#grad school applications are a curse

[gravityskittles]

So I've noticed a few people have been hopping to my main from this sideblog. This is totally fine it's just funny to me because I don't really use my main to post very often, and 90% of my blog is old writing and poetry I have kicking around from years ago but it's been fun seeing people like my old posts.

Once I finish the bulk of this fanfiction I might start putting snippets of original stories on there again cause I've really reignited my love of writing over the past few months. Or I might just start another fanfiction, who knows! (I do have ideas, but there's still like six-ish chapters of this one to do first)

Anyway, if anyone wants to find me on my main who hasn't, it's @agateskittles. I can't promise many posts but there will be at least some lol.

I know I've fallen behind on the art side of this fanfic, I am working on it I swear, I'm also just applying to grad school right now so I'm having to balance my art and like actual work I have to do. I'm definitely going to get them done, the chapters are just taking more priority right now.

But I love all you guys!! Especially people who have been reading my silly little story, seeing your reblog tags and seeing people like a bunch of chapters in one go makes my heart so so happy. I love writing and storytelling so much and it's been wonderful seeing that people aside from my irl friends enjoy my stuff too

[formulakracing]

i. now or never - t.w.

pairing -> student intern!reader x toto wolff

word count -> 1.7k

warnings -> cursing, age gap relationships, power imbalance, a little bit of toxicity, toto being sexy (as always), world-building, mentions of marijuana use, mentions of alcohol use, allusions to sexual fantasies, SLOW BURN (fr this time) yadayadayada (if i missed somethin’ lemme know)

a/n -> i apologize in advance if the internship i write about is nothing like an actual internship for mercedes LMFAO also, bear with me. i know it starts slow but it will pick up!

"oh, great. you're bringing up this fucking internship again. why are you always going on and on about this stupid program?"

swallowing thickly, you drum your fingers on the table, shrugging ever so slightly, "why not? i think it would be a great opportunity for not only grad school, but for career advancement. do you know how many doors that would open for me if i—"

"you'd be gone for an entire year. that's why i don't think it's a good idea."

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

inhaling sharply, you bite down on your tongue, suppressing a sharp retort.

why does it matter if i have to leave for a year? it's not like you care enough about my interests anyway.

he arches a brow, cocking his head, "why aren't you saying anything?"

"because it's not worth bickering about," fingers curling around the misty glass, you swirl it around, watching as the bubbles float to the surface, "you're right. i'd be gone for a year. it's such a competitive program. i don't even think i'm good enough to get in. they probably prioritize european students anyway. the deadline for the application is due in a week. there's no way i could get everything together in time. it's not worth all the hassle."

"good girl," he hums in approval, shoving a few fries in his mouth, "you know i support you throughout everything you do. i just don't want you to pour all of your energy into this one project just to be rejected. i know you. you'd be devastated. you wouldn't leave your apartment for weeks."

do you know me though? do you really?

the waitress slips by the table, sliding a receipt toward the middle of the table, "here's the bill, as requested. have a great night! be safe getting home!"

gnawing on the inside of your cheek, you wait until her back is turned. exhaling, you pick up the bill, "i'll get it."

"you sure?" he presses, "i'll cover the tip then."

"sounds good."

fishing your phone out of your pocket, you let it hover over the qr code. typing in your card information, you can't help but notice him fumbling with his pockets, searching for his wallet.

puckering your lips, it's your turn to tilt your head, "did you forget your wallet at home?"

"yeaaaaahhhh," his lower lips quivers, forming a pout, "would you mind? i can just venmo or cashapp you later."

"sure," clicking your tongue, you select the tip percentage on the screen, ensuring that the waitress receives a few more dollars than suggested, "okay, it's paid for. let's go."

he follows in suit as you slide out of the booth, shoving your arms in your jacket. pulling his phone out, his attention is fixated on the dim screen, fingers a flurry as he types away.

"hey, one of the boys is going through some shit. you mind if i catch an uber over to his place? i'll be home later."

"like how late?"

"i don't know," he shakes his head, gaze glued on whatever he was possibly reading, "it's matteo. his girlfriend cheated on him. it looks like he could use cheering up."

"i don't care," your eye twitches, yet you wave a hand, "as long as you don't wake me up when you get back."

"of course baby," he coos, placing a tender peck on your cheek, "get some safe, okay?"

"i will," you nod, "love you."

"love you too!" he beams, pulling you in for a quick embrace, "i'll be back before midnight."

"okay."

it's a quiet trek through the parking lot.

a breeze rolls through the cars, promising of frigid weather. tangerine rays filter through the trees, the sun making its descent toward the horizon. the sky is a blanket of a tranquil blue, with traces of lavender and magenta as dusk transitions to night.

clicking your key fob, your vehicle chirps, the engine roaring to life. opening the door, you nearly collapse into the seat, your vision blurred by tears. sniffling, you ensure your seat belt is on, shifting the gear into reverse.

as you pull out of the parking lot, you catch a glimpse of your boyfriend as he clambers into the uber. you try to wave, to muster some sort of smile, but he is not paying any sort of attention as your car soars by.

at that, the tears erupt into sobs.

by no means was your boyfriend a terrible man. he was more than adequate, actually. however, the sheer disdain in his voice over the idea of your pursuing this internship left a sour taste in your mouth.

to be honest, it was more like an awful, putrid taste, bile rising up in the back of your throat as you wallow over the interaction, knuckles turning white as you grip the steering wheel.

the internship in question?

well, it was more like a job opening.

you left that part out, just so that your family and boyfriend would be more apt to the idea. after all, they did not need to know all of the particulars.

all they needed to know is that you were prepping for the opportunity of a lifetime.

an opportunity overseas to work with the mercedes amg petronas formula one team as a member of their media crew.

the internship spanned over the course of several months, following the team throughout the season. from what you could make out from the application, you would start just shy of the season opener in melbourne, around march third. the end date was unclear, but you figured it would end around the time the season was over in december. in all, you would be away from home for nine months.

and your internship duties? all you had to do was travel to luxurious cities, meet fans, promote the team across their social media platforms, and most importantly, film the races.

and the best part? it was a paid internship. mercedes would not only pay you for working with them, but they would also cover travel costs, food, and even software upgrades. additionally, you would receive a monthly stipend for your own personal spending, just so that you could "enjoy your time with us to the fullest."

it was everything you could have dreamed of and more.

so, what was holding you back?

well, there were a few things.

one, was your boyfriend. he was not keen on the idea of you leaving the country, even if it was only for a few months. he was very adamant that if you were to take this internship, then he would end your relationship.

according to him, nine months was too much for him to do long distance. although, the two of you had temporarily engaged in a long distance relationship before he transferred back home.

two, was your family. similar to your boyfriend, they were not happy about the idea of you leaving. they felt that formula one was too flashy. too extravagant. you would not fit in with all of the wealthy moguls and influencers.

you belonged here, in your mediocre college town where no one ever left. you would fare much better spending every weekend frequenting the same bars over and over again, running into the same people, making awkward, monotone small talk. besides, what if the internship was a scam? what if it wasn't everything you hoped it would be?

and the third reason?

well, it was a bit more complicated.

you had a bit of impostor syndrome, as you felt your skills were not good enough. your editing was too choppy. your transitions were not quite neat enough to fit the speed of the cars. since you were an amateur, your work was mainly posted across your instagram and tik tok accounts. your resume was nowhere near as elegant as the other potential applications.

so, why even try? why apply to something like this?

well, ever since you were a little girl, you dreamed of working in motorsports. you weren't quite sure of what you would do at the time, but you knew that it was your calling.

every time you watched a race or posted an edit, there was a shiver that ran down your spine, goosebumps appearing all over. there was a pull at your heart, nearly tugging away at you.

it was enticing, begging you to keep watching. to keep compiling clips together. to keep creating material that was crafted by you, and only you.

it called to push your creativity to the limits. to chase that dream.

to satisfy that hunger deep in your soul.

with graduation only if a few months, you were running out of time. it was now or never. make it or break it.

it was time to push yourself. it was time to break free from the clutches of your college town. it was time to take the leap, one that you had been putting off for so fucking long.

it was time to finally put yourself first.

to choose something that would bring you nothing but pure, immense joy.

and as you pulled into your driveway, you threw open your car door. scurrying inside, you made your way to your room, pushing the door open. tossing your bag on your bed, you hunker at your desk, locating that bookmarked tab.

everything was in order. you had the letters of recommendation. the personal statement was attached. the resume was completed. the portfolio was uploaded.

all you had to do was press that final square.

submit.

your index fingers hovers above the button, nearly trembling.

squeezing your eyes shut, you apply pressure, a clicking ringing in your ears.

within seconds, a new message appears across your screen.

thank you for your interest in this internship with the mercedes amg petronas formula one media team!

after receiving your application, our team will diligently look over your application and submit it for review.

a decision will be made in approximately six to eight weeks. once we have made our decision, you should receive an email in your inbox. make sure to check your spam, as it may be sent there.

we wish you the best of luck!

[harmonyrae]

Ethical Dilemma

Synopsis: He needs a better grade on his Business Ethics paper and you're the only one who can give it to him. But it looks like a better grade isn't all he's after.

AN: I’ve been seeing a lot of Professor AUs with the boys, and then, all of a sudden, at 1:48 AM on a Thursday, I thought “What about them as students?” and IMMEDIATELY STARTED WRITING. Anyways, here’s Student!Sylus x Teachers Assistant!Reader - they're both college aged, btw. Let me know if you want one of these for all the boys! 

Content Warnings: explicit language & sexual descriptions, Sylus talks you through it, Troublemaker!Sylus, Downbad!Sylus, Oral (f receiving), PiV, sex with protection (yay), semi-public (kinda, they big riskin it), smut with some plot, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 4.8k

When you received your teacher aide assignment for your final semester, you were stunned. No one else in your program was given a senior-level class to assist with. Tara got freshman English literature, Yvonne got freshman biology, and even Jeremiah got freshman world history. Why were you put with one of the strictest teachers at the university in a subject you weren’t interested in teaching?

“Maybe Business Ethics won’t be that bad. Maybe you’ll like it more than you expect.”

You stare at Tara across the lunch table. She winces and returns her focus to her salad. You poke your fries with your fork, too nervous to stomach even the simplest carbs. 

“It’s a senior level class… I probably know half of them and I’m supposed to what? Grade their tests and exert authority over them when Trumbo isn’t there? What exactly am I supposed to learn that will help me with my elementary education degree?”

“Well, most college guys act like children.”

Simone laughs at her own joke. Her high pitched snickering makes you laugh, despite your frustration. You cover your face to hide your smile, she’s got a point. 

“And I’m supposed to grade their papers using what knowledge?”

“I’m sure Professor Trumbo will give you an outline, if he even lets you grade them at all.”

Simone reaches over and takes your plate of fries away, setting it down in front of her and immediately diving in. 

“I hear Trumbo never takes a teacher’s aide. Wonder why he picked you.”

You glare at Simone, you weren’t going to eat the fries anyways, but now you’re even more nervous than before. How are you supposed to face Trumbo in an hour?

“Whatever the reason, you’re an amazing choice. And if you don’t have much to do, you can use the time to work on your aftergrad applications.”

Now Tara is on the receiving end of your death glare. 

“I told you I was considering grad school, not applying!”

Tara groans and taps your shoulder repeatedly.

“Oh come on, you know you want to! You’ll get a full ride, I just know it!”

You grab her hand and lean towards her until your noses touch.

“I’m considering it, no promises.”

Simone throws a fry at you.

“Now kith.”

You let go of Tara and throw the french fry back at Simone, ignoring her snickering. 

You're sprinting down the hall to Trumbo’s lecture hall an hour later cursing yourself for deciding to walk instead of catching the campus bus. Your sneakers are stained with mud and your skirt is plastered to your legs from how much you’re sweating. It’s unusually warm for January…

You skid to a stop in front of the doors and let yourself pant for a few seconds. You hold your breath and open the doors to see the hall nearly filled with students. Great, a big class. Luckily Trumbo is not here yet so you have a moment to gather your thoughts and dry your brow before trudging to the front of the classroom.

You hear whispers from the students in their seats and try your best to ignore the urge to listen in. Are they talking about you? Do they know you’re the teacher's aide? 

You try to be as quiet as possible as you set your things down at the designated desk at the front of the class. When you turn around you notice everyone’s eyes are locked on you. You slide into your seat and open your laptop, hoping they’ll ignore you if you ignore them.

The door at the back of the hall slams against the wall and everyone turns to watch Professor Trumbo, a lanky middle-aged man with a salt and pepper beard, march down the aisle to the front. He tosses his briefcase on the desk and taps the microphone at the podium. A loud squeak makes everyone wince. He leans an arm on the podium and clears his throat.

“Good afternoon. Welcome to Business Ethics. You’re all seniors in your last semester at this university so I know your motivation is at an all time low. Fix that. This class is not going to be a cake-walk. You have 2 essays and 2 tests. If you fail 2 of the 4 you fail the class and have to take the class again in the fall. Yes, that’s correct, you will not be getting your diploma. Therefore, don’t be lazy and don’t be late. Young lady?”

The silence is deafening and you finally look up to see who is ignoring the professor, it turns out it’s you. Trumbo stares at you with a hand on his hip. He motions for you to come up on the platform and you quickly stumble out of your chair.

“Hello professor.”

He gives you a small smile and turns to face the class again.

“This is my teacher’s aide this semester. She’ll be grading all of your assignments and taking attendance everyday. If you choose to treat her like shit, I am giving her complete authority to treat your papers like toilet paper. Don’t be a bitch, simple. Now, here’s the roster, go ahead and take attendance for me.”

He leaves the roster on the podium and returns to his desk to start pulling papers out of his briefcase. You stare at him for a moment, almost unsure you heard him correctly. To avoid getting on his bad side, you step up to the podium and pull a pen out of your jacket pocket. You cringe at how fragile your voice sounds on the microphone, but you push through, calling out each name and checking off everyone present. Until you reach one name, shit… you forgot he was a business major… of course he’s in this class. 

“Sylus Che?”

There’s a moment of silence and you look up, watching the students whisper to each other. 

“Sylus Che?”

Is he really missing the first day of class? 

Didn’t he get kicked out?

Oh my god, he’s in this class? He’s so cute…

You repeat his name, failing to ignore the whispers as your cheeks flush. Your pen hovers over the absent box.

“Present.”

His smooth voice cuts through the whispers and several students turn in their seats to search for the source. You spot a hand raised towards the back of the class and squint to get a better look. He stands and pushes the sleeves of his hoodie over his forearms before shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

“Sorry I didn’t answer before, I was distracted by your beautiful eyes.”

A chorus of giggles erupts and your cheeks burn. You drop your gaze to the roster and can barely make the check by his name with how badly your hand is shaking. You hear Trumbo stand from his chair and look over to watch him approach the podium. He stands at the end of the platform, his hand resting on the corner of the podium. 

“Sylus Che, if my memory is correct I had you in two of my other classes, yes?”

Sylus grins, his brows rise when he notices you looking at him again. 

“That’s correct sir.”

“And, I believe, you passed those classes by the skin of your teeth? No?”

Now the class is giggling at Sylus’s misfortune instead of yours. You bite your lip to avoid smiling. Sylus’s grin doesn’t fade, but his ears do turn red, almost matching his eyes.

“Flirting with the teacher’s aide won’t improve your chances at passing. Now, sit down.”

Sylus obeys and you continue reading off the list of names. Once you’re done, you return to your desk and hide behind your Curriculum Development textbook to text Tara.

Me

𝘚𝘺𝘭𝘶𝘴 𝘊𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴…

Tara

𝘞𝘢𝘪𝘵, 𝘚𝘺𝘭𝘶𝘴, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 “𝘏𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘚𝘪𝘯” 𝘚𝘺𝘭𝘶𝘴? 𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘚𝘠𝘓𝘜𝘚?

Me

𝘠𝘌𝘚 𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘚𝘠𝘓𝘜𝘚 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦

Tara

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰?

Me

𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 “𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴” 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵

Trumbo approaches you after class and hands you a folder.

Tara

𝙊𝙈𝙂😲

“I know you’re not a business major, that’s why I picked you.”

“W-wait, you wanted me specifically?”

He leans against your desk and crosses his arms.

“I’ve taught this class for nearly 20 years and everyone gives the same cookie-cutter answers. ‘Don’t be shady’, ‘don’t commit tax fraud’, ‘don’t fire someone without a real reason’ - I’m sick of it. I want someone who knows nothing to make these knuckleheads use common sense rather than textbook answers. I don’t want a ‘don’t do it’ I want a ‘here’s why.’”

You flip through the folder in your hands, it’s full of notes and outlines for papers and tests.

“You’re the top student in your major. You’ve been taught to deal with difficult students and essentially read people. Everyone I asked recommended you.”

You can’t stop yourself from smiling, knowing you were recommended makes you feel less anxious in general. 

“If you have any questions or aren’t sure on a grade, I will gladly look it over. But I want you to listen to your gut. Give the grade that feels right based on their answers and whether or not you think they’re bullshitting or really believe what they’re spewing.” 

You nod and shove the folder into your bag.

“You can use this lecture hall for office hours, no one else uses it except for me.”

“Office hours?”

“Oh right, I won’t be the one meeting with students, that’ll be you. If they want to beg for a better grade, it won’t be with me.”

“I have to cover your office hours too? I… what about…”

“Did you inquire about why your Education Ethics class was rescheduled for you?”

You open your mouth to reply, but your lightbulb moment silences you.

“So I do everything but give the lectures?”

“Basically.”

Trumbo stands and tucks his briefcase under his arm. He smiles and hands you a post-it note.

“Here’s my number. Don’t hesitate to call me if you’re having trouble with someone.”

With that, he leaves. You stand at your desk for a while, staring at the note and wondering how you’re going to manage the workload. When you finally look up to finish packing your bag, you see someone leaning against the wall next to the exit. You don’t need to squint this time, Sylus’s tall frame is unmistakable. 

Handling Trumbo’s class was much easier than you expected. Everyone was relatively polite and did what they were told. Only one student had failed the course so far. You were weeks away from graduation and already planning your annual beach trip with the girls.

“I’m so bored with the beaches around here… we only ever go to someplace we can drive to. Let’s go international this year! We’re graduating, that warrants a special trip!”

Tara wraps an arm around Simone and matches her pout.

“Yeah, let’s go big this year. It’ll be the last girls trip before we go to grad school and Simone is flying to Tokyo for her big girl tech job!”

You look at the girls over the screen of your laptop and roll your eyes.

“I’m still waiting on my acceptance letter. And unless one of you is paying for me, I can’t afford it. I’m saving for an apartment, remember.”

“Did you guys already order your cap and gown?”

Tara slaps Simone’s hand away from the last nacho and grabs it for herself.

“Yeah, I just hope Trumbo is pleased with my work and gives me a passing grade.”

“You’ve done a shit ton of work for him, he better give you a recommendation letter too!”

“Is there still anything left for you to do?”

“I’m grading the last paper.”

“Who’s in the danger zone? Anyone we know?”

Simone leans forward, wiggling her eyebrows with a smirk.

“There’s a handful, if they get a passing score on this paper they’ll be fine.”

“Is a certain snowy-haired sex god one of them?”

“Simone!”

Tara tries to scold her, but her smile gives her away.

“It would be unethical for me to reveal that information.”

“Bo-ring!” 

You wait until they’re both out of sight to pull out Sylus’s paper from your folder. While you love the color red, especially those ruby red eyes, you hate the sight of how much red is on this paper. Sylus is about to fail Business Ethics and it’ll be your fault. Then again, he never came to you during office hours to plead his case. He’d flirted all semester, even leaving a little note at the end of his last paper trying to woo you. But none of that would help his grade now.

You gather your things and tuck Sylus’s paper in your bag. You have office hours and then you can post the final grades. Your walk to the business building is quiet, the cherry blossom trees had bloomed last week which meant the entire walkway was sprinkled with pink petals. You trudge down the hall to Trumbo’s lecture hall and sigh, it’s so quiet at this time of day with all classes wrapped up and teachers heading home. 

