#what happens when a law student has real world case studies to do?

[spearsndragons]

i hate it when asoiaf fans try to deny the racism against dornish people in canon.

“race is a social construct!” YES! “race doesn’t exist in the asoiaf world like it does in reality…” uhhh say that to alleras when leo tyrell described his mom as “a monkey from the summer isles.” how people stereotype dornishmen as small and dark with beady eyes. how tyrion complained of how dornish smelled. it’s been established canonically how most westerosi characters viewed non-white people and foreigners.

sure, some of dornish are white and white-passing, but that doesn’t erase the fact that they are mostly brown and black people??? just like how africa, middle east, asia, latin america and many oppressed regions are? GRRM has written MANY, MANY times how much the rest of westeros “other”s them. we’ve seen them reduce dorne as a land of sex and hedonism, which parallels to how the western world viewed (and many still view) asia and the middle east. they see them as “less civilized.”

when myriah martell became daeron’s wife, the kingdoms were quick to shit on her because she brought dornish people to her court. when elia married rhaegar, people thought she was unworthy to marry the beloved, handsome, white prince because of her health and her dornishness.

don’t get me started on the whole “elia would have been okay being cheated on! dornish are okay with extramarital affairs and bastards!” like do you guys not hear yourself??? this hyper-sexualization is literally a classic racist trope.

and i’m certain grrm intended to write it this way to show that racism, in fact, exists in westerosi life and dominates in their politics, just as in real life. he’s even said before he considered giving targaryens dark skin: “I’d had dark-skinned dragonlords invade and conquer and dominate a largely white Westeros.” so him making dorne, a largely non-white population, being the only one to resist conquest and the only kingdom to join westeros on their own terms, is very much intended.

too many fucking fans reduce our arguments to us “pulling the race card.” well guess what? BECAUSE IT MATTERS. just as racism is embedded in our society, everything about how this fandom and characters view dorne go back to race and racism. just because you can’t admit to yourself that you’re upholding white supremacy ideals doesn’t mean it’s not happening.

YOU CANNOT DENY THAT RACE AND CULTURE ARE IMPORTANT ELEMENTS IN ASOIAF.

DORNE BEST KINGDOM! MARTELL BEST HOUSE! IDC IDC! WHO ELSE IN WESTEROS SAID FUCK YOU TO THEIR COLONIZERS AND LIVED TO TELL THE TALE?

(i can say more on the matter but i will just get more heated and end up writing a 10 page essay. when i tell you the law student in me comes alive when i have to defend dorne-)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Amazon’s financial shell game let it create an “impossible” monopoly

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in TUCSON (Mar 9-10), then San Francisco (Mar 13), Anaheim, and more!

For the pro-monopoly crowd that absolutely dominated antitrust law from the Carter administration until 2020, Amazon presents a genuinely puzzling paradox: the company's monopoly power was never supposed to emerge, and if it did, it should have crumbled immediately.

Pro-monopoly economists embody Ely Devons's famous aphorism that "If economists wished to study the horse, they wouldn’t go and look at horses. They’d sit in their studies and say to themselves, ‘What would I do if I were a horse?’":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/27/economism/#what-would-i-do-if-i-were-a-horse

Rather than using the way the world actually works as their starting point for how to think about it, they build elaborate models out of abstract principles like "rational actors." The resulting mathematical models are so abstractly elegant that it's easy to forget that they're just imaginative exercises, disconnected from reality:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/03/all-models-are-wrong/#some-are-useful

These models predicted that it would be impossible for Amazon to attain monopoly power. Even if they became a monopoly – in the sense of dominating sales of various kinds of goods – the company still wouldn't get monopoly power.

For example, if Amazon tried to take over a category by selling goods below cost ("predatory pricing"), then rivals could just wait until the company got tired of losing money and put prices back up, and then those rivals could go back to competing. And if Amazon tried to keep the loss-leader going indefinitely by "cross-subsidizing" the losses with high-margin profits from some other part of its business, rivals could sell those high margin goods at a lower margin, which would lure away Amazon customers and cut the supply lines for the price war it was fighting with its discounted products.

That's what the model predicted, but it's not what happened in the real world. In the real world, Amazon was able use its access to the capital markets to embark on scorched-earth predatory pricing campaigns. When diapers.com refused to sell out to Amazon, the company casually committed $100m to selling diapers below cost. Diapers.com went bust, Amazon bought it for pennies on the dollar and shut it down:

https://www.theverge.com/2019/5/13/18563379/amazon-predatory-pricing-antitrust-law

Investors got the message: don't compete with Amazon. They can remain predatory longer than you can remain solvent.

Now, not everyone shared the antitrust establishment's confidence that Amazon couldn't create a durable monopoly with market power. In 2017, Lina Khan – then a third year law student – published "Amazon's Antitrust Paradox," a landmark paper arguing that Amazon had all the tools it needed to amass monopoly power:

https://www.yalelawjournal.org/note/amazons-antitrust-paradox

Today, Khan is chair of the FTC, and has brought a case against Amazon that builds on some of the theories from that paper. One outcome of that suit is an unprecedented look at Amazon's internal operations. But, as the Institute for Local Self-Reliance's Stacy Mitchell describes in a piece for The Atlantic, key pieces of information have been totally redacted in the court exhibits:

https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2024/02/amazon-profits-antitrust-ftc/677580/

The most important missing datum: how much money Amazon makes from each of its lines of business. Amazon's own story is that it basically breaks even on its retail operation, and keeps the whole business afloat with profits from its AWS cloud computing division. This is an important narrative, because if it's true, then Amazon can't be forcing up retail prices, which is the crux of the FTC's case against the company.

Here's what we know for sure about Amazon's retail business. First: merchants can't live without Amazon. The majority of US households have Prime, and 90% of Prime households start their ecommerce searches on Amazon; if they find what they're looking for, they buy it and stop. Thus, merchants who don't sell on Amazon just don't sell. This is called "monopsony power" and it's a lot easier to maintain than monopoly power. For most manufacturers, a 10% overnight drop in sales is a catastrophe, so a retailer that commands even a 10% market-share can extract huge concessions from its suppliers. Amazon's share of most categories of goods is a lot higher than 10%!

What kind of monopsony power does Amazon wield? Well, for one thing, it is able to levy a huge tax on its sellers. Add up all the junk-fees Amazon charges its platform sellers and it comes out to 45-51%:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos

Competitive businesses just don't have 45% margins! No one can afford to kick that much back to Amazon. What is a merchant to do? Sell on Amazon and you lose money on every sale. Don't sell on Amazon and you don't get any business.

The only answer: raise prices on Amazon. After all, Prime customers – the majority of Amazon's retail business – don't shop for competitive prices. If Amazon wants a 45% vig, you can raise your Amazon prices by a third and just about break even.

But Amazon is wise to that: they have a "most favored nation" rule that punishes suppliers who sell goods more cheaply in rival stores, or even on their own site. The punishments vary, from banishing your products to page ten million of search-results to simply kicking you off the platform. With publishers, Amazon reserves the right to lower the prices they set when listing their books, to match the lowest price on the web, and paying publishers less for each sale.

That means that suppliers who sell on Amazon (which is anyone who wants to stay in business) have to dramatically hike their prices on Amazon, and when they do, they also have to hike their prices everywhere else (no wonder Prime customers don't bother to search elsewhere for a better deal!).

Now, Amazon says this is all wrong. That 45-51% vig they claim from business customers is barely enough to break even. The company's profits – they insist – come from selling AWS cloud service. The retail operation is just a public service they provide to us with cross-subsidy from those fat AWS margins.

This is a hell of a claim. Last year, Amazon raked in $130 billion in seller fees. In other words: they booked more revenue from junk fees than Bank of America made through its whole operation. Amazon's junk fees add up to more than all of Meta's revenues:

https://s2.q4cdn.com/299287126/files/doc_financials/2023/q4/AMZN-Q4-2023-Earnings-Release.pdf

Amazon claims that none of this is profit – it's just covering their operating expenses. According to Amazon, its non-AWS units combined have a one percent profit margin.

Now, this is an eye-popping claim indeed. Amazon is a public company, which means that it has to make thorough quarterly and annual financial disclosures breaking down its profit and loss. You'd think that somewhere in those disclosures, we'd find some details.

You'd think so, but you'd be wrong. Amazon's disclosures do not break out profits and losses by segment. SEC rules actually require the company to make these per-segment disclosures:

https://scholarship.law.stjohns.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=3524&context=lawreview#:~:text=If%20a%20company%20has%20more,income%20taxes%20and%20extraordinary%20items.

That rule was enacted in 1966, out of concern that companies could use cross-subsidies to fund predatory pricing and other anticompetitive practices. But over the years, the SEC just…stopped enforcing the rule. Companies have "near total managerial discretion" to lump business units together and group their profits and losses in bloated, undifferentiated balance-sheet items:

https://www.ucl.ac.uk/bartlett/public-purpose/publications/2021/dec/crouching-tiger-hidden-dragons

As Mitchell points you, it's not just Amazon that flouts this rule. We don't know how much money Google makes on Youtube, or how much Apple makes from the App Store (Apple told a federal judge that this number doesn't exist). Warren Buffett – with significant interest in hundreds of companies across dozens of markets – only breaks out seven segments of profit-and-loss for Berkshire Hathaway.

Recall that there is one category of data from the FTC's antitrust case against Amazon that has been completely redacted. One guess which category that is! Yup, the profit-and-loss for its retail operation and other lines of business.

These redactions are the judge's fault, but the real fault lies with the SEC. Amazon is a public company. In exchange for access to the capital markets, it owes the public certain disclosures, which are set out in the SEC's rulebook. The SEC lets Amazon – and other gigantic companies – get away with a degree of secrecy that should disqualify it from offering stock to the public. As Mitchell says, SEC chairman Gary Gensler should adopt "new rules that more concretely define what qualifies as a segment and remove the discretion given to executives."

Amazon is the poster-child for monopoly run amok. As Yanis Varoufakis writes in Technofeudalism, Amazon has actually become a post-capitalist enterprise. Amazon doesn't make profits (money derived from selling goods); it makes rents (money charged to people who are seeking to make a profit):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/28/cloudalists/#cloud-capital

Profits are the defining characteristic of a capitalist economy; rents are the defining characteristic of feudalism. Amazon looks like a bazaar where thousands of merchants offer goods for sale to the public, but look harder and you discover that all those stallholders are totally controlled by Amazon. Amazon decides what goods they can sell, how much they cost, and whether a customer ever sees them. And then Amazon takes $0.45-51 out of every dollar. Amazon's "marketplace" isn't like a flea market, it's more like the interconnected shops on Disneyland's Main Street, USA: the sign over the door might say "20th Century Music Company" or "Emporium," but they're all just one store, run by one company.

And because Amazon has so much control over its sellers, it is able to exercise power over its buyers. Amazon's search results push down the best deals on the platform and promote results from more expensive, lower-quality items whose sellers have paid a fortune for an "ad" (not really an ad, but rather the top spot in search listings):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/29/aethelred-the-unready/#not-one-penny-for-tribute

This is "Amazon's pricing paradox." Amazon can claim that it offers low-priced, high-quality goods on the platform, but it makes $38b/year pushing those good deals way, way down in its search results. The top result for your Amazon search averages 29% more expensive than the best deal Amazon offers. Buy something from those first four spots and you'll pay a 25% premium. On average, you need to pick the seventeenth item on the search results page to get the best deal:

https://scholarship.law.bu.edu/faculty_scholarship/3645/

For 40 years, pro-monopoly economists claimed that it would be impossible for Amazon to attain monopoly power over buyers and sellers. Today, Amazon exercises that power so thoroughly that its junk-fee revenues alone exceed the total revenues of Bank of America. Amazon's story – that these fees barely stretch to covering its costs – assumes a nearly inconceivable level of credulity in its audience. Regrettably – for the human race – there is a cohort of senior, highly respected economists who possess this degree of credulity and more.

Of course, there's an easy way to settle the argument: Amazon could just comply with SEC regs and break out its P&L for its e-commerce operation. I assure you, they're not hiding this data because they think you'll be pleasantly surprised when they do and they don't want to spoil the moment.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/01/managerial-discretion/#junk-fees

Image: Doc Searls (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/docsearls/4863121221/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[zosin-ya]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3 - ꜱᴛᴜᴅʏ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ

Summary: In the middle of exams and a diet of instant noodles, you decide to order some take out. What you did not expect was your delivery person to be a hot guy on a motorcycle, who, as fate would have it, happens to be a fellow student at your university.

tags.: One Piece, Trafalgar Law, Law x Reader, NSFW, slow burn romance (?), Modern AU, law has a motorcycle cuz its hot, Penguin, Shachi, Bepo appearing as flat mates

a.n.: study date with Law, and Penguin spotting you two, getting on Laws nerves <3

[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]

Despite your brief dive into his social media, the little information you’d gathered did reassure you that he was indeed, a med student. His profile was private, yet you could read his bio still. It barley stated anything, besides a stethoscope emoji and “North”. You also looked through the pictures he was tagged in and saw some posts with who you guessed were his friends. In none of the photos did he seem particularly happy—his face always distant, never smiling.

The snow in the background, along with his clear mention of “North” in his bio, made you think he came from the North Blue, a rich seaport country known for its scholars and wealth. It left you wondering how someone from such a place could have financial problems. If he really was from there, why was he doing food deliveries while in med school?

You guessed that explained his cold demeanor, though you weren’t entirely sure. Maybe it was more than just his roots—something deeper, more guarded. Law really was a mystery to you, you had to admit…

With a quiet sigh, you finally stopped fussing with your outfit and began packing for the study session. You tossed your things into your bag, grabbed your keys, and headed out the door. After a few bus stops, you arrived at the small café where you’d suggested meeting up. It wasn’t anything fancy—just a place you liked for its cheap coffee and soft music.

As soon as you stepped inside, your gaze swept the café, trying to find that familiar face.

In the far corner, away from the bustle, Law sat with a cup beside his laptop, his hoodie drawn low over his head. Strands of messy black hair peeking out, giving him a cozy but tired look. His long legs were stretched out under the table as he typed, oblivious to the world around him.

You inhaled deeply, steadying the butterflies in your chest, and made your way over. The excitement buzzing inside you was undeniable, you’d been so eager for today that sleep had been non-existent the night before. Somehow, you hadn’t expected things to get this far—having his number, meeting up. Even though it was technically a study date rather than a real date, which carried its own expectations, it still felt like a big step. The label “study date” took some pressure off surely, yet, deep down, the thought of sitting across from Law, even under the guise of studying, still set your heart racing.

As you approached his table, you hesitated for a moment, standing there, unsure if he’d noticed you. At first, he seemed unaware, lost in whatever he was working on. But then, sensing your presence, he paused and pulled an earbud from beneath his hood. He was about to give you a cranky look, yet when he noticed it was you, his frown shifted into a mild surprise, followed by a faint smile that made your heart skip. He straightened up slightly, his attention now on you.

"Sorry, didn’t hear you," he murmured, reaching for his other earbud and slipping it into its case.

"Don’t worry about it," you said with a smile, sliding into the seat across from him. As you placed your bag down and pulled out your study materials, you couldn’t help but ask, "What were you working on?"

Law watched you for a moment, his gaze following your movements as you got settled. At your question, though, he let out a deep sigh, rubbing his eyes in clear frustration. His posture slumped as he sank further into his chair, his knee almost brushing against yours under the table.

"Ugh, nothing much really," he grumbled. "A friend of mine is writing his thesis and asked me to look it over. He added so many puns it’s basically unreadable."

You couldn’t help the grin forming on your lips, and didn’t notice how this first conversation made you relax quite a bit. It felt more natural to talk to him like this, as if you two really were just uni colleges. It was quite the contrast to the delivery Law you knew.

“I really have to see the puns…can I?” You asked with a light chuckle in your words, as you leaned a bit closer in anticipation. Law rolled his eyes with a light grin and turned the laptop towards you. There were quite a lot of comments on the document you saw, and a lot of them just said “???” or “ew”.

With one slender inked finger he pointed at the screen “This one is the worst…”

You leaned in closer, your eyes skimming over the highlighted text. It read: 'In the field of marine biology, things can get a bit... fishy.'

You snorted, clapping a hand over your mouth as you stifled a laugh. "Oh my god, thats bad.," you said between chuckles.

Law shook his head again, a heavy sigh escaping him, though a grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he saved the file and turned his laptop back towards him. “Anyway,” he said, straightening up, “I’ll finish that misery later. Let’s focus on biochemistry now.”

For a moment, you wanted to ask about his friends, curious to know more about the people in his life and maybe learn a bit more about him too. But Law was already shifting gears, getting straight to the point. It didn’t disappoint you exactly—just reminded you that, despite how at ease he seemed, there were still walls up. He was private, and it was clear he wasn’t the type to open up easily.

“Sure,” you said, snapping back to the task at hand. “Topic 8, right? I finished up those cycles... let me grab them.” You rifled through your bag, pulling out your notes and spreading them across the table.

Law’s gaze drifted down, scanning the pages. They were well organized—every chemical structure carefully drawn, names and enzymes clearly labeled, with helpful mnemonics in the margins. You had even highlighted key enzymes in a way that made them pop without overwhelming the page with color. He didn’t say anything, but you caught the slight flicker of something in his expression. Was that... approval?

He gave a small nod, leaning in to take a closer look. “Yeah, this part,” he muttered, pointing to a specific reaction, “it just won’t stick in my brain.”

As he spoke, he absentmindedly rubbed his cheek, before looking up at you with those intense, stormy eyes. For a split second, you forgot how to breathe. It wasn’t fair how effortlessly handsome he was—sharp features softened just enough by that calm voice. And here you were, supposed to be focusing on biochemical reactions, not him.

You cleared your throat, trying to pull yourself together. “Uh, yeah, this one's tricky. But the mnemonic I used really helps—let me walk you through it.”

Law’s gaze stayed locked on yours a moment longer than necessary, and for a heartbeat, the air between you felt heavier than it should. But then, just like that, the moment passed, and you were back to studying.

This was definitely going to be harder than you thought.

After hours of intense studying, testing each other with questions you thought might appear on the exam, you both hit a wall. The material was exhausting, and your head was beginning to throb. Law, who was usually so composed, seemed more drained than usual. He kept rubbing his face and leaning back in his chair, while you let out a sigh every now and then.

The various empty cups of coffee on the table were getting in the way slowly too, and you didn’t want to fight off Law again. He was pretty persistent at paying for your drinks, never giving you a chance to pay.

"Think we're done for the day?" you finally asked, the weight of your tiredness catching up with you.

Law gave a small nod, looking equally worn out. "Yeah, pretty much."

Packing up your things, you both stood up and made your way out of the café. As soon as you stepped outside, you noticed the sky had darkened, and the evening had settled in. You zipped up your jacket, slipping your hands into the pockets to ward off the chill. Law paused for a moment, glancing down the street in silence, before he turned to you.

“Where are you heading?”

The question hung in the air, casual but with a hint of something else. You knew he wasn’t offering to walk you home—Law didn’t seem like the type to make those kinds of gestures. But if you were headed the same way, it would make sense to walk together. Besides, you had to admit, a part of you hoped your routes would match up, giving you a little more time with him outside of studying.

You nodded towards your direction. “Just heading to catch the bus.”

Law simply gave you an approved hum.

A small rush of relief washed over you as you both started walking together in comfortable silence. Law wasn’t great at small talk, but somehow the quiet wasn’t awkward. There was something reassuring in just sharing the space with him, without the need to fill it with forced conversation.

The rhythmic sound of your footsteps filled the void between you, yet got distracted when someone from behind was starting to yell.

"Yo, Law!"

The sudden shout made you freeze mid-step, and you turned around, startled. Law, on the other hand, immediately pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly recognizing the voice and not being pleased about it. He let out an annoyed sigh, his irritation evident as he turned to face the approaching figure—Penguin.

As Penguin jogged over, Law’s annoyance only deepened.

“Do I know you?” Law deadpanned, cocking an eyebrow at the young man who now stood grinning before the two of you.

You wished you could run away and hide immediately, trying not to admit that you recognized Penguin from Law’s social media. A sense of shame crept in—stalking his profile hadn’t been your finest moment, but curiosity had gotten the better of you. And now here you were, face-to-face with one of Law's closest friends, feeling oddly exposed.

Penguin, unfazed by Law's sarcasm, chuckled. "Ha, ha, very funny. What are you doing out here?"

Before Law could answer, Penguin’s eyes shifted to you, his smile faltering briefly as surprise flashed across his face. Then, as if putting pieces together, his expression morphed into a knowing grin that made your stomach flip. Law could see it coming a mile away.

He glanced back at Law with a mischievous glint in his eyes, clearly ready to stir the pot. “Is this your girlfr—”

“No.” Law cut him off sharply, his voice cold and final, giving Penguin a glare that could have frozen water. “What do you want?”

Penguin raised his hands defensively, the grin still plastered on his face. “Alright, alright, geez. Just wanted to say hi.”

For a moment, you stood awkwardly between them. Law’s frustration with Penguin was unmistakable, but it was hard to miss the closeness between the two.

Law rolled his eyes, sighing quietly before shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "Studying and reading over your thesis. I’m not finished yet, though."

Penguin waved it off with a casual gesture, looking genuinely grateful that Law had even taken the time to read through it. You were surprised by how civil Law was being—especially after all the grumbling he'd done earlier about the puns. But he didn’t bring that up. Not a single complaint. This brief interaction gave you a deeper glimpse into Law. You couldn’t help but hope that cold, cutting stare would never be aimed your way, even though Penguin seemed to be used to it and taking it lightly.

"No biggie, take your time," Penguin replied, still grinning. Then his eyes flicked between you and Law. "Hey, you guys walking home? Mind if I tag along?"

You felt a twinge of disappointment, secretly wishing you and Law could’ve had just a bit more time alone together, but you knew better. Penguin was his friend, and you couldn’t exactly say no. Law, true to his nature, simply nodded, giving you no real choice in the matter.

The three of you started walking down the street, the night air cool but not uncomfortable. It wasn’t long before you realized you’d have to split off, your route separating from theirs. From their easy back-and-forth, you figured out that they were flatmates, heading home together. When the time came to say goodbye, the parting was brief—Law’s nod short and polite, Penguin throwing you a casual wave.

You boarded the bus, your thoughts still lingering on the evening, hoping you'd have the chance to arrange another study session with Law soon.

As you disappeared down the street, Penguin couldn’t help but shoot Law a sidelong glance. “So... who’s she?”

“Uni colleague.”

Penguin raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You never meet up with people from your uni.”

“Apparently I do.”

“Since when?”

“Since now,” Law snapped, his voice a little sharper than necessary. “Now leave me alone, for God’s sake.”

Penguin chuckled, but didn’t push further, knowing well enough that Law didn’t like talking about his personal life. Still, he couldn’t shake the curiosity. In the years they’d lived together, Law had never met up outside of classes with anyone from med school. He always studied alone, either holed up in his room or in the quiet corners of the library. Law had always claimed studying with others was inefficient, a waste of time.

Yet, here he was.

[Next Chapter]

[totheidiot]

oh em gee i got this banger idea like yesterday and i am so surprised that i have never seen any other person contemplate it but like,,, death note au where when ryuk drops the notebook to the human world, mikami picks it up instead of light. i have been thinking about this all day and i am back now with Ideas. everything is under the cut because it's going to be such a long post, i just know it.

imagine now, if you will, teru mikami who is twenty one years old. a law student, in his fourth year of university, on a full scholarship. he is a pretty lonely person, he lives alone in his dorm and is a very bright and talented student. he is on track to be an accomplished lawyer. like canon mikami, he has a very rigid sense of justice, all people are either good or bad, and bad people must be elimanted. he plans to do just that once he becomes a prosecutor.

it's all going fine. but then, of course, ryuk drops the notebook and he ends up finding it. the notebook falls to the courtyard of his university and mikami had been on his daily walks before class when he comes across it and picks it up. he was going to ignore it at first but after he takes a moment to examine it, he is a little apprehensive about it. leaving something like that lying around? bad idea. he doesn't believe in its powers at first and the first week or so, he doesn't even use it. he keeps it in his drawer and decides to just focus on his studies and classes. he dismisses it as some sort of joke item, he means to throw it away soon but he keeps forgetting to.

but after a week or so, ryuk shows up. ryuk would be a lot less keen on mikami than he was with light because like light to him, was interesting. light was raking up like a hundred deaths in the span of five days while mikami has zero. ryuk is kinda disappointed but he dropped the notebook, so there is nothing he can really do about it. ryuk ends up coaxing mikami to try it out, just to see what happens. mikami is a little hesitant, but now that he has seen ryuk and now knows that shinigami exist, the notebook must be real too, as far fetched as it is. he tries a similar approach to light to test it out, he writes the name of a criminal who is being broadcasted on tv. and as expected, the criminal dies and the notebook is real.

mikami does the same thing that light does, that is, target criminals with the most heinous crimes on their records. murderers, rapists, terrorists, anyone he considers to be evil, bad, and the scum of society. how he does it is slightly different though, he is much more methodical about it. he allocates a set amount of hours every single day where he will sit down and write names. he sticks to it, he never writes a name out of his fixed time.

he takes the shinigami eyes deal pretty early on: light's reasoning for why he doesn't take the eyes is because he wants to actually be alive to control the new world that he has made. mikami does not have such motivations. that is the most important thing that sets 1st kira!mikami apart from canon light – mikami has no personal motives to his death note usage like light does. light wants to rid the world of evil, yes, but first and foremost, he wants to be God. mikami only wants the former, all he wants is justice and the world where there's just good people. he is not as 'corrupted' as light is, if that even is the right word???? mikami truly believes that what he is doing is the most morally right thing, he has no other motivation like light does. so, he is not really scared of his lifespan being cut in half. what he wants is to achieve his goals, and he doesn't mind being a martyr about it.

of course, everyone catches on that all the criminal deaths are the doing of one entity, who is called kira by the public. another key different, mikami is 10000x less conspicuous than light. light 's thing is that his dad is the head of the kira case while mikami has no such connections like that. so nobody even thinks to suspect him. L, who takes up the kira case just like in canon, doesn't even think to suspect mikami since he is just a random university student studying law. raye penber and naomi thing never happens because he is never even trailed in the first place, light was trailed because L had made the conclusion that kira has to be connected to the task force in some way. so, since mikami is just Some Guy, that whole thing doesn't happen.

i would argue that the lind l tailor thing doesn't happen either. i don't think L would find substantial evidence that kira is in fact from the kanto region but if by chance, it did happen, mikami wouldn't have killed tailor. light is impulsive, he is hot headed while mikami is cool, not necessarily more calculative than light is but he doesn't rely on his own emotions much. he probably wouldn't have come to the conclusion that televised L was a decoy, he just wouldn't care enough to kill tailor. frustrated, yes, but he wouldn't write his name in a fit of rage. he knows that there would be opposition but he believes that what he is doing is right. his only priority is his goals, he isn't really focused on getting rid of opposition.

so all in all, he makes a great kira since no one suspects him and he manages to do his job just fine. but that is not to say that it's all perfect because i think mikami has one big, giant, colossal problem that light had never really had to face and that is ryuk. because you see, ryuk dropped the notebook in hopes for some fun, something interesting happening. mikami is a poor person for that. sure, mikami does the same thing as light does which is kill criminals but ryuk is more interested in light. light does his thing with a flair, he has that added wish to be god as well. but mikami on the other hand, ryuk finds him boring. extremely predictable, mikami takes 0 risks. all he does is just write some names, there isn't even the L vs kira thing to keep ryuk interested. ryuk is like extremely tempted to just write mikami's name and kill him off.

but that's when light comes in. light has heard of this kira, someone who kills criminals and apparently has the same views of justice that he does. light is desperate to find him and is completely obsessed too, trying to track kira down. he would like to be allies and he thinks he might be of great help to kira, whoever that is. he even succeeds in it in some way, managing to find mikami and conclude that he is the kira that he is looking for (this is where the mikalight comes in).

light approaches mikami one day, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that mikami is kira but doesn't let mikami know that he thinks that. they get to talking, like discussing about their views on justice and good and evil. it just makes light more sure that he has the right person. for mikami, it's refreshing to talk to someone who thinks like him and he cannot help but be so charmed by him. but in the end, light drops the bombshell that he knows that mikami is kira but he is like don't worry i am like a huge fan and mikami is like. nervous but he is like okay. light tells him that he wants to work with him, help him achieve his goal. light is not beneath using his good look and charm to manipulate mikami as well, even though it's just a little different since mikami is a man. by the end of it, mikami is more relaxed and he is just falling for light's charms more and more. a likeminded individual, handsome and charming, someone who wants to help him.

light wants to know how exactly mikami kills. eventually mikami tells him about the notebook, even shows it to him and light is already hatching his plans. he wants to steal the notebook, keep it for himself. light is light in every universe, he wants to take mikami's role as kira and become the god of the new world. he even succeeds in convincing mikami to "lend" it to him and begins to use it for a little bit.

misa still very much exists 10000%. she gets the death note, her parents are dead and mikami had killed her parents' murderer. so now, misa is now grateful to mikami and attaches herself to him, instead of going after light. sure, light is conventionally attractive and they have crossed paths but mikami is now her no1. mikami is more uncomfortable than annoyed, he is a lot more antisocial than light is and all of this attention is just so unfamiliar to him. and since mikami has the eyes for himself, he has no need for her like light did and even so, he would be so unwilling to manipulate her for his own gain.

