#with the understanding that it might be another six months before i post because the planets have to align for me to write | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

avastrasposts · 1 year ago

Text

A Baker's Dozen - One

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

This is my first original fic after The Pilot and his Girl and it will be a very different read (just in case you're totally traumatised by The Pilot...😬)

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve short stories, each set in the same bakery. The plan is to post one chapter every Sunday night so hold me to that schedule when my procrastination kicks in!

Warnings won't be very serious, just lots of fluff, lots of food, some mention of drugs because you know some of these Pedro boys are just like that.

Series Master List

@harriedandharassed tagging you in this because you said you wanted to read anything new ❤❤❤

The drawback of being a baker is that your working day starts when others are still tucked in bed with hours left to sleep. Or just coming home from a party. But you don’t mind all that much, there’s a certain tranquil peace to being awake and working in the bakery while the rest of the world sleeps.

In the warmer months you prop open the back door so that you can hear the birds starting to sing as the sky slowly grows lighter outside, today is just one of those mornings.

The early morning radio show is on low in the background as you prepare the day. Yesterday's loaves have proofed overnight in the cold storage and are ready for the oven, the pie doughs taken out and softening while you prepare the cookie doughs.

People don’t often knock on the bakery's back door before you open for the day, but it happens, so when you suddenly hear someone shuffle and knock, you’re not surprised. Wiping your hands on your apron you turn the corner into the small back room. A man is leaning on the door frame, but not the sexy, romance novel leaning. No, this man is leaning in a ‘lean-or-fall-over’ kinda way. His eyes are covered by large black sunglasses that he pulls down as you spot him, a tired but cheeky smirk on his face.

“Hey, baker girl,” he grins, his voice gravelly like he’s chain smoked all night, “got any sna- oh whoops!” he giggles madly as he loses his balance and tumbles sideways, catching the other door frame before he grabs onto your arms and almost manages to stand up straight.

“You might need coffee, not snacks,” you say, holding onto him to stop him from falling face forward into your apron.

“I’m fine,” he grins, pushing himself upright again but still holding on to the door frame, “I just came from this party, were you there?,” he asks, giving you another over the glasses look, this time clearly checking you out as his eyes drag up and down your form, lingering on your pink crocs.

“Actually, I would’ve remembered if you were there, love the crocs,” he chuckles.

“What’s wrong with my crocs?” you ask, slightly offended, “They’re great for people like me, you know, people who actually work on Thursdays.”

“No, no, I mean it, I love your crocs!” the man says, wide eyed and shoving his glasses up in his wild curls, “I have like ten crocs, one pair is pink too.”

He furrows his eyebrows, giving you a confused look, “Wait, it’s Thursday?”

“Yeah, five am, Thursday morning,” you say, wondering how to get rid of this disheveled man so that you can get back to the cookie dough.

“Fuck, oh fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck….” the man groans, bending double and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, “I’m so fucked…I thought it was Wednesday.”

He stands up again and you can’t help but feel sorry for him, he looks devastated.

“I was meant to fly out to San Antonio yesterday and take my nice to Six Flags for her birthday, and I fucking missed it!”

He slumps against the door frame and thumps the back of his head against it repeatedly, moaning, “I’m such a fuck up, I’m such a fuck up.”

“Hey, take it easy, I’m sure it’ll be fine, just apologize and take her another day,” you say, putting your hand on the man’s arm to stop him from giving himself a concussion in your bakery, “I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“You think?” he says, “I’m not the best at remembering birthdays, I may have missed a few in the past.”

“Well, then she’ll be mad at you, but all you can do is apologize right? And try to make it up to her as best you can.”

“Yeah…yeah…maybe you’re right, thanks baker girl.” He gives you a lopsided smile and you notice the smudges of dark eyeliner around his eyes, “How about those snacks? I’m fucking starving.”

You can’t help but laugh, the man’s a mess but somehow adorable at the same time with his wild hair and stained t-shirt.

“Sure, I’ll get you something, what do you like?”

“Do you have sausage rolls?” he asks, following you into the kitchen, “I fucking love sausage rolls.”

“What, like those things they made on the Great British Bake Off?” you reply, opening your walk in fridge to survey the snack options.

“Yeah, I did this movie once, in England, and there was a bakery next to my apartment and whenever I got back from a party, early morning, I’d knock on their back door and they’d sell me these fat sausage rolls, fresh from the oven, fucking amazing.”

“Sorry, no sausage rolls in this bakery,” you say, “but my cookies will be done soon, if you can wait.”

You turn back to the man and realize he’s wandering around the kitchen, sticking his nose in your bowls, sniffing loudly.

“Hey, don’t stick your finger in that,” you say, “Health and Safety are going to have my license if they catch you.”

“Sorry, I’ve just got the munchies, I’ve been high for like, two days,” he says, waving his arms around, “this place is torture for a high pers-OH! Do you know what I love?”

“No,” you sigh, exasperated, “I don’t know what you love.”

He completely misses your tone as he spins in a circle around the kitchen and you realize that he’s wearing what looks like very expensive pajama pants and no shoes, just socks.

“I love those…what do you call them, like…millionaire’s something?”

“Millionaire's shortbread?” you ask and he spins around to you with a big grin.

“Yes! Those! With like the chocolate and the peanut butter and they’re like the best Reese’s ever, only even more fucking amazing. Can you make those?” “I don’t know, maybe,” you begin and the man actually falls to his knees, shuffling over the floor to you.

“Please, I’ll do anything, I’m dying here, beautiful baker girl, make me happy!”

“Are you asking me to bake for you or proposing?” you laugh, this man is too ridiculous as he grins up at you.

“If you make them for me, I won’t marry you, but there are many other things I can do,” he says, pulling down his dark sunglasses from his head and winking at you from over the edge, his cheeky grin making it impossible to scowl at him.

“Fine, I’ll make them for you, just get up from my floor, please,” you say, reaching for his hand. He takes yours with a bright smile, kissing the back of it, before he stumbles to his feet and follows you over to your big workbench.

“I’m Dieter, by the way. Can I sit here?” he asks, pointing to the stool that stands next to the bench.

“Nice to meet you Dieter,” you say, “sure, go ahead, it’s got wheels on it though so be careful.”

“Awesome,” Dieter says and sits down, immediately speeding across the floor with a kick of his socked feet. He stops himself from crashing into the fridge door by grabbing on to the handle before he shoots off again, rolling all the way over to the open back door.

“Don’t fall out through the door please,” you call after him and you hear him giggle, a second later he comes spinning into the kitchen again.

“This thing is awesome, I need to buy one for my house.”

“Happy you’re enjoying yourself,” you laugh and walk to where yesterday’s bakes are stacked on trays. You’d made a layer of shortbread yesterday, you were planning on making lemon bars but Millionaire’s shortbread will work too. As you bring it over to your work station Dieter rolls past you and stops by the bench. “Can I help?” he asks, looking up at you, his sunglasses back in his messy hair. He’s kinda cute when you think about it, gorgeous brown eyes, and the smile he’s giving you is open and curious with an adorable dimple.

“Yeah, sure, you can be in charge of peanuts,” you say, walking over to the dry storage, “They need to be bashed into chunks with a rolling pin, something tells me that’s something you can probably handle.”

“That sounds fun, please, direct me,” he says, kicking himself over to the storage cupboard on the stool.

“Oops, sorry,” he giggles, grabbing hold of your hips to stop himself from crashing into the storage door, “I kicked too hard that time.”

“Go easy there, Dieter,” you laugh as he untangles himself from the stool and stands up. You get on your tiptoes to grab the peanuts and suddenly realize he’s still holding on to your hips, standing close behind you. You swear you feel his nose brush the side of your head, a quick inhale from him, and then he steps back, letting go.

“Peanuts?” he says, leaning past you and reaching up to grab the bag sitting just out of your reach. His arm brushes over yours and he’s suddenly very close again, his citrusy after shave, mingling with the heady sweet smoke of weed, fills your senses.

“Uhh…y-yeah,” you stutter, “thanks. And the dark chocolate if you can reach it.”

“Sure, this one?” he asks, grabbing the bag of Valrhona from the shelf. This time his chest is pressed against your back, you really should move out of his way, but he’s right behind you, almost pinning you in place, as he has to stretch to his full length to reach. And you find that you don’t mind at all, he’s warm and solid behind you, and this is more action than you’ve had in months.

“That’s the one, thanks,” you say, trying to keep your voice neutral.

Dieter brings it down to your level and you take it from him, expecting him to step back and give you room to go back to the work bench. But instead he stays right behind you, and this time you really do feel him bend down and brush his nose over your cheek, down to where your neck meets your shoulder.

“You smell delicious, like a cookie,” he mumbles and your heart literally skips a beat.

“Th-thanks,” you splutter and when Dieter steps back, letting you move, you avoid his eyes, feeling your cheeks burn.

“S-so the…umm…rolling pin is on that shelf there,” you say, pointing down to your right, “and there’s a measuring cup too, just…umm…just get a cup of peanuts, and put them in a plastic bag and bash away. Just wash your hands first.”

“Ok, I can do that,” he says with a grin and he walks behind you to the sink in the corner while you measure out the peanut butter into a sauce pan.

Dieter gets to work on the peanuts with great enthusiasm until you tell him they’re broken up enough.

“Just leave them there, you can come here and stir the peanut butter while I get the caramel ready,” you instruct him and he ambles over in just his socks.

“What happened to your shoes? If you don’t mind me asking,” you point at his stripey, multicolored socks.

“I’m not sure,” Dieter glances down at his feet, “I had shoes when I left home, I’m sure of it, but after that it gets a bit hazy.”

“You’ve really been partying since Tuesday?” you ask and he nods.

“Yeah, it was a good party so we just kinda kept going,” he grins, “there was a huge pool and we all went in. Actually, maybe that’s where I lost my shoes?”

“Maybe, you could go back and look for them?”

“And miss out on baking with a pretty baker girl? Never!” he chuckles and you’re not totally sure he’s being serious or not, but the grin he gives you makes you hope he is.

“I think this is melted,” he says, draggin the spoon through the silky smooth peanut butter, showing you the bowl.

“Yeah, that looks done. Just pass me that tray of shortbread and I’ll pour the caramel on top.”

“Can I lick the bowl?” he asks, looking over your shoulder as you let the thick golden liquid pool on top of the shortbread.

“I’m pretty good at scraping, there’s usually nothing left to lick,” you say, dragging the spatula around the edge.

“Can’t you be a bit sloppy, just for me?” Dieter grins, standing entirely too close, “It smells so good, I wanna taste it.”

This time he’s definitely flirting, the salacious smile on his face while he winks at you, makes you both roll your eyes and squash down butterflies on the inside.

“Fine, I’ll leave some for you,” you smile, looking back at the shortbread again and scraping out caramel, leaving the last of it on the spatula. Putting the bowl to the side, you hold out the spatula for him. But instead of taking it, he grabs hold of your hand, and licks the caramel off the spatula with a long swipe of his tongue. His eyes don’t leave yours and the whole thing is so over the top you burst out laughing.

“Jesus fucking Christ, tone it down maybe?” you snort, as he abruptly stops licking, letting go of your hand.

“What?” he blushes, “I saw it in this movie, it looked sexy.”

“Yeah, in a porno maybe!” you say, handing him the spatula, and only the spatula.

He takes it with a sheepish look, “Sorry, that usually works.”

“Not in this bakery, I have to work with that spatula when you’re gone, I can’t have it being used as a porno prop, Dieter.” You grab a new spatula from the holder on the counter and start smoothing out the caramel.

“You do smell good though,” Dieter says, still looking sheepish, “that wasn’t just a line.”

“Thanks,” you shoot him a quick smile, working over the caramel, “you smell good too, underneath all that weed funk.”

At this he grabs the front of his t-shirt and sniffs it, wrinkling his nose, “Yeah, it’s kinda obvious, huh.”

“Can’t believe you partied for forty-eight hours, I’d be dead on my feet,” you say, mixing the peanut butter into the caramel layer, sprinkling in some of the crushed peanuts, “Do you want coffee or something while we wait for this to set?”

“Fuck yes, coffee sounds amazing!” Dieter exclaims, dropping the spatula from his mouth, “And this stuff is amazing too, I’d eat a bowl of just this.”

“You’d die of a sugar rush if you did,” you laugh, sliding the tray into the large fridge and setting a timer on your phone, “C’mon, the coffee machine is out front.”

One of the advantages of being the sole owner of the bakery was that you got to decide what to skimp on, and what to splurge on. And the espresso machine was something you’d really splurged on. For a shop that mainly sold take out baked goods, it was way over the top, but it meant you always had great coffee on hand for your early mornings. The machine was already up and running, humming quietly as you started preparing two shots.

“How do you take it, Dieter?” you ask and he winks at you. “Anyway you wanna give it to me, baker girl,” he grins and when you sigh loudly, he laughs and holds up his hands in defense. “C’mon! I had to! You set it up perfectly!”

“How do you take your coffee?” you emphasis and glare at him, but your smile is breaking through and he gives you a playful poke as he comes up and stands next to the machine.

“Extra everything, cream, sugar, any of those coffee syrups if you have ‘em.”

“Why am I not surprised?” you smirk, “A guy who loves Millionaire’s Shortbread, of course he wants extra everything. I bet you’re lining up outside your local Starbucks the morning they start selling Pumpkin Spice.”

“I would never drink Starbucks!” he protests, “Fucking vile coffee and the worst of corporate America. But you can’t beat a good pumpkin spice if you’ve got quality coffee.”

“I’ve only got great coffee here, but no syrup, you want a latte? Double shot espresso?”

“Please,” he says, leaning against the counter next to the espresso machine as he looks over the front of your little shop, crossing his arms. You can’t help the glance up at his arms, the t-shirt hanging on for dear life as it clings to his biceps and broad shoulders. The many rings on his fingers look tiny on his large hands as he grips the outside of his arms, and you’re temporarily distracted by them, and his close proximity.

The hiss of the machine pulls you back to reality, coffee sputtering out of the spouts into the cup. You glance back up at Dieter and find him watching you with a crooked smile, a dimple in his cheek.

“What?” you say, looking back at the machine and begin to steam the milk.

“You really are beautiful,” he says, almost matter of factly, “especially when you zone out.”

“It’s early, and I’ve been up since two am, but thanks, I guess,” you reply, handing him the latte and pointing to the sugar bowl on the counter next to the till.

“I wasn’t trying to make a move or anything,” he says, sounding slightly hurt, “I just wanted to tell you I think you’re gorgeous.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you say, immediately regretting your tone, “I’m just not used to compliments I guess, I didn’t mean to sound so rude. I should’ve just said thanks,” you look over at him and give him a smile, “Thanks Dieter.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies, smiling back.

You knock out the used coffee grounds and fill it up again to make your own coffee. Dieter reaches over and grabs four sugar cubes and drops them in the latte, stirring while he watches you work. He’s watching you closely again and it makes your cheeks heat up. He’s got a strange energy of childish mayhem and intense magnetism, chaos that’s either going to make you laugh until your sides hurt or fuck you until you can’t walk straight for a week. And you’re not sure which one you want.

Your coffee done, you add a splash of milk and lean against the counter opposite Dieter, taking a careful sip. He’s wrapped both his large hands around the thick glass and is delicately licking the foam, drawing a pattern in it with his tongue. You watch him for a few seconds until he notices you and gives you a sheepish grin.

“What?” he asks, copying your tone from earlier.

“You really think I’m pretty?” you ask, the question slipping out before you have a chance to stop it, immediately regretting your filterless mouth.

But he gives you a disarming smile, “Gorgeous. Gorgeous baker girl that smells like cookies and caramel and chocolate.”

“You’re just high,” you can’t help but scoff at him, but he just shakes his head.

“No, not at all.”

He doesn’t say anything else, just looks at you, the silence stretching between you until you think something will have to snap and it’s probably going to be you.