You set up your desk and prepare for two hours of uninterrupted bliss. A few more papers need grading and your final essay for Child Development needs revising. You’re sipping your iced matcha and scrolling through your playlist, searching for the right vibe for this study session, when you hear a door open. When you look up you nearly spray your matcha all over your laptop.

Sylus saunters down the aisle towards you. How he made the most basic outfit look hot, you’ll never know. Ripped jeans, a loose t-shirt with the sleeve rolled up, dirty chucks - to look that effortless would take you hours. He approaches your desk and drops his backpack to the floor, he sits on the corner of the desk and props his foot up on his knee. 

“C-can I help you Sylus?”

The corners of his mouth twitch and he rubs a hand over his face to reset the serious expression he’s trying to maintain.

“Yes, Miss, I was wondering if you’ve graded my paper yet?”

You look down at the folder in front of you, knowing his paper is on top. You clear your throat and rest your folded hands on top of the folder.

“Yes, I have.”

He leans forward, his hair swaying and falling over his forehead, 

“So how am I looking?” 

Hot. Delicious. Fuckable. All correct answers, but not something you can say. Not just because you’re too anxious, but because you’re about to tell this man he isn’t going to be graduating in a few weeks. 

“Uhh… let me ask you a question.” 

He leans back and nods. 

“Do you have morals?”

He laughs, the boisterous sound echoing off the walls in the empty lecture hall.

“I’d like to think so.”

“Do you think your morals align with the ethics discussed in this class?”

He pauses for a moment, then sighs heavily.

“I failed, didn’t I?”

“Answer my question.”

His grimace turns into a grin as he gives you a once-over.

“I think the concepts presented in this class are narrow-minded and rather unrealistic.”  

You open the folder and set his paper down in front of him before crossing your arms.

“That statement alone would have gotten you a better grade than this trash.”

Sylus looks down at his paper, his eyes slowly rise to glare at you. 

“I hope you’re not expecting me to beg.”

“I’m not expecting anything, you had your chance to come to me sooner. You failed, plain and simple.”

“Hmm… narrow-minded and rather unrealistic… that seems to describe you too, sweetie.”

“You can insult me all you like, isn’t going to change your grade.”

“Oh, you’ve got it all wrong Miss. I’m not insulting you… I’m challenging you.”

You hesitate, your fingers twitching with anxiety. 

“What do you mean by ‘challenge’?”

“The prompt was about negotiations, right?” You nod. “Well, I will prove that business deals should be personalized, negotiating is just another word for interrogating in my book.”

“So you plan on interrogating me?”

He stands and slowly walks around the desk to stand beside you.

“I told you, deals should be personalized. I don’t think interrogating you will help my case.”

You cross your arms and try to tuck your legs under the desk further.

“I’m curious what you think intimidating me will accomplish.”

“Wrong again, kitten.”

The nickname throws you off, you stare up at him, your eyes frantically searching for even a hint of sarcasm. 

“W-what do you –”

He suddenly kneels and takes your hand, bringing it to his lips. He places a slow kiss to your knuckles before turning your hand slightly to kiss your palm. His breath tickles your skin and sends a shock of excitement straight to your core. 

“I tried to be subtle, but it seems you need a more direct approach.” 

He slowly starts to press open mouth kisses up your arm.

“I’ve had my eye on you all semester since the day you came into this classroom all sweaty and out of breath. Your cheeks flushed, lips parted as you gasped for air.”

He places his other hand on your knee and turns your chair to face him. He plays with the lace along the hem of your dress, letting his fingers tease your thigh. 

“You’d sit here, nose in a textbook or trying to hide behind your laptop, but every time you’d look up I’d see you look for me. The way your teeth sunk into that pouty lip of yours when you caught my attention.”

He reaches up and brushes his thumb across your bottom lip. You’re frozen in place, your heart pounding wildly in your chest and your clit damn near vibrating with excitement. You try to squeeze your legs together, but Sylus presses his torso between them. He lifts your hand once more and kisses the tips of your fingers.

“To tell you the truth, I don’t care that much about the paper. Sure, I’d love to get the hell out of this school, but I think I could suffer through another semester if I could fuck you on this desk right now.”

He suddenly sucks your thumb into his mouth, rolling his tongue over the tip and circling before sucking. You let out a breathy moan and close your eyes to try and force yourself to calm down. Sylus releases your thumb with a lewd pop. 

“No, please kitten, I want to see those gorgeous eyes.”

You open your eyes to see Sylus leaning forward, his nose trails along your jaw as his hands fall to your waist.

“Fuck the paper, kiss me.”

He looks up at you, his eyes full of desperation. At this moment, you can’t recall a single lecture about educational ethics and you don’t bother trying. You grab his face and pull him to you, his lips just as needy. His hands reach around and he pulls you to the edge of your seat.

“Get on the desk for me sweetie.”

You follow his instructions without hesitation, all rhyme and reason chucked out the window with your sanity. All you can think of, all you can feel, all you can sense is him - just him.

“That’s it, lean back for me.”

You lean back, letting Sylus lift your dress to reveal your panties. He grabs the back of your neck and brings you forward, crashing his mouth into yours. His other hand squeezes your hip and dips down to cup your clothed pussy. You shiver as he gasps into your mouth, his hand rubbing back and forth, only making you more feral.

“You naughty thing, this wet just from a little flirting?”

You throw your head back and firmly grip his t-shirt to keep from falling back.

“Shut up… ahh… as if you’re not hard right now…”

He chuckles as he licks the side of your neck. 

“Oh I am… and I can’t wait to be so deep it’ll take you weeks to forget the shape of me.”

You moan loudly, your body shaking as he finally slips his hand down the front of your panties to touch you directly. His fingers trace your swollen clit and tease your entrance slowly. You press yourself against his palm and he groans into your neck. Your fingers clutch the back of his shirt. He takes a step back and pulls it over his head as you yank off your cardigan. He clumsily pulls your dress over your head and runs his hands through your hair, gently tugging to tilt your head back so he can kiss your neck again.

“You’re so fucking beautiful…”

Your mind is blissfully empty, for the first time in years… You’re not thinking about papers or tests, student loans or grad school. You’re just letting your body take control. You let your hands slide down Sylus’s torso, every muscle shivering under your touch. A subtle click and zip, you don’t even realize you’re pushing his pants over his hips. 

“So eager… you want it, kitten?”

You let him go and lay back on the desk. His eyes don’t know where to look. He leans over and presses kisses to your stomach while his hands shimmy your panties down your legs. Your back arches off the desk as he kisses you, every tender kiss sending a fresh wave of arousal through you. You sit up suddenly.

“Am I going too fast?”

You shake your head and tuck your fingers under the hem of your bra, yanking it over your head in one swift motion. His pupils dilate as he takes in your fully naked body. 

“I want it, all of it, touch me please, fucking touch me…”

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you flush against him. His bare skin against yours makes your head spin. You can feel his heart beating and all you can think is how badly you want him to touch you, to hold you, to consume you. He pushes your shoulders until you are on your back again. His tongue is eager to taste every inch of you, his lips drag along your neck, down to your collarbone, to the swell of your chest, closing around your nipples to suck and lick at the tender flesh. He continues down your stomach and over your hips, and then you whimper as he lifts your legs to rest on his shoulders. 

“Yes, keep making those sweet sounds, you sound so good. Moan for me again angel.”

His tongue dips straight into your pussy making you groan and writhe. He continues to fuck you with his tongue, his nose rubbing against your clit until you feel like you’re about to explode. His hands grab your ass and lift you, pushing his tongue further inside. Your legs shake and you reach back to hold onto the edge of the desk, gripping something to try to stop your legs from snapping shut against his head. 

“I want you to come for me, I need to taste you. Please I need it…”

His voice is so desperate, so raw, you don’t even have to think you just release. Your cries of pleasure are matched with his own, just hearing him moan has you seeing stars. You hear him sucking and slurping like your pussy is a damn water fountain and he’s never seen water before. You’re trembling and almost crying by the time he lifts his head from between your legs. He crawls over you and buries his face into your neck, smearing your release onto your collarbone. 

“You taste divine… better than I imagined…”

You run your fingers through his hair, letting your legs finally relax and hang off the desk. 

“You imagined what I’d taste like?”

He rises and rests his elbows at your side, his face flushed such a pretty shade of pink.

“I couldn’t get you out of my mind. I needed you, I still need you.”

“Sylus…”

His eyes drift from your lips to meet your gaze.

“Fuck me.”

His crimson eyes darken as lust takes over. He stands and you lift yourself up onto your elbows. You watch as he peels his boxes off, evidence of his own climax staining the fabric. 

“Did you…”

“Cum from eating your pussy? I sure did.”

You sit up fully and loop an arm around his neck, his body collides with yours and you waste no time. His mouth slots over yours and you part your lips to invite him in. His tongue traces your lips and presses against your tongue until you’re delirious from the lack of oxygen. Your hand reaches down between your bodies to wrap around his cock. He tenses and you slowly stroke him until he’s gasping.

“I can’t wait anymore…”

He frees himself from your grasp to grab his wallet from his jeans. He retrieves a condom and tears it open with his teeth. You snatch it out of his hands and roll it on as he whispers your name. As soon as it’s on, he’s lifting you off the desk and lowering you onto his cock. 

“SYL– oh… Sylus fuuuuck…”

You wrap your legs around him and cling to him, his face buried in your chest as he slowly stretches you out. 

“Holy fuck, she’s so tight… breathe for me sweetie, you can do it.”

You throw your head back and moan loudly, the sound of your cries bouncing off the walls and turning you on even more. Your pussy pulses and you force yourself to take a deep breath, your belly expanding. He bites your nipple and you nearly cum again. He lowers you quickly, his teeth rolling your nipple distracting you enough to take the rest of his impressive cock.

“You’re taking me so well, she’s sucking me in now, you feel that?”

You nod frantically, the deep rumble of his laugh makes your stomach clench. You need more.

“You want me to move, angel? Is that what you want?”

You nod again, your nails digging into his back. 

“Use your words, let me hear that beautiful voice. Please, angel, speak to me.”

“Yes yes Sylus… fuck me, move please I need you - I need you to move…”

The next thing you know, your back is hitting the desk and his cock is slowly pulled out. Just as you’re about to take a breath, he’s ramming himself back inside. You scream his name and grind your hips forward. 

“Shit… do that again, grind on me, angel.”

You roll your hips and feel his cock twitch inside of you. Your walls flutter as you match his pace. The sounds of skin against skin, the lewd squelch of your leaking pussy and his guttural groans fade and all you can hear is your heartbeat. The tension you’ve felt for nearly the whole semester, finally reaching its peak. 

“Sy, Sy, Sy! I’m going to…  I’m…”

“I know, I know, me too… Let me feel you… come on, I have you.”

Your body trembles as you cum on his cock. A growl erupts from Sylus’s chest as he falls apart. You can only feel his cock twitching and his hips pulsing, you’re almost angry at the condom for keeping you from feeling him completely. And now, you can’t stop thinking about what it would feel like for him to fill you.

“I wish I felt that, I wish I felt you fill me… fuck…”

Sylus groans into your shoulder, his chest heaving as he tries to come down. 

“There’s always next time, sweetie. If you want there to be a next time.”

You whine as he pulls out. He removes the condom and tosses it into the trash can next to your desk. You sit up and reach for your bra, clumsily pulling it on over your head.

“What are you doing? What if someone sees that?”

Sylus grabs some tissues from Trumbo’s desk and returns to you, gently spreading your legs to clean you up. 

“Frankly, I don’t give a damn.”

He turns to clean himself and you hop off the desk to grab your panties and dress off the floor.

“Okay Mr. Rhett Butler.”

“Oh, you got the reference.”

“I didn’t peg you for a movie buff.”

“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

You’re about to put your dress on when he stops you. He stands in front of you in his boxers, his hands settling at your waist. Your breath catches as he pulls you forward. 

“I meant it, you know.”

“M-meant what?”

He leans down and places gentle kisses to the side of your neck. 

“I don’t care about the paper. The only deal I want to make involves seeing you again.”

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙:

@trishiepo0

@not-so-quite-human

@kitsunetori

@babyx91

@libriomancer

@lilyadora

@crowskitten22

@letharue

@silverbrain

@alastor-simp

@drama-trauma

@0tterteeth

@mysticcollectionvoid

@godzillaglitter

@godoffuckedupcats

@m00nchildwrites

@plsdonttakemyname

@hauntedbysmut

@withering-dream

@lostwingz2236

@simpfortheseven

@freddy-2002-blog

@plsdonttakemyname

[holdingonforheaven]

they weren't kidding about the fanfic writer curse, huh? between work and grad school applications, i haven't written since june 11 😭 and it's codywan week next week. guess i'd better get cracking if i want to have something to post

[liaisun]

hi! how are u :-)

hello dear anon, thank u for your ask! i hope u are having a lovely cozy time with lots of fun experiences and all the rest you need :-)

i was experiencing the terrors and the horrors but things are getting back on track. (ao3 author curse is real, but all that's for the notes lmfao.) working on grad school applications (yipee!!) and mountains of homework. very excited to get back to writing and maybe even some art again once this semester is over, i have so much i want to share <3

[a-person-who-is-not-you]

Curse you too professional emails my emails for my grad school application never sent bc I thought I already sent them but I had just emailed them to myself from my other professional account…

[gotjacobian]

The whole context is long, but last time I was really kind of hurting myself finishing my paper(s, there were 2) that way (and during full-remote COVID, while taking a full class load, and doing grad applications). I thought if I didn't, I'd be failing to live up to something I wanted from myself, and that I felt other people wanted from me. It was bad. Worse than I was able to see at the time. For that deadline, I would start experiments on my computer, set an alarm for two hours later, sleep, then wake up to see the results and adjust. I wasn't able to sleep normally for a few weeks after. I presented those papers, that I had spent collectively about 2.5 years of my life on, remotely, about six months later, in a totally empty apartment. It was the day I had to move for grad school - I closed my laptop immediately after, and left. The experience hurt my ability to engage with something I care deeply about for a long time, in ways that compounded with my own angst, and a string of unlucky circumstances. The papers got published, and that got me into grad school, which definitely isn't nothing. But I didn't get to travel for grad school visits or conferences. My advisors were burnt out and started cancelling meetings, and our communication totally dropped when I graduated. My new PI was and is stretched too thin to engage much. No interest in my work or me from other professors, who were busy with external life things, or skeptical of crossing fields. It was over a year before I ran into someone interested enough in my work to want to build on it, and finally got to collaborate - every other project I worked on got dropped by everyone but me (with one cursed exception that would require its own essay to explain, but led to several people in my cohort basically dropping my field). It's been 4 years since I published a first-author paper. There were no roboticists in my subfield in our lab at all for about 9 months* . I spent my first two years working on something that my advisor still hadn't internalized enough during our weekly meetings to describe correctly when I was preparing my mandatory final presentation***. That thing didn't work because I did every ill-advised thing a first-year PhD student can do when picking and scoping a project at once. I had surgery and multiple significant personal emergencies right before major deadlines (sometimes multiple at once!!). I moved to live and work in a city with no one I knew in it, which came with additional hurdles from learning to live as a not-publicly-trans trans person for the first time. AND as a first-time not-in-college adult. Etc, etc, etc.

I'm sure there's a billion ways I could've handled those things better. I doubt litigating them would help. I have missed *so* many deadlines and milestones and experiences that 4-years-ago-me was hoping to hit. Which has sucked, don't get me wrong. But it also did a lot to take away their power? I have a much better picture of how this all (academia, robotics, grad school, research, whatever) Works in a cosmic sense, that's much less tied into how I judge my own capacities. I feel strongly that I've become a better researcher, somehow, despite not feeling like I have any of the signifiers of it.

I had a conversation a couple years ago with my high school best friend's mom, who spent a bazillion years getting a PhD in nursing education (because she was simultaneously running a nursing education program). She asked me why I was doing the PhD, and said she thought a lot about how her own answer to that had changed while she was completing hers. And now I think about that a lot, too. I think my answer at the time was that the kinds of jobs I want to do require it (still true). I've been motivated by wanting to be a superstar scientist or professor - wanting to have my ideas taken seriously, to feel smart and influential and respected. I've wanted fancy accolades and awards. I've wanted to deliver on the thing I always said I wanted to do as a kid. I've wanted to prove that I can actually fucking do this, I swear to god, I know what it looks like, but I swear I can. I've wanted to make some kind of statement about what it means to a good researcher - to prove I can produce something up to my own standards and values, and to spite everything in the field I feel doesn't meet them. I've wanted to have the chance to explore questions I feel like no one has asked, or asked correctly. I've wanted it because I felt like I should. It was The Thing To Do, and no other options seemed feasible. The all-nighter still isn't great, sure, and is driven by other stupid constraints on when the robot is available for experiments (that I TOLD EVERYONE would be an issue and no one listened.) But at least it feels like my answer has changed, and I'm doing it for myself this time? And I think that's significant progress. I want this stupid paper to be done, and I want it to be good, and I know how to make it good without hurting myself. I'm the one who cares, and will get something out of it being finished. Plus: the deadline is weirdly early this year, I am NOT fucking missing mystery hunt for a robotics deadline. I'm not gonna do it. If the experiments have to happen at 10pm on a Saturday to achieve that, so be it.

*I have come to feel strongly that robotics papers in particular really require collaborators, even for the system engineering alone. And while robotics tends to mingle with a lot of adjacent fields (machine learning, computer vision, graphics, natural language), it has some very field-specific underlying philosophies and assumptions that can make it hard to get useful feedback from people who Aren't Roboticists. They often don't have the background to know what problems are hard, or why (I get a lot of people saying "I think a neural net should just be able to solve that" about my specific work. If you had access to a dataset including a cleaned point cloud of every single object in the world, pose-aligned and conveniently labeled by category and constituent parts, sure! Let me know when you find that!)** **Also it's STILL not actually that easy, which is literally one of the claims I've been formalizing in a whole section of this exact paper, but explaining why requires grounding in policy learning, equivariance, optimization, compositionality, and how those things are all handled specifically in robotics, where you can't necessarily make some assumptions that are common about how they're used in other fields. You can probably tell this is a pet peeve of mine.

*** He finally independently connected it to another student's work I'd been comparing it to for months this year, after brushing those comparisons off repeatedly, and I was honestly ready to throw a chair at him.

Second time I've stayed up all night for a paper and then left in the morning to realize it's snowing. I hope that's a good omen?

[fenris-ranger]

ah yes, the “there’s no way i can learn any of this in the next six hours but i feel like i need to at least pretend to try” all nighter before an exam, punctuated by such gems as 

who goddamned cares what shape the virus is, is that going to get little johnny’s mother out of my ER without the unnecessary antibiotic script she’s demanding?  no?  then let’s move on

oh cool there were three whole diseases in that high-yield review chapter i have literally never heard mentioned in lecture that bodes fantastically

"proprotein convertase subtilisin kexin 9" that's like a fuckin doctor who planet or some shit, get this the fuck out of my textbook

and everyone’s favorite

i know my test is in six hours but is it too early to start drinking?

[venus-haze]

Rip 'Em to Shreds (Mickey Altieri x Reader)

Summary: Mickey’s your boyfriend, and he’s not cheating on you. At least, you don't think so, until your roommate plants the seeds of doubt in your head. While sneakily trying to find out the truth for yourself, being in the wrong place at the wrong time lands you as suspect number one in the Ghostface killings at Windsor College.

Note: Gender neutral (mildly fem-coded) reader, but no other descriptions are used. I think Mickey was a fun Ghostface, and I’m a sucker for Timothy Olyphant, so this is the result. I rewatched Scream 2 recently but obviously took creative liberties with some things. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Descriptions of violence, paranoia, and emotional manipulation. Do not interact if you're under 18.