L comes along as well and i think the way he catches on finally is because of one of light's mistakes when mikami was lending the notebook to him. he clocks light as kira and mikami as the accomplice instead of the other way around. the memory loss thing still happens where mikami and misa lose their memory while light still remembers because he never had a notebook in the first place. confinement arc happens where light, mikami and L are chained together (this is where the mikalawlight happens. mikalawlight is actually my otp, like my most favorite thing)

that is all the ideas i have for now,,, this post better not flop. please please please feel free to add on !!!!

[mrbensonmum]

TV Shows - CSI: Las Vegas VII

I had to take a little writing break because my wrists were starting to feel the strain from all the writing (I have to write a lot for uni, and I also need to fill up my own page). But of course, I didn't stop watching CSI: Las Vegas, and that's why we're already in the middle of Season Four!

You can tell by now that the characters have become very well-established and developed. Many of them don't seem as young and inexperienced anymore, and that even applies to Greg. I find him the most interesting here because he has developed to the point where he's even taken out into the field, and we know that he'll soon leave the lab and go into the field. He hasn't left behind his outgoing nature but has used it to progress. His exceptional knowledge about various things also comes in handy!

Nick and Sara are now applying for a higher CSI class, and they are overshadowed by Catherine, as Grissom assigns her an important case. She brings in Greg, which further frustrates Nick and Sara. However, by the end of this episode, you can see that, due to past episodes, it's no longer just a team here but rather friends in a somewhat familial relationship (even their time together during breaks or after cases shows this). Because it's patched up, you understand why it was Catherine and why she brought in Greg. (Nick and Sara have another story connecting them, but that's more related to the actors, but more on that later!)

At the beginning, it was still a bit rough, and sometimes even a bit rough when switching between cases. But this is absolutely not criticism at this point, just an observation. Because this has also been ironed out more and more, and you always switch at just the right moment, so one case doesn't "wear out," and you have to immediately deal with the other one. As a viewer, you're always kept on your toes, which is good because with crime series that handle only one case, this can sometimes be very exhausting over the intended 45 minutes. This danger rarely exists here.

One of the big mysteries of the series has now also been revealed; we know who Catherine's father is. The casino mogul Sam Brown! Catherine found this out about Greg with a not entirely legal DNA investigation, and of course, Sam Brown immediately tried to bribe her after being acquitted of a murder case. I vaguely remember that there's still a lot to happen here, and I'm curious how the gaps in my memories will be filled. Don't worry, otherwise, I won't get on any Catherine rage train today. Since the episode with her ex-husband and daughter, she has been reformed, and you can see that in her character, which is calmer and even more grounded. Although there are still outbursts sometimes, but that's human!

What we're increasingly seeing now is the famous CSI effect. I've worked with people in the lab for a long time, and it's fascinating what you notice in such a series. It starts with the absolutely wrong use of gloves because when you wear them and work with materials, you absolutely don't touch anything else and don't even touch your hair; it would all contaminate. Then also the quick processing of analyses through various devices, including DNA comparisons. Yes, the operation of the devices is okay, and the devices are real, but everything is very much accelerated, which of course also happens in terms of storytelling. But normally, such analyses would take much longer than shown here. What's really interesting is the many reports that this was actually demanded in the real world by law enforcement agencies because, as you could see here, it's possible. There are also statistics showing that the number of students enrolled in scientific studies has increased. This shows what power and impact such a series can have when it's well done.

I'm considering whether I should also make a post about the music. I wanted to do that with Dr. House, but then I forgot. Because the individual pieces chosen are really good, plus then some scores contribute a lot to the mood of the series and to individual scenes.

Oh, come on, here's a little preview. In the first season and in the famous roller coaster scene of Grissom (the end of season one), you can hear this song, and as far as series go, it's one of my absolute favorites.

[mundanearcane]

just realised i never explained why on earth i'm making this nightmare of a ttrpg so uh have some backstory:

so back in (lemme check google docs) 2021, i wrote the start of a short i was gonna submit to a magazine. the gist was, in an urban fantasy world, the construction and expansion of this capital city had seen a biiiig ancient magical forest start to recede, causing havoc in the delicate ecosystems within. so, the protagonist volunteers with this ranger force who try to make sure what is left of the forest is protected, by stopping students who study magic at the local university from doing spells in an unprotected environment.

i didn't get wildly far into it before i got distracted by other things, but the idea did linger with me long enough that, when i was invited to take part in a first-time DM's one-shot adventure in DnD 5e, i was like oh! i can fold that idea into a ranger character!

side note: up until that point, i had very intentionally not played a ranger character in DnD, because i know myself well enough to realise that i'd love the class so much i'd never play anything else. stealth archer is my go-to build in just about any fantasy setting, mostly because in any other game that ISN'T a fantasy setting, i play sharpshooters and snipers all the time. i love killing things at a very long distance and suffering none of the repercussions of doing so. instead, i've always chosen classes like barbarian, paladin, and monk--classes that all favour close-range combat. no spellcasters, mind, because i also know myself well enough to know i hate hate HATE magic it's SO annoying!!!! magic has never been my thing, and cantrips are about all i can handle. anyway. back to my point.

so when building this one-shot ranger, i decided it would be funny to really lean in on the ranger aspect by being... a forest ranger! like a real, employed, outdoorsy, government-affiliated Ranger! and the guiding principle of this character would be that they were maintaining the land and the ecosystem and anything that could threaten that would be their purview to manage. so, i made a harengon because i love bunnies, joined the one-shot with (and i cannot stress this enough) the first-time DM, and proceeded to be the most annoying character i've ever made.

to be more specific: as other players did their turns and their dialogue and backstory, i was furiously scribbling down a Ranger's Bible to quote when we found problems. i made Beau "Bobo" Boneyard a Ranger Captain of the second division (which, at the time, had no definition), and wrote down new laws and bylaws and all that good stuff as the DM told us our mission: to perform a heist. to put it simply, some guy had a magical item stolen from him, which was now in display at this weird museum that had cropped up in the forest out of nowhere. we were being paid to enter the building and retrieve the item, no holds barred.

so, whilst the rest of the party discussed how to break and enter into this museum, Bobo walked right up to the front door, knocked on it, and asked the proprietor of the venue if they knew that this land was owned by the governor and, whilst it WAS public right-of-way as according to section 4E sub-section B part iiii of the publicly-available Bill of Natural Resources, needed a permit in order to build any temporary or permanent structure--which comprised of paperworks A-562, J-28C, landowner permission, council permission, and proof that it had followed all regional building laws as well as safety guidance?

now, Bobo knows that if that had all happened, they'd know; this is, after all, their neck of the woods. the proprietor, however, says he has it all in order, yes, come in and i'll get it for you. so the party enters the museum and, whilst bobo waits for the guy to get his papers, the rest of the party try to perform a heist. the guy comes out, sees the rest of the party trying to break into a magically-defended display case, and right before initiative is rolled, beau makes sure to grab all the papers right out of his hand.

long story short: the guy's a dragon. the museum? that's his horde. and since we'd already been playing for the better part of four hours, we decided to get out of dodge by running away, the museum disappearing in our wake.

once we're far away, the DM attempts to wrap up this one-shot, but i ask, wait, i obviously have to verify the papers i've gotten. the rest of the party, mystified, ask if i was actually serious about all the paperwork, and i say, well, of course! it's my job! i take it very seriously! and so the DM pauses and says it's all fake. he literally just scribbled down on a bunch of paper and hoped it would pass muster.

bobo, furious, says, well, this is a problem. because not having the paperwork alone would be a hefty fine--falsifying documents? that's a prison sentence. and so the party agrees that should we all band together again, we will quest for the dragon so bobo can arrest him. after all, the forest rangers do double as law-enforcement, should the need arise.

---

what doing this one-shot made me realise is that rules-lawyering your way in and out of trouble is really fun, especially when it means resolving problems through the power of immense bureaucracy. for instance, walking up to the door and getting inside simply by flashing your authority as part of a government body? using a variety of intimidating titles of papers and permissions and quoting laws to get a literal dragon to try and falsify these papers? suddenly, my focus wasn't on combat or trying to sneak my way around or any of that; instead, i had to think how would this guy have broken relevant laws, and how do i use this to my advantage? it was such a novel approach to a character for me that i really wanted to share that experience around.

so, i decided to make it real! by creating a biiiiiiiiiig book of rules and problems to solve, now you get to literally throw the book at a problem and try and resolve it! no fighting, no biting, no sneaking, no beating; just pure old-fashioned threats of fines and prison times.

[prelawland]

Is the CSI Effect Still Relevant?

By Ellie Boman, University of Central Missouri Class of 2024

December 12, 2023

In today’s modern world where one can access the sum of human knowledge just by a tap on a screen that resides in their pocket, is there really any cause to worry about ignorance? As with any subject matter in law, the answer is that it really depends. Most adults do not have the time to continuously look up everything they see on the internet to see if it is, in fact, true or not. With the bias that media sites have in this modern era, there will surely be misinformation and misinterpretation abroad. Though there is also the fact to consider that new information, or studies, or theories are released each day, but once again, does anyone have time for that?

Misinformation via the internet or social media is not a recent phenomenon. In 2006, a popular crime show called CSI: Crime Scene Investigation aired on television, prompting millions of people to watch. The show denoted both police and criminal proceedings in the United States through a fictional manner. Though, like all television shows, there was an element of fiction to make the normally long, drawn out, paperwork heavy proceedings more interesting to the standard viewer. However, the there is a theory known as the CSI Effect that describes that some viewers do not reconcile fact from fiction, and can not tell the difference between the fake, drama-filled proceedings and what judicial and criminal proceedings are actually like. A test was done where it was assumed that individuals are more certain in a defendant’s guilt than they otherwise might have been. [4]

Another acknowledgement of the theory known as the CSI Effect would be prosecutors themselves. They have been known to state the difference between tv show trials and real-life trails in their closing statements. However, despite this, there has been no discernible scientific data thus far truly denoting whether or not the CSI Effect actually makes a difference in deciding criminal cases. [1]

Furthermore, most people are not even aware of what the CSI Effect even is. It was found that only 25% of forensic scientist students participating in a study even knew what the CSI Effect even was. That number decreases when non-students were surveyed, and only 12% had ever heard of it. [5]

Ever since television became widely available in almost every household in America, regular citizens have been using it as a way to get their information, their entertainment, and their relaxation after a long day at work. Once smartphones became widely available and used, the same thing happened. It is estimated that 8/10ths of teenagers get their news on digital devices, just like a smartphone or the television. Though with a smartphone and these other types of technology, there is a certain speed to how quickly someone can get information about an event that had just occurred. Though just because the information comes out quickly does not mean that it is accurate. This is especially true when 53% of teens or adults get their news or information from social media, like Facebook or TikTok. Though it is estimated that 20% of the videos on the social media site TikTok contain misinformation, which is 1 out of every 5 videos that a user may watch. [3]

Essentially, the CSI Effect seems to be another way of denoting misinformation but using a specific term to specify misinformation about the criminal justice system. Misinformation, as stated above, is a relevant, only ever-increasing issue in today’s modern world. As technology develops and smarter ways of faking information, such as Artificial Intelligence, are improved, the importance of differentiating fact and fiction will only continue to increase.

______________________________________________________________

[1] Chin, J., & Workewych, L. (2016, March 21). The CSI Effect. Papers.ssrn.com. https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=2752445

[2] Lodge, C., & Zloteanu, M. (2020). Jurors' expectations and decision-making: revisiting the CSI effect. The North of England Bulletin, 2020(2), 19-30.

[3] Micich, A. (2023, August 14). How misinformation on social media has changed news. U.S.

[4] Podlas, K. (2017). The “ CSI Effect.” Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Criminology and Criminal Justice. https://doi.org/10.1093/acrefore/9780190264079.013.40

[5] Wagner, Haley, "Using Multimedia to Counteract the CSI Effect" (2020). Honors Theses. 729. https://encompass.eku.edu/honors_theses/729

[honestlyfragile]

JUMPSTREET - Mark Lee x Johnny Suh

Pairing: Mark Lee x Fem!Reader, Johnny is Mark’s bestfriend, Mentions of Jaehyun and Yuta

Genre: university!au, police!au, a dash of fluff, smut,crack, fraternity!au

warnings: mild violence, mentions of guns, drugs, sexual themes, language

Summary: Mark and Johnny were partners in crime, but when feelings get in the way, will Mark stick to the law or go against it?

Wc: 15.4k

also posted in Ao3

a/n: I hope you enjoy this story heavily inspired by the 21 & 22 Jumpstreet movie franchise, and hopefully I was able to deliver it with my own ideas. Enjoy!

Mark and Johnny start their first official day as policemen after being together in most of their high school years and studying criminology in college. They could not be more excited to see people make trouble until today.

"Let's see who's going to be able to make his first arrest." Johnny bets, scanning around the area with a cup of coffee in his hand, the other on his waist.

"Dude it's a park, what the fuck could possibly happen here?" Mark retorts, unamused.

"Oh you know, it's a crazy world we live in these days." Johnny defends, his gaze fixed on his surroundings.

"Sure it is." Mark continues to read his newspaper as he stands side by side with Johnny.

The two try to at least roam around and patrol over the area, looking for at least an ounce of any violation, it didn't matter if it was serious or not.

Mark spots a kid of about 9 years old near the pond, about to drop a piece of bread into the water.

"Excuse me kid," Mark bluffs, as if it were his first catch of the day. Technically this is his first catch of his career, hopefully.

"What?" the child frowns and looks at him obnoxiously.

"Read the sign," Mark points to it and the kid's eyes follow, but disobeys him anyway. 

"It says don't feed the ducks!" Mark argues, but the kid is unbothered.

"Let it go Mark, it's not like bread will kill them. Plus, you can't arrest a child." Johnny scoffs and tries to drag Mark to another area.

Mark lets out a sigh as the kid sticks his tongue out and he does the same before turning his back.

The two had nothing better to do, they were rookies who just got newly assigned to an area that didn't even have any trouble. Almost like they were just there for the sake of. Of course the department treated them as rookies.

Johnny takes out his pistol out of boredom and tosses it for fun. "Woah you know those are loaded right?" Mark warns him while involuntarily taking a step back.

"Yeah and?" Johnny continues to toss and play with it.

"Unload it first!" Mark panics like the goody two shoes that he was.

"Then that would be no fun." Johnny shrugs.

Mark spots a group of middle aged men from afar, but not quite. He squints and tries to take a closer look with his binoculars.

"Yo check it out, aren't those the Outlaws?" He nudges Johnny's shoulder as he takes a look himself.

The Outlaws are a known motorcycle gang in the county, they aren't always bothersome but the both of them are determined to find a loophole.

The two approach the group of men and tell them off because they have parked their motorcycles illegally. But that's not the only thing they notice, these men were stoned. One lights up a joint of Marijuana shamelessly, and Johnny loses his temper. "Excuse me Sir, you do know that the use of Marijuana is illegal right?"

"Oh look," the hideous man spits on the ground. "They must be new. He has the guts to talk to us like that. Nice to see some fresh kids here. You sure you aren't dressing up for... halloween?" The man specifically has his eyes on Mark when he said the last sentence.

Feeling offended, Mark straightens up his stance and acts more like a grown man. "That's a nice joke sir, now hand it over." He says in a stern voice.

"What a scary fella, keep up the good work! Sorry I don't have candy with me." They tease and the two have had enough.

"I'm going to have to search your motorcycle now sir." Johnny insists and doesn't wait for a response, and opens the seat and finds packets of a fine white substance. "These are.." he halts.

"DRUGS!" Mark shouts and immediately gets pushed by one of the gang members.

Johnny immediately gets a sample and keeps it in his pocket and takes his gun out. Mark gets up and does the same. The men try to run away and escape, Johnny runs after them and Mark takes his bike. The two finally get to corner them and Johnny pits one of them on the ground.

"You have the right to," Johnny tries to utter the Miranda Rights as he puts handcuffs on the man that is trying to eagerly resist him. "To shut the fuck up!" Johnny was being too focused on trying to handcuff the suspect and forgets to recite the rest,

Reciting those did not even cross Mark's mind as he just also focused on trying to handcuff the man.

"You are coming with us!" He yells and drags them to the police station, which was only a few meters away from them now.

--------

As the case was investigated, their chief commends them but then discovers that they forgot to recite the Miranda Rights, which can possibly make the charges be dropped, but thankfully the violation to the law was enough for the men to remain in jail.

"Technically you still did this wrong," the chief puts a hand on his chin and taps the polished wooden table. "But since you're just starting out, i'll give you another offer."

The two young men eye each other, anticipating the chief's suggestion. "An offer?" Johnny asks, straightening up in his seat.

"Jump street." The chief says.

"Wha- what's that?" Mark furrows his eyebrows in curiosity.

"Since the both of you look younger than the rest of the people here, our undercover police unit is in need of officers." The chief informs.

"Please, continue." Johnny lets him explain further.

"You pretend to be college students. It's practically the same, but it would be more suitable for the both of you because it's your crowd. You see crime and injustice, you report. But, you will be disguised as college students to ease the procedures of trying to find what those students have been up to. We have your back." The chief explains.

"Cool." Mark simply says because he is astonished by the idea.

"So where do we report? Do we have a new head quarters?" Johnny asks. 

"You will be transferred. Down in 21 Jump St." The deputy Chief declares.

____

They head to the headquarters that was disguised as an old chapel. "You sure this is the one?" Mark questions as he gets out of the car.

"It does say 21 Jump St. so, let's have a look." Johnny turns off the engine and both of them enter.

The setting was a typical chapel, but it was dark and full of stock equipment. Mark takes a look at the altar that was dimly lit, and bows before the image of Christ to show respect . Johnny on the other hand was not a person of religion but follows Mark's simple gesture anyways.

"The both of you!" A man shouts from afar, and it echoes, "come over here." 

The two are startled but proceed to the hidden room. When they enter they see two women who are already disguised as cheerleaders. Meanwhile the two are still in their police uniforms. The ladies take a look and have a good laugh at them. "You do know that you're supposed to go undercover right?" She says, eyeing them from head to toe. 

"W-we didn't get the memo that it was gonna be today.." Mark trails off and fidgets with his hands.

"Go and dress like teenagers! Now!" The chief commands and the two quickly change right away. 

When they get back they are briefed by the set of rules they have to follow and about the goals of this undercover project.

"Rule number 1. DO NOT get expelled. No one in the system knows that you are undercover. So be disciplined and don't cause major trouble. Getting expelled would mean that you'll get your asses kicked out of jump street." The chief sternly explains, making the assigned officers hold their breath from fear.

"Rule number 2," the officer walks past the rest and stands in front of Johnny. "DO NOT have any sexual or intimate relationships with the students and professors. You hear that pretty boy?" And specifically locks his eyes on Johnny, making the boy gulp and purse his lips. After the general meeting, the two were called for a detailed one, personally with the chief.

It was said to them that they had to find a synthetic drug that has been spreading around the campus called NCT. A sample of its packaging was shown, it was definitely something you wouldn't think of as a drug. It was about a size of a large coin, and looks like a small biscuit. It was sealed using assorted hand drawn stickers of different objects. They were also advised to never give out their real names, because new identities have been assigned to them. Johnny's being Rolan Kim and Mark's being Kalen Park.

"When the youngsters take this drug, it apparently makes them laser-focused on studying for about an hour. And for the succeeding hours, they party like it's fucking 1999 until they pass out. Infiltrate the dealer, find the supplier." The chief gives his final orders and sends off the both of them for their mission.

-----

"Dang, we're really going back to college?" Mark says as he finished up packing his things for the dorm that the agency assigned to them. They had to be as realistic as possible.

The two head to the university, reminiscing their own college days. The two might perhaps over-do this whole "blending in" thing, which might give out the disguise.

"Woah their campus is HUGE." Mark says, mesmerized and wears both straps of his backpack.

"Bro, that's not very college of you." Johnny fumbles with the strap of Mark's backpack.

"What?"

"You're two strapping dude. You have to just sling one of them on your shoulder, so it's cool and grown up. You're in college, not middle school." Johnny fixes Mark's bag for him.

"Right. College." He utters to himself. He seems to be enjoying it too much, and starts saying hi to everyone he sees.

"Knock it off, Mark. You're giving us away." Johnny nudges his arm and tries to cooly stride along the campus, keeping his composure.

Mark acknowledges him and goes with the flow. The two arrive in their dorm that they gladly share only among themselves. Mark is new to this, because when he went to college he stayed with his parents. Thankfully he could trust Johnny to always have his back.

The two set their things down and pick their beds, it didn't really matter much since the room had two singles and separate desks for the both of them. It also had a small book shelf that could come in handy, if they ever plan to take lectures seriously.

"Let's just fix these later. We have to go to the Dean's office to confirm our enrollment. Act natural okay?" Johnny lazily brushes his hair back and straightens up his shirt in front of the small mirror that the vanity had.

"Oh- uh okay." Mark leaves the pile of his clothes undone on top of his bed and grabs his phone and keys.

It was the afternoon of fall, the campus has been covered with different hues of orange leaves and subtle sunlight. The breeze was cool but not strong as it blew against their hair. The university seemed peaceful, but they had no idea what went on once the sun sets and the lights are off.

After a couple minutes of walking, the two arrive at the Dean's office for their interview. 

"Good afternoon gentlemen, please take a seat." The middle aged man smiles at the both of them. 

The two are slightly nervous, but eventually get over it. "Nice to meet you, Mr..." Johnny reads the name plate on the desk "Mr. Bennet." and gives the man his signature smile. Mark does the same and they start their interview. 

"Okay, so which one is Rolan and which one is Kalen?" Mr. Bennet asks and there was a short period of silence. Two had seemed to forget which identities were theirs. 

Johnny raises his hand, "I'm Rolan sir. Rolan Kim." and he nudges Mark's shoulder. 

"Ah yes and I'm Kalen... Park" he barely manages to blurt it out. 

The dean furrows his eyebrows but lets it go and proceeds. "So the two of you are?" He asks. They were not prepared for that question. 

"Brothers."

"Family friends." the two say at the same time. They give each other a funny look, and Mark gladly saves them from the mishap. "Well we do really treat each other as brothers sir, we grew up together pretty much." and clears his throat. A close call. 

"That's good to hear. So Rolan is going to be trying out for the football team and Kalen will try out for the Music club. Those two are very different from each other, but don't worry the opportunities in this school are endless. You can always transfer if you feel that you aren't happy with what you chose." The dean explains and the two acknowledge. 

Mr. Bennet goes a little further with the interview and gives them their schedules for the semester then eventually dismisses the two, wishing them well.

"Dude how can you forget the identity that was assigned to you!" Johnny quietly scolds Mark for his slip away. 

"I'm sorry okay it's a little confusing!" Mark scratches the back of his head and looks at the floor. 

"Ayt, I'll see you later. I have Chemistry in 15 minutes. I can still catch up. What about you?" Johnny asks, putting his hand on his pockets and the other on Mark's shoulder.

"Well, I don't really have any classes for the day anymore. I guess i'll head back to the dorm so I can start unpacking already. I'll see you then. Let me know if you find any leads." Mark gives him a small salute and heads back to the dorms.

-----

Johnny arrives in the lecture hall and receives strange looks. He tenses up a little but nonetheless shrugs it off and takes a seat next to a boy who looks like a whole generation younger than him. 

"Yo, you look really old. Were you held back?" The boy asks in a nosy manner, unintentionally pushing Johnny's buttons.

Johnny clenches his jaw and keeps his composure. "No I don't... You look young. Super young. Were you held forward?" he tries to redeem himself. 

"No? Whatever. I'm Haechan by the way." The boy introduces himself. 

"Im Joh- Rolan." Johnny almost slips but the latter doesn't notice. 

The professor immediately hands a quiz, which Johnny has no idea of because he arrived at an odd time of the semester. He guessed all the questions with all his might. But to be quite honest he also wasn't the best in chemistry when he still went to school. 

He turns his paper in and walks towards the exit but gets stopped by Haechan. "Uh do you need help with the topic? You seem to be clueless about it." Which came off as a little rude, but that wasn't his intention at all. 

"No." Johnny insists because it hurts his pride. "I know everything." He stiffens up.

"Yeah? Do you know what a covalent bond is then?" The boy cheekily asks. 

Johnny bluffs, because he doesn't. Or to put it in a better light, he forgot. "Fuck man, I don't have to tell you what it is."

"Woah, I wasn't trying to be rude. But anyway if you need help you can just ask me. See ya." Then Haechan was off and got lost in the sea of people. 

Apparently, it was Johnny's last class for the day because it was already almost evening. He texts Mark to inform him that he's heading back to the dorm as well. He doesn't let his guard down and continues to observe the students if they're up to anything suspicious.

