of their body pressed against Spencer's, hip to shoulder, the sudden contact sending a warm jolt through his skin. Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise, and he couldn't help the slight smile that pulled at the corner of his lips.

“Hey!” he greeted, his voice louder than usual to be heard over the music but still tinged with that inherent awkwardness that never quite left him in social situations. He noticed the slight flush in Jasper’s cheeks, their eyes bright and relaxed from the party vibe.

“I thought you were gonna be a no-show,” Jasper teased, leaning in so that their mouth was close to Spencer's ear, their voice buzzing through him. “You seemed kinda nervous when I invited you.”

“N-no, not at all!” Spencer said quickly, though his laugh betrayed his nerves. “I was... just... you know, trying to, uh, soak it all in.”

“Well,” Jasper drawled, dragging out the word like they were savoring it, “now that you're here, we should make sure you have a good time. Can’t have my favorite professor looking all lonely in the corner.” They flashed him that teasing smile, the one that Spencer had come to recognize as Jasper's signature charm, and for a moment, Spencer forgot about the crowded room and the strangers dancing around him.

“Yeah,” he nodded, feeling a bit more relaxed, the warmth from Jasper’s touch making the party seem a little less intimidating. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

That night, Spencer had no idea how things would unfold. What started as casual chatter on that couch quickly transformed into something more charged, more intimate. Jasper had a way of making Spencer feel seen—really seen—and as they talked, leaning into each other, the lines between conversation and flirtation blurred until they no longer existed at all. Eventually, the touches grew longer, more intentional, and Spencer felt his breath catch when Jasper’s fingers brushed against the back of his neck, pulling him closer until their lips finally met.

It was Spencer’s first kiss, and it was exhilarating and nerve-wracking all at once. He was clumsy at first, feeling every ounce of his inexperience and fearing that he was doing everything wrong. But Jasper was patient, guiding him with slow, teasing movements until Spencer’s hesitations melted into something fervent and desperate. They broke apart, breathless and flushed, and before he knew it, Jasper was pulling him up, leading him through the crowded party, down a narrow hallway, and into a bedroom.

There, it happened—the fumbling of clothes, the whispered instructions and reassurances. Spencer's heart pounded in his chest, the nerves and adrenaline mixing with a primal kind of desire he’d never felt before. Jasper seemed to know exactly what they were doing, leading and coaxing Spencer through the motions, and for once, he wasn’t overthinking, wasn’t caught in the spiral of his own mind. He let go, lost in the sensations of touch, taste, and pleasure as he experienced intimacy for the first time.

When it was over, Spencer lay on his back, panting, feeling a mix of awe and disbelief wash over him. He was almost scared to speak, to ask what this all meant. But before he could say anything, Jasper sat up and smiled, giving Spencer a quick, almost dismissive pat on the arm.

“That was fun, Professor,” Jasper said with a playful grin that lacked the intimacy they'd shared moments before. “But I’m gonna get some sleep now. Thanks for, you know, joining in on the fun tonight.”

Spencer sat up, a little dazed and trying to process the sudden shift. He nodded, feeling a strange lump in his throat, and muttered a soft, “Yeah, sure. Thanks... for inviting me.” There was no animosity in Jasper’s tone, but it was clear the night had come to its end. Spencer gathered his clothes, dressed quickly, and slipped out of the room, his head spinning with a thousand thoughts. He walked through the party once more, though he felt almost invisible now, slipping out the front door into the cool night air.

The next class was excruciatingly awkward for Spencer. He’d gone over the lecture material several times, but nothing could prepare him for the moment when Jasper walked in, took a seat right in the middle of the room, and gave him an easy smile like nothing had happened. Spencer struggled to maintain eye contact and found himself stumbling over his words more than usual. He felt exposed, raw, like everyone in that room somehow knew what had happened between them.

But Jasper was unbothered, unfazed—completely casual. It was as if that night was just another blip on their radar, a moment to be shared and then forgotten. And perhaps that was the point. As the days went on, Spencer realized that to Jasper, and probably to many others, it was just another night—no strings, no lingering feelings, just a moment of pleasure and then moving on. 

The realization was strange for Spencer. He couldn't help but question if that was just what sex was—casual, meaningless, but a great way to blow off steam. It felt anticlimactic to think that something so intimate was treated so carelessly, but maybe that was the reality. For all his intellect, this was an area Spencer had little experience in, and he found himself trying to adjust to this new perspective. Maybe this was just the way people did things, and maybe that night with Jasper was simply the start of understanding what it meant to live a life that wasn’t dictated by equations or theories, but by messy, imperfect human experiences.

—

The library was packed with students hunched over textbooks, fingers flying across keyboards, and whispered conversations about study guides. You were already on edge, the stress of your final exam making every little noise seem louder, every empty table harder to find. You hugged your books to your chest, eyes darting around for any free spot, your mind already buried in the formulas and concepts you needed to cram before tomorrow.

Then, without warning, you collided with a solid body as you turned a corner. Your books tumbled out of your grip, scattering across the polished floor. “Shit!” you blurted out, the curse escaping before you could hold it back. “Sorry!” You dropped down immediately to pick up your books, your face burning with embarrassment.

Just as you did, so did the person you’d run into, and the next thing you knew, there was a dull thud as your foreheads collided with a painful smack. You jerked back, clutching your head, eyes watering from the sudden sharp sting.

“Ow,” the guy groaned, rubbing his forehead. He winced, but there was a hint of a laugh behind the pain, a softness in his voice that made your embarrassment double. 

“Fuck, my bad,” you stammered, feeling utterly mortified. “I’m so clumsy.”

The guy chuckled lightly, standing back up as he brushed off his pants. “Me too, it’s alright,” he said. As you looked up, you finally saw who you’d bumped into.

It was him. Professor Reid—the young genius who everyone in your classes seemed to talk about, with rumors that swirled around him like leaves in a storm. The eighteen-year-old PhD who made engineering sound sexy, apparently both in his lectures and in the beds of the more... adventurous students. You’d heard more than one friend gush about how he'd helped them understand a complicated theory in more ways than one, their whispers tinged with admiration and amusement.

And now here he was, standing right in front of you, all tousled curls, warm hazel eyes, and that slightly awkward but undeniably charming smile. The closeness made you realize how tall he was, his lean frame towering over you. You felt a rush of heat creep down your neck, spreading across your skin like wildfire. You’d seen him from afar, of course—catching glimpses of him in lecture halls or around campus—but never up close like this, and he was... so much prettier than you’d expected. 

“Are... are you okay?” Professor Reid asked, still rubbing his head but looking at you with a concern that made your stomach flip. He leaned down, grabbing the books you'd dropped before handing them to you, his fingers brushing against yours briefly.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” you mumbled, gripping your books tightly, trying to ignore the fact that your hand was now tingling where he’d touched it. “I just... wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Neither was I,” he admitted, his smile widening a little as he looked at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I guess we're both guilty.”

“Yeah, guess so,” you said, forcing a laugh. God, why was it so hard to speak right now? You mentally cursed yourself for being so flustered. You quickly glanced around, realizing that most of the tables were still full, and suddenly it dawned on you that there were no available places to sit... except for the table behind him.

“Um... do you—do you mind if I sit here?” you asked, gesturing to the table he’d just been standing beside.

He hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the table and then at you, a strange look crossing his face like he was trying to figure something out. Then, with that same awkward but genuine smile, he nodded. “Yeah, of course. It's all yours.” 

You thanked him quietly, moving to the chair and settling down, but as you did, you couldn't help but steal another glance at him—those curls falling just right, his long fingers thumbing through his notes as he lingered nearby. And as you opened your books, pretending to focus on studying, you couldn't stop sneaking glances at the very attractive, young professor. 

The hour that followed was filled with the gentle rustle of pages turning, pens scratching against paper, and the occasional cough or whisper from other students scattered around the library. But you couldn’t concentrate, not really. Your eyes kept drifting up from your notes to the table across from you, where Professor Reid sat hunched over his books, his focus so intense that you wondered what on earth he could be doing. Every now and then, your gazes would accidentally meet, and you’d look away quickly, your cheeks heating up as if you'd been caught doing something wrong.

You were in the middle of re-reading the same paragraph for the fifth time when you heard his voice break the silence between you. “If you don’t mind me asking,” he began, the soft tone of his voice instantly grabbing your attention, “what course are you studying for?”

Your eyes shot up to meet his, and for a moment, all you could do was blink at him. He was looking at you curiously, genuinely interested, and his expression was kind, almost encouraging. You tucked a stray hair behind your ear and cleared your throat, trying not to let your voice shake as you replied, “Oh, uh, architecture. I’m studying for an exam... final one of the semester.”

“Architecture!” Spencer’s face lit up, and he leaned forward slightly, his eyes sparkling with excitement. It was like you’d just told him the most fascinating thing in the world, and you couldn’t help but smile at the way he seemed so genuinely enthusiastic. “That’s great! I’ve always thought architecture was such a beautiful blend of art and science—it’s like engineering for the soul, you know? There’s so much math involved, but it’s all to create something tangible, something that can change the way people experience space. And the way architecture has evolved over time? It’s like a living timeline of human innovation!”

He continued to ramble, moving from modern skyscrapers to the ancient marvels of Rome, describing the symmetry of cathedrals and the beauty of brutalism. The passion in his voice made every word seem like a story, and you sat there, leaning your chin on your hand, utterly captivated by the way he spoke. It was clear he loved to share knowledge, to connect different ideas, to see how everything fit together like pieces of a puzzle. 

You found yourself smiling wider and wider, nodding along as he spoke, absorbing everything he said not because you needed to know it for your exam, but because he made it all sound so alive. 

“Sorry,” he said suddenly, laughing softly as he realized he’d been talking nonstop for quite a while. He leaned back in his chair, a slight flush in his cheeks. “I tend to... ramble a bit. Especially when it’s something interesting. I hope I’m not distracting you.”

“Not at all,” you assured him quickly, shaking your head. “Actually... I liked listening to you.” 

He seemed surprised by that, his eyebrows raising slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you said, meeting his eyes and offering a shy smile. “You, um... you make it all sound really exciting. It’s nice.”

“Oh, I’m glad,” Spencer smiled, a genuine, soft smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. For a moment, there was a comfortable silence, the kind that lingered like a shared secret. You wanted to say more, to keep the conversation going, to ask him about the things he was passionate about. But before you could find the right words, Spencer glanced down at his watch and began gathering his books.

“I, uh, should get going,” he said, a slight note of regret in his voice. “Lots of things to prepare for—classes and, um... you know, life things.” He gave an awkward laugh, and slung his bag over his shoulder, pausing for a moment as if he were about to say something else, but then just smiled instead. “It was really nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady and casual, despite the fact that your heart was pounding harder than it should have been. He nodded, gave you one last shy smile, and turned to leave, weaving through the tables and shelves of books until he disappeared from view.

You watched him go, the way he held himself with that slight awkwardness, his long stride taking him quickly out of the library. And as soon as he was gone, you slumped back in your chair, letting out a breath. 

For a fleeting moment, you felt hopeful that you might run into him again, that maybe you’d have another one of those conversations that felt easy and exciting all at once. But then you remembered the stories—the whispers about how Professor Reid often slept with students, how it was no big deal to him, just casual fun. And suddenly, you felt foolish for reading anything more into his friendliness. What if he’d only started talking to you because he was trying to woo you into bed? 

You couldn’t deny that he was attractive—very attractive—but if all he saw in you was another potential fling, then maybe it was better not to get your hopes up. After all, Spencer Reid wasn’t like other guys. He was brilliant, handsome, and, from what you’d heard, had more than his share of admirers. You shook your head, trying to brush away the pang of disappointment and return your focus to your notes.

Still, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t quite shake the image of his warm smile or the sound of his voice. And a part of you—just a small part—hoped that maybe, just maybe, there was more to Spencer Reid than the rumors said.

—

You were rushing, nerves jangling through your body like alarm bells. You were running late—really late—and all you could think about was getting to your exam on time. In your panic, you didn’t see the corner coming, your eyes glued to your watch as you cursed yourself for oversleeping. You rounded the bend with way too much speed, and before you could react, you collided hard into someone else. The force knocked you off balance, sending you sprawling to the ground, your books and papers flying in a wild scatter across the floor.

“Oh my!” came a startled voice. “I am so, so sorry, I was just looking for—oh, hi.”

You winced as you propped yourself up on your elbows, but the moment you looked up, your heart sank and soared all at once. There, standing over you, was none other than Professor Reid. He was staring down at you with wide eyes, his expression a mixture of surprise and concern, and his mouth opened as if he wasn't sure whether to apologize or help you up first.

“Oh my God,” you muttered under your breath, scrambling to get back up, your face flushing hot. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going, I just—”

“No, no, please, don’t apologize,” Spencer said quickly, his voice soft but urgent as he bent down to your level. “That was my fault, I wasn’t paying attention either.” He reached out to help you up, his hands gentle as he grasped your arm and steadied you, making sure you didn’t trip over yourself as you stood. “Are you okay?” he asked, eyes darting over you to make sure you weren’t hurt. “I didn’t, um... hurt you or anything, did I?”

“No, I’m fine, really,” you said, though you could feel your whole body tingling from where he touched you, the warmth of his hand lingering even as he let go. You brushed off your pants, trying to regain any semblance of composure despite the fact that you were now not only late but completely flustered.

Spencer began gathering your scattered books and papers, handing them to you with the same focused attention he gave to everything else. He was quick, efficient, but still careful, making sure to line up the pages neatly before passing them back into your hands. “Here you go,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “You, um... dropped a few things.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking the books from him and clutching them to your chest. And then you remembered. “Oh my God, my exam!” You looked at your watch again, the numbers glaring back at you as if taunting your lateness. “I... I have to go, I’m so sorry, Professor Reid, but I really need to—”

“Wait, wait,” Spencer interrupted, a spark of understanding lighting up his eyes. “Is it in the main lecture hall? The big one across campus?”

“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “I have, like, five minutes to get there or I'm screwed.”

“Then we’d better hurry,” he said, a determined smile breaking across his face. “Come on, I’ll walk with you.” 

“Y-you don’t have to do that, I mean—”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Spencer insisted, already starting to lead the way. “I’m heading that direction anyway.” You both knew that wasn’t true but then, with a quick glance back at you, he added, “Besides, it’s the least I can do after, you know... knocking you over.”

You felt a laugh bubble up in your throat, despite the chaos of the moment. “Okay, thanks,” you said, falling into step beside him. It was a strange, surreal thing—running across campus with Professor Reid at your side, his long legs matching your frantic pace. And even though you were still panicking about being late, there was something oddly comforting about his presence, like the whole situation was slightly less catastrophic just because he was there.

“Don’t worry,” he said between breaths, casting a reassuring glance your way as you both hurried down the path. “You’ll make it. I’ll make sure you get there on time.”

You made it to your exam with barely a minute to spare, heart still racing from sprinting across campus and the whirlwind encounter with Professor Reid. As you settled into your seat, your mind was a jumbled mess of nerves, exhaustion, and the lingering thrill of having Spencer Reid rush beside you, determined to get you there on time. The reality of having bumped into him—literally—and seeing his concerned, handsome face up close again was a distraction you struggled to push away. But as the exam papers were passed out and you took a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus, you felt a small swell of determination rising within you.

It wasn’t just about passing the exam anymore. No, it was about doing well—really well—because a part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d run into Professor Reid again. And if you did, and if he asked you how your exam had gone, you wanted to be able to look him in those warm, interested eyes and say, “I crushed it.”

And so you put everything into it. Every formula, every theory, every bit of knowledge you’d crammed into your brain over the past few weeks. The hours passed in a blur of scribbled answers and focused thought, and by the time you handed in your paper, you felt a surge of pride and relief. You knew you’d done your best—maybe even better than your best.

—

The new term had settled into a predictable rhythm for you: classes in the morning, work in the afternoons, and then hours spent in the library for some uninterrupted study time. By the third week, you found a comforting routine in the silence and solitude of your favorite corner, tucked away but not too far from the bustle of the main floor. It was your place to dive into note-taking, to tackle assignments, and to escape from the chaos of student life. And though your schedule was tiring, there was something satisfying about the repetition—class, work, library, sleep, repeat.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and you were in the thick of your study session, textbooks spread across the table, fingers tapping absently against your highlighter as you scanned the pages. You were deep into a chapter on sustainable building design when a shadow fell over your table, and you heard a voice.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?”

You looked up, and immediately, your breath caught in your throat. You didn't need to see his face to know who it was, but the confirmation was still enough to make your heart skip a beat. Professor Reid stood there with that same friendly, slightly awkward smile, his bag slung over his shoulder and a stack of books in his arms.

“Professor Reid,” you greeted with a smile of your own, trying not to let on how quickly your pulse was racing. “Of course, go ahead.”

“Thanks,” he said, his eyes crinkling in that gentle way as he pulled out the chair across from you. He sat down, settling his things on the table with a soft thud, and for a moment, you were both just... there, in the kind of companionable silence that libraries are made for. Spencer pulled out his own work, a notebook and a pile of papers, and began arranging them neatly before him, his fingers tapping thoughtfully against the edge of a binder.

“Preparing for midterms?” he asked after a moment, glancing up at you with a tilt of his head, genuinely interested.

“Yeah,” you sighed, giving a little shrug as you gestured to your scattered materials. “Trying to get ahead, make sure I don’t fall behind. You know how it is.”

“I do,” he laughed softly, his gaze drifting to the open book in front of you. “I’m writing one, actually. One of the joys of being on the other side of the classroom.”

“Wow,” you said, the laughter bubbling up before you could stop it. “That... actually sounds like way more pressure than taking one.”

“It can be,” Spencer admitted, a lighthearted grin playing on his lips. “I always end up overthinking it, trying to make the questions fair but challenging, relevant but not too obscure. It’s like creating a puzzle that someone’s actually going to solve.”

You nodded along, smiling at how earnest he was. “That sounds... kind of like how I feel about taking exams, actually. Trying to solve the puzzle without knowing if you even have all the right pieces.”

Spencer leaned back in his chair, his eyes lighting up as he considered that. “Exactly,” he said, like he’d never thought of it that way before. “It’s a lot like that. But the fun part is watching the different ways people solve it, the different approaches and interpretations. It’s... fascinating, really.”

As he spoke, you couldn’t help but watch him, his hands moving expressively as he talked, the way he was so animated about his work. You’d heard him lecture from afar, but this—this was different. There was something more intimate about being across from him like this, sharing space, sharing thoughts. 

You smiled, leaning forward a bit. “Sounds like you really enjoy it.”

“I do,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost reflective. “It’s nice to be able to help people understand things, to make learning something enjoyable instead of a chore.”

You nodded, and for a while, the two of you sat there, working side by side, an unspoken connection forming over the shared silence and occasional exchanges. And though you were both absorbed in your own work, you knew now that this wouldn’t be the last time you’d find yourselves at the same table, sharing the same quiet space amidst the noise of college life.

Every Thursday for the rest of the term, your routine became intertwined with Spencer’s. You’d meet in your usual spot in the library, setting up your notes and books, and he'd arrive not long after, dropping into the chair across from you like he belonged there. And for hours, you’d sit together—sometimes in comfortable silence, sometimes falling into deep conversations about classes, life, and everything in between. It was almost comical when, after weeks of these meetings, he finally looked up at you, eyes wide with realization, and laughed softly.

“You know,” he said, smiling sheepishly, “I don’t think I ever asked you your name.”

You couldn’t help but laugh too, blurting it out in a rush, and he repeated it back to you like he was savoring the sound of it. And just like that, something clicked into place. He’d ask about your exams, your grades, always genuinely interested in how you were doing. You, in turn, asked about his lectures and the classes he was teaching, and he would share his thoughts on the challenges of balancing students’ needs, all with that passion and depth you had come to expect from him. 

Your friendship blossomed, but it was always contained to those Thursday evenings at the library. It was a boundary neither of you seemed to cross—studying together, talking, connecting, but never making plans outside of the walls of academia. And that was fine, for a time. But as the end of your freshman year loomed closer and summer break approached, the thought of leaving and not seeing Spencer every week weighed on you more than you’d expected.

One Thursday, when you could barely focus on your notes because of it, you found yourself fidgeting, chewing on your pen cap as you tried to summon the courage to speak. Eventually, you couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Spencer?” you asked, your voice quiet over the hum of the library around you.

“Mhm?” he responded, not looking up from the papers he was reading through but giving a small nod to show he was listening.

You swallowed, nerves bubbling up, but pushed through. “Would you, um, want to come over after exams end? You know, to... say goodbye to the year?”

Spencer paused, his pen freezing mid-note, and he looked up, surprise flashing across his features. He hadn’t expected that, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind as he considered your offer. The idea of spending time together outside the library, beyond your weekly tradition, was both tempting and concerning for him. He’d grown fond of your friendship, of the way you made him laugh and didn’t expect anything from him except a shared space and genuine conversation. But, deep down, a part of him still feared being used like so many others had. 

Yet, there was something earnest in your eyes, something that made him think maybe, just maybe, you really did just want to hang out. To be friends, and nothing more. He let out a small breath, nodding slowly. “Sure,” he said, offering a tentative smile. “What did you have in mind?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you hoped the heat wasn’t too obvious as you scratched the back of your neck, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “Uh, I didn’t plan that far ahead,” you admitted with a nervous laugh. “Maybe... a movie? Just something casual.”

“Casual,” he repeated, almost as if testing the word out, and then his smile widened, a bit of relief and something like excitement brightening his eyes. “Yeah. A movie sounds good.” 

And just like that, you found yourself looking forward to what might be the start of something new—something beyond Thursday study sessions, something more than a quiet routine.

The Friday after final exams, you paced your dorm room, nerves buzzing through you like electricity. You'd barely slept since inviting Spencer over—second-guessing every detail, every word you’d said. But now, as you checked your phone again, you reminded yourself that it was just a movie, just two friends hanging out to say goodbye to the year. Nothing more. You tried to convince yourself that it was normal to be this excited.

And right on time—exactly at 7 p.m.—you heard a knock at your door. Spencer's punctuality didn’t surprise you, but it did send a rush of excitement through your veins. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, before walking over to the door and opening it.

There he stood, dressed in casual jeans and a plain button-up shirt, looking somehow both effortlessly put together and adorably uncertain all at once. His curls were a bit messy, his glasses slightly askew, and he clutched a bag of something in his hands, which he immediately offered up to you with a slightly bashful smile.

“Um, I wasn’t sure if I should bring something, so I, uh, brought snacks?” he said, holding up the bag like it was a peace offering. You could see a mix of candy, chips, and a few other treats inside.

You grinned, stepping aside to let him in. “You didn’t have to bring anything, but thank you—that’s perfect.” You felt a wave of relief wash over you as he stepped into your room, glancing around with curious eyes as he took in the posters on the wall, the books scattered on your desk, the remnants of your rushed packing for summer break.

“Your roommate left already?” he asked, looking over at the other, empty half of the room.

“Yeah, they went home the day after finals,” you said, trying not to sound too relieved about having the room to yourself. “So it’s just us.”

“Just us,” Spencer repeated, the words hanging in the air with a nervous tinge in his voice. He smiled softly and set the bag of snacks on your bed, taking off his shoes and settling in as if he were almost comfortable—almost.

“So,” you began, moving to sit beside him, your nerves starting to subside as you relaxed into the familiar presence of your study partner turned friend. “I thought we could just pick something light to watch, you know? Nothing too serious.”

“Light sounds good,” Spencer nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose, and for a moment, there was that playful glimmer in his eyes—the same one you’d seen during your library sessions, when a joke or comment would catch him off guard. 

You leaned forward to pick up the remote, scrolling through the options until you landed on a few comedies and light-hearted movies. You tossed out a few suggestions, and eventually, the two of you settled on a movie neither of you had seen before—some easygoing, feel-good flick that you knew would make you both laugh and not require too much thinking. You hit play, and as the opening credits rolled, you sank back into the pillows, side by side with Spencer.

There was a comforting quiet between you, a sense of familiarity even in the newness of the situation. And as the movie played and the two of you slowly started sharing the snacks he’d brought, laughing at the jokes on-screen, you felt that same feeling you always did on Thursday nights—the calm certainty that, somehow, this was exactly where you were meant to be.

The movie had been on for about thirty minutes, and both of you were already lost in the silly over-the-top humor. It wasn’t long before the playful energy from the screen found its way into your own conversation, and you couldn’t resist teasing Spencer a little every time he laughed at something you found particularly cheesy.

“Oh, come on,” you grinned, nudging his shoulder with yours. “I can’t believe you’re actually laughing at this. I thought you had... you know, a refined sense of humor.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Hey, I can appreciate a good joke, okay? Even the dumb ones. It’s called versatility,” he said, giving you a sidelong glance before popping a piece of candy into his mouth.

“Uh-huh,” you said, leaning closer as if you were about to share a secret. “You’re just pretending to like it so you don’t hurt my feelings.”

He chuckled, turning to face you, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him as his knee bumped lightly against yours. “Trust me,” he said, voice low with that familiar teasing lilt, “I’m not pretending. I genuinely think this movie is... absurdly entertaining.”

“Absurdly entertaining, huh?” you said, narrowing your eyes as you leaned in just a little more, close enough to see the golden flecks in his hazel eyes. “I think that’s code for ‘terrible but in a fun way.’”

“Okay, maybe it is a little terrible,” he admitted, laughing openly now. “But in the best way.”

The lightness in his voice, the ease with which you bantered—it felt effortless. And then, suddenly, there was a shift. His laughter trailed off as he looked at you, his gaze lingering just a beat longer than usual. Your faces were so close, your knees brushing, your shoulders almost touching, and you noticed the way he was looking at you—like he was trying to decide something.

Spencer’s mind was a whirlpool of conflicting thoughts. He wanted to flirt, to let the playful banter turn into something more, but a voice in his head reminded him of past experiences—where interest in him was just a prelude to sex, a quick thrill before moving on. He didn’t want that with you. You were different—kind, genuine, and he didn’t want to ruin whatever you had by crossing a line.

And ever since meeting you, Spencer hadn’t slept with anyone. Your study sessions, conversations, and simple presence filled a void in him; being around you was all the release he needed. Now, sitting beside you, he just wanted to keep this intact, afraid that taking a step further might shatter what he cherished so much.

Little did Spencer know, your own thoughts were tangled with doubt. You'd been excited for this night ever since he said yes, but now, sitting so close to him, you wondered if he'd only come over for the same reason he might have gone to others in the past: sex.

The whispers around campus about Professor Reid’s quick, casual flings were hard to ignore. Reconciling that with the sweet, earnest man beside you felt impossible, but still, the thought gnawed at you. What if, to him, you were just another fleeting encounter before summer ended?

You wanted to believe that your Thursday study sessions meant more than a prelude to something casual, but the worry hung there, making your hand pause before reaching for the snacks. What if you were misreading everything? And if this was just casual to him, could you handle it, or would you rather preserve what you had now?

You glanced at Spencer, who was focused on the movie but stealing nervous glances your way. It was clear he was treading carefully, and you could feel the irony—both of you caught on the edge, too afraid to find out what the other truly wanted.

When the movie ended, the credits rolling silently on the screen, neither of you moved to turn it off or get up. There was an unspoken tension in the room, a pull that made it hard for either of you to suggest that this night should end. 

“Do you want to watch another movie?” you blurted out just as Spencer said, “I really like hanging out with you.” 

You both paused, your words colliding mid-air, and then burst into laughter. It was awkward, sure, but it was the kind of awkward that felt endearing, pulling you closer instead of apart. The kind that made you grateful for the comfortable silence that followed, where you both sat smiling like fools.

“Another movie sounds great,” he said, the grin on his face not fading, and you nodded in agreement. You both took a break—stretching, refreshing snacks, and using the restroom. When you returned to your dorm room, you found Spencer sitting more toward the middle of your bed, and when you slid in next to him, your bodies ended up pressed tightly together, the heat of his side warming yours through your clothes. You were hyper-aware of every place where you touched, but neither of you pulled away.

“Your turn to pick,” you said softly, handing him the laptop.

Spencer flipped through the options with focused eyes, and finally, he settled on a film—a foreign romance, its title scrolling across the screen in delicate script. You raised an eyebrow, curious but also a little lost. “Spencer,” you said, trying not to sound too nervous, “I, uh, don’t speak French.”

His eyes met yours, and this time, the way he looked at you was different—more intense, like he was seeing something in you that hadn’t been spoken aloud. It sent a shiver down your spine. “That’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and almost intimate. “I can whisper translate for you... if you don’t mind.”

The idea of Spencer leaning in close, his voice softly whispering translations in your ear as romantic lines played out on the screen, made your heart race in a way you couldn't control. You could practically feel his breath on your neck already, the warmth of his words settling into your skin. 

“Okay,” you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper, the word catching on your lips as you tried to keep your composure. 

You pressed play, and as the opening scene unfolded, you found yourself sinking deeper into the bed, Spencer’s body comfortably close to yours, and your heart pounding in anticipation of every word he would breathe into the small space between you.

The movie’s soft music and dreamy cinematography made it easy to get lost in its world, but it was Spencer’s voice—low, rich, and soothing—that anchored you. He leaned in, and his breath brushed against your skin as he whispered the translation, his tone low and almost reverent.

“Élise tells her...” he began, his voice wrapping around you like a warm blanket, “‘When I'm near you... everything disappears. The whole world, the sounds, time... there's only you and me.’”

The words hung in the air, and your senses were drawn to the way his lips moved against you as he concentrated on the words. You couldn't help but feel mesmerized by the way he brought the romance to life, the intensity in his whisper making your skin tingle with every syllable. 