You stared at the blinking cursor on the library computer screen, silently cursing yourself for letting procrastination get the better of you. As much as you loved going to Windsor College, you were beginning to suspect that declaring a Literature major would be your downfall, especially the paper you were supposed to be working on. You already knew what you were going to write about, having notes and a weird-looking outline ready to go. It had just been a matter of sitting down and actually writing the paper that was due the following week.

It didn’t help that Mickey and his friends were exceptionally good at dragging you into more ways to procrastinate a paper that could easily segue into a grad school application. Perhaps the importance of the paper impacted your attitude toward it, not wanting to face the behemoth that would determine your academic future. 

Just as you were halfway through a sentence on the second page of your paper, everything went dark.

“Mickey, c’mon,” you whined.

“Give me some credit, you’ve been hard to track down,” he said, moving his hands from over your eyes.

He pulled up a seat next to you, leaning on the stack of books piled next to the computer. 

“What’re you writing about?”

“Sexuality in 19th century gothic literature—dark corridors, bodice ripping, ghosts, rape, incest, vampires, mad women, all that fun stuff.”

He grinned, tugging on the hem of your shirt. “You had me at bodice ripping.”

“Later, lover boy,” you smiled. “I have to finish this draft before the library closes.”

He tapped on the computer screen. “Dining hall closes in about an hour. Don’t skip dinner for this paper.”

“I hate not having a kitchen,” you lamented. “It makes no sense the dining hall closes at eight when night classes go until nine and the library’s open until ten.”

He gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Next year we’ll get an apartment, then you can cook at two in the morning all you want.”

You couldn’t help the adoring smile that spread across your lips. “You wanna move in together?” 

“Yeah, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Good,” he said, his smile matching yours. “Come over whenever you finish that. The roomie went home for the weekend so–”

“So I should plan to be there all weekend?”

“It’s like you can read my mind.”

You laughed. “Shut up before I change mine, jerk.”

“Look, I’ll be late getting in, I have to work on that short film for class, but I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.”

“Okay, see you later. Love you.”

“Love you too,” he said, giving you a kiss before getting up from the chair. “Don’t skip dinner.”

It wasn’t until you were six pages into your paper and your stomach rumbled that you remembered to glance at the clock in the corner of the computer. A quarter to nine. Damn. You took a chance on one of the vending machines in the library, getting a chocolate bar and a bag of chips to tide you over until you could eat a real meal. 

You made incredible progress on your paper, though. The promise of spending the weekend with your boyfriend was a good motivator to at least bullshit your way through the first draft. It was only a draft, after all, it didn’t need to be perfect. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

By the time you reached the end of page seven and had typed up your bibliography, you felt like your vision was blurring as you tried to proofread what you’d written. Rubbing your eyes, you hoped to shake off some of the screen exhaustion to at least catch any glaring typos. Finally, at about half past nine, you’d printed your paper and had packed up, heading back to your dorm to get what you needed for the weekend.

Usually when you walked around campus at night, there weren’t many people out and about. Windsor College was a sleepy liberal arts school for the most part, which you appreciated. The groups of people ambling around finally clicked when you noticed Greek letters on various t-shirts. You hadn’t been all that interested in getting involved in Greek life, turning down an offer from some of Mickey’s friends to join them at the Delta Lambda Zeta party that night. 

You weren’t surprised, however, to return to your dorm and find your roommate Kim lounging on a beanbag chair, her eyes glued to the small TV on top of her dresser.

“Hey,” she said, barely glancing at you as you walked in.

“Did you go to class today?” you asked as you set your backpack down, unzipping it so you could shove your pajamas and a change of clothes inside.

Kim finally answered when you walked past the TV to get to something in your dresser. “What? Yeah, I went to one this afternoon. I slept through the morning one.”

“Seriously? I woke you up for that before I left.”

“I fell back asleep,” she shrugged. “You going to Mickey’s?”

“Yeah. I’ll be back Sunday night, or Monday morning,” you said.

“Are you seriously bringing your books with you while you’re sucking and fucking at your boyfriend’s for the weekend?”

“First of all, gross. Second, he’s filming tonight. Might as well be productive while I wait.”

“Isn’t this like the fifth time in the past two weeks he’s been ‘filming’? Interesting how that’s happening while all the sororities are having their bullshit pledge mixers.”

“I know the air quotes around filming. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“I’m just saying!”

“Kim, he just asked me to move in together next year. I don’t think he’s cheating.”

“Maybe he’s just deflecting to keep you off the scent.”

“Of what? He’s been working on a short film that has a lot of night scenes. He even asked me to be in it, and I said no. You watch way too much daytime TV instead of actually going to class.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t come crying to me when you catch him six inches deep in an Omega Beta Zeta or whatever.”

You shook your head while shoving the last of your toiletries into your backpack. “Whatever. Bye.”

One more reason to live with Mickey the following school year, no more dealing with ridiculous roommates. Kim wasn’t that bad in comparison to the horror stories you’d heard about other people’s roommates, but she always had a knack for making an ass of herself. 

As you walked across campus to Mickey’s dorm, you tried to shake Kim’s implications from your mind. Mickey wasn’t cheating on you. You trusted him, and the two of you had so many mutual friends all over campus that if he were, someone would have told you by now. Despite your attempts to reassure yourself, you found your mind racing, and you became the type of partner you swore you’d never become.

If you happened to divert your walk to his dorm to go past where he was supposedly filming, he couldn’t blame you for the coincidence. The clear, beautiful night was perfect for frat parties and leisurely walks in the moonlight. You passed by a few of your friends from your major, stopping to talk with them for a little bit before continuing on your way.

It seemed like in the fifteen minutes or so you’d spent walking around, you saw less and less people. Mickey said he’d been filming near the sorority houses, but you didn’t see him around. Your heart sank to your stomach. Could Kim have been right? No. You wouldn’t jump to that conclusion so quickly. Instead, you kept walking, hoping to find him a little farther up.

In the distance, you could see a girl standing on the front porch of one of the sorority houses, phone in her hand as she looked around frantically. Weird. She retreated inside, and against your better judgment, you decided to get a closer look of what was going on.

You noticed a gleam of silver out of the corner of your eye and stopped in your tracks upon seeing a black-robed figure with a stark white ghost mask that stood out in the darkness, stalking up the brick pathway across the grassy quad. Whoever was beneath the costume didn’t notice you, and you wanted to keep it that way, hiding behind a nearby tree as you watched him approach the Omega Beta Zeta house. 

Clamping your clammy hand over your mouth, you tried to make as little noise as possible so as to not catch Ghostface’s attention. A cold chill raced across your skin. Someone was about to die. There wasn’t enough time to run to a phone and call the police or campus security. It’d take at least ten minutes for either to arrive, and then, it’d be too late. For a moment, you considered running after him, but quickly realized that without a weapon, it wouldn’t do any good. 

You watched helplessly as the masked killer slipped into the open door of the sorority house. Just a few moments later, the door shut as a girl left for you assumed one of the parties that night, but it wasn't the same girl you'd just seen outside. Unsure of what to do, you waited, but it didn't take long for a faint yell to tear through the silence of the night.

Fear froze your limbs, keeping you in place as you heard the terrified screams coming from inside the house. Your heart racing, you swore you were going to pass out until you saw the balcony doors swing open, a girl tumbling onto it, followed closely behind by Ghostface. As soon as the knife pierced her, your body finally went into panic mode, and you started running. 

More screaming and a loud crash came from behind you. Looking back, you saw the splintered balcony and a body splayed on the ground below. Ghostface slipped out from the front door, and seemed to be heading in the same direction you were sprinting off too. Oh shit, had he seen you? Was he following you? 

Tears clouded your vision as you ran, and your shoe caught on a loose brick in the walkway, sending you to the ground. The contents of your backpack crashed and rattled against each other on the impact, and you groaned at your skinned wrists. Still, you pushed yourself off the ground with determination, not bothering to look behind you and see if Ghostface had noticed your fall or was now tailing you.

Slamming the door to Mickey’s room shut, you threw your backpack aside and immediately climbed into his bed, pulling the covers over your head, as if that would shield you from Ghostface. What the fuck was taking Mickey so long? Your breath caught in your throat. He probably had no idea Ghostface was running wild across campus. Burying your face in his pillow, you screamed into it, releasing the pent up anxiety and frustration over not being able to do anything about the situation.

You weren’t sure when you’d fallen asleep, but the sun had already risen when you were woken up by the phone. Shoving the covers off of you, you hastily picked up, almost expecting to hear Ghostface’s unsettling voice on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

Relief swept over you when you heard Mickey’s voice instead of the one you were dreading. “Hey baby, it’s me—“

“Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m at the police station. Everything’s—well, everything’s not fine. I am, though. I’ll explain later. Have you been in my room all night?”

You hesitated before answering with a weak, “Yeah.”

The other end of the line was silent for a moment. “Alright, I’m leaving now. I should be there in like, 15 minutes.”

“Okay, see you soon. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

The other end of the line went dead. You looked at your discarded backpack on the floor, and decided to at least freshen up and change out of yesterday’s clothes before Mickey returned. Each article of clothing that fell to the floor felt like evidence piling up. You hadn’t technically done anything wrong, but the previous night's events, your complacency, made your limbs feel abnormally heavy as you changed into fresh clothes. Before you knew it, you were face to face with your boyfriend, who looked almost shocked when he saw you.

“What happened to you? Your wrists–” He gently tilted your head up, inspecting your chin. “You’re all scraped up.”

“I tripped and fell,” you said.

“You’re sure that’s all that happened?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You know Cici Cooper, from my film studies class?”

You nodded. You knew Cici. You also knew she was an Omega Beta Zeta. 

“Some Ghostface wannabe stabbed her and pushed her off the balcony of the Omega Beta Zeta house, and then showed up at the Delta Lambda Zeta party.”

“Cici’s dead?”

You sat on the edge of his bed, your head in your hands as you let out a pained whine.

“Baby, what’s going on?” he asked, putting his arm around you as he sat by your side.

“I saw him.”

“Saw who?”

“I saw Ghostface. I saw him run into the Omega Beta Zeta house, but when I heard screaming I–I got so scared I just came back here. That’s when I fell.”

“Y/N, why didn’t you call the police?”

“I was terrified, Mickey! I wasn’t thinking straight and I—if I call now they’re gonna think I had something to do with it. Isn’t that what Randy says? Everyone’s a suspect! Oh my god, they’ll think it was me.”

“No one will think that.”

His paltry reassurance was no match for your word vomit, because before you could help it, you blurted out, “Are you cheating on me?”

“What? No! Why would you even think that?”

“Why did the police question you if you were shooting your movie?”

He sighed. “Derek was running late to the Delta party. He asked me to stop in and check on Sidney. I was at the party for maybe ten minutes before the police found Cici’s body. After Ghostface showed up, they questioned everyone who even looked at the place that night.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Kim—“

“Is about to be on academic probation because she watches soap operas instead of going to class.”

“Yeah. Maybe I should go ahead and call the police, let them know what I saw.”

“No, like you said before, with the timing and everyone being on edge, I don’t think it’d be a great look right now.”

“So what do I do?”

“Let’s just keep this between us, okay? No more secrets unless it’s with each other.”

“Okay,” you agreed. 

He took your hand, turning it over to look at the damage to it. “Jesus, are you sure you’re alright?”

“I should probably go to the student health center, huh?”

“I’ll walk you.”

“You probably haven’t slept. I’ll be fine.”

“Just let me do this. I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

You smiled, giving him a kiss that he quickly escalated, laying you back on his bed. Making out with Mickey was nice, it was normal. For a few minutes, you let yourself forget about Ghostface as you parted your lips for him, letting him slip his tongue inside your mouth. When his hands gripped your wrists to pin you to the bed, however, you hissed in pain, and he quickly released them.

“Sorry, sorry. I forgot,” he whispered, pressing apologetic kisses to your lips. “We should get going.”

Reluctantly, you agreed, remembering that his roommate wouldn’t be back any time soon, and you had the rest of the weekend to yourselves after you went to the health center, and got something to eat, too, since you were thinking about it.

Mickey kept his arm securely around you as the two of you made your way across campus. You spotted Sidney, Randy, and Hallie speaking among themselves at one of the tables outside, and Mickey made a bit of a detour to go talk to them. You couldn’t exactly read their expressions when they saw you until Randy spoke up.

“You sure missed a lot last night. Convenient,” he said, not bothering to hide his accusatory tone.

“Cut it out. I already told you guys they were working on a paper,” Mickey said, holding you closer to his side. “You can check the computer logs in the library.”

“Wh-What happened to your arms?” Sidney asked, her eyes fixed on your scraped wrists. For a split second, you thought it was out of concern, but then quickly realized the suspicion in her voice.

“Look, I’m really sorry about what happened, but I don’t know anything,” you said. “After I finished my paper, I went back to my dorm and then I tripped and fell on the way to Mickey’s. There were plenty of people who saw me last night.”

Hallie gave you a tense smile. “It’s okay, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I’m taking them to the student health center so nothing gets infected. We’ll see you guys later,” Mickey said.

The varying looks of distrust on the group's faces made you want to cry. As you and Mickey resumed your walk to the dining hall, your brain worked overtime to come up with worst case scenarios, as if somehow the Ghostface killings could be pinned onto you, even the ones in town despite you being with your friends during that whole incident.

“They all think it’s me.”

Mickey’s silence was more than enough of an answer to make you panic.

Stopping in your tracks, you grabbed his arm. “You don’t think it’s me, do you?” 

“I know it’s not you,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. “They’re just on edge after what happened last night, especially after Derek went back into the Delta Lambda Zeta house after Sidney saw Ghostface—“

“Oh my god, is he okay?”

Mickey shrugged. “He got cut, but not fatally. Not the best look on his part.”

“What? No way, Derek would never—Seriously?”

“C’mon, Y/N, why would he go back in there?”

“So what, since he happened to get cut and I happened to trip, now they’re all thinking Derek and I have been secretly scheming to chop everyone up? Where is he? Maybe I can talk to him and—“

“Why don’t we just get to the health center before you run across campus to find the other top suspect in this whole thing.”

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”

He nodded. “I’ll drop it. I’m sorry, baby.”

The rest of the walk to the student health center was silent, though Mickey kept his arm wrapped around you. 

“If you don’t have anyone else, you know you have me,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I know,” you said, though you didn’t exactly believe yourself.

[multiharlot]

nervous // matt murdock x age gap!reader

summary: you're the first girl to ever leave matt murdock speechless

warnings: extreme fluff, slight cursing, foggy absolutely not letting matt live this down, age gap, reader is freshly 22 and matt is 32

series masterlist || main masterlist || add yourself to my taglist!

you were fumbling with your papers in your hand as you let out a nervous shaky breath.

"shit shit shit shit shit" you mumbled as you looked through the stack of paperwork in your hand.

you were here to turn in your official graduation paperwork and to talk about grad school and your options after getting your bachelors. but as you walked, you'd realized all of your paperwork had somehow managed to become out of order and your masters application as well as your graduation paperwork was mixed together randomly. as you attempted to organize them, you ran straight into what felt like a wall wearing a very soft jacket.

you'd dropped your paper with a small oof.

"i'm so sorry" you gasped, not looking up and kneeling down to grab your papers.

"that's okay. you seem to be in a rush." the stranger chuckles, leaning down in front of you.

his hand reached out towards your papers, and that's when you looked up at him. your breath caught in your throat as you took in his very handsome features.

"i-i um...yeah. well no. not really. but like...i am. i- sorry. it's been a hectic couple of weeks for me and so i'm a bit scatter brained as a result." you blurt out, shaking your head at yourself.

he chuckles, nodding his head.

"i get it." he smiles, handing the papers over to you.

"thanks. i um...i'm y/n." you smile as you grab the papers from him.

"i'm matthew." he smiles back.

well, you're sure he's not smiling back so much as he's smiling at you. considering the blindness, not that you'd point it out.

"i like your glasses."

"i'm sure i would too." he says sarcastically, making you let out a very unattractive snort.

"blind joke. nice." you chuckle.

he opens the door to the building and gestures for you to walk in.

"thanks, they're kinda my specialty." he smiles.

you walk past him into the building and he takes a moment to breathe you in. matt thought you had the most gentle voice he'd ever heard. from what he could tell, you were kind and funny and someone he felt like he wanted to talk to all day long.

"so what're you in for?" you ask as you two walk over towards the front desk.

"i'm meeting with professor douglas. he asked if my firm would take on an intern or two next year."

you pause, looking over at him as you reach the sign in desk.

"you're matt murdock. of...nelson and murdock. like...the people who took down fisk. i mean, aside from daredevil."

"guilty as charged." for both, matt thought.

"well, i have to say i'm honored." you smiled, handing over the pen.

"trust me, the honor is mine." he smirked, and your face heated up, and for just a moment, you were glad he was blind.

you cleared your throat, reaching your hand out with the pen.

"i-thank you. um...here's the pen. for the...yeah." you mumbled nervously, making matt smile.

"thank you. so what're you here for?" he asked as he felt around the page, his eyebrows furrowing realizing he couldn't feel where to sign.

you gently placed your hand on his bicep.

"may i?"

matt felt his entire body go stiff and cold, god he never wanted your hand to leave his arm.

"y-yeah. thank you." he nods, and you place your hand atop his and your other on the page.

"here's the box to put your name, and then the box over is where you write down who you're here to see"

you looked up at him to find him looking down at you. well, not looking, but it felt like it the way his eyes looked into yours through his red lenses.

"thank you." he says, and you nod your head.

you took your hand back and cleared your throat.

"i-i'm here to uh, see my advisor. i'm turning in my graduation paperwork and trying to see which route to take in regards to grad school. i hear getting your masters is just kind of a money hole." you sigh.

"i've heard that too. what's your major?" he nods, and turns around.

you make your way towards the waiting area together and take a seat as a small padded love seat.

"neuropsych. clinical." you nod, letting out a shaky breath.

"pretty and smart." he says, smirking as he hears your heart rate go up.

"and how would you know that, hm?" you quirp back.

he smiles, shrugging his shoulders.

"i just do."

your name is called and you look over at your advisor, and you nod your head, standing up and grabbing your things.

"give me your phone."

"robbing a blind man?" matt asks, quriking his head as he reaches into his pocket and hands you his phone.

"yet you still give me your phone?" you chuckle.

"i kinda have a thing for scatterbrained girls who try to rob me."

you just let our a snort and hand his phone back.

"give me a call, sometime mr. murdock."

oh i will, he thought as he listened to you walk away.

***

"i can't do it, fog." matt says, throwing his hands up as his phone sat on his desk in front of him.

"oh my god matt. are you...nervous?" foggy smirks.

"shut up. i'm serious foggy. i can't do it. i can't. what do i say? what if i say something stupid and she just ignores the text and i never see her again?"

"oh my god you are nervous. totally nervous. like a little boy in middle school who's about to ask the popular girl to the valentine's day dance."

"foggy i'm serious. just...help me. please."

"me? you want me to help you? me, foggy nelson, help you, matt murdock?"

"yes foggy. you. franklin nelson, help me. matthew murdock."

"this is...epic. i gotta meet the girl who made matt murdock this nervous. this is a historic moment." foggy claps his hands as he lets our a dry laugh.

"foggy can we do this later please? it's been like two days already."

"two days and you haven't called or texted? nothing??" foggy yells, and matt winces.

"it's bad isn't it."

"very bad, my friend. but still salvageable. you can just say you had a big case and couldn't spare the time that she deserved."

"okay. yeah, i can say that."

"or you can tell her that your shaking in your pantaloons because of how nervous she makes you"

"foggy!"

"okay okay i'm sorry. just...breathe. and just call her. i promise, it'll work out if it's meant to."

matt nods, taking a deep breath before picking up the phone and finally calling you. foggy steps out of his office and stands by matt's door that he'd left open just a tiny bit.

"hello?" you say through the phone's speaker.

matt takes in a quick breath and a wide smile replacing the worried frown on his face.

"hey"

foggy smiled and he heard you tease him about how you thought he'd been scared off by you trying to rob him. and encounter matt had retold far too many times. foggy's heart melted as he watched matt laugh, actually laugh for the first time in god knows how long.

he quietly pressed the door closed and just shook his head.

