#this is what i do to not study for science

[jungwnies]

f1 grid (1/2) | two string bathing suit

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri (click here for part two) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : your f1!boyfriend reacting to you showing him two strings as a bathing suit (tiktok trend - click for reference)

୨ৎ : genre : romance comedy ୨ৎ : tws : slightly suggestive ୨ৎ : word count : 2073

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : a rare wednesday post that isn't a solo story !! also i will be putting a pause on request bc my inbox is flooded, but once i have released a majority of the stories (within the next few weeks everyday there will be a new post in honor of 10k) they will open up again ty guys so much for the support <3

ʚ・max verstappen

“max,” you called from the bathroom, biting your lip to keep from laughing. “don’t freak out.”

he barely looked up from his phone. “that’s the worst way to start a sentence.”

you stepped out, deadpan. wearing… if you could even call it that… a “swimsuit” made of two threads, three knots, and maybe half a square inch of material. total. it looked like it was crocheted by a sleep-deprived spider. you posed with a straight face.

max blinked. then blinked again, slower.

“no,” he said, setting his phone down with almost religious care. “absolutely not.”

“what do you mean?” you said, fighting to keep a straight face. “it’s trendy. minimalist.”

“that’s not minimalist. that’s missing.”

you twirled, the strings shifting dangerously. “it’s high fashion.”

max stood up like he was about to perform an exorcism. “that’s not fashion. that’s barely science. you could sneeze and the whole thing would combust.”

“i think it’s cute.”

“i think it’s… illegal.”

you walked over slowly. he didn’t move, just looked absolutely offended by the garment clinging to your body with the hope and optimism of dental floss. “so… i can’t wear it on the yacht?”

he stared at you, stunned. “if you wear that on the yacht, i’m jumping into the ocean and letting nature take me.”

you burst out laughing, and he immediately buried his face in his hands. “who sold you that? who allowed this to exist?”

“i made it myself.”

his head snapped up in horror. “what.”

“yarn. patience. emotional damage.”

max grabbed the nearest towel and threw it around your shoulders like he was shielding your soul. “you need help. professional help.”

you leaned in, still grinning. “so that’s a no?”

he groaned. “i love you. but you’re grounded.”

ʚ・lewis hamilton

you stepped out slowly. wearing… well, calling it a swimsuit would be legally questionable. two strings of yarn tied together with the optimism of a third-grader’s friendship bracelet. honestly, it looked like you raided a kindergarten art bin and called it couture.

lewis lowered his sunglasses.

paused.

stared.

“be honest,” he said, slowly standing up. “did you lose a bet? or is this, like, a charity stunt i don’t know about?”

you fought to keep a straight face. “it’s my new swimsuit. do you like it?”

“do i like it?” he walked in a slow circle around you, studying it like a museum exhibit. “you look like someone gave a hamster a crochet hook and no supervision.”

“be serious.”

“oh, i am.” he waved a hand at the barely-there strings. “you’re out here dressed like a cursed macramé project.”

you pouted. “it’s artistic.”

“it’s traumatic.”

you posed dramatically. “but imagine this on the beach… champagne… sun setting…”

“yeah, and a full-blown scandal.” he crossed his arms. “you’re gonna flash everyone.”

you smirked. “so you’re saying it’s a little much?”

“i’m saying it’s one wardrobe malfunction away from me throwing my entire body over yours like a security guard.”

you grinned, stepping closer. “but you’d still let me wear it?”

he paused.

then? “yes. but only indoors. with the curtains closed. and a blanket.”

you laughed as he wrapped you up in the nearest hoodie and muttered, “i need a drink. and therapy. and maybe a glue gun.”

ʚ・george russell

you walked into the living room with the fakest innocent smile on your face and the largest box you could find on amazon. george was sitting on the couch, laptop open, looking like a ceo of something important.

“i got something for the trip,” you said sweetly.

he looked up. “that box is huge. did you order a tent?”

you beamed. “bikini.”

he blinked. “that’s not a bikini-sized box. that’s an appliance-sized box.”

you set it down and started dramatically peeling off the layers — tissue paper, unnecessary foam, even a fake ribbon — while george just watched in mild horror.

“is this an unboxing video?” he asked, deadpan. “should i film this for content? are we reviewing the manufacturer’s efficiency?”

you reached the final layer.

and pulled out the swimsuit.

or… the two lonely strings of yarn and a prayer that you were calling a swimsuit.

george stared.

and stared.

“…where’s the rest of it?” he finally asked, voice cracking ever so slightly.

“that’s it!”

he shut his laptop slowly. “that’s not it. that’s… that’s not a garment. that’s yarn.”

“it’s cute!”

“it’s nonexistent.”

you turned it around, holding it by the strings like it was a spider you weren’t sure was dead. “you don’t think it’s cute?”

he stood up like he needed to physically confront the reality of the situation. “how did you even find this? who sold it to you? did you blackmail someone? did it come with a warning label?”

“i packaged it myself.”

he blinked. “you what.”

“it’s a prank, babe.”

silence.

then, he slowly sank back onto the couch, covered his face, and mumbled, “you’re the reason i have stress dreams.”

you dropped the string bikini on his chest and smiled. “but you love me anyway.”

“i do,” he sighed. “i just… wish you loved fabric.”

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos was lying on the bed, one arm behind his head, scrolling his phone while you rifled through your suitcase.

“i got a new swimsuit for the trip,” you said casually, pulling out a folded towel to fake wrap the "swimsuit" in.

he hummed. “another one?”

you smirked. “this one’s special.”

he turned his head just in time to see you dramatically unwrap what could only be described as two strings of yarn connected by stubbornness and delusion.

carlos sat up.

paused.

blinked.

“…dios mío.”

you fought to keep a straight face. “it’s cute, right?”

he stood up slowly, like his body was moving while his brain was buffering. “that’s not a swimsuit. that’s—that’s a trap. you wear that, and i’m fighting everyone.”

you held it up by the strings. “it’s kind of artistic.”

“it’s kind of criminal.”

you twirled it once. “it’s technically wearable.”

“it’s technically two pieces of string and a death wish.”

you laughed, tossing it onto the bed. “so you’re saying you don’t want me wearing it at the hotel pool?”

“hotel pool?” he gave you an incredulous look. “you can’t even wear that in our apartment without risking emotional damage.”

“too much?”

“i’ve seen paper towels with more coverage.”

you walked over and looped your arms around his neck, grinning. “jealous?”

he rested his forehead against yours, sighing dramatically. “no. i’m concerned. for your safety. and my blood pressure.”

you leaned in close. “you’re just mad because you know i’d steal the show.”

he kissed your cheek. “i’m mad because i know i’d get arrested for public indecency by association.”

you laughed into his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around you like a man who had just stared into the abyss.

“i’m hiding that,” he muttered. “i don’t even trust you to prank me with it again.”

ʚ・charles leclerc

“charles?” you called sweetly, stepping into the hotel room with a mischievous grin and a suspicious little shopping bag.

he glanced up from the bed, where he was sitting with his ipad and airpods, one brow raised. “yes, amour?”

“i got a swimsuit for this weekend. want to see it?”

he smiled, setting the ipad aside. “of course.”

you pulled it from the bag slowly, two strings. only strings. it might have once been a swimsuit, but now? it was a scandal waiting to happen.

charles stared.

then blinked once.

then smiled. slowly.

“mon dieu…” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “is that legal?”

“technically,” you shrugged, holding it up. “there’s a front. and a back. i kind of wish it was thinner.”

he tilted his head, eyes trailing the string in your hands with the fascination of a man watching his entire moral compass short-circuit. “and you plan to wear this in public…it's already thin enough?”

“maybe. why?”

he stood, crossing the room in three slow, measured steps. “because, chérie… if you wear that outside, i will never survive it.”

you smirked. “you hate it?”

he leaned in close, lips brushing your ear. “no,” he whispered. “i want you to wear it. but only where i can see you.”

you blinked.

“put it on,” he said, voice low, fingers brushing the hem of your shirt. “let me see everything.”

you burst out laughing, hitting his chest lightly. “charles!”

he laughed too, pulling you in by the waist. “you’re evil,” he said against your neck, voice playful. “you come in here with two strings and expect me to be normal?”

“you seemed pretty into it.”

“i am,” he said shamelessly. “but mon amour… if you wear that out, i’ll have to start swinging. and i don’t want to go to jail in monaco.”

ʚ・lando norris

you stood in front of the mirror, struggling to keep a straight face as you unwrapped the tiny bag you’d stuffed the “swimsuit” into. two strings. one knot. less coverage than a shoelace.

“baaaabe,” you called sweetly. “i got a new swimsuit. wanna see?”

“yeah, sure!” lando shouted from the other room. “wait—should i come in there or—?”

you opened the door slowly, string bikini dangling from one finger like it was a precious artifact. “no need. just look.”

he turned.

froze.

squinted.

then: “what is that?!”

you fought a grin. “it’s my new bikini.”

“that’s not a bikini,” he said, already walking toward you like he needed to inspect it up close for safety reasons. “that’s—that’s a joke, right?”

you turned it around like a qvc host. “front and back. simple.”

he gaped at you. “it’s a crime scene.”

“very fashion-forward.”

“it’s barely forward! it’s not even forward-adjacent!”

you were shaking with laughter now as he waved his arms in genuine disbelief. “where did you even buy that? why did you buy that? how did they ship it? in a matchbox?!”

“i thought it’d be cute on the beach.”

he took the swimsuit carefully, like it might bite him, and held it up with two fingers. “there is more fabric in a tea bag.”

“i think you’re being dramatic.”

“i think you’re being dangerous.”

you stepped in close, resting your hands on his chest. “so you don’t want me to wear it?”

lando looked at you. then at the strings. then back at you.

“i want you to burn it.”

you grinned. “too late. i packed it.”

“i’m not letting you leave the hotel room.”

“promise?”

his jaw dropped. “you’re the worst.”

you winked. “and yet.”

he groaned into your shoulder, muttering, “i need therapy. and a one-piece. for you.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

you didn’t warn him.

you just walked into the hotel room, holding what looked like a piece of yarn with a dream. no dramatic intro, no buildup — just straight chaos.

“new swimsuit,” you said casually, tossing it onto the bed like it wasn’t about to destroy him.

oscar turned from his laptop, expression as flat and unreadable as always… until he saw it.

he stared.

blink.

longer stare.

“…that’s it?”

“that’s it.”

he sat back in the chair slowly, arms crossed. “that’s not a swimsuit.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you don’t like it?”

he took a very long pause. processing. buffering. internally screaming.

“i… don’t disapprove,” he said finally, choosing his words like they were part of a hostage negotiation. “but… i’m trying to understand where the rest of it went.”

you held it up by a single string. “it’s trendy. daring. very… cute.”

“it’s barely thread.”

you grinned. “so you do disapprove.”

he didn’t answer right away, just tilted his head, looking you up and down like he was trying to calculate structural integrity. “…if it makes you happy to wear that, then it’s fine.”

you squinted. “but you’re dying inside.”

he blinked. “a little.”

you walked closer, draping the swimsuit over his shoulder like a sash. “you don’t think i’d look hot?”

“that’s not the issue,” he said immediately, not even blinking. “the issue is physics.”

you burst out laughing, and that finally cracked a smile from him — soft, a little resigned, but full of affection.

“i trust you,” he added, voice quiet but firm. “i just… don’t trust gravity. or wind. or humanity.”

you kissed his cheek. “so private pool only?”

he nodded. “preferably with no windows.”

you leaned back, watching him eye the bikini like it was a cursed relic. “you’re kind of obsessed with me.”

he smiled again, this time without hesitation. “obviously.”

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[liliesformingi]

"much love, laufey" - a mini series by @liliesformingi. view series masterlist, and outline here.

3. 'valentine' - yunho x reader “i tell him he's pretty too, can i say that?”

author's note: bring me 900 million jeong yunhos right now.

People raised their eyebrows at you for rooming with a guy. “And you don’t have feelings for him?” they’d ask, over and over.

But Yunho wasn’t just a guy, he was your friend. Supportive, protective, kind. He was a comfortable presence, something familiar.

Yunho was studying sports science and physiology at university, but also wrote lyrics on the side. You knew he loved physiology and understanding the human body, but music was what he truly loved, what he spent ungodly hours working at and obsessing over.  But it’s not stable enough, he’d sigh, stretching his arms before returning to the essay on human development he’d been procrastinating for the past week.

You were studying psychology, but also took art history classes on the side. Yunho knew art was something you desperately wanted to pursue, but it was the same as it was for him. You took the smart route. Not necessarily the easy one, or the one you liked. You did what you needed to, securing your futures.

Both of you were scared of risking something, messing stuff up.

He’d bring you an iced coffee when he knew you’d forgotten to drink one while studying.

You’d make his preworkout for him to take before he went to the gym.

He’d go out and buy things for you when it was that time of month and you couldn’t get out of bed.

You’d blow dry his hair late at night when he was too tired to do it himself, insisting he’d get sick if he went to bed with damp hair.

He’d comfort you after each failed date, after each guy ghosted you or simply told you “You’re not what I want.”

Basically, you two were cosy.

It had been a quiet day. Both of you had upcoming exams, not for another few weeks, but close enough that it felt real, and both of you had fears of not doing enough. So if that meant going through notes for hours and revising on the sofa while he sat at the dining table, tapping his pen along to whatever he was listening to with his headphones while occasionally annotating a diagram, so be it.

Eventually, you were bored, hungry and worn out. 

Yunho had dark circles under his eyes, and you were struggling to retain your gaze on the harsh light of your laptop, but both of you refused to give up. Until you checked your phone and realised it was 3pm, and you were yet to have lunch, let alone breakfast.

“Oh, shit,” you mumbled, standing up and stretching before you made your way into the kitchen. You automatically pulled out two bowls and ripped open a packet of yours and his favourite ramen, setting the water to boil while you chopped vegetables and stirred the soup. 

You set the steaming bowl in front of him along with a pair of chopsticks and a spoon. He looked up gratefully, taking his headphones off and shoving his work aside. “Thank you, angel, I’m sorry, I could’ve made myself something-”

“Don’t worry, Yun, it’s fine,” you sat down opposite him, beginning to eat your food. You slurped noodles and yawned, occasionally exchanging the odd comment about work or school. You asked him about his music projects he was working on, and he started off on a vivid explanation about this amazing website of free music samples he’d found. You watched him happily, resting your chin in your hands.

“Sorry, I’ve been talking for a while,” Yunho chuckled. “How’s stuff with you? Got a psych exam coming up, yeah?”

“Mhmm. I just . . . my head’s in it, but my heart kinda isn’t. And it’s a lot of work. I’m tired all the time,” you yawned and stretched. “And my shoulders hurt like hell from sitting so awkwardly for hours.”

Yunho tilted his head a little. “C’mere.”

You stood up and winced slightly, waddling over towards him. He stood up, gesturing for you to sit in his place. You sat down, rolling your neck. He started pressing his hands into your shoulders, upper arms and neck; each movement releasing the pent up tension and stress from your body.

“Feel a bit better?”

“Mm, feels nice, Yun,” you sighed, leaning your head back and looking up at him.

Yunho didn’t know what came over him in that moment. Hands still resting on your shoulders, he leant down, and kissed your forehead.

You gasped a little, body startling. “Yunho, what the fuck?”

“I’m so sorry,” he gasped, immediately redacting his hands from your shoulders. “I don’t know why the hell I did that. Actually, no, I do know, and that’s the problem.”

“Yun-”

“No, let me talk. Please. I like you. Not even like, maybe love, I don’t know. And it hurts, knowing you probably don’t feel the same way and it hurts seeing you go on those dates and get hurt. It hurts seeing you hurt yourself by overwhelming yourself with schoolwork. So maybe I should just go. Maybe that would help.”

“Yunho, shut up.”

He looked a little hurt at that, raising an eyebrow.

“Let me talk,” you replied, eyes sparkling and cheeks a little pink. “I like you too, maybe love. I don’t know either. You just . . . surprised me. But I want you . . . I want you to do that again. But not on the forehead. On the lips. Do it properly, please.”

Yunho walked back over, leaning down and placing a hand on your cheek.

“That I can do,” he smiled.

