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oscinhaslandito · 6 months ago

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COFFEE AND CHEMISTRY

The First Encounter:

Y/N sighed as she entered the university library, clutching her laptop and a half-drunk iced coffee. She spotted Oscar Piastri, her senior and brother’s best friend, sitting at a corner table, engrossed in his code. Lando had texted her earlier: "Go find Osc, he's at the library. Tell him to eat or something."

She hesitated before approaching, feeling a bit awkward interrupting him. "Hey, Oscar. Lando sent me to... check on you?"

Oscar looked up, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Classic Lando. You’re his messenger now?"

"Apparently. Also, can I sit here? The Wi-Fi is awful everywhere else," she asked, already pulling out her chair, though her voice held a slight edge of hesitation.

"Go ahead," he said with a shrug, sliding his notes aside to make space.

She noticed the assortment of neatly arranged notes and the faint smell of coffee around him. Settling down, she opened her laptop and glanced at him, realizing this might not be as awkward as she thought. Over the next hour, they worked in parallel, occasionally exchanging a word or two, and by the time Y/N packed up, she was surprised at how comfortable she felt.

Study Sessions:

Their study sessions became a routine. Every other day, Y/N would find herself at the same table with Oscar, their laptops open and the occasional sound of typing filling the air. He would guide her through complex algorithms, his calm explanations cutting through her frustration.

"Wait, so if I just refactor this part of the code, it works?" she asked, her eyes wide with realization. She clicked a few keys, and the once-buggy program finally ran smoothly.

"Exactly," Oscar said, his tone patient. "It’s just cleaner and more efficient this way."

Y/N threw her hands up in mock surrender. "I owe you my GPA," she said dramatically, earning a quiet chuckle from him.

"You’re figuring it out yourself. I’m just nudging you in the right direction," he replied, but there was a hint of pride in his voice. "Wow, you're like my guardian mentor."

Oscar looked at her with a confused raise of brow. "Guardian mentor?"

She looked way too proud of her words, "Yeah, like a Guardian Angel who helps me study. That's a Guardian Mentor."

Over time, her confidence grew. She started solving problems faster, but still turned to him when she hit a wall. Those moments became less about solving the problem and more about the comfort of knowing someone had her back. Sometimes, they’d take short breaks, sharing stories about classes or laughing over ridiculous memes Y/N found. Each session felt less like a chore and more like a shared ritual.

The Comfortable Silences:

Not every session was filled with conversation. Sometimes, they’d sit in companionable silence, the only sounds being the tapping of keys and the occasional flip of a page. It was oddly comforting. Y/N found herself appreciating Oscar’s quiet focus and the subtle way he’d glance at her screen, checking on her progress without saying a word.

On one of those silent nights, she looked up and found him staring at the ceiling, his pen tapping lightly against his notebook. "Penny for your thoughts?" she asked, breaking the silence.

He shrugged, offering her a small smile. "Just wondering if I’ll survive my final project."

"If you don’t, who’s going to help me with mine?" she teased, earning a chuckle.

Occasionally, the silence was punctuated by shared snacks or the soft sound of Oscar humming absentmindedly. It was in these moments that Y/N realized how much she enjoyed his company, even without words.

The Breakthrough:

When Y/N finally completed a particularly tricky assignment, she nearly jumped out of her seat, earning a glare from the librarian.

"It works! Oscar, look!" she whispered excitedly, pointing at her screen.

He leaned over, his shoulder brushing hers as he checked her work. A proud smile spread across his face. "Told you you’d get it."

"Team effort," she said, grinning. "You’re like my coding guardian angel."

Lando, who had just arrived with snacks, raised his hands in mock celebration. "Hallelujah, the nerds have triumphed! Let’s commemorate this moment with pizza."

"Deal," Y/N said, laughing.

"You know," Lando added, "I feel like I deserve some credit for this too. I’m the one who made you two start studying together."

"Sure, Lando," Y/N said, rolling her eyes. "Your contribution was invaluable."

Oscar smirked. "The moral support was life-changing."

Lando grinned. "Exactly. Glad you both finally see it."

Later that night, as they walked back to their dorms, Y/N turned to Oscar. "Thanks for always helping me. I don’t think I would’ve gotten through this semester without you."

"Anytime," he replied softly, his gaze lingering on her a moment longer than usual.

The Late Nights:

Their study sessions often stretched into the late evenings. The library’s quiet hum became their soundtrack as they worked under the soft glow of desk lamps. On one particularly late night, Y/N’s head started to droop, her notes blurring before her eyes.