As he walked to the dorm, he saw a bunch of boys that were about as tall as he was but more athletic gather around the corner of the football field. He acts nonchalant but keeps an eye on what they are up to. He tries to move closer to the scene without getting caught and acts like he's only passing by. 

"Yo hook me up with some more of those, I can't fail my classes or else i'll get kicked out of the team." One says to the other. 

Johnny immediately pulls his phone out to text Mark about what he just heard and hurries back. 

-------

"Dude, as expected the football team has it. I'm trying out tomorrow and I'll surely get with them." Johnny discusses with Mark.

"Yeah? Can I come watch your tryouts? So I can see what they look like." Mark requests. 

"Sure. 2pm at the field." Johnny informs him.

The two were mostly busy arranging their stuff in the room until they heard a knock on the door. Mark offers to get it. 

"Hey new neighbors!" two men appear with big smiles. 

"Oh hey, uh... thanks?" Mark blankly answers as he was usually awkward meeting with new people.

Johnny comes and checks to see who it was, and to his surprise, it was Haechan and his roommate. 

"Oh hey Haechan, and hey..." Johnny looks at the unfamiliar guy. 

"Renjun." He smiles.

"Right Renjun." Johnny nods. "Oh by the way Kalen, I go to the same biology class as Haechan." Johnny calls Mark by his fake name.

"Oh cool, what about you Renjun, what's your major?" Mark asks. 

"Classical music!" Renjun enthusiastically says. 

"Oh I'm in Music Prod! I'll probably see you around during org meetings." Mark smiles.

Their neighbors introduce tips for them that could be useful during their stay and seem to be genuinely nice people. But Mark and Johnny cannot trust anyone, so they keep their guards up and try their best to not give anything away. 

Although it may have seemed like an easy task for them, it wasn't. The drug was all over the school, it was going to be difficult to find the root of it if they ignored even the smallest details that could lead them to find out the supplier. 

---

The following day, the two wake up early ready to officially start the day. Mark and Johnny head to their own classes, hoping that they find out something about the case today. 

Mark enters the lecture hall for his Philosophy class. It was almost 80 percent full as it was a basic class for almost everyone. He awkwardly looks around, hoping to find a seat that wasn't as far because of his bad eyesight. 

"Psst." You try to catch his attention. When he looks over, you tap the vacant seat next to you, "you can sit here." You offer. 

"T-thanks." He says and gives you a smile. 

"You seem like a new face. I'm Y/N" You say to him because you have observed the people in this class every day. 

"I'm Kalen. Kalen Park." he scratches the back of his head. "I uh, just got enrolled yesterday. You know, when your family moves into another town... yeah" he trails off with his made-up excuse. 

"Yeah, it's fine. Don't worry about it." You genuinely assure him, "It's college. You can take your time." You chuckle because he was so awkward, but seemed very kind. 

"Definitely." He bites his lip, unsure if he should keep talking or not. But the professor arrives just on time. 

He observes his surroundings and keeps an eye on suspicious students that might have a link to what they were looking for. He whispers to the guy in front of him who was just playing games on his laptop and wasn't listening in class. "Hey, do you know where I can get myself some NCT?" 

The guy raises his brows in doubt, "are you a narc?" and might have said it way too loudly. 

Mark tries to brush it off with a stiff laugh "What are you talking about man? I'm not I swear." and refuses to make eye contact. 

The airhead lets it go and slips mark a cellphone number that could possibly be a step closer to what they were looking for. "Just text them "looking for a hookup" and they'll know what you're talking about." 

"Thanks, man." He gives him a small pat on the back just to show that he wasn't up to anything, which actually just makes him more suspicious. Thankfully, the guy didn't really care. 

Mark was delighted to have found a lead easily, and immediately texts Johnny about it. After that, he actually paid attention to the class, just because it genuinely fascinated him. 

When it ended he immediately gathered his stuff and put on his backpack, ready to meet Johnny. 

"Psst, two strapper!" You call out and try to barely tap his shoulder. 

He looks back and immediately drops one strap of his backpack off his shoulders, he definitely forgot about what Johnny has advised him. He scratches the back of his head with his hands on his pocket, "yeah?" 

"You free this evening?" You casually ask. 

He nervously gulps because he really has to be somewhere right now, but he didn't want to be rude. "Uhm, I guess? I don't know yet. Why?" 

"We're having a poetry slam at the art hall, you might be interested. I saw some good stuff you wrote in your notebook" you smile, hoping that it doesn't freak him out that you saw one of his works. 

His eyes widened, "oh, okay cool I guess I can try. But I have somewhere to be right now, I'll see you..around." And he awkwardly walks off. 

You furrow your brows because of his strange mannerisms, but he seemed like no trouble at all. In fact, it was kind of cute, how awkward he was. 

------ 

It was time for Johnny's football tryouts. Given that he was already good at it during the time that he was actually in college.

Johnny was naturally a sociable person, he blended well with crowds and easily made friends. That's why this was the perfect place for him to be in. He sits himself at the bench while he wears the spare uniforms from the team and is greeted by a dude that was a little shorter than he was, "Goodluck" the boy with ash purple hair says. 

"Thanks!" he enthusiastically replies. 

"Captain! We need you for a sec." the coach calls, then the boy who has wished him luck gets up and reports to the coach. Well, he did give off an impression of one. He was highly presentable, his smile was hospitable, his form was great and his attitude was pleasant. Everything else—was just the ideal makings of a captain. 

The tryouts start and Johnny looks around for Mark, who had just arrived and casually sat himself on the bleachers, waving at Johnny from afar. As the tryouts went on and finished, the coach praised everyone who attended for a job well done and announced the new members who had qualified. All of which included Johnny of course. 

"Hey man, great job out there." The captain is back on Johnny's side to praise him. 

"Yeah, thanks. I'm Rolan by the way." He introduces himself.

"Of course I know, I was the one who picked you from the list." He laughs, "Jaehyun. Jeong Jaehyun." 

-----

"Hey!" Mark hears a familiar voice faintly calling his name. He searches for it but takes him awhile because of how wide the campus is. "Over here two stapper," you chuckle and he finally sees. 

"Oh hey," he muttered quite embarrassed at how awkward he was. 

He takes a seat next to you at the bench near the hall of the poetry slam event, he wanted to go together. "Chilly night huh? I should've brought my sweater.." You trail off, rubbing your arms for warmth. 

You didn't mean for it to come off that way, but Mark willingly takes off his jacket and offers it to you. "Oh it's alright really-" you insist.

"No it's fine, I'm from Canada, this is nothing." He laughs. 

You nod your head with his remark, and proceed to wear his jacket. It was quite big on you, but it was definitely cozy. "Shall we go?" You ask, standing up.

He nods and lets you lead him to the hall. The campus was only lit by lamp posts at this hour, but there were many sculptures in the school of arts that he had wished to see better. Well, there was always next time. 

The both of you enter the hall which was quite filled with students already. It had been set up like a cafe, with a small platform in front that was lit with a spotlight. 

"Give it up for Naya Kim everybody!" the emcee announces, encouraging everyone to give the person a round of applause after presenting a spoken word. "Do we have another volunteer?' 

The crowd falls silent as everyone looks around, mindlessly making eye contact with each other, waiting on who was going next. 

"Anyone?" The emcee taps the mic. 

"I have one!" You yell, and Mark looks at you with wide eyes. 

"Dude no-" he resists, trying to shrink himself into his chair. 

"C'mon it'll be fun!" You nudge his shoulder, "We have Kalen over here!" You grab his wrist and raise his arm for him, even if he was resisting it, he had no choice. 

The emcee squints and eyes the both of you and acknowledges you volunteering your new friend. "Alright we have Kalen next! Stage is yours." The emcee steps off. 

He had all eyes on him now, eyes hungry of anticipation and to witness raw talent amongst themselves. 

"G-good evening everyone." he greets, holding onto the mic tightly and takes a deep breath. His expression changes into a serious one. 

Will it ever come? 

The nights know me well. 

I was a frequent by-passer but now I am no stranger. 

A boy who grew up with sharks does not need to be taught how to swim.

Good night,

These words feel like the vast sky

Darkness, but not hollow.

Black but not bitter. 

After he recites his poem he becomes flustered again from the faint applause he had received from the audience that was present, he puts the mic back to its stand and does a small bow. 

"Not bad, tiger" You pat him on the back. There was more to him than what meets the eye, you just knew. 

"You think so?" He says with hopeful eyes. 

"Yeah!" You assure him. 

The rest of the evening passes by with the both of you having a splendid time watching others unleash their passion and talent for reciting spoken word and poetry. Some were tear jerking and some were downright hilarious. So this is college. Mark thinks to himself.

In the past he had always been a loner who didn't go to many parties because of his strict and conservative parents. 

 He was way beyond his borders now. But he couldn't get carried away. No, this isn't a time for him to redeem himself from his early years, this was time for him to perform his duties. So he snaps out of his little daydream. 

As the both of you were seated at the bench in front of the hall where he found you, he had asked you about your major. 

"Fine arts." you laugh bitterly.

"What's wrong? You don't seem like you're happy with it…" He trails off, swinging his feet that was hanging off the bench. 

You shake your head no, "I am. It's just that my parents don't really know I took this course. I told them I got a scholarship and they were just relieved that they didn't have to pay anymore. Otherwise they'd force me into some business course or something "more practical"" you emphasize with air quotes. 

"I see. Okay so fine arts huh?" He tries to lighten the mood. "What can you say about that one over there?" Mark points to the sculpture to your left, about 20 metres away. 

"They're like two beings, leaning on each other" you pause, dramatically for impact, "They support each other so one doesn't fall." you interpret. 

He seems impressed, then asks "Support huh? How about you? Do you have anyone—who supports you?" 

"Hm, not really, no. I like to be alone and just spend time with myself." Your eyes wander but all you could think about is how he's looking at you with such attentiveness and interest.

He chuckles, "I feel you. You know I'm an expert at being alone. Don't you just love it when you're in a room full of people but no one gives a shit about your presence?" He claps his hands together just once then purses his lips into a bitter lopsided smile. "Yep. Had a lot of those." He masks his personal statement with humor.

"Well," You say, kicking the shortly-trimmed grass on the building's lawn. "If you don't wanna be alone, you walk me to my dorm" you offer.

He looks around and takes no time to think about it, feeling that it was unsafe for you to go alone. "Sure." He smiles.

The walk to your dorm was silent but comfortable. You weren't sure if he was quite a talker or just shy. But one thing you couldn't get out of your head was how unconventionally attractive he was. You've never gotten a vibe like his before and you've been in this university for 2 years already. You wanted to get something out of him even if it takes you to be the bold one here. 

"We're here," You whisper, looking at him seductively. Like you were a puppy begging to not be left alone. "Do you wanna come in? My roommate left for the weekend" you smirk. 

Mark gulps. He had been resisting this kind of tension he had with you ever since he met you. But you made it so hard. "Come on," you say, putting your hand at the back of his neck while tracing mindless patterns on it with your finger. 

"My brother he might be-" 

"Oh you have a brother? Is he hot?" You joke. 

His eyes are wide with stitched eyebrows. But eventually catches on. "Nah." and he pulls you closer to him by the waist. His eyes now staring at you deeply, so hungrily like he was that tiger you called him as earlier. Come and get it.

Without any words said, he had finally crashed his lips onto yours. And you kissed him hard. Like you wanted to have him to all yourself at that very moment. Your tongue grazes his lower lip, begging for entrance which he had granted. Your tongues meshed together at a quick pace, with the heat of your core starting to throb. 

You push yourself closer to him and you start to feel his prominence and unconsciously grind on his jeans, making him grunt. You break the kiss for a quick moment, his eyes are glazed and his mouth agape, out of breath. You turn around and enter the code to your dorm and pull him inside. 

For a brief moment that your bodies were detached, Mark couldn't stop wanting more. Not even thinking the slightest of the consequences of this act that will dawn upon him if it ever gets out. 

You were back to slamming your body with his as you took off his jacket, making it fall to the floor. His hands snake underneath your shirt and started roaming around your body while he peppered kisses on your neck. With a swift flick of his fingers he had unclasped your bra and his hands groped your breasts, you threw your head back as he buried his face in your clothed cleavage. Like he was begging for this bothersome piece of clothing to be gone. 

You grant his invisible wish and quickly lift your shirt off, while your bra falls off your arms naturally, his mouth watering at the sight. You trace his abs underneath his shirt, your core getting wetter with how toned they were based on your touch.

And you didn’t doubt the results one bit. When you lift his shirt, his torso was delicately lean, toned in all the right places that your mouth could water at the sight of it. You bite your lip and roll your eyes at the sensation of him sucking your tits, his grip on you intense but gentle. 

“I don’t have condoms right now, so this is going to be all about you.” He whispers seductively, feeling your wetness through your soaked panties. You softly moan at the sensation and hungrily kiss him again, not having any moment to waste. 

When he slides two fingers to massage your folds, you whimper. "Fuck," you breathe. 

"God, that's hot." He says with a hitched breath. You couldn't possibly get any more turned on right now. 

When he slips his digits in your cunt—you go fucking insane. You haven't felt this good in quite a while, it made you ecstatic to remember how fucking good this feeling was, you hoped that this wouldn't be the last. Mark was different.

He picks up his pace, and you try to keep your composure, but the forced arch of your back says otherwise. You grab a pillow to cover your face, scared that you would be too loud and get caught, or else this would be the last time for the both of you. 

“My fucking God.” You whimper, pulling Mark’s head on your chest, holding onto him for dear life because you just entirely lost control of it all. He finishes you off like his life depended on it, licking your wetness from his fingers, savouring it, then wipes his fingers on his jeans.

“You were so good to me, yeah?” He chuckles when you are left speechless.

“What about you?” You ask, looking at his crotch that was painfully hard. 

“It’s- It’s alright. You don’t have to” He says, and it makes your heart thaw like ice. You didn’t deserve him. 

“But I want to.” You plead, you couldn’t possibly resist him. “Come here,” You say, rubbing your palm against his jeans.

You didn’t waste anymore time and unzipped his pants, lowering it with his boxers just enough t make his cock lightly hit his stomach. His size is definitely more than what you expected.  You take his wet, glistening cock in your hands and pump it gently, smirking in satisfaction when you hear him hiss and moan softly. 

“Can you keep it down for me, tiger? We might not be able to do this again,” You coo, and he obediently nods, grazing your lower lip with his tongue, asking for entrance which you gladly grant but not for long. 

You smile as you lowered your head down to his throbbing member, licking the precum that had escaped the tip. Mark bites his lip, trying to keep as quiet as possible. You slowly put his dick in your mouth, testing a few times how far you could go. He bucks his hips by accident, making you gag very slightly. “I’m so sorry,” He strokes your hair away from your face. You keep going until you reach the brim, a throaty moan escapes his lips when he couldn’t take it anymore. 

You bob your head up and down in a consistent pace while he holds your hair, “You’re such a good girl” He says, throwing his head back. You keep going until you feel tears slowly coming out of your eyes and tried to hollow your cheeks as much as possible, he was so close. 

“You don’t have to swallow,” he says, pulling back from you. Nonsense. You were more than willing to. 

“I want to.” You say, putting his cock back in your mouth. 

With a few last pumps, his member twitches in your mouth and you feel his warm release and take it all in. You wipe the sides of your mouth as you finish, giving him a sweet smile. 

After the both of you pass out on your bed, Mark has lost track of time and receives a text from Johnny. 

"Dude where the fuck are you? Do you know what time it is?" 

Mark jolts up and checks the time, 2:45am. Shit, he was screwed. He quickly gathers his clothes that had been thrown around your room and dresses himself in panic. 

"I'm sorry, uh Joh- Rolan, my brother has been waiting for me at our dorm, I lost track of time and i think he'll beat my dick off," He nervously chuckles, almost forgetting to use his fake identity again. He has got to get used to it.

"Not if i did it first" You both burst out laughing. "Alright, I'll see you in class." You say, snuggling yourself in your blanket and shutting your eyes. 

He leaves your dorm quietly and runs a hand through his hair before giving Johnny a call. 

"Dude listen-"

"Are you fucking around Mark?" Johnny answers, clearly enraged. 

Mark was scared as shit but never misses the chance to fuck around Johnny. "I might've." 

"Get your ass back here, Lee" 

"Ayt." 

He slips his phone back to his pocket and starts walking briskly to their dorm. Damn this campus was mad creepy that it actually brought chills to his body. He wondered why he felt so cold then realized he left his jacket at your place. It was too late for him to get it back so he settled by running to warm his body up. 

Finally, he was back at the dorm. He hesitates to turn the doorknob because he knows he will be dead meat or nagged to death by Johnny. Or not. 

"Where you been huh?" Johnny examines him, standing up from his bed. He sniffs Mark and the latter flinches. "You smell like sex!" He slaps his shoulder. 

"You crazy? Some expert or something" Mark brushes him off. Wincing at the sting Johnny's palm gave to the skin of his shoulder.

"I should know, Mark." His mood was lighter now. "But who did you fu- i mean have sex with? we just got here wildcat"

"A girl I met in class like uh… awhile ago" The younger bites his lip trying to keep a smile from escaping his lips. He shouldn't be feeling this giddy over a rule that he broke for you. 

Johnny could not believe what he was hearing right now, "Dang. Cheeky boy." He laughs, actually feeling happy for Mark. He can have a little fun, Johnny had his back when it came to these things.

The elder changes the topic and lets this slide. Johnny talks about the leads he gathered from hanging out with the football team. Which were still very much confusing since this substance is all over the campus. Meanwhile, Mark didn't have much besides that number he gave Johnny. Considering he was with the "decent" crowd of people today.

---

The two head to their quarters to report to their chief the next day, trying to ask for help on how they could improve this investigation. 

The chief dumps a folder on the table and says, "This is what the deputy gave us recently. Take a look." He opens the folder into a specific case file to discuss with the two. 

"Who's this?" Mark points at the picture of a girl, who seemed like they were around the same age as the people at University. 

"Lee Minjung." the chief rubs his hands together. "Took some NCT and got locked out of her dorm, so she ended up falling off the roof and dying." The two are shocked by this revelation, it was more serious than they thought. 

The chief flips a page, "Here's a picture of her buying the drug." The photograph had two people in it, one that had a visible face which was Minjung, and one guy who's back was facing the camera. He wore a hat so they couldn't really tell who it was. But one thing they could point out is the reflection on the window of the car beside them.

"Dude, look at this," Mark points out his observation to Johnny. "He has a tattoo, we could start with this." 

"Bingo. There's your lead." The chief closes the folder and puts it back in his file. "The next time you get back here your asses better be presenting me some actual progress. Understand?" 

"Yes sir." 

----

Johnny and Mark head to the resident tattoo artist that was near the university, apparently they do most of the tattoos of the students there. 

"Excuse me," They knocked on the table of the artist who was currently at the back of the shop.

The tattoo artist arrives out front and asks how they could help the two. 

"We're looking for this tattoo, is it familiar to you?" Johnny asks while showing the artists the photograph.

The artist tries to think hard, but gives a hasty answer. "I'm not sure, there's too many of them who got that." 

Mark pushes the subject, "Them? Do you think it's some kind of group tattoo?" 

"I guess so. They were boys, all of them. Very masculine, had the body of an athlete if I were to put it at that." The artist states. 

Mark and Johnny look at each other as if there were light bulbs above their heads. "Thank you!" Mark says and they run off the shop. 

The possibility of this being in the football team was huge. They were athletes, and under a lot of pressure. They had reasons to use this drug but it wasn't an excuse for them not to eliminate this. They had to get to the bottom of this before it ends up like Minjung's case again. 

---

Johnny was at football practice while Mark stood by the bleachers, watching the team and trying to look out as usual until Johnny calls him over to come down for a bit. 

"Jaehyun, this is Kalen, my brother." He introduces him. With his assigned name. 

Jaehyun chortles in disbelief when he sees Mark. "You have a brother?" He asks and Johnny nods. 

"Sup," Mark tries to give him a bro hug, but Jaehyun shakes his hand instead. 

Jaehyun pays no mind to Mark's presence and diverts his attention back to Johnny and proceeds to talk about their game plan.

When practice ends he tells Johnny that the football team plans to host a party tonight. It would be the perfect opportunity for them to keep an eye on everyone. 

"Can I come?" Mark asks.

Jaehyun eyes him from the side, "Yeah uh sure" and only bids goodbye to Johnny. "See ya bro." 

Mark could already feel that he didn't belong in this crowd, but he and Johnny had to stick together and investigate. 

The night of the party came and the two brothers were stoked. "Our first frat party." Mark thought. 

"Your first frat party." Johnny spat playfully, trying to meticulously style and wax his hair. 

Mark scoffs, still trying to figure out what shirt to wear but at the end, he settles with a navy blue Ralph Lauren shirt. He was too lazy to fix his hair and wears a cap instead. 

Johnny tosses Mark something that he thinks the younger might need later on. 

"Are you for real? A condom?" A baffled Mark says in disbelief, but sliding it in his pocket anyway.

"You'll never know wildcat. You'll never know." He gives him a mischievous wink.

This wasn't just any party to them, this was an operation. Though they chose to leave for the party unarmed, they were thankfully trained well for hand to hand combat, just in case things went extremely wrong. But that was besides the point, they couldn't destroy their chances of blending in.

When the tandem arrives at the party, the elder was the only one to be greeted enthusiastically, Mark shakes it off simply because being friends with these jocks were the last thing on his list. It was Johnny's call if it didn't work for him, they had their roles. 

"Go around for a bit, I'll take care of him." Johnny whispers to Mark with a drink already in his hand.  

Mark shrugs his shoulders and explores the frat house, lit with red and blue, music blaring through speakers and the muffled conversations from the people that filled it. 

Nothing seemed too off the bat here, it was everything you would expect a frat party to be. There hasn't been a trace of NCT anywhere, or maybe it was because they were being taken too discreetly. 

"Want some?" a random guy nudges him, discreetly handing a packet of the substance. He takes it and plays it cool. 

"Yo, sick. Thanks man." He pats him on the back. 

“Yo it’s not free.” The guy laughs then it disappears. “20 bucks.”

Mark's smile fades, embarrassed. Thank god he brought his wallet. “Here. Thanks.”

"Don't sweat it." and he gives him a small salute.

Mark quickly slides it in his pocket, to keep as evidence later. 

"Bad boy." You snake your hands around his shoulders. "Want some?" You offer your red punch with vodka. 

His eyes widen, but eases under your touch. Finally, someone who's familiar. Overly familiar. "Hey, y/n" he shakes his head no. "I don't feel like drinking tonight" he makes up an excuse. 

"So are you…" 

"Am i?" 

"Are you going to take that?" You say, pointing at the pocket where he hid it.

Uncertain, he shakes his head no. "But should I? Have you ever had one of these?" 

"Oh god no." You say in disgust. "I have seen people's reactions to it though. It's borderline batshit crazy, those things." You explain. Hoping that he wouldn't ever try taking those. You knew about the whole Minjung incident. "One of the girls who lived next door died because of it." 

Your remark sparks an interest in him. "Minjung?" He questions. This could be a big help to their operation. But it wasn't a good time to interrogate you.

You raise your brows, "How'd you know her name?" 

He fakes a cough and tries to quickly think of a reason. "Mr- Mr. Benett told us. He said that recently a student passed away but never said it was because of the drug…" 

You crease up, "That old man is fucking clueless." You cross your arms. "But I'm just looking out for you okay? There's safer ways to have fun." 

"Right " He pursues a smile.

Too much fun wasn't part of the plan tonight but you made it difficult for him to do his job. Effortlessly. 

You fake a pout. "C'mon tiger, live a little! It's not going to be that bad." You try to convince him, wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to keep your drink from spilling, his arms naturally overlapping and resting just right above your ass.

To hell with this. He's been dreaming of this his entire life. After being in such a conservative family and all, he deserved to try new things out. He was old enough. He thinks to himself, while catching a glimpse of Johnny chugging down a keg. "You're right." he smirks, and you offer your drink for him to taste. 

Mark's face scrunches a little from the alcohol, but it felt nice. Good enough for him to grab you by the arm and head to get one himself. 

He scans the counter full of different drinks with a variety of colored juices. He chooses the blue lemonade with vodka which you gladly made, handing him the red plastic cup after. "Cheers" you say, delighted with the smile he gave you. 

It wasn't long enough until the both of you were back to dancing again, not giving a care like everyone else. He could kiss you right now. And he did, he couldn't miss the opportunity to make your tongues turn purple. 

----

Johnny has done everything with all his might to get along with these jocks, kids these days do party harder huh? He doesn't remember having this kind of intolerance to alcohol before, he had to get it out of his system before he forgets what he's really here for.  

"Nah this dude's a goner!" Yuta enthusiastically points at Johnny, who now had both of his hands on his knees. 

"Hold on, I gotta have some air outside" he raises his arms in defeat, words slurring out of his mouth and vision so blurred he could barely tell where he's going. Finally after much stumbling and ending up in filthy corners, he managed to find a bathroom. Not a usable one though.

"Oh god- sorry" He says as he sees two people fucking each other's guts out on on the sink. "Nevermind" he immediately shuts the door and leaves them alone. It didn't take long for him to just head outside and vomit on the lawn of the frat house. Oh yes, great fertilizer. 

Johnny regains a very small amount of composure and he felt someone tap and rub his back. "You okay?" Jaehyun chuckles, with a drunk Yuta tagging along.

Johnny takes a deep breath and tries to stand straight with all his might, trying to act like everything was under control. "Shits wild here" He chaffs, but his brows furrow when he sees a familiar pattern on Yuta's skin. "What's that you got there?" Johnny tries to reach for the latter's arm carefully. 

Yuta excitedly raises his sleeve, revealing a tattoo. "Oh this? It's a tattoo man. Gotta get inked at some point!" Yuta says, proudly. "Do you want one? I know a place!"

Jaehyun sighs. He was hyperactive again. "Yuta-"

"What? C'mon look I got this as soon as I got out of my parent's house. Those folks made me feel like I was in jail!" The drunk boy overshares. Johnny pays attention because there was a possibility that these thoughts were sober. 

Johnny was quickly disappointed, but not surprised. "Yeah? That's cool. I'll pass. Kinda scared of needles..." He trails off. 

"Pfft. Pussy." Yuta spat, Johnny was ready to give him a piece of his knuckles. 

Jaehyun blocks Johnny with his arm, "Cut him some slack man, I've known this guy since high school. Let him have his fun. He won't even remember this." 

The three head back inside to enjoy the rest of the party when the duo completely forget what they were initially here for. Johnny had spent the rest of the night enjoying himself, so did Mark.

You and Mark decided to play along with the drinking games these people planned, with the faces that you will surely forget by tomorrow. 

You've already had a couple to drink, so it became harder for you to aim in beer pong. Luckily, Mark was right behind you, with a steady grip on your hips and one arm helping you aim for the ball. 

You close one eye trying to focus as he helped you aim for the cup. "She shoots, she scores!" he shouts playfully and there goes another drink for you. 

"You still alright? We can stop if you want," He whispers, lips tingling on your collarbone, sending chills to your spine. 