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[windixie]

500 days of you ── .✦ spiderman! gojo x reader ch. 1

pairing . academic rivals spiderman! gojo x reader

summary ⊹ ࣪ ˖ being at the top of your class for the past few years has not been a problem for you at all, that is until he transfers in, stealing away your spot with his genius intellect and annoyingly good 4.5 gpa, better than your 4.0, all while wearing that stupid grin you just want to punch off. what's worse is he also happens to be the cities hero, in who you fall in love with, unknowing to who was under the blue mask.

warnings ˎˊ˗ college au, academic rivals to lovers, eventual smut, gojo is a pervert, panty

stealing, dry humping, a bit of angst, hurt/comfort, sexual harassment, toxic relationship with family, unhealthy diet, fluff, set in new york like any other spiderman, female reader, p in v, oral, reader is a virgin, violence, gojo is full of himself, webs used.. inappropriately.

playlist ⟢ 500 days of you

wc . 5.4k

a/n . yes the title is based on 500 days of summer i was watching it while writing ..

500 days is all you have left until you graduate. according to your calendar that you have self made, placed neatly beside your bed so you could cross each day as it passes with your pink highlighter, you have exactly two years. today, december 20, marks your first day of long awaited winter break in which you desperately needed after enduring what you believe was the worlds hardest final exam for your humanized and social science class.

your roommate has decided to take this time to go visit her family back at her hometown, to spend a few days with her family wrapped in a comforting warm and cozy atmosphere alongside whatever her family provides. but you chose to stay behind, not that you had anymore exams to finish up or anything, but because going back to see your family, if you could even call them one, wasn't even an option. your relationship with them wasn't abusive or anything, just strained, always putting your brother's needs before yours. that's part why you picked the farthest college you could away from them, an entire different timezone.

you wouldn't call it running away, because that implies fear, you'd just call it more of a extraction. a nice and peaceful separation. sure, they reach out once in a while, but you always come up with excuses on the spot to end the call early. they barely knew that much about you, hell, they didn't even know which college you were going to even your plan in majoring in physics until a month before you left.

nyu is a beautiful campus, not traditional in any way, it bleeds right into the city. any spot there would be perfect to study, and well you didn't have anything to do for the next two weeks so a little studying before the next semester even starts. so with that you made your way over to your locker which was a brief fifteen minute walk away from your dorm.

you don't mind the walk, no rush, no crowds. the usual buzz of students chirping has died down. its not a eerily type of quiet, its peaceful. the faint sound of your footsteps echoed throughout the almost empty hallway. reaching your neatly decorated locker, you opened it unaware of the person right next to you, the door swung right into them.

"shit-"

your eyes widened as you saw the persons books fall right out their hands.

"oh my god im so sorry! I didn't see you there!" you immediately crouched down to pick of the several textbooks, most of them being physics for semester two. it wouldn't be a surprise if the owner of these books would be in the same class as you. "its alright" the mysterious person chuckled as they took away the books from your hands.

your eyes widened as they landed on them. or him, actually. he had beautiful bright blue eyes that for sure held every secret of the ocean, and snowy white hair that resembled the snow that was falling right outside. you couldn't even get a word out.

"im Satoru." he said, waiting for you to give your name to him.

"right.. right. I mean- im y/n." you stumbled across your words. he gave you a crooked smile, almost naturally as he saw you stutter. his hands now itched onto his heavy physics books, tilting his head as he studied you. "you have any idea where mr. thompson's class is?" his smooth voice asked. mr. thompson. thats the name of your physics teacher.

"yeah! yeah he's my physics teacher!" that came out a bit more excited than you intended it to. "yeah? mind being an angel and leading me to it?"

you laughed softly, hoping the light pink tint on your cheeks weren't noticed by him. oh but they were. the awkward tension melted right away. "of course."

he didn't mind the blush, and the way his smile widened told you that he definitely noticed your blushing, but he didn't say anything about it, instead allowing you to show him the way around the campus. he fell into step beside you recalling how you as well had this course. "so.." he broke the silence, "you actually understand physics are you just one of those people who pretend to know what you're doing?"

you shook your head laughing a bit as your gaze fell down to your shoes against the pavement. "no, no I understand. im majoring in it so I kind of have to. but it honestly depends on the day, sometimes I feel like the textbook is gaslighting me" now it was his turn to let out a laugh. and it sounded genuine. "thats great. back at my old uni, people were only there for the credits or whatever. no one was really as passionate as I am." you gaze shifted to him. "oh, which school did you transfer from?"

"colombia university."

"is the lack of people taking physics seriously the reason for your transfer?" you asked half jokingly, but you wouldn't be surprised if that actually was the reason, you knew some people like that.

he sucked in a soft breath, eyes flickering from your figure to look forward. "no I just.. wanted a different environment I guess." there was a bit of hesitation in his voice, but you didn't push it. after all you just met this boy not even five minutes ago. you both finally reached mr. thompson's classroom, his door slightly ajar. "he should be in here.. he always is., im convinced he lives in there"

he hummed looking into the classroom, catching a glimpse of the bald headed man hunched over a stack of papers before looking down at you. "thank you, y/n. I hope we see each other in uh two weeks?" the way he said your name sent your butterflies on a rollercoaster.

"yeah.. yeah I hope so too." you said quietly which earned a sweet smile from him before he walked in to talk about whatever he needed to with the professor. with one final look at the door you turned, only to remember you didn't even grab your books, let alone close your locker which was the whole point you came out of your dorm. you quickly rushed back with the thought of the new student lingering in the back of your mind.

── .✦

in the blink of an eye, the break was over, and the dreadful second semester rolled right around the corner. the traumatizing sound of your alarm that was set at 7 on the dot woke you up for your 9 am physics class, slicing through the silence and especially your slumber.

you groaned, clicking repeatedly at your phone to shut the ear piercing sound off. for a second, you considered skipping. but you knew mr. thompson doesn't play no games, and neither did that syllabus. so you dragged yourself out of your bed, limbs heavy, and mind still foggy as you began to miss the warmth provided by your bed. the sky outside was still that dusty gray, soft flakes falling right out of it.

after making yourself a cup of coffee, you brushed out your hair to be somewhat socially acceptable. you were the top student of the school either way, you had to be presentable at all times. you threw on a jacket and a cute pair of pants before making your way out of your dorm, holding envy for your roommate for not having a morning class.

by the time you reached the lecture hall, well your body because your soul was still trapped in between your blankets, you noticed that you werent there first one there like always. your eyes landed on him.

satoru.

he was seated right there at the front of the class, his posture was excellent, back straight, shoulders relaxed, giving you another reason to like about him. his eyes were trained on his phone, with his earbuds blasting whatever he was listening to in his ears. but they shifted as you walked in, and when your eyes met, a soft smile appeared on his pink tinted lips making your chest feel just a little too full.

maybe the second semester didn't seem so dreadful at all.

"hey.." he took out an earbud out of his ear as you approached, sliding in the seat right next to him. "hi" you replied, placing your bag next to you. "glad we're in this class together. haven't really met anyone else since we talked."

"that so? not even your roommate?" you unconsciously fixed your hair to try and maybe woo him with your beauty. "oh actually i'm living in an apartment" your hand stopped playing with your hair.

"an apartment? in New York? the school is already bleeding us dry.. what are you, rich or something?"

that earned a chuckle from him, a quiet one that made your stomach flip. "yeah.. sure." he had a grin on his face, making you question if it was a joke or not. you both watched as more seats filled up with new and old students. but everyone was eventually startled when mr. thomspon walked in and slammed a textbook onto his desk.

"well I'd like to say im disappointed from last semesters final exam results." he began, a hint of amusement in his voice, "but id be lying."

a beat of silence.

"im proud to say that everyone passed." a relieved sigh escaped almost everyones mouths, echoing across the room. "and of course, ms. l/n, miss goody two shoes," you placed a hand on your chest in mock offense making satoru sniffle a laugh next to you. "you got the highest mark, like every year." he grumbled. "im starting to think you're just here to make everyone else feel bad about their grades."

"only slightly." you muttered under your breath, loud enough for satoru to hear. he turned a bit towards you. "lets see how long you stay up there, miss top of the class, until I snatch your spot."

you stared at him while he turned back to face the front. he was just joking right? I mean no one could steal away your spot. no one has for the past two years, and no one will. right?

── .✦

oh but you were wrong. oh so so so wrong.

this boy wasn't your new friend. he was your rival, like his whole existence was to take away everything you've worked hard for. he wasn't your soon to be charming lab partner or the cute guy you'd hang out with at a local cafe after class.

he was your academic nemesis.

it didn't hit you right away. not until the first quiz given to the class was passed back in which you got a 97% on. but once you saw a fucking 100% on satoru's paper circled in a horrid red ink, thats when it hit you. and the cherry on top was when mr. thompson grinned and leaned down to whisper, "looks like you've got competition." you stared at satoru like he had just murdered your family, not that you minded, but in a way he murdered your entire existence.

he looked at the paper, like he didn't even care that he passed, because to him this was normal. he caught your expression and was confused to see that the usual soft look on your pretty face was now replaced with pure wrath.

this wasn't just 480 days of school anymore.

this was war.

every time you raised your hand to answer a question, it was always outshined by satorus. damn him and his longer limbs. and every time, the professor would call on him.

every. single. time.

you even considered this being sexist. then satoru would answer correctly, of course. damn mr. thompson for finding this whole rivalry hilarious. like if your whole identity as "the smart one" wasn't practically being lit on fire in front of everyone right now. you felt the shift, and you heard the whispers of you being out throned. and what made this whole situation worse was that stupid charm that he offered you with, "im glad to be in physics with you." a lie.

a damn lie.

and you couldn't help but hate him for it every day, every higher mark, every time he got called on, and every time he smiled at you in the mornings or in the hallways thinking you two were still friends.

it didn't help that everyone practically loved him. girls slipped their numbers to him every other day, even undergraduates which you found disgusting. he did everything so effortless while you stayed up until 2 am re-reading lessons, burning through notebooks, killing your pens, and even pulling all nighters like kay chung for important upcoming exams, mistreating your body with more caffeine than you could handle to try and claw your way back up the top.

until eventually you burnt out.

you ignored every 'hello' coming from him or any stupid joke he'd come up with, you settled on a different seat away from him not having the guts to stare at him be better than you for another second. not while he thrived and you crumbled.

and it was like you were back at home, always being seen as the second option right after your brother. a man. of course the second you feel like you are finally worthy of something, someone has to take it away from you. but why now? why after two years in which you spent trying to escape that feeling, was everything going downhill? you weren't even sure if he was even aware of the harm he was causing you mentally and physically.

that he was undoing you without even trying.

but he did notice. he noticed how you stopped talking to him, saying hello or laughing at his jokes or even avoiding his gaze like if it would burn your eyes if you made eye contact, and it hurt because you were practically his only friend other than a boy he met in his calculus class. suguru geto, aka his 'man in the chair.' he always alarmed satoru discreetly whenever there was a bank robbery happening down the street. because not only was satoru now holding the title of the top student of nyu, but he was also the hero of manhattan.

"spiderman makes an unwanted appearance again last night," the news reporter said with her voice being more sharper than the bold lettering on the headline scrolling beneath her, "at a secluded alley near the 'sunny time up' bar, involving a man attempting to steal one of the employee's vehicle."

click.

"when will this vigilante wake up and realize that this job is for law enforcement"

click.

"he's a danger to the people of manhattan! this isn't a comic book, he's interfering with police work!"

every time you clicked on the remote to change channels, spiderman was everywhere. for someone the people claim to hate, he sure is the talk of the week.

"dude is like time square on new years.." you mumbled mostly to yourself.

"my father hates him." your roommate, wendy's father is the head of the police department. he's always complaining about he boy who hides away behind the blue mask, claiming that he is causing more trouble in the busy city. you gave a dry laugh. "your father hates everyone, including me" she sat on your bed next to you, holding a bag of chips in her hand which she offered you.

"I dont see why it's such a big deal. he does more than the police has done in the past five years. he's like what? our age? from what I have heard he is definitely not beyond his twenties." you stared at the video of him swinging across buildings, the sharp blue color of his suit making it hard to lose sight of him.

the color reminded you of satoru's eyes.

your mood suddenly shifted as you thought of him, your appetite was long gone as your stomach twisted in disgust. "how are you holding up with the whole academic rivalry thing."

"shut up." you grumbled.

"I feel like it's one sided, well from what i've heard from you." wendy's voice was quiet, but her words stung. because deep down, you have told yourself the same thing.

"its like he doesn't even try." you dragged your hand across your face as you stared at the textbooks on your desk before they shifted to the calendar right above it. 455 more days.

454 more days.

453 more days.

452 more days.

451 more days.

450 more days.

another school week has passed by. another week of avoiding his intense stare across the lecture hall. another week of hearing him laugh with that black haired boy that had way too many piercings on his face. another week of debating if anything was even worth it anymore.

you looked back up to your calendar, staring at that number written beneath the date. 450 more days until graduation! you got this! how many more days until everything will stop feeling so heavy.

how many more until you stopped caring.

but its like you couldn't even catch a break. your negative thoughts were interrupted by the vibration of your phone. you slowly dragged it out your back pocket before looking down at the called id.

mom.

you couldn't answer. not with your voice cracking or tears falling. you couldn't let them know that you were struggling the same way you were all your childhood and you especially couldn't give them that sense of pride in the way you were burning out. how could you tell them the pressure didn't go away but it only shifted from different mouths in different places. you couldn't handle hearing, "I told you so."

'just stay in state, I dont see why you have to move all the way to the other side of the world. you won't be able to handle it like your brother.'

'your brother stayed here in the same state, why can't you do the same? he visits us regularly!..'

shaking away the echoes of your parents voices, you watched the slow rise and fall of wendy's chest, and you quietly zipped up your jacket before sneaking out. fresh air was what you needed right now. it hit you like a reset button- the kind that clears your head. not caring where your feet took you, you made your way through the city.

the night was still alive, buildings lit up, parties at every corner you looked at, and other people walking as well. it did feel refreshing. until you heard it. a sharp, disgusting wolf whistle behind you. it was low and mocking. the city is big, its bound to have horrible beings. your steps didn't stop, your stomach twisted and you felt sick.

"hey where are you goin' sweetheart? you look delicious." the slurred voice behind you said. you didn't even have to look back to know what kind of man it was. your pace quickened, trying to reach a store or anything that had some sort of crowd. but the footsteps behind you didn't stop, they matched your speed and quickened.

this was exactly what your brother warned you about. being in such. huge city will only be more dangerous. you felt your throat drying up and you looked down at your shadows, seeing the mans hand reach for you. but before even his fingers could brush against you, a blur of blue and white appeared. there was a soft thud, a groan, then silence.

you slowly turned.

"hey," spiderman said calmly shooting a web right on the strangers face. "she's not interested." the man stumbled back, letting out a muffled yelp, fear overthrowing whatever he was on. he didn't even budge. your heart was still racing as you took in his muscular figure. and then he turned to face you. ".. now what are you doing outside at night, hm?" his voice shifted into a much softer one, like he was talking to a kid. you wanted to talk but you couldn't get a word out as you felt the heaviness in your throat as well as the weight you've been carrying from the past few months.

the way he stood was so familiar. "im sorry.." is all you could get out, you soft voice quivered which immediately sent his senses off. "hey, hey its alright why are you apologizing?" his large hands cupped your cheeks. despite them being gloved, they were warm and comforting. his thumbs swept under your eyes wiping away any incoming tears. "why are you apologizing?"

"I dont know.." you answered honestly. but the ache of not being enough was resurfacing. he let out a quiet breath at your answer. "thats okay.. you dont have to explain." his hands didn't move away from your face, in fact you found yourself leaning into his touch.

"let me take you home." he whispered. "..I live at the nyu dorms"

he nodded before dropping his hands to grab the back of your knees without any warning, picking you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. "hold on baby, okay?" your tired mind couldn't even process the pet name before allowing your arms to wrap around his neck, placing your head in the crook of it as well.

without another word, he laughed upward, shooting a web into the sky. the loud roaring of the wind as you both swung across building from building deafened your ears. gravity tugged at your stomach with every sharp dip and rise. you unknowingly shook in his hold, the hand that was holding you rubbed your back before settling to cupping the side of your thigh, dangerously close to your ass. "its okay, I got you."

his hand and feet stuck to the side of the dormitory building. "which dorm is yours angel?"

angel

that pet name reminded you of satoru. why is it that the smallest things reminded you of him? why does your mind insist in continuing to think about him. "... that one." you pointed to the window just two floors up and to the side, in which he crawled to, tightening his hold your plush thigh. he carefully slid the window open, crawling in.