“Juliet replies...” he continued, not yet noticing how your attention was fully on him now. “‘You are the reason I breathe, Élise. Every beat of my heart... it whispers your name. If I could, I would spend every second of my life looking at you.’”

And that’s exactly what you did now—look at him. His eyes were still on the screen, but there was something in his expression that felt vulnerable, open, as if he wasn’t just translating lines, but baring something deeper, something unspoken between you. You couldn’t resist leaning in just a little closer, every inch of your body hyper-aware of the closeness between you.

“‘Then look at me... and never let me go,’” he whispered, and when he finally turned to meet your gaze, the intensity in his eyes nearly took your breath away. His voice was softer, more intimate, as if he was no longer speaking for the movie characters but for the two of you alone. “‘Because without you, I'm lost. You are my everything.’”

Your heart raced, pounding in your chest as you stared at each other, your faces so close now that you could see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes, the way his breath came out just a bit more quickly. Spencer’s eyes searched yours, and you could see the hesitation in them, the question he didn’t dare ask.

“‘I promise you... never, ever will I let you go,’” he whispered, his voice barely audible, his lips only a breath away. “‘Because I love you... more than anything in the world.’”

Neither of you moved, frozen in that charged space between a word and a touch, every part of you yearning to close the gap as the rest of the world fell away.

The words hung in the air, your shared gaze brimming with something unspoken and heavy. And then, as if on cue, both of you turned your eyes back to the screen, where Élise and Juliet leaned in, their faces close, the tension snapping as they fell into a deep, passionate kiss. The soft sounds of the movie filled the silence between you.

“Do you want me to translate that?” Spencer asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath warm on your cheek. The words were teasing but tentative, laced with a hope that sent a shiver down your spine.

But before he could say anything more, before you could second-guess the pounding of your heart, you closed the space between you. Your lips met his in a sudden, breathless kiss that left no room for doubt or hesitation. The taste of him, soft and warm, was everything you had imagined it would be. You felt Spencer’s sharp inhale, the surprise in his body, but then he melted into you, his mouth moving against yours like it was something he'd been waiting for all along. 

His hand came up to cup your cheek, gentle but sure, pulling you closer, and the world disappeared—just like Élise had whispered—leaving only you and him in the electrifying moment of finally letting go.

Deep down, both of you felt that nagging worry—was this just a fleeting moment, a one-time thing? But as your lips moved together, those thoughts slipped away, overwhelmed by the heat of the moment, the desperation in every kiss and touch. Spencer laid you back gently, his hands trembling slightly as he held you, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you wanted to stop. But there was only desire and your verbal confirmation, and so he continued, showing you the skills he’d learned over the past year.

And when the clothes were shed and the vulnerability became all-consuming, you allowed him to take your virginity, holding back that delicate truth out of embarrassment over your own inexperience. You didn’t want him to stop, didn’t want to add more pressure to a moment already so fragile and important to you both. Spencer, in turn, treated you with a reverence that spoke to his genuine care, his every touch slow and deliberate, like he was savoring each second. 

It was the most passionate, mind-blowing experience Spencer had ever had. Every gasp, every whispered name, every shared look made it clear why—it was you, and it felt like something more than just sex, something deeper, like he was baring his soul alongside his body. When it was over, the two of you lay tangled together, hearts still racing, bodies wrapped around each other like you could hold the moment in place forever. And in that perfect silence, Spencer’s arms became a haven, and you drifted off to sleep, feeling safe, happy, and loved.

But morning came like a cold shock. You reached out across the bed, seeking his warmth, and found only emptiness. The sheets were cool, and Spencer was gone—no note, no sign of him ever having been there. The joy, the love, the comfort you’d fallen asleep to vanished with the sunrise, leaving behind an aching emptiness and the haunting fear that maybe all your doubts were true.

—

Summer came and went, and though the days were warm and filled with distractions, nothing eased the emptiness Spencer left behind. The pain of waking up to find him gone never faded, and as you returned to campus for your sophomore year, the ache of his absence settled in deeper, an open wound that wouldn’t heal.

You looked for him—hoping to see that familiar face in the library, in a lecture hall, anywhere on campus—but every search ended in disappointment. It was like he’d vanished, leaving not a trace behind. Over the next three years, you went through the motions, diving into your studies and trying to let go of what happened, but the memory of him never left, haunting every quiet moment and making you wonder what you'd done wrong.

The truth was clear to you now: Spencer had used you, filling some void in himself for one night, and then disappearing, leaving a much larger void in your own heart.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[yanderenightmare]

L "Lawliet"

rewatched Death Note and just couldn't resist...

TW: strict schooling ig, orphan reader, creepy behavior

gn reader

You were placed in Wammy’s House at an age you don’t remember. To you and most of the orphans here, it’s been your entire lives. Birthdays aren’t celebrated. The days are cold, the residents even colder. There was a time when you’d consider them brothers and sisters, but that’s also long ago now. No one is close to each other in this house.

It’s a rather stale existence with boring conditions unfit for normal children – the solitude, the competition, the games, always a ploy to make each other feel worthless. And for what… more riddles to solve?

You’d long lost interest in proving yourself among the prodigies. When you were given puzzles, you always played with them differently than the rest. They’d tell you to fill out the sheets, and you ended up making origami swans instead.

Looking around at the others, you knew you would never understand them – all blank faces staring into space. They all make you uneasy. You don’t know if it’s you or them that’s missing something, but you recognize it’s a rather pointless question to be begged. 

So you leave your paper flock on the floor and walk away.

You’d started putting the chisel of a black marker to the library books in your spare time – trying to make something else out of the boring pages. Something more palatable than the droning of law and policy you’d already read ten times over.

You had blacked out the word doppelganger when there came a disturbance.

“You had 84% of them right.”

You peeked up from the book, lowering your knees from where you had them tucked close for privacy – sitting on the floor between two bookshelves – a little nook you’d discovered to hide yourself from the rest of the busy readers in the usually crowded library.

It was empty now. Everyone was otherwise busy with the test still.

And yet, a mess of black hair was crouched down in front of you, shadowing his equally dark eyes. He held your swans unfolded in his hands. It was a disturbing sight for some reason – as though he’d dissected their guts. 

“You left 16% unanswered. Most people would test their luck and guess.”

L must have been the least creative alias born in the dull walls of Wammy’s House, and yet, he’s supposed to be the brightest of all those living there. He always finishes your tests early and leaves in favor of his own devices. Much like you, you suppose. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak before.

Suppose it’s only courtesy you pay him the same effort even when what you really want is to tell him to leave you alone…

You narrowed your eyes a bit, looking at him.

You sensed foul play in a game you had no wish to partake in but moved across the board like a sacrificial pawn anyway. That’s how you play these things, after all – never show your cards.

“There’s nothing to guess.” You sigh – despite knowing he already knows all this. “The blanks are trick questions.”

“So you noticed, too?” His eyes are like inkblots – much like those spills you’ve made in your book when you let the marker rest too long. He dropped your papers between you in favor of gripping his knees, leaning forward. “We’re the only ones.”

You purse your lips at his eagerness. You should have played dumb from the start – should have said you swiped the answer sheet from the headmaster’s office. He’d only spoken all but four sentences, and you were already exhausted. Any conversation with any one of your peers was like an interrogation.

“You started folding paper cranes when I was 94% done. Easy logistics would put you 6% ahead of me. But, unlike me, it didn’t seem you were filling out the answer sheets in any hurry. In fact… you seemed bored. And in that case, I’d put you around 16%, no... 18% ahead of me.”

You allowed the following silence to inform him that his ramblings were boring you. But it didn't seem he took the hint – showing no signs he planned on leaving.

Your eyes grew more jaded.

“Paper swans.” You corrected blandly. “You know my alias is Swan.”

You clapped your book together and sighed again.

“And we both know you were finished long before I started folding them.” 

He had a small smile on his face. It looked as if you’d drawn it on with your marker.

“You can state all the percentages in the world to try and confuse me, but your mind games won’t get under my skin for one single simple reason, L…” You got up and brushed off the dust, then walked away while saying, “I’m not interested in playing – not with you or anyone else in this miserable place. So do me a favor and leave me alone.”

L watches you leave and taps his lips with his pointer.

Puzzles and answer sheets have bored him for a while. Maybe he ought to play with you instead…

[sweetshuga]

It was just like any other day today—mundane. You sat in the front row with your friend, mindlessly swirling your pen around your fingers as you looked at the lecture ahead with zero interest unlike your friend beside you who took notes diligently. You, on the other hand, were too busy checking out the new lecturer to focus on the droning.

Suddenly, as if having heard your thoughts, Matt, the new lecturer, locked eyes with you, fixing his glasses as he took a step forward. Seeing that most of the students were either busy with their own discussions or the presentation at hand, he quietly approached where you sat.

"You’re awfully distracted, sweetheart." He stated, almost cocky in a way that told you he knew you were distracted by him, and the unexpected pet name made you feel that tingle in your lower abdomen—a telltale sign of your arousal.

He leaned a tad bit closer and talked in a more hushed voice, as if telling you a secret. "I’d appreciate it if you’d pay more attention... you pay to attend, after all." He folded his arms, his silver wedding ring glinting in the overhead lights, catching your eyes immediately.

Dilf.

Getting called out wasn’t as embarrassing when he was standing in front of you looking like a whole damn 5 course meal with desserts on the side. You nodded, almost absentmindedly, mumbling a dazed "sorry, prof" before quickly snapping out of it and looking down at your laptop.

You reminded yourself, for the nth time, that he was a middle aged man and probably happily married judging by how much he was flaunting his ring.

You sighed, noticing how absurd your own thoughts were. Suddenly, your friend nudged you, making you tense up. "You just said that out loud." She whispered, biting her lips to stifle a laugh when she saw your absolutely petrified expression. You quickly turned to look at Matt, your face burning and hoping against hope that he didn’t hear that, but to your dismay he seemed awfully amused not to have heard it.

You could’ve sworn you heard him snicker quietly to himself before he turned around and walked back to the board, thankfully not making any comments about your slip up.

𓆩♡𓆪

The day finally ended, leaving you with the embarrassing memory of the lecture earlier today and your remaining desire for the 36 year old lecturer that just started working at the university you go to about three days ago.

A dilf indeed.

You couldn’t help yourself, you’ve always had a thing for older guys and it didn’t help that he was exactly your type to the tea. From his slightly cocky confidence to the small hint of sarcasm he used in everyday speech just made your clit throb for attention.

He had also mentioned on the first day about his daughter who’s still in middle school, playfully asking advice about teenagers.

"Damnit, what’s wrong with me?" You sighed, rubbing your temple as you walked down the almost empty hall until you reached the door to his office. Taking a deep breath, you gently knocked on the door, waiting with batted breath until you heard a soft "come in" from inside. You opened the door and slipped inside with a small stack of papers in your hand.

Matt looked up, his glasses still perched on his nose and his already messy hair slightly more disheveled as his keyboards clicked softly with each of his taps. "What brings you here?" He looked back at his computer, typing in a few things before looking at you again. "Well?"

You snapped out of your tiny trance and walked over to him, putting the papers on his desk. "Uh, Dr. Lexi told me to give these to you." You said as you stepped back, looking at his ring that never failed to catch your eyes.

His eyes followed your gaze and landed on his ring, raising his eyebrows in amusement as he looked back at you. "Thanks-" he paused before continuing, fidgeting slightly with his wedding ring. "-You seem to really... like? my wedding ring huh?" He chuckled, taking it off and setting it aside before leaning forward with his elbows on the desk. "You curious?"

His speech was informal and casual even though he was a lecturer, but that seemed to soothe your nerves a tiny bit.

"Uhm... May I ask what you mean by if I’m curious?" His smirk widened ever so slightly at the confusion in your tone. "Oh, what I mean by that is... Do you wanna know if I’m still married? You seem unable to take your eyes off of it." He mused, tilting his head slightly to the side, the cockiness exuding from his tone didn't go unnoticed by you.

Was he enjoying this?

You opened your mouth to say something, but closed it as nothing came out and the only thing you could do was nod. Matt’s smirk turned into a lopsided grin, "There you go, it wasn’t so hard to admit it now was it?" He twirled the silver ring around his fingers.

"Well, to answer your question sweetheart – I’m not married." He leaned back in his chair, a small chuckle escaping him. "This is just to ward off women you know?" He looked at you, his blue eyes looked almost... hypnotizing in the golden hour glow.

Oh, so he knew how attractive he was huh?

You felt like you were in a trance as you looked at him, your eyes slowly raking down his face until it landed on his pink kissable lips, you wondered how they would taste. Your gaze travelled to his beard – the stubble only adding to the whole dilf aura he had going on.

"Earth to Miss Dilf Lover." He chuckled, shamelessly joking, leaning forward to get your attention.

You blinked, only now realising that you’ve been staring at him without saying anything like a creep. "Y-yes Prof. Sturniolo?" You almost, almost, cursed out loud at the stutter in your voice. A genuine chuckle left Matt’s lips and the sound left your panties drenched.

"Why don’t you come here?" He patted his lap, smirking as he waited for you to either decline or tell him he was crazy, but he did not think you would actually comply and sit on his lap facing him, but was he complaining? Nope, not one bit.

A small, surprised chuckle rumbled in his chest, his hands immediately finding your hips as his tongue darted out to lick his lips. His lips curled into a slow grin.

Damn, did he like this.

𓆩♡𓆪

Before you knew it, you were already dry humping his thigh, your cheeks slightly flushed with both embarrassment and desire.

You quickly picked up a quick rhythm, shamelessly satisfying yourself on his thigh, letting out soft moans—which went straight to his dick. A muscle in his jaw twitched when he clenched his jaw, biting back a groan at your sounds and the way you needily rubbed yourself on him.

You couldn’t help the whine that left your lips when he held your hips tightly, halting your movements completely. The desperation in your tone made him chuckle in amusement. "What’s wrong sweetheart? You stopped moving." He asked even though he was the one that stopped you. His tone was full of concern, but you knew better... or did you? After all, you were dry humping on your lecturer’s thigh—whom you’ve known for four days max.

Fuck it.

"Please Prof, let me- let me move." A breathless plea rolled out, followed by your breath hitching slightly when he shifted, his thigh pressing perfectly against your clothed clit. The sensation made you let out a small moan.

"Well, fuck me," Matt breathed out, "You are sooo desperate aren’t you?" He smirked despite the painfully stiff bulge tenting the front of his pants and the way his chest heaved with ragged breaths—barely controlled desire.

Your eyes rolled back briefly when he suddenly ground you hard on his thigh, the friction left your hips jerking slightly. "Oh-- ffuuck." Your mouth went slack when he started to ground you on his thigh, his fingers digging into your hips as he controlled your movements.

Your hands quickly found their way onto his shoulders, a chocked moan leaving your mouth when he pulled you forward just right.

It was a bit embarrassing how quickly you started to feel that taut feeling in your stomach, but you were too into it to really think about how desperate you were.

"Sh-shit-- I’m gonna- gonna cum." You moaned softly, your head falling forward to bury your face in his shoulder, effectively muffling your moans and it turning into small whimpers instead.

Your movements grew jerky as you got closer, your breath hitching more and more. "C’mon, come for me baby." Matt turned his head subtly and whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

His words combined with the relentless friction against your clothed clit was all that was needed for you to climax. A drawn out moan left your lips when you came, your back arching and your hands clutching his shoulders tighter. Your hips jerked and twitched in sync with the aftershocks running through you.

"Good girl." He praised, his voice raspy from how turned on he was.

𓆩♡𓆪

Matt let you stay seated on his thigh for a few more minutes, letting you catch your breath. He shifted in his seat, his erection was so damn uncomfortable and painful by now, but he didn’t say anything about it.

Boundaries.

As much as he wanted to bend you over the desk and take you right then and there – he knew you would let him and he could tell you wanted him too – but he also knew where to set the boundaries.

Matt cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. "Well, would you look at the time?" He rasped, "I think it’s about time I go, I’ve a meeting in 10 minutes after all." He lied, watching as you lifted your head, nodding slowly before you climbed off his lap.

"R-right, I-uh, I'll take my leave. Uhm, have a good afternoon Prof." You mumbled quickly, the small hint of disappointment didn’t go unnoticed by Matt. You took your phone from his desk, where you had put it, and scurried out of his office, haphazardly fixing your hair and clothes on your way out.

Matt sighed, slumping back in his seat, gazing down at his boner. He ran his hand through his hair, utterly confused as to why he did what he did just now.

This was bad.

"What the fuck is wrong with me? I can’t possibly start falling for my student..." He trailed off, realising he might have already fallen. "Great, Matt, just great." He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands in frustration.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆.ᐟ | 𝒘𝒄 – 𝟏.𝟕 𝒌 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

⋆˚࿔ 𝒊𝒔𝒂’𝒔 𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ .ᐟ Sooo I’ve been shit at posting lately but uh... here is something that has been collecting dust in my drafts until I had enough motivation to finish it 🤗 Also, look at the cute bow divider I made it’s adorb 😔

[professorsnape394]

DAY 13: Unexpected Encounters

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

Rating: 🥰

Prompt: Journey

Summary: Snape is interrupted by a beautiful stranger on the journey to back to Hogwarts.

A/N: Feel like we're long over due for a cute lil fluffy piece, so here ya go :-) Comment if you're interested in a possible part 2 to this one?

Warnings:  None.

Word Count: 1977

Credits to Gif Creator.

The journey to Hogwarts was one of the few things that brought peace to Severus’ life. As a child, it meant finally escaping the wrath of his abusive father. As a teen, it meant getting to see his best friend after months spent apart. And as an adult, it meant escaping the loneliness of Spinner’s End where memories of his childhood still haunted him. Severus often spent the majority of the ride reading, occasionally turning his attention out the window to appreciate the scenic views of the Scottish Highlands; it was his last moment of peace before another year at Hogwarts spent surrounded by insufferable children and prying colleagues.

It was known by this point in his career that he liked to keep to himself on the train journey, and pretty much any other time, so the other professors granted him his privacy and left him to occupy a carriage alone. Which is why he was shocked to be interrupted such a short time into the journey.

The doors to the cabin shot open, rattling riskily in the frame. They parted to reveal an attractive young woman; dripping wet and gasping breathlessly.

“Oh, thank God.” She exhaled, shuffling her single suitcase through the doors, quickly abandoning it in the middle of the carriage, sparing no thought for Severus’ personal space.

“I’ve never seen a train so busy before. This is the first free carriage I’ve found today.”

“Did it never cross your mind that maybe there is a reason for that?” Severus droned, not bothering to look up from his book.

Ignoring his underhanded comment, Y/N immediately plonked herself down opposite him.

Barely a beat had passed before she started shedding herself of the sodden layers that had been protecting her from the adverse weather conditions outside. Hat, scarfs, jumpers and a thick woollen coat were quickly discarded to the space next to her. As she fumbled about with her gloves, Severus took the opportunity to evaluate her properly.

Despite seeming breathless, presumably from running late for the train, her pearly white smile had not yet faltered.

The rain had drowned her hair; soft waves becoming strings of tight curls, dripping puddles onto her previously dry shirt. Her pale cheeks flushed red from the harshness of the cold air. But what ultimately drew Severus in the most was her sparkling pale blue eyes, dazzling him with their glimmering curiosity as she too scrutinised him.

He arched a single brow in her direction, shaking himself from the daze she had induced in him.  

“Y/N.” She held her hand out for him to take.

 “Sorry?”

“That’s my name; Y/N.”

Severus’ eyes darted between the woman and the pages of his book, debating whether to engage. With a sigh he folded shut his book, but did not bother to accept her hand.

“A pleasure to meet you.” He sneered sarcastically.

“Ah, so you must be Severus.” She grinned. “The potion’s master I believe, I was always good potions in school.”

Snape’s interest piqued.

“How do you know who I am?”

“A family member told me.”

“The same one you are off to visit?”

“And how do you know I am visiting anyone?” It was her turn to raise an eyebrow at him.

“The size of your suitcase; you don’t plan on staying long.”

“Maybe I’m just a new professor who knows how to pack light.”

“You are not a professor.” He stated matter-of-factly, practically scoffing at the insinuation.

“I’m offended. I could be a professor if I wanted to.”

“You’re too young.” Severus looked her up and down; none of his colleagues looked like her.

“And what age were you when you first started teaching?” She challenged, folding her arms across her chest.  

Snape smirked. “You know a lot about me, when I know so little of you.”

“I do my research.” She smirked

“So, are you going to tell me?” He quickly side-tracked the conversation.

“Tell you what?”

“Who you’re visiting.”

“No.”

Severus shot her a questioning glance.

“Once I tell you, you’ll look at me differently.” Y/N explained.

“And how am I looking at you now?”

“…Curiously.”

Severus shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“I’m curious who you could possibly be visiting who would not also be accompanying you on the train.”

“You’ll find out soon enough, but I do not wish to rush the process.”

Severus sighed, sensing this was not an issue the woman would be moved on.

“I do not believe that a person’s parentage dictates who they are. Whatever I think of you now will not change once I discover who your relation is.”

“You say that now, but it’s not something you can control. It happens to everyone when they find out who I am.” The look in her eyes told him this was an issue that really bothered her.

Snape leaned back in his chair, eying the woman inquisitively. He found himself wanting to know everything about her, but was too nervous to ask anything at all.

Y/N broke eye contact first, hunching herself over to get access to her suitcase.

“What are you doing?” He questioned, watching an array of multi-coloured fabrics spill out of the trunk; his eyes caught on a particularly lacy garment before he averted his gaze, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“I’m looking forrrr… this!” She brandished a small tin box at him.

“And that is?”

“Cookies.” She grinned. “I never go on a long journey without baking myself a batch; their delicious, and a great conversation starter.”

She thrust the container out to him.

“I believe we have already started our conversation.”

“But their delicious.” She repeated, exaggerating her words. Severus’ eyes dropped to her peachy lips.

Sighing, he gave in and accepted the box from her.

“What are they?”

“Oatmeal and raisin.”

“You do not seem like an oatmeal and raisin type of girl.”

“And you do not seem like a triple chocolate chunk kind of guy. So be grateful I had some ingredients that I needed to get rid of. And I might have eaten all the chocolate myself before I had the chance to bake them.” She blushed.

Severus couldn’t help himself from smirking. The embarrassed look on her face refreshing to him after pinning her as an overconfident know-it-all. Plus, she looked adorable.

Her eyes widened at him.

“Are you smiling?” She gawked.

“I’ve been known to do that occasionally.”

“That’s not what I’ve been told.”

“Then you do not know everything, Miss …?” He waited for her to fill in the blank, she only shook her head in response.

“Why are you smiling.”

Severus thought for a moment if he wanted to expose himself for thinking she was adorable. It was too soon to show all of his cards so willingly, but he didn’t want to lie to the woman, so…

“Oatmeal and Raisin are my favourite cookies.” He admitted, finally plucking one from the box.

“Then the universe was on your side, Severus Snape. It’s destiny.”

Severus was beginning to think she wasn’t entirely wrong about that.

~

Chucking the half-eaten box of cookies to her, Y/N showed no intention of closing her suitcase and removing it from the middle of the floor. It had quickly become chaos in their carriage and it was slowly starting to get on Severus’ nerves.

“Does this chaos come naturally to you or is it a learned skill?” He quipped.

Y/N’s jaw dropped at his audacity.

“Is my mess bothering you, Severus?”

“It bothered me when you first barged your way in here. Now, it’s borderline unbearable to look at.” His eyes flicked back to the piece of black lingerie sticking out the side of her case.

The young woman bent over once more, tucking all of her garment away and finally zipped the case shut. She neatly folded her piles of scarfs and coat, placing the cookie tin squarely on top.

“Happy now?”

“I’d be more inclined to say yes, if 90% of the floor wasn’t still occupied by your suitcase. There are compartments for them, you know?”

“I know.”

“So, you’re actively choosing to be a nuisance?”

She blushed again, this time avoiding complete eye contact with him.

“I can’t reach, okay? And even if I could it’s far too heavy for me to lift on my own.”

Severus grunted, satisfied with her excuse.

He stood to his full height, grabbing the handle of her case with ease.

“What are you doing?”

“Clearing some space.”

“You’re helping me?” She said, shocked, watching him lift her suitcase into the overhead compartment.

“I’m putting my mind at ease. I cannot sit for much longer in such cramped confines.”

“Strong as well as smart.” She teased. “You’re not at all the man I imagined.”

“Don’t speak too soon. Your opinion will surely change when we arrive at Hogwarts.”

“Why would it change?”

“Because I am not the man you think I am.”

“But you are the man you have shown me to be.”

“Don’t be so sure of that.”

“I’m very sure. You are more this man, than the man I have heard stories about. You have entertained me this entire journey when you simply could have chosen to ignore me. You gain nothing by helping me.”

“You’re wrong.” He raised the last quarter of his cookie to her, before popping it into his mouth with a smirk.

“I don’t care who you show me you are when we get to Hogwarts Severus. It will not change my opinion of you.”

“What is your opinion of me.” He couldn’t help but ask.

“I like you. You’re a good man, behind all of those scowls and sneers.”

Severus wasn’t quite sure how to respond. He had never illicit this reaction from a stranger before, in fact most people didn’t even bother to introduce themselves now adays. His reputation often proceeded him, in the worst possible way.

“Tell me who you’re visiting.” He ventured again.

“No.”

“Why not.”

“I told you; I don’t want- “

“You don’t want me to look at you differently. But how can you still say that after everything you have just said to me.”

“Because it is not me that you’re forming an opinion of. My last name carries more weight than my personality could ever compete with.”

Severus didn’t push the subject anymore, after all, he would find out shortly. The train wasn’t far off its final destination, and Snape found himself wanting to savour what little time they had left together before they seemingly became two entirely different people.

They chatted about a wide variety of subjects ranging from Potions, to the views outside, to what else Y/N loved to bake. Talking to her was easy, like playing a game of tennis; one person set up the serve for the other to rebuttal with perceived ease, each of them trying their best to throw the other off their game, challenging them both the new heights they might never have otherwise reached.

When they pulled into the station Severus helped Y/N out with her case, allowing her to pile back on her layers of protection from the cold. They stepped off the train in line with each other, unsure of how to begin to part ways.

“There you are!” Minerva McGonagall’s familiar voice screeched through the crowds of excitable students. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you; your grandfather wanted me to escort you to the castle. Let’s go Miss Dumbledore.”

Y/N stared into Severus eyes, looking truly defeated. Severus nodded simply in understanding.

“Will I see you again?” She dared to ask.

“I hope so, Miss Dumbledore.” Severus smiled. “I enjoyed getting to know the real you.”

Y/N beamed up at the Potion’s Master, shaking his hand goodbye.

Severus watched on as she disappeared through crowds of children and the steam of the train’s engine.

He really hoped he would see her again.

.

.

.

Taglist:

@ayamenimthiriel @lizlil @entirelymesmerising @mikariell95 @snapefiction @a-queen-and-her-throne @amazingzou @peridot-pineapple @snapesno1thighrider @kittenlittle24 @forfaehou @caseydoodles98

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Pairing Joel Miller x Daughter Reader

Summary For years, you’ve survived tethered to Joel’s side, haunted by the loss of your sister and scared to step outside of his shadow. So when he bonds with the girl he’s tasked to smuggle, it strains your complicated relationship—until the threat of losing him forces you to confront just how much he means to you [angst, fluff, 5.4k].

A/N This is some of my favorite prose I've written recently. Daughter!reader is a new dynamic for me, but it was such a rewarding writing experience. Thank you to the anon who sent this request in. I hope you all enjoy.

∘°∘♡∘°∘

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆

It’s cold outside today. If the draft sneaking in through the windows isn’t enough to let on, the sky itself is an undeniable sign. There’s no blue, no clouds that can be distinguished from the next. The entire expanse is a pale white sheet. As if the heavens have decided to shield earth from its view because of how far it’s fallen. 

Nevertheless, life in the Boston Quarantine Zone labors on. Day after soulless day, rain or shine. Like a well-oiled machine who’s battered parts of flesh and blood refuse to lay down and die. 

The glass of the living room window is cool against your forehead as you gaze outside. Everything is dull. Brick, metal, concrete, and endless earthtones constitute the expanse of buildings that seemingly stretch for miles. However, after having explored every corner of this walled city, you know it’s finite. A mere portion of a much larger world trying to find its footing again. 

The people walking on the sidewalks below look small from the height of your apartment. All seeming to move on a droning autopilot, clad in worn clothes that likely belonged to ten other people before them. 

With a sigh, you step away from the window and plop back down on the couch. The coffee table is cluttered with stained, old papers and trinkets, but you reach for the stack of Polaroids you’d previously been flipping through. Each photo and caption transports you back to a past moment in time...

tea for two ♡ March 13, 2003 

A day that seems closer than it actually is, now confined to a single, glossy frame. The white border has faded to beige and the picture itself no longer bears its original saturation. In it, you and Sarah are wrapped in each other’s arms, dressed like princesses for the tea party you invited her to. 

You were her three-year-old shadow, and even though you got on her nerves half the time, she found it hard to say no to you. Everybody in the Miller household did. 

lake day!!! July 4, 2003 

A sunny day. You, Sarah, and Joel are squinting into the light but smiling, your backs to the lake. Later that night, according to Joel’s retelling, you cried because of the colorful, celebratory explosions bursting amid the night sky. 

dad’s getting old (jk ily dad) September 26, 2003

Joel’s smile is shy as he sits at the kitchen table with a cone birthday hat on his head. Sarah was the one behind the lens while you clung to her leg, both you and Tommy making goofy faces in hopes of making Joel smile wider. 