You turn to face him, a gentle hand on his lean chest. "I want you.".  You whisper, dragging a painfully slow finger to his lips. You were so knit together that you could feel the growing tent in his pants on your throbbing core. He was irresistible. 

He gulps. Here comes nothing. Johnny sure knows his shit huh?

Mark quickly leads you upstairs, looking for a vacant room to settle in. He turned the knobs one by one but they were all locked, your last resort was a surprisingly available restroom. 

"Will this do for you?" Mark hesitates, because he didn't want you to feel uncomfortable.

Your tipsy self playfully pinches his cheek, "You do it for me, tiger." And it was enough to drive him to the edge. 

As soon as the both of you enter the bathroom, your lips connect once again, sloppily kissing each other like you were out of your minds. Like you wanted to swallow and consume this man whole. 

"I want you to see for yourself how crazy you make me." You say through the slapdash kisses.

He puts a hand under your dress, feeling your drenched cunt. "You're so fucking wet. Is this all for me?" He says out of breath, mouth almost watering with the thought of your pussy in his mouth.

"All yours baby." You bite his lower lip and stick out your tongue for him to suck. 

He raises your dress just below your ribcage and slides down your black lace lingerie as it fell to your ankles, "Just so you know, I'm keeping this." Mark smirks as he quickly puts it in his pocket. 

"It's meant to be yours," You purr, setting your back flat on the cold tiled wall, throwing your head back at the sensation of Mark leaving wet kisses on your thighs. 

He kneels and places your legs over his shoulders, lifting your feet off the ground. He was sturdy as a rock as his two arms held your thighs for support while you removed his cap for you to wear over your head and your fingers to be locked in his hair. 

"Fuck." You hiss as his tongue lapped on your folds, slurping on your wetness like he worshiped you. He sucked repeatedly on your clit making your legs tremble, so good that you might fall over but his reflexes were out of his world and he knew where exactly to support you. 

Your eyes painfully roll to the back of your head from the sensation he was giving you, "God, Kalen don't fucking stop-" you moan and you swear this man had some spell casted on his mouth by how magical it worked. 

You grind your hips involuntarily as his mouth followed it, like this could not get any better than it already was. But you could only take so much. "Kalen I'm gonna cum, fuck" 

"It's not over until it's over baby," he sets you down and removes his mouth from your pussy, you could barely stand with your legs feeling like absolute gelatin. 

Mark gets a condom out of his pocket and quickly unbuckles his belt, making his jeans fall to the ground and expose his throbbing cock, boxers wet with precum. 

"You think you can last longer for me baby girl?" 

You could only nod your head eagerly because you were growing extremely impatient. 

He wraps your legs around his waist in a swift move. "Good girl" He whispers, and you were more than ready to take him. Again and again. 

He inserts himself inside you, stretching your walls and you whimper, wrapping your arms around his head to keep his face close to the valley of your breasts. 

"That's right, open up for me, pretty girl." He pleads as he continues to thrust in a steady pace. Breath hitched as he brought his face up to you, slurping your tongue once more like it was a popsicle that he couldn't get enough of. "Taking me so well like always huh?" he chuckles and picks up his pace, throaty moans escaping his mouth. 

Thank fuck the music in this house was loud enough to blow off people's eardrums, making your moans almost inaudible outside, but loud enough for Marks pleasure. For his ears only. 

“Fuck I’m almost-” Mark huffs, “there.” he breathes. When his pace becomes sloppy and finally comes, you hold onto him, your legs numb that you could barely stand on your own. Conscious with the fact that Mark will get to see how fucked out you look, but he absolutely loved it. 

-----

"What'd I tell ya? That condom didn't go to waste." Johnny snickers while laying in bed, tossing his football. 

Head in the clouds with the thought of you, Mark could only smile to himself but quickly changes the subject before they both lose all purpose. 

"Find anything out yet?" Mark asks mindlessly, because all he could think about was you. 

"Nope." Johnny says, popping the p. He lied.

And something clicks with Mark. That packet of NCT he managed to keep in his pocket. He rushes over to his hamper and flips the pockets of his pants. 

"Someone handed it to me yesterday, I kept it for evidence to bring at the headquarters." He hands the packet to Johnny.

The elder observes it, trying to push the thought of Yuta possibly being a dealer to the very back of his head right now. Give it time. Mark was just starting to enjoy being with you, Johnny has been enjoying being one of the new aces in the football team, it wouldn't hurt to hold it out for a little while. 

"Also," Mark adds, "Y/n knows about Minjung. Said she lived across the hall."

"And?" Johnny anticipates. 

"That's all I know for now. It's still a big step though." Mark concludes.

----

Johnny spends his free time hanging with Jaehyun and the rest of the boys. If not in practice, they hit the gym to always be in tip-top shape. 

Yuta swings a heavy arm over Johnny's shoulders, "Well isn't it our quitter!" 

Johnny shoots Jaehyun a look, "You told me he wouldn't remember." 

Jaehyun could only chuckle, "Well he did." 

Yuta was loud as a goose, he seemed to have so much more energy than the other members of the team that Johnny became suspicious of where it came from. 

He recalls the time when the chief described the effects of the NCT substance, and one of them was being focused and hyperactive.

Yuta, besides being silly, was on top of his own game. After joking around he was a hundred percent focused on the gym, his reps were consistent, his routines were clean. Jaehyun tells Johnny that Yuta was also one of the greatest instruments of the football team. Though not gifted with the brightest mind, he worked hard to stay in this university to prove his parents wrong—and to avoid business school.

He was a potential heir to a known electronics company in Japan, but he insisted that he pursue being part of the varsity team to keep his scholarship in sports science. Which until now was an endless debate between him and his parents. 

Jaehyun had invited Johnny to stay over at the frat house to hang out, and he did. 

It was different to see it in daylight, with no people partying, no vomit and crushed chips on the floor, it looked well taken care of. 

"You guys clean this up yourselves after every party?" Johnny asks, impressed. 

"Yep," Jaehyun proudly says. 

"You gotta look out for the shit they leave behind here. It's amusing." Yuta retorts. 

Johnny raises a brow, "Oh yeah? Like what?" 

Without wit, Yuta replies, "Drugs"

Johnny, absolutely being taken back by his bold remark was immediately clutched by Jaehyun, "He doesn't mean it." 

His suspicion grew so much that he couldn't help but finally bring up the subject. "Like what? Like NCT?" he enunciates. 

Jaehyun, quite astounded by Johnny's knowledge with the substance replies, "Hm maybe. You know about that?" 

And he was in the trance. "Heard of it yeah, can you hook me up with some?

"Oh sure it’s right-" Yuta reaches for his pocket, "here." and sticks his middle finger out playfully. Johnny swats it away.

"Woah there-" Jaehyun almost bust a gut while laughing. "You're definitely new to this. We don't have any." He tells Johnny. "Don't be such a narc." 

Way too defensively, Johnny retorts, "I'm not!"

"That's what they all say." Yuta shrugs with a chuckle.

 He spends the rest of the afternoon with them and surprisingly hasn't dealt with unusual rituals and behavior. They acted their age, playing games on a PS5, drinking soda until their bladders exploded, filling themselves with junk food and spray cheese. He could be wrong about them after all.

----

Days passed and not a single thing has led them closer to their target person, it was harder than they thought even when everything felt like it was right in front of them. 

"Student-Parent day is coming soon, are you going?" You ask Mark as you take a sip of your coffee. 

You took him to your favorite coffee shop for the first time, it's a nice and quiet place for you to study and relax. 

"They have those?" Mark hesitates because then he'd have to tell his parents that he's undercover and they'd forget and blow it for him. "I guess so." 

"Good. Because I'd like you to meet my parents." You smile. Though you didn't know where you stood with Mark, the past few weeks with him had been a breath of fresh air. He was kind, funny and supportive. He was simple yet his ways of showing his thoughts were sophisticated, never had you once thought that you would get along so well with a person in such a short time. You weren't the one to ask for labels though. You simply liked to enjoy whatever you had at the moment. In your experience, putting labels on things just always gave a reason for it to vanish. 

"What why?" He says, a little too surprised.

"Look Kalen, don't break a sweat with this. I'm just going to introduce you. They won't mind." You assure him. 

He simply leaves the topic behind and ponders on how he could make this work. He was scared because you had no idea that this was all temporary, and he's terrified by the fact that he wishes it wasn't. He was finding all the possible reasons and excuses to retract himself from this relationship he has with you, but all you ever gave him was a reason to stay. It broke his heart knowing that one day, he'll have to disappoint you with the truth. 

"Something wrong?" 

He snaps out of it. "Nothing." and forces a smile. 

-----

"We aren't making any progress man," Mark runs a hand through his hair and sighs. His back falls heavily on his bed.

Johnny anxiously bites his lap, eyes fixated on the floor. "Yuta has a tattoo…" 

"What?" the younger jolts up. 

Johnny backs up defensively, "But it wasn't the one we saw! You know how the tattoo artist said he's done a couple of those."

"Are you shitting me right now? We've been trying to find it for weeks! Why didn't you tell me?" His voice raises, and a vein on his forehead couldn't help but emerge. 

"I don't think it's him man, I told you it’s not the same tattoo" Johnny defends. 

Mark lets out a pungent laugh, poking his tongue on the inside of his cheek, his jaw stiffens. "Right. I knew it. " He says in disbelief. "Everything's right in front of you already! Too scared to bust your new besties now?" 

"They aren't my new besties stop making up bullshit." The elder stubbornly defends. 

"No you stop because I'm actually trying here!" 

"Oh you are? Explain why you're getting so serious with that girl of yours. Wait until she finds out that she's just part of the plan." He jumps on Mark's throat and walks out of the room. 

The thing is, you weren't even part of the plan. Not at all. 

-----

"You better have good shit for me today." The chief clearly was not being in his best mood today. 

Mark scoffs, he and Johnny had not settled their differences since the fight from two days ago, they were doing their own investigations without communicating. Which was a big no.

"Ask the big guy here, I'm sure he has something." Tongue in his cheek, Mark glares. 

The chief slams a big hand on the table and shouts, "Stop acting like fucking children!" 

Johnny stiffened up on his seat, and gulped before he spoke. "I think we need to initiate a drug test on one of the students, chief. I have my eye on this one person. We could pretend to say that the thing is randomized and mandatory. If the intel can look up information about his parents, we could send a pretend automated message about their child being randomly selected for a drug test." 

The chief seems to be taking Johnny's point well, "And who is this you suspect?" 

"Nakamoto Yuta." 

Mark looks at Johnny with wide eyes, he thought Johnny wouldn't be turning him in. 

"I see. I'll get the department to execute this idea of yours and we'll let you know right away. Dismissed." 

Mark catches up to Johnny who had been walking ahead of him and tries to reach for the elder's shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

"Let go of me," Johnny knocks Mark's hand off his shoulder. "Are you happy now?" 

Dumbfounded, Mark couldn't seem to understand where Johnny's irritation was coming from. "Look man, I'm sorry you had to turn one of your friends in but you know it's our job." 

"I know okay? I don't need you telling me what to do because so far, I know pretty damn well that I'm not meddling in your fucking business." 

Mark pushes a hard hand on Johnny, making him stumble a little. "My relationship has nothing to do with this. Are you jealous? Because if you are, I know pretty damn well you can score a lot of chicks here. I don't see the problem." 

Johnny tries to speak but was unable to because Mark had already stormed off elsewhere. 

----

 "Shit. My parents are coming to fetch me today." Yuta runs a veiny hand through his ginger hair; another reason for his parents to pull him out of university. But here's the first: 

Jaehyun, disinterested even if he knew it was serious whenever Yuta's parents butt in and ask why.

"They wanna do a drug test on me." 

Jaehyun chortles, "What? You? What made them think that? Besides you acting like a crackhead?" 

"They got this stupid email from the dean that I was amongst the randomly chosen individuals to get tested." He pops a sour kid patch in his mouth, "They're never letting this go." He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. "I have never even tried NCT." he rolls his eyes. 

Yuta, though by the looks of him, gave an impression of a boy who would try everything in front of him, but he's a wuss with a good conscience. Too good.

"Well, you are innocent after all, right?" Jaehyun shrugs. "There's nothing to worry about. Um, besides your dyed hair, your tattoo, that lip piercing." He eyes him up and down. "No biggie, just probably uh—two weeks worth of grounding. And no allowance." 

"Fuck you man." the ginger-haired boy glared.

------

Johnny walks around the campus, alone. It sucked to not be on good terms with Mark, what ever happened to bros before hoes? It just wasn't the same doing things without him. Johnny had given Mark his personal space for the both of you, but at times like this—it was the hardest to stay out of it. 

As he passes by the back of the Fine Arts building, he sees two familiar faces on the exposed staircase. 

He squints his eyes and tries to focus on who those people might be, the mop of ash purple hair too familiar. But one thing that utterly shocked him was the sight of someone he expected the least.

It was you and Jaehyun, standing way too close to each other for anyone's liking.

Johnny takes a deep breath and sucks in his cheeks. He didn't know what this meant, and he wished he wouldn't have to be the one to give it any interpretation that would disappoint him and especially Mark. 

He walks away from the scene before you get a chance to see him.

"Jaehyun, you don't have to stand this close to me," You backed up, hips hitting the ledge lightly. 

He looks to the side, then back at you. "Sorry," he cockily says, backing up with both of his hands raised. "Can't help it. My best friend's too fine. And someone was looking." he mumbles.

"What?" 

"Nothing, he's gone"

"You know I'm with Kalen right now Jaehyun." You say with worry, it could've been anyone. "Quit. Don't ruin this for me." 

He manages to let a disgruntled chuckle, "And yet you still can't put a label on it." 

And with that, he was off. 

The entire time Johnny was battling with himself if she should tell Mark about what he saw or not. Them being in a misunderstanding right now doesn't change the fact that he was still his best friend. 

After the excruciatingly slow walk to the dorm, he had hoped that Mark wouldn't be around, so he wouldn't have to face him with the information he had right away. He couldn't even form the words for it. The. again, when did anything ever go his way, right? 

Johnny enters the room and there was Mark, munching on some chips while viewing something on his laptop. Something probably for one of his classes. Mark didn't have to take this so seriously (by this he meant his classes) but he did, because the Mark we all know just loved to learn. Good for him. 

He ignores Johnny's presence; though he was very much aware of it. The elder plops down his bed and grabs his football to toss around. It was so awkward; not greeting each other with their usual weirdness and excitement. It felt like there was this gaping hole between them that both of them were afraid to cross, and no one had the initiative to take a risk—for now. 

"Find anything?" Johnny asks Mark, eyes on the ceiling. 

"Nope." 

"Why not?" 

"Do you have anything?"

Well, he did. But not about their task. Instead, he says "Nope." but he couldn’t help but ask. “How are you and y/n?”

“Good.” Mark plainly answers.

“Good.”

And left it at that. 

-----

You were going to let your parents meet Mark today, and his would meet yours. You were new to this, there was not a single man you had introduced to your parents, aside from Jaehyun. But that was a different story, because Jaehyun was a childhood friend. 

So Mark was the first… whatever this was called. You couldn’t get yourself to call him that, you didn’t deserve to. For you labels were earned, not just given. But this will do for now. 

You see him from a distance with his parents, he resembled his father’s face structure and his mother’s eyes. His smile was uniquely his own. You wave a hand in the air and he catches the sight of it, smiling even wider. 

“You’re in college again honey?” Mark’s mom asks, clueless.

“Mom, I'm undercover please don’t bring that up anywhere. Please keep quiet for me.” He whispers sternly. 

His mom zips her mouth figuratively, his dad got the idea of the whole thing, so they acted according to the assignment. 

As he got closer to where you were, his legs grew weak. But he couldn’t falter, he had to put on a strong face. But at that moment, Mark wanted to be buried alive. He wanted to turn his back and run away.

“Mom, dad, this is Kalen.” You present him to them with a grin. 

“H-hello.” Mark lets out, his chest clenching. 

“Kalen. You sure I haven’t seen you before?” Your father says, gripping Mark’s hand firm, he could almost squeeze the guts out of it. Your father was his deputy chief. 

Mark, crushed under the man’s grip, “N-no sir.” he manages to blurt out. 

You sense the tension and tell your dad, “Dad, that’s enough.” 

Your dad let go, with a smug and bitter look on his face. Your mom, who- with absolutely no idea what Mark has to do with your father, greets him politely. 

You greet Mark's parents with glee, and proceed to walk with him, keeping a fair distance from both your parents. "Sorry about my dad, he's just stressed about his job. He's a deputy chief, rustling with knuckleheads all the time." You explain. 

Sure he's been through a lot. Mark thought. "Yea yea, I totally get it. It's fine." he nods. Knuckleheads. He laughs to himself. 

The rest of the parents’ day event was a total drag, every time Mark got into eye contact with their chief, it had seemed like the man wanted to rip his head away from his body, or maybe skin him alive. Mark had no idea, because if he did he wouldn’t have risked going this far with you. What is left to do now? How can he ever face his boss knowing that he broke the first rule given to them right in his face? And with his own daughter? He should start digging his own grave at this point. 

But the chief didn't lay a finger on him, not now when his daughter was at stake. 

----

Mark has been itching to tell Johnny about what had happened. He was willing to set aside their differences because he needed his best friend, now. 

"Johnny-" Mark breathes, not making eye contact with the elder who was on his phone, this room had been dead silent for days. 

Johnny's head perks up, it was nice hearing him call his name again. "Yeah?" 

"I kinda messed up… big time." Mark scratches the back of his head, shameful. 

Johnny sits up, and listens to the younger more attentively. "What do you mean?" 

"Y/n.." he trails off, "Y/n is the chief's daughter." And catches his face on his hands. 

"Fuck…" Johnny didn't know what to say. "How'd you know?" 

"The student-parent weekend thing. God, I swear dude he was going to skin me alive if he could. But shit, I didn't know!" Mark exclaims, hands all over the place. "If I did then I wouldn't have gone through with this. She has never told me about her parents until that day. I don't know what to do." 

He seemed so helpless, he didn't want to break to you like this, it was too messy. But damn if he didn't want to keep being with you. It couldn't end like this, not yet. 

"I- I don't know what to say man… God I'm sorry this sucks ass. You know I always let you do what makes you happy right? But what if," Johnny stops, debating if he should go on with what he planned to say. 

"What if?" Mark anticipates. 

"What if she isn't who you thought she was?" 

"Great. I'm so fucking stupid for thinking you would be with me on this one." Mark slams his hands on his lap and stands, slamming the door on the way out. 

"Mark-" Johnny reaches for the door but misses a beat, it was too late. He let his best friend slip away from him again. 

And as soon as Mark left their room, he was on his way to meet up with you, hoping you would be free. He hadn't had much time with you after the following days of the event because you had always excused yourself with how busy you are with your submissions and requirements, or that's what you would like to tell him. 

Your phone rings in your pocket as you excuse yourself from the people you were with at the moment, when you check to see who it was, you find the quietest place possible. 

"Kalen," You spoke, "What's up?" 

"Are you free? I was hoping I'd finally catch you." 

You sigh, you missed spending time with him. "I am," you say in advance before you bail out of this place you were in. "See you at the cafe in 10?" 

You hear him chuckle over the line, and you just knew he was smiling when he said "Great, I'll see you." 

"See you, Kal." You smile and tuck your phone back in your pocket. 

"Who was that?" Jaehyun asks when he bumps into you in the hallway of the frat house. "Oh you've got that sickening smile right now. It must've been Kalen" He rolls his eyes. 

"Whatever Jae," You brush past him. "I'm heading out." 

"But we're not done!" 

You didn't respond and left, shutting the door behind you. 

The cafe was a short walk from your university, but you just happened to bump into Mark on the way, now you don't have to walk alone. 

He smoothly slips his hand in yours, holding it gently and reading your expression. You look to the side with a wide grin on your face, unable to help the fact that you were blushing like crazy. 

"Nice hoodie," he comments. The garment looked a little too familiar to him, he just couldn't quite put his finger on it. “You never gave back my jacket..”

You mentally facepalm, forgetting the fact that you were wearing Jaehyun's hoodie. You pray that Mark wouldn't see this on him anytime soon, you wouldn't want him to get a bad idea. 

"Oh right that, I’ll get it dry cleaned and I’ll give it back" you utter. "Something bothering you?" You ask, trying to read his sulky expression. 

He shakes his head, "No no, I want you to keep it. And I just missed you." He forms a small smile, making your heart melt. You were so easily captivated by his presence that it scared you. He always left you feeling unhinged—in a good way. 

"I missed you too, tiger." You grip his hand a little tighter.  

When he licks his lips, only by then you realize how much you missed kissing him. Right then and there, you just wanted another taste. This was exactly why you were trying to keep yourself busy and away from him for a bit; you had to convince yourself that you couldn’t be attached to him because you could never take care of the things you keep. 

He opens the door for you like always and the chimes in the cafe ring in a sweet melody, a sound that always reminds you of your moments with him. The both of you always shared comfortable memories in this cafe, from small coffee dates to working on papers until it closed. You couldn’t imagine sharing it with anyone else. 

When you settle down he automatically takes your usual orders right away. You could not take your eyes off him, he was such a dream.

He sets the tray down with your drinks, and a pastry that you shared a love-hate relationship with. Cheesecake.

You chuckle at the thought of recalling all the times that you convinced Mark that cheesecake slices weren’t supposed to be as huge as they are and that there are definitely better one’s in other places, but Mark’s favorite was Starbucks’. Maybe that’s why you have learned to love it somehow, because you get to enjoy it with him. 

"I thought you didn't like this? You almost finished the whole thing… I literally bought this for myself." He says sarcastically, very much amused at how you barely even noticed that you were close to finishing the entire thing. 

"Oh shit.. sorry" You show him a pout and feed the last piece to him. "Here." You smile cutely. 

He rolls his eyes and bites it off your fork, you both bid goodbye to the cheesecake. 

Mark’s phone rings in his pocket and when he checks to see, it was Johnny. He lets out a sigh and puts his phone back in his pocket. 

“Are you going to take that?” You ask. 

“Nah”

But Johnny was persistent, he did see this coming. He knew that Mark would ignore him at first so he decided to send him a message. This was about their job. 

“Mark, I know you hate me right now but we have to go to the office. Yuta’s tests came back.” Johnny sends. 

Mark takes a peek at his message, immediately standing up. 

“Where are you going?” You say, surprised. 

“I’m sorry I gotta go- meet my brother. He needs me for something.” He hesitantly leans forward, wanting to kiss you on the lips but kisses your forehead instead. “Text me when you get home okay?.” And with that, he was off. 

Mark rings Johnny and the elder quickly answers the call, Mark informs him that he would be heading to the office by himself since he was already closer to the location. 

But he suddenly remembers about his conflict with the chief. So he waited for Johnny to arrive outside. 

Lowering his pride he says, “I’m scared.” 

Johnny looks at him with empathy and says, “We can’t change what happened Mark. Just take it all in for now and we’ll figure out what to do about it later.” He pats the younger’s back and gives his shoulders an assuring squeeze before heading inside. 

Mark could not look at his boss, the feeling of wanting to be eaten alive was back again, why did he have to be your father? 

When Mark finally gets the courage to face him, the chief yells, “The fuck are you looking at?” making Mark flinch and shrink into his seat. 

Johnny felt the need to protect his friend and at the same time, to get what they were really here for. “Um, Sir can you save the ass beating for next time? We really need to look into Yuta’s results now.” He scratches the back of his neck. 

The chief grunts angrily, getting the file from his drawer. “Negative.” He says. 

Mark and Johnny give each other a look and take the folder that had the results, trying to analyze how it could possibly be negative. 

“Dammit.” Johnny whispers to himself, they had to move quickly before everything slips away from them. He takes note of Yuta’s contact number in the file to use for later. He closes the folder and places it back on the desk. “We’ll take care of this chief.” 

“You better. And you,” He presses a hard finger on Mark’s chest, “Stop fucking around with my daughter. I’ll cut your dick off.” 

Mark purses his lips before speaking, “She’s-” he gulps, “She’s really great sir. I’m not playing around with her. I’d never do anything to hurt her.” 

“You already are.” 

-----

The following day, Yuta receives a text from an unknown number, asking him to meet in an unusual location on campus. He was very skeptical at first but  believed that it was probably harmless. 

“Yah, Rolan! Sup.” He offers his fist to bump. “I was just waiting for someone here too. Some random number texted me and I was like "you know, fuck it"” he shrugs.

Johnny couldn’t help but chuckle. Was innocence even the word to describe this? "And you believed them?" Johnny shakes his head.

“Yeah! Look here’s the number” he flashes his phone screen to Johnny, “I wonder where they are. Let me give them a call.” he mindlessly puts the phone next to his ear. Yuta hears a muffled cellphone ringtone and looks around for it. “Yo, your phone’s ringing you should get that.” Yuta says to Johnny, still having absolutely no idea.

“It was us who texted you, dummy.” Mark retorts, appearing from the shadows, now both of them are cornering Yuta. 

“Yo,-” Yuta laughs, still not getting the point of this all. “What’s your name again?” 

Mark rolls his eyes, “Kalen.” 

“Right! Kalen wassup? You’re his brother right?” Yuta points to Johnny with his thumb up.

Johnny pops a tongue in his cheeks, and cocks his brow. “Alright, fun’s over.” It was a shame he had to do this too early, but it had to stop. He locks Yuta’s throat with his arm, pushing him onto the solid brick wall. 

Yuta tries to toughen up and tries to push Johnny’s arm off, but due to their size difference, Johnny definitely kept him still. 

“What do you know about him” Johnny asks sternly. 

“A-about who?” Yuta coughs.

“Jaehyun. What does he do?” Mark follows. 

“Besides being the most handsome man I know, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mark shakes his head, “Well,” and gets a gun out of the pocket of his hoodie. “Will this make you talk?”

Yuta looks at him with wide eyes, he was now scared shitless. “Why- how- who are you guys!” He exclaims. 

“The police mother fucker.” Johnny says. 

But despite everything, Yuta’s tactless mouth was definitely not his best asset. “I knew it. you looked too old to be a freshman.” He looks over at Johnny. “And you, I didn’t expect you to be a cop but you did give Narc vibes in that philosophy class.” 

Mark and Johnny give each other a look, they could not be sidetracked. 

“Are you done?” Johnny tells Yuta, and he simply nods. “So are you going to talk?”

“I’m telling you I don’t know! He never trusts me with his business, he says I have a big mouth.” 

Mark snickers, “I can tell.”

Yuta scoffs, and follows, “He’s been out often recently, but he never tells me where he’s going. So I don’t know what I can do for you.” 

“Listen here buddy,” Johnny warns. “If this gets to your parents that you’re involved with someone who supplies and distributes drugs, you’re going to get your entire family deported. Do you want that?” 

Yuta gulps, “No.” then helplessly says, “I don’t know how to earn his trust with these kinds of things. He’s known me since forever but-” 

“No buts.” Mark interrupts. “Use that head of yours or your ass is going back to Japan.” 