"we're here.." he could barely get out before the soft click of a lamp lit up the room, revealing wendy who was staring at the both of you, holding onto each other rather intimately. your arms were still wrapped around his neck while his leg was pressed right in between yours, in the middle of placing you down.

your eyes widened as you stared back at wendy. "you're awake.." you whispered.

"you're with spiderman.." she stated the obvious. you and him were quiet, the silence louder than you wanted it to as you backed away from him. "I wake up to see you missing, assuming you probably went out to party, only to see you grinding on spider mans leg? oh my dad would hate you even more right now" the masked vigilante cleared his throat, his hand was still placed on your waist, not wanting to completely let go of you yet.

"I should.. get going." he murmured, before looking at you, not wendy. and behind the mask, you swore that for whatever reason he didn't want to leave.

"oh.. yeah uhm thank you, have I thanked you yet? whatever just.. thanks for everything." you stammered, scratching the back of your neck. with one final lingering squeeze on your waist, he pulled away. "any time." he then turned back to wendy. "can you tell your dad to stop trying to tase me?"

"nope." she furrowed her eyebrows.

"..worth a shot. take good care of your friend for me yeah?" he asked before leaving through the window, allowing the city to take him back. wendy's head sharply turned to look at you.

"what..?"

she blinked, once and twice and thrice. "you've got a lot of explaining to do." she grinned.

── .✦

"you just come back from patrolling?" suguru asked as his fingers moved quickly on his controller letting out a few curse words when his opponent did damage on him. "yeah.." satoru closed the window behind him, tugging off his mask letting his white locks spread out, making him look like a model. he threw it on his bed, making his was deeper into his apartment. "you can't just use my pc whenever you want to man." he grumbled as he watched suguru get a victory royale.

"hey, if im helping you out on your little 'hero' shit, I can play whenever the hell I want."

satoru undressed, pulling up some grey sweatpants, but staying shirtless. scars adorned his torso and chest. "guess who I ran into."

"uhh that crazy police guy that tried tasing you."

satoru shivered at the memory. "no thank god. it was y/n." suguru clicked off the game turning his full attention to his friend. "the chick you like?" the blue eyed boy nodded. "saved her from some drunk shit, took everything in me not to kill that bastard after seeing her cry."

"what happened then?"

"took her back to her dorm.. met her roommate as well. turns out she's the daughter of the head of the police department. anyways, y/n looks horrible.. like there's something going on with her."

"yeah its you. you stole away her spot of top student." suguru reminded him. "I didn't mean to!" satoru defended himself.

"her friend for sure is going to spread around the fact that she saw y/n with spiderman. talk to her about it." satoru thought about it. if he asked you if everything was okay with you after last night, maybe you'll start talking to him again.

one thing about wendy is that she can't keep anything to herself. suguru was right, your encounter with spiderman spread like wildfire. like full blown social media wildfire. your name was brought up in multiple group chats, tweets, even those dumb confession accounts on instagram.

"SPIDERMANS GOT A GIRLFRIEND LMFAOOO"

"yall hear y/n slept with spiderman?"

"what do they call baby spiders?"

you were speeding past everyone, heart racing like you were in a heist movie making your way to your next class before you were stopped. "hey.." the familiar voice cut through the air. satoru. "heard what happened last night.. everything okay?" he asked, noticing how thin your wrists were.

was this another one of his acts? "yeah.." you mumbled. "everything fine." you tried brushing it off but he wasn't having it. he raised an eyebrow before his hand placed right on your waist, the same spot spider mans hand was on. "talk to me. you ghosted me weeks ago.. did I say something or do something?"

dont act so innocent, you thought. of course he did something. "physics is just,, stressing me out I guess." which was partially true. his eyes travelled down your face, looking at your lips before his tongue darted out to lick his. "let me help you then."

despite the hatred you held for your rival, you missed him. sure you only talked a few times, but you missed talking to him, his dumb jokes and his dorky smile. "..okay" you agreed. "maybe later this week." and for the first time in what felt like forever, your chest felt light.

── .✦

your classes were finally over. with your bag placed over your shoulder, you made your way outside after deciding to pick up some sweet treats for both you and wendy, who you were still kind of annoyed at for spreading around your encounter with spiderman. you reached the warm welcoming bakery, picking out whatever looked delicious, chocolate cover croissants, blueberry muffins, and a few cream puffs before making your way to check out. the second you stepped out, the rain decided to make an appearance. one that you weren't prepared for.

you clutched onto the bag full of treats.

"you again?" the voice came from above you. you looked up, moving your dripping wet hair to get a closer look. there he was, perched upside down from a streetlight. "..here to save me from the rain?" you asked half jokingly. he hummed, flipping down to land right in front of you. "of course baby. wouldn't want you to get sick.."

his arms wrapped around your waist before shooting a web straight up the roof of the bakery, pulling you both off the ground. you let out a little yelp holding onto both him and the pastry bag. seconds later you both were outside the window of your dorm, before he effortlessly opened it up placing you on your bed. your shirt rose up a little exposing your cute little spiderman boxers.

"is that me?" he asked tracing the waistband that had his heroine name in bold letters. your breath hitched. you completely forgot about those, or even buying them let alone wearing them today. both you and wendy went shopping a couple days back, going into the kids section and jokingly buying each a pair of spiderman undies.

'hey you should wear these to thank him.' she snorted

'eat shit.'

your hand shot out to push his away, chuckling nervously. "okay thats enough.." but he was faster, he grabbed your wrist forcing it to be on your mattress before his other gloved hand tugged up his mask enough to expose his mouth. his jawline was sharp, and those pink lips.. your eyes widened as you looked up at him. "ah.. spiderman?" he brought said hand up to his mouth, his teeth pulling off his glove before spitting it out somewhere else.

"nah.. let me see this." he pulled up your shirt, showing off your midriff, as well as pulling your pants down to your knees. "mm yeah thats me alright.." you felt your heart pounding in your ears. his tongue darted out to lick your stomach.

"spider-man..!" you gasped. he looked up at you, wanting to savor this moment. as if he wanted to memorize this exact version of you.

"never thought I'd be someones fashion statement." he moaned as he saw the wet patch starting to form. his thumb placed itself right on it. "this alright..?" he wanted you bad, but he also wanted you to be okay with this. you nodded looking up at him with a look that just drove him crazy.

his rubbing continued before he pulled away pulling down just the lower half of his suit. "its hard as hell to hide my dick in this shit." he grumbled.

oh.

oh.

he was huge. like really, really big and heavy, it couldn't even stand up correctly. he fisted his cock a few times, watching his pre- cum ooze out before placing it right on your clothed cunt. you wrapped your legs around his torso, bringing him closer in. "thats it." he groaned slowly rocking into you. your body shook with every hump of his hips, the wet patch in your spidey briefs grew bigger. his hands traveled throughout your body, hot and rough as two fingers found their way into your mouth, forcing you to lick them. "good girl, get them nice and wet for me baby."

his voice was low and dripping with arousal. he brought his head closer to your face. you whimpered softly as your hands tugged at his suit, your legs that were still wrapped around him trembled. "wearing these and you expect me not to ruin you?" he moaned as he dipped a finger into the pouch that every boxer had, feeling how much you wanted him. the two fingers that were toying with your tongue left with a loud pop before his lips found yours in a sweet but messy kiss.

just before he could release his hot seed onto you, there was a knock at the door.

"y/nnnn! let me in I forgot my keys!" damn wendy. spiderman sighed pecking your lips one more time before he pulled back, sliding down his mask. he reached for the glove he threw away as well as his lower part of his suit. "ill be taking these as well.." he murmured ripping off your briefs, which had you cringing at the sound, exposing your cunt to the cold air. "ill see you around okay, darling? thank you for this, such an angel."

and with that he left. leaving you with no release and nothing covering your lower half.

"y/n!" wendy knocked again.

"coming!"

oh you wish you were.

ending note . hope you all enjoyed chapter 1 !!

[typewritingyip]

The Arcturus Missions

Part Forty - Layers

Part Thirty Nine

———

Kaiju, definition - a giant monster of a type featured in Japanese fantasy and science fiction movies, television, and novels. It is essentially a Japanese term that is commonly associated with media involving giant monsters. 

The term became commonplace when the attacks started in 1984, initially becoming the replacement term for the Japanese media as they described what was happening in the pacific. It later would bleed into western media, as to avoid the term alien and cause greater panic. 

A foreign enemy from space, these Kaiju would cause around a billion deaths in the first thirty years of the war, and still remain mostly a mystery.

To those familiar with the Quintesson (Kaiju’s for Earth’s naming practice) it would become painfully obvious that a majority of the Quintessons that have gone to and attacked Earth are low level scout soldiers. All similar in design with the simple purpose of obtaining materials for study, whether those be organic in nature or otherwise. 

Causing damage and death are hardly limiting factors in their function, their needs outway those of any other planet, society, or species. 

It’s exactly why they have maintained the fight going on for thirty years, there is not anything that will stand in their way of their goals and the things that do stand in their way are certainly worth studying. Or destroying. 

—

A nearby speaker squawked out something that sounded vaguely like Catalina, just as Jazz’s foot collided with it, “Sorry.” Hound cracked a bit of a smile, the rubble was disheartening enough without the speakers struggling. 

Hound was still holding Mirage up and only takes one glance at him before looking around, “Right, I need my pilots and then for the rest of you to fuck off for some cover, I mean no offense but you’re all a lot more hurt than would be useful right now.” Optimus sort of stared, glancing at the pilots.

They didn’t look to be in any better of a state then the Cybertronian’s, but looks were deceiving with them, “Alright,” Hound nodded slightly, “Prowl, if you could contact the closest unit to our location and try to get some backup, it would be appreciated. Especially any seekers.” Prowl nodded slightly, though his hold on Jazz didn’t let up.

Looking around, Hound takes a breath, “You guys feel alright to get to some cover?” Knockout glanced up to Optimus, “I’ll need help moving Megatron and I think someone will have to help Mirage.” With a nod, Bluestreak moves over, “I’ll help Mirage, we can go to the under-layer for some cover.” Hound carefully helps Mirage to Bluestreak, but grabs the front of Bluestreak’s plating and holds him close for a second.

Turning off the translator, “If he comes back to me with any more damage than he currently has, I will be pissed.” Bluestreak’s optics cycle once with confusion, but Hound levels a look at Prowl who nods slowly. 

He turns the translator back on and looks around, “Well, are you going to stand around or get out of here?” Slowly, the cybertronian’s left and Hound looked around at the pilots, “You all alright for this fight? If not, follow them.” He gestures loosely towards the Cybertronian’s.

Sunstreaker had left his arm in Bluestreak’s care, but bounces on the toes of his suit, “You kidding me? This is what we were built for.” He shot a glance towards his brother, Sideswipe was quick to ping them all.

Turning on their cameras, Hound tried not to laugh, or cry.

They all looked like hell, their assistance suits and suits themselves only doing so much to protect them from such concussive force. 

Jazz’s face was swollen, one of his eyes almost swollen shut. 

Breakdown had a gash across his jaw but otherwise seems fine. 

Sideswipe had clearly been crying but most of his face was covered, visor and oxygen mask hiding all but his red eyes from view. 

Sunstreaker had a black eye forming and it looked like his nose might be broken or it had at least bled a lot. 

Then he was able to see himself on a separate monitor, sure everything hurt but he hadn’t thought it was that bad.

He had busted open his lip and knocked out one of his teeth somehow, a bruise was forming across the side of his face and there was a trickle of blood coming from under his helmet. 

They all looked at each other and first there was a smile, then someone covered their mouth to hide the slight giggle, then they were all laughing. None of them could stop even as tears sprung to their eyes, gasping painfully. Waving his hand, Hound cleared his throat, “Alright, alright, we look and feel like shit but right now we need to bring the Quints to us.” He gestures lightly towards the sky.

Nodding a bit, Breakdown sighs, “Well, I can get them down but I think my suit’s head will come off with it.” With a hum, Hound looks up, “We don’t have much other choice, your head is reattachable but the city is not.” He moved over to Breakdown though, “But you don’t have to do it,” Shrugging, Breakdown looked up, “Yeah, but Iacon is our home now.” And that was enough. 

Shifting, Hound looks around, “Alright then, get to positions that will work while Breakdown brings them down. Brace for any impact then we’re going to move in, do what we do best.” Sunstreaker ran towards the edge of the rubble, sliding over a sheet of metal. Hound took a slow breath and moved back towards where He’d du Mirage up.

Sitting on the edge, he assembles his rifle and gets down as Jazz and Sideswipe move to the other side of the rubble. Carefully, Breakdown braces his feet against the rubble as his cannon hums to life.

”Arcturus, get ready and brace.” Hound’s voice went level, “You know, each time you say that it really warms my heart.” Jazz smirked a bit and Hound rolled his eyes, “Arcturus would not even exist without you pal, now focus up.” 

Breakdown’s canon was painfully loud, booming so loud it broke windows in the nearby buildings. The ship above shuddered once and started to fall.

Sideswipe stares, “What the fuck.” Nodding a bit, Hound sighs and lines up his sights, “Yeah, this is going to hurt.” When the bay door opened, he started firing.

—

The underlayers were rarely used now, other than for shelter when there were attacks near to the city. They weren’t alone down there, multiple nearby residential buildings having evacuated but they took over one of the older abandoned storefronts. 

Most of the rest of the crowd were in the designated and refurbished evacuation areas, well stocked and well lit, but going to one of those would require them to be cleared and guards which he didn’t have. The Prime could go most places with one guard and the Lord Protector, considering the state of both for the moment where they were at would have to do. 

He couldn’t help but pace, even with his dented and scraped armor, leaving the humans up on the surface by themselves was selfish. But he couldn’t leave his side, not now. Optics flicking over quickly, Optimus anxiously picked at his servos. 

Megatron was still unconscious, there being more than dents in his plating, a metal pole through his chassis that they hadn’t seen till he was laid out on the floor of all places. It made his spark ache sharply, even as Knockout worked on him, maintaining his stasis. 

Turning, he nearly jumped as Bluestreak set Sunstreaker’s arm down on the floor. The bracer glinted in the light for a moment and he watched Blue bow his helm, functioning optic dimming for the moment. Looking around, his spark spun and clenched painfully, it was the subtle things he noticed first.

The way Prowl was working, but with every noise from the surface his optics would flick as if checking his comm. Knockout whose helm was bent to the work but the light touches of blue paint on his servos and arms showed the connection enough. Even Mirage was jittery, though still out of it, he was staring up at the ceiling as if he was trying to see through it.

Their connections to those on the surface were stronger than he thought., romantic interests or not, he could feel it in the space. Through their fields the love and anxiety whipped around like the wind off the rust sea. 

Optimus moved slowly back over to Knockout and Megatron, lowering himself to the ground carefully. Turning his attention back to Megatron, he carefully brushed his digits over the mechs faceplates, never having wanted more in than in this moment to see his optics light up.  

But he could be patient, only in cases such as this, but still, patient. 

The ground above them shook with the first concussive fires of guns and cannons and Optimus let out a shaky vent, bowing his head and offlining his optics to pray. He wasn’t sure at this moment, for the first time in eons, if he was praying to Primus or whatever god the humans seemed to believe in. 

As the ground above continued to shake, he continued to pray, resting his services lightly on Megatron’s shoulders. Desperate for the connection they’d been depriving themselves of for these months. 

—

It took only a moment for them to light up the sky, turning on sound suppression, as Breakdown’s cannon went off and Hound’s rifle racked quickly before joining in the cacophony of noise. He tried hard not to wince, even as the ship above them listed and Quintessons started to come out.

These ones were bigger, why were they bigger then they normally were, “Fuck!” Sideswipe was moving back towards Sunstreaker, the pair taking each others backs with a practice that most other pilots wouldn’t know.

Hound’s throat tightened painfully, it took him a moment to close his eyes so he could strap on his oxygen mask, “I’d recommend we all wear our oxygen masks for this, I think we’ll need it.” He glances over to where they all were on screen, more in the corner of his vision than the actual screens. 