He turned thirty-six that day. By that evening, everything had changed. Not just because of the outbreak, but because Sarah, who had been a light in so many of the photos, was gone too. A few months after her fourteenth birthday, no less. 

It feels strange being twenty-three now. An age she never got to see—

The faint metallic clinking of a belt being fastened prompts you to curiously stand to your feet. After setting down the photos, you saunter to the hallway, where there’s a straight view to Joel’s bedroom. The door is cracked, and warm lamplight pours out to light the end of the hall. With each step closer you take, the old, wooden floorboards creak. 

When you make it to the door, you rap your knuckles against it a few soft times. There’s shuffling on the other side. 

You knock again when there’s no response. “Dad?” 

“What’s up?” he doesn’t say it in a clipped, annoyed way so you know he hadn’t heard your previous knocking. 

“Can I come in?” 

He’s quiet for a beat. “I’m finishing up getting dressed. But yeah.”

Inside, the bed still isn’t made. He’s standing in front of the full body mirror leaning against the wall. The paint of the gold trim around it is peeling, revealing the dark aluminum beneath. The glass itself is a bit foggy with stubborn grime that refuses to be scrubbed away. And right in the middle, at the same height that Joel stands, is a sizable spiderweb crack that makes his face look fragmented unless he bends down or shifts to either the left or right. 

Right now, he doesn’t seem to mind the distortion of his face, more interested in assessing his clothes. When you step up behind him, a little to the right, your entire body looks whole. Face and all. 

His eyes briefly flick to you as he continues to button the rest of his olive colored shirt. When he’s finished, he sucks in his stomach and pushes down the waistband of his dark jeans to rest at a more comfortable place on his hips. 

It isn’t until then that you notice a small portion of the back of his shirt is flipped up, the fabric thick enough to hold its place. You reach out to smooth it down. Joel hums in realization. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles. 

“Yep,” you murmur. “I thought you were off today.” 

Turning around and brushing past you, he sits in the accent chair to put on his boots. A grunt escapes him with the effort of leaning down. You watch as his thick, battered fingers fumble with the laces until they produce two neat bows. He sits back with a sigh when he’s done, running a hand through his fluffy, silvering hair. 

“I’m meeting with Marlene,” he says. The way you frown tells him that’s not a good thing, or nearly enough information. “Tess will be there too. It’s looking like we might be able to get that car battery we need to set out for Tommy.” 

You process that information with a slow nod. The idea of finding him feels elusive these days. 

A few weeks ago, Marlene told Joel she knew a couple guys who could provide resources. At various points in the months prior, she claimed the very same thing. Every promise she made fell flat because those said contacts either died or backed out of the negotiation. Yet, Joel held out hope every time. 

It used to be you who accompanied him whenever he went to meet with Marlene, but it’d gotten to the point where you couldn’t bring yourself to believe her or stand seeing her face. 

But Joel still did. For the sake of his own conscience. For Tommy. 

After standing from the chair, he fishes into his back pocket for a red cardstock meal card. When you reach out to take it from him, he doesn’t let go, instead opting to look directly into your eyes. 

“Want you to meet us for lunch at the northern dining commons at noon. We should be done by then,” he says, waiting for you to nod so he knows you’re tracking. 

“Don’t leave before then, alright? It’s getting crazier out there. Don’t know if it’s ‘cause summer’s coming or what.” 

“I won’t,” you insist. 

When you try to take the card again, he holds onto it just for the sake of coaxing a smile out of you. It doesn’t quite meet your eyes, but it’s enough to tie him over for now. He lets go of it just as you’re in the middle of pulling, and the lack of resistance makes you stumble backwards. The sound of amusement he huffs out earns him a light punch to the shoulder. 

“I mean it, though.” He points a finger. “Don’t leave till it’s time, alright? We’ll fill you in on everything then.” 

Rolling your eyes, you follow him back out into the living room. “I already said I wouldn’t.” 

“Well, reiterating is my job.” 

Those are the words he leaves you with before heading out the door.  

A few hours later, when the clock strikes twelve, you’re eating at the dining commons alone. Anxiousness prickles beneath your skin. You soothe yourself as chatter and the clinking of silverware float up all around you…

Everything’s fine. Joel’s alright. Tess is alright. Just finish eating and go home. 

•••

Sunset paints the sky that evening. The clouds that lingered all day have finally made way for an expressionist ombre of blue, pink, and orange. It's beautiful in a way that would’ve been worth photographing once upon a time. 

All you can think about is the fact that Joel hasn’t returned. 

A little past seven, voices arise in the hallway. They’re hushed and somewhat frustrated, one of them undeniably belonging to Joel. By the time keys hastily begin jingling in the door, you’re popping to your feet from the couch. A second later, it swings open with enough force that it hits the neighboring wall. 

“Get inside,” Joel orders. You can’t see him from where you’re standing. 

You can’t see anybody. 

“I don’t have to keep listening to you,” quips a tight, youthful voice. “Whatever happened to stranger danger?”  

“Move, Ellie,” Joel says. “Before I make you.” 

A young girl wearing a backpack trudges into the apartment with a scowl. After looking around the bleak accommodation, her eyes settle on you. The air falls silent. You note the wispy flyaways escaping her short ponytail, the slight redness to her eyes like she’s been either crying or rubbing them. 

Ellie sizes you up in return. You can see it in the calculated rove of her dark gaze, the way she squares her shoulder to match your guardedness. 

She eventually whips her attention back to Joel. “Who the hell is she?” 

“Told you I didn’t live alone.” That’s all he gives her before redirecting his attention to you. He seldom reveals the entirety of what he’s feeling in a given moment, but you can see the guilt weighing down on his shoulders. “I—” 

“You missed lunch.” 

He runs a heavy hand down his face. “I know.” 

The girl looks between the two of you with owl-like attentiveness that borders on amusement. At least she wasn’t the only one having a shitty day. Outside, shouting voices arise in the distance. Glass bottles break. 

“Dad. You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Ellie’s eyes widen at the revelation. 

Joel doesn’t say anything because you’re staring daggers straight into his very being.  

“I’m immune to the virus,” she speaks up. There’s a hint of pride in her tone, like she’s looking past the present to some undefined future in which she saves the world.  

“He’s gonna take me to the people who can find the cure. Then you guys are gonna go find Timmy or whatever—Tommy.”  

It’s an oversimplification, but Joel doesn’t have the energy to expound right now. Not when you look like you would lunge for him if it wasn’t for the girl.

••• 

Later that night, he sees the first shove coming. Your eyes darken until you’re no longer able to constrain your frustration to a mere look. It frustrates you all the more when he doesn’t budge. So you do it again, pushing both your hands straight into his chest. 

All he does is take a single step backwards to create distance, hands raised in surrender. The fact that he isn’t reacting makes more heat consume your face. 

Until, finally, he grabs your wrists. 

“Are you done acting like a child?” he asks.

“As soon as you quit treating me like one,” you bark. “All you do is give orders and break promises, and I’m supposed to keep following you around like a dog.” 

“I don’t see any shackles.”

“Because it’s you,” you retort, attempting to pull away from his light hold. “You’re the shackles, the prison guard, and the key.” 

Those words make him drop your wrists as if you’ve stung him with poison. He takes a seat on the edge of his bed and drops his head into his hands with a heavy sigh. The mattress creaks under his weight. In the new silence, you stand and stare at him as your breaths even out. 

Neither of you are aware that Ellie has her ear pressed to the other side of the bedroom door, listening. 

When he lifts his head, only then are you aware of how tired and worn down he looks. His hair is more disheveled than it was this morning. The same hair you used to playfully run your fingers through and litter with sparkly hair clips. Except now, his face is void of a smile. 

“I’m sorry about lunch, alright?” His dark eyes search yours for any inkling of forgiveness. He knows he scared you. That’s what’s beneath your anger. “I didn’t know I was gonna get held up like that.” 

Joel Miller was a lot of things, but a pushover wasn’t one of them. 

If he really wanted to, he could’ve at least come to the dining commons to explain. Or ignore Marlene’s request entirely, and force her to find someone else to smuggle the girl. Even Tess had refused to involve herself in the escape plan because she feared it would be all risk and no reward.

“What happens if these guys turn out to be dead too?” You ask Joel, voice softer than before. “What if this is yet another exchange that falls through?” 

He knows you have a point. He also knows he has a brother out there miles away who recently sent him a signal. 

“If there’s a chance, I gotta take it,” he says. “And if we get out there and nobody’s waiting for us, we’re heading to Wyoming anyway.” He meets your gaze. 

You swallow and blink in surprise. “Really?” 

“I’m done waiting around for the right time,” he says, voice low but firm. “It’s never gonna come. Gotta forge it ourselves.” 

He sounds sure. Right now, you could use something to believe in. And if nothing else, a change of scenery from the city walls you’ve been confined within for far too long. 

•••

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑

𝐈.

The Capitol Building is empty when you arrive, no sight of the men who were supposed to take Ellie and give you and Joel the supplies you need to carry on. For a while, the three of you linger hopefully on the inside, where grass grows through the chipped marble floors. The only people who eventually arrive are ridden with the virus, their rotting bodies infested with fungus from the inside out. 

You promptly flee the scene after swallowing disappointment like a pill. 

𝐈𝐈.

The front door of Bill and Frank’s house is unlocked when you arrive in the desolate suburbia. Dead grass and tall weeds constitute the yard. The flower beds out front have long wilted. That’s enough for you to know that they’re either dead or gone. Joel pushes into the house anyway, with you and Ellie trailing behind. Bill left a note behind. They’re dead. Ellie asks questions about them that Joel thoughtfully answers.

The three of you take turns showering, then leave.

𝐈𝐈𝐈.

By early August, the trio feels more like a unit, having been bound together by shared letdowns and long nights under the stars. Some days, you don’t know where you are until coming across specific landmarks or recognizable cliffs. You and Joel teach Ellie how to shoot because she wouldn’t stop begging. Most days, as you’re making progress towards Wyoming, it’s the two of you trailing behind Joel, who often shoots unreadable glances over his shoulder to make sure you’re keeping up. 

Sometimes he lets down his walls to offer a small smile. 

•••

𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋

All around, tall trees stretch towards the sky, bearing vibrant leaves beginning to change colors. Every so often, a breeze rolls through and ruffles them. The same mourning dove has been calling out into the wind with no response in return. It’s a tune that filled the mornings of your childhood back when you were on the road to Boston with Joel. You hadn’t heard it much since. 

Twigs and leaves crunch beneath your boots as you squat to lower your fingertips into the creek. The water is cool against your skin, and clear enough to see the rocks at the bottom. When you stand up, you startle at the sight of Ellie standing a few yards away. She takes a few apologetic steps back, almost tripping over herself. 

Further away, Joel sits with his back propped against a tree as he reorganizes the contents of his backpack. 

“Jesus, El,” you sigh, pressing a hand to your chest over your heart. 

Ellie no longer seems sure of her reason for approaching you. There were times when she didn’t look her age—whether it be her stare or the way she carried herself—but this wasn’t one. Now, an air of self-consciousness surrounds her, like she’s caught between knowing nothing and everything all at once. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me,” she rushes out. There’s a pang of guilt when you realize she thinks you’re angry. 

“No, it’s fine,” you insist, softening your tone. “I’ve just been in my head.” 

She nods and feels more comfortable to step up alongside you. 

“I’ve seen those pictures you’ve been looking at.” She continues when you don’t say anything, “Was that your sister?” 

Neither you or Joel have brought her up, but your silence is an answer. 

“What was she like?” 

“I don’t remember much.” 

Only bits and pieces. The larger gaps have been filled in by Joel over the years. He never talks about Sarah at length, but sometimes he’ll see something or you’ll make an expression that reminds him of her. That usually prompted him to tell a short story. Oftentimes, without meeting your eyes because he was too busy trying to busy his restless hands. Talking about her always makes him fidget. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I know what it’s like to lose someone.” 

Ignoring her, you ask, “Did Joel say when we were gonna start back hiking?” 

Embarrassed, Ellie clears her throat and shakes her head no. “Why do you use his first name like that?” You almost hadn’t realized. 

“Force of habit.” Her brows have furrowed in confusion, so you explain, “Half the time, people in the QZ only listened to me when I threw his name in the mix. It holds a lot of weight among certain groups these days.” 

“Like he’s the boogeyman or something?”

You allow a small chuckle to escape at her words. She feels like it earns her a place back in your good graces. Pride glimmers in the grin that stretches across her face. 

“Something like that,” you agree. 

The familiar crunch of leaves rises as Joel makes the short venture over to the two of you. When he sees the fleeting smiles on your faces, he clears his throat and waits to see if he’ll be invited into whatever small moment of amusement had arisen. He seems to have just missed it. 

“Speaking of the devil,” Ellie says, 

Joel frowns, remaining quiet as he walks up to the edge of the creek. He stares into the bottom for a few thoughtful seconds. Both of you watch as he squats down to splash his face with water, humming with refreshment. 

Ellie no sooner moves to copy him. She laughs, a bubbly surprised sound, as she stands with her face dripping and eyes squeezed shut.

“Wait, how do I—” 

“Use your shirt,” Joel quips lightly. 

“Oh, yeah!” She uses her shirt to dry her eyes just as he had.

The chuckle that rumbles through Joel’s chest is a sound you haven’t heard in a while. It makes you stand up straighter, unconsciously shifting his way as if the sound has the power to heal that part of you that misses him even when he’s within reach. Misses how things were before he grew hard and consumed with the need to survive. 

You didn’t fault him for it, though. 

What’s become increasingly clear, however, is that need was born as much out of spite as it was out of the pure, unadulterated will to live. The end of the world took Sarah, and to Joel, ensuring the two of you endured no matter what was his fuck you to the universe. His proof that everything he cared about couldn’t be ripped from his hands. It was a muddled labor of love. 

But right here, right now, he’s laughing. Not urging silence or trying to instill a survival lesson. He’s letting the moment wash over him for what it is. There you stand watching the two of them like a mere onlooker frozen in place. The entire scene is reminiscent of a different time. A different Joel. 

Something heavy and bitter settles in your stomach at the sight of their twin smiles. 

“Are you gonna try it?” Ellie asks like she’s referring to some grand experience.

“It’s just water,” you say flatly. 

Face falling, Ellie looks to the ground as if the bridge connecting you two had been burned yet again. Something protective flares in Joel’s chest. 

He gives you a pointed look. “You feelin’ alright?” 

“I’m great. Grand even.” 

The air shifts, levity disappearing like a vapor. All three of you can feel it.

“Let’s keep moving then.”

For weeks, you keep it moving. Through rain, shine, and snow. The closer you get to Wyoming, the further away you drift from Ellie and Joel. Like you’re the corner piece of an island that’s been chipped away from the larger landmass. 

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑

Arriving at the Jackson commune does little to mend things back to the way they were. Some days pass by with more conversation and laughter between the three of you than others. Coming here had been the very thing you longed for, right alongside Joel. But tonight, as you fold clothes at the secondhand store where you volunteer, you wonder what there is to dream about now. 

You don’t know what you like or want. You were so young when the outbreak began that Joel’s practices and motivations became your own. You don’t know where he ends and you begin, and the inability to distinguish makes a part of you resent him. 

The bells above the door jingle as Ellie enters with her backpack slung over her shoulder. Half of her hair is pulled into a ponytail, while the other falls in loose waves just past her shoulders. For once, it looks like she brushed it properly. 

You see more of her than Joel these days. 

“Hey, I’m gonna go over to Dina’s,” she says as she pads over to you. “Joel’s not home yet so I figured I’d come tell you.” She absentmindedly runs her hand over the cashmere sweater you’d folded minutes prior to her arrival. 

You set down the pair of jeans you just finished folding. “He’s not?” 

“No,” she says, unphased. “Probably went straight to the dining hall.” 

A dull, gnawing sense of worry arises in your chest. Ellie can’t see it or feel it herself, still tending to believe Joel was somehow invincible. That every time he went out for patrol, he was bound to return because that’s what he’d proven to her so far. 

“Be safe, okay?” you tell her. “Thanks for letting me know.” 

When she leaves, you head to the store owner in the back room. He’s rummaging through a huge box of donated items. 

“Hey, Stewart?”

There’s a click as two glasses knock into one another. “Goddammit—what?” He straightens up to turn around and face you. 

He has a head full of wiry gray hair and his glasses are crooked on his nose. There’s a light sheen of sweat beading on his forehead. 

“You alright back here?” you tease lightly. He grumbles and waves you off. “Would it be okay if I clocked out early? Natalie and Craig are out there, so you’ll still have help until closing.” It’s been pretty slow this evening anyways. No chance a random rush would occur. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want, kid.” He huffs and looks back down at the box. “I’ll see you on Thursday.” 

“You’re the best, Stew.” You flash him a playful smile. 

Outside, you shiver at how cold it’s grown. Crossing your arms over your chest does little to alleviate the creeping chill. The first snow of the season has yet to fall, but you can feel it lingering in the crisp air. Nevertheless, Jackson Hole is buzzing. People of all ages flit in and out of shops and gathering spaces. Everywhere you look, there’s a friendly face, if not an actual friend. 

This time of year, the entire commune is reminiscent of those cute Christmas village displays. Plush wreaths with red bows hang on wooden posts, and colorful fairy lights shine all around. The most activity buzzes over at the dining hall. Families talk and laugh on the benches outside, and you can see people walking around inside through the windows. 

As you head that way, the two men standing on the patrol office porch capture your attention. It was probable that Joel was inside either logging or assessing his hours. 

When you make it to the building, you recognize the taller man as Cameron, someone who often partnered with Joel because they had the same, collected, no-nonsense way about them. They automatically nod to you in greeting, but their lips are set in firm lines like they have news you don’t. 

You offer a shaky smile back as a lump forms in your throat, “Evening.” 

Your heart rate speeds up as Cameron opens the door for you. Inside, six men stand circled around Tommy, who’s tone is firm as he talks with his hands. Some have rifles slung over their shoulders, and others have pistols on their hips. Standing among the group is Lyle, a younger guy who was scheduled to be Joel’s partner today. 

The only person missing is Joel. 

You allow your eyes to rove over the plaques, portraits, and retired weaponry decorating the walls as you await the end of Tommy’s lecture.  

“Let what happened out there today be a lesson—” Tommy stops talking when his eyes fall on you, and other heads turn to look your way. A few throats are cleared, necks are scratched. 

“Hold on a second, fellas.” He breaks out of the circle and heads towards you, cowboy boots clunking against the wood floorboards. There’s a rifle draped across his body like he’s ready for action. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says softly, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder. He doesn’t have to say anything for you to gather what this meeting is all about. Everybody has discretely turned to look at the two of you. 

“Tommy…” 

“Why don’t we step outside for a second, yeah?” He places a gentle hand at the small of your back to guide you back out into the cold. Cameron and his buddy slip inside out of respect for your privacy. 

“What’s going on, Tommy?” 

He wrestles with how to answer. You see it in his dark eyes, the way he shifts his stance. His cheeks are a bit flushed. 

“Joel hasn’t made it back,” he breathes. “Lyle made it in without him around an hour ago. Said they ran into some disgruntled nomads and got split up,” he says. “Got a few people out looking for him now, and I’m about to go out myself.” 

How foolish you’ve been acting these past several weeks hits you all at once. Everything from purposely distancing yourself from Joel, to occasionally ignoring him whenever he tried to ask how you’ve been—you’d made a point to be away from the house as much as possible. Most of all, it’d been foolish to pretend he wasn’t one of the only people in the world you wouldn’t be able to live without.

A stinging sensation pricks in your eyes, but no tears form. You don’t have it in you to cry. Helplessness crashes down on you in the form of frustration. 

“What do you mean came back without him?” you ask. “What good are patrol partners if they’re just gonna leave you behind—” 

“Hey. Hey.” Tommy looks at you intently. His eyes are so much like Joel’s that you look away. “This ain’t the time to be pointing fingers, alright? When you’re out there like that and shit hits the fan, you don’t know how you’ll react.” 

“Definitely not by leaving my partner behind.” 

Joel had never left you behind. Things had gone sideways time after time again, but you managed to remain by each other’s side. 

Worry radiates off of you in waves. 

“I’m worried out my ass too,” Tommy admits, trying to assure you. “But judging other people ain’t gonna bring him back any faster,” he says. 

When release a heavy exhale and slink your head down, Tommy steps forwards to wrap his arms around you. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he promises. “You eaten dinner yet?” 

“I’ll probably throw up if I do.” 

He pulls away to look at you under the soft glow of the porchlight. “Let’s at least try to get a little something in your system, okay? I’ll walk you over to the dining hall.” Tommy guides you that way, and everything around you seems to fade in and out as you walk. 

Tommy’s words manage to break through to you, “I know my brother. He’ll make it back one way or another,” 

He always did. Maybe a bite to eat didn’t sound so bad. 

•••

The unyielding weight of your nerves forces sleep to find you when you make it home. Not in your bed, but on the couch as you sit and wait for Joel’s return. Worrying has taken a lot out of you. 

Creaky footsteps arise out on the porch. Then the lock clicks. Neither of which you register. By the time Joel is walking in through the front door, your eyes flutter open. There’s a slight sway to his stride like he’s favoring one leg. Other than that, he’s still in one piece. You’re on your feet in an instant, ignoring the crick in your neck. 

“Oh my god, Dad—thank god.” 

Joel stops in his tracks as you hurry over to him. He lets you look him over as if he’s a child who just fell off a bike. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” there’s a rasp to his voice.  

Relief is written all over your face. It’s the most interest you’ve shown in him in weeks, but he’s grateful for it anyways. He’s grateful for any mind you’re willing to pay him. 

There’s so much you want to say—I thought I lost you, don’t scare me like that again, I love you—but none of it comes out. Instead, it’s all packed into the way you step forward to throw your arms around him. 

But even hugging him brings you close enough. 

Luckily, he’s so tall and broad that you settle for the feeling of being safe, cocooned in his arms. He squeezes you, not in the playful way that used to be a means of making you smile, but in a way that solidifies his presence. Assures you that he’s never going to let go. That you don’t have to worry about living without him.

As your tears wet his shirt, he doesn’t ease up or pull away. He remains constant like he’s been throughout your entire life, even on the days you thought you wanted him to disappear. 

He presses a lingering kiss to the top of your head and you’re overcome with warmth.  

“I love you to pieces,” his voice is low and thick with sincerity. “So much it hurts.” 

It’s you who reluctantly pulls away to look up into his eyes. 

“I love you too,” you murmur, cheeks glistening with tears. 

The tears gathered in his eyes finally spill over. He doesn't turn away or tilt his head back in an attempt to fend them off. They simply roll down his cheeks at your words. You can’t recall seeing him cry since Sarah passed away. Guilt, sympathy, and gratitude swell in your chest. For the years he’s been strong for the both of you, for everyone who’s ever leaned on him in a time of need. He never made it look hard. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For everything. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—” 

“As long as you’re safe, I can handle being ignored.” He manages a small, sad smile. “It ain’t easy growing up during the end of the world.” Few things ever were. 

“It’s a little easier with you.” 

“Just a little?” He asks lightly. 

Both your smiles grow, and as you step back into his arms, every gripe and the chaotic events of the evening fade away.

- 

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all. 

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[junebugsarchive]

𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 . jake kim

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 '𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 / 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 . . . ♡

summary: you and jake used to be as thick as thieves back in middle school, even when he became part of the notorious gang big deal. that is, until a miscommunication and jake's stubbornness leads to a heart-breaking fall out, and you never saw or heard of him until a few years later. now jake wants you back in his life, but are you ready to accept him so willingly again?

pairing: jake kim / kim gimyung x reader

details: slight mentions of harassment . cursing & violence . really, really long (wc 11.9k words, sorry everyone ) . all dividers used are from @cafekitsune, pictures from pinterest !

a/n: first ever work wowow >< this fanfic is mostly just to give u guys a taste of my writing style hehe <3 this has been in my drafts for a long time already... finally got the courage to post! hope u guys love, mwah mwah ♡

                Jake Kim will never forget the day he met you. He was fifteen, in his second year at Gangseo Middle School, sleeping soundly at his desk while the teacher at the front droned on about something - he was too lazy to care anyways.

                "Hey!" Someone suddenly slammed both hands onto his table, making him blink blearily, fuzzily looking up in annoyance at the culprit, ready to give them the beating of their life.

                A girl grinned back down at him, her prim and neat uniform a stark contrast to the dirt and grime on the rest of the students, and the blood and cracks coating the walls of their classroom. Jake blinked at her as he straightened his back, opening his mouth to yawn. He had no idea there was a girl in this school.

                "I transferred here a week ago," The girl chirped, as if sensing Jake's thoughts. "My name's [Name] [Last name], nice to meet you!"

                "What do you want?" Jake asked brusquely, ignoring her introduction as he dug in his pocket for a snack, groaning inwardly when he realized that he had eaten them all already. "Go away, kid. This school isn't a place for a girl like you."

                She frowned as she watched him, putting one hand on her hip as she pouted slightly. "I'm not a kid, I'm just a year younger than you!" She replied defiantly. "Besides, this was the only school my aunt could afford."

                Jake raised his eyebrow at this. This girl... was intriguing, at the least. More so annoying, but Jake decided to pardon her overly-zealous attitude. "What do you want?" He repeated in annoyance, nevertheless. "If you don't want anything, go away. I'm trying to sleep here."

                "Protect me."

                Jake paused, just as he was about to close his eyes again, and raised his head, narrowing his eyes at the girl, who was still smiling in a carefree manner. "Excuse me?" He asked, unsure whether to be offended or weirded out by this demand.

                The girl shrugged. "I'm a girl," She explained. "Well, the only girl in this school at least. My auntie couldn't afford anything else, so I had to lie to her and tell her I have a nice friend here that could protect me. Which, obviously isn't true." The girl paused here, looking straight into Jake Kim's eyes without a hint of fear or hesitance. "I can do stuff for you. Your homework, quizzes, tests, whatever. Just please protect me while I'm in this school, until my auntie can get me to transfer, then I'll be out of your hair."

                Jake nearly laughed at this. This girl had the audacity to ask him to help her beat up any guy that essentially looked at her wrong, because she wasn't able to do so herself? She should've just chosen to be home-schooled, or just worked her ass off to make money at a young age instead. "No," He replied bluntly, settling himself back down onto his table, ready to doze off until the end of the day. "Bold of you to assume I want to do well in my studies, anyways. Now go away, kid. I want to sleep."

                You frowned in disappointment. Sure, you weren't a hundred percent certain that the school's most notorious fighter would actually help you, but your optimistic side was really hoping that he'd agree to your crazy demands. "Ok," You relented, rummaging through the plastic bag you'd brought along with you, before bringing out a little Kuromi lunchbox and gently placing it beside the boy's head. "I brought some food, by the way. If you don't wanna eat it it's fine." You wait for a few seconds, but it had become apparent that either Jake was ignoring you, or he was already asleep. "Well, bye Jake." You left, making sure to gently close the door behind you.

                You should have tried harder to convince Jake. You really should have. Because right now, you were in a super uncomfortable situation you wish you could have avoided one way or another. Found blackmail on Jake Kim to make him protect you? Nah, he'd kill you in an instant. Whine and whine and beg for his protection? Still kill you anyways. Fuck, nothing you could have done would make Jake relent.

                Your eye twitched slightly as you heard the boy sat next to you call you 'sweet cheeks' for probably the hundredth time in the past few hours, then proceed to claim that you were his 'girlfriend'. Yeah, right! He was so ugly even mirrors would shatter if they saw him. Another vulgar comment about your ass made you feel like breaking your pencil. Screw being polite to potentially dangerous boys, you were ready to break this guy's arm. You cringed when the guy stupidly decided to make a move and loop an arm around your shoulder, making kissy faces as he slowly drew closer to you. You shivered in horror - this pervert was about to try and kiss you!

                "Hell no." You groaned, gingerly pushing his face away from yours as you stood up, ready to get out of this hellhole. No way this guy actually thought he had a chance with you. Not with his personality.

                "The fuck did you just say, bitch?" The same guy growled, slowly standing up to tower above you, the rest of the class following in suit. It was clear that he was the king in this class, and even the teacher at the front was shivering in his seat, too afraid to say anything.

                "I said, hell no." You repeated, throwing all caution to the wind. "I'm not your girlfriend, so please stop acting like I gave you permission to touch me all you want."

                The guy's goons began to menacingly crack their knuckles and bring out bats from god-knows-where, you were starting to regret making a scene.

                "Disrespectful bitch." The leader spat out, slowly advancing on you. "And disrespectful bitches get taught a lesson." This must have been a sort of cue, because the goons began to jump over desks and chairs to run at you, fully prepared to beat the shit out of you.

                "Oh fuck," You mumbled, before darting out of the class - thank god your seat was the closest to the door - speeding through the hallways while the boys behind you screamed bloody murder.

                You really should have exercised more, because in a matter of minutes, you were already starting to feel stitches coming in, and wheezing pathetically as you began to slow down, giving one of the more athletic goons the chance to grab your hair, making you shout in pain as your scalp burned, bringing tears to your eyes as you struggled in his grasp, kicking and flailing like a wild animal.

                "Yo, boss! I got her!" The goon shouted excitedly, grunting slightly as he kept you under his iron grip. "Stay still you bitch-!"

                A loud bam made you flinch, instinctively reaching up to cover your ears. Did someone blow up a part of the school? You blink, realising the goon wasn't restraining you, before slowly looking to the wall beside you, seeing a human's head smushed into the cement, acutely aware of a person standing behind you. Slowly you look up, your face breaking out into a happy smile upon seeing Jake Kim, one hand holding the goon's head into the wall, the other holding up your Kuromi lunchbox to you.