-------

Yuta had been on edge ever since that encounter with Mark and Johnny, now this entire thing would be up to him if he cooperated or not. Yuta’s heart had been lost a couple times, but it was definitely looking to be in the right place. So he’s trying his best to help out, even if it meant that he would have to turn in his best friend. 

When he gets the time to be alone with his thoughts he looks back at all the times that Jaehyun had made him feel like he wasn’t enough to be his friend. Not giving him a good position in football, walking out on him whenever he wanted to, keeping secrets from him. Maybe he was too busy trying so hard to be validated by Jaehyun that he never really got to realize that he lost himself in the process. Letting himself be trampled all over by everyone; this was his time to do something not just for himself, but for everyone else.

On the night when Jaehyun could not escape from Yuta’s presence any longer, he thought that it would be harmless to let his friend tag along for once. It’s not like he had other friends to be with, right? Right. Jaehyun could believe that if he wanted to. 

“I’m a bit sore today, you think you can drive me?” Jaehyun asks Yuta as they were walking in the parking lot after practice. 

To be fair, Yuta was sore too. But of course they wouldn’t care. “Alright, where to?” He still manages to say. 

“I’ll tell you along the way.” 

Yuta simply shrugs and Jaehyun tosses him his car keys, placing their gym bags at the trunk of his car. Jaehyun had given him directions while driving and it was somewhere he had never been and seen before. “Are you sure it’s here?” He says, trying to drive into a dark abandoned building with only the car’s headlights being the source of light. 

“Yeah yeah, wait for me here.” Jaehyun opens the door of the car and slips away from it. “Don’t worry, this place is safe.” He tells Yuta and shuts the door close. 

Yuta immediately whips out his phone, thinking that this might be his biggest clue and texts Johnny. 

I don’t know where I am, but I’m gonna send you my pinned location based on what my gps says alright? I think this was where Jaehyun had been going. 

Johnny immediately tells Mark about this and they immediately take their car to go to where Yuta had told them. 

 Rolan: Yuta, it’s not safe for you to stay there. Can you drive away and head back here? It would be better if we keep you alive. 

I guess I could, Jaehyun’s pretty far out now. I saw him go in somewhere, I’m sure you’ll find this entrance when you get here.

With that Yuta drives off and tries to find his way back to the campus, hoping that this would be successful for Mark and Johnny. He had such a strong feeling about this, everything could go right, or just extremely wrong. But he had to expect both to keep his feet on the ground. He did the right thing. He kept telling himself that. 

“Dude this place is sketchy as hell.” Mark says, looking around. “Do you think Yuta told us the truth? I mean he’s Jaehyun’s bestfriend right?”

“It wouldn’t hurt to try Mark, he seemed pretty genuine about it. Besides, all Jaehyun does is use him. I’m sure he’s tired of it.” Johnny says as they searched the place with their flashlights, their guns ready to fire if they ever go under attack. 

Finally, they find the entrance Yuta has been talking about, the chain attached to the door unlocked and loosened. When they get closer they arm themselves and keep their guard, Johnny kicks the door open and Mark could not believe what he had just seen. 

This couldn’t be. He kept repeating to himself, he didn’t want to believe that this was his reality. 

The reality that you were the one who was behind all of this.

“Hands up! We’re the police.” Johnny shouts, echoing throughout the entire warehouse. 

Mark gulps, he could not bring himself to move his feet and go closer. When you see him, you feel like you have been the biggest disappointment in someone’s life. “Kalen,” You plead with your hands up, terrified with the fact that Johnny had called off a warning shot, making you and Jaehyun back up. 

“Y/n.” Mark says, still struggling to get closer to you and lift his arm to aim his gun towards you. “Why- how could you?”

And you couldn’t answer him. The last thing you ever wanted to do was disappoint him, and yet you turned out to be every single disappointment that this world could think of. 

“Great.” Jaehyun says in anger, remorseful with the fact that both of you just got caught by the two people who had been the closest to you these past months. 

“Mark, come on. This is just as hard as it is for me than it is for you. We have to do this. It’s all we’ve been working for.” Johnny faces him, also extremely disheartened by this revelation.

Mark? His real name was Mark? “Who’s Mark?” You ask before he continues to approach you.

“Right. Now you know.” He takes a deep breath. He gets his handcuffs out of his pocket and races towards you before you could even get away. It was bizarre; how you even thought of escaping this. 

“You have the right to remain silent,” His hands shake while putting them against your back, “Anything that you say can and will be held against you in the court of law.” He swallows, and you sob. 

 “I’m so sorry I-” he cuts you off.

“You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.” He concludes the Miranda rights and adds, “It’s one thing to disappoint me, but another to disappoint your father.”

-----end------

[unbreathable]

ride home  / S. Rogers

Summary : As a girl you were always told to never accept a ride from unknown men. You knew what could happen, you knew the dangers and heck, you`ve seen how it ruined some girls. But hey, he`s your teacher, nothing could happen. Right?

Pairing : Dark(soft)!teacher Steve Rogers x female Reader

Before you read, please understand that this is intended to be a dark fic. There will be noncon elements, rape, violence, manipulation and so much more. If you find any of these disturbing, please click away. 18+ only.

Warnings for this one shot : manipulation, noncon elements, rape, use of drugs, lost of virginity. This is some kind of au and Steve might be out of character a little.

Word count : 3.319

Credit : for the gif I used, the credit goes to its rightful creator.

Note : Don’t expect this to be any good. I came up with this over the course of a few hours and I’m still learning how to write one shots, as I find it much easier to write a series. Also I still suck at writing “smut”. I’m trying to perfect it, tho. Promise. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this one shot till my mind would be satisfied with the way the next chapter of “The Magpie” turned out and would let me post it. :)) Also, please excuse any mistakes I made. Have a great day you guys!

                   Also, to all the writers from this platform : thank you !

Girl found wondering around without any memory of the last few days, claims she had been abducted and raped...

Your eyes narrowed as you stared at the case which has been all over the news for the past week. It was quite predictable, really. Young girl, too drunk for her own good woke up by herself in the middle of nowhere. You sighed. In a city as big as New York, cases like this happened almost every other day, but there was always something left behind. Fight marks, blood, hair. Anything that could help the police find the person who did it. This time though, there was nothing.

The poor girl. You couldn`t help but pity her. She must be terrified. All alone against a world that knows nothing better than to judge. You pinched your nose in exasperation.

Cases like this, it`s what made you choose to study law. You wanted to be able to help other women. To offer them a chance at justice. No one deserved to be told that it was their own fault for wondering alone at night or for wearing something more showing. No girl should feel like the law protects only the male population...

“ And what`s your opinion on this matter, miss I`m too busy scrolling on my phone to pay attention to class?”

You cursed in your head, as you put your phone away and lifted your eyes to meet your teacher.

Steve Rogers. America`s hero, savior of the world and an actual pain in your ass, was looking at you expectantly. You held his gaze as you forced your lips to form some kind of smile. Something about him always put you on edge and the way his eyes darkened as he stared at you, didn`t exactly help ease the feeling.

“I`m sorry, I was distracted.” you murmured, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that he caught you unprepared. ”If you would be so kind...”

You looked at him as you raised one eyebrow. It was always like this. No matter what you did he`d always find something to pick at you. At first you took it as a form of banter between a teacher and his students, but with time it became clearly that he had a problem with you. Your grades didn`t reflect the hard work you always put in. Your extra work wouldn`t be considered. Every time you would as much as look at your watch he`d find something to jab at you. He would also have something to say about every paper you handed him. It was a miracle you even made the grade for his class.

You cringed as you remembered the comments he would make about your life outside his class. You seemed to bump into him on a daily. There was also something, in the way he watched your every move, that it made the hair at the back of your neck stay high on alert. You really couldn`t understand what you`ve done that America`s sweetheart despised you that much.

”The women rights...” he smirked down at you.

“Oh, yes. I strongly believe that women should have got their rights the same time men did.” you smiled when you realized that he wanted to add something else. “I mean we know that every society of this world was built around androcentrism, but if we`re real the women were the ones that kept everything from falling apart.” you drew in a short breath. “Oh, and I believe that 1920 was a bit late for our women to get their rights, since women all around the world fought for it since the 18th century.”

You smirked, as for once in your life the bell rang exactly when you needed it. Forcing a smile his way, you stood up gathering your notebooks. You were quite proud of yourself, not because your answer was the desired one, but because you got on professor Rogers nerves. While he didn`t seem to have a problem with women and feminists in general, he sure had a problem with the way you choose to speak on the matter. From the corner of your eye you saw his jaw twitch.

At first you were afraid to even say your opinion lest you would upset him, but now you enjoyed to see that vein on his forehead nearly pop. You held back a giggle. Oh well, at least you won`t have to see him for the next few weeks.

“Professor!” you rolled your eyes when you herd your bestfriend use her sweet voice. “I was wondering if you`d like to come to our party tonight.”

You stood straight, narrowing your eyes at the one that has been your friend since the first day you came to the city. What the hell was happening. You knew she had a crush on him, everyone did, but she wasn`t the one to just go and ask someone out, especially not him. You watched her in confusion as professor Rogers made his way to the front of the class.

“You know, with everything happening right now, the uni council would let us hold the party only if there was someone that could take care of us.”

“Oh!” you supposed that made sense, but even so why did it have to be him.

“Of course professor Barnes already said that he`ll be there, but we`d be thankful if you came too. Please!” your friend bated her eyelashes at him as you rolled your eyes.

Professor Rogers had a pleased smile as he moved his eyes from her to you. You held his gaze, even going as far as raising one eyebrow at him. He blinked, before turning his head towards the rest of the class.

“Since you asked so nicely.” he said after a short moment dismissively. ”`I`ll be there.”

There was something sinister in his eyes. Something that you failed to see as you made your way out of the lecture class.

“I can`t believe you invited him!” you playfully jabbed your friend in the shoulder as she walked next to you.

“Oh, come on! It’s just tonight, and I bet he won’t be able to stay up that late since he’s like... the same age as history?” she bit back a laugh, as she took your hand. “It will be fun, you`ll see.”

You hoped she was right since you were never a big fan of parties of any kind.

                                       _ _ _

This wasn`t fun. Not at all.

You knew you should have stayed home, yet you still wanted to enjoy the last night with your class mates before break. But this wasn`t it. The music was too loud and you couldn`t even hear what some people were saying. Also you`ve never really been a techno fan. The food was crap and you were sure everyone came just because there were free drinks.

It was well past midnight and you have been there since the beginning, but you were already dreading it. You smiled as your only joy came from watching drunk freshmen being rejected by some of your friends. The girls were ruthless and that made you proud.

“Hey girl!” your bestfriend came by your side, holding two glasses in her hands as her body danced along the rhythm of the music. “Look at was professor Rogers sent us.”

Her words were slurred and you could see that she drank already too much. That`s why at first you thought you didn`t hear her right. While it wasn`t unusual for men to send women drinks, getting a drink from your teacher was something you never thought could happen. It was wrong in a way.

“What?” your eyes widened as soon as the word left your mouth.

You eyed the glass she handed you. It seemed to be one of your favorites, and after the sour taste the beer left in your mouth, that would have been like a desert. Still something made you suspicious.

“Come on, take it!”  your friend pressed as she smiled broadly. “He must have realized that he’s been an ass all year and wants to make amends.”

She was giggling as her glossy eyes drifted around the room. She didn`t seem to be able to focus on anything, but somehow her shaky hands found yours and brought the glass you were holding closer to your mouth. You weren`t exactly sure what came over you, but you opened your mouth and let the liquid go down your throat. Involuntarily, your eyes wondered around till you saw the back of your least favorite teacher. He didn`t even seem to care about anything around him as he was engaged into a discussion with professor Barnes. That alone made you feel safe, even though the drink left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You were too quick to judge, you resonated. This was probably his way of saying: “Sorry I tormented you that much.” You suddenly giggled. It was shortly followed by your friend`s laughter. She threw the glass to the side and took your hand leading you to the dancefloor.

You weren`t that much of a dancer. You knew just some basics moves and that was it, but now you didn`t seem to care. You let your body move, and only chuckled when your legs started to feel like jelly. It was a strange feeling. You suddenly felt like were floating.

You furrowed your brows as you started to feel that your body didn`t exactly respond to your impulses. Everything around you happened in slow motion.

You cursed. Just how much did you drink? Moving one hand to your head, you tried to get your senses back, but you found it too hard to do. Your head buzzed. For a second you looked around trying to spot your friend among the sweaty bodies on the dancefloor, but it was like you couldn`t recognize anybody.

Fuck this. You had enough of this party already, and the way you felt made you decide that it was time to go home. You moved between the sea of bodies as fast as you could. Your coat and purse were the only thing you spent more than five minutes looking for, but as you found them you practically run out of there.

The bus stop wasn`t that far, but just the thought that you`ll have to go home by bus, made you want to throw up. You didn`t feel well and there was  dizziness that started to overcome you. As you watched the empty street, you cursed again. Of course you`ll have to wait till the next bus came. Damn it! You should really get your license.

The sound of a engine from behind you, made you turn your head. Your eyes narrowed as you watched the Range Rover slow down and actually stop right next to you. You squinted your eyes, trying to see through the tinted glass, but as a wave of nausea hit you, you moved your head to the side. You didn`t exactly pay attention when one of the windows went down. You didn`t really care. You felt sick, and all you wanted, was to get home.

“ I saw you left the party early.” the deep voice said. “Are you all right kitten?”

You hissed when you heard the voice of the last person you wanted to see right now. What was he even doing here? Your heart skipped a beat as another wave hit. You took a deep breath and tried to steady yourself. Just ignore him and he`ll go away. You didn`t exactly knew why you choose to act like that but there was something in your head that told you it was for the best.

“Come on girl, I have to make sure everyone is safe and sound.” you heard his voice. “If you don`t feel fine, I can take you home.”

The idea of getting home sooner and in a nice car was looking really good right now. But still, you didn`t feel like it was the best for you. You choose to keep quiet for reasons not even you knew. You glossy eyes scanned the schedule of the bus that was right in front of you. Thirty minutes and you`ll go home.

You heard professor Rogers sigh.

“And here I thought you never shut your mouth.” there was a deep chuckle, fallowed by the sound of the engine coming to life. “Look kitten I can either get you home or I`ll go my merry way and let you here all alone... well not quite. But I`m not sure you`d want that kind of company.”

Confusion filled your mind. The sudden move you made to look at him, made you dizzy. You tried to focus your eyes, in time to see him pointing to somewhere behind you. You slowly turned.

A group of guys were eyeing you like a wolf would his prey. Your mouth fell open as they did obscene gestures at you. Your whole body freeze as fear took over you. You knew what could happen. Suddenly you were more sober that ever and as you heard the car start moving, you nearly threw yourself in front of it. On shaky legs you moved towards the door.

“Wait” you find it hard to speak. “Professor, I`m sorry I... please!”

You looked at him with pleading eyes, and didn`t even register the way he smirked as you got into the car. Everything was a haze. You only felt like you could breath when the car started to gain speed. You didn`t even remembered to give him your address or anything, but as the car rolled down various streets you were only thankful you were far away from them.

“It such a crazy world out there” professor Rogers voice made you move your head towards him, but as the fear was gone, you started to feel the dizziness again.

With unfocused eyes you watched him. America`s hero was giving you a ride home for free and you were acting like he was your biggest enemy. What was wrong with you?

“I have to say I`m impressed.” he suddenly said as the car started to slow down. “That was one of the strongest drugs that you drank, and you still have some of your conscious left. The other ones were down after a few minutes.”

You looked at him and simply blinked. You wondered if your mind was playing games with you. Surely, he hadn`t said what you think you heard. You must have imagined everything.

“E... excuse me?” you asked dully.

You drew in a shaky breath as your trembling hand went to the door. He chuckled darkly at your attempts to open it. You wanted to scream but as your movement became slower and slower you found that fear wasn`t enough to fuel your limp body.

The car came to a sudden stop. You closed your eyes as you felt hands pulling you back.

“Now, now honey.” you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. “Don`t waste your energy, you`ll need it.”

You turned your head and watched him through your eyelashes. Something in your head was screaming at you to fight, to run, to get away. You wanted to punch, scratch, hurt him in any way. But your body didn`t listen.

It happened too fast. In a matter of second your dress was ripped to shreds. And your found yourself pressed to the door. He was over you in an instant. Turning your head to the side so that he could stare into your eyes. He had a hungry look on his face. You`ve seen it many times but it never terrified you as much as now.

“Just as pretty as I imagined.” he said in a husky voice.

You squeezed your legs as you felt his hand moving around along your body. He tugged at your bra till the clasps snapped. Your nipples stood erect, you didn`t know if it was from the cold of the car or the heat that was inside you. One of his hands came forward at pinched at your nipples. You made to move, but as sensing your intention he tugged your head back by your hair.

“Don`t you even dare!” he growled as his thumb played with one of your nipples. “I waited a long time for this”.

He leaned forward kissing down your stretched neck. His mouth was hot against your skin. You gasped when you felt his tongue leaving wet traces along your collarbone. He tugged at your hair one more time before his hand went down.

“Always dressing like this world is your own runaway, always thinking that you know it all.” he let out a moan as he squeezed your ass. “Do you know what a face as pretty as yours and an attitude like that do to a man?”

You whimpered. You never meant to catch his attention in that way, you just wanted to feel good about yourself. You wanted to tell him that. To tell him that you were sorry, but your brain didn`t work anymore. There was no reaction even as he spanked you. You felt like you could pass out every second.

“Don`t even think about it!”

You closed your eyes when your panties were soon the same as your other clothes. Slick was going down your legs. Despite everything, you were aroused.

“So fucking wet already. Good girl!” he praised.

You felt his hand descend down to your very core, proding around. You bit your lips as tears filled your eyes.

“How many have been here before?” he gave a low chuckle the same time his fingers pinched your button.

“One?” he mocked as one of his long fingers entered you.

You held back a gasp. Non, no, no. This wasn`t happening. Nobody touched you like that before. Nobody even came close to it. That`s not how you wanted it not how you dreamt it would happen. You wanted dinner, roses, a man you loved... not him.

“Two?” he continued as another finger stretched you.

You felt your walls clench around his fingers, as he moved them in and out ou you, everything while his thumb circled your most sensitive part.

“Fuck... you`re tight!” his breath was ragged, it was like he couldn`t get enough.

There was a sudden pause. In a quick move you found yourself pressed to the door of the car, as he angled your body to have better access to your burning core. He drew in a breath.

“A virgin.” he moaned.

You closed your eyes as you herd him playing at his clothes. The sudden hardness you felt proding around your core, made you shiver. You didn`t dare to look back and see it. You were scared. It seemed too big. You were afraid it would split you in a half.

You screamed when he entered you. The pain blurred your vision. Your whole body ached and tears fell down your cheeks. No, no, no. You bit back a moan of pain when he started to move, not caring about you at all. His moves were rough, punishing.

“Shhh doll, I`ll take care of you.” he rasped. “You must have waited so long for this... saving yourself for me.”

Your body moved in rhythm with his. His cock dragged along your walls as every move sent a wave of pain through you. Soon though, you found the pain disappeared. A strange feeling took over you. It was almost pleasurable. You guessed you would have enjoyed it under any other circumstances. But now? Now you were just tired.

As you passed out, you failed to notice the feeling of something warm flowing through you.

                                          _ _ _

Steve smiled down at your sleeping form. So pretty, even after being used like that. You had a glow. Too bad you might not remember anything that happened. He chuckled. It`s a  good thing he planned to keep you. He`ll make sure you`ll never forget him.

You were his girl after all. The only reason he took that shitty job as a teacher.

[boldlyvoid]

Intro to Criminal Minds: Why They Did It

Criminal Minds x MINDHUNTER AU

Spencer Reid x Margaret Carr (OC)

Part 1: Ed Kemper.

Summary: Spencer is teaching a 7-week seminar on the most interesting criminal cases, explaining their actions to understand why they took place. Only, not everyone in the audience is a student.

warnings: graphic details of a real rape and murder case, like every trigger in the book, applies to this fic so read with caution (if you watch either show you're used to it, however), it's all real and did actually happen and I don't support any of it. strangers to lovers, mutual pining, flirting, fluff, eventual smut, idiots in love, OC is Wendy Carr's daughter, her bio father is Jason Gideon

word count: 3.9K

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't having fun teaching.

He started with guest speaking, moving to special seminars a few times a year. But he wanted something more, settling for a 7-week criminal justice elective of his choosing.

Intro to Criminal Minds: why they did it. Giving Spencer an excuse to share the most intimate facts about serial offenders in a setting where no one could tell him to shut up.

14 students total signed up for the two-hour Seminar, taking place every Thursday at 11 am from September until Halloween. Over the 7 weeks, he would explain the fascinating insights of the most successful killers in the United States. Only asking that his students write about a prolific crime they find interesting by the end of term, for their full grade.

All he wanted was to read about obscure killers from around the world, from the perspective of aspiring profilers.

The first Thursday, he came prepared with his coffee a half hour before the class. He wanted to write the main points on the whiteboard in advance, nice and neatly.

To his surprise, a student was already there waiting for him. "Oh, hello,” he smiled softly.

She was sitting with a book in her hands, she pushed her glasses up her nose to look at him as he walked in. She was older than his typical student, around 35. Probably finishing up a degree or adding something to what she already had.

"Hi," she smiled at him. “Sorry, I’m early, I was visiting my mom at Quantico earlier.” She explained. "I'm not a teacher's pet or anything. Promise, I’m not even a student.”

It made him laugh slightly, correcting him like she read his mind. "It's okay, I'm Doctor Reid," he introduced himself softly.

“Margaret Carr, Peggy is also fine.”

"Pleasure to meet you," he said quickly before focusing his attention on the whiteboard.

He could feel her eyes on him the whole time he wrote, not wanting to turn around and catch her. "That's so interesting," he heard her mumble under her breath.

"Hmm?" He turned around.

"It's just that, everyday occurrences that never phase the regular person somehow cause psychopaths to kill," she read the board back to him.

"I was reading a study a while back about how psycho killers medulla oblongata is approximately 19% smaller than the average human’s. Based on the way they're nurtured as children affects if they grow up to kill. The ones that don't often end up in law enforcement and other positions of power where their psychopathic tendencies can come to play."

He was taken aback for a moment. He had never experienced a student who was like him before. Someone who just pulled facts into conversations like it was nothing.

"I read that as well," he smiled. "It is fascinating. The smallest amount of bullying and abuse from a mother or disappearance of a father figure can set them off."

"Or, on the other hand, there are people like Ted Bundy," she added. "He was well-loved and taken care of, but it went to his head. His god complex and affinity for lying led him to be incredibly charismatic and enabled his killing."

"You're very educated on this already; are you just interested in hearing me speak today?" He asked, not wanting her to leave, finding it interesting that she was there.

"Oh," she blushed. "I was going to talk to you more about it after the seminar actually."

“Okay, I’ll be waiting for you,” he felt a little giddy at the prospect.

"Thanks," she laughed. "Seriously though, I'm a big fan of your teaching style, I saw a few of your classes when my dad was teaching at the academy in 2005. It's a lot easier to remember facts if the lecturer genuinely loves what they're talking about."

"You're going to like this Seminar then. It’s basically just a way for me to get paid while unloading all the random facts I have,” he warned her with a smile.

"I know." She smiled back at him.

The rest of his students filed in slowly. By 11 am, 14 faces were staring back at him.

"Hello," he waved awkwardly. "I'm dr. Spencer Reid. For the last 12 years, I've worked with the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit. Catching serial offenders across the country."

He took a deep breath, letting the nerves find their way out of him. "I've been asked time and time again who my favourite serial killer is, which is a peculiar way to phrase the question. It feels morally wrong to have a favourite in the way people do with baseball players.

"I am, however, fascinated with several serial offenders' reasoning and explanation for why they did what they did. Every single killer is different, but it all comes back to 1 thing. Do you know what that is?"

They all shook their heads. “What is your relationship with your parents like?" He asked. 

Everyone in the room reacted; some students sighed, some rolled their eyes as they recalled their parents and childhoods to memory.

"When a person decides to kill, it's often never in the moment. It's in childhood. The majority of serial offender's stories start the same; their mother didn't love them, their father left. Someone at home abused them or put them down repeatedly."

"Thus, causing a hatred so primal to bubble. No matter how hard they try and fight it, the bubble always bursts. They go from fantasizing to killing in retaliation for their abuse, taking the anger out in stages."

He referred to the board. "Every killer has a stressor and a trigger—something that causes the urge to bubble and the event that causes the bubble to rupture.”

"Edmund Kemper is a fascinating example of this. He grew up with a family for the first few years of his life before his father fully abandoned them. His mother handled the situation by turning her anger onto her son; it was his fault his father left, he looked just like him, Ed was just another useless man who would never amount to anything," he emphasized the words. Hoping the class sees the effects words have on children.

"He started by cutting up dolls, stealing his sister's barbies and cutting their heads off. In his mind, he was getting out his anger and hatred for how his mother saw him. She hated men, causing him to mature with a warped idea of what women are truly like."

"His attraction to killing worsened his mother's hatred; she could tell something was wrong with him, that he didn't react to everyday situations the way he should. By the time he was ten, she was locking him in the basement for days on end, telling him he was a monster and her biggest regret."

"The change in her rage amplified his own. He hated hearing her speak. He hated the way she walked around, thinking she was better than him. That just because she was a mother and a working woman, she deserved respect and submissive’s. All he could see was a woman with a big head who needed to be humbled. This is the moment when the psychotic side of his brain blended his hatred of his mother with how good it felt to kill."

"Is that why he, you know?" Peggy cut in, running her finger along her neck as she pretended to cut her head off.

He pressed his lips together in an awkward smile, nodding. "His signature, as it's called, was decapitation. But more specifically necrophiling the severed head of his victims."

The whole class let out a disgusted noise, Peggy and Spencer making eye contact while they shrugged, it wasn't news to them.

"At age ten, he moved from barbies to cats and dogs, never leaving them around for his mother to see. While he hated her, he was also absolutely terrified of her. Breading a special type of killer. When you think of school shooters or preferential predators, what do they have in common?" He asked.

He pointed at a student in the back. "They have a specific type of victim they’re after?"

"Exactly. Most serial offenders want to go after the cause of their pain or attraction. However, Ed wasn't able to kill the source of his rage for a long time. His mother mentally abused him so intensely that he believed she was in control of him and that her opinion of him mattered. He saw her as his God, he loved her, but he also knew that he disappointed her.

"He ran away soon after to find his father. Travelling to California, only to be told he was unwanted there as well. It wasn't just his mother that his father was escaping; it was the fundamental aspect of family that he didn't want. Ed defiantly didn't want to go back to his mother after that, so he moved in with his paternal grandparents."

He kept catching the looks on Peggy's face. She knew the story already, waiting patiently to hear the words he chose to make the horrific acts seem a little more conversational.

"His grandmother was exactly like his mother. If I had to guess, his father most likely had a distaste for his own mother and thus divorced Ed's mom. Only he never grew up to be a killer, just an absent father—his absence doing to Ed what never happened to him."

"Ed killed his grandparents when he was 15. Telling the police and his therapists that they had beaten him constantly, they refused to feed him and called him names. He said he snapped from the trauma; it was self-defence."