The phone saves you, the timer going off just as you don’t think you can stand another second of his chocolate brown eyes looking at you like you’re the snack he’s been asking for.

“Thecaramelisset,” you rush out, breaking eye contact and hurrying back into the kitchen as if another second in the fridge would ruin the whole thing. Dieter comes in behind you at a slower pace, still drinking his coffee.

You pull out the tray and set it down on the workbench before turning on the burner under a saucepan of water, setting up a water bath.

“I’m just gonna melt this chocolate, and then I’ll spread it on top, it’ll set pretty quickly. And then it’s done.” You work quickly, too flustered to look at him and he hoovers just to your side, watching your movements.

The chocolate melts fast, you only need a thin layer, and then you pour it over the caramel. You scrape the bowl clean but leave a generous amount of chocolate on the spatula, giving it to Dieter.

“Don’t burn your mouth, it’s still warm”, you say when he takes it. He doesn’t grab your hand this time, but his fingertips brushes over yours as he nods, and it sends a sharp little jolt through you.

You turn back to the almost finished shortbread but can’t help glancing over at him. His pink tongue comes out and licks the chocolate, this time it’s not over the top, nothing provocative about it, he’s not even looking at you. But you swear you can feel every stroke of his tongue on your own skin, burning hot and wet.

You swallow and tear your eyes away, blindly reaching for the crushed peanuts, taking a handful and scattering it across the chocolate. The Millionaire’s Shortbread is done and you slide the tray back into the fridge, it only needs a few minutes. Dieter remains by the counter, finishing off the chocolate on the spatula as you start to clean up the kitchen and bring out the cookie dough that still needs to be taken care of. You see Dieters eyes widen as he sees the first scoop of dough land on the baking tray.

“Is that chocolate chip,” he almost whispers reverently, spatula forgotten, as he slowly comes over to stare down into the bowl.

“You want to try it? It’s double chocolate chip with browned butter.”

He makes a gurgling noise in the back of his throat, tilting his head back before he looks at you and nods, “Please, it smells so good.”

You grab a tasting spoon, giving him a generous scoop and watch with a smile as he puts it in his mouth. His eyes close of their own volition as he moans, far too enticingly, around the spoon.

“Oh my god…” he sighs, slowly chewing the dough, “This is like heaven, better than sex, better than fucking coke.”

“Knock yourself out,” you chuckle, “it’s not healthy but it’s sure as hell better for you than coke.”

“And sex?” he asks with a wink, still rolling the dough around his mouth.

“They’re probably on par, but this is tastier than cum.”

Dieter nearly chokes, coughing loudly as you giggle. Between repeated attempts at clearing his throat he points his finger at you accusingly, trying to grin between his coughing.

“You’re…” he coughs again, “You’re a dirty baker girl!” he finally manages, grinning widely as you go back to scooping dough, still giggling.

“I can’t believe I said that, but you did serve it up perfectly.”

“I did, but I never thought your mind was that filthy, I’m appalled” he laughs, placing a hand on his chest in a mock gesture of shock. “Better than cum huh? You have a lot of experience in that department?”

Now he’s winking again, poking to get more details out of you. So instead you take another tasting spoon, scoop up more dough and put it straight into his mouth to shut him up. It works, he grins around the spoon and smacks his lips at the taste.

“So fucking good, definitely better than cum,” he smirks, earning an eye roll from you. “Do you wanna taste it?”

“I’m good, I’ve already tasted the dough many times,” you reply, careful to specify that you’re talking about dough.

“Maybe not like this though,” Dieter says, suddenly bending down and pressing his lips against yours. It almost makes you jump, his soft lips against yours, his aftershave, it all envelops you in an instance. He’s not touching you anywhere else, just your lips, and you can’t taste him, his mouth is still closed. Maybe you should push him off, the thought flits through your mind for a split second. But you want to taste him, taste the cookie dough you know is delicious, mingled with him, so you part your lips, your tongue coming out.

Dieter lets a quiet groan slip out as he part his lips, letting you in, opening his mouth and tilting his head to come closer. You hear the spoon clatter to the floor as his hand comes up and cups your cheek, his big hand reaching behind your neck, another stifled groan from him. He tastes of sugar, coffee and chocolate, all flavors mingling into something enticing that pulls you closer.

There’s nothing delicate about this kiss now, you lick into his mouth, and he offers you all the space you want, holding you close and moaning softly as your tongues tangle.

“Touch my hair,” he mumbles, breathing into your mouth, “I want to feel your hands in my hair.”

“They’re all sticky, Dieter,” you protest but you feel him shake his head, his lips brushing over yours.

“I don’t care, touch me, hold me, I want to smell like you when I leave,” his tongue slips between your lips, and you run your hands through his hair. You can feel it sticking, tugging at his wild locks but he just groans, his hands holding you tighter and, encouraged, you let your own hands run across his body, eliciting another loud groan from him.

Tension is building between the two of you, he is growing hard against your belly, unmistakably turned on and doing nothing to hide it. You can feel heat radiating from your own core, so scorching he must feel it too through the thin fabric of his pajama pants. If this doesn’t stop soon he’ll have you bent over the workbench in a minute, and Health and Safety would definitely have something to say about that.

With a groan and tremendous effort, you put your hands on his chest and push him away. His lips chase yours for a few seconds, eyes closed, a protest coming from him, before he looks down at you with a sigh.

“You taste even better than you smell,” he says, not letting go of your cheek, his other hand still around your waist.

“The cookie dough goes really well with the coffee,” you reply, your mouth quirking up in a smile and he matches it, a dopey look on his face.

“Amazing,” he breathes, "you're amazing, baker girl.”

His adoration makes you tremble, you feel the heat in your cheeks, and he sees it, leaning into your lips. He stops and looks at you for a beat, to ask for your permission, and when you don’t pull away he presses a soft kiss to your warm mouth, so different from the hasty, heated kiss you just shared. This one lasts only for a few seconds, gentle, before he pulls back, his hand slowly trailing along your check.

“I should probably call for my ride,” he says softly, “it’ll take a while to get here.”

“Ok,” you nod, “the shortbread should be done too.”

“Ok,” he replies, but he doesn’t make a move to leave and you can’t seem to take your eyes off him.

“I really should…” he sighs, tracing his fingertips over your cheek again, “call that ride.”

“Go, do that, I’ll cut the shortbread, we can have some while we wait for your ride.” You lightly put your hand on his warm chest and push him away, smiling, but you really want to bunch your hand in the soft t-shirt and pull him closer.

“Ok,” he says, louder this time, as if making up his mind. He shoves his hand in his pocket, miraculously finding his phone intact as you bring the tray out of the fridge.

The whole thing has set into layers, so you take a sharp knife and start cutting rectangles, slipping them up and onto the tray that goes in your display case, some go into a take away box, two you put on a separate plate and then look around for Dieter, spotting his broad back out by the back door. Just as you come over to him he ends his call, turning around to you with a smile.

“My ride will be here in about twenty minutes,” he says, following you to the doorstep and sitting down. You sink down next to him, maybe a little bit closer than necessary, but he’s wide and takes up almost the whole door frame. Your cookie dough is still waiting for you, you’ll be playing catch up with your baking for the rest of the morning, but it’ll be worth it. This chaotic, disheveled man has made your morning a lot more exciting than usual and you’re a little bit sad to see him go.

“Here, what you came for,” you say, holding out the plate, and Dieter takes one of the Millionaire’s Shortbread.

“I can’t believe you made these just for me,” he grins and bites into it. You watch his face, this is your favorite part of baking, watching people when they taste the finished thing. And Dieter doesn’t disappoint, he groans, loudly, grabbing onto your arm and leaning his forehead against your shoulder, his whole body reacting to the flavors in his mouth as he chews.

“I Iive here now,” he moans, “I’m giving up my career, I’m going to live in your bakery and pay you to feed me for the rest of my life.” He lifts his head up and takes another big bite of the shortbread, groaning again as he looks at you, his eyebrows pulled together, big brown eyes pleading. “How is this so good?” he moans, his tongue coming out to catch an errant peanut crumb, “you’ve got to taste this.”

He holds up the last bite of the shortbread to you, and you open your mouth, letting him place it between your lips. You feel his fingers brush over them as he pulls back, his thumb coming up to swipe over your bottom lip.

“It’s really good, I’m pretty happy with this,” you say, trying to not chew with your mouth open as Dieter looks at you, his eyes on your lips.

“Do you want another one?” you ask, holding up the plate and Dieter nods fervently and groans again as he takes a bite.

“I can’t decide, this or sex, which is better,” he chuckles, and you nod. You know the cake is good, but you can’t help but wonder if sex with Dieter might not be even better.

You sit side by side in the early morning sunshine, eating the cakes. Dieter soon finishes his second one and cracks the lid on the take away box you’ve given him, sneaking a third one with a childish grin that makes you happy to see.

“Seriously, I live here now, I’m moving in tomorrow,” he mumbles, moaning between bites, leaning on you, his head on your shoulder.

“You do that Dieter, I might even let you lick the bowl once in a while,” you say, patting his messy hair.

“Lick the bowl or lick your bowl, baker girl?” he giggles and you give him a light smack, shaking your head.

“Enough with the porn jokes,” you scold him, no menace to your words, he can hear the smile in your voice and giggles again.

“Can I put my head in your lap?” he asks, “Nothing weird, I promise, I’m just really tired suddenly.”

“Ok, sure, but your ride should be here soon.”

“Yeah, I just wanna relax my eyes for a while….” Dieter yawns and slips down the stairs to sit on the last step, hooking his arm around your hips and putting his head on your lap. The warm weight of him on your legs is actually comforting, his arm a steady hold behind you. Without thinking about it you start carding your fingers through his hair, adding to the sticky mess, making it stand on end, but he doesn’t seem to mind. It takes him minutes to fall asleep, a low rumbling snore coming from him.

You keep stroking his head for a few more minutes before you carefully lift his head up and slip out from under him, letting his arm be his pillow. You need to go back to baking, your first customers will be arriving soon and you haven’t even put the cookies in the oven, you want them fresh and warm when the early morning commuters arrive.

Back in the kitchen you quickly scoop the rest of the dough on the trays and get them in the oven and start stocking the display case out front with what’s already done. You’re just sliding the last croissants into the tray when the opening hour strikes and you flip the sign on the front door. You’ve been listening out back for a car to pull up but you haven’t heard anything and once the morning rush starts, you’re swamped and a couple of hours pass before you even realize. When it finally calms down you wipe down the counter and clean your hands before checking out by the back door. It’s still open, but Dieter is gone, as is the take away box, not a trace of your chaotic, magnetic early morning visitor.

Hours later, as you’re about to close up for the day, a delivery van pulls up in front of the shop. A man in a uniform jumps out and comes rushing in with a box and an extravagant bouquet of flowers with a vase. “Delivery for you, miss,” he says, handing you a device to sign your name on, and then the flowers and the box.

“Thanks,” you say but the man is already halfway out the door.

The flowers fill the small shop with their scent, and you place them on the counter, next to the till, stopping to stick your nose into the white lilac and breathing deeply before getting the shop closed up.

You flip the sign and take the box into the kitchen, the back door is still open to let the warm spring air in. Sinking down on the stairs where you sat with Dieter just this morning, you open the box. It contains another box and inside that, a note. But there’s also a mouth watering, rich, smell of pastry and meat coming from the box. Intrigued, you open the lid, only to find a thermal container inside, like a small version of the ones used to keep delivery pizza warm. Inside are six fat, delicious looking sausages rolls. Your stomach gives a hungry grumble and you immediately grab one, laughing as you remember Dieter’s first request this morning; sausage rolls, like the ones he bought in England after party nights.

The sausage roll really is as delicious as it looks and you grab a second one before you pick up the note that came with them.

It's a double folded piece of paper, so thick it almost looks like part of a canvas. On the inside a note is scribbled in a looped, flowing handwriting.

“Next time I’m asking you on a date, baker girl /D”

Part Two

If you want to make Dieter's Millionaire's Shortbread, here's the recipe I used.

#dieter bravo #pedro pascal character fanfiction #a bakers dozen #pedro pascal #dieter bravo fluff #the bubble

257 notes · View notes

yallthemwitches · 6 days ago

Text

Chapter 7: Seventh Year

He closes his eyes again and takes a deep breath. Maybe it was unintentional, but his thumb gives a slow caress to her cheek. “I know I’m an idiot—I don’t deserve anything more than what you have already given me for the past six years— hell, I definitely don’t deserve the second chance back in fifth—but I want you to know, need you to really understand that I have been so foolishly in love with you since the moment I met you.”

Ah, the final chapter! Read under the cut or on AO3! 🥺

A single letter arrives the third day into summer: a drawing of a headstone in a billowing thunderstorm. There is no caption, but there is an epigraph:

Here lies James Fleamont Potter: willing killed by Lily Marie Evans

She sends his owl back empty handed.

The summer passes in a single grey blur: she goes to work at the corner pub, comes home, stares at the ceiling. It’s a monotonous hellscape of a life, but it’s still better than being back at school—facing him.

She doesn’t escape though, not totally. In her dreams he returns again and again. Many of them are just memories, though warped and made bizarre by the saturation of the light or blurry fuzz of the images. Others he shifts through the many versions of himself throughout the years as though searching for a frequency—his height, hair length, slope of his neck changing in milliseconds as he walks alongside her on some unknown path in the forest. She knows when the dream is about to end when the antlers begin to grow—slow and cumbersome from the top of his head.

“I’m still waiting.”

When not busy with work, her days are spent mostly convincing herself it was all just a fault in judgement. She didn’t ever actually fancy him, not truly. He had simply tricked her again, lulled her in with his beaming smile and warm, enveloping presence until a third year version of herself took hold. She does her best to wrap everything about him—his laugh, his smile, his smell— all into a little box to be shelved in the back of her brain and for a while, it works.

Never, never does she allow herself to think of the night before holiday, because she knows how easy it would be to relapse if she does— the rejected blankets on the cold stone floor, the soft buzz of weed in her veins, the warmth of his hands as they slide under her skirt, whimpers so soft they could have been the wind…

She keeps it all mostly at bay, until another letter arrives.

Due to your outstanding achievements in academic and social standings, your professors and I are pleased to offer you the prestigious position of Head Girl for the 1977-78 school year. Please find your badge attached and a list of duties required upon arriving in September.

It’s laughable how much she can read between the lines: It’s charity.

She isn’t a fool—Dumbledore might keep them sequestered within the walls of his fortress, but there was a war going on outside and it was finding its way through the cracks. She had to hand it to him—it was smart on his part. Dumbledore might continue to refuse a position in the ministry, but he was no stranger to politics. The end of the letter made that more than apparent:

Fellow Gryffindor, James Potter, will serve as Head Boy alongside you to share in the duties and expectations that come with the position. I highly recommend reaching out over the holidays to prepare for your upcoming posts. I look forward to working with you both in the next coming months.

Best Regards,

Albus Dumbledore

It produces an actual laugh, deep and hateful and cold. Of course he chose a pureblood, a boy with a quidditch pitch, a boy who fits in, a boy who will become something in this world because he is destined for it—and you, the token muggleborn. There was no better optics.

“What’s that?” Petunia scrunches her nose at the badge weighing heavy in her hand. She tosses it across the table, letting it skitter to a halt for her sister to see.

“It’s your dream come true—I’ve been promoted to head freak.”

Turns out one of the many duties of being ‘head freak’ was receiving an onslaught of correspondence that she is neither prepared nor willing to answer.

“ I just heard the news—James Potter??? Head Boy??? (Congrats by the way!)”

“It’s karma babe—Dumbledore is fucking with you, that or the universe is trying to tell you something….”

“EVANS. Everyone has gone nutter. Prongs is MIA—first mentally and now (as of an hour ago) physically. Seeing as you are his keeper now (see: Head Girl) I am not-so-kindly requesting you to FIX IT.”

“Fix it.” If only it were that easy.