                "The food was okay," Jake said blankly, though the twitch at the corner of lips said otherwise. Letting you gladly receive the empty lunchbox from his grasp, he slowly surveyed the frozen goons, their leader at the front, before looking at the heads peeking out from the classrooms, his eyes darting towards your slightly trembling form. His eyes softened, peeling his jacket off his form to drape over you, giving your head a small pat before walking in front of you.

                "I have a deal for you," You perk up upon hearing his voice, his form still relaxed as the goons in front of him shifted into battle stances, fully believing they could take him down. "You make me those lunches everyday, and I'll protect you." Without even waiting for a response (you would have said yes anyways), he immediately lunged forward, meeting the boys in front of him with a flurry of fists and legs.

                The fight ended just as quickly as it had started. Jake Kim was standing tall among the unconscious bodies, his uniform bloodied but still intact. You gingerly stepped over the bodies, meeting the boy in the middle as you eyed his dirty form judgmentally, snuggling deeper into the warm jacket. "Ew," You hum. "I should wash your clothes too."

                "Whatever," He replies blankly, slouching down again, his tall and prideful aura when fighting nowhere to be seen now. "Let's go. I wanna sleep." You brighten again, humming a cheerful tune as you trot after him, a skip in your step.

                "Hey, what do you wanna eat tomorrow? Bibimbap? Bulgogi?" A grunt was your only response.

                A year has passed since you met Jake Kim. Since Jake was being held back a year (you scolded him for this, though you were pretty sure he wasn't even listening), you were now in the same class as him, which relieved you, since you no longer had to walk past judgemental eyes from every class to deliver his daily lunchbox.

                Humming a happy little tune, you halted outside your class, classroom 2-1, skidding to a halt as you nearly bumped into two tall freshmen exiting the classroom at the same time.

                "Sorry," The shorter one says absentmindedly as they brush past you, the taller one's dreadlocks nearly smacking you in the face. Scrunching your nose, you poke out your tongue at them, before entering the classroom.

                Jake was awake when you entered, staring silently at two packs of orange gum resting neatly on his table.

                "Who's that from?" You asked curiously, watching as he slowly unwrapped one, popping the gum into his mouth, and began chewing obnoxiously. "Ooh, Jake's got admirers?"

                "Just some freshmen that wanted to be head," Jake replied nonchalantly, offering one to you, which you took and popped into your mouth. "And is it that surprising I'm awesome enough to have admirers?"

                "Stop being so egoistical," You grumbled, noticing the faraway look in your friend's eyes. "What, thinking about how old you are now for freshmen to be having the guts to challenge you?" Jake's gracious reply is a side-eye in your direction.

                "Be right back," He suddenly hums, standing up from his seat to his full height, effectively towering over you. "Don't move, alright?" He ruffles your hair like some puppy, momentarily making you freeze up, before leaving the classroom. You sigh, shutting your eyes tightly as you plopped into your seat, which was right beside his, banging your head onto the table and covering it with your arms to hide the growing red on your cheeks. Stupid Jake Kim, you think to yourself in annoyance. Making me have a crush on him... Stupid...

                Another few months rolled by in a flash. There were two new members of the Jake's Followers Squad, namely Jason Yoon and Brad Lee, who were more than happy to beat anyone up that simply looked at you or Jake wrong, eagerly accepting any and all lunchboxes you gave to them. You swear, you could give them a lunchbox with rat poison inside and they'd gobble it up in a matter of seconds.

                Morning assembly in the courtyard was always boring. The principal would always ramble about how the students should be grateful for all the teachers and the equipment in the school, while the students down below slowly fell asleep one by one.

                "Everyone listen up!" A teacher shouted, clearly trying to suck up to the principal. "The principal has an announcement to make!"

                You groan as an old man in an expensive suit - clearly out of his salary - walked up to the podium and began his daily speech. "I wanna sleep..." You whine under your breath, as Brad and Jason nod in agreement behind you.

                "Prestige, my ass." Jason yawns.

                "What bullshit." Brad follows in suit.

                In front of them, Jake stays quiet, shutting his eyes as he effortlessly falls asleep standing upright, making you groan as you fan yourself. Fuck this weather, honestly.

                A loud creak by the entrance made the four of you turn towards it, curious to see what the commotion is about.

                "What's going on?" The principal shouts in panic through the microphone. "What are you guys doing by the gate?!" His question goes unanswered as the students slowly pull the gate open. "Hey, shut the gate at once!"

                Jake's eyes narrow at the sleek black limousine that rumbles through the now-open gate, and the students that bow ninety-degrees towards the vehicle. You blink; that was some surprisingly high level of standard and discipline the once-rowdy boys of this school had.

                "Welcome sir!" The students shout. "It's an honour!"

                The limousine's engine vroomed loudly, before it suddenly sped towards the crowd of students, who shouted in panic and quickly backed out of the car's way, only for it to skid to a halt - right in front of Jake Kim. The boy simply raises an eyebrow at the vehicle, his tall shoulders blocking your view of whoever stepped out of the car.

                "Damn..." The man hummed as he stepped out of his car, circle-shaped sunglasses perched neatly on his nose as he leaned on his car, hands placed in his pockets. "It sure is hard to drive in the school zone." His eyes wander to Jake - not that anyone could tell with his tinted sunglasses.

                "Good to see you," The man, Sinu Han, greets amicably. "Head of Gangseo Middle School; Jake Kim." His lips suddenly stretch into a wide grin. "Join Big Deal."

                "No," Was Jake's immediate response. "I'm not going to join Big Deal."

                "Whoa... so assertive!" Sinu continues smiling, unaffected by Jake's harsh rejection. "Why not?"

                "I don't do thugs." He answers sharply.

                "I'm not a thug."

                "Bullshit." Jake was quick to reply. "Everything about you screams 'thug'."

                "Damn, you got me." Sinu shrugs uncaringly, which slightly infuriated the boy.

                "Stop messing with me and go." He takes a gum out of his pocket, popping it into his mouth as he chewed, blowing a small bubble. "I'm sick of dealing with you thugs." And as he brushes past the man, Sinu observes quietly as you, Brad and Jason follow quietly after him, the son of Gapryoung Kim slowing down a little to subtly look back at you, raising an eyebrow almost inquisitively, silently asking if you were okay.

                Sinu Han watches in amusement as you nod your head brightly, and only then does Jake turn back and disappear into the school. "Ah, young love." He muses quietly as he turns around and heads back to his car. "Kinda reminds me of the romance of Big Deal."

                To be honest, you weren't all that surprised when Jake joined Big Deal. Sure, it was a little dangerous to hang out on a street full of gangsters with the possibility of getting attacked any second, but you understood that your three friends could protect themselves.

                Somehow, you found yourself wrapped up in the gang's shenanigans too. You were sort of an unofficial official member now, finding yourself managing Big Deal's finances and spending, even going as far as to help the gang put aside some money to invest in stocks. Due to your connection with Jake and Sinu, you were placed pretty high up in the ranks, as the sixth-in-command. It wasn't really high, like Jake, who was second-in-command, but everyone in Big Deal still genuinely respected you for your kindness - and home-cooked food, of course.

                "WELCOME, SIR!" Everyone bowed immediately, in one swift motion, their bodies bent a perfect ninety degrees as Big Deal's Number 3; Samuel Seo smoothly brushed past in his neatly ironed Big Deal coat, a cigarette between his lips. One of members of Big Deal caught his eye, making him pause directly in front of him.

                "Where's your coat?" He asked.

                "I was in a rush and forgot to wear it, sir!" The member replied loudly, scratching his head nervously, knowing he was fucked.

                "Is that so?" Samuel asked softly. A loud smack rang through the street as the member's face was snapped to the side, having been slapped by Samuel. "Does that mean you're not a member of Big Deal anymore?" The other members winced as they watched Samuel scold the boy that forgot his coat, said boy nodding nervously as he held his swollen cheek.

                "Samuel, don't be so harsh." You frowned a little, chastising the third-in-command as you stepped between the boy and Samuel, your Big Deal coat swooshing behind you as the boy looked at you like an angel that had just descended from heaven. "It was just one time. He won't forget again, right?" You smile kindly at the boy, who nodded fervently with a grateful smile on his face. 

                "Yes Ma'am!" He practically shouts, bowing profusely as you nod and wave him away, before speeding off, probably to go tell his friends about his encounter with you.

                "You're too soft," Samuel grumbles lowly as the two of you watch a bunch of Big Deal members crowd around him, exclaiming about how lucky he was to interact with the so-called 'Angelic Number 6' of Big Deal. "Gangs like Big Deal are all about discipline and respect. If you let him off so easily, he's going to take advantage of it."

                "You're just too harsh," You repeat your words from before, rolling your eyes. "You need to chill, Samuel. It's the first time he forgot his coat, right? You didn't need to slap him so hard, I could already see the bruise forming."

                "It's the third." Samuel mumbles petulantly, but even he knows better than to argue with you. For all he knew, the next meal you gave him could include a few worms for noodles. 

                He watches you leave, smiling and waving at every Big Deal member you come across, all of which smile stupidly and wave enthusiastically, or jaw drops and bows lower than they should, the same fervent look in all of their eyes.

                Stupid girl, Samuel thinks to himself as he watches you, walking freely with the Big Deal coat hanging off your shoulders, practically unaware of the weight of your role. Walking so freely, without a single care in the world. He wishes he could be like you.

                Big Deal was in its golden era for months. Ever since you, Jake and Samuel joined, profits have been soaring higher than anyone has ever seen, and no gang has decided to mess with Big Deal - except for the stupid ones.

                Nevertheless, life was looking great. You had an amazing group of friends that you laughed with and ate with, your aunt was starting to earn more money, so you could afford better ingredients for the food you cooked for Big Deal.

                You and Samuel, surprisingly, got along like a house on fire, something Jake wasn't too happy with, but never spoke up about. Just like you, Samuel loved money almost as much as he loved fighting, and the two of you would have in depth discussions about the best way to earn a lot of money for Big Deal while budgeting for about a hundred or so members. Despite your earlier grudges about him kicking a cute little boy named Johan out, he was quite friendly, underneath his tough exterior.

                Jake, on the other hand, got along like a house on fire with Sinu, which wasn't very surprising. Sinu had a very blatant favouritism towards the boy, and wasn't shy in showing it either. You didn't appreciate the leader of Big Deal proudly favouring Jake, but you never spoke up about it either.

                Admittedly, you still had that stupid little crush on Jake. Surprise, surprise, after months of being with Jake in gang, and seeing all of his sides - from the positive ones to the negative ones, you still found him handsome, deep down to the core.

                Samuel didn't appreciate you fawning over Jake in front of him - and yes, he knew because you told him. He'd roll his eyes, sigh and scoff whenever you brought the name up, knowing he was up for another session of 'Oh-my-gosh-did-you-see-how-Jake-took-those-guys-down' or 'Jake-looks-even-better-today'. But he never complained, which was something you appreciated. It was easy talking to the stoic and monotonous Samuel (arguably), since talking to anyone else essentially meant they would snitch to Jake, even Yeonhui and Sinu. Samuel didn't care enough to tell Jake, but at least he cared enough to listen while you talked his ears off.

                However, over the past few days, you noticed that Samuel became more prickly whenever you brought up Jake. He'd scoff - genuinely scoff, not the kind where he'd scoff but still listen, and make up some excuse to avoid you talking about Jake. Occasionally, when he'd lie that he had a phone call or he needed to check on the shops, you'd nod quietly, but stare questioningly as he walked away. You wondered what had happened between the two.

                One day, your aunt called. You were strolling around Big Deal street with Samuel, the two of you noting which parts of the street needed to be cleaned or repaired, when your phone rang in your coat pocket. Pausing, you dug your phone out, clicking on the 'answer' button when you saw the caller address.

                "Hi auntie, what's up?" You hum cheerfully, as Samuel pauses to patiently wait for you as well, lighting up a cigarette in the mean time.

                "[Name]!" Your aunt speaks cheerfully, her happy tone making you tilt your head. She'd never sounded so happy in the years you had lived with her. "I've gotten a huge promotion. It can earn me a lot of money for both of us!" Your face breaks out into a happy grin when you hear the news.

                "Auntie, that's great!" You beam, though she couldn't see it. "Should we eat KFC tonight?" Your aunt laughs, but it trails off a bit at the end. "What's wrong, auntie?"

                "My new job is in another part of Seoul, so we're going to have to move away."

                Your face went slack, eyes only widening slightly in shock. Samuel looked up questioningly upon your silence, inwardly noting the look of shock on your face.

                "[Name]?" Your aunt asks quietly, upon hearing nothing from you. "Are you okay with it? I know how close you are to your friends here... If not it's fine, I can reject the offer-"

                "No!" You say quickly, clearing your throat, before quickly regaining your composure. "It's fine, aunty. I can't wait. When do we leave?"

                "This coming Friday." Your aunt replies, her tone careful to gauge your reaction. "Are you sure you're okay with it?"

                "I'm fine," You say, trying your best to sound cheerful. Today was Tuesday. You only had two days, not counting today, to say your farewells. "Congratulations on that promotion, auntie! You deserve it."

                "Thank you, dear." You could practically hear her fond smile from the other line. "I'll hang up now, but I'll tell you the details at home. Love you, bye!"

                "Bye, auntie." You say, but the line had already gone dead. You suck in a deep breath, staring at the 'call ended' on your screen. It was dead silent for a while as Samuel observed your face.

                "So," He finally says, breaking the silence. "When are you telling Big Deal?"

                "Soon," You say resolutely, sighing as you ruffle your hair, suddenly feeling exhausted. "Keep it a secret from them until then, please?"

                Samuel raises his eyebrow at your plea, scoffing as he puffs out smoke. "Why should I?" He asks, smirking infuriatingly. You sigh at his reaction - clearly you expected too much of him.

                "I just don't want them to be sad." You finally say, a look of fondness in your eyes as you take in the street before you, a street you were proud to take part in building up to its glory. Your dearest pride and joy, Big Deal. "Jake's got a lot on his plate too, y'know? Sinu oppa's thinking of stepping down, and I heard there were talks of a guy messing up the other gangs around this area. They've got enough to worry about, they can't worry about me. They can't." You repeat the last sentence, eyes glazing over as Samuel watches you from the corner of his eye.

                "It's always Jake." Samuel mutters, barely catching himself in time to glimpse you curiously looking over him.

                "What?" You ask, making him quickly clear his throat and look away.

                "I'll keep your little secret." He grumbles, watching your expression light up as you give him a happy smile.

                "Really? Thank you, Samuel!" You rush forward, giving him a hug before gasping, checking your phone. "Oh, my auntie will be back soon! I gotta buy KFC, see you Samuel!" Without waiting for his reply, you dash away, breathlessly shouting a greeting to every Big Deal member you crossed.

                Samuel Seo watches you go with a sinking heart, his expression relaxing as he sighs and scratches the back of his head, trying hard to ignore the warmth in his chest. After all this time, it's always been Jake.

                You didn't show up the next day. Samuel pretends like your absence isn't a big deal, and carries on with his daily routine of supervising the members and scolding those who didn't wear their jackets. Who cares, anyways. You were probably just busy packing with your auntie to go somewhere else. It's not like he couldn't find out where you were going and visit you. He shakes the thought away, schooling his expression to one of blankness as he marks down another renovation needed to be made, strolling down the street.

                Inwardly, he felt somewhat triumphant that he knew something about you that Jake didn't. Watching him go around like a lost child, asking if anyone had seen you today was quite amusing, especially more so because he, Samuel Seo, knew before Jake did.

                He wouldn't miss you, Samuel reminded himself. Just another Big Deal member needing to move away. No big deal.

                On Thursday, Goo Kim came. Samuel watched on as Sinu was defeated, by a teen barely older than him, with bleached blonde hair and a joker attitude. He and Jake watched over Sinu as he rested, one man's mind in a turmoil and the other a calm sea.

                "Samuel," He clenched his teeth, hating how he automatically looked up at the boy.

                "What?" Samuel shoots back with gritted teeth, looking back down towards Sinu.

                "Where's [Name]?" Jake asks quietly, staring down at the floor with a blank expression, dark eyes a brewing storm.

                Samuel looks at him for a moment, his mind in a turmoil. He wanted to rile Jake up, just a little bit. And yet... his mind flashes to your face, knowing you'd be so upset if he caused a rift between you and your best friend. Best. Friend. Samuel clenches his jaw, and makes his mind up. "Took the day off." He's careful to keep his tone neutral and casual, as if he was oblivious to how Jake was slowly getting angrier and angrier. "Said she had more important stuff to take care of."

                The second-in-command nods silently, before getting up and saying he's going outside to get some fresh air. Samuel nods, and when the door closes, he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding in, and stares down at Sinu. He thinks he feels guilty, but maybe not after all.

                Outside, Jake Kim is having a mental breakdown. More important things my ass, He thinks furiously, closing his eyes to take a deep breath to calm himself down. What's more important than Big Deal that she couldn't tell me herself?

                He sighs, smoothing back his hair. Tomorrow, He tells himself. Tomorrow, I'll deal with her.

                Tomorrow never came.

                Friday rolled past in a blur for you. Your auntie was so busy with paperwork and events, you had to help pack everything in your tiny little apartment, which had shockingly a lot of things. This took two days to pack by yourself, and on Friday, you found yourself whirled away by your aunt early in the morning to go to the train station, with no chance of saying your goodbyes. Inwardly, you scolded yourself for procrastinating your farewells, but brushed it aside as you admired the greenery that rolled past your window. You could easily text them, no problem.

                When you arrived at your new apartment, it was already late at night. Overwhelmed by exhaustion, you crashed onto your new bed, not even bothering to unpack or shower, and slept soundly till Saturday noontime.

                Once you woke up, you were determined to say your proper goodbyes. Grabbing your phone off the nightstand, you switched it on, clicking on Jake's chatbox before typing out your message.

[name] 🧚

hey, so sorry i didn't show up the past few days! was

super busy with stuff, i'll lyk thru call, just text me

when u have time, k? x

Seen

                Jake's reply came almost instantaneously, and your brows furrowed the more you read.

jakey (gyat) 🍑

I can't believe you. What 'stuff' were you even busy with?

Why weren't you here when we needed you? I'm starting to

think you don't even care about Big Deal. And you can't even

tell me face to face? I really can't believe you, [Name]. Don't

text or call me until you can tell me straight to my face what

exactly was so important you couldn't be here with us.

Seen

This person has blocked your contact.

You can no longer text or call this person

                Your brows furrowed, feeling hurt as you reread Jake's message once, twice and three times. What had happened the two days you weren't there? Clicking out of Jake's chatbox, you were determined to clear up whatever misunderstanding happened between you and your friend.

                Scrolling through your contact list, you clicked on the groupchat you had made with Brad, Jason and Jerry, originally meant for when you wanted to plan Jake's birthday party last year, but ended up as a groupchat where you and the rest of Jake's loyal fanclub would discuss anything (positive, of course) related to their boss (like the memes the four of you had created regarding Jake, though you all swore never to tell anyone about them).

Boss Jake's Fanclub 🍑

president [name]

guys what happened while i was gone and why

is jake mad at me rn?

Seen by all

hello?

Seen by all

guys please tell me i really don't know what

happened

Seen by all

jason 👠

i'm kinda going against boss jake's orders

but

on thursday sinu got defeated by some guy called

goo kim and jake's mad that you didn't show up.

he told everyone in big deal to block your

number and not talk to you at all until you talk to

him face to face.

                Your eyes widened as you slowly sat up in your bed, heading spinning as you slowly read through Jason's message. Sinu? Defeated? And Jake was angry that you were absent?

president [name]

i had a good reason, i swear.

im sorry i never told you guys sooner but my auntie

got a job promotion so i had to help her pack and

i left yesterday morning.

i really wanted to tell you guys about it but everyone

looked so stressed and tired i just didn't want to make

it worse.

im sorry everyone, i'll get ready to leave tomorrow to

explain everything to jake.

Seen by all

baby kwon 💗

I think it is better if you don't, [Name].

Boss Jake is very stressed right now, and I don't

think he wants to talk to anybody right now. Goo

Kim and his accomplice, Gun Park, said that we

have to pay them 100 million won every month if

we want Big Deal to survive, so everyone's very

tense right now.

I don't mean to be rude, but if you come back, Boss

Jake will be even more stressed.

brad (nail artist <3)

sorry [name].

we all miss you though.

we'll have to delete this chat bc if boss jake sees

this he'd kill us all.

Seen by all

president [name]

it's okay.

thanks guys.

Seen by all

baby kwon 💗 has removed you from the chat

baby kwon 💗 has left the chat

jason 👠 has left the chat

brad (nail artist <3) has left the chat

                You switched off your phone, staring at the black screen blankly.

                That day, your auntie had to console you nonstop as you cried your heart out, all the way until you fell asleep from exhaustion, tears still dripping down your eyes as your head hit the pillow.

                A few months later, a sleek-looking Samuel Seo paid you a visit. Your aunt was out working and you were watching television while eating fried chicken when your doorbell rang.

                Upon opening your front door, you were greeted with an unbelievably taller Samuel in a neatly ironed white suit, with a bunch of men standing behind him.

                "Samuel!" Your face lit up as you smiled warmly at your sudden guest. "Oh wow, you've grown taller!"

                "Hi, [Name]." He nods at you, the corner of his lips curling into a half smirk. "Can I come in?"

                "Of course, of course!" You unlocked your door, ushering him inside as you threw a curious look towards the men still stationed outside your house. They looked strange, in well-ironed suits that didn't scream 'We believe in the romance of Big Deal'. "Do they want to come in, or...?"

                "They'll stay where they are." Samuel replies dismissively, barely giving the men a glance as he looked around your house. "Nice place you got here."

                "Sorry for the mess," You say apologetically as you hurriedly switch off the television and clear away your chicken. "I wasn't expecting anyone to visit. I'll get you some tea. Make yourself at home!"

                Samuel sat down on your couch, watching as you bustled around in the kitchen, inwardly knowing you wouldn't treat him so kindly if you knew what news he came bearing.

                "So," You plop down opposite him, pouring him a cup of tea before pouring one for yourself. "What's up? How's Big Deal?"

                "Ah..." Samuel slowly took a sip from his cup of tea, the warm liquid running down his throat. "I left Big Deal."

                You paused, looking up at him in shock as he set down his cup with a sharp 'clink'. "What?" You say disbelievingly, glancing down at the shiny badge on his collar, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "But... you love Big Deal."

                "Loved," he corrected, unfazed by your piercing stare. "After Sinu was defeated, I realized that frankly, Big Deal was still a mile away from what I wanted to achieve." He gave you a professional smile, smoothening his hair. "Absolute power."

                "So what," You scoff, head still spinning. "Big Deal was just another stepping stone to you?"

                "Precisely," He didn't even bother sugarcoating it. "And now, I'm inviting you to do the same. I know that you still think of yourself as a member of Big Deal, though Jake may not feel the same."

                Underneath the table, your fists clench.

                The tea in your cup has quickly gone cold.

                "Join Workers. We will give you all the power and money you could ever want. We won't turn our back on you just because you need to take a few days leave without prior notice. Don't you want your aunt to stop suffering? Don't you want to live a lavish lifestyle, to have anything you want at a snap of your finger?" He leaned closer to you, and you could practically smell dirty money oozing from him. "Join Workers, [Name]. You won't regret it."

                You were silent for a while, before lifting your head as you stared at Samuel, a fire burning in your eyes.

                "So you're saying all I need to do is turn my back on Big Deal and join you?"

                Samuel hums in affirmation, his eyes gleaming in victory. He celebrated too early.

                Lifting your arm, you stand up, grabbing your cup of tea and mercilessly splashing the liquid all over Samuel, glaring at him as he calmly wiped the liquid away from his face with a handkerchief.

                "Like hell I will," You grit out, eyes blazing as you set down the cup with a loud bang, before pointing towards your door, hand trembling slightly. "Get the fuck out of my house, Samuel. I'm not a fucking traitor, unlike you piece of shit."

                You were half expecting him to get angry and punch you, but instead he chuckled almost good-naturedly and got up to leave.

                "Alright," He says easily, brushing past you. "That's fine, [Name]. It's not like you have a gang to go back to even if you refuse my offer."

                You were left there standing alone as the door shuts with a loud bang, fists trembling as you stared at the table.

                A year had passed since you had unofficially been kicked out of Big Deal. You had learned to push down the nostalgia and tears that the gang had brought every time you thought about them, and buried yourself in studies. Your new school, J High, was admittedly elite and quite expensive, but thanks to the scholarship you had scored from a company called H Group, the school fees were much cheaper.

                Originally, you felt extremely insecure about your background and looks, since almost everybody in J High was either good looking or rich, or in some cases, both, but you quickly adapted to your new environment, comfortably securing yourself a spot as an almost invisible girl, not too invisible for people to forget your name, but not too unique to be popular.

                During your third year, your department had some interesting freshmen. The Architecture Department was known for being an all-boys department for years (until you arrived), since 1) they were mostly gang members and 2) the girls were too scared to join. But the new first years were... unique, to say the least.

                Originally, you had thought they were just another bunch of rowdy teenage boys picking fights and smoking at the back of the school, but you were pleasantly surprised to hear chatter of how they were more mellow (which spoke a lot) and a boy in the first year had formed some sort of gang that apparently 'punished bad guys', called Burn Knuckles.

                Your curiosity piquing, you decided to volunteer to be the Architecture Department's student guide for the first years.

                The leader of Burn Knuckles, Euntae Lee, was a very amusing boy. When the teacher first introduced you to the class, you had accidentally made eye contact with him. Having read through and memorised the class roster, you gave him a warm smile, making his face go stiff as red blossomed on his cheeks. You nearly laughed, but kept it together as you introduced yourself to the first years.

                You only grew closer to Burn Knuckles when you discovered that the right hand man, Jace Park, worked at the same coffee shop as you did, thus his other gang members were also frequent visitors of the cafe, once saving you from a old man that was harassing you.

                "You don't touch a girl without her permission," You clearly remember Euntae Lee saying, as he glared at the man, who had tried to lean over the counter to touch your arm, and kept an iron grip on his wrist. "You're a bad guy. And bad guys must be punished."

                You had thanked him profusely afterwards, making him blush and avert his eyes, mumbling for you to call him 'Vasco'. As a way to express your gratitude, you talked to the manager, and succeeded in getting chocolate milk added to the cafe's list of drinks, making Vasco's eyes sparkle when he walked in the next day, seeing the new addition to the menu. How cute.

                You got along well with Burn Knuckles. Perhaps it was from your past experience with Big Deal, but you knew perfectly how to get the rowdy bunch to quieten down and listen. Of course, they loved you for your kind and unbiased nature - but they also loved your food. You grew close enough for them to comfortably call you noona.

                You felt relieved when Vasco gained new friends. Of course, they were an enigmatic bunch, almost as comedic as Vasco was, but you were grateful nonetheless. At least he had friends outside Burn Knuckles - not like it was a bad thing.

                Rumors were starting to circle. An illegal betting ring was starting to gain popularity, especially among students. You knew because one of your coworkers, John, had tried to borrow some money from you, though you wisely declined when he explained it was for betting.

                One of Vasco's friends, unfortunately, got caught up in the betting ring. You felt pity, as you stared down at the scrawny boy in front of you, looking like he was one sentence away from weeping his heart out at his money lost.

                Daniel Park, one of Vasco's friends, had called upon you late at night, requesting for your presence at a nearby convenience store. Apparently, they had been trying to help the boy get back his money, though literally nobody there was good enough at consoling him. Biting back a sigh, you tell Daniel you'd be there in five minutes.

                You smile kindly down at the boy, Jiho, who looks at you like a deity descended from heaven as his tears dry up almost instantaneously. "Don't be sad, we'll help you get your money back." You say. "Did you meet the people who ran the site, though? It'll help a lot."

                Jiho nods his head vigorously, smiling gratefully up at you through his thick lenses. "I did!" He exclaims in affirmation. "I know their names, too. This guy named John introduced me to the leader." You suppressed a sigh. Of course John was the one that made Jiho this messed up.

                "I don't know the leader's name, but he presented me to another guy, Jake Kim." Your heart stilled. Staring at Jiho, your head swam as your breathing became uneven, the loud thumping of your heart in your ears drowning out whatever Jiho was saying. Jake Kim? There was no way he would involve himself in illegal betting rings.

                "Jiho?" The boy paused in his rambles to look up at you, a small chill running up his spine as he sees the scary expression on your face, a blank yet terrifying aura around you, extremely unlike the usual kind and warm one you present people with. "What did Jake Kim look like?"

                "A-ah..." He paused, recalling the brief interactions he had with the teen. "He was very tall... and he had a lot of hair gel."

                Without the given circumstances, you would have laughed out loud. Of course the best way to identify Jake Kim was by his overly-gelled hair.

                But Jiho watched in surprise as you trembled slightly, a wild torrent of emotions clouding your eyes as you clutch his shoulder tighter. "Noona... are you okay?"

                At this point, you were acutely aware of the number of eyes watching your reaction in concern, ready to step in and console you at any moment.

                "Ah..." You lift your head, any trace of your previous panic attack gone in the blink of an eye as you smile widely at everyone. "Sorry, guys. I used to know a Jake Kim, but it must be a different guy." You laugh falsely, the sound grating your eardrums. "I need to get going now, my aunt's probably worried not knowing where I am." You bid them a quick goodbye, speedwalking away from the convenience store.