Peggy laughed to herself, making him smile softly. "Sending him to a mental hospital instead of a juvenile facility was the worst thing they could've done for him," Spencer added.

"Why?" A student asked.

"Ed is a psychopath." He reminded them. "He doesn't feel empathy the way we do. You can admit that you feel bad for him, yes? If you understand why he killed people, it doesn't make you sick, like him, it makes you human. You see a hurt person hurting others; Ed Kemper sees himself as a new sort of God, choosing who dies, how and when."

"He was brilliant, having the exact IQ as I do," just a humblebrag, "the staff trusted him. He looked like an innocent boy, smart enough to take matters into his own hands for the betterment of his life. They gave him computer privileges, they let him work the front desk and file patient information. Giving him all the resources to learn about who he was inside and how to get away with it perfectly."

"Damn," another kid added. "When did he get out?"

"At 21.” He answered the student quickly. “Ed was interviewed by my mentor Jason Gideon, in the 70s. Where he explained that being locked up during his sexual prime, as well as the access to information, is what truly set him off more than his mother.

"He moved back in with her and his sister when he came out of the institution, immediately returning to the constant ridicule. He went from being told all the time that he was a smart and charming young man, capable of rehabilitation to a useless, no-good son, who would have been better off collecting in a condom or running down her leg."

The whole class laughed, shocked at his repetition of Ed's mother's words.

"He got his licence when he was released. And remember, this was prime time for hitchhiking in California; everyone and their mother walked the roads with a thumb in the air. It was the birth of free love and recreational marijuana usage. It was also the best hunting ground for a learning serial killer."

"He was able to pick women up, but like I said, missing his sexual prime while in an institution made him almost impotent. He didn't know how to speak to women; he had to create a fantasy in his mind every time, one that involved killing, before he could look at a woman."

"How did he get them in his car then?" A voice asked from the back.

"He was 6'9, 300lbs; he looked like a big teddy bear. And his mother was the local college administrative assistant, so the whole town knew him anyway. If Ed offered to give them a ride, it wouldn't be that bad, right?" Peggy turned around to face the class as she explained for Spencer, who just shook his head.

"He only wanted to rape the victims, originally," Spencer added. "But he couldn't. There was no release of the tension. The bubble that had been growing inside him was at its breaking point; he needed to just do it. Get it over with and move on."

"He killed 6 women in succession after that. Gaining the name "The Co-Ed Killer," well before anyone even suspected Ed Kemper," Spencer took a sip of coffee, feeling his throat start to dry as they reached the insane part.

"He was overly friendly with the cops; he wanted to get his record expunged and join the force.” Spencer finally continued. “Being told, "don't worry about your record, worry about your weight.""

"Most killers enjoy wearing a uniform for the power and talking to the police about their cases, in the hopes of gauging how smart they really are—taking pride in the fact that they are getting away with it for so long."

"He watched all the cop shows, and he read all the books. He knew that in order to get away with it, he had to do it where no one could trace it back to him. He knew he had to keep his cool and avoid looking obsessed with the case, but just curious enough to gain insight into how they thought he was doing it. It went on for years, and they had absolutely zero leads, finding headless bodies every few months before they finally received a call." He left them hanging, walking over to his sheet of paper and pretending to read it while they anticipated the catch.

"Ed always knew that he wanted to kill his mother. He just never knew when,” Spencer teased the story along. Noticing as the students fidgeted in their seats as they wondered what happened next.

“In his interview with Gideon, Ed said that he knew she would die 7 days before he killed her. He walked into her room that night to find her reading, with the audacity to ask if he wanted to come in and chat all night. Teasing him for the way he rambled to her. It was the last time she ever did that."

"It's hard to imagine his signature with the fact his second last victim was his mother," Peggy added, cringing at the thought.

"Wait," another student interjected. "Who was his last kill then if he only really wanted to kill her?"

"Remember how I said he lacked empathy?" Spencer asked. "He loved his mother in the same way a prisoner can end up loving their captor."

Peggy nods at the comparison, looking like she's never thought of it that way before, then smiling at him.

"You grow a bond through the trauma and when the only thing you've ever known is violence and hate, you don't know what to do when that's gone, it's hard to cope."

"He said he killed his mother so that she never had to know what he did. She'd never have to sit at his court hearings or be able to tell the media that she always knew he was a killer."

"His last kill was his mother's best friend," He finally answered the question.

"He didn't want his mother to be even more disappointed in him, but he also didn't want his mother's best friend to find her like that and be upset. So the obvious answer to him was to kill her too."

"What the fuck?" He heard a couple of kids say under their breath.

"Yeah," he agreed with an almost chuckle. "This is what I mean by their answers are fascinating. It makes so much sense to them; clearly, if I kill my mother, her friend will be upset, so the best answer would be to put her out of her misery as well. He sees them as objects, like a matching set. One would lose value without the other."

Everyone was silent then. The students took in all the information they had just received, staring up at him with a look of disgust mixed with wonder.

"Any questions?"

Peggy raised her hand for a change; he pointed towards her in approval. "You missed the part where he specifically took the heads from the three women before his mother and brought them back home with him. He buried them in the yard outside her bedroom window, making sure they were always looking up to her."

Spencer was amazed that she knew the details. "Yes, I guess I did."

"I always found that part particularly interesting in this case," Peggy added. "Her opinion mattered so much to him. He knew how much she loved her co-ed's and how they looked up to her so much. They'd be exactly like her. He felt trapped in a town of women who were exactly like his nightmare, and his response was to make them physically look up to her for the rest of her life."

"Exactly." Spencer smiled. "understanding how he sees the situation and how the events played out in his mind is the key in figuring out who he is."

"If you were on the case in '72 when the first victims were discovered, how would you have handled it, Dr. Reid?" A male student in the back asked in the silence between answers, taking his shot before Peggy and Spencer went any further in their discussion.

“That's a hard thing to answer, connecting evidence back then was a lot harder than it is today, if it wasn’t for men like Ed there wouldn’t really be this many answers,” Spencer said honestly.

Another student put her hand up, “what’s the worst thing he did in your opinion?”

That racked his brain, there was a handful of horrific things he did that were particularly horrific, “probably his mother's entire murder.”

“What did he do?”

Before Spencer could answer he saw Peggy open her mouth and start explaining. “He not only cut off her head and fucked her neck, but he also took her vocal cords out and shoved them down the garbage disposal. And before he called the cops, he cleaned everything up and made her look presentable because he said his mother wouldn’t want guests to see the mess.”

The class all cringed, sinking into their seats with disgust. But that didn’t stop Peggy from explaining it all further.

“He used to go to a bar all the cops went to and he would talk about his case. They would always one-up themselves and say they were close which gave him this false idea that they were on his tail and they’d find his mother soon. But when they didn’t, he called it in from a payphone and said he’d come over and explain it all. And boy did he ever, the cops said he wouldn’t shut up. And then when they put him in the cop car finally, a woman walked past him and he threw up.”

Spencer watched her with awe, the way she could call information to memory like that was beautiful. He listened to her like he’s never heard a fact before, she was so intriguing.

“Thank you for the detail,” he teased her lightly. “Sometimes I get so caught up that the really gross parts get swept aside.”

The class smiled at him, he had gained their trust and attention within only 1 hour of class.

“I know you said you don’t have a favourite,” another student asked from the back. “I agree it’s weird, but who is the one you gravitate towards the most?”

“I’ve met hundreds of serial killers, I’ve read about thousands,” he explained. “I think Ed Kemper is the one I gravitate the most around because he was so willing and open to explaining why he is the way he is. Going as far as to say that the only way they could keep women safe is to give him a lobotomy. He didn’t believe there was any correcting to be done, only removal of the evil within him.”

He heard slight mumbles as everyone took in what he said. “Does anyone here have a killer or a case that interested them in learning more, or just introduced you to the chase of justice?”

Peggy put her hand up, “I personally think BTK is the scariest, most tactical, and just downright evil man to ever exist. He scares me to no end but he’s so interesting to learn about.”

“Ahh,” Spencer agreed. “Too bad you won't be here for week 3. But with that I think I’ll end the class, next week we’ll be discussing the difference between Ted Bundy and Richard Speck.” He nodded lightly, watching the majority of them close their books and had on out.

“I really enjoyed the class,” she said softly. Holding her purse in one hand, a collection of files in the other.

Spencer turned to look at her then, smiling right back. “It was a pleasure to teach alongside you.”

“What do you mean?” She teased, “it’s not like my mom and dad were the ones who did all the interviews."

“Carr,” he repeats her last name. The gears turning in his mind as he brings all the information forth.

“Your mother is Wendy Carr, she was recruited after the BTK case with Bill Tench, she’s who was behind that study you mentioned.”

“I know,” she smiled.

“Who’s your father?”

“Guess,” she looked at him with an unimpressed look on her face, pushing her glasses up slightly.

“You’re kidding? Gideon never said he had a daughter let alone a,” he stops himself before he can embarrass himself any further.

She smiled at the implication of his words, “but he’s told me all about you Dr. Reid, that’s why I'm here.”

“You need help with a case and I’m the only agent in Virginia currently,” he pressed his lips together awkwardly. Knowing it was too good to be true that she would have any interest in him in the slightest.

“No actually, I have a case I’ve been working on privately and I need some help. I asked my dad but he said you’d be able to help me the best. I agree,” she corrected him softly. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I was a big fan of yours. When I would sit in and watch his lectures, before he knew I was his kid, you would always step in at the best parts, adding the smallest details to the story that the average person would forget. It’s magnificent.”

He laughed slightly, tugging at his collar as she complimented him. “Thank you, you’re quite magnificent as well,” he replied with a blush and a smile

She didn’t look like Gideon, probably because she smiled so much. Like sunshine on legs, she beamed, all but blinding him with her smile as she stared at him, “do you want to get lunch and go over this case with me?”

“I’d love to.”

taglist: (message me if you want to be added or removed)

@shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

[zoopzopp]

A post for some BAMF Izuku fics <3 (more of these will be added and the list will be updated as i read them)

Fics i've read:

The Secret Ingredient is Crime- Izuku only had a whole month to further prove himself worthy of Yuuei's golden acceptance, and he was going to do whatever it took to make it in. Yuuei would never truly know what hit them until it was too late. (The secret crime AU in it entirety is fucking amazing and what wouldn't i give to read more stuff with it)

Deku the Villain Hunter: Support Hero - We all know the story: After being told he couldn't be a Hero by All Might, Midoriya Izuku still wandered over to a supervillain attack where he could save Bakugou Katsuki. But what if he had made the other turn? The answer is a butterfly effect that would lead him on a path to paving his own future. A path of revenge, finding his own moral compass, and doing the impossible. (OKAY MANY THOUGHTS. Very cool story and aspects. I binged it overnight and lost a bit of sleep the next night as well.)

The Story of How Midoriya Izuku Asserted His Dominance (And Traumatized Japan) - The Sports Festival was supposed to be a break from stress. Shouta should have known there is no such thing as a break with his class.

making it right (for real this time) - - Izuku is a support course student at UA, and Katsuki's neighbor, best friend, and former bullying victim. After Izuku's performance at the sports festival, Katsuki realizes something. He has to make things right. -

Hero Fall (UA Civil War Exercise) - It's now the end of the first year of UA for our students. Nedzu had decided to bring back the annual Heroes vs Villain fight. The fight shall last 5 days and the villain leader is Izuku Midoriya, with the commanding officer of the hero team being Katsuki Bakugo. But, what happens when Izuku is left alone?

Hero Class Civil Warfare - Heroes lead by Bakugo. Villains lead by Midoriya. Seven days prep time. Three days for Izuku Midoriya to show why they should be glad he's not a real villain.

"I Didn't Know You Had It In You." - Midoriya goes feral rage mode in his fight against Overhaul. The beat down still happens, but with Eri no longer at his back, he gets more violent. One For All reacts in an interesting way and Midoriya commits a terrible and unheroic act - the cold blooded murder and maiming of Chisaki Kai. Shigaraki is there to watch it all unfold.

Plan C meets Plan A - Even if All Might is right and Izuku can't be a hero, Izuku refuses to be useless. So Izuku uses his analysis skills to develop Plan C: Consulting in order to help the heroes. Eraserhead is impressed by this mysterious new consultant but alarm bells in Deku's behaviour quickly have Aizawa recruiting help for Plan A: Adoption.

Q. A. B. - One month after @hawks_unofficial's initial viral post, the blog titled "Quirk Analysis Blog for the Future", otherwise known as "Q. A. B.", has gone from an average of 10 views per post to an average of 20,000 views per post. Midoriya Izuku does not know how to view the impressions analysis for his suddenly popular blog, and only notices that sometimes, people actually comment on his posts now. He does not google himself or his moniker and thus does not see the rise in online articles and speculation. He is unaware that the "kyuu-ei-bee" he begins to hear about in passing refers to his own blog. He does not have a Twitter account. At the time, Midoriya Izuku is 15 years old.

How to murder your father - It's dangerous to be a bad father when you have a life insurance. Just saying.

Negation - Passive Quirks are a bitch. Izuku is reasonably done with the situation.

Thanks For Your Support - Izuku has the talent and the intellect to be the first Quirkless pro hero, and everyone at UA knows it. Unfortunately, his desire to become a hero has long since been buried thanks to the words of his childhood friend and childhood hero.

Policed To Meet You - Izuku takes All Might's advice and becomes a cop.

Vigilante Work And Other After School Activities - Izuku is a vigilante, Aizawa likes cats and therefore kids who help cats, and sometimes breaks must be forced upon overachieving teenagers.

When the Commission Lost Total Control - The hero polls have a small part where one can suggest their own hero. This is done just because of the amount of heroes is to great to name them all. This creates a little problem for the commission because a vigilante is assumed to be a brand new hero by the public- and ranks pretty high. Because of that, this vigilante now is too popular to hide and they can't come out with their mistake either! Think of the chaos that would bring.

Izuku being Badass but like in not that grand of a way but still tearing-people-down-in-some-way kind of way

He Was Quirkless - Midoriya get's sick of discrimination against the quirkless and decides to do something about it. It leads to some interesting situations. A trilogy.

bloody, but unbowed- It's Advocacy Week for Yuuei's hero students and it gives Midoriya Izuku a lot to think about about what kind of hero he wants Deku to be.

Called Out - When Izuku is hit by a quirk that will cause him to call out the first person to be rude to him on the way to school with every mistake they've made in the affected persons presence or have otherwise effected said affected person, Aizawa is in for a rough ride. In other words, with some help from a quirk, Izuku rakes Aizawa over the hot coals until he gives out. (a great fic but i've got mixed feelings on this one because on one hand, izuku is badass but on the other its Aizawa bashing and really like him skhdskdb so yea! Read it as per your tastes!!)

The time when everyone learned that izuku respects Bakugo more than all might. - I didn't like how Bakugo was tied up during the sports festival and so izuku didn't. Badass izuku roasted all might and midnight.

Villainous Sunshine - After an innocent question, Class 1-A learns just how terrifying Izuku's analysis is. Nedzu's along for the ride.

Never understand ( and you can't ) - Midoriya is sick and tried of his classmates bias and prejudice against the quirkless community and finally breaks

Mastermind: Strategist For Hire - Izuku Midoriya never got the chance to save Bakugo from the sludge villain and impress All Might. With his dream crushed, Izuku becomes bitter and angry. It also doesn't help that he faces discrimination at every turn. All he ever wanted was to be appreciated, so when the villains are the ones to recognize his talents rather than the heroes, well, Izuku just can't resist. He might as well help those who actually want him around. Mistakes were made, and now society must face a villain of their own making: Mastermind.

Malignance - Deku is far scarier than anyone gives him credit for.

Fics in my to read list which has/probably has BAMF izuku

Young Midoriya - Izuku Midoriya couldn't help himself when he saw someone in trouble. Even at 12 years old, his instincts drive him to help those in need. So when he sees Kacchan and his goons about to ambush another student, he has to step in, right? It's not like this hasn't happened before. What is different this time though, is that he's never had an audience that consisted of the Number One Hero.

Heroics and Other Things That Don't Require Superpowers - Izuku doesn't have a quirk. That's the long and short of it. After being told his whole life he can't be a hero, General Education at UA is the best he can hope for, right? Wrong. Dead Wrong. So super wrong that his best friend from Gen Ed, all of Class 1A and a whole mess of Pro Heroes are going to prove to him how wrong he is. Izuku has the makings of a hero, and his lack of a quirk only throws those qualities into starker relief. After all, who wants to be as strong as All Might when you can be the cleverest hero in the business?

Cases of More Than - Izuku is known as Deku online. He's an analyst of quirks, sometimes even working with the local detective, Tsukauchi, on a case. He meets new friends, builds a few relationships, and slowly crushes on his best friend. But then he's thrown into the General Studies Course at U.A. It doesn't help that All for One is showing an interest in him at all.

No Regret - In this world there is no hard set villain or hero. No victim and aggressor. Everyone is at fault for something and Izuku, with his own villain group, will make everyone pay. Even the bystanders who did nothing. This is what society gets for abandoning it's people. Deku will manipulate everyone and be the greatest villain, all so the world can be a better a place. With the stakes so high there is no time for regret.

We Are a Different Kind - Mirio doesn’t think he can be a hero anymore now that he’s quirkless, Izuku calls bullshit.

Live a Hero - "You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain." Or, you're raised a villain, rebel when you're nine, and fight against the odds to become a hero anyway. That's how it is in Izuku's case.

Prodigal - After being convinced to give One for All to Mirio, Midoriya Izuku must rebuild his shattered dreams with bloody hands.

Two Sides of the Same Coin: Vigilante - Izuku is orphaned at the age of four and is sent into the Japanese Foster Care System. After multiple failed attempts at finding a forever home and some unfortunate circumstance, he ends up on the streets. Eventually, the vigilante, Deku appears. Eraserhead must gain his trust to bring Deku back to the right side of the law. If he he does, however, the untrustful but pure-hearted boy may just be a bit more than Aizawa Shota can handle.

From Muddy Waters - - but the sleeve of his tracksuit was bulging, tearing and ripping and a mass of twisted flesh, nearly as big as the boy himself and nauseatingly familiar (the arm of the man that had torn a hole in his side with a grin and left him a frail shadow of himself) swung forward and slammed into the flat face of the giant robot. Izuku wants to be a hero more than anything.

Pieces are easily sacrificed when they're nameless - Nobody ever thought quirkless, weak, weird Midoriya Izuku was dangerous. This perception carried over to his first year high school class, because really despite the super strength Midoriya didn't have it in him to be dangerous. That was their first mistake. And the one that would see them fall.

Not exactly BAMF izuku but i just wanted to rec these fics <3

In the shade of a sunflower - Being biologically quirkless came more with an extra pinkie joint in the toes and a stunning lack of vestiges mutations. It came with smaller things, like extra teeth that did virtually nothing, exploding organs, and weird exposed nerves that weren't designed to feel pain.

Throat Punch - In which Aizawa attempts to teach Izuku how to use various battle tactics and it goes just about as well as you'd expect. At least Shinsou is there with his fantastic commentary. (just a fun lil thing where izuku is really stronk and trains with shinsou and aizawa)

So Be It - He could still do good. Midoriya could show them all what a hero without powers looked like. If he had to break a few rules to do it, so be it. So be it… (as stated not exactly BAMF but its a vigilante izuku so ye-)

Never Enter a Drinking Game with Bakugo or Izuku - Izuku walks in on Kirishima and Kaminari having a drinking competition (no alcohol involved). And it reminds him of an old story.

5 Times Midoriya Taught Class 1A about Memes and 1 Time they Found a Villain that Understood Them - After being diagnosed as quirkless, Midoriya gets into pre-guirk media and finds memes. He shares them with Class 1A. Aizawa doesn't get paid enough for this. (THIS FIC???? FUCKING AWESOME. LITERALLY WHAT I WANTED TO SEE)

Midoriya: JD Version - Nedzu has decided that a play should be put on so that the students can learn how to "go undercover", an idea which Aizawa thinks is utter bullshit. They're putting on Heathers and when Nedzu chooses to cast Midoriya for JD, everyone objects. Midoriya is a much better actor than they thought.

that is a lot!! I hope you have fun reading it!!!

[writerwithfluffysocks]

BB Fic Rec List

Remember to kudos, like, favorite and review! Authors love that love and support for their work!

Most of these fics are rated T or M so if you're underage or that's not your thing then these probably won't be for you. Fics are broken down into categories to make it easier and each states number of chapters, rating and word count. Enjoy!

/

CANON FICS

A Dream Within a Dream by BlindAssassinUK (M, 25 chapters, 125k words)

Booth struggles to recover from his brain surgery and with Sweets' assessment that his feelings for Bones aren't real. As if this wasn't enough to keep our favourite FBI agent busy, a serial killer comes to town. Mostly written in tandem with Season 5.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5392047/1/A-Dream-Within-a-Dream

A Lotta Heart by nelliesbones (M, 10 chapters, 18k words)

"Bones, she believes in the system." Except that she didn't. Not completely. Not anymore... This is a story about a woman protecting her family. A story about the man who loves her. Spoilerfree, warm-hearted and M for a reason.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8186135/1/A-Lotta-Heart

An Aggregation of Maladjusted Companions by Jazzyproz (M, 43 chapters, 250k words)

Suffering from a declining solve rate following their returns to DC, Booth and Brennan are forced to attend a team-building convention. Neither of them think they need the workshops or exercises, but it's apparent to everyone around them that if they don't do something, the whole team will soon be falling apart. Can they fix their broken partnership?

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11132403/1/An-Aggregation-of-Maladjusted-Companions

An Unexpected Outcome by BB-loverr (M, 5 chapters, 8k)

Before she could do anything Booth had her pinned. He made sure most of his weight was on his elbows so he wasn't crushing her. Someone is after Bones & Booth is protecting her. Set in early season 5

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5590619/1/An-Unexpected-Outcome

Becoming One by nelliesbones (M, 21 chapters, 83k) 

He is handsome, she is beautiful, and somewhere in between… they have made a baby. Warm-hearted and M for a reason. Slightly spoiler-y AN's, the story itself is spoilerfree.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7012130/1/Becoming-One

By Any Means Necessary by Heather Wyatt (M, 45 chapters, 433k, DARKER FIC)

When an overseas trip for Brennan leaves her in terrible danger, Booth does what is necessary to save her - even if what he is forced to do has the potential to drive her away from him forever. Set in season 5, pre-100th; Inspired by the movie "Taken".

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11549096/1/By-Any-Means-Necessary

Can You Save Her, Agent Booth? by Jazzyproz (M, 62 chapters, 464k)

Booth receives a disturbing text in the middle of the night aboout Bones - will he be able to find her in time? Or will he lose her forever? Will this guy really kill her, or is it just a bluff?

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7723263/1/Can-You-Save-Her-Agent-Booth

Coitus by willgirl (M, 5 chapters, 4k)

After a date, Brennan finds herself unexpectedly at Booth's door. B&B, Rated M for Smut!

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4126515/1/Coitus

First a Dream by Firstadream (M, 17 chapters, 53k)

"I don't want you to move on..." Post 5x16 story. What should've happened between Booth and Brennan.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5900783/1/First-A-Dream

For You, I’d Bleed Myself Dry by coffeehelps (M, 1 chapter, 11k)

The night that Booth took a bullet for Brennan in front of that karaoke stage was forever ingrained in Brennan's mind. Every year, on the anniversary of that night, Brennan experiences those volatile feelings all over again… and they help her realize just how much Booth means to her.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13382298/1/for-you-i-d-bleed-myself-dry

Learning to Fly by Shelly (T, 3 chapters, 8k)

It was never his intention to hurt her. And, yet, she was sitting on the edge of the tub, his bathrobe consuming her small frame, tears cascading down her cheeks. He didn't know how to fix this. Post "The End in the Beginning."

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5231358/1/Learning-to-Fly

Recklessness and Repercussions by Nothing But Bones (M, 7 chapters, 29k)

Booth overhears one of his colleagues crudely reliving an intimate rendezvous with Brennan, and his ill-conceived reaction threatens to end their partnership on a permanent basis, leaving their emotions running dangerously high.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4605409/1/Recklessness-Repercussions

This Secret Dance by ALottaHeart (M, 14 chapters, 43k)

But this secret dance, it goes on. This. This is for them, between them, and they're not ready to share that with the world. Not yet. They've waited too long. Booth/Brennan. Spoilers for 100th episode.

CASE FICS

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6062651/1/This-Secret-Dance

/

Bone of Contention by Mochi-girl (M, 15 chapters, 33k)

During a murder investigation, a man from Brennan's past returns, and spins her relationship with Booth in a new direction.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5558981/1/Bone-of-Contention

Case File 2010c by lexeb (M, 1 chapter, 40k)

Booth and Bones face their worst case to date. Will our duo catch their man? Dark themes and imagery. Note rating. Written as an episode. Most characters appear.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5789374/1/Case-File-2010C

Crimson Catastrophe by Dangereux (M, 5 chapters, 24k)

Booth and Brennan work a case that pushes them both to their limits, and into each other's arms.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5929308/1/Crimson-Catastrophe

Fear and Faith by Some1tookmyname (M, 35 chapters, 59k)

When a suspicious note is discovered in an unexpected place, Booth and Brennan fight against an unknown enemy to protect the life they've built together.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7981371/1/Fear-and-Faith

Getting Clean by blc (M, 1 chapter, 11k)

Brennan feels soiled after catching a serial killer. Booth helps her get clean again. Long Angst/Romance

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4621793/1/Getting-Clean

Hearts in Overdrive by Christi Whitson (M, 22 chapters, 136k)

After stumbling upon the suspicious deaths of two men from Brennan's past, she is determined to learn the truth about how they died. Booth and Brennan deal with the emotional fallout of their discoveries as the events of S3 unfold.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12190876/1/Hearts-in-Overdrive

The Effects of the Fan by gatewatcher (T, 1 chapter, 9k)

Someone is stalking Brennan. Will Booth be able to keep her safe? What will the effects be from his attempt?

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12568373/1/The-Effects-of-the-Fan

The Gentleman in the Club by TheModernLeper (M, 11 chapters, 10k)

The team tracks a serial killer to a popular night club. With Brennan as bait, can Booth and the team keep her from becoming his next victim?