“There’s a deer in the garden,” her dad says from the window. Lily looks up, leaving Sirius’ letter to lay open like a cadaver in her lap. Her dad pulls back the curtain further and a rush of sunlight pours in.

“Mighty rack on it too. Can’t say I’ve seen that kind of wildlife around here since the factory went in? Have you?”

It takes a second to register his words.

Rack meaning antlers. Growing, twisting, closing in—no, creating a cage. Protecting. Golden eyes piercing back.

“No, I haven’t.”

She doesn’t respond to anyone—folding up each parchment into one big lump of words. When she attempts to shove them in her pocket, she finds the space already occupied. A note from a lifetime ago.

“ I’ll always pick you!”

She stares into the eyes of flobberworm James on the page, half hoping it will animate and explain itself.

“No, you won’t.”

She goes to work, comes home, stares at the ceiling—but a letter from James never comes.The quaffle was in her court so it shouldn’t feel so much like a rejection, but it does. It twists deep in her stomach.

Nobody could ever love a freak like you.

She turns her eyes away from the ceiling and scans her bedroom. Letters litter the floor, some from the avalanche this morning, others from a past James she isn’t quite sure ever existed.

You’re being stupid. This isn’t about fancying him anymore. Grow up.

With much effort, she drags herself across the room to the table and pulls out a fresh piece of parchment.

Dear James Potter,

She stares at the page and a full minute passes.

How are you?

Congratulations on getting Head Boy.

I don’t know whether I want to strangle you or snog your face off or strangle MYSELF for wanting the latter so badly it hurts.

With a wave of frustration, she throws her pen down and pushes the parchment off the table to mingle with all the rest on the floor. Scrubbing her face, she reaches for a fresh parchment before freezing, her gaze shooting outside the window.

Devil’s Snare winds up her stomach and into her throat to cut off all air supply. She must be dreaming—going fucking nutter—there was no other bloody explanation for it.

James Potter is in the garden.

He doesn’t notice her and she doesn’t wait for him to look up, rushing out her bedroom and down the stairs. When she wrenches open the door the sound startles him, his eyes jumping up wide and bright. His hand instinctively runs through his hair and it hits her how long it’s been since she’s seen the tick. “I got over it,” he had shrugged one of their many days studying last year—back in the short period they called each other friends. “ You said you hated it, so I stopped.”

“Alright Evans?”

His eyes flit over her from head to toe, a small blush forming on his temples. It makes her very aware of the short, muggle dress she had thrown on that morning. A small half-smile threatens on his lips.

“Ah, muggle style wins again.”

The way he says it—low and tight, barely above a whisper—makes every stitch of common sense in her want to unwind.

The backdrop of Cokeworth and the smell of toiled earth does not mesh well with the world she has built around him for seven years. At school, it was easy to be guarded, stone walls giving way to stony dispositions, but here, among the dregs of her mum’s garden?

Her floodgates are open and the water is rising fast.

“How did you get here?”

She can hear how shaky her voice is, cold and hard in the summer warmth. If he notices, he ignores it—stuffing his hands into his pockets and turning his attention elsewhere.

“Lavender by the gate—it’s good luck, you know.” He nods his head over to the creaking metal fence in front of their house. Her mum had said the same thing back when her condition was just a big word on a piece of paper. How dare he know.

“We have a garden too but it’s only for potions ingredients—Dad insists on growing his own, the uptight sod,” James continues, averting his gaze. If she didn’t already know this dance of his, she would find it laughable. Here we go: his specialty. Deflect, joke, talk in circles. How predictable, how infuriatingly—”

“So, I’m sure you saw I was made Head Boy.”

—straight forward?

“I did,” she stutters, taken aback, “but I don’t see how that warrants a house call.”

“Well, you haven’t exactly been answering my letters.”

It hits hard and fast, stinging on impact. She had expected a lot of things from him when they would finally have to meet again, but pain and resentment on his part was not one of them.

“I’d hardly call some silly drawing a letter.”

“You used to.” His eyes narrow, steely and cold.

“Well, this time there was nothing to say, so drop it.”

She wants to sound sure of herself, but it comes out warped and cracked, like the records they used to listen to on the dorm room floor—like the one that played when…when…

No No No No. Don’t go there, never there…

“I think you should leave.”

It’s not the tears blurring her vision that make the words stick in her throat, but the look on his face as she says them. Pale and helpless and deliberately not James. The James she knows is a ball of light, an endless force of energy ringing laughter through the halls—not, some beaten boy standing in the polluted haze of the moon.

He scrubs his face, knocking his glasses askew.

“Please. I just need—”

“No.”

“ Merlin, I’m being serious I—”

“I said no. Goodbye Potter.” She twists on her feet and her heels dig into the soil, breath coming painful and shallow from her windpipe.

“I am going to decline the Head Position—I wanted you to hear it from me.”

It pierces sharp and hot into her heart. She spins back towards him to find him still frozen in place. Suddenly, the urge to run, wrap her arms around him and tell him to stay passes over her like a chill.

“Why.”

“Because I don’t deserve it.”

“Yeah, sure. A pureblood not deserving it .”

She can see the anger rise in his shoulders, his brow knitting into a tight line. Good, show me something Potter.

“What are you talking about? You of all people should know that—”

He stops abruptly, letting out an exasperated sigh. His steeled reserve drops.

“Look—Dumbledore is nutter for giving me this badge and we both know it. I’ve been a bloody nightmare to them for years—they could have picked anyone else, honestly anyone , and they would have made more sense.”

She snorts. “Never took you to be the self deprecating type.”

It awards her a joyless laugh.

“Sure you have—I’m the biggest wanker of them all. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?”

Anger twists in her veins, propelling her back towards him as though ready to strike. She waits for him to recoil, perhaps search for his wand, but he just watches her return, the ends of his untidy hair catching glints of moonlight and quickening her heart.

It’s not until she’s standing back in front of him that she notices something warm and damp pattering onto the skin of her folded arms. His face immediately softens and she can tell he wants to rush forward and wipe the tears from her cheeks, but he won’t and she won’t let him.

“ Lils,” he pleads, eyes dragging across her tear stained face, “I’m doing this for you.”

“Do not call me that,” she hisses, wiping her cheek impatiently, “You have no right. And don’t give me that, you have no idea what I want. I don’t care if you are bloody Head Boy or dead at the bottom of the lake at this point I—”

He lets out a strangled cry, turning away from her to clench at his hair. When he turns back, he wipes his eyes, a glassy sheen now coating his irises.

“You’re right, Evans,” he says, making no effort to smile. “I don’t know—so enlighten me. Tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

A jolt of electricity runs up her spine, threatening her nervous system to short circuit. How many times over the years had he said those words and when did he actually start meaning them?

All of them—every single bloody time.

It unlatches the box that kept the memories of him at bay and suddenly the images seep through like ink on a canvas. James past and present float through her vision like beautiful, wonderful, infuriating ghosts.

“Be Head Boy or don’t, I don’t care,” her voice breaks, a choking noise bubbling up. “—but stop playing all these games with me because…because I won’t be able to survive it—really Potter. I mean it. I know you are an arrogant prick and probably get your rocks off watching me wallow and make a fool of myself after you like I’m still bloody thirteen, but I’m not some plaything you can just toss around and take the piss whenever you—”

He closes the distance between them so fast, she hardly registers it, both hands cupping her face and demanding her attention.

“So it wasn’t the drugs. You meant to kiss me.”

The heat rises so fast it scorches her cheeks.

“I wish I had never done it.”

“But at the time—you wanted to.”

She wiggles under his hands but he doesn’t let her go, eyes wild and determined.

Vulnerable. She’s far too vulnerable.

“What does it matter?” She gasps, tears falling between his fingers, “Like I said, it's all one big game for you. The lads probably got into your head that it was a good idea to—what did they call it?—’pop your muggleborn cherry’ so you decided to entertain my pathetic little relapse and snog me just to say that—”

“Is that really what you think of me?” He cuts her off, nostrils flaring, “Lily, I don’t know what reality you are in but you’ve got this all wrong. I don’t know how I could have made myself any more clear…”

The memories boil over again—every moment he has ever shown her kindness or, god forbid, attraction being shrouded by some other, sinister inner voice.

“Well, you aren’t being clear!” She screams, finally wrenching his hands off her face. “One day you are giving me foot touches under the table, writing me little letters… and the next you recoil from me in your bloody bed !”

There’s a beat of silence, then James lets out a laugh so unhinged and feral she takes a step back.

“Fucking Hell, you are delusional.”

An insult sits at the top of her tongue but he keeps laughing, all of the tension in his shoulders melting away. He looks completely mad, keeled over with his hair tousled and glasses barely hanging on to his ears.

“Evans,” he pants, trying to catch his breath, “Me recoiling from you? That was out of self preservation.”

His words sink to the bottom of her stomach, setting off the flutter of a thousand little snitches.

“If you had even gotten close—pressed up against me even slightly— I would have made a fool of myself, you’d have felt me make a fool of myself. Merlin, I’m embarrassed just saying it.”

Oh. Oh. A flush streaks across her face and neck, trying her best to not linger on what it implies—

“Do you get it?” He gasps, finally righting himself and raking a hand through his hair, “Please don’t make me elaborate on the fickle anatomy of a teenage boy, Evans. I’m standing on your bloody doorstep…”

It’s not possible. He’s taking the piss…

Like aligning tiny intricate puzzle pieces, one clicks together with another.

“But Elodie…Slughorn's party—” she stammers, her whole inside churning, “I know she asked you—Christ, she asked me if she could…”

He looks as though he has been slapped, eyes wide and body leaning back. When he recovers, he speaks slowly.

“Lily…I went to Slughorn’s party looking for you.”

“Rubbish.”

“Fucking honest,” he stammers, eyes getting more bright by the syllable.

“Elodie did ask me, but I turned her down. I went because you had been so weird about wanting me to go in the library—” He cuts himself off, closing his eyes and taking a deep, shoulder clenching breath.

“—And yes, maybe I was hopeful that you had been trying to ask me…you know, just in a real bloody confusing kind of way.”

Another click of a piece, but instead of making it easier to decipher, it makes everything turn belly up. Years worth of interactions with him racing past her eyes, now at an angle she hadn’t considered before.

But you’re a muggleborn. A freak. No one could love you. Just a plaything to take the piss out of. The sirens begin in her head and they are deafening, making it hard to even think.

“James,” she murmurs, eyes stinging again, “It's too much. I think you should leave.”

Something flashes across his face and his eyes darken, jaw tightening in indignance.

“Sorry, but no. Not until you get it.”

He walks towards her, slow and somewhat unsure of himself. It’s a jarring visual—James being hesitant. Ever since she has met him, he has thrown himself into everything with such gusto and trust. Now, he steps deliberately, like dodging a thousand trip wires waiting to unlock a trap door.

She should run—rush back inside the house and slam the door, leaving the beautiful curve of his jaw, and the square of his shoulders and the moonlight in his hair out in the street. But by the time she is ready to dart, his hand reaches back up to her cheek, rooting her to the spot.

“I want to propose something to you but I need you to give me the floor again.” His words echo from fifth year, ringing as steady and warm as they did back in the forest.

“I want you to stop over thinking things—get out of that brilliant, freaky, fucking fantastic brain of yours and listen to me— and really listen because I don’t think I will be able to say it again—so will you humor me? Please?”

Another stab from the past. Just like in his dorm, he’s not asking, he’s begging. She doesn’t know what to say, feeling the heat of his hand and sharp stare of his eyes lulling her away like in a trance. Eventually, she feels herself nod.

He closes his eyes again and takes a deep breath. Maybe it was unintentional, but his thumb gives a slow caress to her cheek.

“I know I’m an idiot—I don’t deserve anything more than what you have already given me for the past six years— hell, I definitely don’t deserve the second chance back in fifth—but I want you to know, need you to really understand that I have been so foolishly in love with you since the moment I met you.”

There is no air. No sound. They are hovering untethered in a void.

“I didn’t really understand what the feeling was until probably fifth year—and even then I did an utter shite job showing you—but, again, I need you to know that there isn’t a day that passes where you aren’t on my mind, where just the thought of your hair or the color of your eyes or the way you hold a bloody quill doesn’t make me want to implode with a happiness that I certainly, certainly have no right to feel.”

It’s a sadness she has never seen on him before. One that cuts to the bone.

“If you still hate me and want nothing to do with me after this, I swear I will never bother you again, but I just really needed you to know—and it’s not a joke, not me trying to take the piss or play games with you like you constantly seem to think. I am obsessed with you and honestly at this point I wish you would just be cruel about it and go on and tell me to fuck off—”

She lurches forward on her toes, slotting his mouth against hers before he can continue to spiral any further. His lips move soft and warm just as she remembers and a small gasp of Lils drifts into the air. Unlike the time in the dorm, his hands move slow like drifting through water, down her neck and back, savoring each centimeter they drop until they wind around her waist to pull her in deeper. Only after the fact, maybe days or months later will she realize that all the noise and voices that usually plagued her brain have vanished. The silence is so delectable.

When they finally come up for air, it makes her laugh—a real, raw one that tilts her head back and cuts through the night. Eventually she realizes he had started to laugh too, pressing his forehead against hers and kissing the lingering vibration away.

“Merlin, your laugh,” he groans into the crook of her neck, pressing an impossibly large smile into her skin. “I’m addicted to it—how did it take you this long to understand I’m hopeless for you. Seriously, just take me out of my misery…”

It makes her laugh again, but this time he catches it, his lips sweeter than anything she could ever imagine.

“Don’t worry, I will.”

* * * * *

Of all her seven years of Hogwarts, she has never noticed how intimidating the double doors to the Great Hall are. Have they always been this big? This…terrifying?

“Evans— you’re doing it again. Let me in.”

She feels the press of warm and familiar lips into her cheek, lingering by her ear just to make her skin prickle like he knows it will. Arse.

“It’s going to be fine—dare I say, even brilliant.”

She snorts and he rewards her with another kiss to the neck—something she’s grown very fond of in their final stolen weeks of summer.

“Says the boy who is so chuffed about showing off he could die.”

James flashes her a smile, beaming from ear to ear. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he cradles her to his chest, leaning his chin in the crook of her neck.

“Give jabs all you want, Evans. I am chuffed—but hopefully I don’t die anytime soon because I have big plans for us…namely some that involve that comfy looking couch back in the Heads’ office…”

Heat rises to her cheeks and his smile grows wider than humanly possible.

“ Stop,” she groans, reaching up to tug at his hair, “We are seconds away from shepherding loads of first years to their common rooms…becoming role models… .You can’t be bringing up things like…like…”

“Hm, like what?” He wiggles his fingers against her stomach, making her squirm against him.

“Nevermind—you’re impossible,” she sighs, resigning herself. He continues to feather kisses up her neck, finding her pressure point and nuzzling his nose. She can’t even pretend she doesn’t like it.

“James?”

“Hm?”

“Tell me again how this year is going to go.”

He hums against her skin, then pulls up—eyes wide and shining and full of an adoration no one has ever shown her in her life.

“Well–” he tsks, holding her with both arms around the stomach and swaying her playfully.

“Upon walking through these doors I will swoop you into a romantic kiss and the whole school will cheer.”

“Alright, territorial. ”

“Then,” He continues ignoring her, “We will become the best Head Boy and Girl this school has ever seen: catch wannabe death eater pricks...dole out detentions...make use of our ability to stay out after curfew to snog….”

“Funny, that last one wasn’t on the duties sheet.”

He gives a small growl and she reaches up to give his chin a shake, kissing the bicep that wraps around her.

“Oh, it was definitely on there—and anyways, don’t hate me for trying to make up for lost time.”

She spins around, burrowing her hands into his hair and his response to it is blinding—her bright star that will never go out.

“Let's get through the welcome feast first,” she says, peppering his cheek with kisses. His arms tighten around her, a hum of satisfaction escaping his lips.

“Whatever you want, Evans.”