                Daniel Park watches you leave with furrowed eyebrows, staring at  your hunched form in worry. 'Strange,' He thinks to himself. 'For a moment there... she looked hurt.'

                Jace watches in sheer horror and shock as Jake Kim mercilessly pummelled Vasco to the ground, the former boy's fists soaked in blood. "Whew..." Jake hums, wiping his chin with one bloodied knuckle, sounding like he barely even broke a sweat. "You're persistent. It's impressive you managed to hang in like that." Jace clenches his fist.

                "Hey, friend." Jake Kim averts his gaze to Jace, who was still standing there in shock, disbelieving. "Take him and leave."

                With a start, Jace shifted his stance, clenching his fist as he prepared himself to attack, though his legs trembled in fear.

                "Hm? You want to fight now?" Jake nearly laughed, teasing the big-eared boy in front of him. "Did you hold yourself back not to embarrass your boss?" Jace merely stays silent, though a word from Vasco made him pause.

                "It's okay, Jace." The boy strains out, slowly getting up from the ground, his arms trembling from the effort. "I... will win."

                "Y-you can't!" Jace sputters out, helping his friend up from the floor, allowing Vasco to painfully lean some of his weight on him. "Vasco..."

                "I promised [Name] I would defeat bad guys." Vasco reassured, keeping his gaze levelled on Jake. "I won't disappoint her."

                "[Name]?" Jake softly repeats, his fighting stance relaxing as he stared at the two boys in front of him with a faraway look in his eyes. Shit, he should've realized how familiar that determination in Tabasco's eyes were. "You guys know [Name] [Last Name]?"

                Vasco exchanges a look with Jace, before simultaneously glaring protectively at Jake. "What's it to you?" Jace was the first to reply with a guarded look.

                "She's someone I knew a while back." He shakes himself out of his stupor, a small, bitter smile on his face. "I should've just listened to her instead of being so stubborn."

                "Here's the 100 million won for the month." Yeonhui places the last box of cash right beside Jake, her tone brusque. "Counted all of it with the girls."

                "Wait, hold on." Jake checks his clipboard again, eyebrows furrowed. "We were definitely a few million won short just yesterday. Did I count wrongly?" He looks up at Yeonhui, who suddenly had a shifty look in her eyes, glancing towards the door. Dread piled in Jake's gut as he thought of the worse. "Yeonhui, what did you do?"

                The woman's eyes widen. "We didn't sell our bodies or anything, you dimwit!" She whacks the man over the head, ignoring the bump that was beginning to form. As Jake nurses his skull with a small pout, she hesitates a little, looking at the empty peg with a Hello Kitty sticker pasted above it hanging on the wall. Jake recognized whose peg it was almost immediately - you used to hang your Big Deal coat on the same peg.

                "We just had a little extra help." Yeonhui finally says, her tone absolute, with no room for arguments. She pauses, as if fighting herself mentally, before taking out a small piece of paper and tossing it to Jake. "Read it. I'm going to tell everyone not to come in for the next half hour, you're going to need the privacy."

                And before Jake can reply, the woman had already sped out the door, shutting it firmly behind her. With nothing better to do, the man shrugs, unfolding the paper carefully. His heart drops as he reads the first line, and he has to lower the letter and stare blankly at the boxes of cash surrounding him, take a deep breath, and continue reading.

                'Dear Jake', the letter read. 'I hope this letter finds you in good health. I told Yeonhui to give this to you once things have settled down, or when you find out you've magically had a few more million won than before. I know you hate me because I wasn't there for Big Deal when you guys needed me the most, and I understand if you never want to see me again. I've moved to another part of Seoul because my aunt found a better paying job, and a part of me has moved on from whatever happened between us. For all it is worth, I'm sorry I wasn't by your side to support you through this tough time. Gun and Goo sound like a pair of cruel bitches. I'm sorry I wasn't able to protect Sinu, or keep Samuel from leaving Big Deal. He came to me, a few months after I'd left, with an offer to join his new sponsor, Workers. Of course I declined; even if I'm gone, I still love and cherish Big Deal with all my heart. My coat still hangs proudly in my room, and I wash it every month!

                'I'm not angry at you for acting as you did, Jake. I know that what I did, from your point of view, was wrong. I'm truly sorry. I know there's no way I can make up for what I did, but I'm trying, a little at a time, to help you. It must be tough for you, this new role and responsibilities that come with it. I'm sorry I'm not there to make it easier for you. Yeonhui's still sending me the tracklist for the 100 million won per month, and I'm still helping her calculate profits and suggest methods to increase them. Auntie's making more money than before, so sometimes I can slip in a few million won to help. I'm sorry if it's too little, I can send more if you want.

                'How is everyone at Big Deal? Does Jerry still have that little pink bike of his? Has Jason bought new shoes yet? Those red ones were looking really torn the last time I saw them. Tell Brad I love the nail art designs he sends me. If Yeonhui's still crying at night because she misses Sinu, give her a hug for me. I'm happy now. Even if you choose to forgive me, don't look for me, please? We'll all be okay if we just stick to now, forever. I'm sorry Jake. I hope you can forgive me.

                Yours truly,

                [Name] [Last Name]'

                Jake's eyes begin to water as he reads the last line. Then he finds himself rereading it from the first line again, until the tears in his eyes blur his vision and drip down onto his pants in little droplets. He stays like this for the next hour, reading and rereading, until he burns each and every word written from your soul deep into his aching heart.

                Vasco and Jace shared a curious look. They've never heard their senior speak of this strange, overly-gelled up man before, but a loud laugh from nearby made their heads whip towards the noise.

                "Well, this is interesting." The voice hums, as a man wearing tinted sunglasses appears, a cruel smirk on his face. The blood drains from Jake's face, and his fists clench tighter than ever. "You," he grits out, eyes blazing.

                "It's been a long time, Jake. How have you been?" Gun Park asks, in an almost amicable tone.

                Another year passed, and you were now an official J High graduate, working full-time at the cafe instead of part-time. The pay was much better, and the manager, a middle-aged woman, was kind enough to give you a bonus every two months, since you were one of her best and most loyal workers, which you deeply appreciated.

                The illegal betting ring situation was still plaguing the back of your mind, since you had heard rumors that Big Deal's leader was now in juvenile detention, but you currently had more issues to deal with than to dwell on it forever, like how the stupid espresso machine wasn't working again.

                As you wrestle with the insides of the demonic espresso machine, your mind flutters back to a few days ago, when Daniel Park had paid you a visit.

                "Jake Kim" Small Daniel says as soon as he sits down in front of you. You pause in your work, turning your head towards the shorter boy to give him a close-eyed smile. But even he could see through your mask.

                "I don't know what you're talking about, Daniel." You say, clenching tightly on the cup in your grasp, your words an underlying threat.

                The boy's adam's apple bobs nervously, but he still stares straight into your eyes fearlessly. You falter, previously wide smile dropping as you sigh, and Daniel catches a glimpse of pure exhaustion on your face.

                Setting down the cup, you motion for another worker to take over as you disappear in the back, probably to ask for a break, appearing once more as you take a seat opposite Daniel.

                "You got me," You say, shrugging carelessly, though inside, your heart was thumping loudly. "What do you want?"

                "You..." Daniel Park hesitates. "You know what happened to Sinu Han, right?"

                You hum in affirmation. A few weeks after your disgraceful step-down, Jason had secretly paid you a visit, telling you everything you had missed, including how Sinu had sold Big Deal.

                "Sinu Han's in an affiliation called Workers now, in the Second Affiliate. It's one of the Four Major Crews." Daniel Park explains, not missing a beat. "I want you to help us take down the Second Affiliate, by meeting Sinu Han."

                He doesn't expect you to laugh loudly, leaning back on your chair with faux relaxation. "I'm assuming I'm not the only one you came to with this offer." You hum, and Daniel Park tenses.

                "No," He admits truthfully. "I was planning on telling Jake Kim, too."

                He watches as you sigh, turning your head to look out the window, a faraway look in your eyes. He follows your gaze. A group of high schoolers were outside, laughing and shoving each other playfully. The picture of adolescent innocence.

                "You can make up with him," He presses stubbornly. "I don't know what happened between the two of you, but I know you guys can fix it-!"

                You smile, and Daniel is taken aback. It isn't your usual carefree and heartwarming grin, more like a pained and tired one. "If only it was that easy," You mumble, mostly to yourself. "Once upon a time, I would have wanted to. But now...?" You give him a helpless shrug. "He made it clear he hates me. Why should I be the one making the effort in saving a relationship he clearly doesn't want to preserve?"

                Daniel Park stares at you, with tears glistening in your eyes, and it finally dawns on him. "You liked him." He whispers, and you smile sadly back at him, not saying a word.

                "I'll send you the location," He stands up abruptly, eyes still ablaze with determination. "Exactly one week from now, my friends and I will be taking down the Second Affiliate."

                "Good luck, then." You hum, also standing up. "Goodbye, Daniel."

                Now is exactly a week from when he paid you a visit.

                Staring down at the address he gave you, you bite back a sigh as your head spins. Fuck.

                "I'm leaving early," You call out to your manager as you toss your apron on the front desk. "I'll make up for it some other time."

                "Alright, dear." She replies, smiling gently at your silhouette as you practically race out of the door. "Go chase that boy," She hums.

                Sinu Han was happy.

                Rather, he felt more regretful than happy. But seeing the gang he worked so hard to shape bowing in front of him, shouting their heartfelt greeting, even after not seeing or remembering him for three years, made his heart swell and his body feel so positively full. Big Deal was complete. But...

                "Where's [Name]?" Jake freezes as he catches Sinu's mumble, as Jerry, Brad and Jason exchange nervous glances. "Where's [Name]?" Sinu repeats, louder this time, as his voice carries for miles.

                His heart thumping wildly, Jake slowly looks up to see Sinu wide-eyed, afraid for the worst outcome. Shit, he thinks. If he finds out, he might lose his mind-!

                "I'm here, I'm here." A melodic female voice rings out, as everyone's head darts towards the entrance of the room, wide-eyed. "Jeez, no need to get all worked up."

                Jake's breath got caught in his throat.

                There you were, standing at the entrance, your Big Deal coat hanging loosely off your shoulders. Hands in your pocket, head tilted as you cooly regarded your former gang.

                Jake should have been happy to see you, alive and healthy. And yet...

                You silently walked through the neat formation, coming to a stop in front of Sinu, not even acknowledging Jake, who was beside him. The air was tense.

                "Welcome back, Sinu-oppa." You say blandly, forcing a tight smile on your face. "It's been a long time." Sinu smiles down at you, not sensing your awkwardness as he pats your head, making you freeze up.

                "Thanks, everyone." He says, a single tear dropping from his eyes. "How's everyone doing-?"

                "Sinu..." Another feminine voice mumbles in Japanese. "What are you doing?" Everyone turns towards the source of the voice, a small, trembling Japanese woman sitting on the couch. "You're joking, right?" She chokes out. "Stop fooling around. I'm not in the mood for this. You better cut it out." Mitsuki Sohma raises her head, a downright creepy look on her face as she shrieks at Sinu. "YOU NEED TO FIGHT FOR ME!!"

                A resounding slap echoes through the room as everybody sucks in a breath.

                "Cut that shit out," You glare down at Mitsuki, your hand stinging from the force of smacking her. "Stop running after a man that'll never love you. Whatever delusions you keep feeding yourself, that one day Sinu's going to marry you or something, you better force them out of your brain and flush them down the toilet before I do it for you."

                Everyone around you hold their breath as they stare at you, who was still scowling at the Japanese girl, holding her cheek as she trembled violently, tears running down her face.

                A chill suddenly runs through the room, and the hairs at the back of your neck rise. You slowly turn around, watching as the fearless gang you once knew part like the Red Sea, making way for a blonde Japanese man in a white coat whose face was so blank it made your heart nearly stop in fear.

                Kuroda Ryuhei. You've heard of him before. The leader of an infamous biker gang in Japan, rumored to have come all the way to Korea in pursuit of a woman 'like no other'. The rumors were true, then, you think, as you silently watch him pick up Mitsuki, bridal style, carrying her over to a sofa nearby, before turning around with an unsettling smile on his face.

                "Oi," Kuroda Ryuhei finally speaks in Japanese, the smile still on his face. "Who made her cry?" Nobody dared to speak, and you could feel the man's temper rise. He turns back to Mitsuki, and you glimpse his eyes becoming tender. "Hey, cutie." He hums softly. "Tell me, was it them?" He angles his head towards Jake and Sinu. "Tell me what you want me to do." And a chill runs down your spine as you hear the next sentence that comes out of this psycho's mouth. "If you want me to kill them, I will."

                "I did," The words fly out of your mouth faster than you had expected. At the corner of your eye, you see Jake's eyes widen; he clearly didn't expect you to defend them like this. "I made your girl cry." Your heart thunders in your ears as Kuroda Ryuhei slowly turns to look at you, and he looks almost amused to see another girl, besides Mitsuki, in the room.

                "You?" He hums. "Listen here, princess. I don't usually hit girls, but if you really made Mitsuki cry, I'm going to beat you up."

                "Come at me, then." You challenge, stepping closer to the blonde as you glare straight at him. "Let's see what the great Kagiroi is made of."

                I didn't mean that! You want to scream, but it's too late, as the biker's grin widens, and he pulls back his fist, prepared to punch you. You brace yourself as your life flashes before your closed eyes, and you hear the thud of flesh against fist, and you feel yourself fly back a little, but the hit never lands on your body.

                The smell of gel hits you first, then the familiar warmth. And as you slowly open your eyes, you feel Jake Kim's big, strong arms wrapped around you as his bicep blocks the punch, the shape of Kuroda Ryuhei's fist still heavily dented in his coat. "Don't you dare touch her," The man downright growls, his eyes ablaze with protectiveness. You flush a little, feeling the eyes of hundreds of Big Deal members looking at the two of you in shock.

                Ryuhei quietly observes the two of you, watching as Jake slowly releases you from his grasp, and you mutter a quiet thanks, the atmosphere between the two of you tense and awkward.

                "Ah," He suddenly smiles, and the two of you look at him. "You're just like me and Mitsuki." You flush a little at the comparison, and glare at him more heatedly, as Jake looks between the two of you in confusion, having known nothing of what the blonde had said.

                "Well, no matter." Ryuhei's smile disappears, and his intimidating aura returns. "He is willing to fight for you, no? Then I'll just kill him instead, for making Mitsuki cry." He leaps at the members of Big Deal, just as dozens of hands grab you and pull you behind the thick horde of Big Deal members, as the men protect you from the biker's wrath.

                You are lost in a sea of red, black and white, the iron tang of blood burning heavily in your nostrils.

                Big Deal streets smelled like home. You found yourself sat on a small plastic stool, blankly staring at the long rows of tables, filled to the brim with Korean street food of every kind. The place was abuzz; the smell of tteokbokki, ramyun, stir-fry and soju mixed together with the loud shouts and laughter of the members around you.

                You shifted slightly in your seat, self conscious of the gazes trained on your body. It was no secret that you were apparently the 'Fallen Angel of Big Deal', infamous for abandoning them during their downfall. The rumors went wild, but after Jake had explained the situation after reading your letter, they grew extremely protective of keeping your namesake safe, rumored to be going around and beating anyone who dragged your name in the dirt.

                Yeonhui and the girls quietly welcomed you with open arms. It was silently agreed that everyone would keep the fact that you had left for a while out of their mouths, until Sinu became a bit more mentally stable. For now, you just had to act normal around everyone - especially Jake.

                Speaking of Jake... your face grows hot as you recall how he had protected you with his body from getting punched by Kuroda Ryuhei. You knew it had to hurt; his arm was slightly trembling as he checked on you, pretending like it wasn't painful to move it around.

                Which is how you found yourself outside the warehouse you knew Jake would be inside. You stare at the door, mentally berating yourself for standing there like an idiot, because every time you tried to knock, your feet would just carry you away, before you walked back to the warehouse, embarrassed. If anyone had seen you, they'd think you were mentally ill.

                Finally, you throw all caution to the wind and knock sharply. "Jerry, I told you not to disturb me." His familiar voice grumbles from inside. albeit slightly muffled, and you deadpan. "It's not Jerry." You say clearly, your lips twitching as you listen to the clatter of an object hitting the floor, followed by rushed scrambles of someone with worn shoes rushing for the door, and you swallow your smile as you come face to face with a disheveled, wild-eyed Jake, clearly not expecting you to visit him.

                The boy breathes your name out, his eyes wide as saucers, and you shuffle your feet a little, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Hi," You mumble a little. "You, um... weren't at dinner."

                "I- yeah." Jake nods along awkwardly. "I wasn't really hungry."

                "Oh," You nod along, and the silence is defeaning.

                "Um... did you need anything?" Just as he speaks, panic flashes in his eyes as he struggles to explain his seemingly rude words. "I'm not trying to be rude or anything! Sorry, I-"

                "It's fine," You crack a small smile. "I brought some ointment. Those hits must've really hurt." You hold up the small plastic bag you'd brought along, and Jake nods a little, smiling awkwardly as he opens the door wider to let you in.

                The first thing you are hit with is how poor the room looks. You weren't kidding. The walls were peeling, the cabinets were rusty, the light was flickering on and off, and the rugs were so brown you never could have imagined that it used to be royal blue - unless you were the one that bought it.

                You clicked your tongue as you pulled out a char to sit beside Jake, digging through your bag of first aid supplies. "Do you not clean this place anymore? How irresponsible of you."

                Jake cracks a small smile as he watches you unscrew the lid of your ointment, scooping out some of its contents, fondness shining clearly in his eyes. "I can't seem to do anything without you by my side, I suppose." He says softly, shyly testing the waters.

                It works, he thinks, as he sees your movements falter and your ears burn red. "Don't test it." You warn, but Jake knows there's no real bite behind your words. His smile grows wider.

                The two of you fall into comfortable silence as you tend to his wounds, as Jake admires your soft face and beautiful features. Fuck, he was an idiot for letting you go. Maybe it was the post-fight haziness, but he felt like he was on cloud nine just with your touch.

                Feeling his gaze on you, you look up from beneath your eyelashes, and Jake nearly has a heart attack. "What?" You say shyly, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

                Jake thinks he wants to start over with you. He wants to start his life with you. And as he searches your eyes, looking for the confirmation he needs that, just maybe, you felt the same way too, he decides to pop the question.

                "Forgive me?" He whispers, and you gulp, acutely aware of how close his face suddenly was to yours. Your mind goes blank. Even after years, he still looks so good, he's able to make your heart flip and butterflies dance to Moonlight Sonata in your stomach.

                Who cares about the past, You think hazily, smiling a little as you remember one particular memory. "Yeonhui told me you cried for an hour after reading my letter." You whisper instead, shifting your face away as you close the lid of the ointment, bending down to place it back into the plastic bag as you bring out a roll of bandages.

                You enjoy watching as Jake's face falls from the corner of your eye, content with torturing him just a little bit more. "I told her not to tell anyone," He groans, running a palm down his face.

                "Mm, I don't think so." You dance around him with your words as you begin to wrap his scar-littered arms, acutely aware of the muscles flexing beneath your touch. "Practically the whole of Big Deal knows, even without Yeonhui saying anything. She may have only told me, but even a fool could guess."

                He watches you quietly, a tinge of playfulness in his voice as he replies. "Well, I guess I'm a fool for you." He replies, and you snort. Jake's face positively lights up, and you are immediately reminded of a puppy being told 'good boy'.

                He is silent until you finish wrapping the bandages, before whispering once more, "Forgive me?" You tie your plastic bag up, straightening your back to stare directly into Jake's hope-filled eyes.

                And finally, you crack a smile, and the charming grin on Jake's face spreads wider. "I thought it was obvious I've already forgiven you?" You murmur with a small smile.

                And when Jake Kim leans forward to kiss you, fireworks explode and swan perform mating dances in your brain.

[l3monlem0n]

Some Murder Drones Episode 7 screenshots I thought were interesting and my thoughts on them :>

SPOILER WARNING!!!! is spoilering

Nori, despite being a middle aged woman with a child, appears to be an Otaku or otherwise likes "edgy" and "scene" stuff, as well as listening to nightcore, very much like her daughter. Good for her tbh you're never too old to have fun

She also has a photo of Khan and what I can only assume is baby Uzi, though it appears to have blue eyes, but maybe it's just the lighting. Still very cute she has a pic of her husband

As well as all the previously mentioned Otaku stuff, she also drew herself as an anime character. She has a skinsona. Phenomenal (pos)

Nothing much here, just Uzi coughing up blood. Girl got the goop (gore) inside of her already

Lab Space. Apparently the Church was just down there and not even the humans know why. The canonicity of this is questionable; it could just be a joke

OT, as per google, stands for "Occupational Therapy". Makes sense for the context, and makes the bottom text funnier

"Fun Time To Universe Big Crunch: 87". The Big Crunch is a hypothetical way the Universe could end, where the universe folds on itself and shrinks into a single point. 87 "what" I don't know. If it's months, that 7 years and 3 months

Honestly the Murder Drones lore is super confusing. I think what this is trying to say is that every other Zombie Drone is doing poorly, (Except for Yeva), they are trying to reactivate 002 (Nori) via the USB. I'm not sure what this means. Maybe they only got the results they wanted from the two of them, and are trying again with Nori since she was the only other one that worked (also why they got Yeva when she failed; this may all be referring to how the episode opened up) Also, the date says SER. As revealed in the episode Cabin Fever, Copper-9 has months that Earth does not. SER most likely stands for Seramorris, the month revealed in that episode

Looks like the "bad event" wasn't the first one. Certainly was the last one though lol

Just a good pic of ghost/hologram V with the scary stuff. Might use this as a wallpaper

You can literally see the hole in his neck where N bit him in...

...And it's to the point his HEAD FALLS OFF. (including because I didn't notice the first time around)

Yup, the idea that Uzi became the Admin for N and V is completely true. I wonder what would've happened if she didn't, since Cyn didn't react whatsoever

friggin bug (very pos)

You would not believe how difficult it was to get a good pic of this (I'm using snipping tool lmao). Always a pleasure to see Uzi's doodles. Things her gun can do (upper right):

NOT judge her

Forced prom date (?)

Allows her to say she had friends before she frickin murdered them with sci-fi machinery

The cut off text at the bottom: Plan B: Normal gun + Shoot really fast

This is while Tessa is looking for something in the lockers. Claws, chains, magnets, Wings, and scribbled "HELP". Looks like the lockers were all specifically to hold the infected worker drones. Oof

We are in the future now baby. We have rererererereCAPTCHA. Funnily enough, it still couldn't stop a robot

There is a message board where someone who doesn't like robots is talking. They also are scared. Also no one else is using this system, which is unsurprising. "Ur aight ;)" Wait is the winky face intentional foreshadowing? Or unintentional?

We get the names of a bunch of other Worker Drones. Unfortunately for all 029 fans, her name was not visible. (also can someone tell me what "JWEB" could be short for?) And Yeva is said to have a patch. That may be the crucible thing idk

Cyn (which I will be calling this version Skyn [Skin + Cyn]) apparently took of the space suit just to give Doll the Withered Foxy jumpscare. Honestly really terrifying. If this photo was teased before release I think the fandom would've exploded

Just N being a good boy :3

The MDs, Cyn's pets. Nori refers to them as "Nerfed" so the "Entity" can ensure control, and says they were made to destroy other hosts. I don't know why Cyn would want them dead, but I'm not the loremaster here. YouTube line is there because I couldn't be bothered after the Railgun image

Probably already confirmed, but doubly confirmed that a symptom of the Solver is giving Drones organic insides. A Worker Drone body with a rib cage and guts. I wonder what would happen if the infection continued uninterrupted (also R.I.P. Doll I loved you :frown:)

I'm sure everyone noticed, but when Uzi tried to manipulate Tessa, the ERROR noticed appeared. Already hinting Tessa is not all she says she is

Apparently the Solver can create Black Hole Saws. Interesting development (Blackhole Blitz)

I know most people (I think) see this as a joke and N just being a bit of goofball. But honestly, I think he did it intentionally to shock Cynuzi and give Nori a chance. In the Pilot, he licked V's sword to surprise her too, which means he isn't unfamiliar with doing something weird and surprising for the advantage

Skyn eating Doll's core. R.I.P. Doll again. Seriously, was that Doll in Core Form like Nori was? Or was Nori a fringe case because she was "Exorcised" and this is just a regular core? Questions, questions. Also yeah the Solver also gives you a Core. Fun

This tag makes me think that this body is Cyn's actual body. Not longer a hologram, but her actual body from the mansion. The reason Tessa gave N, J, and V their names was because that was the first letter of their Serial Designation (she's very uncreative). However, Cyn's tag was slightly faded, which meant her SD couldn't be seen, so Tessa gave her the name "Cyn" after her P/N, even though the other 3 already have the same P/N as Cyn (Tessa, again, is very uncreative)...

...and for some reason, Cyn or the Solver, which ever theory you subscribe to, decided to wear Tessa as a skin suit for some twisted reason. It did help her with the Captcha. Also scary because this doesn't have the right proportions for an adult (unless Cyn really forced that skin on), which leads me to believe that this is a Younger Tessa, and she faked having an older voice. Maybe I shouldn't call her my wife... I'm sure Eldritch J is still available :^)

(Seriously, the eyes are burnt out, leaving two eye holes over the visor, so she gives herself two X eyes so it looks better. Also yeah we found out what that thing on the "It Came From Copper-9" poster came from. It really was Cyn or Skyn)

Just a frame of the final...frame... for coolness. I'm probably also going to use this for a background. Also, this is definitely Copper-9. You can see the ring and ringless moon together on the right. Uzi somehow got sent to orbit after falling in the meat hole

Well that was all for now. This series has consumed me entirely, body and soul, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Goodbye and goodnight

[thedgeoftheuniverse]

puppy love (or something like it)

part 1

— And, nevertheless, you waited and waited for his call and never took more than a moment to respond, both of you trailing after each other in an endless (not) lovesick circle like lost puppies.

((eight)teen, barista!gojo x fem!reader)

(word count: 7k)

(tags/warnings: slightly toxic gojo, sort of fwb gojo, cursing, lightest of light smut, underage drinking (be responsible!!), reader is a bit insecure, time jumps, a hint of meaningless flirting. lmk if i missed any!)

no.. i didn't write 7k words in less than 24 hours...idk what this is but it's def something!!!!

AUGUST 2007 –

Satoru Gojo’s senior year of high school flew by in a blur; between sports (to only slightly brag, he brought his football team to regionals and won—he was only the best quarterback his school had seen in a decade or more), honors classes, a full social life, and demanding parents, it felt like he never had a moment for himself. Sure, he was well accomplished for an eighteen-year-old but he was still just that: eighteen years old.

He realized one day, with a startling abruptness around three in the morning before returning from winter break, that the last eighteen years of his life had been lived under the instruction of someone else. In fact, Satoru could hardly recall a single decision he made by and for himself—he wasn't sure that he had. Even his involvement with sports, for all the love he held for it, was pushed at him by his father from a young age. His extroverted, sociable personality was instilled in him by his mother because, as a member of the Gojo clan, he was held to a higher standard (and amount) for his interactions—he could not, would not, should not shy away from it.

Maybe Suguru and Shoko—his closest, more beloved friends. Maybe keeping them around was the only decision he made for himself; especially Suguru, considering his family was not fond of his more humble (not obscenely wealthy) upbringing. 

On that same night, Satoru realized he rather disliked his parents.

So, in the wake of all the enlightenment and wisdom that can befall an eighteen year old boy, he decided to spite them.

It was a brilliant scheme, one that would cause them displeasure and him satisfaction—Satoru decided to take a gap year between high school and college. He ignored their droning warnings and complaints of ‘If you don't go now, you never will,’ ‘We have worked too hard to let you give up and amount to nothing,’ and, his personal favorite: ‘This is all because of that Geto boy! I knew he was a bad influence!’

(As if he ever could “amount to nothing.” The Gojo name secured his future indefinitely, and they all knew it.)

After a month of argument and debate, an agreement was reached—Satoru would take a gap year under the condition he would find a job to keep him motivated and teach him ‘real world skills,’ or whatever his parents insisted minimum wage work would instill in him. His working theory was that they believed threatening him with real work would make him back down and start applying to schools, but that only made him more spiteful and determined to stick it out for a year. For once, he wanted to do something that he chose, not that was chosen for him.

By the time the end of high school came around, Gojo was close to nineteen and determined to prove his parents' warnings unfounded.

He didn't think it would be this difficult.

He thought brewing coffee was supposed to be easy—a couple scoops of this, a pump or two of that, pour and done.

But the rather chatty, too-upbeat-for-even-Satoru barista was droning on about different roasts, optimal temperatures, the proper angle for steaming a cappuccino (what the fuck was a cappuccino), different grinds of coffee beans—anything and everything under the sun. He never knew coffee was so involved. And the syrups—God, the fucking syrups. He was sure he had never seen so many flavors in one place and he sincerely doubted his ability to memorize them. A million flavors with trillion combinations and a seemingly infinite supply of picky customers requesting the most obscure concoctions of mocha and caramel and fucking mint?! 

Even Satoru knew it was a miracle he hadn't been fired.

But lucky for him, he had a pretty face and the shop was understaffed.

So, after four weeks of employment (and the owner realized he was simply untrainable in the art of coffee) Satoru became the designated cashier and eye candy during his shifts.

It suited him and gave him an opening for routine visits with Suguru during his shifts, so long as no customer went unattended or tables un-bussed.

“Suguruuu,” Satoru droned in that whiny, higher pitch that he knew drove his friend up the wall, “I’m boreddd.”