"quaking in his boots and for what"

taglist:

@luvr-bunnyy @inas-thing @glowstick-lesbian @anothersworld @fuck-goes-on @mrbillymontgomery

[starlightkun]

❧ word count: 11.9k

❧ warnings: cursing, mentions of death/dead people in the context of him being hades, probably more legal jargon than there should be but i tried to make it as easy to understand as possible i promise, it gets pretty existential at some points but never overtly angsty

❧ genre: fluff, getting together, greek gods/goddesses au, hades jaemin, human reader, nades au, paralegal reader, bit of a ham-fisted persephone allegory, inspired by the gods/goddesses assigned to the work it unit in 2020 for this video, appearances by bestie jeno and coworker yangyang

❧ author’s note: ahhh my first fic back after over a year hiatus!! not super accurate to the original greek myths, i was just havin fun with hades as a concept rather than a strict characterization. i also watched mike flanagan’s ‘midnight mass’ and read john milton’s ‘paradise lost’ during the time i was writing this so get ready for some slight spiritual/religious iconography and overtones. hope y’all enjoy, i had so much fun playing around with my writing in this one!!

❧ spotify playlist

⤷ sequel

The god’s—Jaemin’s—eyes continued to stare you down. It felt like he was looking into your soul. And you wanted him to.

“I didn’t summon you,” you told him cautiously. “Or at least I didn’t try to.”

“Okay, so I’m thinking she could accidentally be pushed into oncoming traffic—”

“And who exactly would be doing this accidental pushing?” You cut Jeno off with a scoff.

Currently, you were laying on your back on your bed, head hanging off the end of it and phone in hand. Your best friend, Lee Jeno, was on the other end of the line, jokingly scheming to get you a job at his workplace. Jeno somehow worked as a legal assistant at the best civil law practice in your city, and you, on the other hand, were unemployed. This was what you got for taking an extra year to get your master’s degree to become a paralegal instead of immediately jumping into the workforce after undergrad.

That was where you and Jeno had met: Intro to Philosophy on your very first day of college as two bright-eyed freshmen with surprisingly similar career goals and the same taste in 00s pop punk bands. Now you were a year and a half past graduating with your bachelor’s, and six months past your master’s. And what had that extra effort gotten you? Many, many interviews that all ended the same way: You’re “an incredible applicant,” but “too educated” for the pay of the position and/or “too inexperienced.”

Jeno, on the other hand, had declined your suggestion to further your education together and instead landed himself a legal assistant job right out of college. So now here you were, living off the remnants of your student loans and savings as you desperately hunted for a paralegal job.

Your best friend’s elaborate plans to get you a job at his firm would typically make you laugh, but this time you couldn’t even muster up a chuckle. Earlier today when you checked your bank accounts during a break from emailing out your résumé, you were confronted with the fact that your savings were running out; you didn’t have enough to even get you to the end of your lease in six months.

“God will, duh,” Jeno said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. His current plan was centered around a junior partner’s paralegal dying of a myriad of mysterious causes, and apparently this time involved divine intervention too.

“Oh, right, of course,” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m serious about the fact that Yejin needs to go, though. I have no clue how she’s still employed. And you would be the perfect fit for Ms. Haseul, she kind of does a little bit of everything, but her main focus is general corporate representation. Wasn’t that what you specialized in for grad school?”

“It is, yes.”

“Then there we go!”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Jeno.”

You sighed. All this talk about a job that you’ll never have was bringing down your spirits. “Anyway, I have half a leftover pizza in the fridge calling my name right now. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Alright, bye, Y/N! I’ll keep my ears peeled for any sign of dissent in the ranks so you can slip your way in!”

“Right, bye.”

Hanging up, another sigh tumbled out of your mouth as you tossed your phone somewhere further up your bed. Truthfully, you weren’t hungry in the slightest, you just wanted to get out of that conversation. You brought your hands to your face to rub circles against your temples and closed your eyes; you were getting a headache. Hanging upside down off the foot of your bed certainly wasn’t helping, but you couldn’t be fucked to move at this point.

A moment of self-pity later and you opened your eyes with all intentions to get up and take your migraine medication, but you froze when you were met by a dark shape. Squinting, it took you a second to process that the shape was someone’s legs and shoes, and you let out a yelp. Startled, you went to twist yourself around to face whoever was in your room, but just managed to fall off your bed instead. You very narrowly avoided snapping your neck, landing on your shoulder instead, eliciting yet another yelp, but this time one of pain.

Scrambling to your feet, you were now face to face with the intruder. It was a man, younger, maybe around your age, donned in all black. Black shoes, black slacks, black suit jacket, and black vest underneath that was buttoned but with a neckline cut plenty low enough to show a good expanse of his chest. He had an eerie beauty to him: his face just bordering on gaunt with pronounced cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and a hint of bags under his eyes as if he had just woken up from a night of restless sleep. But he didn’t seem to have recently awoken, very much alert and well put-together in every other aspect. His black hair was perfectly styled back from his face save for one stray lock towards the middle, and his eyes were so dark they reminded you of black holes, threatening to sweep you away forever into a cold unknown. He had more piercings than you could count in the moment, silver and the odd jewel adorning his ears. The vest showed off four or five separate silver chains around his neck.

“What the hell are you doing in my apartment?” You breathed out, desperately trying to blink away the vertigo from your sudden change in orientation.

The man was between you and the doorway, his body language not indicating that he was blocking your way out intentionally. His hands were tucked in the pockets of his pants as he cocked an eyebrow up at your question. He seemed entirely relaxed and yet the air around you still felt as if it were growing colder by the second.

“I should be asking you that. What the hell am I doing in your apartment?” He repeated your question back to you, amusement in his tone as he studied you from head to toe, then back up.

“What?”

“I was summoned by someone. I’m not summoned often, usually Eros or Aphrodite are at the beck and call of humans.”

The names made your head spin, “Eros? Aphrodite? Like, the Greek gods?”

“Yes, of course.” One of his hands left his pocket, the many rings along his fingers glistening in your ceiling fan lights as he went to push the stray lock of hair back from his face. “Humans are always wishing for love or beauty or fame. Not as often are they wishing for my gifts, or at least not with such an intensity that I’m inclined to entertain those wishes.”

Something about his candor inclined you to ask, “Who are you?”

“I’ve had a couple names. Pluto, and you probably recognize me as Hades. But you can call me Jaemin.”

His words made your heart thunder in your chest once again. You wanted to tell yourself that this guy was crazy, but he sounded so assured and calm that it gave you pause. Not mention that he had just appeared in your home out of nowhere.

“Hades? God of the Underworld? In my apartment?”

“The very same. Please, call me Jaemin. As long as I can call you Y/N.”

“Oh, you know my name already,” you stated weakly.

The god’s—Jaemin’s—eyes continued to stare you down. It felt like he was looking into your soul. And you wanted him to.

“I didn’t summon you,” you told him cautiously. “Or at least I didn’t try to.”

He took a step towards you. “And yet here I am.”

Another step. “I was brought here by a desire, your desire. So, what do you really, really want, Y/N?”

His words dripped off his tongue and wound their way through your mind. “A loved one back from the dead? The death of an enemy? To die yourself? So much money you could never spend it all in one lifetime?”

Another step.

“No, none of those,” you shook your head vigorously, feeling like every sense of yours was alight with his proximity to you. Every sound was deafening, your skin tingled, and the scent of cinnamon and citrus danced around you. One more step and he’d practically be on top of you. “I don’t want any of that.”

Another step. He was right in front of you now, his startlingly cool breath washing over your face as he asked, “Then what do you want?”

“I just—” your hands were clenched into fists at your sides, fingernails digging into your palms as you struggled to find the words. “Want to work at Kim & Moon.”

Jaemin’s head cocked to the side as he studied your face, “Why?”

“It’s the best civil law firm in the city. I know it’s where I belong, if I could just get a job there, I know I’d do well.”

“This job? Does it pay well?”

“I-I don’t know,” you confessed. “Jeno hasn’t ever told me how much he makes, but that’s only part of why I want to work there. If all I cared about was paying my bills, I would’ve taken the first job at any sleazy ambulance chaser’s office I could find. But I’d be wasted on something like that. I’m smart, well-studied, and I’ll be good at what I do. I just know it.”

He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yeah, I like that.”

Then all at once, Jaemin was no longer in front of you, and you felt like you could breathe properly again. He dropped himself onto your bed, settling in to recline leisurely against your headboard, legs crossed at the ankle.

“Alright, I’ll grant your wish,” he declared, slipping one of his rings off to roll it along his knuckles. The silver band caught the light and nearly distracted you from his words.

Pulling yourself out of your momentary trance, you immediately said, “But I didn’t ask you to—”

“Of course you did, or I wouldn’t be here. Do we really have to go through this again?” His eyes were fixed on the ring. “Now do you want that job or not?”

“If I say yes, what do you want in return? I doubt Hades himself is in the business of charity.”

“Smart. There will be an exchange, obviously.”

“Then my answer is no, I don’t want to be selling my soul or something.”

Jaemin suddenly flicked the ring up, watching as it did one, two, three flips in the air before landing in the palm of his hand, “As lovely as I’m sure your soul is, I’m not particularly interested in taking it.”

“Well then what would you want from me?”

“A third of your life.” He said it simply, as if you two were talking about him borrowing a cup of sugar, not your life.

“Wh—”

“Let me finish,” he instructed sternly, firm gaze once again on you. “Spend two-thirds of your year here, then spend the remaining third of it with me.”

“If I take four months off work I won't be able to keep the job you get me.”

“It doesn’t have to be consecutive. Give me your nights and I’ll call it even.”

“Why? Why me? Why would you give me so much for just… hanging out with you?”

He shrugged, “I’m tired of spending all my time with dead people.”

Despite his casual tone, you swore you saw something much sadder flash across his face for a moment. It was gone as soon as you had registered it, making you wonder if you just imagined it. When you remained quiet, chewing on the inside of your cheek in thought, he stood up and crossed the room to once again stop just a mere inch or two in front of you, “Do we have a deal, Y/N?”

A chance to use your degree and skills like you’d always dreamed, just for hanging out with a god every night? It sounded... not quite too good to be true, but definitely too easy. You couldn’t remember Hades being portrayed as a tricksy sort in the myths, and everything Jaemin had done tonight—aside from appearing in your room out of the blue—made you think that you could probably trust him.

“Yeah, sure,” you agreed, looking up from where you had been twiddling your thumbs anxiously to his hauntingly beautiful face. “Do we have to do anything to make the deal official or whatever?”

“What, like a kiss?” He grinned at you mischievously. “Since you asked…”

“Jaemin!” You scoffed, feeling like he was teasing you now.

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

“No I didn’t!”

“Anyway, a handshake will do just fine,” Jaemin held his right hand out in the small space between your bodies.

You took it, feeling the cold from his fingers seep into your own, and gave it one firm shake. Before you could take your hand back, he’d tightened his grip and turned it over. His other hand came up to slip a ring onto your ring finger. It was the same silver band he had been playing with before, and it magically changed size to fit your finger perfectly. Jaemin bowed slightly, bringing your hand up to press a feather-light kiss to the knuckle of the very finger he’d just put the ring on. His lips were cool like the rest of him, but you still felt warm at his actions.

“There,” he straightened back up and let go of your hand finally. “That should do it.”

You looked down at the ring he’d just put on your finger. It was a simple silver band of medium width that reminded you of your father’s wedding band.

“Goodbye for now, Y/N.”

“Yeah—” you cut yourself off when you brought your eyes up to see that Jaemin was gone. Staring at the empty space where he just was, you murmured, “Bye, Jaemin.”

That night you dreamt of a man cloaked in shadows guiding you to a tree, instructing you to pick the golden fruit that was growing on it. You gazed at the fruit, in a daze, mesmerized by their beauty. They were so inviting, the man’s voice soothing, and you lifted a hand up towards one.

You groaned against the bright sunlight streaming in through a crack between your curtains. Directly on your face. You threw your left arm over your eyes to block it out as you continued lying in bed, letting your mind and body wake up gradually.

Memories of last night’s visitor came back to you, and you sighed. Surely it was a dream. A weird, weird dream that your mind conjured up in an attempt to fulfill your wish for a job.

But when you squinted your eyes open and brought your right hand up enough to look at your fingers, the silver band that sat there let you know that it was real. You’d been visited last night, by Hades, who said he’d grant your wish for a job in exchange for a third of your life. And you said yes.

The loud sound of your phone buzzing on your nightstand prompted you to roll over and grab it to look at the caller ID. Lee Jeno.

“Yeah?” You couldn’t even muster up a proper greeting as you picked up, still bogged down by sleep.

“Y/N, great news!”

You glanced at the time on your phone before bringing it back up to your ear, “Jeno, it’s not even 9:30 a.m., why are you calling me? You can’t be on lunch.”

“I know, but as soon as I heard, I had to tell you!”

“Tell me what, exactly?”

“There’s a job opening at the firm! You have to apply!”

That woke you up.

“An opening?” You asked, shooting up into a sitting position.

“Jo Haseul, the junior partner at the firm I’ve been telling you about, her paralegal won the lottery and quit on the spot. No two weeks’ notice, they’re urgently hiring her replacement. I’ll text you the firm administrator’s email for you to send your résumé to!”

“That would be great, thank you, Jeno.”

“Of course!” He said brightly as another phone began ringing in the background. “I’ve got to go now, Ms. Kang is buzzing me.”

“Right, thank you again.”

“Bye!”

“Bye,” you brought your phone down to see he had already ended the call.

As you went to grab your laptop from the foot of your bed to begin drafting that email, your eyes got caught by the silver ring on your hand.

A week later and you were walking into your first day of work at Kim & Moon. The firm administrator, Jeong Jaehyun, was showing you around, and finally stopped his tour in an open-floor plan portion of the office where a grouping of eight desks were. A couple of them were empty, the others filled by various men and women hard at work, and also Lee Jeno.

“Y/N!” Jeno waved at you enthusiastically from where he was on the other side of all the desks, and you lifted your hand to give a small wave back.

“Oh, you know Lee Jeno?” Mr. Jeong asked as he guided you over towards your friend.

“Yes, we were in the same undergrad program.”

“Good, it should be easier to settle in with a familiar face nearby.” The administrator smiled as he gestured to the empty desk behind your friend. The one beside it was occupied by another young man incredibly focused on his screen, headphones in as his fingers flitted over his keyboard and he fervently typed out a court document.

“This is your desk, Ms. Y/L/N. Ms. Jo, your attorney, is on a call right now but she has been informed of your arrival. I’m sure she’ll meet with you when she can. In the meantime, please acquaint yourself with your workspace. Your computer is already logged in, and all of your passwords are on the paper right there. Is there anything you need at the moment?”

“No, no. Thank you so much, Mr. Jeong,” you bowed your head politely to him.

“Of course. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.” He pointed to the landline sitting on your desk next to the computer monitors, “I have a quick-dial button right next to Reception’s. Buzz me if you need something.”

“I will, thank you.”

And with that, Jeong Jaehyun took his leave of the pod that you were in. You sat in your chair, taking in the sparse supplies on your desk: two computer monitors, keyboard, mouse, a landline phone, a couple pens, and one sheet of paper laid across your keyboard. It was a list of your login credentials for your computer, work email, and the firm’s file management software, along with Mr. Jeong’s extension and quick-dial button name.

You turned back around to where you knew Jeno was already waiting for you. Your friend was practically vibrating with excitement in his own desk chair.

“This is so exciting!” Jeno exclaimed, momentarily drawing the attention of all the other employees in your vicinity before they went back to whatever they were doing. He continued on much quieter, “I told you you’d kill it at your interview.”

“Right,” you nodded, trying not to think about the silver ring on your right hand. “Thanks, Jeno, I’m excited to start.”

“I’ll give you the rundown of everyone at the firm, come here,” he scooted his chair over to make room for you to roll yours up to his desk.

His fingers quickly flitted across his keyboard and mouse to pull up the firm website. Hovering over the tab labeled ‘Our Attorneys,’ you saw a list of names drop down. He clicked on the first one, Kim Chaeyoung. It pulled up a profile, the picture showing a very determined older woman, her arms crossed over her chest as she very resolutely stared down the camera.

“This is Kim Chaeyoung, the ‘Kim’ in Kim & Moon. She’s the most senior attorney at the firm, and mostly does corporate compliance and medical malpractice law. She just stepped down from being managing partner at the end of last year.”

He clicked the next name on the list, Moon Taeil. This time a man was on your screen, a bit older than you, but not by too much. No more than ten or fifteen years for sure, quite young to be a managing partner at such a large firm. His gaze wasn’t quite as intense as Kim Chaeyoung’s, but it held an intelligence and wisdom clearly beyond his years.

“Mrs. Kim stepped down to let this man, Moon Taeil, take over as managing partner. Something about wanting younger blood in charge but…” Jeno looked around the pod before he dropped his voice to a whisper so soft you had to lean in to hear him, “The rumor is that Mrs. Kim is going to announce her retirement at the holiday party at the end of this year.”

“And what sort of law does Mr. Moon do?” You questioned.

“Mostly insurance litigation. He tends to get the nastier incidents though: shootings, stabbings, fires, the odd dog bite.”

You then went through the senior partners before getting to the first of the junior partners on the list.

“And here is Jo Haseul, your attorney. She’s the most senior of the junior partners, and rumors also say that she’s going to be made a senior partner by the end of this year.”

“You love your office gossip, don’t you?”

You studied the woman on screen. She was younger than you had expected, a fierceness in her eyes that both intimidated you and inspired you to follow her wherever she led.

“This isn’t even the juicy stuff, wait until you hear about the affair Mr. Noh supposedly had with his assistant in the 80s,” Jeno scoffed, then turned his attention back to the woman on screen. “Anyway, Ms. Haseul is Mrs. Kim’s protégé. She mostly does general corporate matters, medical malpractice, and the occasional pro bono representation for women in need. Restraining orders, child custody, divorce, whatever comes in the door. If you really want to get to know her, ask about those cases.”

“She sounds incredible.”

“I told you you’d be perfect for each other.” Your friend then pulled up the next junior partner, “This is Kim Doyoung, he’s Mrs. Kim’s son but you’d never be able to tell by how they act around each other. All business. I think he doesn’t want people to assume he only got his position because of his mother, but nobody who has actually spoken to Mrs. Kim would ever think she’d do something like that. She’s got some serious integrity.”

Jeno was about to move on to the next attorney profile, a ‘Qian Kun,’ when you heard a ringing from behind you.

“Oh, that’s you, Y/N!”

You quickly wheeled yourself back over to your desk, picking up your desk phone after the third ring, “Y/L/N Y/N speaking.”

“Ms. Y/L/N,” a woman’s voice was on the other end, and when you glanced at the caller ID, you saw ‘Jo Haseul’ across the screen. “This is Jo Haseul. Please come to my office now.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I’m down the hall. Ask another assistant if you need help finding it.”

“Will do, thank you.”

She hung up, and you rushed to stand up. Grabbing one of the pens you saw earlier, you frantically scanned for a notepad to write with, but there wasn’t one on hand at your desk. You whipped around to face your friend, “Jeno, do you have a notepad I can use? Ms. Haseul wants to see me.”

“Here,” he handed you a notepad slightly bigger than your hand, spiral-bound at the top.

“Thank you!”

“The attorney offices are down that hall,” he pointed. “And Ms. Haseul’s will be on your left.”

“Got it, thanks!” You hurried in the direction he gestured.

Thankfully, everyone’s names were engraved on metal nameplates on the doors, making it easy to know when you had stopped in front of your attorney’s. Rapping your knuckles against the wood, you waited for a response.

“Come in.”

You entered already bowing, “Y/L/N Y/N, ma’am. It’s an honor to be here and I am very grateful for the opportunity to work with you.”

Jo Haseul appraised you for a moment from where she was sat behind her desk. She then nodded, “It’s nice to meet you. Now please sit, Y/L/N.”