When they turn to enter, James’ face is still beaming and she wonders if he has broken the record for happiness. He reaches out and takes her hand, and she knows her eyes must be bright and brimming with a word that has hung on her lips all summer-love.

As the door opens she waits for an outpouring of thoughts, the chanting of mudblood…the gasp of her kind ever being associated with his…the sound of her sister’s voice or Severus’ or even just her own telling her that she will never never be good enough.

But she is enough. He thinks she’s enough. And with a squeeze of his hand, it all goes silent.

#jily #james potter #lily evans #jily fanfiction #seventh year #the finale!!!!#I can't believe its done #my writing #method acting

33 notes · View notes

gffa · 1 year ago

Text

I never meant to fall into this fandom, but seeing these really stunning pieces of characters in trench coats and got supremely curious. It took approximately two days to fall ass over teakettle into OMNISCIENT READER'S VIEWPOINT hell, because it has absolutely fascinating characters, interesting worldbuilding, a beautifully drawn webtoon, thoughtful plot elements on the nature of stories and the relationship with the audience and--most importantly--it has the kind of character dynamics you immediately want fic. I'm barely past chapter 40 and I was already spoiling myself for the overarching plot because I desperately needed post-canon fic that offered resolution, because everything was already so deliciously intense that I couldn't stand it! So, here I am, having a bunch of knock-out fic to go with the absolute god-tier art that's in the fandom and desperately trying to drag more of you into this with me because it's so good and I think you'd like it and I don't want to be throwing up feelings everywhere and not have you all understand how much these characters mean to me (especially the main character, he is such a skrunkly little asshole whomst I would die for!!!!) even after just forty chapters! Joinnnnn meeeee!!! (p.s. This is primarily a Joongdok recs set, but give me time and I'll love all the characters!)

OMNISCIENT READER'S VIEWPOINT - POST-CANON IS WHAT I'M REALLY HERE FOR: ✦ [Message from the Universe: Kim Dokja Must Die] by jarofclay, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja & kdj company, NSFW, post-canon spoilers, 27.2k Six months after returning to his original world-line, Kim Dokja almost dies (again). A tragicomedic Final Destination-esque story featuring one dreamer in distress, his personal hero and his rightfully anxious family. ✦ world's end rhapsody by wakerife, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja & han sooyoung & kdj company, post-canon spoilers, 11.6k another post-epilogue fic, wherein kim dokja may or may not need a bigger hospital bed ✦ Unburying Kim Dokja by stingerra, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja & kdj company, post-canon spoilers, 21.3k Kim Dokja is back and left to ponder such things like fitting in and making amends. None of this proves easy. He was dead for too long and it's common knowledge that resurrection is a lengthy process. Especially because Kim Dokja was someone who buried himself at the age of 15 and didn't hope for anyone to care. ✦ “You are loved,” said Yoo Jonghyuk. “This is a threat,” said Yoo Jonghyuk. by IceBreeze, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja & han sooyoung & kdj company, post-canon spoilers, 13.3k Kim Dokja doesn't really know when he began collecting time travellers like stray cats but it's not so bad, he guesses. He just wishes there was less crying. ✦ show me proof you hear my sound by grdenofavalon, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja & kdj company, post-canon spoilers, 30k Kim Dokja has two goals in his life: figure out why he can't recall anything from before that "apocalypse" everyone and their dog is traumatized from, and finally finish the renovations on his newly (if six years old could still be "new") purchased book-and-breakfast cafe. It's... a work in progress. But now he has a third goal — find out what Yoo "former-terrorist-turned-civil-worker" Joonghyuk wants from his life. Or maybe he just wants his life, to end it himself. Kim Dokja is starting to think that might be the case. ✦ The End Of A Story by mellllting, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja & kdj compnay, NSFW, post-canon spoilers, 22.8k Kim Dokja wakes up, and the most shocking part of all that has happened was probably finding out that Yoo Joonghyuk loves him. ✦ white house, white rock by beforedaybreaks, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja & kdj compnay, post-canon spoilers, 12.1k “Big family?” the grocery store clerk asks, as he makes his way to the front of the checkout line. The clerk motions toward Kim Dokja’s baskets. Kim Dokja laughs as he loads the ingredients onto the conveyer belt. “I guess you could say that.” After the Scenarios, Kim Dokja moves into a big house with everyone.

✦ unwind the world, is your nightmare gone? by Scribblurri, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja & kdj compnay, post-canon spoilers, 9.9k He learns of lots of things that these people say his older self has experienced in the apocalypse: kindness, companionship, strength, family, love, sacrifice; all things they say the older him has provided to them. (He's not sure he believes it.) ✦ Revelation by 1864_9158, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja & kdj compnay, post-canon spoilers, 2.1k Kim Dokja realizes he's in love with Yoo Jonghyuk a month after he wakes up. Post-Canon ✦ Will you share your soul with me? (Unzip your skin and let me have a see) by Maru_Chan, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja & kdj compnay, NSFW, post-canon spoilers, 19.9k Noticing my gaze, Yoo Joonghyuk looked up from where he was polishing his sword. “Kim Dokja, what do you want?" My eyes shifted back to the System Notification I had been making a valiant effort to ignore ever since it had appeared a few minutes ago. [I w■■t to b■■■ him ■■ half a■d ■■■■ him wi■■■ an inch ■f h■s ■■fe] Uhh... (Or: KDJ might read both books and minds, but he can't read the room to save his life.) ✦ you used to be my satellite by Karelyon, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja & kdj company, post-canon spoilers, 3.4k Yoo Joonghyuk in his first regression, with all his memories from the 0th round, meets one Kim Dokja. ✦ The Scars of Dreaming by Gotcocomilk, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja & kdj company, post-canon spoilers, 6.5k Or: two dreamers speak. Neither are monsters. ✦ today's prophecy: you will receive love (this is inevitable) by kdj_225, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja & kdj company, post-canon spoilers, 2.6k “Kim Dokja!” Han Sooyoung yells first. “What the hell is this, huh?!” “You’re asking me? I’m just as confused as you, Han Sooyoung.” “This is related to you, this—huh?” It seems she hadn’t fully read the status window before she barged into his room. Her eyes, initially squinted, turn wide when they read through the lit-up words on the floating window. With a growing smirk, she teases, “A kiss? You wanted a kiss?” ✦ the false last act by younglegends, kdj company, post-canon spoilers, 8.6k Living in a big house with everyone was convenient, most of the time. But there were other things that couldn’t be avoided. Or: The end. ✦ Pretty Fool by jokebear, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja, post-canon spoilers, 1.4k Kim Dokja is pretty. That was the undeniable, factual, and conclusive verdict Yoo Joonghyuk had reached after days of gazing at the other man. ✦ missing person report by lorilanda, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja & kdj company, post-canon spoilers, 9.7k Kim Dokja opens his arms. "Okay, okay." He takes a deep breath. "Okay. C'mere. Give me a hug." To his absolute horror, Yoo Joonghyuk actually does. Kim Dokja returns. ✦ you made a deal, you traded daffodils for a kingdom of ash and bone by venividivici, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja & kdj company, post-canon spoilers, 21k From infancy to adulthood, Kim Dokja has had a hard life. He copes.

OMNISCIENT READER'S VIEWPOINT - BUT I WILL HAPPILY TAKE MID-SCENARIOS FIC BECAUSE IT'S SUCH GOOD TROPE FODDER: ✦ Fire on Fire by alodienr, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja, NSFW, 2.7k "What are you doing?" He hissed in pain and shock and confusion. Their faces were dangerously close. He could see golden under the dark irises in front of him. The kind of golden that was warm, intimidating, and seemed to want to devour Kim Dokja at the same time. Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes glinted with longing, hunger and want. "Push me if you want me to stop." Yoo Joonghyuk stared right into Kim Dokja's eyes. There was a bit of gentleness in his tone. ✦ The Reader's Lost Hope by bobacrane, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja, read the tags, 5.2k Yoo Jonghyuk is thrown into the past right when teenage Kim Dokja makes an attempt on his own life. He must learn about the past of his companion in order to return home. ✦ Taking Action to Contain a Hopeless Squid by gayboy_advance, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja, 1.2k It started out innocent—just some minor actions to ensure the slippery man’s safety. Yoo Joonghyuk made sure to check on Kim Dokja every time before going to bed, specifically when the other was already sleeping soundly. He figured it would be less explaining if caught, as well as less likely that the man would up and leave once he had actually taken the time to fall asleep. Unfortunate or not, it was not enough to settle his worries as time progressed. ✦ proof of love by Maven_Fair, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja, NSFW, omegaverse, 3.6k “Yoo Jonghyuk,” a low rumble, “bad touch,” a soft huff of breath, teeth scraping, “ooh - ah, bad touch,” a tongue, softly caressing that sensitive bundle so slowly that he just wanted him to bite already - “VERY BAD TOUCH, YOO JONGHYUK - ” An indignant bite is the only response he gets. ✦ i crave death by exocara, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja, NSFW, 2.2k Kim Dokja would say that he had no idea how he got into this situation, but he would be lying. It wasn’t as if he wanted to be in this situation (except he did, it was his idea and he was the one who had to do the convincing) but Yoo Joonghyuk needed to be put in his place. Which was under him. Also with his dick up Kim Dokja’s ass, but that was neither here nor there. ✦ speak no evil by cvrely, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja, NSFW, 2.9k The same hands that encircled his throat at their meeting, held the blade that pierced his body during the Demon King selection, now hold onto him as if afraid to let go—what defenses does he have against Yoo Joonghyuk when he’s like this? What defense does he have against Yoo Joonghyuk at all? ✦ My Star by TeaFlowers, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja & secretive plotter/kim dokja, NSFW, 3.6k ⸢K im Dok ja th in ks: I wa nt him to cr ush me⸥ Shut up, I didn’t want this to happen. He weakly refuted. ⸢K im Dok ja is a li ar⸥ One of the Plotter’s gloved fingers tapped Kim Dokja’s cheek, bringing his attention back to him and his smug smile. The hand tilted Kim Dokja’s chin toward him as he murmured, “Thinking of others while I’m here? That’s not very polite of you Kim Dokja.” ✦ you got me starstruck by virotutis, yoo joonghyuk/kim doka & kdj company, 3.6k Kim Dokja is a man who has rather clear priorities after his favorite novel comes to life—unfortunately for his companions, informing them about his former idol career is not one of them.

OMNISCIENT READER'S VIEWPOINT - AND THEN MAYBE SOMETIMES THEY DESERVE A HAPPY ALTERNATE UNIVERSE: ✦ the tidal pain of wanting by aryelee, yoo joonghyuk/dim dokja, omegaverse, alternate universe, 14.7k “Kim Dokja.” The sound of his name makes his breath hitch. His eyes burn with oncoming tears. He hasn’t cried in front of another person in years. It’s mortifying. He doesn’t understand why the sound of his name from Yoo Joonghyuk’s mouth hurts him, why it hollows out the inside of his chest, why it aches with a loneliness he thought he got used to living with. “Kim Dokja, allow me to know you.” ✦ How To Be A Husband by cymbelione, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja & kdj company, 9.3k Being a good best friend involves comforting your friends when they're sad, eating their unwanted vegetables and remembering their birthdays. Last time Kim Dokja checked, the description didn't include "pretending to marry them". He'd think that he would recall that part. ✦ you can't skip the tutorial by cvrely, yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja, royalty dating sim au, 4.1k (Yoo Joonghyuk wakes up in a dating sim. It goes as well as expected.)

#lumi.txt #omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv #kim dokja #yoo joonghyuk #han sooyoung #joongdok #yoohankim #fic recs #orv fic recs #long post

196 notes · View notes

randomfoggytiger · 2 months ago

Note

I am having a hard time filling in the gaps. Are there more Emily's out there for Scully to find? We saw that there were clones of the man who said "they are our mothers". Could Emily really have just been only 1? Would all Emily's have been meant to die?

When Mulder found Scully's ova, were they being held in safekeeping so that they would not be used again for experimentation and were they already unviable when he took them?

EMILY SIM, FETUS SCULLY, AND THE EXTINCTION OF THE HYBRIDS

Hmmm, this is what I figure:

THE SYNDICATE IS ROBBED OF SCULLY'S DNA

When Mulder found (or was directed to) Scully's ova in Memento Mori, he reclaimed what the clones recovered from the Consortium. An important question emerges: we see other clones in tanks-- is that how these clones regenerate, or are they growing more of themselves? If they are growing more of themselves, then perhaps they were using the ova stored in that storage facility-- if so, then the ova were still functional; and the Syndicate might have salvaged and kept them when they obliterated the clones and any shred of evidence. If they weren't, then perhaps the ova were already contaminated via transfer. The latter doesn't make sense, since the clones had them on ice (and appeared to have the training to understand how to monitor and "care" for them.)

Are there more of Scully's ova that haven't been recovered? Unlikely: Melissa Scully interfered on her niece's behalf in A Christmas Carol; and likely would have done the same if Scully had had other children in danger... which would have happened after Dr. Calderon's experiments failed (to be discussed below.)

Why is this important? We later learn that Mulder had the ova he recovered tested during the cancer arc; and that they weren't viable (probably because they hung out in his pocket a few too many hours.) Yet, he stumbles across a Scully fetus, this one prepped and ready for womb transfer (more on that in a bit) in Emily. We know that couldn't have been created post Memento Mori because Mulder was given Scully's ova. So, that means the fetus was created and put on ice (or in an alien goop container) beforehand, ready to be used when it was "time." Why, and for what reason? And what does this mean for other Scully fetus potentialities?

ALIENS AND HYBRIDS AND CLONES-- OH, MY!

Emily Sim was born a few days before Scully's return (timeline here.) We've seen the method by which she was born in Emily: the babies are conceived in tubes, then transferred to baby pods-- a.k.a. older women in induced "beauty sleep" comas-- where they grow and are born in a month (or less.) This hybridization and quick conception-to-birth method seemed to create physiological instability in these hybrids as compared to pure clones; and their health had to be constantly monitored lest they deteriorated in a matter of days (hence, her weekly, perhaps daily, visits to Dr. Calderon.) But Emily (and presumed hybrids at large) were also more human, expressing her personality and fear on a multi-dimensional level. In a broader context, Scully's daughter was just another branch of the Consortium's inhumane experiments on their path to create superhumans: the Eves, the Sleepless soldiers, the End Game clones, the Memento Mori clones, and now the hybrid babies.

THE PROCESS OF CREATION

At the retirement home, Mulder discovered that all eight of the women living there gave birth to healthy children recently: all but one delivered a baby in 1994 (excepting a boy born in 1996.) He found six of the eight already prepped for "beauty sleep", and that another-- Anna Fugazzi, who gave birth to Emily Sim-- was waiting for Dr. Calderon's return to join them.

This, then, gives us a concrete date (June 1994-November 1994) to work off of; and an outlier year (1996) to factor in.

(As a side note: was Scully used as a baby pod, as well? I don't think so-- not only because she was extensively tested upon her return, mere days after Emily's birth, but also because the hybrid experiments followed a very strict regimen: older women pumped full of estrogen and progesterone were used as part of the process. Guinea pigs, too, for progress.

Further, we've already seen women in the exact position as Scully:

Mulder found them in Redux I's DOD, lying comatose on tables while being put through an array of tests. They, along with Scully and the other MUFON women, were part of the extract-and-dump group of return abductees that the Consortium considered to be lab rats: not "dignified" or "healthy" enough to carry their Project's offspring.)

THE DEATH OF THE CALDERON EXPERIMENTS

Back to the original question: are there more Emilys out there?

Emily Sim was carefully adopted out and closely monitored by Dr. Calderon himself-- she, and her kind, were his particular research, like "pure" alien babies were Dr. Parenti's (post here.) Mulder finds another Scully hybrid fetus in the retirement facility, but leaves it; and his attempts to investigate later are thwarted by a hasty cover-up. Both Calderon and his research-- unstable, sickly hybrids-- were probably deemed not only a risk, but a failure; and the Consortium likely stopped the experiments after they buried the evidence, i.e. the Eves (leaving them to rot in prison) the Sleepless soldiers (letting them run loose and kill each other), etc., etc., etc.