“Satoruuu,” he mocked, “you’ve only been here for an hour.”

“Yeah, and there's nothing to do.” He pouted. He didn't miss his friend’s (mostly) playful eye roll.

“I’m sure you have something to clean.”

“Nuh uh.”

“The table six feet in front of me thinks otherwise.” Satoru responded with a grumbled “shut up,” but made no move to bus the table. “Satoru, you have to start taking this more seriously. Your parents will be livid if they find out you got fired.”

“I don't care what they think.”

“You need their money—I know you didn't forget your deal that fast.” He could only huff at his friend, knowing that he was right. Satoru’s parents agreed to financially support him and his high maintenance life under the condition that he remain employed; they would cover his portion of rent, utilities, and any emergencies so long as he held down this job for one year. “If you're late on rent, I’m kicking you out.”

“No fair!”

“Fine, just a late fee. Then I’ll evict you.”

“Calm down. They're not firing me. I’m too handsome–it brings in too much business.” Satoru joked with a thumb pointing to the boyish smile adorning his face.

“Yes—that’s why the café is just bustling.” Suguru mocked. The café was entirely empty save for them and the barista that went on her break twenty minutes ago. Satoru decided to not be annoyed at her fifteen turning to a twenty—maybe twenty five. 

He had certainly done worse.

The pair fell into silence for a moment as Suguru began typing away at his laptop, and Satoru restlessly tapped his foot, fingers, and anything else within his reach.

“Satoru. Do you mind?”

“I'm still boredddd!” he cried.

“Well, you'll have to find something to occupy yourself today. I’m working on my class project with my partner today.”

“I don't see them.” Satoru playfully tried closing his laptop. “Looks like you’ll just have to hang out with me instead.”

“She's running a little late.” He swatted his hands away, “And you're in her seat.” 

“You're no fun.” He huffed, crossing his arms and pouting.

“Ow, how will I ever regain your high opinion, your majesty?” He dramatically grasped at his chest, leaning back slightly in his chair in mock pain. “Seriously, man, get up, she just walked in, and unlike you, we plan to get some work done today.”

Satoru grumbled, mocking his friend as he stood up from his chair and pushed it under the table. He complained all the way back to his spot behind the register, where he leaned against the counter with his head propped against his hand, looking utterly bored.

“Excuse me?”

Oh right, you probably wanted to order. Maybe he really did need to pay more attention to his job.

“Sorry about that! What can I…” In an instant, Satoru’s heart grew wings and fluttered violently around his ribcage. It felt nauseating.

Why had Suguru never talked about you before?

And fuck you looked at him like he grew six eyes before he realized he was staring like an utter fool. He tried to recover with a casual clearing of his throat and a fake cough into his elbow. “Sorry! Allergies—what can I get started for you?”

“Just a black coffee, thanks.”

“Of course!” He put on his prettiest smile and smoothest voice for you. “It’s on the house today.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks.” Satoru turned around to pour the coffee, feeling comfortable in his hand eye coordination to handle pouring the cup of coffee despite his lack of comprehension of its intricacies. He tried to ignore how casual you were, seemingly unphased by a kind gesture from a handsome stranger. By the time he finished obsessing to turn back around and hand you the cup, you were already sitting at the table with Suguru, the warmest smile he had ever seen with his own eyes pulling at your cheeks and leaving a shimmer in the room.

There was an unusual feeling boiling in his stomach as he approached you with the mug. Why did Suguru get such a sweet smile and he hardly got an acknowledgment? 

That wasn't how it usually went.

“Here’s that coffee for you,” Satoru approached the table, not missing the suspicious look in Suguru’s eyes as he obviously took note of the effort he put in to bring your drink to the table. The few times Satoru has had to make a drink (only ever black coffee, tea, or ice water), he sits it on the pick up counter and calls out the order name, regardless of it being dine-in or to go. He also knew his friend picked up on his rush to bus the messy table, only because it put him in your direct line of sight, but you could not seem to care less.

He wanted your attention.

It was rather odd—Satoru typically had no issues holding a woman’s attention.

But he could wait. He was patient.

Three hours was about all he could manage.

To his benefit, that was the end of his shift, and he was forced to stand there while you sat in beautiful concentration and occasionally conversed with Suguru. He hoped you would come up for a refill, maybe a pastry; it did nothing for him, since you only left your seat once to use the restroom, asking Suguru where to find it rather than himself, which stirred that vicious feeling in his gut again.

He was clocking out, removing his apron, and about to leave when he heard what he had been waiting for from you for the last miserable three hours: “I'm going to head out, same time tomorrow?”

“You got it.” Suguru beamed at you, offering you a small wave after you packed your belongings away and pushed in your chair. 

You smiled again.

“Suguru!” Satoru exclaimed once you closed the door and crossed the street. His friend only groaned in response. “You didn't tell me she was hot!”

That elicited a small chuckle from him. “I didn't think it was important.”

“Why haven't you told me about her?”

“There's nothing to tell, Satoru. She's my research partner. I barely talk to her outside of class.”

“But you do talk to her!” His eyes lit up in excitement. “You have to set me up, dude.”

“Really?” Another laugh. Was he taunting him? “Why would I do that? We both know your history, Satoru, and I'm not having you run her off before we finish our project.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” He whined.

Sure, maybe, Satoru had a history in high school of being a player but that was the old him and he told Suguru as much.

“You mean, like, two months ago?”

“That's still old! And it's been longer than two months! C’mon man, you gotta help me out here.”

“Why do you care so much? She didn't look very interested.”

“Exactly! You know hard to get is my type! And look at her!” He gestured wildly up and down with his hands.

“And you wonder why she wasn't fawning over you.”

“Suguruuu, pleaseee! I’ll clean the kitchen for a month.”

“You already owe me two months of that for the last two favors you asked me.” The bastard was having fun with this, it was obvious in his smug grin. But Satoru’s annoying whiny voice and pleading eyes did the trick, like they did every time. “Fine. I guess I can invite her over to the apartment for a study session—”

“YES!”

“Hang on. You have to promise me that you won’t make a move until our project is done. You're not going to fuck up my grade.”

“Deal.”

“And—”

“Ughhh, what else?”

“She’s pretty cool. Don't fuck her over.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Suguru was true to his word, for the most part. Rather than meeting at the café the next day, you were invited to their shared apartment at noon—the same time that Satoru’s five-hour shift started.

He could've killed him.

And during every grueling moment of his shift, where he was scheduled with Utahime, who refused to chat with him and instead opted to spend her five hour shift scrubbing down the baseboards with a rag and hot water. That only took two hours. Then she began moving fridges, the whole fucking espresso machine and every single other shelf, syrup rack and bottle on the counters to clean under. All to avoid having to speak with him.

To say Satoru was bored out of his mind was an understatement.

He remained as such until exactly five o’clock, when Shoko came to relieve him. She never showed up a minute early or late.

As he clocked out, there was a message waiting for him.

Suguru

4:27pm

yo, can you pick up a twelve pack on your way? 

Satoru

5:03pm

depends

Suguru

5:03pm

on?

Satoru 

5:04pm

how you plan on making up w me after your little private study sess >:(

Suguru

5:05pm

ugh you're so dramatic. she’s staying for dinner, dumbass. 

you're welcome

Satoru made it to the convenience store and back home in record time.

He walked through the front door, after checking his hair in his phone camera to make sure it was still perfectly mussed, with a grin on his face and a twelve pack in hand.

He was ready to extend a greeting to you when he realized his, perhaps fatal, mistake.

He never asked for your name.

Suguru must have realized the dire circumstances Satoru found himself in, because he quickly introduced you and gave no hint at the ridiculously foolish crush he seemed to be harboring for you after half of a conversation and a few lovesick glances.

You replied with a casual, “Hey,” and a close-lipped smile, and Satoru felt his knees weaken.

“We were just about to order dinner, you good with pizza?”

“Hell yeah.”

NOVEMBER 2007 –

Autumn came and went as all seasons before; suddenly. And so, in similar fashion, winter began creeping in as the calendar flipped to November, leaving more of a chill in the air with each passing day.

You were swept away in a wave of classes, homework, projects, and newfound friendships—most notably (and the least expected) being Suguru, Shoko, and Satoru. 

Suguru was perhaps the sweetest boy you had met in college. He was considerate of you, never toeing the line of being anything more than your friend; he worked hard with you on your project, and you majorly credited him and his tutoring to your current passing grade in Yaha’s biology class. You frequently met at the local café just off campus for coffee and the occasional blueberry scone where Satoru was almost always working. It was difficult for you to connect with others, your more impassive demeanor leading others to believe you were catty or rude. Suguru never seemed to think that of you, always being a comforting, warm contrast to you. You were grateful to have him as your friend. 

Him letting you braid his hair was merely an added bonus.

Shoko became another close, deeply loved friend to you. She was at Suguru and Satoru’s apartment almost as frequently as you (any chance to escape dorm life was welcomed), and while she was almost as slow opening up to strangers as you, she was never anything less than loving and kind. You joined her for her smoke breaks on the patio, you listened to her gossip about friends or work or class—anything and everything under the sun. When you sprained your ankle in the middle of September (an incident involving copious amounts of liquor and an electric scooter that she did not hesitate to gently mock you for), she wrapped your ankle every day for a week and a half and mothered you until she believed you were clear to resume your normal activities. You decided against telling her it would still hurt a little after climbing stairs or wearing sandals.

And Satoru… well, he was Satoru; always toeing over the line between friendly and flirtatious, always back and forth, hot and cold, clingy and distant depending on the day. You were more unfamiliar with him than Suguru and Shoko. Not to say you were not fond of him—he always knew how to make you laugh. His inattentive personality always guaranteed entertainment, a dull moment never being a thought with him, and he was certainly charismatic despite him seeming overall an enigma to you—an unusual mix of obvious transparency yet never beyond a surface level. While you knew he would like to believe otherwise, he was blatant in his initial affections for you. That only lasted through the middle of October, where he seemed to realize his advances went unnoticed. He put the pieces together when Shoko mentioned your boyfriend back home and dropped the notion altogether. 

That was one thing you could always credit him for—he knew when it was time to stop; whether it was a joke, a game, his excitable energy, or anything else for that matter. While his antics were an essential part of his personality, Satoru was still mature and empathetic in spite of his best effort to prove otherwise. The playful flirting was still present from both of you, but never more than just that—playful, but enough to maintain a gray area that left you confused more often than not.

Still, you cared for him, in spite of his flaws and the confusing nature of your friendship.

And his horrible latte-making skills.

You had to give him credit for trying, and there certainly was improvement from his first drink, but the espresso always tasted burned and the milk was a little cold and lacking any sort of aeration or foam. 

You just didn't have the heart to tell him.

Suguru, however, certainly did.

“Satoru, you've worked here for how long now? How did you manage to make a steamer taste burned?”

“Okay, Karen, I’ll remake it for you.”

“No, I will.” Shoko piped up from behind the counter. It was one of the rare shifts that the manager had no option but to schedule Shoko and Satoru together—an occurrence you found she tried desperately to avoid, knowing that you and Suguru would be in the café and distracting the two for the duration of the shift. But, with the majority of her other staff having taken off for the upcoming holidays or cramming for exams, she had little option.

“Thank you, Shoko.” You couldn't help but sympathize with your friend, despite his disdain for anything interpreted as pity. The stress of exams seemed to weigh heavily on him. “It’s a miracle you're still employed, man.”

“Hey! I already told you, I’m just the eye candy.”

Shoko scoffed from behind the counter, earning a grumpy look in her direction.

“As if.” You taunted, never tearing your gaze from your laptop.

“Soooo…” Satoru began, changing the topic of conversation away from mockery at his expense, “Are you guys going to Utahime’s party tomorrow?”

“Are you sure she even invited you? I thought she hated you.”

“Pssh, what're you talking about? She loves me!” He replied, which earned him an incredulous look from the three of you. “And anyway, I’m Suguru’s plus one.”

“You are?”

Before he could question further, Satoru turned his attention to you, “Are you going?”

“Oh, I really don't know… I have to study for my exams.”

“Oh, c’monnnn,” He whined, “You can take one night to have fun. You've been glued to that thing for days now.” To emphasize his point, Satoru closed your computer, leaving you thankful for the auto-save feature on your document.

You felt torn, wanting to enjoy an evening with your friends but also needing to prioritize your studies. You were dangerously underprepared and couldn’t risk less than perfection on your exam.

But what’s one night?

“Okay, fine. But only for a couple hours, then I’m coming home to study.”

Satoru threw his fist in the air as a sign of victory, finally leaving your personal space to return behind the counter where he was finishing his closing duties for the night. From what you've been told, he always seemed to work harder when you were around, though you couldn't understand why.

“It’ll be good for you to get out.” Suguru commented with a soft look in his eyes, “You’ve been pretty closed off since the break-up.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I know. It’s just weird, I guess. The distance and all made things hard, but…”

“Hey, I get it.” He reached out to gently rub your shoulder, knowing these conversations were far from your strong suit. “This’ll be good for you. I’ll make sure you have someone to talk to.”

“Thank you, Sugu.”

Shoko came around a moment later with a latte in one hand and a steamer in the other. She sat them on the table and threw a wink in your direction, seemingly noticing even behind the counter that your original drink sat untouched. You usually ordered a black coffee when Satoru was at the espresso bar (which you still received a few questionable cups of), but he was insistent on making your latte today, claiming to have been practicing just for you. He had been more distant than clingy lately, and could not help but cave to the sudden attention he was showing you.

That was something else about Satoru—you found yourself craving his approval after a short time of his friendship. It was a realization that you would never make apparent to him for fear of inflating his ego or exasperating his behavior, and one that frustrated you to no end. Never before had you craved attention in such a way, not even from your ex-boyfriend, who, in all honesty, was wholly inattentive and unaffectionate even before the distance.

You spared a moment from your laptop to watch him behind the counter as he cleaned underneath syrup racks and jugs of chocolate and realized you knew little to nothing about Satoru Gojo. 

“Who knows, maybe you’ll find someone there.” There was a look in Suguru’s eye that gave the missing context to his words.

You scoffed, “As if. You know that’s not quite my scene.”

“I’m just saying.” he replied, throwing his hands up in defense, “You could probably do with a little stress relief. You haven’t gone anywhere other than your dorm, my place, or here in weeks. Let loose a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” 

As promised, you arrived at the party already one drink in, and with a six pack of your favorite beer after asking Utahime what the drink selection would be like. She rattled off a list of various spirits that you knew would leave you hungover, miserable, and unable to resume your studies in the morning.

It was more crowded than you expected.

In fact, it was nearly shoulder to shoulder as you made your way through the house to find a spot in the fridge to sit your drinks. What should have been a thirty-second walk to the kitchen turned into a three-minute debacle. After being stopped by two drunken classmates who were shocked to see you while you were finding an empty couch to lay your coat and weaving through a dozen or so bodies, you finally made it to the fridge. Unsurprisingly, it was stuffed full of snacks, bottled water, sodas, and a dozen or so bottles of rum, whiskey, vodka and who-knows-what-else meaning you had to remove each individual bottle from the box to find an opening for them, leaving one out for you to start on.

With your head in the fridge and being entirely unaware of your surroundings, you were startled when you heard your name called, resulting in you slamming your head straight into the top of the fridge before you straightened and turned around. There was no concealing your embarrassment as you came face-to-face with the originator.

And you weren’t shocked to find him stifling a laugh.

“Thanks for that, Gojo.” You knew he hated it when you called him that.

“Wow, so it’s like that? And here I was, about to offer you a drink.” You raised the opened bottle in your hand to show your lack of necessity for one. “Bleh, I don’t know how you drink that shit.” “I could say the same for you. I think I saw you adding simple syrup to your drink when I came in.”

“It was only like three pu—wait, you did not!”

“Gotcha.” You flashed him a smile, and for a moment thought he looked mildly uncomfortable as he cleared his throat. “You’re too predictable, Gojo.”

“Nooooo, you know I hate it when you call me that.” He whined, playfully stamping his feet in a way that indicated he probably already had more than one drink. It was difficult to tell with him, considering the more wild side of his personality shone brightest in crowds. He was an extrovert through and through.

“Don’t give me a reason to call you that.”

“You’re so mean.” He pouted, a sultry undertone lacing his voice.

“You love it, though.” You teased, looking up at him underneath your lashes.

It felt unusual, the banter between you. What felt more unusual was the one-on-one interaction. For a moment, you couldn't place why until you realized you hadn’t had a single interaction with Satoru where Shoko or Suguru wasn’t around as a buffer in more than a month. In fact, he had been mostly absent since you broke things off with your boyfriend.

Was he avoiding you?

“Yeah, it’s pretty hot.” His cheeks were flushed but he did not backtrack.

“Shut up,” you blushed, rolling your eyes in feigned annoyance. “Where’s Suguru?”

“That eager to get rid of me?”

“Yes—where is he?”

“No clue, but I think Shoko’s around somewhere.”

“Thanks, pretty boy.” He grew even more red, if possible.

Maneuvering around the bodies in the dining room with two drinks in your hand (one for you and one for Shoko)  and leaving behind a mildly flustered Satoru, you found her exactly where you expected—outside by the bonfire with a cigarette in her lips and a blissed look in her eyes that told you she’d had more than just alcohol. You called out to her, and she smiled at you, waving her hand over to invite you to sit beside her. You tried not to laugh as her cigarette fell from her lips to the ground.

“Hey, girl!” She called out to you. “So glad you made it out!”

You gave a polite nod and smile, settling in beside her as the conversation resumed around you but mostly without you. You didn’t mind much; you were content with not having to navigate the interaction with people you didn’t know. You made a few comments here and there, mostly responding to polite questions and statements towards you.

“What’s your name? “What’re you studying?”

“I haven’t seen you around before.” “Oh! You’re friends with Geto and Gojo, right?”

“You’re in Yaga’s class, right? He’s such a hardass!”

It was enjoyable for a few moments, but after twenty or so minutes, the conversation seemed to leave you behind for the most part. 

When your drink was empty and you were comfortably buzzed, you took that as your sign to be leaving. Shoko tried to give pushback but resigned to expressing gratitude that you came out to begin with.

“If you see Suguru, tell him I’m sorry I missed him.” You slurred. “You got it!”

You weren’t sure what possessed you to brave the treacherous navigation of the house when you could have circled around to the front yard—something like one more beer and a couple of crackers calling your name before leaving, or whatever other excuse your tipsy mind convinced you of. Regardless, you found yourself back at the fridge with another drink in your hand that was disappearing in an alarming amount of time.

“I didn’t think you had it in you.”

How did he keep finding you?

“Gojo.”

“Satoru,” he whined, “What did I do to deserve that one?”

“My head still hurts.” “Hey! I didn’t make you hit your head.” 

“Then I’m preparing for the next time you're bad.”

“C’mon, you know I stay on my best behavior for you.” And there were those damn puppy dog eyes, only there for a moment as you could feel him switch to watching you in mild concern as you tipped your head back to take another long swig. “Ya know, when we said you needed to let loose a bit, we did only mean a bit.”

“I’ve only had a bit.” He made a sound to indicate he didn’t believe you as he leaned against the fridge door. “And besides, I’m leaving now.”

“You didn’t drive, did you?”

“No, I just walked. It’s not far.”

“Wait,” Looking embarrassed at his eagerness, “I can take you home. You live on campus, right?”

“Are you sure? You looked like you were having a pretty good time. And wait—haven’t you been drinking?”

“I barely touched the one I had. Too strong. Scouts honor.” He lazily raised three fingers and folded his thumb over his pinky. “I was going to DD for Suguru, but he found someone to leave with. I can’t find him anywhere.”

“Wow, so you really do just act like this all the time.”

“Mean.”

“You know you love it.” And there was that flush in his cheeks again.

The ride to your dorm was relatively quiet. Upbeat pop music played softly in the background as Satoru kept both of his eyes glued to the road, being on high alert for the possibility of drunk drivers on a Friday night. It felt comfortable, you thought. Your moments with Satoru were few and far between these days—you would be willing to wager that tonight was the most one-on-one time you had spent with him in more than a month. Perhaps it was the alcohol talking, but you couldn’t help but feel insecure about it. Were you that miserable that Satoru Gojo, the extrovert to end all extroverts, could only handle your company with a buffer? It certainly could not have been the case, considering his apparent willingness to drive you home. Then again, he knew how close you were with Suguru, and despite his arrogance, Satoru was a good person. He wouldn’t let you walk home alone when it was so late, Suguru would be livid.

Right?

Too lost in thought to notice he was already parked in front of your building, Satoru softly spoke your name. “You good?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just tired. Thanks for the lift.” You began to reach for your keys in your coat pocket when you realized that you were not wearing your coat. Unable to hide your frustration at your blatant forgetfulness, you groaned loudly and threw your head back.

“What’s wrong?” “I left my keys in my coat pocket at Utahime’s, and my roommate isn’t home.”

“I can just take you to mine and Suguru’s place.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’m sure I’ve got something that’ll fit you.”

It was only another eight minutes to the apartment, but it felt like the longest drive of your life, unable to stifle the anxiety building in your gut. In the most casual tone you could muster, you offered him an out. “You can drop me back at the party or something if you need; I don’t want to intrude.” Satoru looked at you with pure astonishment. “You could never.” He said it with such sincerity, a rather rare sentiment from him.

Upon your arrival at his apartment, Satoru kicked off his shoes and wandered to the fridge, and you made yourself comfortable on the couch. He returned to you in the living room with a beer in one hand and a can of grape soda in the other. He handed you the beer with a silent question posed as a raised eyebrow, asking if you wanted another. You accepted with a polite nod.

He joined you on the couch, sitting close enough that you could feel his body heat and throwing an arm around the back. You could smell his cologne, slightly musky with a hint of vanilla and something signature to Satoru and only Satoru. He leaned his head back and inhaled deeply. You couldn’t keep yourself from staring at his Adam's apple as it bobbed up and down, looking altogether tempting from your position. It was comfortably silent as the two of you sat on the couch together, breathing in the comfort of each other’s scent. You entirely forgot about your previous anxieties, recalling the familiarity of his presence and enjoying the remnants of your buzz.

“I’m glad you came out tonight.” His head never raised, and you stared at his throat as he spoke—his milky skin that never seemed to tan no matter how much time he spent in the sun, the wisps of hair that flipped in all directions by his ears and the nape of his neck, the barely visible shaved sides of his neatly trimmed undercut, the sharpness of his collarbones that peeked out from his t-shirt. 

He looked… tempting.

In that moment, you understood why he was so desired. Half of the girls in your college sought after him, despite him not being a student.

Suguru’s comment from the day before rang in your ears.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll find someone there.”

You realized too late that you forgot to respond. “I can feel you staring, ya know?” 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” “I don’t need to. You’re doing it for me.” He finally rested his gaze on you but still never moved his head, only cutting a lazy sideways glance in your direction. Even in the dim lamplight of the living room, his eyes were all consuming. You didn’t think you had ever seen them so up close. You thought for a moment that he held an ocean in his eyes—it was the only explanation for their unnatural, almost more than human hue. Maybe he was just Satoru Gojo, and his name alone was enough to blur the lines between possible and impossible.

It was infuriating.

(Or maybe you had more to drink than you thought.)

“What else am I doing for you?” You purred. Everything in your mind screamed this was a bad idea, that you were about to leap over the line of playful and purposeful, but you couldn’t stop yourself—not when he snuck half-second glances at your lips, and his own looked so soft as they parted slightly with a small line of spit keeping them connected.

“I could show you better than tell you.” His tongue came out to wet his lips, and his teeth bit down on the lower slightly. Despite your focus on the sight, you didn’t miss the way his hips slightly shifted and his legs spread out a little wider.

It was intentional.

“C’mon then, Gojo. Don’t keep me waiting.”

He inched closer, a large hand coming to cup your check as he shifted his arm from the couch cushion to wrap around your waist and pull you into his side. “You know what to call me.”

“I think you can show me better than tell me.” 

The tension snapped. Self control was a distant thought of a forgotten memory as Satoru utterly devoured you. The two of you were a mess of teeth and tongues and wandering hands as he trailed from your check to gently rest on your throat. He brought his thumb around and offered a hesitant squeeze to your throat to gauge your reaction. You assumed he found what he was looking for in the low moan you released because he applied the perfect amount of pressure—enough to make your mind fuzzy but not so much to cause discomfort, and you let out a choked moan that made him smile evilly against your lips.

“I always knew you’d be into this.” He pulled slightly away from you, lightly increasing the pressure applied against your throat to hold you in place as you tried chasing his lips. “Ah, ah.” He pulled farther away, making a point to raise his head high enough that he cut his eyes to look down on you. “What are you supposed to call me?”

“Satoru.” You purred.

“Good girl.” He cooed, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He pulled you into his lap, and you knew he was blissfully unaware that you had him right where you wanted him. You hovered just above the growing hardness in his pants, ignoring his pawing hands guiding you down.

“Don't be a brat.” He emphasized it with a slap to your ass. You could feel the skin turning red.

It made you feel spiteful.

Adding to your spite was Suguru, who was fumbling with his key just outside of the front door. He must have dropped them three times and spent another few seconds searching for the right one to unlock the door; it was fortunate for you, considering the compromising position you found yourself in at the moment. Satoru immediately threw you off of him and shot up to run to his bedroom, the tent in his jeans so painfully obvious that even Suguru in his piss drunk state would have caught on.

Whether or not he would catch your flushed cheeks and overall airlessness was yet to be determined.

“Satoruu!” He called through the apartment, “How many times do I have to tell you to lock the door behind you?”

“Sorry, was a bit distracted,” he replied, far too casually for you to feel content with what just happened. You were still out of breath. “Someone left their keys at Utahime’s, she’s gonna crash here tonight. Anyway, I thought I saw you leaving?

“Yeah, to grab food.” Suguru hiccuped, “What do you think I am, a whore?”

“Well, yeah.”

He only responded to that with an eye roll, “I’m throwing up and going to bed. Have a good night.” He said your name, still unaware of your flustered state, “You know where the extra blankets are, I’ve got clothes in the dryer if you need ‘em.”

“Thanks, Sugu.”

JULY 2008 —

Your freshman year felt like it was over before it ever truly began. You stayed swept up in schoolwork and classes following winter break, practically suffocating in it.

Suguru and Shoko stayed a life saving constant for you. They never faulted you when you had to cancel plans, and Suguru even offered to do your homework if it meant it would take a weight off your shoulders. Of course, you declined, but the offer nearly brought you to tears. Being himself, he brushed it off as nothing and made you well aware it was an open, no strings attached offer. Shoko was there for several near catastrophic breakdowns, being a comforting presence and refusing to let you bum a cigarette from her, instead offering you a beer or your favorite scone from the cagé—you were thankful she didn't allow you to compromise your health like that.

And Satoru… well, he was still Satoru but in a different light.

You never talked about what happened.

You never talked about the other times it almost happened, either.

You never mentioned that it was why you stopped drowning in schoolwork at his and Suguru’s apartment and stayed in your dorm more often than not.

You never asked him if it meant anything, knowing the answer already. You knew he ebbed and flowed in his own ununderstandable ways, and you knew you couldn't subject yourself to his fickle personality as anything more than a friend. You also knew better than to question him, holding out for the moments that he was more on than off.

But still, things changed.

More often than not, he trailed after you like a puppy, always seeking your approval or praise and switching back to giving you free coffees when he was on shift. You knew it meant nothing, since he started doing the same for Shoko and Suguru. The end of his mandatory employment was rapidly approaching, and he couldn't be bothered to care about the repercussions—they were nothing to him; who would fire the great Satoru Gojo and risk the wrath of his obscenely affluent family? There were times he would bring your favorite latte to you, regardless of if you were in your dorm or at his apartment. There were times he brought a blueberry scone too—if the café was out, he brought you peach instead.

The flirting never stopped. It also never increased but it was charged, with the feeling of his hands around your throat, and the taste of his lips and tongue. If you focused on the moment hard enough, you could still remember the rasp in his voice when he called you “good girl.”

It was painful.

It was nothing in comparison to the line of women he consistently brought to the apartment, regardless of your presence.

It made you sick—not from unrequited affection (or so you told yourself) but from the implication that you were only a failed conquest; the confirmation that Satoru would only do as Satoru pleased, and you were a placeholder between his hookups or failed talking stages.

Still, he was your friend. Still, you cared. Still, you were lost without him.

And still, he was dreadful at lattes.

And nevertheless, you waited and waited for his call and never took more than a moment to respond, both of you trailing after each other in an endless (not) lovesick circle like lost puppies.

You realized it was rather pathetic when you picked up on the first ring.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey, 'Toru.” 

“Are you busy?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“What are you about to ask for?”

“You. Suguru’s out for the night.”

“I’ll be there in thirty.”

For all nineteen years of wisdom that Satoru possessed, you wondered if he could see what he was doing to you. 