“Yes ma’am,” you quickly sat in the armchair she had gestured to.

After brief introductions, Ms. Haseul gave you the rundown of the kinds of cases she tended to deal with—which generally lined up with what Jeno had told you earlier, her management style, workflow, and an overview of the duties you’ll be expected to fulfill as her paralegal. At the end of it, you left with pages of notes, a stack of papers in your arms, and your first tasks to do for her.

Stopping at your desk, you didn’t even sit as you organized the papers into three stacks: to correct, to file, and to copy. You picked up the last stack of things that Ms. Haseul wanted copies of, then turned to your friend, “Hey, Jeno, where’s the copier?”

The assistant sat at the desk beside yours was the one who spoke up in response, his headphones set aside now, “Oh, I’m going there right now, I’ll show you!”

“Thanks, Yangyang,” Jeno said, then nodded for you to go along with the other man.

Yangyang grabbed his own paper before leading the way out from the desks. He took off in the opposite direction from the offices down a different hallway, “It’s down this hall, first door on the right.” He then opened said door to reveal a room with four large copy machines in it.

“I’m Liu Yangyang, by the way,” your coworker introduced himself, stopping in front of one machine. “I’m Qian Kun and Dong Sicheng’s legal assistant. They’re Ms. Haseul’s associate attorneys that work under her so you and I will overlap quite a bit. Sicheng usually handles corporate matters with Ms. Haseul while Kun does the med mal portion.”

“I’m Y/L/N Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Yangyang.”

“You too, Y/N. And I’m sure you’ll meet my attorneys at some point today. I apologize in advance, and yes, they are always like that. Kun’s a workaholic who would be here until two in the morning if somebody didn’t send him home, and Sicheng… you are allowed to say no to him, and I encourage it, actually. Booksmart but doesn’t quite get social cues. I’ve seen him accidentally sweet talk his way into having an assistant pick up his dry cleaning before.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, I had to intervene to ensure feminism wasn’t set back fifty years,” Yangyang scoffed.

“Women everywhere commend you for your service to the cause, Yangyang,” you nodded solemnly, to which your coworker snickered.

“The dude’s wicked smart but dumber than a box of rocks. Associates, you know?” He shook his head then returned to instructing you about the machine.

After Yangyang had shown you how to use the multipurpose machine—scanning and uploading, printing, copying, faxing—he took the copies that he had made and left you there. Nobody was at the other copiers, making you the only one in the room. You took a deep breath to compose yourself after having so much information thrown at you from all sides. Right now, at this moment, all you needed to do was make a copy.

Putting the first document in where Yangyang had shown you, you’d just started tapping the touchscreen through to the copying option when a dark figure appeared at the edge of your vision. Your head snapped up to look at the man leaning against the wall beside the copy machine you were at.

You hadn’t seen Jaemin since the night you’d made your deal. You’d spent the entire next night anxiously waiting for him to appear, but he never did, and you eventually gave up and fell asleep. He didn’t come any night after that, and you kind of thought he might’ve forgotten about you, or maybe didn’t really want you to hold up your end of the deal. Realized that he could find better company than you.

But here he was, in your workplace, smirk on his face and delight in his tone, “Surprise! I came to visit you on your first day of work. I’m so proud!”

First rolling your eyes at the sarcasm in his words and the fake tear he wiped away, you then fervently glanced towards the door to the copy room, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m checking on my investment,” he answered coolly.

“What, me? You can check on me at my home tonight, not at my job on my first day of work! Somebody could walk in, how would I explain you?”

“Nobody’s coming.”

“The deal was that I would give you my nights. Sun’s still up.”

“Yes, you’re doing just fine,” he nodded as he adjusted his black tie, seeming satisfied with his ‘check in.’ “I’ll see you tonight, Y/N.”

And he was gone in the blink of an eye.

You immediately flopped down onto your couch when you got home that night. That was the most work you’d done in a while; you were tired both physically and mentally. But it was a good sort of tired. You finally had a job.

“Hi, honey, how was work?”

You shot up at the voice, knowing exactly who it was. Jaemin was poised in your armchair, half a smirk already on his lips. He was in all-black again, though a slightly different suit from last time, his slacks and suit jacket had thin dark grey pinstripes, over a black silk dress shirt with the top three buttons open.

“Oh, uh, it was good,” you said.

Silence fell over you two, and you started fidgeting uncomfortably as it dragged on. Finally, you said, “So... what do you want to do?”

“Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“I feel like you already know the answer to that, but no. I just got home.”

“Let’s get dinner then. Where would you like to go?”

“Uhm...” you wracked your brain for some places nearby. “There’s a ramen place down the street. Let me change out of my work clothes first, hold on.”

Re-emerging from your bedroom in more casual clothes, you saw that Jaemin had moved from his spot on your armchair and was instead standing, gazing out the window. And again, for a brief moment, you could’ve sworn he looked... lonely.

“I’m ready,” you announced yourself. It felt wrong to keep looking at him like that.

Jaemin turned around, focusing a dazzling smile on you, “Lead the way, Y/N.”

The place you were thinking of really was just a couple blocks down the street. Mumbling a thanks to Jaemin as he held the door open for you, you were immediately met with a packed restaurant. It was seat-yourself, and you managed to spot a small table for two in the very back corner, right beside the entrance to the kitchen. Guiding Jaemin over to it, you felt your face turn warm as he pulled your chair out for you.

The menu was a singular piece of laminated paper taped to the tabletop, and your eyes skimmed it. You ordered the same thing every time at this point, but it was something to look at other than the god in front of you. Speaking of, he was a god. Did he even need to eat?

“Jaemin.” You said his name as you looked up from the menu.

His eyes flicked up from where they’d also been reading the options, “Hm?”

“Do you even eat, like, normal food?”

“I can if I want to, I just don’t need it to survive like you do.”

“Oh, I see. And do you... like it?”

“Quite.”

It was then that a familiar waiter came up to your table, “Hi, Y/N! It’s been a while. Almost didn’t recognize you at a table instead of the bar.”

Typically, you would come by yourself and sit at the bartop to eat alone alongside all the other solo patrons. You rolled your eyes at the slight jab, “Thank you, Chenle, I feel so welcome.”

“Aw, you know you’re one of my favorite regulars,” the young man snickered.

“Yeah, whatever. Sorry I haven’t been by lately, I didn’t exactly have the funds to eat out.”

“That’s okay. But you’re back, does that mean that you found a job?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Congrats!” He then focused his attention on the man across from you, “Hi, I’m Zhong Chenle.”

You moved to introduce the two before Jaemin could open his mouth, afraid of what he would’ve said. “Chenle, this is Jaemin, a... friend of mine. Jaemin, this is Chenle, he’s a server here.”

“And I’ll be serving you two tonight. So, what can I get you?”

After taking your orders, Chenle took off to put them in. You shifted in your seat awkwardly. What were you and Jaemin even supposed to talk about?

“You usually sit at the bar?” Jaemin questioned.

“I’m not an alcoholic, despite how Chenle made it sound,” you scoffed. “I usually come by myself, and the bar is the quickest place to get your food and get out. And that way I don’t take up any tables that groups can use.”

“I feel honored that you brought me here, then.”

You searched his face for any hint that he was teasing you, but all you found was sincere curiosity. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, you changed the topic, “So why did you show up tonight? You didn’t come all last week.”

“Well, I had to hold up my end of the deal first.”

“Right, that... makes sense.” Realizing that you hadn’t even thanked him for whatever he’d done for you, you added, “Thank you, Jaemin. For you know, the job.”

“You’re welcome.”

Chenle returned then with a small bottle of soju for each of you, informing you that your food would be ready soon.

“So is it everything you’d dreamed of? Working at Kim & Moon?” Jaemin asked before lifting his bottle to his lips.

“Today was only my first day but... yes. I’ve already learned a lot, was listened to when I spoke, and the partner I work for seems like an incredible woman so far. It’s wonderful.”

“I hope it stays that wonderful for you, Y/N. I’d like to see your eyes light up like this often.”

Looking down at the green bottle in front of you, you twisted your ring around your finger nervously. You didn’t know what to say back, your heart fluttering around in your chest. Jaemin was charming, too charming for your own good, and you sort of felt like you really shouldn’t have expected any less from a god.

“Are you curious?”

You snapped your head up to look at your companion, not even attempting to hide your confusion at his words, “About what?”

“What I did, to get you the job.”

“I mean, I am. I assume you had something to do with Yejin winning the lottery? You’re the god of everything below the Earth, including precious gems, gold, silver. The god of riches, wealth. In the modern day that would translate to how we view wealth and riches now, since I’m not really out here buying my groceries with rubies and gold coins. Right?”

Jaemin’s obsidian eyes practically glittered as he listened to you speak, his lips curling up at one corner before he took another swig of his soju. When you were finished, he set the bottle back onto the table to answer your question, “Hit the nail on the head.”

“Honestly, I’m just glad you did that instead of killing her or something horrible.”

His head jerked back as he looked at you with bewilderment, “Now why would I do that? I’m the god of the dead, not death. If you wanted her dead you’re talking to the wrong deity.”

“I don’t want her dead, that’s my point. That’s what Jeno was joking about on the phone before you showed up; I didn’t want you to get any ideas.”

“I don’t really find it fun to just push people into traffic.”

“So you were listening to—” You cut yourself off as you saw Chenle approaching with your food. Not a conversation to be having in front of your normal human waiter.

After he had left your table again, you returned to what you were saying before, “So you were listening to our conversation.”

“Can’t help myself, I’m nosy when it comes to the humans who summon me,” Jaemin admitted.

“So what does Hades do for fun then?” You asked lightheartedly, slurping at some of your broth.

“While I don’t necessarily enjoy pushing people into traffic, I do find it much more fun to let a human become suddenly awash with money and watch what happens when they eventually lose it all. See what they spend it on, who they spend it on. Themselves mostly, sometimes others, trying to get people to be their friends or lovers simply because of what they’ll buy them. I’ll watch them do what humans do best, use and abuse the gifts that were given to them. And then once they’ve been sucked dry both in their finances and their souls, find out how they try to move on.”

“Is that what you’re doing with me?” You set your spoon down, voice wavering. “Watching and waiting for me to end up like that?”

Jaemin took a pause, shifting forward in his seat before responding, “One of my favorite things about humans is how resilient you are. Always trying to bounce back. It’s fascinating to find out your breaking point, when you have no more bounce left.”

An absolutely devilish smile played across his features as he seemed to take delight in the notion. He didn’t exactly answer your question, but the lack thereof felt like enough.

“Why?”

“Because it’s different for every person, and always further than I think it’ll be. Even after so long, knowing that humans can still surprise me, it’s refreshing. Makes me think that…”

You blinked at him, waiting for him to finish. He was definitely well aware that he had your rapt attention, basking in the drama he had created by pausing. His eyes settled on you firmly, holding eye contact as something softer entered them.

“Maybe you’ll surprise me, too.”

Jaemin came back to your apartment with you after you’d decided you were full. You hadn’t had much of an appetite after that harrowing conversation over dinner, and he’d left you with a lot of thinking to do. It wasn’t every day that you heard a god’s perspective on human lives—on toying with human lives, watching for their eventual breakdown in the aftermath of the ‘gifts’ he gave them. If that’s what it did to them all, it seemed much more like a curse to you.

And you were of course thinking about whether it would happen to you too. You hadn’t wished for riches or wealth directly, definitely not so much that it would have the same effect on your life as winning the lottery. But that didn’t mean that you weren’t worried. And the idea of Jaemin watching you every step of the way, waiting to see when you’d slip up, when you’d meet your breaking point, made you shiver instinctually.

“Are you cold?” Jaemin’s question broke the silence that had been hovering over you two since you started the walk from the restaurant back to your apartment.

“Oh, no, I—”

But he had already shrugged his suit jacket off and laid it over your shoulders. There was no residual body heat in it, but it did help block out some of the breeze blowing past you. You hadn’t noticed the temperature at all, too wrapped up in your own thoughts.

“Thanks,” you muttered, wrapping the jacket tighter around your shoulders. It smelled faintly of spiced citrus.

“No worries.”

Back in your apartment, you wanted nothing more than to lay in bed staring up at your ceiling as you gave yourself over fully to the existential crisis you were descending into. But you still had a god to entertain.

A glance at the change in time on your stovetop clock let you know that you were only a couple hours into your commitment. You hoped he didn’t expect you to stay up all night with him. Leaving Jaemin in your living room once again, you changed into pajamas in your bedroom. If he was going to be with you every night from here on out, you were at least going to be comfy for some of it.

Jaemin was back in the armchair he had appeared in at the beginning of the night, one knee crossed over the other and a book in hand. You paused behind him on your way back into the living room to peer over his shoulder, trying to read the title at the top of the page he was on.

“The Turn of the Screw?” You questioned, walking around him to plop down onto your couch.

“I found it on your shelf,” he gestured to the built-in shelves in the walls around the recess that held your TV. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Knock yourself out, I haven’t touched it since I had to read it for a ghost literature class like… four years ago.”

“Ghost literature class?” Jaemin lowered the book to rest on his leg while he regarded you with an eyebrow raised. “Did you go to school in the Underworld or something?”

“It was actually called like ‘Ghost Stories and Haunted Fiction of the 19th Century’ or something. The students just called it ghost lit. We read all these spooky stories, including The Turn of the Screw,” you explained, then looked around your living room. “I have a few more of them around here somewhere. Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein— I can’t remember the full reading list, but they’re scattered around.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He raised the book back up to continue reading intently.

Since he seemed occupied for the moment, you pulled out your phone to distract yourself.

A couple hours later and you let out your first yawn of the night. You’d thought that Jaemin was so enraptured by the book that he wasn’t paying any attention to you. The chuckle he gave from across the room proved you wrong, however. There was definitely nothing funny in that story. You threw him a scowl, but he neither looked up from the book nor said anything.

Shifting in your spot to get comfy again, you returned to the article that you’d been reading on your phone and your guest was quiet once again. Another yawn split your mouth, and the words on your screen swam in your vision as your eyes teared up.

“Tired, Y/N?” Jaemin’s eyes still hadn’t left the book as he continued, “You should go to sleep, early day at work tomorrow, right?”

“And what are you going to do?”

“I thought I’d finish this book, if that’s alright with you. I’ve got about… thirty, forty pages left.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” you were surprised both that he was encouraging you to go to sleep during the time you’d agreed to forfeit to him, and that he wanted to finish the book.

Standing up from the couch, you shuffled into your kitchen to fill up a glass of water. After knocking back your nightly medication, you placed the water on your nightstand and went into your bathroom to do your nighttime routine. You found yourself hovering at the threshold between the hallway that contained your bedroom and bathroom, and the living room. It felt weird to just go to bed with someone else in your home, at least not without saying goodnight to them.

“Uhm,” you cleared your throat.

Jaemin turned to look at you from over the back of the armchair, “Yes, Y/N?”

“I just wanted to…” you felt the words catch in your throat. Pushing through your awkwardness, you twisted the ring around your finger as you forced the words out, “Goodnight, Jaemin.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He smiled at you before turning back around to face his book, “See you tomorrow.”

And with that, you retreated into your bedroom for the night, falling asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.

The man of shadows was in your dreams again that night, drawing you to the tree with the golden fruit. His voice once more invited you to partake in picking the fruit, and your hand inched up, up, up, towards one. Your fingers had just wrapped around the fruit, ready to pluck it off the branch, when you woke up.

When you awoke the next morning, you went through the motions of your morning routine, strolling from your bathroom out to your kitchen, toothbrush sticking out of your mouth. You continued brushing your teeth with one hand as you grabbed the freshly popped toast from the toaster to put on a plate. As you went to lean over the kitchen sink to spit the toothpaste foam out of your mouth, your eyes got caught on something in the living room, which the sink overlooked. There was a small black pouch sitting on the coffee table, on the corner closest to the armchair.

After wiping your mouth off, you walked over to your coffee table, intrigue building as you picked up the velvet drawstring pouch. Looking around, you were only greeted by your empty apartment. This wasn’t here last night. Or at least, not before you went to sleep.

Pulling it open, you gently shook the contents out onto your palm. It was a silver bracelet, intricate filigree running along the band that was inlaid with gorgeous green and blue gems.

Jaemin’s words from dinner last night echoed in your head.

‘I do find it much more fun to let a human become suddenly awash with money and watch what happens when they eventually lose it all… It’s fascinating to find out your breaking point…’

A foreboding feeling colored your vision, and you rushed to tuck the bracelet back into the bag and throw it onto the table.

When Jaemin came that night, you were cooking dinner in your kitchen. He appeared there with you, leaning against the counter next to your sink as you were standing over the stovetop.

“Good evening, Y/N,” he greeted you.

“Hello, Jaemin.” You steeled your nerves, giving as nonchalant of a nod as you could towards the living room, “You left something here last night. It’s on the coffee table.”

The god regarded you with a tilted head, and you felt his eyes on your empty wrists, “That was for you.”

“I didn’t ask you for anything like that.”

“I know. It was a gift.”

“The job was plenty, Jaemin.”

He was silent as he continued to watch you cook. After a grueling couple of minutes of absolute silence, his eyes burning into you the whole time, you finally turned to properly look him in the face. Throwing on a smile, you informed him, “Dinner’s ready. Ravioli, would you like some?”

“Yes, please.”

You set two places at your dinner table before plating two portions of the pasta. Jaemin was still in his place next to the sink, observing your movements.

“Go ahead and sit, I’m just going to grab a couple glasses,” you gestured towards the kitchen table.

Without even waiting to see if he’d obey, you bustled over to a cabinet and took out two wine glasses, then grabbed a bottle of white wine you’d been meaning to finish off. When you turned back to the kitchen table, you were pleasantly surprised to see Jaemin waiting there patiently, fidgeting with his silverware. Setting the two glasses down, you noticed that Jaemin’s silverware was in different places than you had put them in when you hastily set the table. The fork was on the left of the plate, the knife and spoon on the right with the knife directly beside the plate and the spoon on the other side of the knife. Yours on the other hand were in the haphazard places atop the napkin that you had put them earlier.

“Apologies for the subpar fork placement,” you said, uncorking the wine to begin pouring it out first for Jaemin.

“Oh, it’s just a habit,” he explained. His tone then turned as teasing as yours had been, “My apologies for making you think your fork placement was anything other than above par.”

You then poured for yourself as you continued the banter, “Yeah, you know, I really pride myself on my utensil arranging skills. My feelings have been gravely wounded. I’ll never recover from this.”

“Then would you consider taking this,” he procured a small black pouch from his pocket, and you had a suspicion as to exactly what was in it, “as repentance, with my sincerest apologies?”

A bitter sigh came out of your mouth at him ruining the perfectly normal moment you were enjoying, “Jaemin, I told you I don’t want any more gifts from you.”

The way you spat out the word ‘gifts’ was apparently a lightbulb moment for him as he set the pouch down on the table and all playfulness dropped from his face. Disinterested in whatever he was going to say to try to convince you to take it, you picked up your fork, using the side of the tongs to cut one of your raviolis in half.

“Y/N…” he said your name almost wistfully, leaning forward towards you earnestly. “I really do just want you to have it. It’s not a test or a ruse, just… a token.”

“A token of what?” You snorted, spearing half of the ravioli that you’d just cut and bringing it up to your mouth.

“My affection?”

You choked momentarily on the pasta in your mouth, chewing and swallowing it as quickly as possible and taking a sip of your wine to wash it down. Jaemin still hadn’t touched his food, utensils undisturbed as he waited for you to collect yourself. When you searched his face for a smirk, a mischievous glint in his eyes, anything to indicate that he was being less than truthful, you found none. You were just met with deep open pools of black in his eyes, his mouth set in seriousness, and his hand once again holding the pouch back out to you.

“Your what?”

“I know you heard me.”

“Yes, and now I’m asking for clarification.”

“I find you fascinating, and not in the morbid kind of way like I described to you last night. I’ve found myself starting to become fond of you, and I wanted to show that to you with a… present.”