Here's what I figure: Calderon had a first round of "experiments" done around the time Scully was first abducted. The ova used before then facilitated clone or nefarious genetics research; however, he decided to take the alien DNA gifted to the Consortium and attempt to blend it equally with human DNA. The first batch included Emily; and he spent the next few years monitoring them to see if their conditions would improve or worsen. (In other words: what were their weaknesses and strengths? And how could their existence be used to fight back against the Colonists?) Canon points to the first batch being the only in existence because they were tied directly to Calderon's work, who oversaw them as his personal pet project. Secondly, I suspect more weren't being created until 1997: one boy was born in 1996 at the same facility, but it wasn't until Emily that the retirement women were being lined up for a "take two"; and it wasn't until A Christmas Carol that the doctor began pressing the Sims for more tests on their daughter (which led to Mrs. Sim's resistance, and their deaths.) Per the scientific method, the second group would need to have the same genetic material as the control group to accurately assess changes and results; hence, why Scully's fetus-- a backup from the first batch, most likely-- was carted in. And thirdly, all experiments were headed by Calderon: one man can only keep up with so much, even with the backing of a shadow government.

If we connect a few dots, it would seem Dr. Calderon was excited about this next transfer: he'd had three years, at least, to study and consider his past "mistakes"; and he wheeled in the valuable, irretrievable leftovers from round one (Scully's second fetus) to, hopefully, garner a second, greater success. His efforts were cut short by Scully and Mulder's arrival; and his life was cut short, as well, when his research became too great of a liability to the Project. And with Calderon's death, the rest of the hybrids would have died, too-- not only because they were directly tied to his work, but also because their life depended on his medical injections.

We never return to the hybrid possibility until Cassandra Spender; but because the rest of the mytharc is stuffed to the gills with clones and aliens and conspiracy, it's safe to conclude the powers-that-be only had a teeny, tiny fraction of successful hybrid clones, and that that faction is no longer drawing breath.

CONCLUSION

In short: even if there were other Scully babies out there, they would have been abandoned in favor of other more "successful" endeavors shortly after Dr. Calderon's death (in line with the Syndicate's other ruthlessly abandoned projects.) Without his supervision, there would be no more "tests", e.g. no more necessary, stabilizing injections. It's safe to assume the other hybrids, too, would have deteriorated and died within a matter of days (if that.)

A rather grim idea, this; but isn't that what makes the Consortium's evil so... evil?

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

#asks #anon #xf meta #Scully #Emily Sim #Mulder #S4 #Memento Mori #S5 #Emily #A Christmas Carol #thoughts #thanks for droppin in~#S8 #Per Manum #mine

41 notes · View notes

crystalartsandanimation · 3 months ago

Text

Hi!

Just wanted to make this post to share this information to anyone in the Animator vs. Animation community who may be confused about Chosen's birthday:

When Animator vs. Animation II (2) was first released in the Internet, the animation wasn't actually uploaded to YouTube - it was actually uploaded to atomfilms.com. At around 4:45 of the video, "The Story of Animator vs. Animation - 10 Year Anniversary," Alan Becker states that the second installment of Animator vs. Animation was released on November 4, 2006 on atomfilms.com, about six months after the very first installment came out. The video was uploaded a few months later to Newgrounds, specifically on March 15, 2007, then a couple months later after that time to YouTube, which was on May 14, 2007.

(Weird thing to note: I noticed in the description of the HQ version of Animator vs. Animation II Alan wrote that it was originally released on November 8, 2006. I'm assuming it might have been a mistake because stated video was released more than a year before the 10th anniversary video came out...)

So if anyone was wondering why we're celebrating Chosen's birthday today (or were celebrating, it's late at night where I'm at right now, so most of the world is past that date at this point), this is why. In a nutshell, Animator vs. Animation II (2) was released on:

atomfilms.com on November 4, 2006,

Newgrounds on March 15, 2007, and

YouTube on May 14, 2007.

However, as far as my experience goes, I did see some people celebrate his birthday on the latter two dates in addition to the former. I mean, nothing wrong with celebrating three times, right? Also because I don't think a lot of people know about his creation video being released on the first date listed, which is understandable. But if you somehow found this post, hey, you've learned a new fact today, and thus found another day to celebrate him! :)

That being said, happy birthday, Chosen! Sending nothing but positivity and happiness! 🖤

#alan becker #animator vs animation #ava the chosen one

25 notes · View notes

emilija04acer · 2 months ago

Text

Jayvik list (pt3)

This fandom writes amazing summaries, I am so jealous.

I'm sorry for not writing something more than just giving you a list but I can not save this post for some reason. I may update this post later and add my thoughts.

I’m sorry for the lack of links but I was unable to make them accessible. This app really didn’t want me to post this…

Luckily for me those writers did an amazing job and I don’t need to add anything.

I hope you enjoy it!

>♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️<

Children of the astra by Hadesboy

In this forsaken place of a world, Viktor had to find a place where he could keep himself safe, just like Jayce had to learn how to adapt in society. Because they would never fit, they carved their own place and that room was just that.

Vamp x Ware AU

It comes easy to me by AliceBlackwood

Jayce gradually comes to understand that he's falling for Viktor, while Viktor slowly realizes there's more to life than his past and his work.

198,440 words and still ongoing

Your Name by ObscuredByClouds

The first time Jayce wakes up in the body of a Zaunite teenager, he thinks it’s just a dream. A vivid dream, but a dream, nonetheless. When it happens again, he faces the fact that it is really happening. Sometimes he wakes up in a body that is not his own. And someone wakes up in his body in return.

Jayce quickly learns that he can communicate with the boy taking over his body by leaving notes, and little messages on his skin for him to find when they switch back.

Slowly, they get to know each other and fall in love as they live out the other’s life and find they have more in common than they would have thought, coming from opposing cities.

It isn’t until Jayce realizes they are living in different times, that he is faced with the challenge of saving the love of his life from a terrible fate that threatens to separate them forever.

Based on the movie: Your Name (2016)

Like it’s the First Time by isitcrow

Alternate Universe where hextech is never created due to Jayce not seeing the magic that saved him. Therefore, not getting the aspiration of creating it.

Instead he just becomes a normal scientist alongside Viktor.

That is until he has a weird dream about his lab partner and him in space together.

See You on the Flip Side by Twyrewolf

After an experiment gone wrong, Jayce finds himself with a version of his partner who he can't even begin to recognize... and Viktor is trapped in a different version of reality with a Jayce just as alien to him.

With My Calamitous Love And Insurmountable Grief by laliabriel

“Step away from the ledge, Jayce,” Viktor commands, his third hand powering down as he becomes desolate, merely a machine and nothing else.

But the runes in his crown are quivering, flashing multicolor lights that reflect at Jayce’s feet, as if trying to reach him, distraught.

“Stop this madness,” Jayce says, voice unwavering as he gestures behind himself to the horrors taking place at their feet. “Or I jump.”

Or: Jayce tries a different, more desperate approach to get Viktor back.

If it were anyone else by widowspeaker

Viktor seems a little off today, he looks even more exhausted than usual and keeps….snuffling? Will he ever possess the ability to rest unless he physically collapses??

4.5k fanfic about Jayce worrying over and looking after his stubborn lab partner.

You may be entitled to financial compensation by oncetherelivedaboy

They tell him he’s dying, that there is no cure or treatment, no options but to make him comfortable to try to treat the symptoms and pain, and then they keep him from his work for another week in the hospital. They have given him six months as the maximum, six months to get his affairs in order, six months to finish his life’s work.

Viktor wonders if it might be worth it to tell him, at least it’s unlikely the embarrassment will kill him before he drowns in his own blood. Only after a death sentence could he even consider it, but he also knows that Jayce might not come back at all if he were to tell him, that he might leave and that Viktor might not even be promised these final months with him. Better to have this, he thinks, the promise of this moment, than to risk losing it all for only a possibility of more.

***Please note that this fic was started before season 2 came out. I will continue updating this story after the airing of Season 2, however it was not outlined with the context of Season 2 and diverges heavily from it's events.***

Sympathetic Magic by wrylers

“Hextech was imminent; harnessing the power of the Arcane was so close he could taste it. Now the walls were blank besides the remnants of debris, schematics removed for evidence, and tables cleared of all number of tools and artifacts. Now all that was left was rubble and his shattered dreams.

The most glaring symbol of Jayce Talis’ ruin was the hole blasted in the side of the building, cool air wafting through. Jayce approached it and couldn’t bring himself to look at the ruddy stain on the ground as he stepped over the fallen beams. It wasn’t really his fault, it really wasn’t.”

This will mainly focus on the dynamic between Viktor and Jayce in an alternate universe where Hextech was never invented. There will be occasional snippets of other characters and happenings in Piltover/Zaun to pad out the world.

Absence by iksvolforb

“So sensitive,” Viktor ponders, his expression steeled with a layer of confidence and intrigue Jayce has only ever seen in the lab. An expression shown only when he was concentrating. Exposed only when he was invested. Available only when he was ready to do anything it took to find the solution.

Jayce has to stop his head from lulling back when Viktor suddenly drags his hand slowly down his chest.

---

or, Viktor doesn't show up to the lab and Jayce goes to check that he's ok.

Time Travel FIcs>

Anything to keep you safe by Anonymous

“Time heals all wounds…” she then said softly.

Jayce finally looked up, an idea sparking in his mind as he stared at her with an intensity that surprised even himself.

Time.

Maybe… just maybe… there was a way.

Or alternatively:

After the attack on the council Jayce loses Viktor in the explosion. Now back in time, a week before progress day, Jayce is determined to do anything to keep Viktor alive and save.

A Warning by themorningsun

"[...] Even so, Jayce more often than not still tries to persuade him by pretending to forget something in their lab and coming back not long after leaving just to try to make Viktor at least take a nap. For that reason — and also for the lack of sleep which made him not pay attention to what was happening outside the lab, not even the bright light that shone in the hallway behind him which he attributed to a broken lamp — he didn’t find it strange when the door behind him opened and Jayce spoke with a soft voice.

“Viktor?” He spoke quietly and if Viktor was paying more attention to him he would notice the slight desperation in it as well. [...]"

or: Season 2 Jayce goes back in time and meets season 1 Viktor and decides to warn him about the future instead of killing him (after being gay of course)

To Mend a Butterfly by allcapsbee

Jayce wakes up in an alternate universe. Viktor doesn't.

Dangerous Theories by Shattering

"Jayce would never hurt him, would have no reason to, so Viktor is not afraid. Even if he maybe should be, because clearly something is going on right now and perhaps he should rapidly figure out what in order to avoid the previously unforeseen circumstance of Jayce blowing his head off with Hextech."

When Jayce asks to be sent back, his broken mind ends up taking a little detour further into the past. Viktor, weary from tirelessly working on Hextech, has his sleep rudely interrupted.

Stitched Back Together, It Seems by ticketytockety

Viktor and Jayce have fallen asleep at the lab again. However, ever since Jayce woke up, he's only been acting strange and Viktor can't understand why. He looks the same. Sounds the same. What's his problem?

Sweet Fics>

knowledge (and all of its consequences) by Folie_a_duex

He’s familiar with the space Viktor takes up, standing next to him by the blackboard or sitting down at the tables. He knows how Viktor will shuffle underneath Jayce’s arm to correct a mistake in his maths, or rewrite a messy theory while Jayce prattles on about the next steps. He knows the surprising sturdiness of Viktor’s cane, as it smacks at his ankles when Jayce doesn’t make room fast enough.