Each scrambled to do so, “How are we supposed to fight them when their way up there?” Sunny was staring up at the sky, eyes wide. With a hum, Breakdown shakes his head, “They’ll come down, don’t fret, just wait.” His cannon was painfully loud. 

It was through his scope, Hound watched as the ships engines spluttered and it slowly started to come down, Quints bailing out, “Twins, this is on you.” Both strange up as the first Quintessons came down. Hovering menacingly, Sideswipe moved first, bracers up and nearly glowing.

Sunstreaker took his back, arm up though shaking lightly, it wouldn’t be easy for him with just one, “Jazz, join them if you can.” Hound was still aiming at the sky, trying to take down some of them before they could reach the ground while Breakdown blew apart their ship to prevent the worst of the debris. 

They’d never got to fight like this back on Earth, but those first six months had given them just enough practice as a team for moments like these.

The moments they had been split up to avoid, or really, spirit up to survive until.

Jazz slid in next to Sideswipe with ease and when the Quint’s drew close, they sprung. It was almost beautiful, the way they were able to dispatch them, then chaos erupted. 

Disconnecting the rifle barrel from his gun, Hound joined the fray, keeping a close eye on Sunstreaker though he was holding his own very well all things considered. One armed army.

For the first several minutes, their comms were near silent, Breakdown’s cannon booming, Hound’s gun humming, and the ragged breaths of the strikers made it Eire.

”How do you think they got so close to Iacon?” Sunstreaker’s voice was already strangled, breathing heavily with effort, and Hound shrugs as his gun comes around on the next target, “I don’t know, we’ve seen them in other cities though.” He could still remember the times they’d been in Tarn and Kaon. 

Gasping for breath, Sideswipe shakes his head a bit, bringing his bracers down on a smaller more normal sized Quint as it shrieked, “We’ve seen a bunch in North Iacon, it’s possible they snuck past the guards.” Breakdown hums, “But not with such a large ship,” They all winced as it crashed into a nearby building, alarms starting to blare in the distance. 

With a glance that way, Hound looks around, “Jazz, Sunstreaker!” They barely spared a glance at each other before running that way, “Please let that area have been evacuated.” He couldn’t focus on that now, “Keep me updated on the situation.” Jazz glances back and nods, “Yeah!” Taking a moment to breathe, Hound adjusts the hold on his gun.

His implants itched and burned, so closing his eyes again, he checked over his connection as quickly as he could and ran through his coding with a flick of a switch. That brought everything back into hyper-focus. 

—

Time felt like it was dragging on, especially being underground, it had never been his favorite place to be and exactly why they tried to limit those who had to live down here. Choosing to live in the underlayer was very different then having to work.

He was still sat just above Megatron, waiting with the patience of a saint as Knockout worked. Wiping at his brow, Knockout sighs, “He’s coming too, be careful.” Just as Megatron’s optics online again, dim in color, and it tugged at Optimus’s spark. Groaning, Megatron attempts to sit up and Optimus gently pushes at his shoulder to make sure he stays laying down.

”Easy, it has been millenia since you’ve had a building collapse on you.” That brought a slight smile to his face, “Ah, the organic plant in the system with the binary dwarf stars.” Optimus smiled, brushing his digits over Megatron’s faceplates, “I’m glad that I’m not the only one who remembers.” Megatron’s face scrunched up slightly, “I threw us into that building, it was stupid.” Optimus chuckles.

He continues to brush his digits carefully over Megatron, “I should consider dropping more buildings on you, it seems to loosen your tongue.” Rolling his optics, Megatron grunts, but reaches up and takes Optimus’s hand, “I wish it wouldn’t require such drastic measures.” He vented slowly.

Glancing at where Knockout was working, Optimus worried his derma, Megatron squeezed his servos carefully, even behind his battle mask Megatron could tell when Optimus worried. More than their bond, simply a lifetime of knowing each other. 

“Your fretting,” Optimus chuckled weakly, “Sometimes I worry that you may run on anxiety instead of energon.” His weak chuckle turned into a laugh that brought a smile to Megatron’s pained face, “I used to think that this was an act, your worry and intense anxiety, I suppose it’s my own life sentence that it’s real.” 

Shaking his helm Optimus vents slowly, “Given instead of talking about our feelings, you started a war without me, I think it’s allowed.” Knockout winces and Megatron vents out slowly, bringing energon to his derma and Optimus watches him suppress a cough. 

Taking a deep in-vent, Megatron squeezes Optimus’s servos again, “I no longer wish to fight with you, not in my current state.” They stared at each other, “I still believe that I am owed an apology by my protector. Just so you are aware.” Megatron hummed, “Have I ever mentioned how glorious the shine of your optics are?” And Optimus laughed hard, smiling bright as his battle mask slid aside.

Brushing his digits back over Megatron’s face, “I believe you have, most often in moments like this. Instead of ‘I’m sorry My Prime’ you often remark on some aspect of my appearance.” Rolling his optics, Megatron cracks a smile, “Do you expect anything else from me, my dear?” Shaking his head slowly, Optimus pressed a kiss to his cheek, “Of course not, but I do want an actual apology when you are healed, less you desire to remain in your amica’s hab.” The pain on Megatron’s face was more than just from the damage to his frame. 

“I mean no offense to Soundwave, but it is painful enough to have his wards in my unit, to remain in their hab has been torture.” Optimus chuckled, “I take it you mean specific twins? More than Ravage or Ratbat.” Megatron grunts, “I think you will find it surprising to hear that Lazerbeak is difficult to room with, then again it was less torturous when there were other things to focus on.” Optimus hummed.

They stared at each other for a long moment, “However, I can recognize when I have spoken in error. Much of what I said was uncalled for, I’m sorry for insinuating that you did not care and that you were anything like your abusive predecessors.” Optimus swore his spark hummed and he smiled, “Now that wasn't so hard, was it?” Megatron grumbled, “You know just as well as I that it reminds one of swallowing rust sticks whole.” 

Megatron shifted and winced, Knockout smacked his leg, “Do not move, it will hurt more if you do and I lack proper equipment.” Grunting, Megatron sighed and looked back to Optimus. He looked tired.

”Optimus, where are the humans?” His voice was still weak, still pained and Optimus glanced at Knockout, who nodded and adjusted his connection. Megatron’s optics cycled wide for a moment before dimming, “Damn you.” Being careful, Optimus holds Megatron’s face in his servos, “I’m here, just rest.” Placing a careful kiss on his fore-helm. 

Megatron’s hand came up and grasped his wrist, venting with a shudder, “Alright.” Smiling sadly, Optimus keeps hold until Megatron is back in stasis. Knockout giving him a nod and Optimus moved back, letting Knockout return to his work.

Sitting back against the ancient wall, he shuttered his optics for a moment, they were hiding down here while the humans could be up on the surface dying for them. Someone settled down next to him, so onlining his optics, Optimus stared at Mirage for a long moment.

”Hound saved my life, again.” Smiling softly, Optimus nods and rests an arm around Mirage’s shoulders, “Because he cares, cares deeply.” Humming, Mirage offlined his optics, “Yeah, he’s great.” It hurt, having to suppress his laughter, suppressing the wince after too. 

These humans had burrowed their way into his best bots sparks and he was still unsure as to be thankful or fearful.

—

Hound collided with a Quintesson, it felt absurdly huge compared to what they were used to. These couldn’t be the scouts they were used to fighting, they were even bigger than the ones in the attack on New Kaon. 

“How is your suit holding up Breakdown?” He grunted as tentacles pulled at his already loose plating, “It’s hold up, thank you Hound.” He nodded as Sideswipe moves in and cuts apart the limbs that were trying to wrap around his suit, swinging back around Hound dug the barrel of his gun in and fired.

They were splattered in green, nearly completely desensitized to it now, Hound just grunted and dug in to finish the job. 

Sideswipe went to the next in line, trying to keep them from wandering towards the streets or worse central Iacon. 

He was breathing heavy, trying to keep his gun from overheating and pushing himself to far. This was worse than their typical battles down, at the edge of cities or on uninhabited planets, this was at their bar in Iacon. 

This chunk of land was theirs, their connection to home and he was filled with a renewed hate. Firing at an approaching Quint, “We have to keep them from flooding the streets. Jazz, Sunstreaker, how's the crash site look?” There was a distinct sound of someone tearing through a Quintesson.

The shriek and popping sound were one that they all knew well, “We’ve got it mostly contained for the moment, once your areas clear though we’d appreciate the help!” Jazz was working hard and Hound had nothing but respect for that, “We’ll be there as soon as we can be.” Moving over quickly, he slams into a Quint nearing Breakdown’s back.

“Just might be a minute.” Panting, Jazz nods in the edge of his view, “We’re not going anywhere.” Nodding back, Hound focuses on the aliens in front of him. Falling into a comfortable silence, the typical callbacks of battle.

It’s always in the moments of quiet that people feel the need to speak up.

“I think I called Elita mom by accident.” Banter was good, but that seriously caught him off guard, “What?” Sideswipe sighs, even as his bracers cut through a particularly thick Quint, splattering him in it’s gore, “I was freaking the fuck out, alright? Overuse is a bitch we all have it live with.” Most of them chuckled at that, though grunting with effort just after.

Throwing a look over his shoulder, Hound frowned. Sure, they all dealt with the flashbacks and hallucinations of overuse, they’d spoken on it but to be reminded of that in this scene. He glanced down at the rubble under his feet, then back at Sideswipe even as he fired on the Quintesson approaching Breakdown.

Their parents had died when their apartment building collapsed, Sideswipe hadn’t been there when it happened but Sunstreaker had. He sighed slowly, “You alright now Sideswipe?” There was a pause, “As good as I will be.” Nodding a bit, Hound pings Sunstreaker with a reminder for later.

He throws himself into the work, trying to bring the Quints to them and keep them in this area, their bar was their Alimo. 

The screeching of jet engines brought his eyes up, staring for a second as blaster rained down on the Quints around them, “Hell yeah!” Sideswipe pumps his fist, even as he brings his other arm down on two tentacles trying to wrap around him.

Breakdown watched before looking at Hound, “I’m going to go assist Sunstreaker and Jazz.” Nodding, Hound pats his shoulder, “Hurry.” With a stiff nod, Breakdown took off, his cannon lowering to a low hum.

Hound turned back at the scene around him, the break in the fight enough for a moment to breathe and watch the seekers fly in, likely from Vos based on their direction. He watched them for a moment before bringing his gun back up to lay into the Quints near himself.

Now it was just Sideswipe and himself, with some air support at the very least.

Glancing back up, he couldn’t help it. 

Waving up, he was grinning as the seekers rushed across the sky, six. It was only two trines but it was better than nothing as they started to lay into the enemy from above. Hound was still grinning when he watched a stray bolt streak towards him, everything seemed to move in slow motion then.

Cutting his lines was instinct, but he didn’t have time to sever the connection at the arm so it would fall before being hit. Instead, it severed at the shoulder as he attempted to dive out of the way. Instantly going numb, damn hunter coding, he rolled for a moment before coming back to his knees. 

He stared at his arm in the rubble for a long moment, “What the hell, hey!” He looks towards the seekers and flips them off with remaining hand, “Watch where you’re firing! We can be hurt by your fire!” Grumbling, he got back to his feet and turned towards the enemy.

”One armed ass kicking contest it is then.” Sunstreaker seemed to smile in the corner of his vision, “Oh, Knockout is going to love us tonight!” Chuckling darkly, Hound shrugs, “Only if he catches us.” Sunny laughed before shouting something unintelligible.

This fight was just starting, they were dealing with the stragglers. Sunny, Jazz, and now Breakdown were derailing with the infestation.

———

A/N

Yes, the few nights Megatron has spent in Iacon while him and Optimus were arguing, he slept at Soundwave’s. If you can really call that sleep.

Also the Seeker that shot off Hound’s arm was Skywarp, sorry.

So, yeah, part 40. 30 more parts that I ever imagine for Arcturus One. Crazy scenes.

The next ten parts are going to be WILD.

TAGS

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger @pixel-transformers @mrcrayonofdoom @wireplaces @twilightfreefaller @original-blog-name-2 @devilangel657 @robbin-u @miniartistme @starwold @tea-enthusiasm @valeexpris606 @celticdoggo @bird599 @agentsquirrelsgotrobots @aquaioart @thatwandercat @artdagz @seisha974 @halenhusky309 @leethepiper @cat-cassette @sirassban @cosmique-oddity @garbageenthusiast @xervias @azulabutterfly @fryseem @spring-mc @echo-circuit @aghostsnail @wooblewooble @ask-glory-haddock-and-others @nonsscrapheap @magichats @iminahole247 @omgflyingderpywhale @thetrexartist @naaaafam @elegantmantaray @emichusai @waterlilykitty @diabolichare @ham4ponyo @osqindaxend @sunnyvibesanddoodles @ratatatata248 @ijustneedausernaneplease4444444 @sprook-children @fooolisher 

And once again thank you to @Keferon for this amazing AU

[sunandflame]

Hullo! Would you write a drabble about Law and a witch reader? I always think that science and magic are opposite sides of the same coin, so I wonder how Law would react to a witch who can heal with magic XD

Surgeon and Sorceress

Word Count: 705

Pairing: Trafalgar D. Law x Witch!Reader

crossposted on AO3

He doesn’t believe in magic.

He’s said it, flat out, arms crossed and voice cool. "There’s always a rational explanation. If not now, then later." That’s how Trafalgar Law sees the world: cells, tissue, muscle, bone. Cause, effect. The way a body splits beneath a scalpel and stitches back together under practiced hands.

You are... not that.

You didn’t walk into his operating room with credentials or a medical chart. You appeared in a cloud of violet smoke after a storm-tossed skirmish, when half his crew was injured and the rest too exhausted to do more than gawk.

“Let me help,” you said.

And you did.

With a whispered word and a warm palm to the skin, the wounds began to knit. Bruises faded. Burns cooled. Bone—broken clean through—slid back into place with a soft snap and a sigh.

Law watched the whole thing with a shuttered gaze.

Didn’t interrupt. Didn’t speak. Just watched, like you were a particularly bizarre insect under glass.

Later, he said: “It’s not magic. Just an unknown application of Devil Fruit properties. Or sleight of hand.”

You smiled at him then. Tilted your head. “Call it what you want, Surgeon. It worked.”

It becomes a pattern.

You don’t stay on the Polar Tang permanently, but you come and go with their journeys, a strange and welcome presence—neither crew nor stranger. The men have long since decided they like you. Bepo trails after you like a second shadow. Shachi and Penguin beg for charms that they hang from their belts like talismans.

Law never asks for anything. But he watches. Always. And when you heal someone too fast, or too thoroughly, he frowns like it offends him.

One night, you ask him about it.

The two of you are seated on opposite ends of the Polar Tang’s lower deck. There’s a candle between you, and a tin of salve you offered him after a shallow cut on his knuckles refused to close.

He hasn’t used it.

“Why don’t you like it?” you ask softly. “The magic.”

He doesn’t look at you. “It’s not a matter of like or dislike.”

“Then what?”

A pause. Then, curtly: “It has no rules.”

That makes you blink. “Isn’t that true of most things? The ocean doesn’t follow rules. Neither do people.”

“Not like this.” He lifts his hand. The knuckle is red, still split open. He gestures toward the tin you offered. “I don’t understand it. I can’t explain it. I can’t replicate it. If it goes wrong, I can’t fix it. That’s not healing. That’s gambling.”

You don’t flinch. But you do go quiet for a moment. Then: “You know, I used to think that too.”

He looks at you now, curious despite himself.

You smile, faintly. “I studied herbs first. Pressure points. Blood flow. I wanted to understand the human body before I ever let magic near it. I thought—maybe—if I knew everything, I could keep people safe.” Your fingers toy with the tin’s lid, absent. “But people still died.”

The words land heavy between you.

“So I learned magic. And people still died. But a few more lived.” You glance at him. “Isn’t that the goal?”

Law doesn’t answer immediately. He’s staring at the wound on his hand again. The way it’s healing—slow, imperfect. A reminder that he’s still human too.

You shift closer, holding out your palm. “Let me?”

He hesitates. But then, slowly, he lays his hand in yours.

Your fingers are warm. Your magic, warmer.