“What, like getting your puppy a new chew toy because they’re so darn cute?”

Jaemin chuckled, “Not quite. But still, will you please accept it, Y/N?”

You thought it over for another moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek. He was being sincere, you were sure of it. You’d caught brief glimpses of the kinder side to Jaemin just in the few times you’d met him: when he’d leant you his suit jacket walking home last night, telling you he was hoping you’d continue being in love with your job, the gentlemanly peck he’d left on your fingers the night you’d made your deal. And now, as he patiently awaited your answer.

“Alright,” you agreed, taking the small bag from him. “Thank you, Jaemin.”

“Thank you for letting me give it to you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Pulling the bracelet back out of the pouch, you saw that it had a hinge mechanism on it that you couldn’t manage one-handed, and held it out to the god sitting in front of you, “Will you help me put it on?”

“Of course,” he took it, opening the band up with ease.

You held your right hand out towards him, and he brought the open bracelet up around your wrist. But you weren’t watching the way his deft fingers put it on around your wrist, the tips of them brushing over the sensitive skin at your pulse point, leaving coolness behind. You were watching his face as he focused on the task intently, his brows furrowing in concentration then relaxing after the bracelet had clicked shut. A small but tender smile took over his face, his eyes softening as he turned your hand over palm down, thumb running up your ring finger until it reached the silver band that resided there.

Your skin buzzed in the wake of his touch, an electric cold. You could hear your heart thudding in your ears and hoped that he didn’t have supernatural god hearing or something and could hear it too. If he did, he gave no indication of such. He withdrew his hands, leaving you more dazed than you should’ve been at the minimal contact you had. Jerking your hand back to your side of the table, you turned your gaze down at your food, trying to ignore how hot your cheeks were.

A light laugh came from Jaemin, but you couldn’t force your eyes back up to him, knowing that his were already on you.

That night you dreamt once more of the man cast in darkness, leading you to the tree of golden fruit. This time when he encouraged you to pick one, you grasped at the fruit with two hands, pulling it right off the branch with a firm tug.

Just about one month into your… arrangement with Jaemin, you were rooting through your fridge for something to make for dinner when there was suddenly a cool breeze on the back of your neck. Except you were indoors.

Spinning around, you were immediately met with the god extremely close to you, and let out an exasperated sigh, “God damn, Jaemin, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“I can’t help it if I make your heart race,” he grinned, the mischievous glint in his eye making your heart pound in a different way that it had been.

“Yeah, because you jumpscared me,” you rolled your eyes, shutting the fridge doors to then lean back against the appliance. “Anyway, it’s not looking like I have anything to make for dinner. You okay with eating out tonight?”

“More than, I was actually hoping you’d let me take you somewhere tonight.”

“Where?”

“My place. You’ve been such a gracious host this whole time, it’s time I repay the favor.”

“Your place, as in... the Underworld?”

“Yeah, why not?” He shrugged nonchalantly, an enticing grin on his features. A grin that invited you to follow its owner to places you’d never been before. “I promise you’ll come back.”

“In one piece?”

“Of course.”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t intrigued, that you hadn’t tried to picture what the Underworld looked like. All you could come up with was the standard image of hell: flames, pitchforks, eternal torture. But now you were getting an invitation to go there with Hades and come back alive.

“And I’ll be back in time to go to work in the morning?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Alright, sure,” you finally acquiesced. “I’d love to, thank you for inviting me.”

Jaemin offered his hand out to you then, and you placed your atop. He gave yours a light squeeze, “Just focus on me, Y/N. Just look in my eyes.”

“Okay?” You agreed despite your tone pitching it up into a question, unsure of why exactly he was asking you to do that.

Nevertheless, you settled your gaze on his eyes, even as he drew you in closer by the light grip on your hand. You gave him an awkward half-smile, unsure of what exactly to do as you just stared him directly in the eye. His dark eyes had a calming effect, however, as you felt your breathing even out and your heartbeat slow. This close to him, and being able to unabashedly look at him, you were entranced by the unearthly quality to his beauty. It should have been disquieting, this spectral vision in front of you, but you just found yourself drawn even closer in body and mind.

Then suddenly everything around you was darker, as if someone had dimmed your kitchen lights. The air was cooler too, and you had the suspicion that you were no longer in your kitchen. But you were still looking at Jaemin, just like you said you would.

He was looking right back at you, unflinchingly, and a fond smile crossed his lips before he announced quietly, “We’re here. You can look.”

And you finally tore your eyes from him to take in your new surroundings. It was dark, just like you’d noted before, as if it were nighttime. The room you were in had black floors, black walls, and at the very tippy top of the black vaulted ceiling, a black wrought iron chandelier with flames glowing... blue? But you couldn’t focus on the flickering up above you as Jaemin’s fingers entwined with yours and he gently tugged you towards the other side of the room.

“Come on, this way.”

It looked like you were maybe in an entrance hall of some sort. It was then that you spotted a large black throne adorned with silver detailing and embellishments at the front of the room. Jaemin kept walking right past it, though, down an adjoining hallway.

Your wide eyes that had been taking everything in turned downwards to your hand that was holding Jaemin’s. His skin was the usual coolness you had come to expect, and your fingertips brushed against the multitudes of rings on his fingers. Seeing the lone silver band on your hand, the one that he was holding, made your face hot for some reason.

You passed through another doorway into a dining room. It contained a large dining table crafted from dark walnut wood, the twelve high-back chairs around it made of the same. A deep red table runner went across the length of the tabletop, matching the upholstery of the chairs. A feast was already laid out, and place settings for two of the seats were prepared.

Jaemin let go of your hand to pull out a chair for you. You thanked him quietly as you sat down, eyes still scanning over the food options. He sat in the chair caddy-corner to yours, at the head of the table.

“Go ahead, Y/N,” Jaemin encouraged you as he reached forward to grab the bottle of wine that had been on the table as well.

“Everything looks... so good,” you said, not sure what to try first.

He uncorked the bottle, pouring the red wine into your glass first, then his. When he put the bottle down, you still hadn’t moved, too overwhelmed with all the delicious-looking choices.

“Do I need to make your plate for you?” He teased, already standing and grabbing your plate.

“This is good, you’ll probably like this one, oh you’re going to love this one, everyone likes that, mmm definitely not that,” he mumbled to himself as he loaded up your plate with food after food.

Your heart did flips as you looked up at him, the simple kindness of his actions making you feel warm despite the coolness of the Underworld.

Jaemin set your plate back down in front of you between your utensils, spoon on the far right, then the knife beside the plate, and the fork on the left. You waited for him to prepare his own plate of food, then finally be seated. When he’d finished scooting his chair up to table, he looked up from what he’d been doing, eyes catching yours, and a small, affectionate smile crossed his lips before he grabbed his wine glass. Then a wide, charismatic grin overtook his features as he held his glass out towards you, and you followed his lead, picking yours up to clink them together.

“To one month of… you and I. Thank you for agreeing to come here tonight, Y/N.”

‘You and I.’ His words both squeezed your chest and made it feel airy, like someone was inflating a balloon inside of it.

“Thank you for hosting tonight, Jaemin. And here’s to one month of…” you took a sharp inhale as you stumbled through your mind for any other word but couldn’t find one in that moment. “Us.”

You saw Jaemin’s pale lips softly, silently repeat the word before pulling into an alluring smirk.

And you each took a sip of the wine before digging into your food and kicking off the discussion. Over your month of dinners and nighttime socializing with Jaemin, you were used to your conversations meandering between the casual catching up of your workday to the serious contemplations of life and the universe. After all, if you were dining with a god, you were going to pick his brain for some philosophical inquiry. But on the days where some of the medical malpractice or domestic pro bono cases had hit you exceptionally hard and you wanted to leave well enough alone, Jaemin let you keep the topics light and surface level, keeping it at office gossip and the like.

Tonight though, with the special venue on your mind, you immediately delved into the existential, “So what are humans to you?”

“How do you mean?” Jaemin arched an eyebrow at your question.

“You’re a god. You’ve lived for thousands of years. You’ve seen millions of humans live and die. Surely, we all just kind of… blur together for you. Seem the same. Inconsequential.”

“No, not at all.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m here,” you teased before returning to your debate. “Most of us live and die without ever leaving a lasting impact on the world. Not that I think that’s necessary for having lived a meaningful or good life, I think that making even one person smile means that someone lived a good life. But in relation to you, a god, surely that makes us all indistinguishable from one another.”

“Is a play bad because it ends? Is a flower no longer beautiful because it will wilt? I think that humans and your lives are so intriguing because they’re finite.” He was as impassioned as ever when getting into your metaphysical dialogues— voice strong with resolve, leaning forward towards you earnestly, brow set just the slightest not with anger but determination, and hair falling into his onyx eyes that looked into yours without hesitation. “An incalculable but unquestionably limited amount of time, one chance, and each of you choose to live differently.”

“You still think that every human life is different from all the others?”

“Of course.” Apparently sensing that he hadn’t convinced you yet, Jaemin continued with an example, “Just look at you and your friend Jeno. Sure, the two of you converged pretty closely in college, but he made the choice to begin his career while you made the choice pursue higher education. Your two lives aren’t the same.”

“There’s also another major difference between the two of us.”

At the imploring tilt of his head, you deadpanned, “Only one of us made a deal with Hades for a third of our life.”

“An astute observation, Y/N,” Jaemin chuckled, relaxing back in his chair now that you’d changed up the tone of the conversation.

When both of your plates and glasses were empty, Jaemin took you by the hand once again to guide you from the dining room, as he apparently wanted to show you something. You emerged onto a patio of some sort, but that wasn’t what you were focused on. In front of you was a tree maybe ten or fifteen feet tall, an elegantly thin and sloping trunk, and along its many branches were round golden fruit the size of your palm. You couldn’t help the soft gasp that came from you as you took in the dazzling sight. Everything about the tree was normal from the texture of the brown bark to the dark green leaves, and even the dappling of the outer shell of the pomegranates that grew on it looked real, aside from the gilded color. It was magical, and you were happy just to know that something so beautiful existed.

“Thank you for showing me this, Jaemin,” you said, turning to look at the god who had stopped beside you.

You thought that he’d be looking at the scenery too, but his eyes were on you. He had a familiar look on his face, a small, tender smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, dark eyes holding a latent warmth like coals after a fire, and you felt tempted to get even closer to indulge in it.

But instead, you steeled your nerves to ask, “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

Your tone wasn’t as accusatory as your words were, it was a sincerely curious question.

“Like what?” Jaemin was quick to reply with a question of his own, keeping his attitude light but genuine.

“You keep smiling at me with this soft little smile.”

“I keep doing it? When was I doing it before?”

“When we first got here, when you sat down at dinner tonight, and just now, when you brought me out here.” It had made your heart go haywire every time you noticed it, so you were able to list the instances from tonight off the top of your head. But that wasn’t all, there was a reason why it was imprinted into the back of your eyelids like a burned-out LCD screen, “It’s like… like… you want to kiss me.”

“I do,” Jaemin declared, eyes never leaving yours, voice never wavering, so damn sure of himself. Even as you were here in front of him feeling like you were nearly ready to rip your hair out from just a few little smiles from him.

He was always like this. So charming, so smooth, playfully talking around your questions. Pulling you along with him, dancing with you through your conversation. You had to meet him head on, even if it felt like you were going crazy doing so. You did it during your dinners, you could do it now too.

“Is that why you’re smiling at me like that?”

“Do you want me to? Kiss you?” He took a step towards you. For a brief moment he was all you could see, all dark hair, dark eyes, and silver earrings.

“I want to know why you look at me like that.” You stepped back from him, wrapped in the heady smell of his cologne. Cinnamon, bergamot, an earthy scent too maybe? Your head was swimming with it, but you needed to focus on the conversation at hand.

“And I want to know if you want me to kiss you or not.” Another step, once again narrowing the distance between you.

“I asked first, Jaemin,” you poked your pointer finger against his chest as a warning. “An answer for an answer.”

He stayed put, seeming to be fighting a delighted smirk from his face as he looked between your face and the finger you held up defensively between the two of you. Jaemin’s features relaxed as he clasped his hands together behind his back, looking into your eyes earnestly, “All of those times that I’ve been looking at you tonight, I was thinking to myself, ‘It feels like she’s come home.’ You just looked like you belonged here, in my home, with me. It felt like I belonged with you. And that made me want to kiss you. That’s why.”

Of all the answers you had been expecting, that hadn’t quite been one of them. Grand declarations of love were a faraway possibility, sure, you’d seen movies before. That’s not what this was, though. This was both more and less. You hadn’t anticipated for Hades’ answer to be so simple yet all-soul-encompassing as the idea of coming home. While everything tonight had definitely been new and unfamiliar to you, you hadn’t been intimidated or uncomfortable in any way. With Jaemin at your side, you’d been able to take it all in with wonder and an open mind, knowing that you had him right there watching over you.

“I believe you owe me an answer now too, Y/N.” Jaemin’s voice was quiet, low, meant only for you. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

Your gaze fell to the finger you had to his chest, your right hand. It had lost all the force you started with, limp and simply resting against him. You could see the silver ring there, and lower on your arm was the bracelet he’d given you, both pieces of jewelry glinting in the hazy light afforded in the Underworld. You briefly wondered if they had come from here, from deep under the Earth; if they’d come home tonight, too. The god in front of you remained silent, waiting for your response. If there was one thing Jaemin was good at, it was waiting— after he’d given you his final push.

Then you finally looked back up at his face, into the sunken obsidian black that greeted you there. That ever-stubborn lock of raven hair was hanging between his brows, and you had a sudden and smitten urge to fix it. But you had something more important to do in that moment. After all, he’d given you his answer, now you owed him yours. And you’d made up your mind.

Your mouth had barely started forming around your answer before it was captured by Jaemin’s in a kiss that was equal parts tender and ravishing. It felt like he was trying to devour your ‘yes’ right off your tongue and keep it all to himself. Admittedly, your head had started nodding before your vocal cords could work.

If you thought you were swimming in spices and citrus before, you were drowning in them now. Cinnamon, oranges, and… cedar. Your hand that had previously been poking at his chest was now crumpling the collar of his dress shirt, the other hooking a finger in one of the belt loops at the front of his slacks to yank him closer. His own hands were doing their part, too. One cupped your cheek while the other held you by your waist. The sweetest nectar was being dripped into your veins, and you hungrily took more and more with each wanton kiss from Jaemin.

When his lips finally parted from yours, you couldn’t help but steal just one more kiss. He let out a breathy chuckle as he clasped a hand over the one you were grasping at his shirt with to gently pull it off, his thumb then rubbing slow circles into your palm. His hand that had been on your cheek dipped to gently grip your chin, and as he looked at you, you knew exactly what he was thinking.

“I’m home,” you promised.

The shadowy man was back in your dreams that night, and this time the golden fruit was already in your two hands. He was encouraging you to break it open, feed on its juicy flesh that he promises will taste so good.

You woke up before you could follow through on the decision you’d already made.

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[stkirk]

Feeling very doubtful of a lot of things including myself and my relationship and there’s nothing I can do about it except think I guess

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Mr. Gallagher and Me

Jim (The Delinquent Season) x Reader

A/n- I gave him a last name cause this story doesn't work without one lol

Prologue

Jim, a lecturer at Trinity College Dublin, has his initial introduction with his new T.A, Y/n.

September Working from home had become too much of a bore, that was why he’d jumped at the offer from the university. It was an opportunity to get out of his apartment and tear his tired eyes away from the computer, meet new people and distract himself from the shambles of his personal life. His kids were getting older and they needed him significantly less, Danielle had remarried, he and Orla had recently called it quits after two years together and Yvonne…..well he didn’t even want to think about her. Even if part of him did still love her, the part that was still clinging to the embers of something so beautiful that he’d single-handedly wrecked havoc on his marriage for it. But that was over, Jim was sure to remind himself of it as often as he could.

And when he wasn’t doing that or moping about a prematurely empty nest- a consequence of having split custody of teenagers- Jim was grading papers and planning lessons. At least then he was doing something productive. And he didn’t hate it, so that was great too.

Being a lecturer at the economics department at Trinity College Dublin had actually been much better than he’d anticipated; the faculty had been warm and welcoming, the students were mostly engaged and eager and the salary was hardly anything to complain about. Sure, the days were much longer when compared to his previous job, and returning to bed in the middle of the day had been taken off the table, but that might have been more of a blessing than a curse.

“Jim,” someone, the head of department he’d realized upon lifting his absent gaze, tapped the table to draw his waning attention, “With us?”

“Uh,” clearing his throat, he sat up and collected his glasses off the spot near his sleeping iPad, “Yeah, sorry, I was just…..never mind,” he dismissed, ‘What were you saying?” He, along with the rest of the department had gathered for the staff meeting that was typically held at the beginning of the first semester; the one where course specifics like the weighting of assessments and timetables were approved.

“I was saying that you’ve been here for two years, it’s time for you to start supervising postgraduate students.” Of course, he’d been teaching grad school courses, but supervising candidates, that was something else entirely and Jim wasn’t yet quite sure of how he felt about it

“Yeah, right,” he nodded despite his suppressed reservations, licking his lips, “I uh…I agree.”

“Great, you’ll also have a TA assigned to some of your courses,” Nadia, the department’s head smiled politely as she elaborated, “The influx of TA applications has been pretty small this year, much smaller than usual,” she seemed a little miffed by the fact, persisting with the twinge of annoyance laced in her words, “But I guess that’s expected, the pay isn’t very attractive,” she admitted, quickly shaking off her rambles as she proceeded, “So this year, I’ve decided to do things a little differently, one member of our faculty gets to work with one TA, I’ve taken the liberty of doing the assignments myself. If everyone checks their email you’ll see the applications of your new TA.”

A soft grumble ran through the small conference room, though, Jim hadn’t bothered to join in, much more inclined to check his inbox, giving the last incoming message a gentle tap with his pointer. The file attached, as promised, had opened up to the application of his new TA; a young woman in her mid twenties, enrolled in the two year program. Her picture proved that she was perhaps a lot more beautiful than he thought was appropriate to admit and after another handful of minutes, when he was through with skimming her research proposal he found maybe, just maybe, she seemed a lot more intelligent that the rest of the staff had given TAs credit for.

Y/n Y/l/n, if she was anything like her application suggested, his first time as a supervisor wouldn’t have been as bad as he’d been expected to believe after all.

Two Weeks Later. "Maybe you'll finally get to live out that kinky little fantasy of yours," Elaine teased from her end, the mirth in her tone proving that her words were nothing more than a joke between dear friends.

Playfully, even if her friend couldn't see it, Y/n rolled her eyes, "Yeah? And get myself and the poor guy kicked out of the university? No thank you," she was walking along the path that led to a building where the offices of the economics department were housed, free hand clutching the leather strap of her stylish tote and steps soft on the worn, concrete pathway.

"Who says anyone has to get kicked out?" Elaine continued, "No one has to know. Come on," she enticed, and Y/n swore she could see the wickedness in her friend's eyes, even if they were oceans and continents apart, "He's so hot."

They were talking about her new supervisor, the one she was having her first meeting with that very morning, "He could be so married," men that age, especially the ones with commendable careers and half decent personalities, usually were.

She heard Elaine scoff, "As if that's ever stopped anyone," and at the comment, Y/n chuckled. Upon entry, through the double glass doors, a blast of cold air sent a chill down her spine adding to autumn's already nippy temperature and Y/n tugged her coat closed. Despite her earlier jokes, her friend, the same one who'd pushed her to apply to the university and move a thousand miles away from San Francisco, sighed and her next words reflected a more somber tone, "Look, I just want you to have some fun, you know? Forget about…..he who shall not be named. Doesn't have to be with your hot supervisor, just…..anyone. Get out there, meet someone. Make a friend-"

"I have a friend," Y/n cut her off, referring to a map of the building mounted to the wall near the elevator. According to the email she'd gotten, her supervisor's office was on the fourth floor, a couple doors down from the department's main office, so all she had to do was find the department’s main office on that very confusing map. “We shared an apartment for four years and she’s always in my closet but it's fine, I love her anyway.”