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4764864/1/The-Gentleman-in-the-Club

The Remains in the Rain by forensicsfan (T, 45 chapters, 70k)

What starts out as a trip to Seattle to promote Brennan's latest book turns into much more as secrets surface in flood waters and Booth and Brennan find that a few of their own secrets surface in the process.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3934573/1/The-Remains-in-the-Rain

The Two in One in the Park by ShaViva (T, 17 chapters, 80k)

Brennan and Booth are called in to investigate the remains of two victims arranged to portray a killer's twisted vision of a romantic forever. As they close in on the culprit they find themselves closing in on each other as well. AU early season 6. B&B

AU FICS

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6054481/1/The-Two-in-One-in-the-Park

/

All My Yesterdays by cardiogod (M, 36 chapters, 134k)

Booth has been taught since early childhood that a wise man builds his house on rock, not sand, but it isn't until the ground starts shifting under him that he realizes he never learned how to tell them apart.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7801702/1/All-My-Yesterdays

Burdens Which Allow Us To Fly by Mis Chi Evous (T, 1 chapter, 9k)

An alternate universe, where Brennan's parents are both killed, and Russ is in the Army with Booth. A study in how some things are meant to be.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6290511/1/Burdens-Which-Allow-Us-To-Fly

Desert Storm by Alonzo Anonymouse (M, 12 chapters, 13k)

Operation Desert Storm: Sergeant Seeley Booth was captured and tortured. His first assignment back is to stand guard over an Anthropology professor and his grad students, sent to identify bodies. One of those students is Temperance Brennan.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6032735/1/Desert-Storm

Hostile Takeover by F.H. Blake (M, 22 chapters, 70k)

Booth is a billionaire businessman hell-bent on buying Bones' club, The Lab. Bones is hell-bent on keeping Booth as far away from her club as possible. The two worlds collide one night over too many shots, and Booth and Bones soon realise that enemies don't constantly want to rip each other's clothes off.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12538952/1/Hostile-Takeover

Killing Two Birds by dmnky (M, 34 chapters, 171k)

After six months in Maluku, Brennan is summoned to Afghanistan to identify remains from a military helicopter crash and assist Sgt. Maj. Booth in investigating the cause of it.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7710873/1/Killing-Two-Birds

The Couple in the Alternate Universe by perscribo (M, 12 chapters, 22k)

Booth and Brennan are not who we know them to be. One is on the right side of the law and the other isn't. Their love story under conflicting circumstances.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12583235/1/The-Couple-in-the-Alternate-Universe

His by Athena Alexandria (T, 40 chapters, 99k)

AU. Post The Critic in the Cabernet. Booth struggles with his decision to let Brennan raise their child alone after she uses his sperm to get pregnant.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6660822/1/His

The Opportunity by BtrixMcG (M, 8 chapters, 49k)

AU: Seeley Booth is the CEO of a prominent communications company and one of the most powerful men in the industry. Temperance Brennan is a brilliant young analyst who comes into his employ and gets far more than she bargained for.

COLLEGE/HIGH SCHOOL AU FICS

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6582371/1/The-Opportunity

/

Follow You Down by ButterflyWhisperer (T, 26 chapters, 85k)

The year is 1989 and our favorite group of crime fighters meet 16 years prior to 2005. Temperance Brennan is a lonely foster kid that just moved to D.C while Seeley Booth is battling demons from his past. What happens when this unlikely pair of teenagers & their friends end up trying to solve a murder their favorite teacher was framed for? And will love blossom?

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10640406/1/Follow-You-Down

Healing Two Souls by cmol8806 (M, 43 chapters, 146k)

Temperance Brennan is almost eighteen and entering her last foster home after barely surviving her last one. Seeley Booth is just returned from war, with new nightmares. What happens when they meet?

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6867582/1/Healing-Two-Souls

Purak: A Less Cheesy Way of Saying You Complete Me by boothaddict77 (T, 35 chapters, 163k)

14-year-old Tempe Brennan, recently abandoned by her parents, moves into a new home with her brother and his friend. Of course, the young man they will be sharing a roof with is none other than Seeley Booth.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7764189/1/Purak-A-Less-Cheesy-Way-of-Saying-You-Complete-Me

White Knight by LordLanceahlot (M, 17 chapters, 52k)

Temperance 'I-don't-know-what-that-means' Brennan. At a fraternity party. Drinking heavily and being mauled by some punk frat boys. Booth scowled at the thought. His freaking forensics tutor. Time to go play white knight.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5785872/1/White-Knight

Beginning of Forever by JulesSC (M, 37 chapters, 301k)

Chicago, 1988. Tempe, 14 year old foster child. Seeley, 16 year old jaded junior. Can these two help each other and change each other's lives?

SMUT HEAVY FICS

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6346762/1/Beginning-of-Forever

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Any Way She Wants It by sleeplessinatlanta (M, 7 chapters, 33k)

When Booth's prodding makes Brennan snap and reveal the extent of her frustrations, he offers to help her out. He thinks, he can handle it, but nothing is ever that simple.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6343873/1/Any-Way-She-Wants-It

Bad Excuses by Pereybere (M, 4 chapters, 7k)

Brennan and Booth are using work stress as an excuse to get naughty.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4134057/1/Bad-Excuses

Breaking All The Rules Tonight by sleeplessinatlanta (M, 25 chapters, 57k)

Brennan tells Booth she has a sex date and he doesn't take it very well. He's determined to show her why she should be his.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5303079/1/Breaking-all-the-Rules-Tonight

Silent Surrender by sleeplessinatlanta (M, 25 chapters, 27k)

Brennan shows up at Booth's house needing only one thing: him. One silent night could never be enough but it's months later and they still find themselves going crazy at night and pretending during the day. How much longer can they keep silent?

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5398682/1/Silent-Surrender

Exercise in Self Restraint by sleeplessinatlanta (M, 8 chapters, 30k)

B&B are in an established relationship and Brennan has a naughty proposal for Booth which involves tons of frustration.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5617523/1/Exercise-in-Self-Restraint

Fighting Words by sleeplessinatlanta (M, 26 chapters, 71k)

Collection of one-shots. Some heated words, an argument, and tons of B/B hotness.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5448139/1/Fighting-Words

Hours by Dispatch22705 (M, 25 chapters, 47k)

A look at 24 different sexy times between Booth and Brennan. One post for every hour.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7506156/1/Hours

Colors by Dispatch22705 (M, 12 chapters, 50k)

12 separate one shots: each one based on a color idea.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5845810/1/Colors

Rooftops and Invitations by Space77 (M, 5 chapters, 17k)

You can’t stop thinking about him, you can’t stop looking at him. So do something about it.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4516879/1/Rooftops-and-Invitations

Talk to Me by SSJL (M, 31 chapters, 118k)

All he wanted was a moment of honesty from her. All she wanted was to be able to give him this.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3458085/1/Talk-to-Me

Morning, Nooner and Night by Dispatch22705 (M, 1 chapter, 9k)

A 'one shot' so to speak, of a few firsts between Booth and Brennan. He made love to her in the morning, had sex with her at noon and broke a few laws with her at night.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7239541/1/Morning-Nooner-and-Night

Only Between Us by sleeplessinatlanta (M, 100 chapters, 142k)

Collection of one-shots, some really short, others longer. Some funny, some angsty, some sweet. But ALL should be steamy/sexy/sweet. ALL revolving around B/B and their smoking hot dynamic.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5329849/1/Only-Between-Us

Alphabet by OrigamiFlower (M, 15 chapters, 22k)

A whole load of one shots of Booth and Brennan dedicated to the Alphabet.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6088489/1/Alphabet

Alphabet Recurrences by Dr Madness (M, 25 chapters, 51k)

The Alphabet means a lot to Booth and Brennan. It captures every single romantic, hot, steamy and dirty moment between them.

ONE-SHOT FICS

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5666368/1/Alphabet-recurrences

/

A Family Business by nelliesbones (M, 14 chapters, 20k)

A story of one-shots and scenes around the beautiful and highly anticipated season seven of Bones.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7449862/1/A-Family-Business

An Epic Before Bed by eitoph (T, 1 chapter, 3k)

She's written this life and she's lived this life, and now she knows which one she prefers. 4.26/6.22/6.23 and how they all fit together.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7037787/1/An-Epic-Before-Bed

Anything by CupcakeBean (M, 1 chapter, 3k)

“I’ve flown across the country, pulled strings, broken the law, risked my career, risked my life, *lost* my life - all for her." Booth and Brennan realize how much they mean to each other and give in to their attraction.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4961754/1/Anything

Don’t Mess With Booth by Aisho9 (T, 1 chapter, 2k)

Caught in the middle of someone else's battle, Brennan is hurt. The perp is in hot water enough, but now he's got a pissed off Booth to deal with, too.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5869658/1/Don-t-Mess-With-The-Booth

Ferocious Love by rhyme time (M, 1 chapter, 1k)

Booth is feeling possessive of his wife.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9789714/1/Ferocious-Love

Lies and Life by Tadpole24 (T, 1 chapter, 1k)

“I’m not this person who can’t tell if it’s reality or fantasy and I’m not this person who shows up on someone’s door step, crying at 3 am. This is something Bren would do, not something Bones would.”

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5693685/1/Lies-and-Life

Pray for George who offends Booth and Brennan by Hannah Taylor1 (M, 1 chapter, 6k)

A cautionary tale for those who would cross Booth and his lady love.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5890044/1/Pray-for-George-who-offends-Booth-and-Brennan

The Finally in the Holding by carol204 (M, 1 chapter, 5k)

Booth appears in Brennan's house on a rainy night with unresolved issues. She's pushed him too far and now they've reached their breaking point.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6630976/1/The-Finally-to-the-Holding

The Standard by RositaLG (M, 1 chapter, 1k)

"Tell me again." He said, his voice strained with anger and his jaw ticking in restraint. "Tell me that you don't need me."

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7421321/1/The-Standard

We Belong Together by Dispatch22705 (M, 1 chapter, 5k)

While Booth is away, Brennan goes to a crime scene. Booth is furious when he finds out. When he calls her on it, it's in a place he wouldn't have expected, but is all so familiar to both of them. Angsty, angry sex but with a resolved B&B ending in bed

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5846725/1/We-Belong-Together

You With Me by mia101 (M, 1 chapter, 3k)

Takes place after Booth's fight in Vegas. Brennan is tending his injuries and recalling how it felt to watch him fight, wondering what it would be like if she were the kind of woman she's been pretending to be.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4224265/1/You-With-Me

[thiswasinevitableid]

62. you set off the fire alarm and I have a test tomorrow, and I might strangle you

Sternclay, sfw, please!

Why do fire alarms only go off in March? The one time Stern set one off (he fell asleep studying and the dinner he was reheating started smoking) it was in that endless stretch of time where the snow is no longer festive but will keep falling for at least two more months.

More importantly, who is responsible for interrupting his carefully planned out six hours of sleep before his midterm at eight this morning?

He stands in the freezing cold with the building’s other three occupants; the single man who looks like he stars in lumberjack porn and the girlfriends who live on the ground floor.

“Sorry” The other man mumbles, “I was making doughnuts and the oil I was using got too hot without me noticing.”

Stern runs a hand through his hair and keeps his voice low, “Why were you cooking with hot oil at three in the morning?”

“When I can’t sleep, I bake.”

“Can I suggest a less flammable hobby in the future?”

“Hey man, it was an accident. And it’s not my fault they stuck the fire alarm too high up for me to get to it before it called the fire department.”

“Too high? You’re taller than I am and I can reach mine.”

“My ceilings are higher and it was tucked between the cabinets and the roof.”

“Oh yeah, ours is in a super-weird place too.” Aubrey, one of the ground-floor neighbors, pats the offenders arm, “it’s okay Barclay, it’s just a little smoke.”

“That may be the case for you three, but I have an exam that’s worth thirty percent of my grade in six hours and I need my goddamn sleep.”

“Yeesh, man, chill out. They’re already waving us back in.” Aubrey points to the door of the three story house.

“I timed everything to optimize my sleep schedule so it actually is a big deal.”

Barclay glowers at him, “Look, I said sorry. But maybe get used to the fact the world doesn’t run on your schedule, mr. control freak, and fucking get over it.”

Stern keeps a smile flat as he bites out, “go to hell” and heads upstairs to salvage what’s left of his schedule.

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

The crash from downstairs comes at nine p.m; he has a huge day at his internship tomorrow, but Stern doesn’t hear any sounds after it, and he is not about to let a neighbor die on his watch.

“Barclay? Are you okay?” He puts his ear to the door, the heater drowning out all ambient noise.

“Nope, not really, agh, fuck, the doors locked, lemme try to stand-”

“Stay put.” He runs upstairs, grabs his wallet, and uses his debit card to trick the lock, “Shit, what happened?”

Barclay is clutching his forehead, blood between his fingers, and his ankle is swelling. “I got really dizzy, caught my foot on the couch and then my forehead on the table on the way down. Ow, fuck, it better not be broken” he growls as Stern kneels to look at his foot, “I’ve got a shift in six hours.”

“I can’t tell. You should get to a hospital; if it’s injured and you try to work on it, you might have an even worse fall.”

“Fuck, I’m not even sure I can afford the ambulance, let alone the fucking E.R.”

He knows Dani and Aubrey are out, “Any family in town, or a boyfriend?”

“No, if there I woulda called them.” He snaps, then tries for a slow inhale, “sorry, it just, it hurts-”

“I can take you in my car, that’ll be one less worry.” Stern helps Barclay up, gets him to his sedan, then tells him to hold tight while he gets something for his head. He ends up grabbing the first clean fabris he finds, which is how Barclay ends up in the E.R while holding a “Roswell, NM” tank-top to his forehead.

“Sorry to ruin your, uh, souvenir?” He mumbles as they wait for the doctor.

“It’s for a good cause. Besides, I know how to get bloodstains out of fabric.”

“That...that makes you sound like a serial killer.”

“If I were a serial killer I would wear things that could stain.” Stern winces, “sorry, I read too many true crime books.”

“I just don’t have the stomach for them. I like fictional mysteries but real ones?” he shivers, “makes me think an axe murderer is gonna break into my place. I mean, you did it with a credit card.”

“If you’d had the chain thrown it might have been another story. “

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Barclay shifts in the plastic seat, “you, uh, you don’t have to hang around. Know you got a rigid schedule.”

Joseph runs a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry for being so annoyed last week when you set off the alarm. I’m not always great at handling changes.”

“To be fair, doughnuts probably weren’t the best stress baking choice.”

“Did they turn out?”

“Nah. I’ll have to try ‘em another time. Did, uh, did your test go okay?”

“Yes. I, um, I got a perfect score.”

Barclay laughs, the sound like warm honey, and Stern blushes at looking so deeply nerdy in front of someone with a smile like that.

“Mr. Cobb? We’re ready to see you.”

The bearded man gives an slightly awkward wave as he follows the nurse through the double doors. Stern returns the gesture, pulls up the chess app on his phone, and settles in to wait until his neighbor is done.

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

Barclay comes out his nap the scrchh of a brush on tile. His first thought is that he’s so late for work he’s unavoidably fucked. His second one is who the fuck is in his bathroom?

His ankle twinges, jogging his memory; he got back from the hospital at 11:30, no stitches needed on his head but bedrest required for his ankle. He’d been contemplating how to convince his manager to let him shift from the warehouse to somewhere he could sit. Joseph raised an eyebrow and asked for his phone while telling him to go get into bed. All Barclay overheard was a polite, steely voice mentioning the labor laws in Dane County and how it’d be a shame if someone were to arrange an OSHA spot check. The last thing he recalls before falling asleep was Joseph telling him he had the next day off.

That doesn’t explain the cleaning sounds, though.

“Oh, you’re up.” Joseph pokes his head in from the hall. His hair is coming loose from his usual slicked-down style and he’s in a V-neck and sweatpants instead of the suit Barclay sees him in most days, “I hope I didn’t wake you; since you gave me the spare key I thought I’d check on you when I got back from my internship and leave you some take-out from the Thai place around the corner--you said the green curry was your favorite--but then I thought I should wait until you got up to see if you needed anything, so I, um, I cleaned your tub while I waited for you to wake up.”

Barclay isn’t sure what part of that is the most baffling. Or the most touching.

“Why the tub?” He eases his legs over so he’s sitting on the edge of the bed.

“It’s satisfying. And I, um, I clean when I’m stressed.” He wipes his hands on the rag in his front pocket, “I was worried about you, and my internship was murder today. They’re mounting a case against one of the biggest employers in the state and everyone’s on edge.”

“Heh, kinda makes me glad I work at WalMart.” Barclay takes the crutch Joseph offers him and hobbles into the kitchen, “oh, uh, if you want to try some cake, there’s leftover cinnamon spice cake in the fridge.”

“I think I will, thank you.” He bends into the fridge and wow has his ass always been that nice, “can I grab you a drink from in here?”

“One of those pre-bottled Kahlua things in the door; have ‘em for a friend but one sounds good right now.” He watches Joseph open it for him, setting it down before he pulls out Barclay’s chair for him. Normally, the kind of fussing and light ordering around Joseph has directed at him makes him bristle. This last day, it just made him feel safe and cared about.

He could get used to this.

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

“Good lord, we’ve even got a flood warning.” Joseph sets down his phone as rain attempts to pummel the house to dust, “Some days I wish we lived closer to one of the lakes but this is not one of them. Should we check to see if Dani and Aubrey need any emergency supplies for if we have to shelter here? I always keep more than I need.”

“Nah, Dani’s got a strong self-sufficiency streak; got her a bucket emergency kit for Christmas last year.” Barclay pops the cork on the Pinot Grigio they got for dinner, “and I don’t think they forgot your semi-drunk promise that if they ever had to run from a flood they had full permission to break open your front door to be safe on the third floor.”

“I meant it, drunk or no.” Joseph takes down the plates and portions out the carbonara; he’s been trying to cook when he has time, both because he likes it and because it gives him and Barclay something to talk about. Not that they need the help.

Things changed after the trip to the E.R; Barclay would bring Joseph fresh cookies or pie. Joseph would offer Barclay rides when their schedules overlapped. Barclay introduced him to his favorite trivia night spot. Joseph took some of his cookies to a worker-owned bakery where a former co-student worked, which led to Barclay getting a new job.

Now they see each other almost every day, whether that’s watching movies on Barclay’s cramped couch or joining Dani and Aubrey for board game night.

He’s pleased with how the pasta turned out, even more so with the fact that when their legs bump together beneath the table, Barclay doesn’t pull away.

They’re on the couch, chatting about the recurring themes in ghost movies, when the storm starts in earnest. The sky is so dark it may as well be nine at night, the lighting and thunder performing a cacophonous two-man show across it. The closer the thunder gets, the more Barclay tenses.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah” a thunderclap makes him jump, “I know it’s silly but I fucking hate thunderstorms, I have since I was a kid.” He chuckles, “my mom would always end up making a pillow fort for me to hide in.”

“We could do that now.” He offers, tapping his foot against Barclay’s own.

“Know this might be hard to believe, but I wasn’t always six-two.” The other man teases.

“Don’t count me out just yet. Wait here.”

It takes some precarity and most of his thumb-tacks, but soon he’s waving Barclay to come join him.

“Holy shit” Barclay laughs as he sees the bed and part of the floor in Joseph’s tiny bedroom are curtained in blankets, “do you ever half-ass stuff?”

“No one can ever prove I haven’t.”

“Uh huh.” Barclay climbs into the fort, “that’s Joseph speak for ‘no.’”

Joseph plugs in his UFO lights and follows him in, “I’ve failed plenty of times.”

“Not on this. Man, this is gr-” A thunderclap makes him jump, nearly knocking one blanket down, “uh, maybe if I…” He lays on the bed, Joseph deciding it’s the least awkward option to join him in that position.

“You really didn’t have to do this.” The green of the lights add a charming tint to Barclay’s eyes.

“I wanted to.”

His friend looks away, keeps his gaze on his feet as he murmurs, “How come you’re always so nice to me?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“It’s, uh, it’s not because you want something from me?”

“Of course not. Barclay,” he touches the cooks arm, “anything you’re thinking is a favor with an ulterior motive....well, it isn’t. It’s something I did to look out for you.”

“What if I, uh, I didn’t think it was favor hunting and was, uh, a different word that started with “F’?”

This time, when the thunder sounds, Barclay nestles closer to him.

“Oh, Barclay” he drapes a protective arm over his waists, “I didn’t mean it to be. At least, most of the time. There were, um, sometimes when I was more flirtatious than I’d have been if it were anybody else.”

“Do you...want to flirt more?” Barclay mumbles into his shoulder.

Joseph tips Barclay’s chin with his hand, brings their lips together as lightning flashes through the window. When he pulls back, Barclay’s eyes are wide. He kisses him once more just to see if he can make them entirely pupil, then whispers, “I hope we can do more than just flirt.”

“Joseph” strong arms slip below and across him, “fuck, babe, if it’s not flooded tomorrow, promise you’ll let me take you out tomorrow?”

“I’d like nothing better, big guy. In the meantime..” he rolls so Barclay is atop him, “I have some thoughts on how to keep your mind off the storm.”

[youre-fired-s-seaborn]

So you guys are never going to guess what I just did.

I might possibly be writing a tww fic (FOR REAL THIS TIME I PROMISE) and I just finished the first little snippet so I thought I’d share that with y’all!

It’s going to be several chapters, each one from the POV of a different senior staff member, basically just a random collection of scenes where everyone Works Out their Issues. Official summary= The senior staff + Donna think about the past, how far they’ve come, heartbreak, hard times, sleep deprivation, and what family means to them over a ginormous bowl of popcorn.

(Part backstory headcanons, part character study, part found family, part random other shit?? I have no clue where this came from tbh. Anyway enjoy this rambly dumpster fire) (the popcorn is figurative)

Part one is Sam, and I’m sure none of you are surprised 😋 Enjoy!!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Samuel Norman Seaborn was a kid, ‘I want to be a lawyer when I grow up’ was one thought that didn’t cross his mind, not even once. Which is saying something, because little Sam had a lot of thoughts. He had opinions about everything, even things he didn’t understand (especially those) and he had ideas, big ideas that everyone said were going to change the world one day, and he had an imagination the size of the Chrysler building and not enough room in his head for all the stories he wanted to tell. Everyone liked Sam. He was easy to like. At least, until he got a little older and suddenly his imagination was distracting instead of endearing and his ideas were silly instead of helpful and the big books he liked to read were taking time away from more important things. It didn’t make sense to him, because he had always thought they were the most important things in the world, but one day when one too many teachers had commented on it and one too many other children had teased him for it, he sat himself down at his desk and told himself he wouldn’t be like that anymore. Sam decided he wouldn’t be the dreamy one with his head in the clouds anymore. He would be focused, and dedicated, the model student and son.

So somewhere in middle school, Sam Seaborn changed from the cheerful, somewhat dazed and forgetful child he had been into the most intensely focused little academic his teachers had ever seen. Focusing was usually...hard, for Sam. At least, focusing on the right thing. His mind wanted to go in so many different directions and think about so many different things, and none of them were what he should have been focusing on. But he found that if he worked really hard and forced himself to think about one specific thing, then he could usually achieve it. Homework and such wasn’t exactly what he was passionate about, but it was what his parents wanted, and what everyone else around him seemed to want, so he did his best.

He worked hard through high school and when he graduated, he got accepted to Princeton. Sam loved Princeton. He loved everything about it. He started working hard because he liked it, and not because he thought other people wanted him to. He worked towards his law degree, and he got it.

(He never did stop writing, though. It was like a disease. No matter where he was or what he should have been doing, he could never make himself not write.)

There was a bit of a gray area after that, and more than one bad decision, but then he got the job at Gage-Whitney. And Gage-Whitney was...well. He was good at it. It paid well. He kept working his way up the ladder until he made partner, and wasn’t that everyone’s dream? Shouldn’t he love his job? Maybe he should have. He didn’t.

Then there was Lisa, and he couldn’t decide if she had been a mistake or not. He had liked her an awful lot; even loved her. She had been quite fond of him too. It had been real. Once. He remembered nice dinners and radiant smiles and the joy of having a partner who was as smart as you.

God, what happened to us? He’d think sometimes, but it was stupid, because he knew exactly what had happened to them. Sam had quit his job and gone running off to New Hampshire with Joshua Lyman. He’d tried to build a presidential campaign from scratch, then actually managed to accomplish it, which was somehow even worse for their relationship because then he was zipping all over the country without a minute to spare and he told himself he called whenever he could but it wasn’t enough and he knew it. Whenever they did get to see each other, there was a...distance, that there never had been before. Eventually Lisa would say something passive aggressive about how apparently Josh Lyman meant more to him than she did, and Sam would get defensive and mutter something about how he never complained when she always went off to fancy bars with her fancy friends every other night, and she would bark out an incredulous laugh because of course he would find a way to insult her friends when he was the one who had left her in the dust, because wasn’t that just the kind of person he was!

It hurt even more because they cared, they both cared. A lot. But in the end, it didn’t matter, because Sam chose the campaign and she chose to stay and there was nothing they could say to change each other’s minds. Her eyes had gotten big and wet and angry, and he had been numb, staring out at nothing. That was the night she gave him back the ring.

But he tried not to think about it too much now. It was a sure-fire way to ruin his day. Or week, more likely.

“Did you know that supposedly the shortest telegram correspondence in history was between Victor Hugo and his literary agent?” he asked. He was sitting at one of the desks in the bullpen, hunched over some files that he really didn’t want to read. It was one of those days, where there was a lot to do but a lot of time to do it, so you ended up doing anything but what you were supposed to do. One of those days that felt lazy and slow when it shouldn’t have been.

Josh was leaning against an office door frame across from him. “Really.”

“Yeah.” he flipped through some of the papers absently. “To ask how the book sales were doing he just sent a question mark. The guy sent back an exclamation point. And all I’m saying is if Victor Hugo himself could restrain his verbosity like that, then just maybe the guys writing these files could-” he paused as Josh wandered over, resting his forehead against the back of Sam’s head and wrapping an arm around him from behind. “What?” Sam asked.

“Nothing.” Josh chuckled. “You’re just a huge dork.”

“Oh.” He rolled his eyes. “Just part of my charm, I guess.”

“In that case, you are extremely charming.”

“Ha ha.” Sam looked over as Josh slid into the desk chair next to him. “Hey, did CJ say how the briefing went? I was on the Hill all morning.”

Josh shrugged. “It was fine. They were all just asking about whether Jancowitz was going to sink the healthcare bill with his insistence on antagonizing what’s-his-name at the DOD.”

“Ah. Should we send someone to smooth that over?”

“Yeah, you can put Ainsley on it. I’m not too worried.” A problem for another day, then. Josh leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on the desk in front of him. “It’s supposed to keep snowing all night.”

“They said that the last two times it snowed.”

“I think they’re right this time!” Josh protested, tapping the side of his head. “It’s my flawless intuition as an outdoorsman.”

Sam laughed. “At this rate, we could put you on the Weather Channel. You’d be just as accurate as all of those guys.”

“Mmm. With their track record, I could be their boss by next Tuesday.” He squinted at something for a minute before hopping up. “Well, I should probably go work on my thing before Leo has an aneurysm. I’ll come see you later about the environment?”

“Yeah, see you.” He sighed, staring down at the papers while Josh went back to his office. After a minute, he just shook his head and stood up, gathering them in his hands and retreating into his own office. Sam unceremoniously dumped the files onto a shelf, settling into his desk chair. They could be read another day.

Straightening his glasses, he popped open his laptop on the desk in front of him. He tried typing out some remarks for the President’s conference next week, but didn’t get very far. He wandered over to his email, and replied to a few people who had asked him questions.

I should write my dad, he thought absently. It had been a while since his last email. The thing was, thinking about his father in any capacity was Sure-fire Way To Ruin His Week Number Two.