(accidentally made this SAD., my apologies!! i will not be changing,. anyway, updating to add sneak peak of pt 2 :3)

[durgeapologist]

I'm confused, durge. Do you like Solrook or Solavellan? Your post bashing Solavellans contradicts your recent reblogs defending them. What are your actual thoughts on these ships? Because I cannot tell.

alright i feel like this needs to be said here and now. buckle up because this is long, and probably the only time i will be commenting on this ever again.

i do not hate the solavellan ship. i have stated many times across all my socials that i used to be a hardcore solavellan shipper. i am IN LOVE with my lavellan. i literally started playing the dragon age series because i heard about the betrayal in solas' dai romance, and i am a sucker for angst. i played through dao and da2 just to romance him with my lavellan in dai.

when dav came out, first day of release, i set my world state up to be solavellan. i redeemed him and sent her off to the fade with him. point blank.

however, even before i started shipping dreadrook, i was wary of solavellan FANS. not the ship, the FANS. i am a solas lover to the ends of the earth and back. i can get behind ANY ships that involve him. what i cannot, and will not ever, get behind is the absolute infantilization of both solas and lavellan that many solavellan shippers i have interacted with engage in.

i had to leave and the solasmancers subreddit because they bashed the fuck out of epler for having SANE and NORMAL takes on solas' villainous behavior. because: YES. solas is a VILLAIN. he is an ANTAGONIST. and for some reason, most of the solavellans i was friends/mutuals and most other VOCAL solavellans i saw refused to admit as much.

they baby solas, they baby their self-insert lavellans, and they romanticize the ship without acknowledging the (imo delicious) potentials for a tragic, toxic, and morally-grey partnership. they whiddle solas down to this abused, kicked, drowing puppy that must be saved- nay, can only be saved by their adoring, kind, never-angry-always-understanding lavellans.

i also dislike immensely the way rook gets dragged through the mud, killed off, belittled, bullied, etc. by some (not all) solavellans who cannot handle solas having insane chemistry with another character. because the chemistry between dreadrook is insane.

i could drone on for hours my issues with the solavellan fans that twist and bend the relationship dynamic between the two, but i won't. it's been regurgitated by so many people so many times, and i would be adding nothing new to the conversation.

my canon lavellan romanced solas and moved on to cullen after the events of trespasser. my canon lavellan would never leave her life behind in southern thedas to follow solas into the fade for eternity, especially not after he killed varric. if your lavellan would do that, then kudos to you! really! i am so thankful many solavellans have a way to get their happy endings! i did it the one time for the novelty, and never will again.

but i can't stand solavellans who can't admit to themselves that their pairing is just as toxic as (if not more than) the dreadrook pairing, and i doubly cannot stand solavellans that baby the fuck out of the pairing. these are two grown (pixelated) adults. they are not infants. their relationship is built on lies and deceit (again, delicious dynamic to me!) and it heavily annoys me when people cannot admit that.

THIS IS ALL TO SAY: i do not hate ALL solavellans. my bestest mutuals and online friends are major solavellan shippers. i am a solavellan shipper. i just so happen to enjoy dreadrook a thousand times more, and therefore have my lavellan married to cullen in my canon world state while my rook and solas frolick off into the sunrise together.

tldr; it's a CERTAIN TYPE of solavellan FAN that i do not enjoy interacting with. i do not think ALL solavellan fans are like this. i KNOW they are not. it's just the ones that ARE happen to be the loudest in a room at any given time. that is all.

[ephemeraltapes]

burning candle - prologue

chapter: 0/?

pairings: reader x stiles, lydia x stiles, ?

word count: 754

synopsis: a glimpse into the year before, when your biggest concern was stiles finding out about your crush on him.

You tap your pencil against your lip while you listen to your English teacher drone on about the book you were supposed to read for class. You sighed, looking at the clock wondering if this will ever be over.

12:30PM. Only half an hour has passed and it made you groan internally. You glance over at Lydia to see if she was thinking the same thing. When you make eye contact with her it seems you’re both thinking the same thing. You crack a smile at her which she mirrors. She looks down at a paper in her notebook, quickly writing something down before passing it to you.

You open the folded paper. “I haven’t heard a single word she’s said this whole time.” You try to hold back a laugh while writing back a reply before passing it to her. She reads your handwriting and tries to hold back her laughter but she can’t. The teacher stops what she’s saying and turns to Lydia. “Is there anything you want to share with us Ms. Martin?” Lydia raises and eyebrow, “Don’t let my giggling stop you from your boring lecture.” The teacher sighs before turning to her desk and handing both you and Lydia a detention slip. You groan and put your head in your hands.

“Alright, let’s continue.”

As the bell rings signaling the end of your class, you feel a tap on your shoulder as you’re putting your books away in your bag. You turn, expecting to see Lydia behind you, only to come face to face with the boy you’ve been crushing on for ages. Stiles Stilinski.

The brown-eyed boy is saying something to you but you’re finding it hard to listen. You watch the way his lashes flutter against his cheek every time he blinks. He’s so handsome. You’re brought out of your trance as you hear him call your name twice in a row. “Are you even listening to me?”

You blink out of your thoughts, “Can you repeat it for me, maybe?” He shakes his head and does so anyways. “Listen to me,” He puts his hands on your shoulders, “you need to help me with the Lydia situation.” Your chest aches hearing those words come out of his mouth. Not this again. “Last idea didn’t go well?” You ask out of politeness, because you already knew the answer.

“Haha. Very funny.” The sarcastic tone is heavy in his words. “I don’t know why your advice doesn’t work. I mean- you guys have best friends for years and you know her better than anyone!” You frown, although it upsets you that his affection is directed towards your best friend you still sympathize with his situation. I mean, who could understand him better than you? You are literally in his exact situation. Although, you think you might somehow be worst off even though Stiles actually knows your name.

“I’m sorry to hear that Stiles. I think she’s really into Jackson right now. Not a day goes by where that man’s name doesn’t come out of her mouth at some point.” You pat his shoulder to comfort him. “There’s no guy out there better than you...” You inhale before continuing, “I don’t know... how she doesn’t see what’s right in front of her.” Your words make him smile, even if it’s just a little bit. “It must be tiring to hear me mope about Lydia all the time. I know I’ve already tired out Scott.” He tries to laugh off his words but you can tell that he’s actually a bit upset from the situation. “It’s normal to want to talk about your crush, especially if you’ve liked them for a long time.”

Stiles laughs at your words. “Then how come you never talk about your crush?” Your eyes widen but you try to shake off his pointed statement. “Well that’s because I obviously don’t have one.” Stiles narrows his eyes at you, you feel yourself start to sweat almost. Why does this feel like it’s going to turn into an interrogation?

“Fine. I’ll let it go.” You let out the breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. You never realized the prospect of Stiles finding out about your one-sided affection for him would have such an effect on you. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. “But you’ll tell me someday, right? Maybe when you finally go on a date with him?” You let out what could be described as the most unconvincing laugh of all time. “Totally.”

[fanaticsnail]

big sister snail 🫰🏻

plz a garp fluff

(mad daddy issues mmkkm)

Bonnie Lass

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 3,659

Summary: As the assistant to one of the warlords of the seas, it is your task to man the small den-den-mushi earpiece assigned to Mihawk: managing his assignments, scribing the notes of importance. As the receiver drones on, you answer the call and are greeted to the familiar brogue of the Vice-Admiral you had not yet met face to face. 

Themes: age gap, flirtation, “The Garpening”, Vice-Admiral!Garp x Assistant!Reader, mutual pining, faceless swooning, den-den-mushi calls, suggestive dialogue (not heavily NSFW but implied themes), f!reader, gendered terms used. 

Notes: Garp do be looking mighty fine at the faceless end of the transponder ear piece… I blame @sordidmusings and @carrotsunshine for this. Came out a lot more flirty than intended, but then again - it's Garp.

The vocal hum of the small shell of the den-den mushi had your head lulling on your shoulders. A sigh depleting from your chest alongside an eye roll had you place the firm shell against the shell of your ear, hooking over the curvature and securing it against your lobe. 

Being Lord Dracule Mihawk’s personal assistant was no easy feat; securing such a luxury to work for a man of high reputation challenged you in all the ways that mattered. His intimidating aura, alongside his world renown title as “World’s Greatest Swordsman,” had challengers from all four points of the seas calling his receiver at all hours of the day. 

Setting down your morning coffee against your work station, you huffed out an exasperated breath, and pressed down against the shell of the receiver to begin a verbal dialogue with the recipient at the other end. 

"Lord Dracule Mihawk residence, state your name and purpose," you drawled monotonously with a practiced disdain, fishing out your notepad and pen to begin to notarize any key points to the call. A small pause occurred before the familiar rumble of a partially hushed tone drew a shudder through your spine. 

"...Oh, Bonnie Lass. I wassnae prepared to hear such a sweet melody from a pretty lady so early in the morn,” the voice hushed against your earpiece, your heart swelling at each syllable he graced you with. You shook your head to stifle your nerves, a smile threatening to break over your lips.

"Good morning to you too, Vice Admiral,” you purred professionally into the earpiece, “Shall I fetch Lord Mihawk for you?" The soft crackle of distortion hid the verbal growl in refutation from him. 

Of all of the calls you had been privy to receive, the ones you looked forward to the most belonged to the rumbly drawl of the marine vice-admiral. The initial meeting of his gruff aggression to your playful vocal tone immediately held him smitten against his desk, leaning his chin on the heel of his palm and a dopey smile gracing over his features. 

He had not felt this way for an individual in some time, never allowing himself to give in to entertaining the thought of joining himself so affectionately with a woman, for anything more than a brief fling. As his gruffness met the honey-sweetness of your voice, all words of caution were flung to the wind as he drank in each word you purred at him.

You were much the same in a similar sense. Your duties performing as Mihawk’s assistant held every waking moment of your attention, constantly chasing the broody warlord around with itineraries, notes and alerts, and jobs he’d received at the call of the marine headquarters. 

"Allow me the luxury of hearing your voice a little longer, Lass,” his voice held a small promise of your regular flirtation engaging with one another, hitching at the ‘L’ in ‘Lass’, “You know what your pretty melody does to a man like me."

Rotating your head on your neck, you stifled the rising tension of your fluttered heartbeat. You could only admit to yourself what the brutish whispered tone of the Vice-Admiral roused in you, refusing to speak it to light with a verbal confirmation. A small smirk rose to your features, the hardened pelt of your heartbeat elevating in your chest.

"Vice-Admiral, you're making me blush,” your coy purr called to him, serenading him with your flirtatious tone. Although you could not see him, his rumbled cocky laugher held you hostage to his comments.

"That's not all I could make you do, Lass,” his voice rumbled against your earpiece, his drawl vibrating against your eardrum, causing your blush to rise and follicles to stand to attention to his every command. 

Although you had never met face to face, you could tangibly feel his smile within the mouthpiece of the den-den-mushi. He had informed you prior that he was more than twice your age, not a factor you had pushing aside your flirtatious words and halting them completely. Although your curiosity held you bound to his words, you refused to look up imagery of him in fear of shattering the illusion you had crafted for yourselves.

Garp was sure he had pushed a boundary with that final statement, anxiety pulsing at his neck with an intense rapidity. Panicked, his eyes floated to his desk and catching his attention over the novel he had been reading over the past few nights.

"Did you read that chapter we were talking about yesterday?" he’d asked you suddenly with the craving the answer you held behind your smile. You looked to the leather bound book beside your notepad; it’s words sprawled over your desk beneath its open pages.

"I did, Vice-Admiral. It was beautiful,” you recounted the playful and romantic words written on their page, “I especially enjoyed the part where they met face to face for the first time-." Your playful and longing tone was met with a small, dry laugh from the vice-admiral.

"-I know what you're hinting at, Wee Bonnie,” his voice cut you from your thoughts, his brogue causing a subtle swoon within your chest, “Your boss won't let you come on his next task, so we're not going to meet for a while yet.” 

Almost allowing a small whine to depart from your lips at such a confirmation, you instead hardened your resolve and played into his wild flirtations. 

“Vice-Admiral-,” you began, halting by his next rumbled words alone.

“-Garp, lass,” his vocal reprimand called to you, “Call me Garp, wee Bonnie. We’ve spoken so much of late, you have no need for such titles anymore.” Your heart swelled, a warm flush rising to your cheeks at such an utterance from a powerful figure. 

“Garp,” your voice called to him, his body curling into the receiver further for every drawn out syllable you poured onto him, “I will be ushered into whichever seas you call my lord to be. Should you desire to meet face to face-.”

“-I shall forever desire to meet such a beautiful woman. I crave hearing your laugh in person,” he halted the end to your declaration with a confirmation of his own. Your heart fluttered at the rising anxiety depicted at the mouthpiece end of your receiver. After a few moments pause, your smile had your words beaming through the transponder.

“Was there a particular reason you called the Dracule residence, Garp?” Your voice ticked at the end, hoping to stifle any personal favoritism from the vice-admiral at the other end of the call. No such stiflement occurred, the vice-admiral’s voice crackling through the static of the den-den-mushi to affirm you instead.

“Just wanted to hear your voice, Bonnie Lass,” he confessed, his breathy voice dancing within the same frequency of your heartbeat. Your giggle rose a swell within the vice-admiral, his longing for you physically depicted within his risen hue of a pink flush. 

“You have heard me, Garp. Does this mean I will not hear from you until you call for my employer again?” You quipped, your smile dancing on your teeth with its humorous jest. 

“If I had my way,” his rumble broke you from your taunting, hanging on his every syllable with glazed orbs and dancing heart elevation, “I’d have you on my lap and whispering your praises into my ear each time the sun rose and set each day.” You drew your dominant hand up, clasping over your lips to halt a girlish squeal from departing from your lips.Taking several moments to halt your rapid heartbeat and youthful anticipation, you drew the mouthpiece into your lips to allow every vocal utterance to flee from your lips. 

“Vice-Admiral,” you gasped breathily, flicking your tongue out to dampen your lips as you hardened your resolve, “I do not think you could handle such an attentive partner fawning over you on your lap.” You heard his breath suck in through his mouth, halting as it hit his chest.

“Garp,” He corrected you in a breathy whisper, “Call me Garp.” 

“Garp,” your voice purred as you continued your train of thought, sitting back against your office chair and kicking your right foot as it hooked over your left knee, “You would not know where to place your hands, should you ever find my company upon your lap.” Although the crackle of distortion drew against the earpiece of the den-den-mushi, it did very little to withdraw the growl from the other end of the call.

“I could think of several places I would place my hands, Bonnie Lass,” he uttered in a low rumble allowing great distance to fall between each syllable, “You’d be begging and crying for my attention to remain in a certain few key places.” 

At that final confirmation, you allowed a girlish giggle to flee from your chest sooner than you could contain it. Each small, melodic twinkle of your laugh held Garp captive beneath the whisper of your breath. 

“Are you flirting with me, Vice-Admiral?” Your playful voice called to him, his den-den-mushi staring at him with a vacant stare. He held onto your every word, huddling closer to the mouth-piece of the transponder.

“I will always flirt with you, me wee Bonnie,” he confessed, swiping his hand over his hair to rid him of his tingling nerves, “Why do you think I call on Lord Dracule Mihawk so much?” You allowed several moments to contemplate his question.

“Because his swordsmanship outnumbers you and the marines one thousand to one?” You offered him weakly, your resolve as half-hearted as your soul cried it to be.

“Because I desire to hear your voice,” he confessed. Your breath hitched within your throat, your heart hanging upon each word he uttered, “You are the reason I summon him each morning, and call on this line before I sign off for the day. Just to hear the small rise in your voice, Bonnie Lass,” he continued. You could almost tangibly feel the rake of his index finger against your jaw to usher you into himself. You could feel his presence, the cologne he adorned upon his neck, jaw and wrists through each utterance. 

“Mihawk has certain skills we desire to abuse, yes. But, you,” He continued, the rasp turning breathy and slow in each drawl, “Oh, you. You are the reason I am at the end of my transponder in the wee hours of the morn, holding myself hostage to my desk at a small utterance of your voice.” His confession held you stationary against your desk, your breath refusing to dance in order to release any tone from your lips. 

“You are why I call on Mihawk so much, lass,” He continued, “Your voice makes me feel young- makes me want to be a better man.” You hung on his words like a lifeline coaxing you to shore. You slunk down onto your desk, cradling your lips within your palm to stifle your breath. 

“What I would do to such an innocent flower of Kuraigana,” his raspy rumble teetered off to verbalize his rising stutter, “I’d have you thrust against my desk, screaming my name like a prayer as I sink my teeth and lips against your sensitive flesh. The pleasure I could grant you with my lips alone would have you bound to my bedchambers with desire and longing-.”

“-Is that Garp?” The voice of Dracule Mihawk broke you away from your flush, shaking your head at each flirtatious thought pouring from his lips, “Another assignment so early?” 

“My lord,” you bowed to him, your voice breaking the vice-admiral away from his utterances of flirtatious promise, “The Vice-Admiral was only calling to offer you praise in completing your prior assignment-.”

“-That’s not all I was praising, me wee Bonnie Lass-,” Garp's voice broke you away from your concentration in relaying your verbal commands to the lord of Kuraigana.

“Is there another assignment, or shall we halt the call?” Mihawk’s verbal warning ticked at the corner of his mouth as it rose into a knowing smirk. Your startled expression allerted all Mihawk needed to know of your call, the dance of his knowing smirk threatening to break through as he claimed the shell-end of the den-den-mushi receiver from your earpiece. 

“Vice-Admiral,” Mihawk’s voice called over the mouthpiece, “The office hours are from the time the sun rises in the east blue, until its hues dance in the evening over the grand line.” Your voice hitched, the silence unbearable in the office alone with your employer. You caught the hitch of his breath, the swell in his pupils and the growl in his throat as he handed back the receiver into your hands.

“Make it quick,” He uttered, placing the shell once more within your ear, “We leave Kuraigana within the hour.” Mihawk walked away, the pointed tip of Yoru dancing at his ankles with each swell swing. You slowly drew the mouthpiece up to your lips, hanging on the silence depicted within the static. 

“Vice-Admiral?” You called to him, your voice timid and direct. Your question was met with silence on the other end, no swell of a voice, nor sneer of a whisper depicted within the earpiece of the transponder. As you drew a reluctant hand up to end the call, the raspy voice you craved swelled within the earpiece.

“I’m still here, Bonnie Lass,” it called to you. You stifled the need to stifle the flames of joy within your chest at the swell of his voice, your heart beating with an unnatural rapidity. 

“I am grateful, Vice-Admiral,” you confessed, your withheld breath leaving  you as the flutter of Mihawk’s tailcoat disappeared from view. After several moments had departed in silence, Garp’s voice called once more to you.

“It seems we are to meet face-to-face afterall,” his chuckle did very little to stifle his anxiety within, “Mihawk has granted you passage to stay within the halls of my vessel while he rids the land of the plague of piracy.” Your heartbeat elevated, swooning at the mere thought of putting a face to the name of such a powerful man. Although you spoke daily, your anxiety played a heavy part in meeting such a decorated man within the marines. 

Sucking in a heavy breath and hardening your resolve, you turned your attention back to the parchment you began to notetake upon. 

“In what capacity will we be meeting, sir?” You asked him, your voice stifling your anxiety with succession. You heard Garp suck in an anxious breath of his own, halting his racing thoughts with free words than his jumbled thoughts would allow. 

“I would have you wined and dined,” he confessed, his voice low and laden with grandiose splendor, “And while your boss concludes with the heavier business, I will look forward to spoiling you with the splendor my toils have offered me.” Your heart fluttered at the notion, before the imagery began to plague you of what ‘after’ may look like at the conclusion of your dalliance. Before you had the time to speak of such woes, your words were stolen from you at the utterances of the vice-admiral you had come to adore. 

“It is now that I may offer my apologies to you, love,”  He uttered into the mouthpiece, “I desired to not shatter the illusion we had created for each other. Believe me, Bonnie Lass. I had intended to leave you faceless in my dreams. But-,” his voice drew off into a small raspy hum, the growl of his voice perking up at the end of his last utterance, “-I had found a den-den-mushi graph of your likeness,” your anxiety began to thicken in it’s stupor, only halting at the further compliments of the man behind the call, “And I had found myself hypnotized beneath your beauty.” 

Unsure of how to feel at this utterance, you allowed a small, apprehensive giggle to depart from your lips. Sensing your uneasiness, the den-den-mushi shell on your desk began to vibrate and drone on in its print of a piece of parchment paper. 

“That is me in all my rapidly aging glory, lass. The last shot I had received from the militia,” Garp’s voice confessed. You eagerly reached for the parchment, flipping the page over to reveal his face to you. 

He was handsome. His eyes relayed a kindness and ferocity you had not encountered in your experience prior. His silvered hair, his wispy accents atop his jaw. Everything held you captive and plagued by every thought you had sent his way in the near year you had spoken with him.

After taking a moment to collect yourself, your smile returned to your lips.

“I am very much looking forward to meeting you in person, vice-admiral,” you confessed breathily, staring into the eyes of the print within your fingertips, “Wined and dined? Is that all the simplicity you offer for me, Vice-Admiral?” 

The rumbling chuckle held your attention, the peaks of your hair follicles lying at the back of your neck alerting you to danger did naught but encourage you. 

“Bonnie lass,” his rumbled voice purred into the earpiece of the receiver causing a shudder to run through your from coccyx to crown, “I would wine and dine you to your heart's content; pleasing you with many a ministration with my hands, mouth and tongue until no thoughts occur within that pretty head of yours except how good I make you feel.”

Your soul screamed, your heart heavy with the burden of desire at each utterance of his fighting words. Sucking in a sharp breath, you cradled the earpiece into your mouth as you quietly uttered to him your desiring praises.

“After all this time, you think so little of me to sit there and take what I’m given?” You challenged him, your voice purring at each of your affirmations, “Vice-Admiral,” you drew your tone down. Shepherding the earpiece against your lips to quiet your tone further, “You may wine and dine me should you truly desire it,” you rotated your neck on your shoulders, ridding it from a click located within, “But only I would make you dance between the borders of ‘so good’ and ‘too much’ before I have your writhing between my legs in a dance of absolute bliss.”

Before Garp could offer a retort to your challenge, you continued your taunt in a low tone within the mouth piece. 

“Your lips will tremble, your eyes will flutter in their daze,” you continued, "I’ll have you in every sense of the word before you’ll fall to your knees before me, offering me praise and adoration while begging for me to continue.” A rumbled shudder rolled over his spine and shoulders as he leaned into the call, focussing on your every word. 

“A-And the fact that I’m a little older?” His voice called to you, begging for you to enable him of his lust for you, “You are not perplexed nor disheartened?”

“I am intrigued, sir,” you rephrased his unspoken question, drawing out your syllables with your tongue and teeth, “And I shall take what I am given with a smile on my face.”

Several unspoken moments fell between you, neither one to break away from the illusion that perplexed you. You sucked your lips between your teeth, gnawing at them while the vice-admiral contemplated your words. A shuddered inhale revealed he was ready to inform you of his thoughts.

“I am ready to receive my orders, my lady,” he sighed, his voice riddled with anticipation and desire. You allowed yourself a moment to collect your racing thoughts to form cohesion, offering him a sensual verbal command of your own.

“I look forward to giving them and more to you, Vice-Admiral,” your smirk was depicted through the lifeline Garp held onto. Hs white-knuckled grip on the mouthpiece of the transponder and the desk below his fingertips shuddering with each passing moment he had not held you within his arms. He shuddered in a heavy breath, furrowing his brows in concentration. 

“Would you allow me the luxury of giving you a kiss?” his voice quirked up, his tone subtle and almost boyish in question. You allowed yourself a small giggle in response, leaning into the desk to grace him with an answer.

“All this talk of worship and orders, Vice-Admiral,” you laughed a huffed giggle, “It would be a shame if such lust fell to waste.” The rumbled voice of brutish confirmation held your ears lingering on every utterance of the words departing from his stubbled lips.

“Until we meet face to face, me wee Bonnie Lass,” The vice-Admiral’s voice sung to you.

“Until such a time, Vice-Admiral,” you uttered in confirmation, your vocal tone filled with youthful longing yourself.

Concluding the call with a mischievous grin, you drew your eyes up to the door of your office where Mihawk was leaning against its frame. Your smile never ceased, prompting Mihawk’s smirk to tick up his left hand corner. 

“Vice-Admiral Garp?” he asked, his brow also elevating with his grin. You shrugged, nodding in confirmation and biting back the rise of your smile. Mihawk sighed and shook his head, turning from the door and walking down the hallway.

“We will find a way to exploit this, I’m sure of it,” he called over his shoulder, “But for now, get packing. We leave in an hour.” 

You jumped to your feet, ignoring the next vibration of the den-den-mushi call in favor of following the orders of your boss. Your eagerness had you bouncing with each step, causing Mihawk to let an exasperated breath to leave his body at your youthful giddiness. 

A meeting with the Vice-Admiral, with threats and promises interwoven from his lips, had you buzzing and bobbing with each minute that ticked by. You hoped you both would live up to the hype you had created in the small pocket of the universe, no doubt in your mind that it would. 

Tag list: I am sorry about "The Garpening." He's got a hold of me, and I'm taking you lot with me. @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @feral-artistry

[kiame-sama]

Kalim is a member of the Al-Asim family, a long line of powerful Genies that have amassed wealth and renown. Kalim's father is a very powerful Genie and has high hopes/expectations for Kalim. The fact that Kalim can't grant wishes that don't end horribly is a big issue for the family, especially because Kalim is next in line to be head of the family.

Kalim has very powerful, very volatile magic that he has very little control over despite being tutored and taught how to properly use magic from a young age. Most Genies are bound by certain rules, Kalim is not. Despite not having the same rules as most Genies, he can barely use his magic to grant wishes or perform anything stronger than the most mundane spells. The only exception to this inability to control his magic is when he creates an Oasis.

Any wish Kalim grants results in death or a death-like state to the wisher as a result of their wish. A wish to be in two places at once resulted in the wisher getting ripped in half. A wish to have a nice toothsome feast resulted in the feast coming to life and eating the wisher. A wish for a peaceful rest resulted in a permanent rest the wisher will never wake from. Kalim's wishes NEVER work out for the one making the wish.

The only time Kalim's wishing magic has truly worked is the flippant wish of the Human wanting to listen to their music again. Jamil is usually the first to stop Kalim the second he hears anyone say "I wish" but it was the morning and he hadn't warmed up enough yet to respond like he usually does. Jamil expected the skull drone to explode and kill the Human, he is still stunned and vaguely afraid it hasn't happened yet.

Kalim usually has his Genie 'tail' and tends to hover/float instead of walking. He can form legs/fins/tentacles/ect to walk around like other students, but he has a preference for flying and will miss his 'tail' any time he forms his legs.

[peggyao3]

Relic - Pt. 14 "A World in a Grain of Sand"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧ A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: Third person POV, she/her AFAB FMC, explicit sexual content, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, plans within plans, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced abuse, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/ Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, murder, teaching the universe about feminism, female rage, Frank Herbert would frown, No actually he would kneel in front of me, putting the science and the porn in sci-fi, angst with a happy ending

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

A/N: Giving you the eyebrow 🤨 because no one seems to have picked up on a tiny, little, important detail that was to be found in the last chapter, or at least no one mentioned it 😌 Finally I can write what I really crave to write. IT'S SCIENCE TIME 💖

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

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Day 31

"I have one last question, little slave," Vladimir Harkonnen drones from his afloat position, a celestial body of massive dimensions in front of the somber backdrop of his throne room, black within black with only a single glow globe illuminating the back of him. He prefers to shun the black sun these days, as glorious as it may be, it brings out the myriad of spider veins beneath his frail, aged skin.

"Yes, Lord Baron?" The unremarkable slave's voice echoes from below.

"What is this… ancient piece of metal in my dear nephew's toy's room?"

"I believe you must know more about it than I do. I assume you had it examined before it was unloaded and brought inside?"

"Naturally!" Vladimir raises his voice. The slave with her bowed head can't see the way the aged Baron squints to get a clearer picture of her. Afloat as he is, she is little more than a splotch of white against black, and an unwelcomely blurry one.

The examination had revealed a human shaped mold, cushioned with gel pads, thick tubes for coolant, a recycling system with residue nutrient solution, solar panels for energy harvesting. No traces of radiation or explosives. It almost seems like the metal box is exactly what the sisterhood had made it out to be. A hibernation chamber for a fossil from another time. However, it wouldn't be the first myth created by the Bene Gesserit.

"I know you are looking for something substantial, my Lord, and so was I," the slave speaks after the Baron's elongated pause. "But I'm afraid the truth is as embarrassing as it is mundane. I've come to believe that she keeps it close out of raw sentimentality. She's a sentimental creature, that woman."

Lilia has always loved danger and the long, twisted inkvine scar on her shoulder from girlhood days is just one proof of that. Perhaps that's why she so effortlessly serves the Baron velvet lies.

"Ah-h-h, like my Feyd-Rautha then. It doesn't surprise me," the Baron drawls, lungs expanding with a raspy heaviness to each intake of air.

In all his years as Giedi Prime's sovereign, Vladimir Harkonnen has never learned that the promise of a kind embrace outweighs the threat of violence tenfold and that a spark of human goodness can sway a servant's loyalty quicker than a snap of a whip.

"She calls it her sarcophagus," Lilia adds with a tiny scoff that doesn't go unnoticed by the Baron now that he has lowered himself and sinks back into the much more comfortable seat of his throne. The intimidation tactic has fulfilled its purpose.

He bellows. "So, she's got good humor too! A pity she's not a boy. I could have borrowed her sometimes."

The obedient set of Lilia's shoulders and her lowered gaze don't betray the noxious clench that has her stomach convulsing. Perhaps this is the only advantage of being a woman in the Harkonnen palace pyramid.

Day 45

The lack of color that had once bothered her into the throes of a slowly crawling depression is now a pleasure. The blackness of her abode has come to serve as the perfect desktop for columns of text and equations, formulations and simulations and hand-written notes that have her mouth moving and her eyeballs racing.

Her sarcophagus leeches the day's sun, side panels open to give way to rotating cooling fans. The Central Processing Unit of the computer that makes up half of the machinery inside buzzes from the strain she puts on it.