“I don’t count,” Elaine countered, quickly correcting herself, “Well, I do count, obviously. I’m your best friend. But, as much as I’d love to have wine with you over FaceTime every night, I can’t show you Dublin from here and you didn’t travel all the way there just to stay home every night.”

“Ugh,” Y/n huffed, stepping into the elevator and pushing the appropriate button. The reception wasn’t the greatest from in there, but it was still good enough for her to continue the conversation, “Fine….maybe it would be nice to….” She thought about everything she’d read on the region, “Go to that literary pub crawl I read about. That could be fun.”

“It could be,” Elaine agreed, and the cool reflective doors were just sliding open so Y/n could step out onto the fourth floor, the flat heel of her black, ballet pump muting her footfalls on the worn tiles as she made her way down the hall, “Now all you have to do is make a friend…..maybe something more, who knows, and ask them to go with you.”

Y/n sighed again, shaking her head at Elaine’s obvious persistence, “I'll try,” she smiled faintly, stopping in front of a door marked simply with a brass name plate reading, "Jim Gallagher." "I gotta go El, I'm in front of his office."

"Oh, professor hottie," Elaine teased, re-assuming her typical lighthearted wickedness.

"Mr. Gallagher," Y/n corrected firmly, "I'll call you….." For a moment, Y/n contemplated the time difference, deciding that by the time she got home, Elaine would probably still be in bed, “Tomorrow?”

Elaine laughed, “Alright well, have fun and good luck on your first day!” A couple goodbyes later were met with Y/n hanging up and slipping her phone into her bag before bringing her fist to the sturdy oak door in three short knocks.

It took a minute, though not a second more, before a baritone was permeating the aged wood, beckoning Y/n inside, “It’s open, come in.”

Suddenly, the nerves that had formerly been well suppressed crept up on Y/n, settling in her stomach right as she was taking the cool silver handle in her unsteady grip. Even if she and Elaine had joked about how hot he was, she was finding it difficult to find that misplaced ease there. What if they didn’t get along? What if she was a terrible TA? What if packing up and moving countries wasn’t a good idea?

But it was too late to second guess the whole thing anyway.

Exhaling audibly, she turned the knob, peering inside curiously before even extending a foot past the threshold. At the sound of the door, the man behind the desk lifted his head, easing his glasses off and setting them on the keyboard of his laptop. Besides the sleek, neat looking device, his desk was littered with haphazardly packed files, pages spilling out from the sides on one end and what seemed to be graded scripts- presumably from summer school- on the other while a coffee mug and other academic paraphernalia were scattered amongst it. “Ah!” his face lit up in recognition, “Ms. Y/l/n, yes?”

“Yes,” Y/n nodded vigorously, “The new-”

“TA, I remember,” he managed a half smile, quite a charming look on his tired features. “Come in,” he ushered Y/n inside with a wave of his hand, standing upon her entry. He didn’t quite look like a lecturer she thought, at least, not anything like the ones at the university she’d attended before. He didn’t wear a tie or expensive blazer, appearing to have switched out simple suits for a ruggedly gorgeous sweater, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and dark slacks.

He didn’t introduce himself immediately, opting to pause, just for a handful of seconds and Y/n was enormously grateful because she was sure that if she’d even attempted any words right in that very moment, her first impression might have been that of an idiot. If she didn’t know any better, she’d have likened those minutes to one of those perfectly crafted cinematic moments out of a rom-com. A meet cute, at least, according to Buzzfeed.

And it didn’t help that Jim…..Mr. Gallagher was far more attractive than his staff profile on the school’s website had suggested- and it had suggested quite a bit.

“Uh….” He appeared to shake off whatever thoughts he’d been having, and Y/n had been too busy staring that she’d barely registered what his former expression might have meant. “Jim Gallagher,” he hastily offered his left hand.

Sucking in a breath and proceeding to clamp down on the inside of her cheek for a moment, Y/n took his offered hand. It was rough and his grip was firm, “Y/n Y/l/n, um….its nice to meet you,” despite her best efforts, a breathless smile broke her lips just as his persisting touch sent sparks up her spine.

“Yeah,” even after they’d introduced themselves, his hold on her hand continued and it took her loosening clutch for him to joke, “I reckon you’ll want this back.”

“Kind of, yeah,” she laughed softly, feeling her cheeks heat up. When Jim finally let go, Y/n licked her lips as she searched for anything to fill the new stretch of awkward silence. “So, uh-”

“I-” As if things couldn’t get anymore tense, they both started speaking at the same time, though, because Jim was her new boss, she encouraged him to continue first- she had no idea where her own sentence was going anyway. "I’ve read your proposal, twice actually,” he chuckled, “The effect of electronic currencies on the global economy, I’m really excited to work with you on it.”

Again, she felt warmth rush to her face and Y/n laughed anxiously, “Thank you, I’m looking forward to your guidance.” Once again, they lapsed into a bout of silence, though, after a couple of flustered moments, Y/n was the one to break it, “So, the email from Dr. Micheals said that I’d be accompanying you to lectures, setting them up and stuff?”

“Yeah, yeah," Jim nodded, swallowing thickly and slipping his hands into his pockets as he gravitated to his former seat, quickly offering a chair on the other side of his desk to Y/n, who in turn shuffled over to one of the two guest chairs. “You’ll be tutoring and leading discussion sessions, doing some grading and supervising exams, that sort of thing.” As he continued explaining the specifics of the job, the electricity that was evident just minutes earlier started to dissipate, giving way to a more professional environment. Her breath still caught when her eyes occasionally met his oceanic ones, but otherwise, as they settled in, so did the tension, like sand under a running stream.

From the moment they’d sat, Jim had found himself trying- and occasionally failing- to avoid meeting her eyes because every time he did, Jim felt his heart do a little jump. The picture attached to Y/n’s application was a good one, though, it hadn’t truly done her justice and from the moment Jim had met her in person, he’d started having a hard time seeing her as his student. It had been entirely shocking, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been immediately enamored; with his last relationships, it had been slow climbs towards intense attraction but with Y/n, it was like his better sense had gone out the window and at just the sight of her stunning smile, he was smitten.

A crush, that was perhaps word to put meaning to everything that was going on in Jim’s head, which undoubtedly made him feel absolutely ridiculous, not because of how much younger she was, or the fact that she was his underlying but because it had been a good twenty years since he’d had something as juvenile as a crush. He thought he preferred the term infatuation, though, it wasn’t much better because it still meant that just thirty minutes into his first interaction with Y/n he was broaching a possible ethical dilemma.

And of course, she seemed completely oblivious.

With his hands clasped together and settled in his lap, Jim twirled his thumbs around each other as he glazed over her responsibilities, while Y/n remained perched on one of the chairs on the other side of his cluttered desk, bag positioned in her lap and an expression of genuine interest painting her face. By the end of his watered down explanation, Y/n shifted in her seat and Jim asked if she had any questions, “Uh…” She ruminated for a moment, “Just…this all starts next week, right?”

“Right,” Jim nodded.

She appeared to hesitate for a minute before beginning again, “Okay, well maybe if you have some of the course material-”

“Right!” He cut her off, pushing off the back of his chair and leaning forward to shift some things around in the desk. He knew he’d been forgetting something and it was in times like those did Jim wish he was better at actually putting things into the cupboard in his office, most of the time he’d be inclined to just leave exam scripts, coursework essays and everything in between right there on his desk. It usually only served to annoy him, and crowd the space, “I have….here it is!” He declared triumphantly, weaning a file out from under a textbook and offering it to Y/n. “These are our courses for this semester. Timetable, locations, er, assignments, topics we’ll be covering, grading criteria, that kind of thing.” He’d poured hours into preparing it all a week earlier, desperately wanting his first time as a supervisor to go right. “I’ll email you everything else.”

Browsing the impressively detailed file, Y/n smiled, stealing an upwards glance and unwittingly causing their eyes to meet once again. Cue the little jump that he felt all the way in his stomach. “Mr. Gallagher, this is great, thank you,” just after she’d said it, Y/n returned her attention to the folder in her delicate looking hands, adorned with simple pieces of bohemian jewelry.

“Jim,” he corrected before his brain could fully register the thought, and Y/n glanced up again, that time with her brows raised in surprise, “You can call me Jim,” he explained quickly, unsure as to whether or not asking her to do that appropriate, “We’re adults,” he shrugged, thinking he’d chosen probably the most insubstantial reasoning, “It's just easier.”

“Uh-okay,” Y/n stuttered, taken aback, “Jim,” she tested his name on her tongue he couldn’t help his faint smile, “Thanks….for this, I mean,” she held up the folder a little higher.

“No problem…..” Should he call her by her first name? Was the unspoken rule that once you allowed someone to call you by your first name, they’d afforded you the same liberties? Jim didn't know.

Sensing his issue, she interjected, “You can call me Y/n,” she licked her lips as her lashes fluttered, “Adults, right?”

“Right,” Jim determined, allowing the word to be the last thing off his lips. For a while, they stewed in the awkwardness that was a wordless bout between strangers. It took her a while to speak up that time, and Jim was too caught up in his head to make conversation, and he only shook off his thoughts when Y/n finally mustered up the courage to ask if their meeting was over. Flustered, he said it was and apologized for keeping her, an apology which was politely dismissed.

As Y/n stood, Jim did too and in his haste to hurry to get the door for her, they bumped into each other; his chest making contact with her right shoulder. “Sorry,” they apologized in unison, both a little thrown off by the new proximity. “I’ll just…” Jim took the initiative of being the first to move after they’d spent a good thirty seconds like that, side stepping away from Y/n and resuming his brief trek to the door.

When she approached him, Y/n paused, turning so they were facing each other though with about half a foot of space between them. “I guess I’ll see you on Monday, Jim,” she stole a look at him through her thick, dark lashes, and all his clouded mind could do was think about how stunning she looked, just like that.

“Mhm,” he hummed, “See you Monday, Y/n,” foolishly, when she moved to step past the threshold, Jim reached out and offered the center of her back the lightest touch he could manage, ushering her out of his office.

Well that had certainly been a lapse in judgment.

As he’d done it though, Y/n turned and smiled, and Jim could have sworn he caught a deepening hue in her cheeks. Still, that didn’t really cut it as an ethical justification. When she disappeared down the hall and into the elevator, Jim finally shut the door, slipping his hands into his pockets as he walked towards his desk, turning to lean on the lip as he let one lonesome abstraction rattle around;

If he couldn’t leave their first meeting unscathed, how the hell was he going to get through the next two years?

*****

[renjunfromthestars]

work too much

Pairing: Mark + reader, Established relationship, Med School/Doctor!Mark (I can’t stop thinking about this omg)

Genre: Fluff, angst if you squint, and it’s me so a little bit of crack LOL

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.4k 

Summary: It’s the middle of Pandemic; there’s been a lot of changes to your life, but Mark is one of the only things that have always been constant, and you’re thankful for that. But Mark in typical Mark fashion is stressed and tends to over work himself, so you always try your best to support him in your own way

Can be read as an extension to more than or as a stand alone

Notes: proof read? ofc not. but I’ll say it once and I’ll say it again...Mark is a little awk and always works so hard (poor bby), so imagining him as a super stressed pre-med major (now Doctor!!) still absolutely wrecks me thank you goodbye 

---

When the pandemic hit, it was simultaneously a blessing and a curse. A blessing, because online school definitely saved your grades (chegg also played a supporting role in this). And a curse because you and 7 million people suddenly found yourselves in a pandemic, and a pretty serious one at that.

When the news first came out about a small viral breakout in China, you didn’t think much of it. You were scared shitless when news of a recurring Ebola epidemic came to your attention, WebMd-ing every symptom and prevention technique so obsessively to the point that Mark had to confiscate your laptop for a second. 

“Objectively it’s a really serious viral disease, but your chances of getting it are astronomically low. A vaccine was already developed since the first serious breakout in 2014. Plus, most of the cases are in Africa, and it’s very contained-” Mark stops. “Are you even listening?”

“I am,” you protest. “But I’m still going to be scared no matter what you say.”

Mark sighs, sitting back down on the couch after gently placing your laptop on the coffee table. 

He ruffles your hair playfully, and your frown only gets deeper. “You silly, silly girl. Take my word for it, you’re fine.”

To be honest, you really should, but anxiety doesn’t discriminate, not even when you have a very knowledgeable boyfriend in medical school.

When you snuggle into his side and wail jokingly (or are you?) about being afraid of dying for the 4th time that week, you can almost see the defeat flash in Mark’s eyes. Yet, he doesn’t complain, and tells you things are going to be okay while wrapping his arms around you comfortingly. 

For Mark, you’re eternally thankful. 

When the pandemic hit, you didn’t really mind quarantining. You had the necessities: toilet paper, a Netflix subscription, and Mark, not necessarily in order of importance of course. The early months of the pandemic gave you a perfect time to recharge from all the grad school craziness. What really drove you insane were the lack of people taking social distancing and quarantine orders with a grain of salt. Mark scolds you when you say it’s just another form of natural selection, that you like to think that those kinds of people peaked in high school. 

Mark on the other hand, is having the opposite experience, Because of the severity of the virus, he graduated from Med school a whole two months early to join other health care workers in the fight against covid. Mark is a smart guy; he’s cautious and plans accordingly-but you’re not going to lie- Mark being in the hospital scares you.

Although he doesn’t like to talk about it, you can tell things are stressful for him from the way his shoulders droop when he thinks you aren’t looking. Dark circles around his normally twinkling eyes, and you’re not even exaggerating when you think you see a white hair or two. 

Mark doesn't like to talk about it and you understand, instead showing your support through your actions; you time dinner so that it’s ready right when he comes home, and are sure to give him time to recharge on his own. Mark also has trouble sleeping at night because of his work schedule, so you ordered a white noise machine in an attempt to soothe him. It works, but the poor boy still looks stressed in his sleep, with his eyebrows slightly furrowed and tense. You consider asking him to take some time off from the hospital, but Mark has a big heart and you believe in him. It’s a big part of why you and Mark get along so well, you think,--you have an uncanny ability to know what the other needs, even if they aren’t necessarily aware of it.

“Are you mad at me?”

You’ve just switched off the light. At 8:30, it’s a little early for most people to go to bed but you don’t mind it- you know he’s exhausted, and you don’t want to pressure him to stay up. If it were up to you, you’d be watching Netflix all night. 

When you turn to look at him in the moonlight, he looks so worried that you feel your heart tighten a little.

“Of course not,” you frown. “What makes you say that?”

Mark scratches the back of his head. “It’s just that you haven’t really been talking as much to me lately. Because of the extra shifts I’ve been taking at the hospital lately, I know I haven’t been spending as much time with you, and I feel bad about it, I really do, so I understand why you’d be mad-”

As he rambles on, you deadpan a little. He seems so tightly strung it’s almost comical. When he notices you sighing, he almost combusts. 

“I’m really, really sorry (y/n). I promise I’ll make it up to you at a later time. You’re so important to me, I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking you for granted-” He stops when you reach across the covers to cradle his face.

You lean in to kiss him, and he’s so confused that it takes him a moment to close his eyes. 

His lips are a little chapped, but you don’t mind, instead making a metal note to buy him a little watermelon lip smackers later, and yes-lip smackers because imagining professional Doctor Mark using lip smackers is hilarious to you.

When you pull away, you’re nose to nose, foreheads touching. You’re both silent for a moment, a quiet understanding passing between you two.

“I love you so much,” he whispers. 

A smile begins to spread across your face. You know you shouldn’t tease him, but you do anyway.

“I know you do.”

“Tell me you love me too,” he almost whines, and you can’t help but stifle a laugh. 

“Don’t laugh, this is a serious matter,” he grumbles, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You give in, pecking him on the lips once more.

“You silly, silly boy. Of course I love you too. You don’t even need to ask.”

Mark closes his eyes, and when he mumbles something about not knowing what he’d do without you, your heart nearly melts. 

You close your eyes too, and as you both slowly drift to sleep, you think about how life's going good despite it’s new changes—pandemic and all. You have Mark, and that is something that will never change.

Bonus

Mark scratches the back of his head, glances at you, the little neon green tube in his hand, and then back at you. All you do is just beam at him.

“And?”

“Of course I love it, but uh, isn’t it a little girly?” he says sheepishly. 

You pinch his ear playfully and he turns the slightest shade of pink.

 “Don’t disrespect the lip smackers, it comes highly recommended not to mention coveted among almost every teenage girl.”

“But I’m not a teenage girl,” he mumbles, and you spring into action, mustering the most disappointed face you can.

They should honestly give you a honorary degree in acting, because when Mark looks at you, he might as well act like you just told him your dog just died.

He uncaps the little stick and quickly applies it all over his lips, rather intensely. When he looks back up at you, he flashes you the most awkward smile and thumbs up you’ve ever seen in your life. With his lips unusually pink and waxy from the over application, he looks like a clown, so what other choice do you have, but laugh. 

Mark catches on pretty quickly, and kisses you in retaliation; he tastes like watermelon.

“You’re an evil, evil girl,” he murmurs, “But I love you anyway.”

“All jokes aside, you’re going to actually use it right?” (you used your own hard earned money to get this for  him, a whole two dollars and twenty five not including tax )

“Of course I will. I love everything you give me.” (You know this is a lie, he doesn’t like it when you give him a smack on his butt.)

[margridarnauds]

Things I Wish I Had Known About Being A Celticist (Before Becoming One):

1. If you’re North American, you’re going to have to work twice as hard to get the same level of respect as your peers from Europe. Get used to that now, because it won’t get any easier as time goes on. You’re also going to very likely be in classes with people who, while not FLUENT in Gaeilge, have at least some background in it. This can be a blessing and a curse - The curse is that you have less of an idea of what’s going on, the blessing is that the professors will focus a lot of the tougher questions on them, at least at first. 

2. “So, do you have any Irish family?” You will be asked that question. All the time. If you’re North American or English. Unless you have, say, a grandma from Tipperary, the safest answer is always “No, not at all! I just love the literature/history/language/etc.” 

3. Love languages? You’re going to! On average, depending on your program, it’s likely that you’ll at least be learning two languages. At enough of a level where you can get pretty in-depth when it comes to the grammar. Most Old Irish experts are expected to know Old Irish, Middle Welsh (at least enough for comparative purposes), and German, with Latin often being brought in. You’ll also be expected to be able to comment on the development of Old Irish, Middle Irish, Early Modern Irish, and Gaeilge - It’s essential if you’re going to date texts. There are also multiple other Celtic languages (Breton, Manx, Cornish, Scottish) that, while they might not be ESSENTIAL for whatever you’re doing, are still going to be cropping up at different times for comparison purposes - I’d be lying if I said I knew them WELL, and most people tend to stick fairly firmly to their area, BUT you will probably be learning at least a little of them. (Personally, no one asked me, but I honestly think that I couldn’t call myself a Celticist if I just knew one Celtic language, it’s why a longterm goal of mine is to build up as much knowledge of the others as I can.)  I’ve seen quite a few scholars go in thinking that the linguistics part won’t be important, only to be slammed by the program early on. Even if you just want to do literary analysis, you’re going to have to explain the meaning and development of individual words, as well as situating it in the broader scope of the development of your language of choice. (IE “This is a ninth century text, and we know that because it has intact deponent verbs, the neuter article’s dying out, and no independent object pronoun. Also everything’s on fire because Vikings.”)