It’s not showy. No flash or chant. Just a soft golden glow curling beneath his skin, the torn flesh sealing like it never broke.

You don’t let go right away.

And neither does he.

His voice is lower now.  “You could’ve fooled me.”

You smile. “About what?”

“Not being a doctor.”

Your heart jumps—just a little. “And you,” you murmur, gently brushing your thumb over the spot where the cut once was, “you could’ve fooled me about not believing in magic.”

He huffs. A rare thing. Almost a laugh. “Still don’t.” 

But he doesn’t pull away.

And for a man who believes everything has a rule, a reason, a rational explanation—you think that might be the most magical thing of all.

[hummingbird24220]

The Ace Effect

One Piece x Reader

I cant stop thinking about this man, the fanart i keep seeing doesn't help. I need a cold shower. I ship him with too many people (mostly myself tho ;)) (((I feel like Robin would understand)))

You’ve never been one to believe in fate or prophecy. Science is your thing—data, hypotheses, conclusions. So, when you stumbled face-first into the inexplicable, you reacted like any reasonable, well-educated person would:

You made a presentation.

"—and here," you said, tapping your pointer on the next slide, "we see Exhibit C: Ace and Mihawk. You’ll notice the contrast. It's the scar-tattoo-brood combo. Delicious. Balanced."

Robin sat across from you at the library table, sipping tea like this was a TED Talk she had paid to attend. “Hmm. You’ve done your research.”

“I had to, Robin.” You turned dramatically to face her. “I had questions. Big ones. Existential. Why is Ace so stupid hot? Why would he look good with anyone? Anyone at all? Why do I feel betrayed and like he's emotionally cheating on me with everyone else?”

She smiled. “And your conclusion?”

You clicked to the final slide, which was simply a photo you’d drawn of Ace shirtless, lounging next to Nami, Sanji, Vivi, Smoker, that one sexy fishman guy, and a sword. Not a swordsman. A literal sword.

The title: “Ace: A Versatile Flame. A Study in Universal Compatibility.”

“…I think it’s the freckles,” you whispered.

Robin leaned in slightly. “You may be onto something. They’re quite… whimsical.”

“I know, right?” you hissed.

-

Sanji had passed by earlier, caught a glimpse, and walked away muttering “What the actual hell” with a bleeding nose. Usopp asked if you’d consider putting him in a hypothetical ship chart with Ace, to “test the aesthetic,” and you did—he looked great. You added him to Slide 12.

Zoro saw the chart and left the room in silence. You think he was internally screaming. Good.

Luffy just said, “Cool drawing! I like the one where Ace is holding the cow,” and then left to go fight a cloud.

-

Robin leaned back, satisfied. “You’ve built a compelling case. Though you may have overlooked one important pairing.”

You blinked. “Which?”

She gave you a small smile. “You and Ace.”

Your brain did a full reboot. “I—what—I’m sorry, what?"

Robin pointed calmly to Slide 8, where you had accidentally drawn yourself next to Ace for a height comparison chart. He had his arm slung around your shoulders. You’d given yourself really nice eyelashes.

“…that was for scale,” you said weakly.

“Of course.” Robin sipped her tea. “And scale is important.”

Later that night, you sat on the deck with a sketchbook in your lap, muttering curses as you started a new drawing.

Ace, smiling at you.

Just you.

No Smoker, no fishmen, no sword.

Just you and him and those damn freckles.

And maybe… that wasn't such a mystery after all.

-

You were in full David Attenborough mode.

Hidden behind a barrel (for science), your notebook was open, pen poised, watching Portgas D. Ace interact with the crew like a charismatic apex predator in his natural habitat.

“He’s approaching the chef,” you whispered to yourself, eyes narrowed. “Posture relaxed. Smile: crooked, dumb, and weaponized.”

Sanji laughed at something Ace said.

“Interaction: Positive. Sanji is blushing. Is he blushing?? He’s blushing. Dear god.”

You scribbled frantically:

Sanji + Ace = Flame + Cigarette = FLIRTING?!?!?! (Possibly romantic tension? Check for more encounters. Monitor closely.)

Ace tilted his head back, laughing at one of Sanji’s quips, and Sanji offered him a lighter. Ace, ever the showman, lit his own finger and sparked the cigarette with a wink.

You dropped your pen.

“…That’s seduction. That’s actual seduction.”

Later, he moved on to spar with Zoro.

You ducked behind a barrel again, dramatically flipping the page.

“Subject has shifted zones. New environment: Combat flirtation???”

Zoro was annoyed, Ace was grinning, and there was so much tension you were practically melting. Or maybe that was just the heat. Or your soul leaving your body through your ears.

Zoro + Ace = SWORDS + FIRE = ENEMIES TO LOVERS? (The heat, the sweat, the shared aggression… it’s all there.)

You added an asterisk.

Note: Explore fanart potential. Maybe rain scene. No shirts. Very cinematic.

At some point, Ace caught your eye across the deck and waved. Big smile. Bright eyes. Pure sunshine energy.

You waved back, totally chill.

Totally normal.

Then ducked behind your notebook and started sketching.

Y/N + Ace = ????????????????? (Unstable variable. Dangerous. Possibly terminal.)

You drew little fire emojis and hearts and one tiny gravestone labeled "RIP Me (Death by freckles)."

You didn't even realize Robin was standing behind you until she placed a calm hand on your shoulder.

“You’re spiraling,” she said gently.

You screamed and nearly hurled the notebook into the sea.

“I—I wasn’t—Robin, I can explain.”

She looked at the notes. “Hmm. These equations are getting suspiciously self-incriminating.”

“…I’m a researcher.”

“You’re a simp.”

“…touché.”

[annarobszombies]

Hello! This is 🦐 annon here!

I have made this request before for another writer but I wanted to see different visions on this.

Imagine a witch reader that has a connection with nature and uses it to help the Kos while not caring about keeping her nature a secret. In the meanwhile, senku notices this but tries to get a logic explaining every time because for him there is no damn way witches existed all the time and no one really notices. So one day while Perseus is almost finished, reader asks to borrow the ship for just one night, and when Ryusui asks why, reader just says: "oh, I want to make a protection spell so your journey won't be hard in the sea!". Senku hears that and ALMOST says it's illogical, but this idea pop in his mind that he just waits until the night and follows reader to the ship, trying to figure out this magic witch thing. Just to get completely shocked when he saw the true nature of a witch in her action, the power that floats around reader while she cast the protection spell on the Perseus.

Don't know how to flow after that, it's up to you! Hope you have a great day!

Hello shrimp anon!

This fits so well with my horror/fantasy AU because magic would totally be more effective in the stone world

Old spirits and creatures from folklore he could accept. This was the stone world after all. Once humans were no longer an issue, anything that had been hiding from them was sure to start coming back around. 

But magic? That was harder to believe.

Physical beings could be studied. If they were intelligent, they could be interviewed. But magic was little more than a concept. Something that was just science mixing with superstition. There was no evidence that it was-or ever had been-real. But it made you happy to believe that you could do it, so he just let it go.

“Ryusui!” Senku’s head turns at the sound of your voice. It was getting late, everyone needed to get some sleep so that tomorrow could go smoother. He watches from where he was sitting a short distance away as you walk with a little extra pep in your step right up to the captain of the Perseus. 

He doesn’t hear what’s said between the two of you, but whatever it is has Ryusui’s eyebrows rising, one of his big, slow grins spreading over his face. 

“Of course!” Ryusui yells. “I want it!” You laugh, your head nodding in agreement. Then you turn, and walk off. 

“What was that all about?” Senku asks as he approaches the other man.

“They’re going to put a magical barrier on the ship!” Ryusui says. “I’m not totally sure I believe in all that, but when we’re on the open sea, we’re going to need all the help we can get. Am I wrong?” 

“No, you’re not wrong,” Senku says. It was just something you were doing to make yourself feel better about the long journey ahead, and nothing more. 

Wishing Ryusui a good night, Senku wanders the direction you’d gone off in. If you were going to mess around the ship in the middle of the night, you should at least have someone nearby in case something happened. Besides, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little bit curious. He’d never actually seen you cast your spells before, so he wondered just what went into something like this- whether it was real or not. 

He trails after you quietly, and you either don’t notice him or don’t care, as you never once look back or try to speak to him. Maybe you were mentally preparing yourself, reciting your spell in your head so you didn’t stumble over it. You could be making a list of things you had to do, or what you needed in order to accomplish whatever it was you were planning. 

He appreciated your meticulous nature. 

When you reach the Perseus, you sigh out a soft ‘okay!’ and start up the ramp, hands digging through the little bag you always kept on your hip for your ”spellwork”. He follows you up onto the deck, and finally speaks up.

“So, what’s the plan here?” He asks, watching you stoop down to draw something on the wood with a piece of chalk. 

“Protection spells are usually really easy for me, but this one has to be big, so I’ve gotta make sure I do it right,” You say, not fully answering his question.

“Anything I can do to help?” He may not be a believer, but you two were on the same team. He had no issue helping set up candles or tying herbs together for you. 

“Um,” You pause, standing back to your full height and putting your hands on your hips. “Actually, yes. Can you come hold something for me real fast?” 

“Sure, alright,” He says, following where you point him to. Once in position, you pull that something out of your bag. The one thing you don’t let anyone look at too closely. 

Your spellbook is heavier than he’d expected, and he nearly drops it when you dump it in his hands to hold for you while you open and flip through it quickly. It takes everything he has not to stare at the pages of formulas and try to work them out. 

Magic sure looked a lot like math in several places. But you turn the pages too quickly for him to gather much information. He makes a mental note to try to convince you to let him see it again another day. 

“Oh- this one!” You stop at a page within the first quarter of the book. Smoothing your hands over the page, your eyes dart across the stone age paper, muttering under your breath as you read your own scrawled notes. Once satisfied, you take the book from him, slapping it shut and shoving it back into your bag. 

So, it was more of a reference book than anything else. Interesting. 

“Okay, so,” You take a breath, stepping into the middle of your lines of chalk. “This should be super fast.” 

“Anything I need to do?” He asks. You shake your head. 

“You can just stand there and watch.” 

Fair enough, he supposed. Though, it wasn’t like anything was going to happ-

You close your eyes and inhale a long, slow breath. The air around the two of you changes, the breeze whipping around you and tugging at clothes and hair. It wasn’t anything crazy, but it was enough to get his attention. 

His heart beats hard in his chest. Even though there were no bright flashing lights or words spoken, he could feel the shift in the world around him. The way the wind swirled around you, how the water calmed to near perfect stillness, and how the trees seemed to stretch their branches towards you, reaching for you as if to give you their power. 

When you exhale and open your eyes, he’s not even sure he’s looking at you anymore. Your gaze held something in it he’d never seen in another human being. Hell, even the spirits he’d been having to shoo away from everything for the past few years didn’t look like that. 

His mind races, trying to find a reason for everything. Maybe the weather was having a sudden turn, or maybe he was exhausted. Maybe he’s even inhaled something and is massively hallucinating. 

But something in him, something deep in his blood and under his bones, told him that it wasn’t that simple. That what he was looking at had no logical explanation. That magic had no logical explanation. 

He’s still reeling from the experience when you put a hand on his shoulder, startling him. 

“Hey, you okay?” You ask, worried. 

“What just…” He doesn’t know what to say, or what to do. A smile creeps onto your face, slow and knowing. You pat him on the shoulder before reaching to take one of his hands and start pulling him along with you back off the ship.

He looks back over his shoulder, eyes catching sight of the lines of chalk you’d just been standing in. He watches as they fade into little sparkles of dim light, each speck sinking into the Perseus and strengthening it. 

“We aren’t going to make sure it worked?” He finally manages to ask once his feet hit the dirt. 

“It worked,” You say with a soft hum. 

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

[fandomtherapy44]

Leading moments Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n L/n is a new technical analyst for the FBI under the wings of the great Penelope Gracia. So she gets to meet her idol, Dr.Spencer Reid. Read the moments that led to them getting together.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! reader

WC: 3,234

Warnings: Spoilers for CM mainly season 9, talk about SA, allusions to sex, language

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cafekitsune

All pictures from Pinterest.

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I did it! I actually did it. I made it to the FBI to be taught by the amazing Penelope Gracia. I graduated at the top of my computer science class at MIT. When I told people I was going for the BAU, a lot of people scoffed at it, saying no way a girl like me could ever take a brutal job like a technical analyst for the FBI with all the horrible cases they take on. Well, I wanted to prove them wrong and I did. Three months of soaking in all the information on searching through all the files to get my future team the unsub. Walking in the main office of the BAU, a feeling of pride came over me so much that I didn't see where I was walking. 

“Ahh Shit!” As I turned, I had run smack into a lanky six-foot man. “I am so sorry!” My whole Iced coffee went all over him. I grabbed the few napkins the cafẽ gave me with my coffee and tried to dry up the brown liquid as much as possible.

“It's okay, I’m fine.” The man reassured me.

“No, no, it's not. The first day, I spilled coffee all over my coworker. “Thankfully, I have an extra shirt, so it’s no big deal.” Wow, if only all the men in my life were this nice. I look up to say, “At least let me buy a new shirt,” but I am stopped by how handsome he is. The light moves through his brown, almost hazel eyes with a gold tint, making anyone stare deep into them.

His chiseled face makes you feel like you are in a Greek museum looking at the ancient statues. Clothes that anyone would be jealous of the style of a British professor with a pressed tie and a stemmed button shirt, slacks pristine, and not a speck of dirt on his shoes. Cologne invades your nose with notes of pine, old pages of a book, and lavender. “You okay?” Shit I was desatcing his whole persona that I must look like a creep.

“Uh, yes, yes, I am. Again, sorry.” I point out the shirt.

“Really, you're good, I always have an extra shirt.” Again, where are all the gentlemen like this!?

“AH! There is my robin!” Penelope Gracia exclaimed to us, walking with her pumps echoing in the hallway. Her dress had all the colors on it, and she had a multitude of different accessories. What is the dress code again?

“I see our dear genius Dr. Spencer Reid has already met the mini me, AKA Y/n L/n.” Wait, what, the Dr. Spencer Reid! 

“Oh my Gosh, Dr.Reid!” They both looked surprised at me. “I have read every paper of yours, studied your practice cases inside and out, you practically got me through MIT, and it is a true honor to work with you.”  

With that, a cord had struck within him of fulfillment that a stranger had given like no other. “Uh, thank you. I look forward to it.” With that, he gives an awkward simile. 

“Come on, I've got to introduce you to the rest of the Justice League!” Gracia tugs me off in the direction of the main office. I wave to Dr.Reid. This should be interesting.

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About a month working into this job, and holy moly, it seems every day we have a horrible case on our desks. But I can take it. I'm getting my morning coffee, and I have the sudden desire to get everyone coffee. Everyone has been so welcoming, I had to show my appreciation somehow. But just as I walk in, we get called in for a case. We’re at the round table waiting for everyone to get in.

“Gracia, can you pull up the files?” Hotch said in his firm but gentle voice.

“Actually, I was thinking Y/n would do it today.” Everyone turns their attention to me.

“Me? Uh, right of course.” I stand up and grab the remote.

“So two women have sadly been found raped and mured in the park where they have been shot in the heart and been positioned in a prayer position. There is nothing Godly about that.” A shiver goes down my spine. “Glendale police have asked for help on these, hoping to stop a third one. And I have sent the files all to your tablets, and for Reid, I will have a physical copy.” 

“Alright, thank you, L/n, wheels up in thirty.” 

“I got coffee for everyone.” Everyone takes one. “Oh, Reid, here’s your physical copy.” I hand him the copy, and our hands touch in the handover, and chills develop in my entire body.

“Thank you uh how did you know that’s how I like my files?” He gives a small grin at someone knowing that.

“I once read in one of your papers on learning that you just contain information better through paper reading, in that way, so I thought that these victims deserve Dr.Reid’s full attention.” Just looking at him, my stomach develops butterflies. 

“So you really read all of my papers?” 

“All of them.” Again, the sense of fulfillment went through Reid.

“Right, thanks for the coffee.”

“No problem!” I give a smile and walk to Gracias' office. Reid takes a big gulp of coffee and realises there’s milk in it. The thing is, he’s lactose intolerant. But he couldn't tell Y/n not with that smile.

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Gracia was in the restroom, and I was at the desk, and the phone rang. Shit this hasn't happened where I'm the only one in here. I answer, and Reid quickly asks before I can say anything.