Viktor is no stranger to Jayce.

~~~

This is just 23k of Jayce being hopelessly in love with Viktor. That's it. That's the fic.

Lean on me by Ben_Phantomhive

Viktor had let slip that all his treatments and mobility aids were becoming an economic problem, so Jayce takes it upon himself to build, at least, the brace needed for his leg.

Kiss me like one of your Zaun Boys by setbet

“They’re making out in the lab.”

“Yeah, they do that a lot.”

“But they’re not boyfriends?”

“We don’t talk about it.”

The first time Viktor kissed Jayce, it was a quick peck on the cheek, followed by a casual conversation. The next time it's on the lips, but then it's back to talk about formulas. Jayce concludes it must be a cultural thing, and also starts to kiss Viktor back. Everybody else is confused.

A story of two friends kissing each other, who are definitely not boyfriends.

Or Viktor uses Jace's lack of knowledge about the Undercity to kiss him.

Draw Me Like One of Your Piltie Girls by draconabraxas

Jayce never considered himself to be good at drawing, but he was determined to make himself good at drawing Viktor.

(based on the League client interactive game where they show Jayce’s journal and he has a doodle of Viktor in it)

I'm Dumbstruck When You're Tender by forest_roses

Jayce has always been this… casually affectionate, Viktor supposes? It started small, a hand on Viktor’s shoulder, a brush of fingers as Jayce takes a piece of chalk from him, and grew into full hugs or Jayce’s arm around Viktor. It’s not constant, but it is common, and Viktor does not know what to make of it.

Or, five times Jayce "unthinkingly" touches Viktor and two times he does it with purpose.

When the gears stop by Chicken_in_kfc

After Viktor collapses from the overwork in the lab, Jayce is forced to intervene. Together, they begin the slow process of recovery and rebuilding trust.

Stubborn by calamitoustide

Jayce saw it coming. No matter what Viktor argued, Jayce heard the sniffles coming from the other side of the lab, and how Viktor’s eyes began to softly drift closed while he tried to focus on reading. Viktor has been suppressing his coughs and telling Jayce he was hearing things when he thought to bring it up, then he’d stay late that night just to “prove” he was perfectly fine. Viktor might be very stubborn and refuse to admit he’s getting a cold, but Jayce saw it coming.

or Viktor is sick and absolutely refuses to admit it Jayce has his work made out for him to actually make sure he rests

Bridge of Progress by Macachist

An AU where Jayce and Viktor realize the importance of their friendship and partnership. A fic filled with gentle kisses, tenderness, and a love that expands all universes. Together, as always, in every universe.

Fun fics>

Viktor Vs Claw Machines by ElliHOT

Spite everyones knowing that claw machines are rigged against their favor, they continue to be the most profitable and popular with any person of any background.

This includes one brilliant mind of Viktor.

Pictures of you. (Who me?) by GlassCupid

Viktor was NOT snooping. He didn't do that. He was a distinguished scientist and renowned in his field. It's just that the deifying drawings in Jayce's lab book looked an awful lot like him.

AKA, biblically accurate Viktor makes fun of Jayce (It's his love language).

How was I supposed to know? by GlassCupid

Viktor is having a late night at the lab with a couple drinks until he swears he sees someone outside the window.

Please I just want to write funny little stories about them omg I love jayvik.

A Study In Love by oweenie (milkchonker)

When my fellow man wants to read some jealous Jayce, I provide. Might go somewhere more, might not, we shall see!

Who the hell is Mikhail? by Zelkumy

Jayce remembers when it all began, remembers when the ugly feeling of uneasiness and weariness and something more he couldn't quite place carved its way into his heart; remembers when Viktor started to come to the lab later and leave earlier, and it all came from the same cause, or in this case, the same name:

Mikhail.

or;

Viktor starts disappearing from the lab to spend time with someone mysterious named Mikhail. Jayce does not have a good feeling about it.

Santa Baby by blossombubble

For the first time in his life, Christmas sceptic Viktor finds himself wanting to sit on Santa’s lap.

Viktor never thought he’d meet his future husband cosplaying as Santa for charity.

envy, the mind killer by chicandcheesy

“Okay, you’re definitely jealous. Viktor, come on. Mel and I were just talking about council stuff—boring, political nonsense. You know that’s not my thing.”

“And yet,” Viktor says, raising a brow, “you seem to enjoy her company. Perhaps I should start wearing gold jewelry and speaking politics to get your attention.” He's not being serious of course, but presses on anyway. “It would suit me, no?”

“Well, you’d look pretty good in gold, but . . .”

“Do not test me, Jayce."

—

Viktor grows jealous of Mel and Jayce's friendship. Jayce is confused, but willing to show his loyalty.

The Defender and The Machine Herald by Jayvik_eheh

Jayce and Viktor- well, the Machine Herald; have scheduled fights every week. They don't WANT to fight each other but words aren't their strong suit and emotions need to be expressed. Besides it would be weird to be seen being nice to each other after slandering each other to everyone they know. They don't fight to kill of course, that would ruin the fun.

In other words; Jayce and Viktor fight and cuss each other out by day and write love letters they hide in boxes in their closets by night.

Hangovers And Heartstrings by serenityity

Jayce gets piss-drunk at an academy event and accidentally confesses his love for Viktor. (and Viktor has to take care of him)

__________________

“I’ll have you know, I’m just being polite. Networking, you know? It’s what keeps the lights on in our lab.”

Viktor’s smile deepened, his sharp gaze softening just slightly. “Ah, yes. Piltover’s golden boy, sacrificing himself for the greater good. Truly, you are a hero of the modern age.”

Jayce chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” Viktor replied, his tone almost playful, “you keep inviting me to these events.”

two chapters, first chapter angst, second chapter fluff thank you for reading jaybe or jaybe not.

Jayvik in a New world>

The Threshold by Harrowdeon

At first, there is only light, blue and blinding hot. This is the end, Jayce knows, even as the seconds stretch on and on and on. This is the end, and he will never know if what he has done has saved anybody except Viktor.

And maybe, in the end, that’s all that matters.

Or: The afterlife, and what it means to become one with the Arcane

when the war quiets down, strike up the band by phiresong

"Professor Talis!" A young man strides towards them, Academy-crest pin gleaming on his jacket. A student, then. Jayce raises his hand in greeting but the kid breezes right past him and stops a respectable distance from Viktor's chair.

"I tried to sign up for your class this semester, but the waitlist was miles long," the kid gushed, "I read your latest paper. It's brilliant! Is there any way--"

---

Viktor and Jayce end up in a new world. In the middle of their honeymoon. There's a lot to figure out.

Viktor s Lastname>

Counselor Talis' Husband [jayvik] by meiibo_sai

– And your companion is..? What 's your name, young man? – He pointed to the shorter one between the two of them. Only for a few centimeters, he would like to say in advance.

– It’s Viktor. – He responds in a monotonous tone.

– Just Viktor..? – The man friendly reaches him his hand.

– It’s Talis as well. – Jayce affirms, with that fucking smile on his lips.

Viktor’s eyes widened in a way that was impossible not to notice his shock. He felt his cheeks heating up instantly, even more when he heard that mischievous chuckle coming from him, delighted on how he had left his poor beloved lab partner.

– Y-yes, yes. V-Viktor Talis. Nice to meet you. – He shakes the man’s hand, trying not to appear nervous.

– Oh, you two are married? How beautiful! Young love sure is contagious. – The pompous man gave a friendly smile.

– Yes. We are married, yes. Isn’t that right, honey?

Jayce felt Viktor’s gaze burning him alive. He knew exactly what he meant. Maybe not with so vulgar words that he certainly wouldn’t say often, but his golden eyes clearly screamed a “you are so fucked up tonight”.

Viktor by afuneralpyre

In which Viktor doesn't have a last name, and Jayce fixes it. Somehow.

Is it gay to give your last name to your science partner?

Фамилия by russianxpunk

Viktor didn't tell Jayce his last name. Jayce needs one.

It was obvious to him, everyone has a last name, you're born with it. And yet, it was something he still had to discover about Viktor, one of the many things he still had to discover about him.

Viktor opens himself up to Jayce because a simple question doesn't have a simple answer, not with them.

Modern AU>

Sweater Weather by dreamersreality

Jayce Talis very nearly self-implodes after waking up from a wet dream. But instead of it being about the girl he’s already gone on two dates with, it’s about the boy in his AP physics class he’s one hundred percent sure hates him.

Lean on Me by dawnstruck

It’s been half a year now since his marriage to Mel fell apart and Jayce became a stay-at-home dad. A little less than that, since he offered Viktor the empty guest room, just to make juggling work and child-rearing overall easier.

It’s a question of convenience, really. Jayce gets to take care of his daughter, but he also has someone to watch her when he needs to run errands, to play with her next door while Jayce is in a conference call with their sponsors.

And if Mae gets a little confused about how many daddies she has… or if Jayce is in denial about what kind of partner he wants Viktor to be… Well. They’re going to figure it out eventually.

Explicit>

A Critical Zaunite Experience by Cherry_Sofa_729

“Yes, well- I am eager to leave.”

“Why?”

“If you must know- I plan to visit the undercity tonight.”

“Oh! Like meeting up with friends?”

“Not exactly. I am going to see a prostitute.”

Jayce spat out his coffee all over his papers.

Or: Jayce somehow ends up at a brothel with his work colleague. They quickly turn to much more than just work colleagues.

A Quick Proposition by pieckswoman

Viktor is shocked when Mel visits him in the middle of the night to talk about Jayce. Turns out, Viktor is in for a night of a lot of surprises (and realisations).

In the After by queercatfan

After waking up in a new reality, Jayce and Viktor must process their own survival.

Of Champagne and Unspoken Confessions by twobros_chillinginahottub

“Viktor,” he said firmly, placing a hand on his shoulder. That was enough to finally get the other to look up from his scattered papers. “Come with me. I want people to see the other half of HexTech.” He gave Viktor that small, damnably charming grin. “I want people to see my partner.”

Viktor’s stomach dropped. Excitement and hope were quickly stomped out by logic and reason. Business partner. They were business partners. Nothing more. But the idiotic fantasy was enough to weaken his resolve. “Fine,” he sighed, hiding his smile as the other whooped in his victory.

-----

The boys go to a councilor party. Viktor gets drunk and says more than he plans to. Featuring: Jayce being jealous. Also Viktor being jealous. They're both very jealous and gay and pining.

better than sex by illuila

“There appear to be some rumors floating around that you and I are more than just partners.”

Jayce’s face paled. “What kind of rumors?”

Viktor cocked his head. Something between a smile and a scowl tugged at his lips, “That we’re fucking, Jayce.”

these lower desires by acestyx

“Lying is futile…Jayce. I can see what you want.” Viktor dragged his hand down Jayce’s torso and he hated himself for arching into the touch. “…what you need.”

Jayce panted, nostrils flaring. “I don’t—I’m not—” The hand trailing down his body skirted across his stomach and Jayce sucked in a breath.

Viktor’s eyebrows drew together, his face twisting into almost a frown. “This want. These…lower desires. I no longer have need for.”

“However,” Viktor pushed his palm into Jayce’s crotch. A pitiful whimper fell from his lips. His face burned. His legs shook, on fire. Everything was so warm. Only Viktor surrounded him. “It would be cruel of me…to leave you like this.”

A more...erotic rewrite of the Jayvik fight scene in S2 Episode 8 bc what was that Arcane writers-

The Harald and the Defender by sc0rpiflow3r

“You’ve always wanted to cure what you thought were weaknesses. Your leg. Your disease. But you were never broken, Viktor. There is beauty in imperfection. They made you who you are. An inseparable piece of everything, I admired about you.”

Two brilliant minds, one dream, and a war that tore them apart. Worry not, this is a love story.

you got me feelin' hella good by kanedasbike

Jayce needs to unwind, away from the madding crowd that are his coworkers. He goes to the one colleague he trusts most to seek out some good, under-the-radar nightlife.

(AKA: Viktor plots on Jayce, who sees the trap and runs right in. Then they deal with what comes after.)

Patience by GenGonGinGun

Viktor leaned back on his hands. He gave an appraising look at his work. The collar sat tight around Jayce’s neck, white and red in Talis colours, the only piece of fabric covering the top half of his body. His formal trousers remained in place, and Viktor’s eyes lingered for a moment over the tent that had formed within them. Maybe later he would let Jayce fuck him stupid, but for now he had plans.

(Or, Jayce is desperate for a taste, and Viktor is mean.)

the afterglow of us by parrylarry

Viktor expected to be torn apart and killed as he and Jayce disappeared into the white hot light of the cosmos. Instead, he finds himself alive, in a new dimension where he can start fresh, with Jayce by his side. For the first time, Viktor comes to truly understand what it feels like to be loved and cherished by Jayce. They now have an eternity together to explore this newly intimate side of their relationship, that has long since shifted from just partners to... Something else, and something lovely.

more than a symbol of the house by mothergrub

He's built like a brick house, a solid wall of muscle from foraging his own ideas by a fire. He is tan, full of the sun in his skin, in his eyes, in his teeth, even his fingernails–

Ah.

Viktor loves to watch Jayce work.

Delaying the Inevitable by akirakiraki

Viktor extends his hand, not to harm, but as a welcoming gesture. As if to ask Jayce to take it.

"I wish to show you the limits of your flesh. The feebleness of all that you experience. To drive my way into you and control your senses, bodily. So that when we are one, when you join me in the vast sea of consciousness, I can pry it from your memories - our memories - and show you the strength of what awaits you by contrast."

Jayce squints, more confused than accusatory.

“You want to torture me?”

"Worse."

Before Jayce joins the Glorious Evolution, Viktor offers him an ultimatum. Jayce accepts, hoping to delay the inevitable.

Not for any other reason.

Like Real People Do by EmpressKink

He tugged at the soft blanket around his shoulders, gathering it in his lap and burying his face in the fabric. It was cruel that he could still smell Jayce’s cologne on the blanket mixed with the ashy scent of the forge that must’ve been stuck to his clothes, and deeper underneath it all, that distinct musky scent that was just Jayce. Viktor could pick every note distinctly. Green tea leaves, burnt cocoa, and sweet cherries.

or:

Viktor misses Jayce after having left him, so he goes to visit him in the lab in middle of the night and things escalate.

#arcane fanfic #arcane #Jarvik #jayvik fanfic #fanfic list #fanfiction recommendation #time travel fix it

21 notes · View notes

syn4k · 9 months ago

Note

hello!!! as you are the resident miante person in mcyt (there might be another one but in my opinion it's you) I have a question: if I wanted to watch mianite how would I go about that/where do I find it? I know it's a youtube thing but I don't know which channel it's actually on and I am. Extremely Curious about it & want to watch it but I have no idea where to do that /genuine question

(also, I know it's got multiple POVs, is there anyone you'd recommend I start with?)

hello! thanks for the ask!

mianite has four main POVs that remain in VOD and episode form on the creators' channels, they all have a playlist for it and you can find them pretty easily by looking up "[creator name] mianite s1" on youtube.

i recommend starting off with jordan captainsparklez' POV like we did, as he is involved in mostly everything in both s1 and s2 and his episodes are edited down to only really have the important bits. if you decide to watch back through the series later from another perspective, tom syndicate's POV is another good one to watch as he's kind of on the opposite side of everything happening in s1 and it puts a lot of his actions in context that jordan left out of his episodes.

if you don't want to watch through the series in its entirety (which is completely understandable), fern @voidandradiance has made a playlist of the important lore moments in both mianite s1 and s2 that she'd be happy to share :]

also it's really funny to me that we are the resident Mianite Guy to you when we've only been here for like, six months. this series turns ten years old today and there are people in this fandom who have been here since the beginning of it or at least who have been here for way, way longer than we have.

if you do end up sticking around here, i cannot recommend these people enough:

@kiwibirdlafayette - AMAZING artist who has been here in the trenches here since 2014. syndisparklez enthusiast. his art-only blog is @grailknightmonty and he also posts Hermitcraft stuff occasionally :3

@transandor chase my good friend chase!! resident Jordan Captainsparklez Guy. brilliant writer, also happens to be fistfighting The Horrors, you know how it his

@voidandradiance i already tagged him before and i'll fuckin do it again because this bitch's writing is stunning beyond words and xyr brain is HUGE. if you like the style of the stuff we write, you'll LOVE fern's work. its so beautiful that i physically cannot overhype it. its so good, y'all. its so fucking good.

@syndianites is, as far as we're concerned, the mouth of god himself when it comes to Tom Syndicate SynHD. there is nobody on this site who understands this character better than she does. they consistently leave the most galaxy brain objectively correct tags about him on our posts and she never fucking misses. this bitch Gets It and i am very lucky to be her friend

@coolcattime's blog is more of a general purpose one, like ours is, but she carries the f/f ships in the Mianite fandom and is also a great writer! she's written a lot of neat AU ideas and although we haven't talked with her much she definitely lives up to her url- she's one cool cat :]

@cactusprisms is also someone that we see around a lot in the notes of our mianite posts, although we unfortunately havent talked much. also more of a general purpose blog but worth following anyways. shes vibing.

hope this helps! <3

#ray's tag #answered #mcyt #mianite #also this is fantastic timing. HAPPY TEN YEARS OF THIS FUCKING SERVER EVERYBODY WOOOOOO WE ARE GOING TO IGNORE THE FACT THAT WE SHOWED UP #TO RHE PARTY SO GODDAMNED LATE YEAH WOOOOOOOO

50 notes · View notes

spectrechosts · 4 months ago

Text

Desperado

I want to be done reuploading and all I have left is shorter stories I haven't touched in forever which means shit is getting CONDENSED into single posts so I can have all this done by Halloween.

This one is about an anxious pilot and her friend who definitely isn't a pirate. 3 chapters.

Selene sighed.

"Okay," She said, "Do you really want to know why this keeps happening? Because you're not going to like it."

Luna nodded, meekly.

"It's the hat."

"What?" She squeaked, half baffled half offended.

"Literally nobody doing reputable things in space does so wearing a cowboy hat. It's- I don't even know how to explain this to you in a way that shouldn't already be apparent."

"But I like my hat!"

"I know."

"You can't judge someone based on a hat!"

"I don't know what you want me to say. It's like one step removed from wearing an actual pirate hat in terms of accessories that say you are doing piracy."

"You cannot assume that from a hat."

"It's the hat and the fact that, to an outside observer, your tendency to avoid people because you're shy looks like you have a whole 'mysterious dark stranger in a tavern' vibe going on."

"But-"

"I told you you weren't gonna like it." Selene said, and finished her beer. "Now tell me what you got roped into so I can get you out of it."

"I-I think they're loading black market organs onto my ship."

"Jesus christ."

"I'm sorry."

"Luna, you can keep the hat. It makes you look cute. But, for the love of god, you have to get better at saying no to people."

~~~

"C-Can you please go faster? I have deadlines, and-"

The customs officer glared at Luna, and she withered. They carefully inspected every inch of her cargo hold, opening shipments, checking for hidden panels, scanning for traces of contraband.

"What's her deal?" Another customs officer asked Selene, who was watching the scene unfold.

"Oh, you know how it is." She shrugged. "Jumpy pilot gets singled out at a checkpoint for being suspicious, that makes them more jumpy the next time, and round and round it goes. She's been flagged down for inspection six times this month."

"Heh, poor kid."

"Poor me having to wait through all this. I could be on Mars by now if I didn't have a soft spot for doe-eyed idiots."

"Mm. Well, speaking of inspections, your ship's been randomly flagged for a search."

Selene narrowed her eyes.

"That seems to happen quite often when you're on shift."

"Hey, I just do what the system tells me." The officer said, putting his hands in the air. "Think of it as lucky that they show up on my watch, and not somebody less understanding."

"Fine." Selene huffed, and slipped him a credit chip.

"Well, looks like everything checked out clean. I'll get outta your hair."

Selene folded her arms and waited for Luna to finally be cleared to leave.

"I'm sorry!" She cried over comms as they took off again. "I just get so nervous!"

"It's okay, Luna. You're not doing anything wrong."

"I don't know why I get so worried about being searched. I'm not a pirate, I don't even know any pirates!"

Selene smiled.