It was...complicated. Sam had never had the best relationship with either of his parents to begin with. They had always been busy, and now he was always busy, and he supposed that it was possible he had lost far too many important things in his life due to people being busy. It didn’t even sound like a good excuse.

His mother was a brilliant, industrious woman who had grown up poor and worked so hard to get their little family off the ground that there was little else left of her now. At least, that was how he’d always felt. She’d always been so caught up in working to secure his future, and seemed to not have time for him in the meantime. Oh, she had tried, but she was always on a phone call or an extra shift and so it had usually just been him and his dad at the house when he was little.

It made his blood boil to think about it too long. Sam had never been close with his mother, but she had worked so hard and given up so much to keep them afloat. And this was how his father had repaid her? By...by...he couldn’t even put it into words. Learning about his father’s mistress had shook him to his core, and hadn’t stopped shaking it since.

Family had never been a very comforting concept to Sam, and after that particular revelation, even the romanticized ideal of it had come crumbling down around him. Family wasn’t supposed to be built on lies and absence and forced smiles. It was supposed to be solid and warm and loving, not shaky and volatile and brimming with hurt.

He could feel his heart clenching with anger and bitterness and grief over what-could-have-beens, and Sam hated being that person. Instead, he stared at the blank white void of the email draft in front of him, forcing himself to breathe deep. What are the others doing right now? he asked himself, his mind latching onto a distraction. Josh was probably working himself up over the environment issue- that, or getting lovingly screamed at by Leo. CJ had just finished a briefing, and was probably high-fiving Carol or bickering with Danny. Toby was most likely scribbling notes for the energy conference, half of which would be crumpled up in the wastebasket by now. Or on fire. Sam smiled to himself, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Hey,” came a cheery voice, and Sam looked up to find Donna in the doorway with a file tucked under her arm. “Any important government business going on in here?”

“Absolutely not,” he assured her, leaning back in his chair. “You need me for something?”

“Nothing pressing,” she replied with a shrug, brushing forward and hopping on top of his desk like she always did. “Toby and Josh are in CJ’s office watching the game if you want to join. ”

“Don’t they have work to do?” he mumbled petulantly.

“I really wouldn’t know,” Donna said with exaggerated innocence. She smirked at him. “But you look so sad and lonely in here, the least I could do was extend the invitation.”

“Hush, you,” Sam lamented, stretching absently. He looked down at his laptop and tapped his fingers on the desk. “I really should be working.”

“So should everyone else,” Donna pointed out. She slid off the desk and crossed her arms, giving him a look. “Sam? Hey, are you feeling okay? You look a little…”

Sam frowned, looking down at himself. “Disheveled?” he suggested, noting his wrinkled shirt and crooked tie.

“Ah,” she said with a nod. “That’s the word I was looking for. But, hey, are you really alright?” She leaned down to rub his shoulder. “You seem gloomy.”

“Yeah,” he replied, sighing. “Just a long day, I guess.”

Donna raised her eyebrows. “And do you know what the perfect antidote for a long day is?”

“Watching the game with Josh and Toby and CJ?” he guessed.

“Exactly!” Donna smiled, bonking him on the head with her file. “See you in five?”

Sam looked back at his email, thinking. If he mustered up the sheer willpower to write to his dad, he would have no idea what to say. And it wasn’t like his relatives in California were truly family, anyway. Not if all he associated with them were pain and disappointment. Maybe he could leave this email for later. Maybe he could watch football with his friends and chuckle at Toby and Josh shouting at the TV and rib CJ when she didn’t understand anything that was happening and forget about all of it, for a little while.

“Yeah,” Sam said, closing the lid to his computer. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

[freddiekluger]

the captain, pre-war (bbc Ghosts HEADCANON)

i saw a fan theory somewhere that the captain, considering his relatively low rank compared to his age, enlisted in the army ww2 and someone suggested he could have been a teacher? i can’t remember the source (will link if i find it), but i fell in love with this idea and aciddentally came up with a whole (gay) backstory- enjoy!

- in his younger years before the second great war, the captain was a history teacher at a mid-range boys secondary school (he has a preference for modern history with a focus on the machines of the industrial revolution and first world war)

- we’ve all seen his leadership style with the other ghosts- he falls somewhere on the scale between strict headmaster and do-what-you-want-as-long-as-you-don’t-get-caught, just don’t complain about the content or you’ll be listening to lectures on the influence of the Watt high-pressure engine until your ears bleed

- the school manages to scramble together enough funds (thanks Great Depression) to hire a new sports coach/groundskeeper/handyman/shop teacher. while the school is supposed to encourage more traditionally academic pursuits, jobs are scarce and some of the students just aren’t suited to law and medicine and all the rest, so a couple of boys can always be found hanging out in the new teacher’s shed-turned-office fiddling around with scraps of wood and metal, learning how to build a radio, or generally avoiding their studies

- naturally, the captain volunteers to welcome the new hire (read: he was the only one who gave enough of a shit to actually check on the new guy)

- the two gradually become friends, the captain sends a few troublemakers down to the new teacher to give them something other than disturbing the class to focus their excess energy on- new guy is really warm and open, and seems to get on well with the students 

- captain and the teacher are always finding excuses to drop by each other’s classrooms, a light in the captain’s room always seems to be breaking so the new teacher decides to show him how to fix it (which, already being into technology, the captain LOVES, so new teacher ends up showing him all sorts of things about practical engineering when they can find a spare moment)

- this is a real slow burn thing, but a while down the track after a particularly harrowing school day (one of the boys blew up the shed, an angry parent rampage, who knows) teacher invites captain back to his apartment for a drink. it’s very clearly with ~intentions~, but we know the captain is a bit oblivious so he’s just like ‘alright, i will go join my very good friend with whom i am so affectionate that i even attempt to crack jokes to make him laugh, despite my attempts at humour not often working, i look forward to a simple scotch with my platonic coworker before returning home, jolly good’

- anyways, they get a bit tipsy, unload about the day, it’s the 1930s so the electric lighting is romantically dim, they’re probably sitting in front of a fireplace chatting away

- we have the trope where the captain says something particular and adorably captain-y, and those alcohol-lowered inhibitions mean the teacher just goes in for the kiss. captain is obviously stunned and the teacher pulls away, but since captain has downed a few scotches, his usual pretences have fallen away, and after a moment he decides 'fuck it' and returns with more intensity. (cue the classy cut away where we KNOW what happens next)

- the next morning, the teacher wakes up first and smiles at a sleeping captain in his bed before stumbling into the shower, but by the time he returns the captain is gone

- captain’s absent from school for a week, and when he finally returns the teacher spots captain in his classroom packing his things into a crate (they were all out of boxes, so he’s just pasted some newspaper over the holes, but it’s thin and shitty so items keep falling through and clanging loudly on the floor, ruining any tension)

- the teacher comes in and tries to talk about what happened, but between the model planes hitting the floor and the captain’s flat out denial, it’s not succesful- the captain tells him he’s leaving to work at another school to be closer to his very ill mother, who’s got “a terrible case of Deskink’s disease” (yes, the captain did just look at a desk and then an inkwell to make up the very obviously fake excuse)

- “you know, the other night when we-” “i’m quite sure i don’t know what you mean. you invited me round, we had a drink, and then i went to bed. in my own home, just me and the hot water bottle... *ahem*”

- the captain leaves for god knows where and represses the whole experience (by the 1930s we’re at the height of the cultural shift from concepts of sexuality being behaviourally based to the idea of an innate identity, so that mixed with the capatains ‘mental fortitude’ makes it entirely possible for him to mental gymnastics his way into at least half believing he’s a heterosexual) things start to escalate over in Germany where he enlists and evenually meets lieutenant havers. the captain is very, very careful never to drink around him.

[bookandcranny]

SAUSAGE SIMULATOR 2000

A single short burst of light, sound, movement. A rhythmic throbbing of the arteries. A dry edible seed, rich in protein, belonging to the legume family. A palpitation of the neck or wrist. A common feature on a blender.

If one day you happen to find someone lying prone and unconscious, the first thing you’ll do is check for a pulse. But even when that signal, that faint tickle of motion is gone, the brain may yet live on for minutes. It may live on even longer.

summary: A surreal scifi horror set In Another Time, Another Place, in which the narrator reminisces on some events, real and dreamed, whole and fragmented, that occurred during their time attending high school alongside their best friend.

word count: 4.3k

content warnings: Insects, parental abandonment, descriptions of gore and body horror

🦗🦗🦗

We give thanks for the grain, for without it we would have no bread. We give thanks for the vermin, for without them we would have no meat. We give thanks for the machine, for without it we would have no work.

The work is to preserve the law. Without the law, the vermin would devour the grain. Without the law, the machine would devour the vermin. Without the law, man would devour the machine.

-----

Sive dissects his sandwiches layer by layer. He’s probably my best friend, but the guy is so weird sometimes. Regardless, these are the moments I remember the most.

We’re on a field trip, our entire grade; it’s one of the few times we get to hang out during school hours, since Sive is in Class C this year and I’m in A. When we break for lunch, he comes over to sit with me on the crumbling stone wall without either of us asking. I take two sandwiches out of my bag and hand him one. He peels it apart and starts licking mustard off a pallet of pink Bugmeat©️.

Maybe it’s now, maybe it’s later. The moments blend together in my recollection, blurred by the years and the medication. I seem to recall a couple of other friends from my class sitting with us, talking and laughing, but whenever Sive is around the world seems to narrow to a single point of focus. He has a way of commanding the room’s attention, with the oscillating pitch and volume of his voice and his swinging hands, illustrating the latest gossip with all the fervor of a street preacher.

In theory, I understand why some of the other kids are afraid of him. He’s taller than maybe anyone I’ve met and the way he hunches his shoulders makes him look sort of looming. The way he talks and the way he smiles, lip curling back into something more like a sneer, doesn’t help. But he’s my friend, has been since we were small, and I know he’s no more frightening than a field mouse. Besides, while he may be tall he’s also rail thin, skin sucking on his joints when he moves, now more than ever. He inhales his sandwich in seconds, even with the picking and fussing that proceeds it, so I give him half of mine too.

I kick my legs over the side of the wall, looking down at the sloping gray-green mountainside. There are a few masses of rock hovering alone, pushed and pulled by rich natural deposits of magnetic ore. I know this place, the sight of it if not the significance. My dad must have brought me once when I was little. He likes these old ruins, but I never got the appeal and can’t really be bothered to listen as the chaperoning teachers drone on and on about its history. I’ll just take some scans and make a recording to study for the test that’s sure to ensue and call it a day. Better yet, glom some notes off of Elege-- she’s got the good pods, and I know she likes me. Then Sive will glom it off of me. Circle of life.

A boy to my left, Tez Walker, unthinkingly wipes his sticky hands off on his uniform shirt. I watch him with a sort of morbid fascination and when I turn back around Sive’s looking at me like he’s waiting for my input on something.

“Sorry, what’d you say?”

He rolls his eyes, big gray eyes. “My mom wired me some more money so we can go to the video park after school. You in?”

“If you’ve got money to see shows, how come I’m buying your lunch?”

“Come on, I don’t have enough for food and streams and rent.”

I hum a non-answer. “When’s your mom gonna come back anyway? Did she say anything this time?”

He shrugs. “Don’t know. I like living on my own anyway.” So long as nobody knows. It’s not technically legal, even though we’re both almost of age. I’m not even sure how he’s managed to keep it a secret thus far, big-mouth that he is. I might tease but I really don’t want to see him relocated to another district. It feels somewhat inevitable, with this being our last year and all, but I’m not ready to let go just yet.

“I’ll pay for the park if you use some of that money to get an exterminator,” I say, pointing at the reddened welt peaking out above his hip.

He pulls down his shirt with an almost guilty expression and laughs through his teeth. “Stop overreacting, it’s probably just acne.”

I give him a dubious look, and he meets it with another shrug.

“We eat bugs, bugs eat us. It’s only fair.” He flaps around the limp half-sandwich for emphasis.

I growl around a mouthful of my own. “Bugmeat©️ isn’t made of bugs. That’s crazy.”

“Uh huh, I think I see a leg in your teeth.”

I swing around and kick his ankle. “I’ll put a leg in your teeth.”

He laughs. He’s laughing. There’s mustard on the corner of his mouth. Yeah, these are the things I remember.

-----

A single short burst of light, sound, movement. A rhythmic throbbing of the arteries. A dry edible seed, rich in protein, belonging to the legume family. A palpitation of the neck or wrist. A common feature on a blender.

If one day you happen to find someone lying prone and unconscious, the first thing you’ll do is check for a pulse. But even when that signal, that faint tickle of motion is gone, the brain may yet live on for minutes. It may live on even longer.

-----

I’m in study hall going over vocab with Elege when I hear the news. One of the first to know and the last to believe it, and even then I don’t trust the way the others tell it. Sive has been in fights before, I know, but only because some kids go out of their way to pick on him. They see his face and his towering stature and it makes them think there’s something to prove there. But while you wouldn’t know it to look at the two of us, I’ve always been the one to squash ticks and spiders for him while he squirms. I can’t imagine him breaking anyone’s nose, especially not without a good reason.

I want to talk to him, to get the truth, but he’s sent home on the spot and when I try to call him after class all he gives me are these curt half-answers and a warning.

“Don’t come over,” he says. He tells me I was right. There’s something in his apartment, roaches or rats or maybe some crossbred mutation of the two. Whatever they are, they're big and they’re bloodthirsty and he doesn’t want me to risk getting bit.

“If your apartment is infested you need to tell someone,” I urge him.

“If I do that, they’ll realize I’ve been living alone and try to move me. This place might be a shithole, but it’s my home.”

“What are you gonna do then?”

There’s a sound in the background of the call, like something heavy being dragged across the floor.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll take care of it.”

Over the days that follow I keep trying to reach Sive and eventually he agrees to meet me somewhere, just not the apartment. He hasn’t finished taking care of it, I guess.

We’ve been scoping out some of the abandoned buildings in the area for a while now, looking for a suitable lair. I first had the idea after we saw this show about urban explorers and modern treasure hunters scouring the skeletons of infested districts in their glimmering kevlar. One night at the park I even manage to glom a few episodes when no one’s looking and save them to my pod.

There’s this one part: One of the crew is walking in a precarious spot when the plates shift suddenly and clamp down around his ankle, crushing it until it more resembles sausage wrung out of its casing than anything human. The man screams and one of his teammates quickly cauterizes the flowering stump with a hot blade. He cleans and binds it and they keep moving, because staying put is more dangerous than pushing on with a missing limb. Sometimes when I’m restless at night, I mute that episode and play it on loop until I fall asleep.

All this to say, it’s not such a surprise when Sive tells me to meet him at the old annex attached to the east wing of the school. Supposedly they used to hold art classes and things like that over there before it got too expensive for them to keep it up. The few remaining cameras are in poor repair and the back entrance is mangled and rusty, making for easy entry. Sometimes the local pests will try to bite you there, but things will try to bite you everywhere and a thick pair of socks resolves the issue well enough. That’s the place where we’ll meet.

But that’s not how it happens. I push past the broken lock with ease and call his name, to no answer. There’s a pink twilight settling over the campus, refracting through tall tinted panes of stained glass. I walk from one end of the building to the other until I come upon the old music room, nothing left inside it but a dusty grand piano and shards of crystalline debris that crunch under my feet. The classroom is/was built like a fishbowl, windows all along the hallway so visitors could look in on the students without letting out the music.

I pick up one big piece of glass and hold it up to the light, but when I turn it around I only see myself, staring darkly. I wait and I wander, but it’s always just me. I leave when it begins to grow dark and I hear something moving in the empty halls.

-----

That’s one thing I remember. Here’s another:

I’m walking from the bus stop with Sive, just Sive. Just us. His eyes are bright and bruised with red. There’s a new cluster of those little bumps crawling up the far side of his neck, but he keeps that side of himself turned away from me. My parents aren’t home yet and I don’t have any plans so I walk with him all the way to his building.

It’s a squat concrete cube with littler cubes inside it, just like any of them. There’s some moss or lichen or something growing in the cracks, and at this time of night it looks almost like mold.

“Do you want to go inside?” I ask, when he lingers on the steps.

He shakes his head, silent in the way he never is. Something's clearly weighing on him. We go around the back to the parking garage and climb up onto the overhang. Sitting here, on a clear night like tonight, you can see everything from the Bug Burger to the distant radio tower. The moon sits bloated and bulging against the city skyline, an egg sac fit for bursting. Sive scratches the back of his knee. Our twin breaths turn to ghosts in the February air.

Sive turns and asks me, “Do you know what you’re going to do after graduation?”

“I guess.” My parents both went to the same college when they were my age, so I’ll be going there too. No reason not to turn down any advantage I can get. My grades aren’t bad, but they aren’t great either, and neither is our area code. “Did you pick a school?”

He doesn’t answer, which is an answer in and of itself. I try to change the subject and wind up spitting out the first thing I can think of.

“Have you heard from your mom?”

“No.” He won’t elaborate.

“When are you coming back to school?”

“Soon.”

“Did you really fight those guys?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Sive looks at me annoyed and instead of answering he says, “A counselor talked to me the day I got suspended. Did you know that?”

I  don't. I didn’t.

“I was leaving the principal’s office and she took me aside and told me that with my record I might want to consider a future in security.”

My breath seizes in my chest. Suddenly I feel like I’m the one who was punched. “But you’re not gonna do it, right?”

The pause that follows feels like an eternity. “Nah, of course not,” he lies.

This isn’t actually the first time we’ve spoken about this, I recall. One night, after a particularly rough exam, he says something like, “At this rate I should just volunteer for security.” It’s a careless sentence, a tactless joke, but I laugh or pretend to laugh, assured he means nothing by it.

“It’ll turn around,” I tell him, and in the moment, I mean it with all my heart.

-----

On the day Sive returns to school, he gets written up for a uniform violation. I never know for sure why. Could be anything, an untucked shirt or an ink stain seeping through his pocket. Laundry and mending costs money, money that I know he doesn’t have since he stopped letting me buy him lunch. I try, but when I bring it up he says he hasn’t been hungry, and as improbable as it sounds I don’t think it’s a lie, at least not entirely. He must have found something else to eat.

We don’t talk about it. We don’t talk about it at all.

-----

“I don’t love you, not like a partner, maybe like a brother. I’ve never had a brother, or any siblings for that matter. It’s always been just me. Except not really. No one is ever really alone. All you have to do is look around, look inside. Inside, there’s all this movement, all this warmth. And you see? That’s the cause of it all. It was in us from the start. It’s not even just the food we eat or the shows we watch, it has always been there.

“Did you know? I returned to our meeting place, that great vestigial organ, but I don’t think you could see me. You only saw your own reflection. It almost made me doubt that you were ever there at all. I don’t love you, but if you asked, I’d do just about anything for you. We didn’t used to need to ask, but right now, I really wish you would.”

-----

I don’t see my friend much these days. Weeks pass, then months. Sometimes he comes to school, enough to keep the threat of investigation at bay, but-- and I don’t know how to explain this, but even when he’s here he’s also not. Or maybe he is, and he’s just hiding from me.

I keep looking for him right up until the final day, but even then we’re divided by class and I can’t pick out his face in the crowd of all our classmates. We file into the gymnasium where someone’s set up a little wooden stage with a scuffed red carpet draped over the frame and opened all the doors, filtering out some of the stifling, sweaty air and letting in the summer scents of hot asphalt mingling with freshly laid turf.

It’s a bit embarrassing to admit I don’t remember much of my highschool graduation. It seems like one of those things you’re supposed to remember, to hold and cherish years down the line, but in the moment all I know is it’s hot and crowded and I am painfully bored. The principal and vice principal stand up and give some speech while the students fiddle impatiently with their heavy, itchy robes. A girl standing in front of me quickly applies another layer of makeup to a bubbling red patch of acne on her chin. I watch her for longer than I like to admit before tearing my eyes away to search for Sive again.

He’s nowhere to be seen, but he has to be here. No one misses graduation because no one doesn’t graduate, no matter what other infractions they may have committed. My name is called, I receive my diploma, and that’s all. I return to my place and wait. I wait for one thing even as I tumble blindly towards another.

As the ceremony crawls to a close, the principal returns to the lectern at the center stage. He says,

“Before we wrap things up, I have one final announcement. This year a number of our graduates will honor their community by volunteering for the city security tract. Will the following students please come to the stage.”

My heart pounds. I know before I know, still I don’t start screaming until I hear his name get called. The animal grief punctures my lungs and bleeds out my throat in a rushing torrent, clawing and scraping. My classmates and their families all around me barely seem to react. At most they exchange some fleeting glances of pity and annoyance as I fall to my knees.

Someone touches my shoulders, to comfort or to quiet, then I’m being dragged away. Someone or many someones; I don’t know but I like to think I put up a fight. If I try hard enough, it might turn out different this time.

-----

I have this recurring nightmare sometimes. In it, I see myself, or the figment of myself projected into my own mind by an outside eye. Through that narrow watery lens, I see it/me standing in a beam of light. I’m hosting one of those nighttime shows where they used to read the lotto numbers. There’s a big lottery spinner made up of opaque, milky polygons and it tumbles with a sound like chattering teeth.

I turn the crank around and around and when the device finally spins to a stop it flails in my direction a sort of wet nozzle appendage whose shape reminds me of a shower head. I wrap my hands around its vermiform neck and wring a number from the puckered opening, but when I hold up the little white ball to call the winner, the number begins to morph and multiply into a string of numbers, and letters, and symbols I don’t recognize. I can’t divine the meaning and so I start to cry.

The ball splits open.

-----

NO NO NO NO STOP STOP IT NO NO NO STOP NO

-----

Ears ringing, vision swimming, I can barely make out my friend’s face as he steps out onto the stage. I writhe, I howl. I try to make him change his mind. Surely it’s not too late, I think. And I’m sure he hears me. He turns toward the crowd and as I’m pulled through the double doors I desperately will him to see me. He never meets my gaze.

Anyway, that’s all I remember. That, and one other thing but I promise, it will not bring you satisfaction.

-----

After I complete my first semester, I catch a train and vow to spend at least a few days pretending to enjoy my winter break back home before I ultimately retreat into the cradle of my studies. It’s strangely nostalgic to be here, even though chronologically speaking I haven’t actually been gone for very long. Time holds no dominion over feeling, however, no matter what people might tell you.

I am changed. I know that, I think I do. It’s all subjective I guess but the way I speak, the way I carry myself, even the way I dress has changed-- more pale patterned shirts, less muddy sneakers. My mom says I’m just in the process of acclimating myself to college life, that she went through the same thing when she was my age, and I don’t really have much choice but to believe her. Call it growing pains, I guess. Call it a new chapter, a fresh start. Call it anything that keeps you comfortable while you roll around in bed at night.

As I walk around the place I’ve known all my life, I find myself mesmerized by the sight of my white breath dissolving against the cornflower blue sky. I can’t remember the last time I saw a sky so clear. Maybe it’s that succoring sense of reminiscence that draws me back to the grounds of my old highschool. More realistically, it’s probably something to do with my recent change in medication. I’m technically not supposed to be walking alone like this yet; my head gets all fuzzy and I’m liable to get confused. The past bleeds into the present and back and forth and back again like a swinging pendulum, although that analogy, I realize, attaches an impression of consistency to the idea that the reality rarely lives up to.

It’s not all bad though. My focus has improved, and I’m sleeping less but I don’t feel as tired. My math scores have gone up by an average of seven points.

The path is still so familiar to me I could walk it blind, and I don’t realize just where I’ve come until I’m standing outside the front gate. It’s locked, for obvious reasons. Upon a second glance I notice that the school buildings themselves look quite different than I remember them. The dilapidated annex has finally been torn down for one thing. Disappointing. I linger regardless, tracing the perimeter, trying to put a name to this distant feeling of unease.

A shadow passes over my eyes and I smell rot. Rounding a corner I see a cluster of massive, chittering vermin gnawing on the fence where it’s gone red from oxidation. From a distance, from the right angle, their undulating black backs make it look as though the pavement is breathing.

Distantly, I know I should be afraid, but the fear doesn’t quite make it through the veil. One insectoid catches sight of me and rears back, flaring its rear wings and giving me a gurgling hiss of warning.

Before I can react, a security drone-- one of the Angel series, if I’m not mistaken-- descends upon the vermin and carves through them a gory swath of bright pink gristle. Their scattered serrated bits stay twitching where they lay. Some other dispatch from city security will be by in time to clean up the remains.

The bugs are getting so much bigger than they used to be. I have a theory about that actually, but there’s no one I feel like telling it to. It’s sad. This used to be a nice neighborhood.

The Angel series are still a pretty new breed, a hot commodity, recently introduced to the district in the wake of some new hives popping up. It’s honestly fascinating to see one up close like this, and more than a little frightening. At least eight feet of perfect patented genes, of muscle and metal, circuits like the most delicate seams running up the length of its thick fibrous limbs.

It starts to walk away, its work complete, and suddenly I feel this pressing need to stop it. It’s indescribable, the need, an emotion so strong after blank, dreamlike months that it's like a physical probing in my lower stomach. I stagger and trip in my haste, scraping the palm of my hand where I catch myself. The scent of blood emboldens some more common pests, tiny slug-like masses that poke up their pulsing head through the cracks and wriggle from the ground to get a taste. The drone exterminates them with ease as well. All the while I am searching the impassive Angel’s face for some sign of emotion, of recognition.

Bioengineering isn't exactly my field, but I’m not stupid. No, stupid's not the word-- naive. I know it may likely be only a small part of him in there, if anything at all, split into individual strands and laced throughout the makeup of a dozen distinct living machines. Security is very efficient, threshing away the superfluous husk of personality and, like a pot of simmering fat, rendering their creations down to the most basic, most useful parts. Only then are the fresh-cooked soldiers that come out the other side of this procedure truly ready to protect us.

There’s no reason to believe whatever shred of him that remains should know me. Still, selfish creature that I am, I stare into his/its featureless not-face and I search for my friend one more time. I search for big lip-curling smiles, patchy teenage stubble, gray eyes bright with laughter or tears. I would have him any way. I would have him on the worst days: dirty and hungry, bruised and bloodied and bug-bitten. I could even love him, I think. I could love him.

“Sive?” I ask. There’s a quiet rasp to my voice, a wavering uncertainty that shames me even now.

The Angel does not respond, but neither does it turn away.

“Look at me,” I beg, staring into my own reflection in the darkened visor. “Look at me.”

Another few drones drop down across the green, summoned by a signal from their kin. There’s a distressed civilian in need of escort. Of course, of course. These chimerical android creatures are almost completely identical, masses of matching sinew growing like vines around the mass-produced metal hulls, and nothing throbbing inside them but a singular purpose. I realize, abruptly, my foolishness and allow myself to be herded off the premises.

I’d like to say I looked back. Someone like me, forever sick with sentiment? Of course I would look back. That’s not what this is though. This is not closure. This is not an ending, not an exit or an epilogue. The food chain we worshiped back then was as immutable as it was self-serving, a rare form of autocannibalism that feeds everyone and nourishes no one. These still-twitching remains are, as I well know, just a memory.