“Gracia, can you look up men in their early thirties who have had a restraining order placed on them?” 

“Uh, actually it’s L/n.” My heart quickens.

“Oh, um, I can call back later.” 

“No, I can do this, it's the whole reason I'm here, so you said men in their early thirties have had a restraining order on them.” I put in the search.

“That's a big list, Reid. Can I have any other unique things about them?”

“Try single men that might have been in trouble in school, mostly for being creepy towards girls.” 

“Now that helps, Dr. I just got six hits, sending them now.” Files sent.

“Thank you, L/n.”

“You are welcome, Dr.” I hang up the call and do a little happy dance.

“See I knew you were ready.” Gracia was leaning against the doorframe.

“I guess I was.”

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The team had just gotten back from this case where this man was taking people and infecting them with a special strain of rabies. He was fascinated with it since his little brother got it when they were kids, and his parents had to kill him to put him out of his misery. Such a sad story, but luckily our team had gotten him before he got another victim. And in the chase, Reid had gotten a little tousled.

“Hey, how’s the bump doing?” He was getting his stuff to go home.

“Uh, as good as you can be after being hit in the head with a mini statue head.”  He barely touches the scratch, and it stings.

“Here I got you this.” I hand him a bottle full of vitamins.

“Vitamin A?”

“It can help heal bumps and scratches heal faster with cell growth.” 

“Wow, um, not many people really know that.”

“I learned it when I was playing soccer in middle school; I wasn't the most graceful player.” We both giggle at that.

Spencer gets a vibe and takes the plunge. “Do you maybe want to get dinner so we can keep talking about, um, soccer days?” 

Did Spencer Reid just invite me to dinner? “Yes! Um, yes, that sounds good, Thai?”

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It’s been about an hour into our dinner, and oh my gosh, my younger self is screaming out right now.

“So you shot down the L.D.S.K. in Texas?” I asked, hanging on to every word.

“Yeah, Hotch and I were being held hostage, and Hotch played up this ruse of him hating me and wanting to beat me up before we were killed. I pulled his ankle gun and shot him in the head.”

“Damn nice shot!”

“I was aiming for his knee.” I don’t even notice I’m laughing again, like I have been this whole time.

“You graduated from MIT's top computer science program. What made you want to be an analyst for the FBI?” That made me stop and think.

“I was fifteen and had this best friend, her name was Chrissy Cunningham, and we lived in this rinky-dink town. We both had dreams to get out, but that was dashed when she went missing. Everyone told me she ran, but I knew someone had taken her. And I was right she was found a month later raped and throat slit.”

“They never caught the guy?” Reid asks with a softness behind it.

“No, this guy was clean, but the tiny bit of DNA left, they just threw it away because they didn't have the proper ways to run it. So I promised myself that I would learn everything about crime analytics to never let another person be forgotten like that again.” A tear had run down my cheek.

“I’m sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry.” 

“You're good, Reid, it's just something that always will.” 

 “I had to watch my girlfriend get shot in front of me.”

“Oh my gosh, Spen-”

“That’s why I still do this, so I can help others never feel that same pain.”

“What was her name?”

“Mave.”

“Well, she sounds pretty smart to have been with you.”

“She was, and thanks.”

“Just doing my duty as your friend.” We both sit with the fact that someone out there truly understood the other.

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“Let me get this straight. You're saying that the sun makes a sound, but we don’t hear it?” I asked Reid. We were walking to work, and he held the coffee that I'd been getting him every morning.

“Exactly. The wavelength of the pressure waves from the Sun is measured in hundreds of miles, however, meaning they are far beyond the range of human hearing.” He wanted to keep going, but didn’t want to annoy Y/n, like he seemed to do with some of his other friends.

“Reid, did you have to add more?” I stopped walking.

“I do, but you probably don’t want to hear all that.” He moved in front of me, but I pulled him back.

“Excuse me, Dr. Spencer Reid. Hearing your knowledge is a sought-after thing for lots of people, including me, so please finish your thoughts. I can listen to your thoughts for hours. Plus, it helps the time go by faster.” Spencer grins and grips the coffee cup more, looking at the smiley face I drew on it. Now let’s go; we don’t want Hotch scolding us.”

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I was sifting through Spencer’s files, looking through for a specific one. When I accidentily push his bag off.

“Fuck..” I whisper and start picking up his things. And I picked a bottle of lactose tablets. Is Reid allergic to dairy? 

“Hey L/n do you you-” He stopps when he sees whats in my hands.

“Are you allergic to diary?”

“Yes…” He whispers.

“SPENCER REID!” I yell.

“I'm sorry, don’t be mad.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” 

“I didnt want you stop bringing me coffee it made you so happy.” My heart swells with that.

“Reid, I'm not mad, I just dont want you getting hurt just for my sake.”

“I would every time.” He says under his breath, but I don’t hear it.

“Tomorrow I will bring you a coffee with no milk.” He wants to protest.

“You don’t have to do that-”

“Shh Dr, a hot coffee with no milk will be here bright and early, okay?”

“Okay…”

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We were celebrating at karaoke night and with drinks. Reid had delivered a baby in the field.

“How did you know how to deliver it?” We all stood there waiting for the genius to respond.

“When JJ was pregnant, I memorized the manual in case she went into labor in the field.” Not only is this man one of the smartest, but also one of the sweetest people you will ever meet.

Then we sang karaoke while Hotch recorded us.

“Reid… you are… so… cool.” I might have been a tiny bit drunk.

“Oh yeah, I am?” Of course, he was sober as a comuber.

“Yeah… I mean, you do all this cool stuff and are sooooo smart. Not to mention…. Sooooo hot.” I groaned in my arm.

“Hot?” He cleared his throat, hearing that.

“Exactly, you just show up, you're hot like in your sexy sweater vests and deep comforting voice. And oh my gosh, you have such a face card. Like fuck your IQ too like I don’t know how you don’t have women dropping their pant-”

“Okay, girlfriend, time to go home.” Here was Gracia to save me, but of course drunk me did not want to budge.

“No Penople I have to tell Reid he’s soooo fuck-”

“MORGAN!” She shouts for help.

“What! What’s the problem!?” Penelope just points to me.

“Gotcha alrighty, let's go before you reveal state secrets.” He picks me up like a sack of potatoes.

“Reid call meeeeeee.” I announced as I carried out.

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The next morning, a pounding headache woke me up. I called Gracia and prayed that everything I said was a dream.

“Hey, secret spiller!” She greeted me.

“So that wasn't a dream that I told Reid he was fuckable.”

“Nope…”

“I can never show my face again.” I moan into a pillow.

“Maybe you can tell him that was an evil twin; he’s really into that theory.”

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Reid was in the hospital, and it was serious. The whole team went to Texas for the case of prostitutes, who were getting killed in brutal ways. In the end, they got into a big shootout with the alleged unsub. In the crossfire, he got shot in the neck. Penelope and I practically run to the waiting room. Where Alex and JJ are waiting.

“Hey.” We both hug Alex and JJ.

“How is he?” I asked, scared of the answer.

“He’s still in the surgery. They can't give us anything else right now.” JJ answered with tears in her eyes.

“JJ you go catch that son of bitch Penople and I will stay and will call you as soon as we have news. But… right now I need you to get the person who made our friend like this.” She just nods and goes to catch up with Rossi.

We must have been sitting for two and a half hours, and during that whole time, the room wouldn’t stop blurring and spinning. Gracia noticed me and grabbed my hand.

“Don’t worry; our boy genius is strong.” I just tightened my grip back, nodding. If I had any words come out, I would sob.

“Reid?” The doctor calls out.

I'm the first one there. “Yes, how is he?”

“It was a little touch and go for a little bit, but he will pull through. If it had been two inches over, it would have been over, but luckily, that didn't happen. You can see him now.”

We walk into his room, and there he is with a bandage around his neck and an oxygen mask on. I sit down on the chair next to him vowing not to leave until he wakes up and he sees people care for him, people love- Shit… really! This is the time I realize I’m in love with Spencer Reid!? Gracia starts to take out Doctor Who figurines. So he can see something familiar when he wakes up.

“There's Nothing like the good doctor to make him smile, " Blake commented. I can tell this also really affected her.

“What if he woke up and we were all just up in his face like blah, I’m going to go get him some food so he has something to fuel that big brain when he wakes up.” Penelope walks out with tears almost falling. But my attention drifts back to Reid when his hand twitches and he groans. I grab it without a second thought and rub the back of his hand.

“Shh, you're okay, you're okay.” I was telling both of us in that sentence.

“You love him, don’t you?” Hearing the word sent shock through my body, and I turned to Alex.

“I really hate profilers, you know that?” I half laugh.

“Oh, sweetheart, you dont have to be a profiler to see you care for him. Are you going to tell him?”

“Oh no, I couldn't.”

“Why not?” 

“It’s selfish, Blake, I… I couldn't do that to him. He just lost Mave almost two years ago? I… no, I can’t.” 

“Do you think it’s selfish to tell your Love? Y/N, let me tell you something: In this job and all the things we do, it’s important to tell someone what you feel because next time, we might not be so lucky.” 

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Knock knock. I knocked on Reid’s door; Blake had just dropped him off wanting him to get rest. I just couldnt let him be alone.

“Y/n?” There he stands, looking a little dissheveled but handsome as ever.

“Hey… I wanted to make sure you were comfortable, you know, since you just got shot in the neck and all.” He opened the door and let me in. His apartment was exactly what I thought it would be: full of books, a cozy fireplace, and a fuzzy blanket waiting for you on the couch.

“So how’s the pain?” We sit on the couch together.

“Uh, it’s okay, it’s manageable with Tylenol.” 

“They didn't give you anything stronger?” 

“Uh, no, I didn’t need it.”

“Okay… can I get you anything, like any book you want, it’s yours.”

“No, Y/N. I’m good, but thank you.” Our hands were both resting on the couch, and I wanted to grab his.

“I was really scared, Spencer.” I let out a breath I was holding.

“You've never called me Spencer before. And you were?” 

“Of course, I was. My best friend was in danger. I knew this job could be like this, but actually seeing it, it’s soul-crushing.”

“It is, there have been lots of cases that made me second-guess the whole human race. I understand if you… wanted to leave.” At that, I quickly look up.

“Leave?”

“Yeah, go get a job where the people you care about aren't in danger.” Okay, now I'm mad.

“Spencer, look at me. I am not leaving ever, period. I could never leave the guy I love.” Now Spencer was surprised.

“Love? You love me?” He sounds so shocked, it’s disheartening.

“Yes, Spencer, I don't know how you can be a genius, you can be pretty du-” I was stopped with his lips on mine. They were soft, but had been chapped for quite some time. His hand went up to my hair to keep me there, and we fit together like two puzzle pieces. We finally let go of each other, heavily breathing.

“I love you too, Y/n.” 

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There will be a part 2 with smut, so please look out for that!

[shyamanuensis]

elevators - m.r

we're back - and pretty tame. making out and fingering about as far as this pushes it. unedited. for @i-await cheers for the pick me up xoxo (2500 words)

Late. Fuck, you hated that word. Unfortunately, there was nothing else now quite fitting to describe you. The morning had been nothing short of a total blur – sleeping in past your alarm, coffee spilt by a clumsy housemate across your shirt, forgetting your textbook on the bus where you’d tried to cram in last minute psychology facts knowing you had a quiz today and now, having to make your way across campus for a tutorial that began at 9am which you were aware, attendance was taken for. To say you were cutting it close was an understatement. The ivy-covered walls of the university made it feel as if you were trapped within some kind of maze you needed to fight your way out of. The backpack slung over your shoulders was heavy; the skirt you were in probably not a totally appropriate pick for late autumn, but hey - it was the only clean thing you had in your closet.

You had three minutes. All the time in the world, right? You’d made it to building D – social sciences. Walking the lengthy corridor to where the elevators were rather than opting to take the stairs, you finally got a chance to take a few deep breaths in before the little number on the wall up high above your head lit up – the sleek silver doors slowly parting. Tapping your foot with what little patience for yourself you had left, you rolled your eyes hearing the school yard like giggle of a girl walking out past you as you stepped in. Checking your watch; now two minutes go to, you glanced up, only to freeze.

You’d played it safe all semester – perfect grades, study a priority, no scandals… all of this only possible because you’d made a point of avoiding the one person on campus that would absolutely be your undoing. Mattheo Riddle. Leaning back against the corner of the elevator; all effortless menace and infuriating charm although you’d only been in his presence for a little over 6 seconds. He’d made life hell – all through high school, all through university; one semester left to go before you graduated and you were determined to ignore him for a little longer. You had to. Your reputation depending on it.

Your pulse spiked, a sweat glistening across your skin which you were aware wasn’t because of the rush you were in this morning. His hair was messy as always, tousled as if he’d just rolled out of bed – or well, someone’s bed. The jacket he wore hung open almost picturesque over a light blue fitted shirt which didn’t match his overall aesthetic yet ugh, the way it clung to his body just hinted that there’d be lean muscle hidden underneath. His jeans were tight – fuck were they tight and of course, without having to even use your imagination you could see the outline and bulge of, fucking everything.

Mattheo glanced up from his phone. He’d been smiling at whatever it was he’d been looking at on his screen; his gaze locking onto you which saw that smile twist into a smirk – the kind you were aware was capable of leaving a trail of flushed faces across men and women alike after a night out and was now doing the same to you. Note to self – next time, take the fucking stairs.

“You running late princess?” His voice was low. God it was low and gravelly and taunting and laced with some kind of sick amusement. So much deeper than it had been a few years ago. That you could remember. You both had classes together but had barely interacted. You weren’t exactly popular back in the day and Mattheo and his friends – well, they essentially ruled over the study body with an iron fist. You were an easy target. A good girl who played nice; but you'd be lying if you hadn't thought of him in ways that would make even the greatest of sinners blush. Pocketing his phone into his jacket, Mattheo’s posture straightened as you turned your back toward him; knowing you’d be getting off in a few floors and you began to chew out of habit at your bottom lip. You could feel his eyes on you – his gaze raking over every single inch. All you could smell was coffee. Oh, how you wished you’d changed your shirt before you came in for class. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Readjusting your backpack on your shoulders, you tugged your skirt down almost nervously, tucking some hair behind your ears in an attempt to neaten it.

“Ignoring me huh?”, he continued with a chuckle. The sound, hell – it made both your skin crawl and your panties wet. “That’s a shame. Here I thought you’d make my morning more interesting.”

The elevator space felt smaller than it should have been. You gazed up at the buttons for the floors to read the manufacturer’s suggested capacity limit. 24 adults. Hell; it was like it could barely fit the two of you. Raising an eyebrow at his comment, you glanced back over your shoulder and caught him licking his lip before his eyes flickered up to yours. An amber glimmer of cockiness fluttered within them. You refused to let him rattle you. You’d gone this long without the drama he seemed to weather into the simplest of scenarios. Taking a deep breath, you let out a soft scoff and shook your head.

“I’m here for class Riddle, not to see if you’re as much trouble as everyone says you are these days.” As you shrugged, your shirt shifted, a slither of collarbone and waist exposing a much delighted appearance that only caused Mattheo’s smirk to widen.

“Trouble? No. I am so, so much worse.” His murmur didn’t have to travel far to find you, Mattheo having taken a step closer; fingers gentle to brush hair away from your neck that you hadn’t been expecting. His touch was warm. Hot. He was close enough that the cologne he wore drowned out the smell of coffee – it was rich and earthy and made your head fucking spin. “Care to find out?”

It felt like the elevator had stopped – this challenge of should you, or shouldn’t you hanging electrified between you both. The tension became amplified. You should have ignored him. Kept your mouth shut, bitten your tongue, not said a word, but oh how much that voice of his dared you to respond. To smack that cocky smirk off his face, to bring his ego down a peg or two which you damn well knew was gloating. Your breath mingled with unspoken words until finally, you managed to murmur out a response in a voice with a sultry edge you weren’t sure you’d ever heard yourself speak with before.

“Try me, Riddle.”