She'd tell her eventually, if things between them got serious.

~~~

"S-So that's my cargo manifest, and as you can see everything is in order."

Luna was sweating bullets. She didn't know what it was about inspections, but just the idea that she might have accidentally messed something up and go to jail for it made her queasy.

"Ah, I don't need to read all that, girl. Just show me what you're hauling and we'll talk about what you're going to do with it, okay?"

The inspector clapped her on the back, and she squeaked. "Um. Okay?"

"Good girl."

This inspector was weird. She was very nice, but everything she said sounded scary somehow. It kind of reminded her of that one time Selene had gotten drunk while they were docked at Neptune and said some incredibly salacious things to her in a similar tone of voice before passing out at their table.

That… Wasn't a memory she needed right now. She was flustered enough.

"So um, this section is all iron ore, containers one through twenty-six."

"How wonderful. Next."

"Then these ones, twenty-seven through thirty-one, these are all, um, industrial air filters. It's- It's mostly all just stuff for the refinery." Luna explained.

"Okay, I think there's been a misunderstanding here." The inspector said, putting her arm around Luna's shoulder.

"O-Oh. I'm sorry?"

"It's okay, pretty girl. I was unclear. I want you to show me the good stuff, yeah?"

"The… Good stuff?" Pretty girl???

"The secret stuff, babygirl. The illegal stuff."

Luna went pale.

"Nonono, I-I don't have-" She babbled, and the inspector's face fell.

"Ohh, babygirl, I don't like being lied to." She said. Her sly smile was gone, her relaxed posture replaced with that of a predator looming over her prey.

"I'm- I'm not-" Luna said, backing away.

"Do you know what happens to people who lie to me?"

Luna backed into the side of a shipping container, and the inspector slammed an open palm next to her head. She flinched at the impact, tears welling in her eyes.

"They… Go to jail?"

The inspector's ominous appearance cracked, a smile showing through. "They- What?"

She giggled. She laughed at her and Luna's face burned and she didn't understand what was going on.

"You- You still think-" The inspector struggled to speak between fits of laughter. "Oh, oh I had heard Selene liked to play house with easy marks, but holy shit girl you're like, actually stupid."

That made Luna mad. Was she too trusting? Maybe. Was she bad at social situations? Sure. But she was not stupid, and she did not like being laughed at, and she definitely didn't like how this girl talked about Selene. She balled her hands into trembling fists.

"Whew, okay, let's do this from the top, with no subtlety so you can follow- ghlk!"

Luna punched the fake inspector in her stupid throat and tackled her to the ground, raining blows upon her arms as she attempted to guard her face.

Luna was released from the security office after a few hours. The cameras corroborated that the now very bruised woman in the other holding cell had been posing as a customs officer to gain access to her ship.

Selene was waiting for her when she got out, and swept her into her arms.

"I'm sorry," She said, "This is my fault, I-I haven't been honest with you."

"You're a pirate." Luna grumbled.

"Yeah. I'm sorry."

"Do you know her?"

"…Yeah. She's my ex."

"Then is what she said true?" Luna sniffled. "Are you just, playing house with me? Because I'm gullible?"

"No!"

"If-If I find out you're lying to me, I'll never forgive you."

"No, Luna, I was going to tell you everything, I swear."

"Okay." Luna said. "I believe you." She wiped her tears away with her sleeve. "So… That's the kind of girl you're into?"

"Not for a long time now. Too much trouble."

"What kind of girl are you into then?"

"…Okay," Selene said, blushing a little. "There is one other thing I need to tell you, while I'm spilling my secrets-"

#Spectre Writes

18 notes · View notes

fuck-customers · 11 months ago

Note

So I have gotten a new job with slightly higher pay but full benefits (yay!) and it reminded me of something that happened while I was bellyaching about how I wasn’t hearing back from jobs while at work one day. Keep in mind, I had been applying for a new job since February of 2023 and I’m JUST NOW getting a new job that isn’t even in the field of what I went to school for.

The reason why I wanted a new job is because a) my boss wasn’t going to pay me more than $14.50 an hour, which no big deal I could theoretically make it on that, but I have basically $860 in monthly bills and that leaves me very little to keep stashed for emergencies or save up to buy a house and b) no benefits, no career growth opportunities, only one week of paid time off for an entire year with no accrual. The man deadass said that if I wanted to be paid more to go work for fast food (because around here they are starting fast food workers at $15.00 an hour with some benefits) then got butthurt whenever he learned I was actually genuinely looking for another job.

One day I was talking about how I hadn’t heard from a job I was very interested in when one of our annoying regulars (one who works at a museum, and claims to be a graphic designer but honestly doesn’t do real good work and makes my manager do most of the design work and claims it as her own - not to mention sticks her nose in everyone’s business and wants you to drop everything to do her stuff for her) overheard me and decided that she had a wonderful suggestion for me: “Why don’t you come volunteer at the museum?”

I responded: “What’s the starting pay?”

“Well, there’s not really any pay - we’re looking for volunteers mostly. There might be a chance you’ll get paid minimum wage but it’s every so often.”

“So, you want me to leave a job where I am guaranteed to get paid $14.50 an hour, to come volunteer at a museum where there is maybe a possibility I would get paid $7.25 ‘every so often’.”

I’m fairly certain I embarrassed her by saying that because she stared at me for a moment before trying to talk about something else but I continued badgering her just because I was so fed up with her at this point, “What about me saying ‘I wish this job that would be $18 with benefits would get back with me!’ translates to ‘Let me try to pitch this full time volunteer opportunity!’? I understand y’all need help just as much as the next business, but unless your boss is going to give me what I’m looking for I’m not going to come spend forty hours a week just volunteering somewhere for practically free whenever I want to make sure I can make rent.”

Y’all she left and didn’t come back for almost six months after that. She just recently started showing up regularly again and she’s still working for the museum - and complaining about how she doesn’t get paid what she’s worth for what she’s doing. Makes me wonder how she’s able to make ends meet if even she supposedly only gets paid minimum wage “every so often.”

Posted by admin Rodney.

50 notes · View notes

soullessjack · 5 months ago

Text

i don’t think there’s anything new I can add to the performative-jack studies because it’s like..very cut and dry, guy who’s constantly perceived as a threat does his best to seem innocuous and friendly..but there is an underlying layer of exactly how jack tries to present himself to others (that I’ve definitely already posted about but whatever).

soo like. take this outline for example:

Jack: “He still has to be killed.” Cas: “Doing that might kill Dean as well, so [I] doubt any of [us] would be willing to do that.” Jack: “I would.”

‘Cas is a little shocked by how calmly Jack says this, and Jack says he knows what Cas is thinking; that this is Lucifer’s gene pool talking. It’s not. “I’m not my father. I’m not my mother. I’m me.”

“You’re all so focused on saving Dean, but Dean is Michael’s vessel. There’s a good chance Dean isn’t even alive. Is Jimmy Novak still alive?* Could anyone save him? It’s Michael. And Michael has to die.” ‘Cas stares at Jack, who looks coldly collected.

post-war jack is straight up traumatized and jaded by everything he’s seen and experienced in apocalypse world, still making efforts to be kind and sympathetic of course, but with a bit more edge to him now. for six months he’s been fixated on killing Michael, and he’s way more willing to do the Hard Thing (kill Dean) than he might’ve been before to do so (which actually reminds me a LOT of the chicken/snake story from ouroboros but we won’t get off subject).

obviously he still cares about/loves Dean, we’ve seen that in the rest of S14, but he’s also seen what Michael did to another world and wouldn’t put anything before preventing that. *he’s also very willing to hit Cas where it hurts with the Jimmy comment

but the thing that sticks out is Castiel immediately assuming that Jack’s calm, cold collectedness in the way he talks about killing Dean/Michael is somehow evidence of Lucifer’s influence or heritage; that Jack couldn’t possibly feel this way by himself. even Jack refutes it, stating that he’s neither of his parents (ie, it’s his own decision to kill Dean if it’s necessary). I think it’s also interesting he mentioned not being his mother, because I think that’s why Cas is so surprised by his demeanor and jumps to attribute it to Lucifer.

from day one Kelly’s heritage was the only argument Sam and Cas had against the idea that Jack would be evil. to be fair, Jack does take after Kelly a lot; he even looks like her to some extent. but treating Kelly’s heritage as the It-factor that makes Jack good, treating him as basically an extension of Kelly who must be good and kind because she was good and kind (literally an inverse of how Lucifer’s heritage is treated) is still just dehumanizing.

the distrust he faces is understandable coming from AU Bobby and people who are being actually displaced and exterminated by Michael, but the fact that Jack is subject to the same scrutiny from his own chosen father as well adds to why he represses these parts of himself so much, why he puts on that naive nuclear-son personality and basically butters everyone up all the time.

I think the only times when Jack has actually unmasked himself were at points of extreme low empathy, because most of the time his facade is put on for the sake of other people and the fear they feel towards him. he obviously wouldn’t have to worry about that while he’s human, but like I said, he’s literally a war veteran/criminal by this point. he’s gonna have a little more edge to him than before, and a little less empathy for the small things.

the second and probbaly more obvious one is his behavior while soulless, completely lacking the empathy required to care about keeping up his facade—so much so that he just bluntly tells Mary that he’s annoyed by everyone eggshell-walking around him like he’s a time bomb again. then, *checks script* like a flip switched, he goes back to that facade and reassures Mary that he knows they’re doing it out of love. He’s blatantly performing his emotional responses now.

jack is still soulless for like…three (?) episodes in S15, and still incapable of really feeling any emotion despite being able to logically process them. like he is literally so empty inside that he resorts to binge eating to feel some kind of sensation. but he’s consistently playing up the happy-go-lucky shtick when he isn’t just depressed and withdrawn (especially the church basement scene where he immediately gets the dumb Bambi look when he sees Cas after his failed cannibalism attempt).

got a headache while writing this so I’ll just leave it here but like. A Lot of the reason why Jack performs so much is because specific traits he shows are not only taken as threats, but are also associated with Lucifer and treated as signs of his “true nature” <- click that link it’s important for context

Mk that’s all byeeee (*´ -`)

#cal.txt #spn #supernatural #spn meta #spn analysis #jack kline #jack meta #castiel #cas and jack #tfw2.0 #spn scripts

23 notes · View notes

kaixserzz · 2 years ago

Text

Loyal Knight 1

ੈ♡˳ Il Dottore x Gn!Reader *ೃ༄

ੈ♡˳ 4.5k words ┊ Fluff + Hurt/comfort *ೃ༄

ੈ♡˳ Masterlist | Part 2 *ೃ༄

author's note ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

I DON'T WRITE FOR MONTHS AND I REREAD MY OLD DOTTORE FICS AND IM SUDDENLY OBSESSED WITH HIM AGAIN. I WILL RECLAIM THE TITLE OF HOUSE OF SOFT DOTTORE. a long one to make it up to yall ,, but i have to cut it into 2 parts bc its too long LMAO <3 also inspired by @fatuismooches's dottore fics, they're too good

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ cw: canon typical violence, basic dottore warnings, injuries, blood, mentions of lots of scars, experiments, and death, dottore and reader r both crazy, obsessiveness/possessiveness from both parties

i. foolishness

Peaceful and quiet are the words that describe the small village where you spent your childhood. Nothing ever happened in your village. There were no attacks from the monsters that lurked outside the lands, no arguments between neighbors, and crimes rarely occurred. People freely walked outside without a sense of fear in their hearts.

It was incredibly boring, to say the least.

Not a single form of entertainment has occurred since you came into existence, and the village will continue to be boring unless you depart as soon as possible. Playing with other children can only do so much to quell your thirst for adventure, to swing a sword— a real one, not the wooden sword your mother gave you— and finally experience the thrill of a battle, be it against a monster or a fellow adventurer. The itch for excitement consumes you, and you realize that this insignificant village will never fulfill your desires.

That is until you met him.

The sun was beginning to set among the tall trees of the forest, concealing itself within the deep shades of green from numerous leaves. However, it still managed to blind your eyes as beams of light peeked through the forest's lush trees. In your hand, you gripped a real weapon, though smaller than a sword, perfectly suited to your tiny hands. The weight was light enough for you to hold it upright with ease. It was your father's dagger, kept hidden in a chest that your parents believed you would never discover, let alone open. Yet, little did they know that your burning desire for an adventure would defy all odds.

As you ventured deeper into the forest, your eyes were drawn to the sight of smoke a few paces away from your position, casting subtle hints of orange onto the surrounding trees. Fire.

Could someone be camping out there? It seemed likely, and your heart skipped a beat at the thought of encountering another adventurer. A smile emerged on your lips as you suppressed your excitement, crouching down to stealthily approach the camp.

To your dismay, it wasn't what you had hoped for. Instead of encountering another adventurer, you found yourself overlooking a small Hilichurl camp nestled beneath the edge of the cliff where you stood. It was a rather underwhelming sight. If you could recall correctly, it was a mission your father discussed with your mother. This Hilichurl camp posed no real threat. Despite a posted mission to eliminate it, no one had bothered to undertake the task, mainly because the camp was so weak that the rewards offered were hardly worth the effort.

Nevertheless, even at the young age of six, you possessed the understanding to recognize that what might be considered weak for seasoned adventurers was still stronger than you—a battle-hungry kid. Perfect! Excitement surged through your veins as the thought of battling real monsters with your father's dagger filled your mind. But before you could proceed any further, your attention was caught by a nearby bush. The Hilichurl seemed oblivious, but you were certain you saw it tremble ever so slightly...

To your astonishment, a person of your own age crouched behind the bush, clearly hiding from the Hilichurl. Recognition immediately hit you as soon as you laid your eyes upon the kid's teal curls, the gloves on his hands that you never saw him without, and the prominent scowl on his face, sharp teeth poking out for view.

It was none other than Zandik, the child who was often subjected to rumors and whispers in the village. The other kids labeled him as a 'weirdo' due to his disinterest in playing outside like children of his age and his lack of enthusiasm for socializing. You've heard your grandparents curse Zandik behind his back, talking about being a heretic at such a young age and conducting 'weird' experiments on live animals or machinery.

He was an oddity to your village, that's something you'd agree amongst the numerous rumors about him. But he certainly spiced up your boring life in the village. You've tried speaking to him a couple of times but to no avail, getting shut down faster than you can think. Despite this, you discerned that he was just an introverted kid with unusual interests. What was so wrong about that?

Still, what was he doing in the middle of the forest? Doesn't he hate being outside— wait, why is he creeping closer to the Hilichurl camp!? Without hesitation, you swiftly lunged toward the bush, attempting to maintain as much stealth as possible, and managed to tackle the boy to the ground. Your hands moved swiftly to cover Zandik's mouth, predicting his enraged cries. Fortunately, due to his smaller stature, you easily pinned him down.

"Hey, hey- calm down!" You whispered, trying to maintain your grip on him despite his excessive squirming and weak punches "It's just me! I live a few houses down yours!" Still, that didn't subdue the furious boy, scarlet eyes glaring right at you as he dug his sharp teeth onto the tender flesh of your hands.

Biting back a scream of pain, you glared back at him with the same caliber and got off of him, holding your poor hand that was on the brink of getting bitten off by your crazy neighbor. Zandik regained composure, showing pure disdain at you and at his dirtied clothes, before pointing an accusing finger at you. "How dare you attack me!? You wretched vermin! Who do you think you are for laying your hands on me!" He spat, rubbing at his skin restlessly as if attempting to rid himself of an imagined filth.

"I-I wasn't-" You cleared your throat as you scooted away from him, giving him much-needed space, and raised your hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry, I must've startled you. I wasn't gonna attack you, I just... acted without thinking..." The boy's eyes just narrowed at you when you hastily explained yourself to him, voicing out your concern for his safety being so close to a Hilichurl camp. Understandably so, he seemed unconvinced by your words.

"Well, there's no need for you to play the role of a 'knight in shining armor', thinking you're saving me from harm." The boy scoffed, rolling his ruby eyes as he heeds you no mind once more, already over with this senseless conversation. "I am perfectly capable of handling this situation on my own, without anyone's assistance. So kindly run along and refrain from uttering another word to me ever again."

Yet you spoke anyways.

"Whuh- but you have no weapon. How are you going to fight those Hilichurls?"

Another roll of his eyes— don't you listen to a word he says? He grumpily huffed at your stubbornness, "I had no intention of engaging in a fight with them. I merely had a need for something that happened to be in their camp."