4. You’re very likely going to have to move. This applies mainly for North Americans who want to do it (unless you happen to live directly in, say, Toronto or Boston, in which case ignore what I said and, Bostonians, polish off your GREs and prepare to listen to Legally Blonde the Musical on repeat because you’re going to be applying for Harvard). There are very few Celtic Studies programs in the world and, in general, most of the major programs, sensibly, are in Celtic-speaking countries - So, if you want to study Scottish, you go to Scotland, you want Irish, you go to Ireland, Welsh in Wales, etc. If you already wanted to move to Europe for a year or two while you’re doing your MA, then great (and for EU students this doesn’t apply, since they can relocate much easier...unless they were planning on going to the UK in which case.....my condolences), but if you didn’t have any sudden plans to move, keep it in mind. From an American perspective, it was literally cheaper to move to Ireland and do my MA there than to deal with the school system here, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t other inconveniences associated with moving to another country. Even if you’re European, the field is fickle - An Irish scholar might find themselves moving to Scotland, an English scholar might find themselves moving to Ireland, etc. etc. These things happen when you have to take what you can get. 

5. You don’t need Old Irish to go for your MA in Celtic Studies. You do not need Old Irish to go for your MA in Celtic Studies. When I first applied for my MA, I thought I didn’t have a chance because I had a general Humanities degree and didn’t have any formal experience with a Celtic language, least of all Old Irish. As it turns out, most programs do not expect you to have a background in this sort of thing beforehand, and quite a few have different programs for those who have a background in this stuff VS those who don’t, so don’t feel, if this is what you REALLY want to do, like you can’t just because of that. Show your passion for the field in your application, talk a little about the texts you’ve studied, angles you’re interested in, etc., make it the best application you can, and you still have a shot even without Old Irish (or, for non-Irish potential Celticists, whatever your target is.)  

6. It’s competitive - Just because you get your MA, PhD programs are fewer and farer between. Academia in general isn’t known for its phenomenal job security, but Celtic Studies in particular is very fragile, since we generally are seen as low priority even among the Humanities programs (which, in general, are the first to be axed anyway.) If you focus on medieval languages as opposed to modern ones, you might very well find your program ranked lower in priority than your colleagues in the modern departments. Especially since COVID has gutted many universities’ income. I found that getting into a MA program was significantly easier than planning on what to do afterwards, since, for a PhD, you generally have to go someplace that can pay you at least some amount of money. Going into your PhD without any departmental funding is a recipe for burnout and bankruptcy, and there are very few Celtic Studies programs that can pay. Doesn’t mean you can’t try, and, when paid PhDs become available, they tend to be quite well publicized on Celtic Studies Twitter/Facebook, but keep in mind that you’ll be in a very competitive market. Networking is key - Your MA is your time to shine and get those treasured letters of rec so that you can get that sweet, sweet institutional funding for your PhD. 

7. You’re very likely not actually going to teach Celtic Studies. Because there are so few teaching positions available worldwide, it’s much more likely that you’ll be teaching general Humanities/Composition/etc. This doesn’t mean that you’ll be giving up Celtic Studies (conferences are always going to be open, you don’t have to stay in one department for your entire life and can snag a position when it becomes available, and, even if you go outside of academia, the tourism industry...well, it was looking for Celticists, before The Plague), it just means that if teaching it is what you REALLY want to do with your life, it might be good to check your expectations. A few programs even have an option where you can essentially double major for the sake of job security. (So, if you always wanted to be the world’s first French Revolution historian/Celticist/Gothic Literature triple threat......................the amount of reading you’d have to do would likely drive you insane but................)

8. Make nice with your department. Make nice with your department. Celtic Studies departments tend to be small and concentrated, so you’re going to be knowing everyone quite well by the end of your first grad degree, at least. You don’t have to like everyone in it, but they aren’t just your classmates, they’re your colleagues. You will be seeing at least some of their faces for the rest of your life. I can say that my MA department remembered students who left the program a decade ago. Your department is supposed to have your back, and they can be an invaluable source of support when you need it the most, since they understand the program and what it entails better than anyone else can. You’ll need them for everything from moral support to getting you pdfs of That One Article From A Long Discontinued Journal From The 1970s. I’ve seen students who made an ass of themselves to the department - Their classmates remembered them five years later. Don’t be that guy. Have fun, go to the holiday dinners, get to know people, ask about their work, attend the “voluntary” seminars and lectures, and do not make an ass of yourself. That is how you find yourself jumping from PhD program to PhD program because your old professors “forgot” your letter of rec until the day after the deadline. Also, since your departments are small and concentrated, it’s a good idea to prepare to separate your social media for your personal stuff vs your academics as much as you can, since it won’t be too hard to track you down if people just know that you do Celtic Studies. 

9. Some areas of the field are more respected than others. If you want to do work on the legal or ecclesiastical aspects, excellent. If you want to focus on the linguistic elements, excellent. If you’re here for literature.....there’s a place, though you’re going to have to make damned sure to back it up with linguistic and historical evidence. (There’s less theory for theory’s sake, though theoretical approaches are slowly gaining more acceptance.) But if you’re here for mythography or comparative approaches...there is a PLACE for you, but it’s a little dustier than the others. There are fewer programs willing to outright teach mythology, mainly because it’s seen as outdated and unorthodox, especially since the term itself in a Celtic context is controversial. Pursue it, God knows we need the support, but just...be prepared to mute a lot of your academic social media. And, really, your social media in general. And have a defense prepared ahead of time. With citations. Frankly, I think my Bitch Levels have gone up a solid 50% since getting into this area, because consistently seeing the blue checkmarks on Twitter acting like you’re not doing real work while you’re knees deep in a five volume genealogical tract tends to do that to you. If it ever seems like I go overboard with the citations when it comes to talking about the Mythological Cycle, this is why - I have to. It’s how I maintain what legitimacy I have. I’d still do it if I’d have known, but I would have appreciated the heads up. (On the plus side - It means that, in those few programs that DO teach mythology, you’re golden, because they want all the serious students they can get.) 

10. If you really, really love it, it’s worth it. After all this, you’re probably wondering why anyone would sign on for this. The work’s grueling and often unrewarding, you might or might not get respect for what you do based off of where you were born and what your interests are, and you’re subject to an incredibly unpredictable job market so you might never see any material compensation for all of it. But, if you can check your expectations of becoming rich off of it, if all you REALLY want to do is chase it as far as it can go, then it’s worth it. There’s a lot of work to be done, so you don’t have to worry too much about trotting over the same thing that a dozen scholars have already done. You might get the chance to be the very first person, for example, to crack into a text that no one’s read for over a thousand years, or you might totally re-analyze something because the last person to look at it did it in the 19th century, or you might get to be the first person to look at an angle for a text or figure that no one’s considered. If finding a reference to your favorite person in a single annal from the 17th century makes you walk on air for the entire day, then you might very well be the sort of person the field needs. 

[yourfavewriteress]

smiling at strangers | travis konecny

Teaser: “Following me, Travis?”

As I left my apartment, my phone began ringing in my hand. I cursed to myself, quickly answering and holding it between my ear and shoulder. 

“Hello?” I locked my door before turning towards the elevator.

“Hi, do I have Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Yes, this is she. Can I ask who’s calling?”  

“Hi, Y/N, it’s Jessie from Pennsylvania Hospital,” I heard on the other line.

“Oh, Jessie, yes, how are you?” I breathed. 

“I’m great, and yourself?”

“I’m well, thanks.”

“I was just calling to give you a big congratulations! You got the job here at the hospital!”

“Really?” I exclaimed, looking around to make sure I was alone.

“Yes, really,” She laughed. “None of the other applicants were able to connect with patients as quickly as you did and your grades have always been stellar. You’re a perfect fit!”

I stepped onto the elevator as it arrived, pressing the lobby button. “Thank you so much, this means everything to me.”

“Well, I’m excited to work with you. I’ll be emailing you the next steps.”

“Okay, thanks again.”

“Bye, bye.” I hung up the call, smiling widely to myself. The elevator came to a stop on a floor, opening. I lifted my head, my eyes landing on the man that was standing there on his phone. He was wearing a long coat, with a white button up on and black slacks. His hair was put down under a beanie.

He looked up as he stepped on, smiling as soon as we locked eyes. “That’s a hell of a smile.”

“I just got my dream job,” I responded, immediately regretting it. “And, you did not need to know that. Sorry.”

He chuckled, leaning against the wall. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” I flushed, brushing my hair behind my ear before looking at the floors. I noticed we still had over fifteen floors to go down. And, that the man was still looking at me. 

“You live in this building?” He asked after a few moments.

I looked over him, nodding. “You?”

“Yeah, 20th floor.”

“23rd,” I responded. 

“I’ve never seen you before,” He said.

“Well, there’s a lot of people in the building, right?”

“Fair,” He laughed, just as we reached the lobby. I moved to step off.

“Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” He smiled as I got off. I quickly made my way out of the building, finally breathing. 

**** “I can’t believe you guys dragged me out,” I huffed, getting out of the car. I smoothed my outfit down as my friends Taylor and Annie left the Uber.

“Are you kidding? You just got your fancy job, I got a 98 on my exam,” Annie cheered, placing her hands on my shoulders and shaking me gently.

“And, I have nothing that special going on but I had amazing sex right before this!” Taylor laughed.

I rolled my eyes, “You guys are a mess.”

“Come on, lighten up,” Annie wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “We’re gonna get you laid tonight.”

“No, you’re not,” I laughed. “Get me drunk but do not let me sleep with anyone.”

“We’ll see,” They both grabbed arms, pulling me inside the local bar. It was more packed than usual but we had no problem finding a table for the three of us. 

“Okay, on the agenda for tonight,” I said to them, smirking. “Drink, dance, drink more, drink even more, maybe makeout with someone, drink, dance, then go home.”

“I told you tonight was the night to play,” Annie laughed. 

“I’m gonna get our first three rounds,” Taylor said before leaving the table.

I settled beside Annie, looking around the bar. “There are some cute guys for you.”

“Shut up,” She rolled her eyes. “If anyone needs anything, it’s you.”

“Hey, I take very good care of myself,” I responded. “If anyone wants to do anything about that, they can. I’m waiting.”

As if on cue, I looked to the entrance to see the elevator guy walk in with a couple of guys that looked exactly like the typical athletes. Fit, well-dressed, and hot. 

“Who’s that?” Annie asked, following my gaze.

“No one,” I shook my head. “I awkwardly smiled at him in the elevator in my building earlier today.”

“Sounds like you.” I nudged her arm, rolling my eyes. Taylor appeared again with the shots, taking her place at the table.

“These freaking hot ass guys just walked in and I almost forgot I was seeing someone,” She laughed.

“I met one of them in the elevator today,” I said, grabbing my shots.

“Thank god, you need it,” She responded. “Little Fifty Shades action?”

“Can you guys stop?” I blushed. “I’m happily single.”

“Whatever.” We took our shots before making our way to the dance floor. Within a few songs, the buzz took over and I could hardly feel anything besides the beat of the music and the smile on my face. 

“I need to get a mixed drink, those shots killed me,” I said to both of them before making my way to the bar. I found an empty stool and I sat, waiting for the bartender’s attention. 

I was looking ahead as I felt someone sit on the stool next to me. Turning my body to the side I blushed brightly, “Hi.”

The man from the elevator smiled over at me, “Hey.”

“Fancy seeing you here,” I said.

“I could say the same for you,” He laughed, holding his hand out to me. “I never said, but I’m Travis.”

“Y/N,” I shook his hand. “Following me, Travis?”

“You wish,” He smirked, making me laugh.

“Now, you wish.”

“Well, Y/N, what can I get you in celebration of that dream job of yours?”

I laughed, “I’m surprised you remember that. That was weird.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “I didn’t think it was weird.”

“Really? The elevator opens and I’m standing there smiling?”

“Like I said before, it was quite the smile,” He responded. I searched his face as he smiled softly at me.

“Thank you.” I was sure my cheeks were bright red at that point under his stare, but the bartender appeared, nodding at me.

“What can I get you?”

“Moscow mule, please.”

“Another beer, thanks.” The bartender nodded before disappearing again.

“So, where are you from?” I asked.

“Canada, actually,” He said. “But, I play hockey for the Flyers.”

“Ah, you’re a hockey player,” I nodded. “That must be exciting every night.”

“Yeah, I can’t complain,” He shrugged. “Tell me about this dream job.”

“It’s kind of a complicated thing,” I said. “I’m basically like a psychologist for Pennsylvania Hospital and I’m going to be working mostly in the E.R.”

“Shit,” He raised his eyebrows. “You have to be smart to do that, eh?”

“Uh, I guess so?” I shrugged. “But, it’s the perfect job for me. I have a little boring office work, but most of it in the E.R. with patients, non stop moving. If I was stuck behind a desk like the other jobs I applied for, I would be miserable.”

He laughed, “So, you have a lot of energy, then?”

“You could say that,” I blushed. “I finally feel like I know what I’m doing with my life.”

“That’s a good thing,” He smiled.

“What about you?”

“What? I just play hockey,” He laughed.

“Yeah, but is it your dream job?”

“I would say so,” He responded. “Haven’t really dreamed about anything else. How long have you been in Philly?”

“A couple of years, I moved here for grad school and never really left,” I shrugged. “Have you always been with the Flyers?”

“Yeah, they drafted me,” He nodded. The bartender came with our drinks and we thanked him.

“Well, to your new job,” He smirked, raising his beer. “And, me finally getting your name because I wanted to die when you walked off the elevator without me asking.”

I laughed, rolling my eyes but returning his toast. I took a sip of my drink, “Why didn’t you ask on the elevator?”

He shrugged, but I watched as he blushed slightly. “I don’t know, I’m pretty sure I was shitting myself.”

“Why?” I furrowed my eyebrows.

“You were smiling as soon as the doors opened,” He chuckled. “It was hard to focus after that.”

“Hey,” I heard from beside me before Annie came into my view. “I’m really sorry to interrupt, but Taylor is on the phone with Blake and I’m lonely.”

I laughed, “Two seconds.”

She nodded, before disappearing in the crowd.

“My friends are requesting my presence,” I said to Travis.

“Understood,” He smiled. 

“I’ll definitely see you around, right?”

He looked surprised as he responded, “Yeah, definitely.”

I grabbed my drink before making my way back to our table.

“Okay, tell me everything,” Annie smirked as I relaxed in my seat.

**** “Everyone’s sure they have everything?” I asked, pulling Annie with me outside. She giggled, squeezing my hand.

“I hope.”

“Okay, Taylor, the Uber,” I instructed. 

“My phone’s dead.”

I groaned, moving Annie so that I could reach my phone. 

“I’m so excited to get in my bed,” Taylor laughed, making Annie laugh in response. “Wait, Y/N, are you drunk?”

“Yes, but not as much as you guys,” I mumbled, trying to understand the words on my phone as they were slightly spinning.

I could faintly hear my name being called as I opened the Uber app. It wasn’t until I felt Taylor pinch me from behind that I looked up. I hiccuped in shock, seeing Travis standing in front of me, smiling.

“Sorry, I thought you could hear me,” He said, sheepishly.

“Oh, no, sorry, what happened?” I turned around to make sure the girls were good before I stepped closer to him.

“I asked if you wanted a ride, back to the building? I’m leaving now, too.”

“Oh, ugh, I have to get them and myself home. So, I wouldn’t want to put that on you,” I responded. He looked back at Taylor and Annie.

“I don’t mind,” He shrugged. “Are you guys all going back to the building or do you need to make stops?”

“Stops, but they live on the way back to the building. I really don’t want to bother you, though,” I mumbled.

“It’s not a bother, it’s on the way,” He smiled. “Are you guys ready?”

“Yeah, hold on.” He nodded as I turned back to the girls.

“Guys, Travis is gonna take us home,” I mumbled to them. “The guy I met in the elevator today.”

“Thank god,” Taylor said, moving past me.

“Hi, Travis, I’m Taylor,” She said.

“Hey,” He responded, shaking her extended hand. 

“And, this is Annie,” I said, wrapping my arm around her waist.

“Nice to meet you, Annie,” Travis responded. “Do you need help? My car is right here.”

He led us to his car, opening the back door. I helped Taylor and Annie get in and before I could get in, too, Annie pushed me back.

“Ah, ah, ah, shotgun. You’re not slick,” She whispered to me so that Travis couldn’t hear. I rolled my eyes, backing away and closing the door.

“Good?” Travis asked, opening the passenger door for me.

“Yes, thank you again. You really don’t have to do this,” He smiled in response, motioning towards the car. I got in before he closed it.

“If nothing happens, at least get his number,” Taylor said from the back as Travis walked over to the driver’s side.

“Guys, shut up.” I huffed, as he opened the door. I watched as he got in and I did my best not to drool over him. Turning to face forward, I blushed.

“Alright, you guys gotta tell me where to go,” He said, starting the car. Since the girls were more drunk than myself, I was Travis’ GPS, directing him to make turns when necessary. We dropped Taylor off first, who could make it inside alone, but when we pulled up to Annie’s, I unbuckled my seatbelt.

“She’s had the most out of all of us, so I should probably make sure she gets inside,” I said to Travis.

“I’ll wait here,” He nodded. I got out, helping Annie out as well.

“You good?” I asked her as we approached her door.

“Mhm, you didn’t have to get out,” She mumbled, looking for her keys. “He’s cute up close, though.”

I laughed, “Yeah, he is pretty cute.”

“You should ask him out,” She said. “I haven’t seen you blush around a guy in awhile.”

“I know, which is why I’m trying not to. But it’s kind of hard,” I blushed again.

She chuckled as she opened her door and turned her hallway light on. “The fact that you’re blushing to me about him already tells me what I need to know. Hopefully, you’ll be seeing a lot more of him. Now go, I’m fine.”

“I’ll text when I get home.” I closed her door, before quickly walking back to Travis’ car.

“And, then there were two,” I breathed, closing the door and reaching to buckle my seatbelt again.

He laughed. “You’re a good friend.”

“They’re good friends,” I corrected. “Where did all your friends go, by the way?”

“Most of them carpooled or went to some girls’ place,” He shrugged.

“Hm,” I hummed. We rode back to our building in a comfortable silence, the light buzz of the radio sounding throughout the car. Within a few minutes, Travis was pulling into the parking garage.

“So, tell me,” Travis said as we both exited his car. “Should I be worried about a boyfriend, husband, or anything?”

I blushed, crossing my arms over my chest as we walked side-by-side. 

“No.” 

He looked over at me, grinning, “Good.”

“Do you have a wife or something?” I asked, hearing the thud of my heart in my chest.

He pulled open the door, looking down at me. “Not at all.” I walked ahead of him, stepping inside. 

“Y/N, Travis, I didn't know you two knew each other,” Allen, our doorkeeper smiled up at us.

“Hi, Allen,” I waved.

“What’s up, Allen?” Travis smiled, greeting him. “And, I’m very happy to say we met today.”

“Ah, I see,” Allen nodded, turning to me. “Hope it was a good meeting.”

“It was,” I said, narrowing my eyes at his smirk. In the years that I've been living in the building, I made sure to always stop and chat with Allen since he would probably be seeing me every day. Through this, we had built quite the friendship that he knows I’m very much desperately single.

“Well, goodnight guys.”

“Night, man,” Travis said, before hitting the elevator button. When the doors opened, we stepped on.

“23, right?” I nodded, leaning against the wall. “Is it okay if I walk you to your door?”

“Travis, you just gave me a ride home,” I blushed. “You don’t have to.”

“But, if I want to?”

I nodded, “Yeah, you can.”

We waited as the elevator brought us up to my floor. 

“Thank you again for getting my friends and I home, you’re a lifesaver,” I said as we walked towards my door.

“It’s no biggie,” He shrugged. “I’m kind of happy I ran into you at the bar, though.”

“Yeah, same,” I admitted.

“So,” We stopped as we reached my door. “Would it be too forward if I asked you for a date?”

“I’m not sure, you might just have to try it out and see,” I smiled at him.

"You’re something else,” He laughed. “Would you like to go out with me sometime?”

“Hmm,” I hummed, making him roll his eyes. I watched as he fought back a smile, leaning against the wall. “That would be fun, I think.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Travis,” I responded. 

“Tomorrow at 8?” He offered. “If you’re not busy.”

“Okay, that sounds good,” I nodded.

“I’ll pick you up, here, then,” He stood up straight off the wall.

“Goodnight, Travis,” I smiled.

“Goodnight,” He grinned. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”