Mattheo didn’t hesitate. A hand shot out to wrap around your waist, tugging and turning you around as his fingers dug into your hip; pulling you flush against him only to guide you up against a wall with the other bracing up beside your head. The straps of your backpack slipped down your shoulders forcing your back to arch as it hit the floor, chest brushing hard up against his own as a whimper of a moan began to escape your lips – cut off by a kiss that was all hunger, all heat, no prelude, raw want. He tasted like mint – ugh, you couldn’t care why. Your sanity had been temporarily deactivated. You’d heard from a few people that he had this ability. Almost like seek and destroy and fuck you really couldn’t care less. Hands fisting at his jacket, you pulled him closer; the elevator doors opening and closing at another floor, but you barely noticed anyone who had stepped in. You were lost in the intoxication he delivered, the control that he demanded; his tongue claiming yours like he’d been waiting for this. For you. His hand at your hip skimmed eagerly down your thigh, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your skirt as he lifted your leg to wrap it around his waist and you let out a weak, vulnerable sounding groan which caused Mattheo to pull back. Just enough that he could rest his forehead against yours; meet you eye to eye.

“Fuck..” The word came out as more of a growl than comprehendible syllables. His breathing was ragged already. Eyes no longer that troublesome amber shade, but dark. Ready to swallow any innocence you had whole. “Going to goddamn ruin you-.”

“Not if I ruin you first.” The emphasising of your words provoking something daring within him. Within you. Hands eager to explore, you let go of his jacket, giving them all the permission that they needed to slip beneath his shirt – nails scraping across his stomach, feeling the muscles there tense under your touch. Baby blue – fuck, why would he wear such an innocent fucking colour? Hissing, Mattheo retaliated by nipping at your lip; kisses peppered along your jaw and down your neck, staking claim with bites which would bruise and be a reminder of this little rendezvous for weeks. His hand which was braced on the wall took inspiration from your own, skimming up beneath your shirt, fingers brushing to tease the edge of your bra before working its way around to your back to undo the godforsaken clasp which earned another whimper from you.

“God, you’re so fucking responsive… can’t trust the quiet ones in class.”

Class. The tutorial. You should have been there God only knows how long ago but right now you were more than content. Feeling his knee nudging between your legs sent a jolt up your spine, a heat to your core. Your thighs parted; eager for more so you managed somehow in the delusional state that you were in to rock your hips against him, chasing a friction you were eager not to lose as he groaned and tightened his grip on you. You let go of one another just long enough for your shirt to be pulled over your head recklessly; bra dropping off your shoulders the way your backpack had earlier, tits spilling out as Mattheo dropped his head to nip at your collarbone and –

“Mattheo..”

Gasping out his name like a sinner getting ready to make a confession, his lips found yours again. The kiss, drowning. You reach out to smash your palm against the emergency stop button beside the elevator door and feel the metal cage grind to a halt causing you to fumble momentarily.

“Bold move sweetheart. You want me that bad huh? Right here? Beg for it…”

Please – like he was really going to make you beg. Like he had that kind of power when it was you – now calling the shots. You were the one who stopped the elevator, you were the one who kissed him like you needed it for survival, you were the one who was going to walk away satisfied. You manage to nod, still breathless; hands quick to roam down his chest, tugging at the damned leather belt he wore which was just another hurdle to leap, causing him to again, hiss.

“I. Don’t. Beg.”, you managed just between shaky breaths. Voice filled with a need you were happy to try and deny as you lazily kissed against his neck. Your eyes opening just, all you saw was blue – fucking light baby blue and holy shit more denim than right now was necessary. You tried to undo his belt; fiddle with the buckle, pull down that zipper which would open a pandoras box of fucking delight but weren’t able to. Not with how you pinned you back further; hands exploring beneath your skirt and up your thighs, fingers impatient to push past the dampened fabric you wore causing you to moan. Making the most of your parted lips, Mattheo quickly slipped two fingers into your mouth, a lowly ‘suck’ commanded which you obliged before he pried them out of your mouth and let them find their way back to where they had been, sliding inside you, making you bite your tongue to help stifle another moan. Your world inside this metal box had been reduced to him. To him? Fuck – why him. Fuck him? Perhaps.

“M-Ma-Mattheo…” The whimper is pathetic. Your hands grip at his shoulders in a weak attempt to keep you upright as he watches you fall apart on just his fingers curling into you. You’re rocking against his hand, spluttering and stuttering and grinding your teeth together to try and not make a sound but you’re panting like a god damn animal so loud it’s a surprise half the university can’t hear you

“Shhhh”, he calms you with a kiss before his free hand clasps over your mouth; muffling any sounds you make as his fingers push you closer and closer to the edge. “…if you’re like this with my fingers just imagine what my cock could do.”

Eyes glistening; you feel them roll back as his thumb finds your clit, drawing circles against it relentlessly that cause you shatter; breath hitched, chest heaving, a pleasure crashing through you that’s made you forget anything and everything you needed for your quiz later today – drawing out an aftershock that forces you limp, a cry groaned into his palm that almost sends him weak. Head falling down to rest against his shoulder you curse yourself internally for giving into this. Mattheo on the other hand chuckles. Its infuriating. It’s hot. It’s… ugh, why the fuck did he have to wear blue? Taking a half step back, he pulls his fingers from you, licking them clean with a smile that sends a whole new wave of heat and need through you.

“You taste like heaven sweetheart.”

His eyes never leave yours and they don’t have to. You’ll be having dreams of this for weeks. You’re craving more. You need more. You need him. Fuck. Your hands move to his belt again, hand slipping down past the denim he’s still got on to graze against him but he catches your wrist just as the elevator jolts; a warning beep sounding because someone on another level is trying to call it. You freeze. Your breath should still be mingling with his but suddenly the risk of someone knowing what you’re both up to slams you down into reality and perspective.

“Looks like we’re out of time; unless you wanna give whoevers waiting a show?”

You glance at your watch – 9.06am. God.

Pushing him back, you fix your skirt, reclasp your bra, scoop your shirt up off the floor and pull it back on – it’s inside out but fuck it, it hides the coffee stain better this way. Mattheo smirks; a huff escaping him almost too satisfactory as the elevator begins to move the two of you still temporarily trapped in sin.

“Next time.” They’re the only words you’re able to utter.

“Next time”, he repeats; a quick kiss pressed to your temple to remind you that he just embodies the meaning and description of trouble.

The doors slide open at the level which you both need revealing a swarm of students, chatting away which stops when they catch the sight of you. Dishevelled, flustered, shirt on inside out, skirt not straight, Mattheo next to you, all smirks. It’s clear they know of his reputation. He steps out first, the crowd parting like he owns the place, and you slip by right behind him, trying to ignore their stares as your heart is racing. You’ll never know what you missed those first few minutes of the tutorial but hell... you’ll never look an elevator the same way again.

[shadowsrulemymind]

Its been roughly two years since Trigun Stampede ended and I think I figured out the whole "Nai" vs "Kni" spelling thing;

Throughout all 12 eps his name is spelled "Nai" in the subtitles but "Kni" in the computer system and I don't think either spelling is a mistake.

TRIMAX SPOILERS!!

The main thing that confused me about the name thing was that the data entries existed AT ALL, Rem made it very clear that she wanted to hide the fact that Vash and Knives were plants so why on earth would she input them in the system LABELED as plants??

Because she didn't.

If Rem didn't make those data entries then who did? It sure would be really convenient if there was another person that we know ended up waking up and meeting the twins while they were still on the ships huh?

Oh WAIT!

While we haven't gotten the scene of Conrad meeting the twins in Stampede we know for a FACT he did because when Knives finds him after the fall he calls him by NAME and acts relieved to see him even going so far as to run to him like he was going to give Knives a hug;

I think Conrad was the one to input the twins into the Project Type-T data base and that Rem never even knew he did this.

'but why would Conrad do that?'

Because Conrad wanted to study them and never actually saw them as more then new test subjects.

The thing is that I don't think Conrad actually feels remorse for what he did to Tesla. He doesn't regret killing her because she was a child who was sentient and felt pain-

He regrets killing his most valuable science project.

Right now we only have one photo of Tesla when she was still alive and she was clearly around the same age of the twins when she finally died from the abuse she suffered.

Tesla looks so empty while Conrad looks content, happy and proud.

Conrad never felt an ounce of doubt about what he was doing to Tesla when she was alive, it was only after the abuse was too much and her body failed did he suddenly start feeling regret.

He killed his test subject before he was done with it and that's what he really regretted.

So when he met the twins he realized he had two more chances to get to study an independent and made their data entries;

The reason why it's spelled "Kni" is because Conrad was trying to spell a name he'd only ever heard, he couldn't just ask Rem how to spell it so he based the spelling on what he thought Rem named him after; his KNIVES. Conrad thought it was supposed to be a shortened version of knives and thus wrote is as Kni.

But it ISN'T.

His name actually IS spelled Nai.

If you look up the name Kni pretty much nothing comes up, Nai however-

The first culture I found Nai attached to was African; In Swahili it means 'purpose' or 'aim' while in Nigerian Igbo it means 'mother' or 'motherhood' which fits Knives perfectly.

But I wanted to check to see if Nai had a Japanese meaning and the closest I found was Chinese origins that's commonly used for girls with Japanese roots;

The name Nai is made up of two elements, Na and I. Na has multiple meanings such as green, vegetables, many, and APPLE TREE-

NAI BASICALLY MEANS APPLE TREE

HIS NAME MEANS APPLE TREE

Honestly I would have been content considering this a crack theory based on a spelling error but knowing that Nai is a name that actually has a meaning that can be considered FORESHADOWING???

There's literally no way this was an accident.

I also think the person who did the subtitles was told how to write their names because I can't find Elendira being a previously existing name outside of Trigun and I'd assume they'd need to be told how to spell the names but I can't find proof of that so-

If you got this far thank you so much for reading because I figured this out like a couple of months ago and have been freaking out over it ever since.

Sources:

https://www.momjunction.com/baby-names/nai/

https://namediscoveries.com/names/nai

[dandelionflowery]

i love finding out how other countries do this cause france so far seems the hardest to explain lol

with that in mind; apologies, this got long lol

In middle school, you have to take french, english, a second (french doesn't count apparently) language (often german or spanish, sometimes mandarin or italian or others), maths, sports, history-geography-"Moral and Civic Education" (which is all done by the same teacher and can't be seperated), physics-chemistry (same teacher for both, the difference between the two is not emphasized so i still only vaguely know what's physics and what's chemistry), "sciences of life and the earth" (biology + geology, same teacher), "technology" (computer science + we often made cool little things, either 3d printed, or by hand), music, art, and something called class life which is basically just all the boring administrative stuff.

All of those are mandatory, and on top of that you can add latin (or ancient greek possibly? depending on the school) and/or a "euro" language, which is basically an extra hour of your second language.

*

In high school, things get more complex bc you get to choose some options, and it varies per year. (for the record middle school is 4 years, highschool is 3 years: seconde, première, terminale which in british terms I think is Years 11-13? and in american it's grades 10-12)

The first year, you have to do french, english, a second language (the one you chose in middle school usually), maths, sports, history-geography-moral/civic education, physics-chemistry, sciences of life and the earth, social and economic sciences (same teacher for both), computer science but with a different name and without all the hands on stuff (often taught by physics teachers for some reason)

You can choose to add latin, ancient greek, a third language or art to that, but only one of these i think

*

The second year, you have to do french, english, a second language (the one you chose in middle school usually), maths, sports, history-geography-moral/civic education, physics-chemistry, sciences of life and the earth, and choose three "specialties" from a rather long list (that can vary slightly based on schools):

HGGSP: Histoire-géographie, géopolitique et sciences politiques, akahistory-geography, political science and social studies/HLP: Humanités, littérature et philosophie, aka humanities, literature and philosophy (oo it's almost the same words in both languages)/LLCE: Langues, littératures et cultures étrangères, aka English (lit. languages, literatures and foreign cultures but it's really just English class)/AMC: Anglais monde contemporain, aka English again (lit. English contemporary world and again it's just English class)/Mathématiques - transparent/Physique-chimie: Physics and chemistry/SVT: Sciences de la vie et de la Terre, aka "Sciences of life and the earth" aka Biology + Geology/SES: Sciences économiques et sociales, aka economics and social sciences/NSI: Numériques et sciences informatiques, aka computer science/Arts (arts plastiques, cinéma-audiovisuel, histoire des arts): The list I found with all the names of these spécialités (bc they're only ever referred to by their acronyms) has art be split up like that [technically there were more but i cut them lol] which is weird bc I've never seen art history be separated from actually-making-art (arts plastiques-- Why are they plastic I have no idea) and I didn't think cinema had art history

The most common combos are physics-chem/biology-geology/maths or HGGSP/HLP/SES, but you can mix and match as you want. (this does mean that since there's both specialty and mandatory phys/chem and bio/geology classes, a lot of people get very bored in the mandatory classes cause they've already studied the things we see but at a higher level cause there's more hours in the specialties then the mandatory stuff) (however, for maths, either you take the maths specialty or you get an hour and a half per week of math)

Generally if you took an optional thing the first year, you can choose to keep it or stop it at the beginning of the second year.

*

The third year, french switches to philosophy* (it's so booooring but my teacher is also incompetent lmao), you have to keep both english and the second language, you also can't get rid of history-geography-moral/civic education, physics-chemistry or sciences of life and the earth.

*because you do part of the baccalaureate, the part on french, at the end of the second year

You have to choose one of the specialties to "abandon" so that instead of having, say, 4 hours of biology (and geology), 4 hours of computer science and 4 hours of art; you have 6 of biology (and geology) and 6 of art.

Now maths gets two whole paragraphs to itself because there's so many different maths classes ToT

If maths is not one of your three specialties the second year, in the third year you have no (0) maths classes (Yay!!). [according to google, you can actually do one of the things i'll mention in a sec, but let's be real: if you didn't take maths as a specialty, you probably don't want to take extra maths classes lol] If maths is one of the specialties you keep, then you have 6 hours of maths per week. If maths is the specialty you abandon, you have three options:

Accept that you have no more maths classes, and rejoice in your newfound "free" time.

Choose to continue some maths, to help for physics or economy usually. The level of the class seems to be pretty low, but it's still mostly people who took a year of more complex maths so this is rather relative. [this is where you can theoretically start maths classes again if you didn't choose it as a specialty at all; but you would be with people who did way more advanced math than you so that's probably why idk anyone who does that lol]

Choose to do harder maths* because you're absolutely insane /aff * actually maybe this option is for people who still have maths as a specialty, which means 9 hours of maths per week holy shit- i don't really know anyone who does that so I'm not quite sure now, cause the french government website is... not easy to navigate lol

(In case you can't tell, I didn't choose maths as a specialty lol)

**

also is your religion class learning about all the world's religions or is it religion as in learning how to be a good church goer?

okay very important question did you take history or geography in school?

nope😓😓 French, art, and food tech

[kaisentine]

compression shirts and itoshi rin needs to be listed as a cause for heart attacks.

some might say they’re a deadly duo.

and you most certainly could agree with that statement since you’ve experienced first hand.

rin walks past you and you notice from the blurry figure that he’s wearing an unfamiliar shirt that looks way tighter than what he usually opts for. as per usual, you call out to him, “where you goin’?” you ask, still not looking up from your phone screen.

he almost scoffs at the stupidly obvious question. “where you do you think?” he rolls his eyes, turning to face you—that’s where you get the full image and oh my word.

stupid ass grey sweatpants he always wears and that unfamiliar tight shirt that was on your mind—a freaking compression shirt!

“i—oh…” your mouth widens to an ‘o’ shape once you finally comprehend everything. it’s almost surreal but you could imagine him wearing it one day—but not this day! “what?” “when did you get that?” “it was just in my closet.”

he shrugs. HE SHRUGS.

like no big deal, he’s off to wherever.

you can’t help but roll around after he’s already left you alone with you thoughts—your thoughts of how him being a gym FREAK and an athletic fuck really has an impact on you.

oh yeah, you’re totally gonna die soon.

and why the fuck did he never tell you he had a black compression shirt in his closet.

sticky note. this man is a walking heart attack cause

[markscherz]

I put it to you that Scaphiophryne marmorata is peak frog.

Why?

Well first, it's pretty round, which is key.

Now get a load of those fingers.

Big, expanded discs at the end, ideal for climbing.

But what's happening back there with those toes? No discs there. Those are good for walking and hopping around on the ground.

Now, let's gently turn them over

First, excellent tum, 17 out of 10, no notes.