You arched a brow. "They'll attack you on sight."

"I am aware."

"Okay, then how are you going to get it then?"

Before Zandik could utter a word, a Hilichurl emerged from the bush, startling the two of you. Out of instinct, you grabbed the collar of Zandik's shirt and pulled him back, narrowly evading the swing of the Hilichurl's club. You were quick to pull out the dagger from the hilt when Zandik stopped you, a wide, toothy grin on his lips.

Something metallic emerged from the ground, ensnaring the Hilichurl that tried to pursue you both, only to perish from the electric shocks that surged through the contraption, rendering the creature unconscious within mere seconds.

"Traps..." You muttered under your breath, amazed at the machine you'd never seen before, glancing at the boy beside you. He had this crazed glint in his eyes as he relished his accomplishment. "I see, guess you really didn't need my help."

Somehow, you were more shocked to see the boy look so smug, crossing his arms at you as if to say 'I told you so'. But of course, things don't always go according to plan. Danger has a way of creeping up on unsuspecting, vulnerable sheep in the wild.

Hilichurls residing inside the small tent near the campfire emerged, their anger palpable as they confronted the sight of their fallen comrade and the presence of two children. Judging by Zandik's expression, he hadn't considered the possibility of more Hilichurls being present. And truth be told, you hadn't either. It seemed both of you had underestimated the situation, assuming there was only one Hilichurl in the camp.

"So," You began, positioning yourself in front of Zandik. You thought you saw his hands tremble at the threatening growls of the Hilichurls about to attack him, but whether it was just a delusion or if it was real, you didn't mention it to him. "How about I finally take the role of the knight and shining armor?"

Zandik still found it in himself to glare at you once more. "I-I can handle this on my own-"

You ignored the slight shake in his voice. "Can you fight?" The Hilichurls took a step forward, hissing and growling louder. When Zandik stayed silent behind you, you merely shot him a smile. "Thought so. Let me protect you then!"

That made him frown. You? Protect him? Of all people? He was well aware that the villagers would rejoice upon hearing news of him, the so-called freak, being attacked by monsters in some unknown location. Why would you bother exerting the effort to 'save' him when you could easily turn your back and abandon him to face the situation alone?

Zandik refused to express his confusion though.

"You are not gaining anything in return from this, you vermin."

With a sharp laugh and a shake of your head, you raise your dagger. "Sure, I didn't expect anything anyways." Giving him a wink, it was now your turn to smile, even as your enemies closed in on you. "I'm your knight in shining armor, after all!"

ii. friendship

It was merely transactional at first.

Well, for Zandik at least. You believed that the two of you were friends after you've graciously 'saved' him from the rest of the Hilichurls that attacked you both. You were especially convinced by your own imagination when Zandik took it upon himself to patch you up from your injuries.

"To avoid suspicion," He told you, his displease was seemingly permanently etched on his expression as he put a bandaid on your cheek. "They will ask where you got your injuries from, and your mouth will blurt out the truth before you have a chance to think. I'm doing this for my own sake, to save myself from further humiliation." Though, Zandik knew that you thought otherwise if the big, dopey smile on your face wasn't telling enough.

Zandik only tolerated your presence out of convenience. He would never openly admit, especially not to you, that without your combat skills and knowledge, he wouldn't have made it out without injuries. After several days of deep contemplation, he finally proposed an agreement of sorts that would benefit both parties to you.

As long as you would provide him with your assistance for his projects, whether it involved acquiring necessary items, fighting monsters, sneaking into your grandfather's workshop, purchasing supplies (he was considerate enough to give you his allowance), or even just gathering plants during your walks outside. In return, he would help you stay out of trouble. He quickly learned that your parents would ground you if they found out about any reckless actions (you once pushed a kid into a lake to 'teach him how to swim' and you've been grounded for a week ever since).

You would tease him for this, reminding him of the words he once told you.

"You are not gaining anything in return from this, you vermin."

And Zandik would always counter it with a fierce glare, then say, "You can't be of use if you're stuck inside your house. If you want to be... 'friends' with me, then it's essential that you listen to what I tell you," It's hard not to giggle whenever he says that word with such disgust.

He might have taken you for a fool, believing that you were easily swayed by his words. However, deep down, he always had a lingering suspicion that you were merely humoring him, following along with his plans for your own hidden intentions. Despite that, he didn't see it as a significant threat to himself, considering that your compliance and patience had not caused any real harm so far.

As the years went by, Zandik's initial hostility and indifference towards you gradually transformed. From pushing you away when you get too close, straight up insulting you, or merely ignoring your very existence, to allowing brief physical contact, bringing him outside for trivial activities such as watching the sunset or having a picnic, and taking your words of criticism into consideration.

Truly, he did his best to keep you away from him, giving you dangerous tasks to somehow scare you off, but you only took this as a challenge, your physical prowess growing more day by day. In a way, he unwittingly became a catalyst for your growth. It doesn't help that you've shown genuine interest in his studies. It was an unexpected and intriguing dynamic that kept drawing him closer to you, even as he tried to maintain his distance.

The way your eyes would sparkle in wonder whilst you read his notes, or watch him tinker with whatever he was working on had an unexpected effect on Zandik. It made him feel a sense of warmth in his chest, an odd feeling of pride for managing to captivate and awe you.

Since when did he start feeling that...? No matter, it's not much of a big deal.

Zandik's attempts to deny you even a sliver of satisfaction by withholding his attention were in vain. You had a knack for asking thought-provoking questions that ignited a buzzing curiosity in his mind, questions that were too intriguing to be left unanswered.

Once, he would bury his nose in books whenever you were around, hoping to ignore your presence until you eventually went away like the pest he saw you as. But now?

Closing his book upon your grandiose entrance to his bedroom, he raised a brow at your current predicament. "You look awful." That was an understatement. You had a black eye, your clothes were tattered and blood dripped down your nose. He could also spot the subtle limp with the way you walked.

You rolled your eyes at his comment, "I did something stupid." That was all you said, too tired and hurt to quip back at him. With an annoyed sigh, Zandik stood up from his bed and went toward his drawer to grab the medicine kit inside. "Some kids found our usual spot and trashed it... Decided to give 'em a beating cuz of it." Zandik narrowed his eyes at your words and you gave him a half-hearted smile. "I hit 'em with the scabbard."

"You always do something stupid." He scowls, takes a seat beside you, and began to patch up your injuries. "There was no need for you to attack them; they might end up telling your parents about it later. Besides, we can always find a different spot."

Completely ignoring everything else he said, you brightened up against his touch. "So you do pay attention to me!"

Zandik glares at you, shaking his head. "Don't twist my words, you buffoon."

You merely laughed out loud, throwing your head back as your shoulders shook, only to be cut off with a yelp when Zandik presses his finger on a bruise on your arm. "Do not misconstrue our association as having any significance. It is purely beneficial for the both of us, and I harbor no sense of concern or attachment towards you." Zandik hissed.

Despite his digging nails onto your bruise, you chose to bear the pain and gave him a thoughtful look instead. "Mhm, is that why you took out your medicine kit even though I haven't asked you to patch me up?" You queried, tilting your head at the amusing sight of Zandik pausing for a moment, staring at his hands that held bandaids and rubbing alcohol.

"Or when I get too close to a plant that could kill me, you'd stop me and tell me how dangerous it is when I could always step on it and get whatever sickness from it, just so you could try and cure me?"

Zandik pursed his lips at that. He didn't even think of that... Why didn't he...?

You find this hilariously satisfying, so you continued. "I've been hanging out with you for a few years now, I think I'm confident to understand some shit that goes through your head. You could easily get rid of me since you can defend yourself, better than we first met, but yet here I am, inside your room, sitting on your bed." And as if you're victorious, you placed your hands on your hips, puffing out your chest. "In conclusion, we are best friends!"

For the first time in his brief existence, Zandik found himself at a loss for words. He couldn't refute the undeniable truths you presented, backed by compelling evidence that could surpass any hypothesis he could conjure. He was unable to distance himself from you as effortlessly as he once did.

What is this...? Is this what they truly called friendship? A companion who would place unwavering trust in him? Zandik couldn't help but recognize the subtle rhythm of his heartbeat whenever you were in close proximity, or the way his fingers involuntarily twitched at the sound of your laughter or the sight of your smile...

What a load of shit.

The boy rolled his eyes, "Whatever helps you sleep at night, indulge in your fantasies. You are simply a tool of convenience to me."

You couldn't have expected less. You weren't hurt by what he said, you're far more used to harsher words. But you know that you've hit him right where you wanted, seeing the boy fuming where he sat, but you'll drop it for now. You can always prod and tease him in the future.

With a bright smile that made Zandik more confused about his emotions, you let it go. "Right right, of course."

iii. familiarity

From the moment Zandik met you, you became a constant presence in his memories. You stuck by his side like some parasite, annoying him to no end but still proved yourself to be a companion worthy of praise. Strangely enough, you were obedient to him mostly, as if your world began to revolve around him.

So when he was exiled from the village, it came as no surprise to find you faithfully by his side, watchful for pursuers, hand on your sword's hilt.

Zandik had no choice but to let you follow him to the Akademiya and include you in his plans. As long as he remained in control and you willingly played the role of his complaint 'knight', he had little reason to complain. Though Zandik was sure you were going to be a thorn by his side, now that you've also decided to be his roommate.

As to why you were adamant about living in the same space as he does, "You'll die before you can even reach your goals. You can't cook for shit, forget to sleep, and the only way you'll do any of your chores is if they're starting to irritate you or get in your way." You confidently declared, earning an expected glare from Zandik.

"So you'll be the housekeeper of our dorm," he snarkily remarked, crossing his arms as he suspiciously eyed you. Your growing smile only confirmed his skepticism that you were up to something. "Is that what you want? Then go be someone else's housekeeper."

Rarely did his words offend you, but this time, you unexpectedly sighed, your smile losing a bit of its spirit. Your reaction caught Zandik off guard, but he never brought it up. Nevertheless, you wrapped an arm around his shoulder, poking at his cheek to piss him off even more. "Nah, you're not getting rid of me that easily." You chuckle when he swatted your hand away from his face, "Jus' wanna be of service of you, I guess."

Zandik couldn't help but scoff. How long were you going to cling to that foolish agreement the two of you had when you were children? He was already capable enough to go on on his own, and you've always had the freedom to do anything you pleased. And yet, Zandik never once told you to leave, nor did he provide any reason for you to depart from his side

True to your words, you did most of the housework of your own volition, nor did you voice out any complaint. In fact, you quite enjoyed it. Doing laundry, cooking, cleaning the house, throwing the random person you've kidnapped for blood samples in a random alley— while Zandik himself kept himself cooped up in your shared bedroom, slaving himself in whatever he was currently working on.

You still did whatever task Zandik has given you and allow you to contribute more and more to his projects, though you had to remind Zandik repeatedly that, while he was at the Akademiya, not to learn, but take advantage of its benefits (like a good workspace for him and abundant sources if Zandik ever sought knowledge on a certain topic), he was still required to attended classes.

Other than a few problems here and there, living together felt increasingly natural for both of you. Zandik couldn't deny that a sense of closeness had developed between you since you started sharing the same living space. It wasn't as bothersome as he originally thought. It was actually... Nevermind.

You placed a plate of his favorite meal onto the less cluttered side of his desk, as well as a piping hot cup of coffee, even though the clock just struck 12 AM. You knew Zandik would refuse to get a wink of sleep as long as his paperwork was unfinished. He didn't even spare you a glance, merely grabbed the cup of coffee and began to sip while his other hand never ceased its precise and fluid movements as he continued to write. Nothing was bound to break his concentration.

Letting out a small yawn, you gently placed down the bag full of supplies that Zandik needed to complete his current project onto his bed, before kicking off your shoes and climbing onto the top bunk. "I've got everything you needed. I also explored some ruins like you asked and jotted down anything interesting I found on paper." His writing briefly paused, his clothes rustled, and a faint hum of acknowledgment reached your ears. A smile formed on your lips as you peered down at him from above.

"You're lucky we have the same classes since we're in the same Darshan, so I also wrote you notes. It's not like I think you won't catch up, but I thought I'd just spare you the effort of trying to pay attention in class, so you can go ahead and keep doing your personal work."

You watched him momentarily stop his writing to stretch his back, popping his joints, before scarfing down the meal you've cooked just for him. "How thoughtful of you." He quipped, his own way of expressing gratitude, you've liked to think.

But of course, would it truly be a normal day without your drama?

"I know right, I am thoughtful." You said with a swoon onto your bed, dramatically sighing and expressing your woes.

You could basically feel him roll his eyes at your antics. "My, you are unbelievably humble." Zandik sarcastically remarked,

"Oh, just what would you do without me?" You teased, and you intended to leave it off from there, exhaustion weighing your bones. It was just one statement really, but you didn't expect him to cease his relentless scribbling. You raise your head and peered once more at Zandik's hunched form.

"Well, I suppose I wouldn't have made much progress in all of my projects, considering you've always taken care of obtaining my supplies and other necessities," he admitted, putting down his pen and leaning back in his chair, lost in thought. "You've grown smart enough to provide actual solid feedback, even giving me opinions when I hit dead ends. You've proven yourself to be quite useful as my assistant."

You clicked your tongue. "What a charmer."

"Though, even without you, I could still make progress. It wouldn't take me long to solve the problem of acquiring my own supplies and resources." He added, which you pouted at.

"Wow, you had me fooled by a second there. Thought you'd want me to stay by your side."

Zandik raised a curious brow at that. "You've always had the choice either do as you pleased and leave me. It's clear that I don't care much for you." You held back a laugh at that declaration, shaking your head in amusement. "I never asked you to come with me, you were the one who followed me here of your own accord. I was the only one who was exiled between the two of us. But you insisted, even going as far as raising your sword against your own parents just to be by my side."

Without much thought, you simply shrugged at that. You eyed your sword that sat at the corner of your room, eyes trailing each intricate design of its scabbard. "I just did what my heart told me."

Zandik scoffed at that, finally tilting his head up to where you looked down at him, an unimpressed expression on his face. "The heart is merely responsible for pumping oxygenated blood throughout the body. It is the brain that you should listen to."

You barked out a laugh, your eyes getting heavy, but you refused to close your eyes just yet. "Hah, if I start listening to my brain, then I wouldn't be me! Besides, I do use my brain!"

He didn't seem convinced at all, snorting at the notion. "Oh? When? I don't recall a single moment that you have." A small smirk formed on his lips as he saw you glaring at him.

"When I fight! I'm a pretty good strategist."

The silence between you grew more tense than you would have liked, as you found yourself staring into Zandik's scarlet eyes for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, he broke the silence and admitted, in defeat,

"... I suppose you're right."

You let out a gasp at his words, a wide grin spread across your face as you quickly retrieved your notepad from your pocket. "Another mark for the 'agreement tally'!" You exclaimed, visibly delighted by the turn of events.

You cheered loudly, prompting an exasperated groan from Zandik at the sight of that dreaded notepad, and opted to return to his paperwork. "Unbelievable," he muttered quietly, focusing completely on the task at hand, already being held back for long enough.

Yet, he couldn't help but bite his bottom lip to stop himself from smiling.

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛❛ If you like this a lot, consider reblogging! I'll appreciate it very very much! Don't repost and/or translate my work anywhere. ❜❜ ┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

#favoniuslibrary #˚₊໒🥧꒱kai writes₊˚#╰┈➤ il dottore #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #dottore x reader

250 notes · View notes