Astronaut M2-84 has finally come home and picked up the work of her own, chosen destiny.

Talking to God, Mikhail had whispered to his wife, is what the Lady is doing. But what she really does is think, read, calculate. Engineers born on the cusp of the astronautic age don't have their oily hands in tool boxes. Most of the time, they tell machines how to build other machines, and to do so, one needs to understand the laws of physics. 

This is how Feyd-Rautha finds her each night. Sometimes sunken against the cushions of her bed, or slumped over her desk, staring at the wall with dancing pupils. And other times, like tonight, she sits right by her Sarcophagus, shoulder pressed against the humming metal. She claims the connection between computer and chip is quicker this way.

Silently, Feyd's stride carries him across the room towards his precious engineer. Movement catches his attention at the right and the sight he finds causes a slow tilt of his head.

One quarter of her bed is filled out by a misshapen form, tucked under duvet and whalefur. Glugo lies prone on its stomach, limbs folded tightly against its covered body. Only one front arm-leg peaks out and cradles her plushie against its innocent pug face. Something glossy-white with small handles on each side is held in front of Glugo's mouth by tiny face-hands with liquid sloshing inside.

She has tucked Glugo in like a toddler. And, from the looks of it, she has printed it a sippy cup.

Feyd-Rautha feels all sorts of warmth filling out his chest. If because he wants to be tucked in like a toddler, or because his only friend is finally receiving the gentleness it deserves, or because of a different reason entirely, he can't tell. He raises his hand to wave at Glugo who gurgles softly in return, one tiny face-hand unlatching from the cup handle to wave back.

Glug glug glug.

"You're losing weight." Feyd approaches his beloved slowly. "I don't like it."

"One second, I'm at ninety-eight point five. Seven. Ninety-nine."

"Have you found out anything interesting today, my darling?"

He is long past asking what exactly she's doing, why they aren't simply figuring out a way to get his uncle to take his shield ring off so they can get a blade between his ribs. Or rather a sword, to pierce the obscene, fatty flesh costume he calls his body.

"Your spice—" His darling slurs with a concerning jump to her pupils.

"I don't take spice anymore." Feyd tilts his head and squats down before her, lifting his hands to cup her cheeks.

"No, no, that's not what I meant. Ah, wait, what do you mean, not anymore?" Finally, her eyes regain focus and her arms fill with tension, fingers moving up to encircle Feyd-Rautha's strong wrists.

"There's my darling," he smiles with pretty, full lips and glinting teeth, stroking her cheeks. "So, what about my spice?"

"Not your spice in particular." Her hand flings out to gesture at the universe above. "Your spice shares a few molecular compounds with the medication I took to prepare for the cryo sleep." 

Feyd-Rautha's features slip into disbelief, a fresh frown carving deep into the smooth expanse of his forehead.

"Why does this surprise you?" She wonders.

"Spice is unique to Arrakis. Power over the spice means power over everything. How could you have had spice back on Earth without sandworms?"

"First of all, spice, much like anything else, is just protons, electrons and neutrons. With the right tools, you could, in theory, synthesize any molecule."

"And you have such a tool in your Sarcophagus?" 

"No! God, no." She laughs out loud and curls her arms around Feyd-Rautha's shoulders in a much needed embrace. Her very eyeballs ache and her spine feels calcified from leaning against the sarcophagus.

To him, it must seem like the solution to just about anything might be hidden in her cryo pod or in her precious chip, but it really holds only a fragment of the technological advancements of Old Earth. The last generation before mankind had embarked to the stars was an ingenious one. They had to be, and their knowledge is safely tucked into the 80 Billion terabyte hard-drive of her supercomputer. She may not have all the tools, but the knowledge to build them — in theory.

She taps the top of the cryo pod and hums. "Building molecules from scratch is not like building houses out of toy blocks. You need to accumulate tremendous amounts of energy in a lab environment to trigger complex chemical reactions."

"You've already built a chair from scratch, and a gun. And now a sippy cup for Glugo?" He states with an incredulous rasp of his voice.

"I couldn't bear seeing it drink from dog bowls anymore. And it struggled so much with cups and glasses, Lilia had to change the sheets twice because the poor thing kept spilling everything."

"You… You are fascinating, my darling." She doesn't miss the spark of arousal that lets Feyd's eyes half disappear under a fan of long lashes. "My point still stands, you've built other things before."

"Yes, but the materials were already there, I just had them pressed into the shape I desired." Feyd tilts his head and she cradles his jaw, stroking across the plushnes of his cheeks. "Were you not taught about chemistry?" Slowly, he shakes his head. "Ah, well, I will explain it to you another time then."

Feyd slides his mouth into her palm, groaning softly. "You know so much. How is it possible that you had spice 24 millenia ago?"

"Not spice. I said my pre-cryo medication shares a few interesting enzymes with spice." She slides one palm around Feyd-Rautha's nape of the neck and softly brings their foreheads together. "My people also used to think their own civilization was the pinnacle of all that has ever been. It was unthinkable that maybe the Aztecs or Sumerians were more advanced. That's how you are too. 

   You think spice is unique to Arrakis and the technological advancements you have derived from the Holtzman effect are the peak of what is achievable, because it suits you so nicely. But human evolution has never been a linear incline. You have fascinating medicine, Gholas and space travel… But who knows, maybe my people were smarter than yours. Maybe our engineers and chemists were smarter."

"You know so much," he moans again and she knows better than to keep boring him with details. One day, when the many other fires in his heart have settled, she can stoke his interest in science. Feyd is smart. He will come to be fascinated by it. 

"This universe is devouring itself because there is no innovation," she softly murmurs. "No one dares to go further, look further, break out of the pattern. Maybe they don't want to, because the consequences scare them. Mentats only do as their Lords bid…"

When Feyd's lips close in on hers, with half-lidded eyes and a dreamy stare, her ramblings subside into grateful, blissful silence, choosing to welcome his tongue in her mouth instead.

Day 59

"Silence!"

The Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam's voice ripples in the shape of a waveform pattern across the engineer's interface, recorded many decades ago by Baron Harkonnen himself and transferred to the House archive for research purposes.

Other lines of the same encounter, she is certain, were deliberately removed. Such as when the Reverend Mother, then a young woman, had ordered the Baron to hold still so she could mount him and steal the seed out of his body that would sire the Lady Jessica.

She only knows of this story because of Feyd-Rautha, and what it had cost him to learn it, she doesn't even want to know.

"Silence!"

She can only imagine that Piter de Vries' research on the matter might have consisted to a considerable amount of snide mockery, going by Feyd's recountings of the late mentat, hence why the files were so perfectly abandoned and ready for her to pick apart.

Carefully, she separates the impressive cluster of different wavelengths that make up the audio fragment, finding portions all the way from the high-frequency to the low-frequency audible spectrum, some even so low that they are no longer perceived as sound by the human ear.

The astronaut remembers how the Reverend Mother had tested her in an archaic show of deference, forced onto her knees with her hand in a box while the older woman addressed the pain receptors in her brain via an inaudible wavelength. She may not have moved her lips, but that doesn't mean she didn't cause the air molecules to oscillate.

Technically speaking, this renders the mysteriously omnipotent sisterhood into little more than ventriloquists. That image of demystification offers at least a little comfort to the humiliation provided by the memory of searing pain in every nerve.

She reclines in her chair, swallowing against the dry itch in her throat while she strings together a few fairly simple lines of code.

Curiously, the voice doesn't affect her physiology when played from an artificial source, such as the micro speaker soldered onto her chip's tiny board.

She can only assume that by manipulation of the larynx, wielders of the voice can propel pressure waves in a way that a speaker can not. How exactly this forces the human brain into submission, the engineer cannot tell, but she doesn't need to, to tinker on some offensively simple counter magic to the Bene Gesserit's seemingly almighty tool of control.

Noise cancellation is as simple as letting a speaker emit a sound wave with the same amplitude but an inverted phase. The sound waves cancel each other out in destructive interference.

As much as this scientific victory entices her, it frustrates her endlessly that all of the side research she picks up to take her mind off the real problem bears more fruit.

"Refreshments for you, my Lady!" Lilia's voice snaps her out of her brooding thoughts. The maid slips through the door, bringing a tray of fresh fruit and the stimulating citrus drink that her Lady has come to enjoy as of late. "It's been three hours, it's time to take a break."

"Ugh, three? Felt like one." That explains the dry throat. The relic arches her spine and presses her knuckles against her closed lids until tiny flashes prickle across the dark.

Lilia's footsteps close in at her side along with four other pairs of hand-feet. She sets the tray down on the desk.

"And have you made any progress today, my Lady?"

"Not with the one thing that matters, but yes." She reaches for the pitcher but finds her hands gently shooed away by Lilia who insists on pouring the glass for her, tiny bubbles fizzing in the lemon water.

"Oooh! Have you thought about these visions, my Lady?" The handmaid's ears perk up with interest, enamored with the story of how Feyd and her Lady had gotten to know each other in dreams ever since she had indulged her.

Lilia regards the phenomenon of their getting acquainted with the eyes of a romantic. For the engineer however, this is the only topic that frustrates her more than finding a workaround for the Holtzman effect to get past the Baron's shield.

"Dreams, visions, I don't fucking know. I don't even want to think about them because they drive me fucking crazy." The engineer reaches for her glass and drinks with big gulps, making the maid flinch by how forcefully she slams it back down.

The crescent shaped scar she herself had created on Feyd's clavicle when grappling for his blade is the same that had decorated his skin in their lucid dreams. So, visions? But the topics they had discussed during their shared nights are events of the past. It defies logic, it's paradox. The thing that scares her the most, however, is the fact that the Baron's abuse was still real in those dreams. If they truly were visions of the future, does that mean her research is in vain and he will live?

There is no phenomenon that can't be explained, not even prophetic dreams. But not by her, and not yet.

"Sorry," she apologizes and rubs her temples, finding Glugo staring at her with big, milky eyes, one hand-foot clinging to Lilia's skirt. The engineer's heart softens at once and she leans towards her insecure looking friend. "Aw, I'm really sorry, I didn't want to scare you both, my poor, little— Aw!"

Glugo curls four out of its eight limbs around her calves and rests its chin on her knee, pearly eyes aimed unerringly at the pitcher of sparkling drink on the desk.

"That's citrus," she explains. "I don't think you'll like citrus…"

One of the Tleilaxu creature's oily-black hand-feet clutches the table's edge, another incessantly reaches for the glass container.

"Okay, fine, but just a tiny sip. Where's your cup?"

Glugo glugs cluelessly, looking at Lilia for help. Still, both women are uncertain if the being has any grasp on human language, or if it simply recognizes a question by the inflection of one's voice. 

The handmaid locates Glugo's cup in the folds of the duvet and quickly washes out the remnants of pink liquid over the sink in the bath before filling a finger of citrus inside. The creature's hand-feet tippy-tap on the tiles, reaching for the shiny container to take its first curious gulp.

Glugo's pug face puckers into a scrunched up grimace at once, face-hands releasing the sippy cup with an indignant noise.

Glurgh!

Day 93

It is a few weeks later, while Feyd and Mikhail are out brawling, that she figures it out.

"M'lord, I really am sorry," Mikhail laments, his flesh stripped of color as the black sun roars down on his bare torso. The na-Baron and he are prowling around each other in a tight circle, unarmed aside from their fists.

"You told me already." Feyd-Rautha's grating voice cuts through the sweltering air. The training ring's roof is retracted, giving way to blazing white skies and a heat that Giedi Prime's life forms have adapted to. "Five times. Another time, and I might just cut out your tongue."

"Ya know I had to take yer Lady to them bath chambers. Baron commanded it, and I can't just—" 

"Shut up, boy!" Feyd's boots crunch in the sandy gravel, shoulders rolling. He is stronger than Mikhail, rounded arms and pectorals contrasting a powerful, slender waist. The guard's physique is more wiry, taut muscles stretched across visible ribs. The glorious sun brings out an overabundance of gray scars.

"Boy, eh? Ain't any older than you, my Lord!" Feyd is surprised, tilting his head at the deceptive edges of the guard's features that make him look closer to 40.

"Fine, then shut up, brother!" Feyd bares his teeth and clenches his fists hard, veins rippling across his forearms. "What are the rules?" 

Mikhail's fist springs forward and punches Feyd-Rautha in the guts. He nearly doubles over, groaning in pain. Spit drips from his open mouth into the sand. 

"Rules?" The guard quips and aims his elbow for the na-Baron's nose. Feyd dodges with a semi-graceful dive to the side, taking the blow to his ear instead. He tastes blood on his tongue.

This man is bold. He has no manners. Feyd likes him. 

Mikhail is smaller, thinner, but he fights like a mongrel, like someone whose ferocious survival instincts have carried him from across the svart valta all the way to the royal palace in Barony. And Feyd struggles.

And by the black sun, he loses. Few things have ever excited him so much. After nearly an hour of grappling in the scorching heat, Feyd-Rautha finds himself on his back in the gravel, panting for dear life, ears ringing from the last punch square across his jaw. He barely hears Mikhail's voice when he praises that he had fought well, but he feels the brotherly smack on his sandy chest, right on top of a wicked bruise.

Every bone and muscle burns when he drags himself to his personal bath chambers. It was, undoubtedly, the best fight of Feyd-Rautha's life.

"Lilia! I've got it! I fucking got it, do you see this?!"

Pixelated particles give way to a bullet that cuts through them like a harpoon through water.

"What, my Lady? See what?" The maid dashes into the bedroom from the antechamber with flying skirts.

"It's so simple, I'm so stupid." The relic has jumped up from the desk, fingers twisted like claws around the back of her chair while her chest heaves with laughter and a threat of tears. Lilia, of course, cannot see the baffling results of the simulation on the engineer's interface.

The Lady lurches over to the cryo pod, leaving the tilted chair swaying and falling down on the tiles with a bang. She mutters something along the lines of 'must build it', before her voice dissolves into foreign, ancient tongues and a shiver runs down Lilia's spine. Her voice so alien, her ways so enigmatic, she truly is a relic cracked open, pouring her forbidden knowledge into the world. 

But she is also a human and Lilia feels her Lady's voice and shaking body teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown as she snaps open several compartments of the sarcophagus.

"You figured it out, that's wonderful!" This barely gets the engineer's attention, so she curls her fingers around the woman's shoulder, gently forcing her away from the compartments. The relic slumps down with her back to the sarcophagus.

"I need to build it. I know there's laser diodes in there, I only need to—"

"Please, my Lady, you need to breathe deeply. Why don't you explain it to me first?" Lilia squats in front of her, holding her wrists in her warm hands. Her Lady is trembling, her breath too shallow and fast.

"It's so simple, I could build it in an hour."

"Please, do me the favor," Lilia insists and brackets the woman's trembling knees between her own. Finally, her Lady exhales a long sigh and lets her head sink against the humming metal.

"Alright," she agrees and starts with a jittery voice. "So, you're aware of what the Holtzman effect is?"

"Ah, yes, I think so?" The maid hadn't really known the term before her Lady had started rambling about it. "Shields and heighliners?"

The one discovery that has shaped the entire human universe and kept it shackled since then, and the average commoner barely even knows its name. The relic doesn't hold it against Lilia. In a world where “eat or be eaten” takes on a literal meaning, the last thing to worry about is science. So, she wills her voice into calmness. If she's going to try and explain it, she at least wants to do it well.

"The Holtzman effect is responsible for the four major technologies that have made the world into what it is today. The first one — shields. No fast-moving object can pass through a shield, so guns like these?" She points towards her nightstand. "They've been useless for millennia. That's why you've resorted to close combat weapons."

"I was wondering why you went for a gun and not a blade." Lilia tilts her head. Close combat weapons are all that she's ever personally encountered. She knows that lasguns exist and that each Great House has an arsenal of atomic warheads, but every soldier has a sword on their hip, not a gun.

"Melee weapons seem so…" The engineer struggles to find a corresponding word in Galach. "Medieval to me. Archaic. Warfare on Earth was nothing like this."

"What was it like?" Lilia whispers in awe, noticing her Lady's shaking abate second by second.

"You could obliterate entire cities within the blink of an eye. A million different ways to set a home on fire and kill a population from a thousand miles away. It was terrible." Which is why what she has discovered is just as terrible.

The relic continues. "The other three technologies derived from the Holtzman effect are suspensors, glowglobes and space travel. You know why I was in that metal coffin here?" She taps against the sarcophagus. "Because a journey within our own solar system would take several years. You however can travel to the other side of the universe within the blink of an eye, through a quantum tunnel."

Lilia has never left the planet, but to imagine trade and travel without space-folding almost strikes her as ridiculous. All of humanity, reduced to just one, single planet. The cradle of mankind. The thought humbles her.

"And all four of these are based on one single effect?" Lilia considers herself an intelligent woman, but she doubts she can understand what took her Lady weeks to figure out.

"The essence of the Holtzman effect lies in how subatomic particles interact with each other."

"Subatomic?"

"Any type of matter is made of smaller building blocks. This metal for example is made of all kinds of molecules, which are made of atoms, and every single atom is made of protons, electrons and neutrons. These are called subatomic particles. Protons and neutrons make up the nucleus of an atom, and you can imagine the electrons orbiting the nucleus almost like planets a sun."

The handmaid quite enjoys that mental image. It's like the smallest particles exist in a cosmos of their own. "So, the Holtzman effect has something to do with protons, electrons and neutrons?" Lilia imagines, if she could have gone to school like she wanted as a girl, it may have been something like this.

"Almost. It gets even smaller. Protons and neutrons are made of quarks, tiniest quantities that cannot be divided any further. I could go into more detail and talk about quantum physics," the relic pronounces a word that is just guttural enough for Lilia to imitate without all too many struggles. "But that won't be necessary for now."

Even though her Lady has stopped shaking, Lilia doesn't want to release her wrists yet. She is glued to the engineer's lips, soaking up what sounds like forbidden knowledge, like having a peek through God's microscope.

"What is a Holtzman shield made of? What do you think?" The engineer wraps her own fingers around Lilia's slender wrists and the maid sinks from squatting on her soles to sitting down on her bum, stretching out her legs on either side of her Lady's.

"I don't know, my Lady. Uh, something that repels?"

"Yes, that's right," she nods encouragingly. "There are several forces in the universe that attract and repel. The most well-known force of attraction is gravity. And electro-magnetism— Opposite poles attract, equal poles repel each other. But there are other forces that work on a subatomic level."

The engineer pauses without urging her and Lilia takes a moment to think.

"I'm guessing there's a subatomic force that keeps these, uh, nuclei together? The protons and neutrons? Because if not, everything would just be falling apart?"

It almost frightens her to imagine what her very own body must look like on its deepest level. A cluster of tiniest quantities, held together by forces as invisible as her Lady's interface.

"That's perfectly true!" The woman from Old Earth beams, fingers clenching around Lilia's wrists. "The force responsible for that is called the strong nuclear force. On an even smaller scale, the strong force holds together the quarks that make up the neutrons and protons, but you already said it just right."

Warmth fills out the handmaid's chest and she slowly begins to understand the feeling that had her Lady nearly panicking earlier. Her own heart drums against her ribs quick and hard.

"Okay, so now what about the Holtzman shield and how can you get past it?"

"For that, we also need to take the other subatomic force into consideration. It's called the weak force. Isn't that creative? Despite its name, the weak force is technically stronger than gravity, but it is only effective at very short distances and it can change one quark type into another. What do you think happens when such a change occurs?"

"Hmmm," the Harkonnen woman ponders. She doesn't want to disappoint her Lady who is putting so much effort into her explanation. "If quarks are the smallest quantities that make up anything, I suppose when something changes on the lowest level, this change translates to the highest level as well?"

"You're a natural, Lilia." Upon that, the maid blushes purple and finally releases the relic's wrist in a sudden burst of shyness. "Such a change can turn one element into another. It happens all the time, in every sun. And also in radioactive decay. This is important."

"How so?"

"Imagine if that radioactive decay was amplified. Imagine throwing a huge amount of energy at a substance that is already sporadically decaying. Imagine a whole chain reaction of it. This is what triggers a nuclear explosion, the kind that obliterates an entire city."

Lilia's eyes grow wide with understanding. "So, that's why, when you shoot a lasgun at a Holtzman shield, it triggers a nuclear explosion?"

"That's right. I believe shields are made up of nuclei and rely on both the strong and the weak force to repel incoming objects on a subatomic level."

"All of that was fascinating, but how does it help us get past the shield?" Suddenly it's us, not you. Lilia has clutched the fabric of the relic's trousers over the knees in both of her fists. What the engineer's poor Feyd-Rautha currently lacks in fascination, Lilia makes up for a hundredfold.

"Oh, that was just the prelude." The engineer's lips twist into an almost mischievous little grin. "It's just what I need to take into consideration, so I don't accidentally blow up the shield and the city instead of passing through it."

"Just the prelude? My Lady, I think I'll go insane if you don't get to the point!"

The relic bursts out laughing. "We're almost done, I promise! Imagine you're riding in a groundcar and next to you drives another one with the exact same speed. When you look at it, it seems like you're both standing still, because the relative speed between both cars is zero." Lilia nods and the engineer smiles knowingly. "Now imagine you're a bullet and you want to pass through a Holtzman shield which only allows slow-moving objects to pass."

"Then I'd need the shield particles to move in the same direction as I do, only a tad slower, so that my relative speed is like that of a slow blade."

"Congratulations, you've just figured out how to trick a Holtzman shield."

"That is absolutely genius, my Lady."

"No, it's actually so simple." The woman shakes her head. "The difficult part is how to put the shield particles into motion, but I've figured something out." She summons the pixelated particles that are only for herself to see once more, nuclei that make up a Holtzman shield, accelerated by a burst of calibrated laser light, and how they give way to a bullet that cuts through them like a harpoon through water.

"Now I only need to build a proper gun," the engineer concludes.

Lilia has never cared much about the rest of the universe, and the universe has never cared much about her. Why would she care if her Lady, who has always been good to her, sets everything on fire?

When the door to Feyd-Rautha's personal bath chamber rushes open, he knows it can only be his darling, because the scanner only recognizes her handprint when he is inside.

The na-Baron is submerged to the jaw in oily-black liquid to soothe his bruises, a diluted version, heavily scented with the essence of exotic fruit and spices. He cannot breathe the unadulterated variant without gnawing memories of horror.

Her hectic footfalls cause him to spin around in the tub with worry, but before he can even utter a greeting, he finds his woman sagging down on her knees in front of him and his face captured in her palms.

"I've found a way!" She sobs.

"You've found a way?"

Tears spill down her cheeks as she nods, bringing her forehead against his. She's found a way. To kill the Baron and destroy the universe.

She is so elated, her joy could make a star rotate, it could set the world on fire. She kisses Feyd hard on the lips, melting against the wet expanse of his chest when he embraces her in his strong arms. His muscles break into tremors just like hers had an hour ago. 

All of her doubts have flown away like comets in the sky of a fiery dawn.

"Feyd-Rautha, would you be my husband?"

To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour

— Auguries of Innocence by William Blake

A/N: Pretty much none of the physical concepts mentioned are made up. I've tried to use real physics to offer explanations for Frank Herbert's fantastical inventions that make the Dune universe so unique.

I'm not even close to the level of genius that I admire in my favorite sci-fi authors, but all of this was so insanely much fun to come up with. I have more ramblings about space travel, suspenders and glowglobes, but they weren't really necessary for this chapter. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did. I'm very proud ❤️

FEYD TAG LIST

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747

@ughdontbeboring, @meetmeatyourworst

[foone]

Alternative names for humanity along the lines of "Homo sapiens" (Wise man) and "Pan narrans" (Storytelling Chimpanzee) that I'm too lazy to look up/make up Latin for:

chef ape

throwing ape

walking ape

The idea being that we're apparently unique in the animal kingdom in that we cook our food, so we're the Chef Apes. We're also one of the best animals at throwing things: humans have more accuracy and strength when throwing stuff than other apes, by a long shot

And apparently our ability to walk slowly for ages was key to our early survival as persistence predators. We can't outrun a gazelle or mammoth or whatever, but we don't tire easily and so we can just keep following it until it runs out of stamina

Pan basipila: the baseball playing Bonobo

If only baseball had a cooking element, it would be the perfect Human Sport.

We need to devise a sport where you cook something, follow someone for a long time, and then throw it at them.

The most human thing is the surprise pie to the face

Also as much as I like Terry Pratchett's suggestion of "Pan narrans" I wouldn't be surprised if we turn out to not be the only animal that tells stories...

Elephants. I bet elephants do.

Like, there was that case where an injured elephant went to a ranger station for help. One it had never been to before, but other elephants had.

The theory being then that some other elephant had told this elephant "hey if you're hurt, go here, the humans will help"

That, combined with how they have burial rituals (some which might indicate there's an elephant religion!), and that we're working on figuring out how elephants communicate...

It wouldn't surprise me if we learn sometimes in the next decade or two that "oh yeah, elephants tell stories too. They've got FICTION."

So "Pan narrans" isn't what I'd want to bet on as our uniquely human thing.

But at the end of the day, maybe the whole idea of there being a uniquely human thing is, in itself, just another story we're telling.

So maybe it is a good fit after all.

But I especially like the idea that we're the Baseball Ape because I have this image in my head of a galactic council of aliens. Some angry alien who looks like Cthulhu had a baby with a spider has the floor, and they're ranting about "why do the Hu-mons deserve a seat?"

The Crogath are stronger, the Eldru are smarter, the Cybernetic Essense lives longer, the Dromans go farther and faster, the Moltriri have us beat in fiction and poetry, what is so special about these damn bipedal fleshbags that makes them unique in the universe?

And then WHAM. Right between the eyes. A handheld translator device, a bit bigger than a modern smartphone, beans the speaker out of nowhere.

And there's an (untranslated) yell in the chamber as the prime representative calls for order.

"WE CAN THROW, MOTHERFUCKER!"

(it takes a while to properly explain the insult. Crogathi (especially drones) don't really have mothers or sexual reproduction, so they don't really get why that would be an insult. It's finally translated as something like "bud-biter")

and it's true. even after the World Series becomes the Galactic Series, no non-human team ever manages to win.

The Eldrul Librarians almost make the cut in 2486 but accidentally piss off the ghost of Colonel Sanders and end up inheriting the Hanshin Tigers' curse.

alien textbooks describe The Colonel as some kind of human patron deity of baseball and cooked avian food, who should not be disrespected at all costs, or his vengeance from his place beyond the grave will be swift and punishing

(they're right)

"Look, we can't PROVE he was why Gemini Noctis went supernova unexpectedly, but given the protests that had happened right beforehand, and the incredible powers ascribed to the human spirits, do you really want to risk it?"

the funniest possible future: humanity gets a key place in galactic politics because we're never able to adequately convince the universe at large that our ghost stories are just that, stories, and they're terrified shitless that we'll unleash spectral torment on them

"humans? look man, living humans are a pushover. you can easily rip them in half, crack their planets with a quark bomb, their ships are little more than tin cans with a tachyon drive taped on the side. but it's not the living humans you have to worry about... it's the ghosts."

"humans are a bit like the Nontilek, with a two-stage lifespan, a grub and an adult. What you think of as "adult" humans is just their infant stage, and they only fully transform once they "die". Once fully hatched into Ghost form, their powers are almost limitless."

you want humans off a colony planet and bomb them from orbit? good luck, now you have a few million ascended humans who can pass through solid matter and can't be killed, and they will never rest until you and your descendants are gone or dead.

you don't believe me? look at this: One of their most popular stories is about them building an empire that spanned a large chunk of their little planet, then having it MURDER THEIR OWN GOD.

It only worked for a few revolutions, and he just came back, promising that one day all of them would join him in the next phase of their lifespan.

They still, to this day, thousands of orbits later, erect little statues of the means they used to execute their deity.

not even the Crogathi, who literally worship death itself, tell stories that frightening to their newly hatched grubs.

Humans are scary, man, stay away and just give them whatever they want.

the rest of the alien's education on the dangers of humans is just a selection of human movies. the sixth sense, poltergeist, ghostbusters, the shining, the devil's backbone, and, of course, field of dreams.

ghosts AND baseball? it's everything they're scared about humans all in one package!

the obvious twist you could do, of course, is simple:

the aliens are right.

humans are a two-phase species where the elder form has immense power but leaves communication and decision making to the younger form, which will be confused and angry if you acknowledge the presence of their elder-stage members among them.

this often leads to them cutting off contact or their elder-stage members causing immense damage through seeming "accidents" on the contacting vessel. This is believed to be some kind of religious prohibition that they are not able to explain.

so it's official contact protocol to pretend you cannot perceive the elder-stage humans among them, and to give them what they want to avoid possible retribution.

No means to combat elder-stage humans has yet been found, and the limits of their power is not known.

All alien captains are required to study the fate of the SS Ennolon, which contacted a lone human craft in the galactic year of 12,783. They had initiated contact and were getting along fine, until the human showed the Droman captain a picture of their "late father".

Captain Droless, accounting for the difficulty in telling humans apart, then pointed at the father sitting in a chair nearby and said "That is them, correct?".

The human looked at the chair, reacted in confusion, then anger, and asked the contacting crew to immediately leave.

It was another 400 cycles before contact could be reestablished between the Droman Federation and the Human Alliance.

the intergalactic guide describes humans as a powerful race of immortal energy beings who have the strange habit of sending their larvae out on missions around the galaxy, occasionally contacting other races, but refusing to acknowledge their elders, except in stories

they seem to frequently put their young in dangerous situations without lifting a hand to help, so this is suspected to be some sort of pilgrimage or coming-of-age ritual.

(From a twitter thread on October 1st, 2022)