But what's that at the base of the foot? Those big projections? Yep, those are spades. This climbing, hopping frog is an excellent digger!

I like to think of these Scaphiophryne as all-terrain frogs. They're basically good at everything. They defy our categorical labels of 'arboreal', 'terrestrial', or 'fossorial', and say 'por qué no los tres?'—but in Malagasy, so 'nahoana no tsy izy telo?'

[inkyrainstorms]

I saw this post and had a vision @aroace-get-out-of-my-face

This will end in horrible bloodshed I fear

Individuals under cut!

[lethroe]

Your definition is what is required to consider a hate group such under law. I personally don't see the need to classify it as such as we aren't dealing in legality. This is where I got my information from. This page also brings into consideration the existence of internet hate groups. Don't even start arguing with me on whether wiki is a reliable source. If you don't think its reliable then go to their citation page.

In terms of systematic power, we see this with the capitalistic control of diagnosis and the systematic process of scientific study tangled with oligarchal funding.

I disagree on your point regarding which systems can identify as disordered. Things can exist outside of scientific recognition as well as defined labels. I personally don't care to confine someone to a definition or identity.

As for your comment on religious systems, anti-endos can absolutely be biased and discriminatory towards more than just religious systems as some systems can be considered a practice and all systems can be considered a designated sector of society or even a social group. Therefore, endogenic systems can be oppressed and discriminated against. I never said any other group was inherently plural but even so, endogenics can be hated on for any regard. Before sexuality and gender were included in the minority list, they weren't considered something that could be discriminated against because they could "change their circumstances" and "just stop being gay". Just because endos aren't listed doesn't mean that they can't be discriminated against just as much as spirituality can be discriminated against despite not being on that list.

The reason I brought up religious plurality is because anti-endo includes religious plurality and is therefore discriminatory to religious plurality. This could consider anti-endo to be discriminatory towards religious practices.

I already clarified that we are using two separate definitions, so I don't feel I need to address that. I also brought up that internet hate groups are beginning to be considered. Think of it like the idea of online bullying being debated as well as sexual abuse online being debated.

I also disagree that endos can't be discriminated against in society in a way that traumagenics aren't. We see this by the lack of acceptance of any or almost everyone outside of plurality whereas there are at least some that aren't plural that accept medically recognised systems. This is also obvious with disordered non-traumagenics not getting accommodations or formal diagnosis that would improve quality of life.

Your next paragraph is just sysmedicalist rhetoric. I'm referring to someone with endogenic plurality that greatly or moderately effects quality of life or ability to function. I'm not referring to the presence of other disorders.

I see that this situation with those people upsets you but I’m uncomfortable talking about that. I don’t know them and I don’t feel it’s my place to debate on it. I do have sympathy for you but I didn’t read much as I almost felt like I was intruding.

Anti-endos traumagenic systems to me are very similar in terms of placing and structure to transphobic trans people who separate themselves from the trans people they don't find valid by referring to themselves as transsexual as a way to gain favour of non-trans transphobes. The thing anti-endos have is the favour of some singlets as well as diagnosis and accommodation. That something that they absolutely have privilege over.

I'd also like to bring up that by engaging in this conversation, you are engaging in syscourse which makes you a syscourser.

I would like to restate my original point that anti-endos are inherently more harmful that pro-endos as one ideology is inclusion where the other is exclusion.

So, thank you for this conversation but I do believe our Carrd now includes the DNI of sysmeds. We can continue this conversation, but I don't think any more needs to be said on my part and that I probably will just be repeating myself. If you no longer want to continue this conversation but don't think you can keep your opinions to yourself, then I request that you no longer participate on my page as I am a safe place for those that don't fit sysmedical standards and will not concede or change my stance on such.

- Appa, Asmodeus, Hasan, Lucifer

The thing is that as a disordered traumagenic system I’ve never been belittled, treated like shit, had my trauma minimised and harassed by endos but I have been by anti endos and fakeclaimers.

So who is the more harmful group? Remind me?

[stuck-writing-sickos]

In Poor Taste [P2]

[Series Link]

(Yandere x Reader)

[Warning: misogyny, xenophobia, hint to racism, explicit language, asshole male lead]

You were never crazy about spoiled rich men. They were nothing but troubles.

He knew your type. Quiet, agreeable, and a little bit of a pushover.

He didn't say it, but he had noticed your lack of reaction when Tahara revoked your right to the summer break. Truth was, he never paid attention to women like you when he was in college. The quiet ones who took things seriously as if they had something to lose, those were hard to get. He never bothered with those who were hard to get when there were plenty of other options. He liked the sunkissed  blondes who knew to dress up in white sundresses and spaghetti straps, those who knew to party on Saturday and yoga class on Sunday. They never put up a hard fight, just the right amount, and when he got bored so did they. In and out of his bedroom they whirled, whimsical and effortless. He never bothered to find out if they were smart or complicated, and if they tried to show him, he'd move on to the next. A part of him felt bad, but the encouraging jokes and nudges of his frat brothers overrode that twinge in his chest when he saw sad eyes following him down the campus walkway. It didn't matter, not if he got the liquor and summer yatch trips.

He also liked other types. Soft-spoken brunettes who listened to sad songs and doodled hearts onto his notes. Fierce raven-haired girls who knew to throw back shots and moved their bodies to the music. The rich exchange girls who, despite their attitudes, knew their ways around his body and submitted to his rhythm. He liked them all because he could consume them, so he said he support women. Those he didn't like, well, they were on their own.

So he didn't mind that you were older and reserved. True, he never bothered with women like you because he thought he could do without them, but now that he was in Tokyo all alone, he could see your values. So, he thought to look.

You were the serious type. Soft-spoken, patient, and reserved. You looked after yourself rather dilligently - your clothes fit well, and you smelled of subtle floral perfume. Your movement when you walked around the school were gentle but decisive - you knew what to do, and you did it quick, as if you always had something better to do. A part of him didn't like that. For why, he didn't interrogate. "Why" was never a questioned he bothered with, since he could do well for the first 22 years of his life without it. When someone always get what they want, they hardly ever want to know "why".

He knew he was brash and bold to ask you out for dinner, but he assumed you knew the implication. He was interested enough. You had a fine body, and you knew how to look good. "Late bloomer" was what he liked to call women like you, the type who took themselves too seriously in school, but then learnt how to be pretty in their latter years. They would know how to relax, to not be so uptight.

So there he sat in a booth at a restaurant downtown, waiting, a little impatient to see that you were late. Perhaps he was to blame to tell you to take your time and freshen up at home. He wondered if you would doll up. Where would you show your skin? Where would you shave? He liked it shaved. His fingers toyed with the small tea cup, tapping its side and running down the curve of its rim.

"Hi! Sorry for the wait... I was caught up with a phone call."

He looked up. There you were, smiling down at him. He shamelessly looked at your body, studying the way the nice dress pants accentuate your hip and ass. Then, as you sat down, he took notes of your off-shoulder top, then the blink of your earrings. You may tried to make it seem innocuous, but he could tell. You dressed up for him.

"Not at all! I just got here."

You kept your smile on. He didn't notice that it was manufactured. He was caught up watching you leaning forward, your fingers flipping over the menu. The way your cleavage was catching shadow captured his attention.

"So, how is Tokyo treating you?"

He didn't think you would speak first. You barely humored any small talks during the day, only giving him just enough.

"It's good, it's good", he mused, "I'm enjoying the new culture and people. It's all very new to me, so I'm excited."

You looked up at him now, your eyes narrowing as your smile widened.

"It's a great city. There's always something to look at. Do you ever miss your friends and family, though?"

He leaned in as well, closing the gap. He could see you flinch just barely as his fluffy black curls almost tickle your forehead.

"Well, of course. I miss my family a lot, especially my sister. She's applying for college soon, and I wish I could be there to support her, you know?"

"You have a sister?"

He was pleased to see you following the script so far. Girls were often intrigued by the fact that he had a sister - it means he grew up knowing how to be sensitive and protective. It was a reliable card to play.

"Yeah, we grew up quite close, you know. I still remember her crying like a baby when I left for college", he chuckled, "now it's her turn."

You laughed softly at that.

"Yeah... she must be so sad to see you go to Japan, right?"

He nods, his eyes flickering between your face and your neck, eager to peer right down your top. You must be wearing those stick-on nipple covers to rock a top like that.

"Oh, she was, but she's more excited to be independent in college. Too excited, to be honest. I had to warn her not to get in troubles."

"What kind of trouble?"

He found himself looking at your lips now. Your gentle voice and soft gaze managed to distract him. For a second, he found himself pausing to stare.

"Oh... alcohol, drugs, bad friends. You know the deal."

"Did you get into troubles in college, too?"

The simple question now seemed so implicative. He swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing, and he saw that you looked. Your lashes flutterred for a second before your eyes met his.

Empty.

You were harder to read than he thought. Perhaps it was the age difference, he wondered, or the fact that your naturally composed attitude had sealed your attraction toward him. He never hit on an older woman before, so he supposed it was only natural that he couldn't catch your energy right away. Or were you secretly experienced? Three years seemed little to him at first, but he suddenly felt self-conscious at your still demeanor. You were still smiling and expectant, but in a different way than he imagined. You were yet to be doe-eyed, yet to melt when she heard about his bond with his sister. How many men had had their ways with you? Did you please them well? Did you moved and squirm under their touch? He felt himself heating up.

"Good afternoon, dear customers. May I take your order?"

He almost jumped. You didn't. Awkwardly pointing to the menu, he glanced at you who quickly said your orders. You seemed comfortable.

Did he lose his edge?

The waiter swiftly left. Lukas felt that the chemistry was disrupted. His keen eyes watched your form pulling back away from him, and he caught the faint perfume wafting his way. He decided to keep his posture forward, staying on the offensive side.

"I guess I did get into some troubles", he admitted, his hand instinctively rubbing the nape of his neck, as if to conceal what his clothes couldn't. His skin was warm to the touch.

"Well, what kind?"

He couldn't tell if you were interested. You were asking him lots of questions, even from the start. Did you want to know more about him?

"Oh, we were crazy. One time, a pledge covered himself in lighter fluid and lit himself on fire before jumping into the pool."

"Ah... so the typical frat bros stuff. I guess I've seen something like that at X. Uni", you nodded, your smile turning a bit cheeky.

He shifted even closer.

"Yeah, we were bad boys. Were you in a sorrority? Greek life is big at X."

You shook yout head slowly.

"No... It seemed very fun, but I guess I was too focused on other stuff."

"What stuff?"

"I was trying to keep my scholarship, so that took most of my time, I guess. I wasn't too involved with student life aside trom the school's art magazine."

"So you are a smartie?"

You hung your head humbly.

"I guess you could say that."

"So what did you do to blow off steam, then? Or were you at the library all day?"

He felt just a bit desperate trying to know you. He knew his bombarding questions were coming off a little strong, but he didn't want to feel exposed and insecure anymore. He had opened up, he thought it would be fair if you let him in a little. Wind down, be less uptight.

"I went to Ellum sometimes."

Ellum, the bar street. So you knew how to party after all. Maybe you did have experiences with men.

"Oh, me and my boys liked it there."

"For troubles?"

He laughed.

"For troubles, yeah. It'd be crazy if we met and never knew it."

"Well, it was all dark and loud in there. Maybe we did."

"Then it's fate."

He felt corny saying it, but the words slipped out anyway. His heart twisted when you laughed at that, your chest vibrating. You lifted your hand to cover your smile, and he saw a glimpse of ink as your top pulled against your shoulder. Tattoos, huh? He didn't peg you as the type to get them.

Seeing that it was his chance, he reached over to adjust the fabric, his fingertips lingering just a moment too long. He felt it, the electric as he felt your cool skin against his own. You were soft and smooth, like a nice spread of butter against crispy toast.

"Oh, my bad, I just saw your shirt falling off a little there."

Your laugh dwindled. You touched where he touched, your chest rising and lowering at a slower beat.

Lukas found himself feeling expectant.

"Ah, well, thank you", you said, your voice more relaxed now. That was a good sign.

The waiters came back with the orders and left just as hurriedly.

"I have a question", Lukas mused, somehow anxious to lose your attention when you reached for your utensils.

"Pray tell."

"What's the best food place that you've ever been in Tokyo?"

He winced internally. Corny and immature, that was what he was being. What a 17-year-old first date question that was.

"I'd say the unlabelled streetfood carts at the open-air markets", you said, your finger resting on your chin for a moment, "I like to go there if I ever have to stay late at work."

"You gotta show me sometimes, then. I love streetfood!"

He felt stupid clawing at any ways he could to compel your interest. You were right there, laughing at his jokes, asking about his family, paying attention to him. Yet somehow he still felt like you were distant, somewhere in an invisible fish bowl, and what he had said to you were muffled through the water and glass.

"Of course, I'd be happy to. But let me know if you are allergic to anything, or if you are scared of seafood."

"Not at all", he confidently shook his head, "I went to Italy last summer, and the seafood was amazing!"

"Trip across Europe?"

"Trip across Europe", he nodded, "I'd say, Italy for best seafood, France for best wine, Germany for best beer, and Netherlands for the best, well, you know..."

You playfully rolled your eyes.

"I see you like to travel."

"Oh, it changes my whole perspective. I really found myself, you know. It's like... I come back a whole different person. I think everyone should travel."

You gave him a strange look. Not a scowl nor a frown. A gentle squint of the eyes. It could be anything. He couldn't decide if he was being too boastful, or if he had said something wrong. Did you not like that? Maybe you hadn't been as well-travelled as he was, and what he said had come across as unrelatable.

"But of course, you know, if your money allows it. It doesn't cost as much as you think if you know how to budget."

The playful twinkle in your eyes told him that you were responding to him, and likely not negatively. Still, he felt more stupid adding on to what he said. He didn't know why, but he felt as though you were looking down on him.

Why would you look down on him?

Lukas may not realize it, but this was one of the rare occasions when he let the "why" bother him.

"Of course, travelling can be great. I haven't travelled much, but I imagine that when I have enough money, I would travel. I have a few places in mind."

"Where to?"

"For starter, Norway."

Weird answer.

"What's in Norway?"

"The aurora borealis."

He furrowed his brows.

"You want to see the northern light?"

"More than anything."

"It doesn't cost that much though."

"Yeah, but solo travelling costs more, I imagine."

"I can go with you."

He felt decidedly stupid and overconfident.

"Wouldn't that be something...", you commented, your eyes casting aside, "well, that's my top destination for sure."

You were growing cold again. Lukas couldn't for the life of him figure out where he was going wrong. Maybe you just weren't attracted to him, but that was unlikely. He knew how good he looked. He may have heard "sorry I have a boyfriend" and "I'm looking for something serious", but he couldn't think of a time when someone had admitted to him not being their type. Not even behind his back.

"Also, you seem to like to drink. Two out of the four places you mentioned was about alcohol."

He didn't expect you to pick up on the conversation. Maybe he simply had gotten into his head.

"Oh, I guess. I did drink a lot in college, but that's just what it was all about, you know?"

"About troubles, I know."

He felt his face growing hot.

"Right... well, I'd love to know what other Japanese drinks are like, too. I've tasted sake, but it was mild. I'm more of a beer and shots guy."

"Wine, too, right? In France."

You had not once lost your composure. He felt like he was squirming in his seat. He wanted to sleep with you, that was clear. He needed to know what it was like to get with someone older than him, even if it was a mere three years. What would you be like in bed? What did you learn from all the men from your past? The unphased facade, the tattoo, the way you maintained your calm upon his touch and his banter... you knew something he didn't. You had experienced things he hadn't.

"Right, that. Do you drink at all? Here, in Japan, I mean."

"Sometimes."

"Hey, it's a Friday night. Do you maybe want to grab a drink at a pub somewhere after this?"

You raised an eyebrow at him, incredulous. He knew he was being brash and bold, but he couldn't help it. You were something he wanted to add to his collection.

Letting you mull over it, he watched your calm face.

"Sure...", you softly agreed, "but only for a little while."

"Something coming up tomorrow?"

Someone to see tomorrow?

Your blank eyes glimmered under the flourescent light for a second. He almost wanted to hold his breath.

"Just some personal affair in the afternoon."

There you go being elusive again. He thought he would have had you in his palm by now, but not yet. Maybe he didn't know your type.