Oscar noticed, nudging her gently with his elbow. "You’re falling asleep," he said softly.

"Am not," she mumbled, her eyes half-closed.

"Come on," he said, packing up her things. "I’ll walk you back to your dorm."

"You’re too nice," she murmured, already half-asleep as they walked through the empty campus.

"Someone’s gotta look out for you," he replied, his voice low but warm. The quiet night air seemed to hold something unspoken between them.

The Little Gestures and Moments:

One evening, Y/N’s iced coffee was running low, and Oscar excused himself for a break. He returned with a fresh cup for her, setting it down without a word.

"Thought you’d need it," he said simply, his tone casual.

She blinked up at him, touched by the gesture. "Thanks, Osc."

Before she could say more, Lando sauntered over, smirking. "Well, aren’t you thoughtful?" he said, plopping into a seat.

Oscar rolled his eyes. "Don’t make it weird."

"Too late," Lando quipped, winking at Y/N.

The next day, Lando’s teasing escalated. "So, Osc, is this your secret way of wooing her? Coffee runs and all?"

"It’s called being polite," Oscar replied, though his ears turned slightly red.

Y/N groaned. "Lando, stop embarrassing him—and me!"

"Never," Lando said, grinning. "It’s my brotherly duty."

Later, as Oscar handed her a printout she needed, Lando chimed in, "Oh, a printout too? What’s next, love letters?"

Y/N threw a pen at him. "Out. Now."

Lando left, laughing, but not before saying, "I’m just saying—romance isn’t dead!"

Oscar started leaving small sticky notes with helpful tips or encouraging words on her desk when she wasn’t looking. One read, "You’ve got this! - OP." Y/N couldn’t help but smile, saving the notes in her notebook.

Between the teasing and late-night sessions, it was the small moments that stood out. The way Oscar would share his notes without hesitation, or how Y/N would save him a seat during crowded study hours. The way their hands would occasionally brush when reaching for a pen, lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

It was in those fleeting touches and quiet smiles that an unspoken bond began to grow. Neither of them said anything, but both felt it. One evening, as Y/N leaned over to grab her bag, Oscar absentmindedly tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She froze for a moment, their eyes meeting, before he quickly pulled back, his cheeks tinged with pink.

The Lando Fiasco:

Lando occasionally joined them, his presence like a whirlwind that disrupted their serene environment. He would sprawl out in a chair, his arms crossed behind his head and a bag of snacks on the table.

"You two look like an ad for academic excellence," he teased, tossing a gummy bear at Y/N. "Do you ever do normal things, or is it all code and coffee?"

"Yeah yeah, we get it we're nerdy. Blah blah blah," Y/N rolled her eyes, catching the gummy bear and popping it into her mouth.

He chuckled, looking amused, "But seriously, don’t let Oscar turn you into a full-blown nerd," Lando added, smirking at his best friend.

Oscar smirked back, his tone deadpan. "She’s already better at debugging than you ever were."

"Rude," Lando replied, pretending to be offended. "I was just giving her the opportunity to shine. You’re welcome, Y/N."

Another time, Lando leaned over to peer at Y/N’s screen. "What are you even doing? That looks like an alien language."

"It’s called programming, Lando," she replied dryly.

"Yeah, and it’s definitely not for humans," he quipped. "Osc, how do you even understand this stuff?"

Oscar shrugged. "It’s just practice. You could learn it if you tried."

Lando snorted. "I’ll stick to spreadsheets, thanks."

Sometimes, his interruptions turned into rambling monologues about business strategies or bizarre hypotheticals. One evening, he sprawled across the table dramatically. "If I get a friend to create an app for matchmaking nerds, would you two be my test subjects?"

Y/N groaned. "Lando, we’re trying to focus."

Oscar, without looking up, replied just so Lando wouldn't bug them further, "Only if you promise to never bring this up again."

Lando grinned. "Deal. But you’d owe me royalties if it works."

He also had a knack for sneaking pictures of them studying. "Just documenting the nerd life," he’d say, showing them a candid shot of Oscar leaning over to help Y/N with a problem. "For the memories."

"So, when are you two gonna start dating?" Lando asked one day, casually leaning against the table.

Y/N choked on her coffee, and Oscar’s ears turned red.

"What? We’re just studying," Y/N protested, her voice a mix of embarrassment and disbelief.

"Sure, and I love pescatarians," Lando said, grinning. "Seriously, Osc, you’re basically already part of the family. Just make it official."

Oscar cleared his throat, trying to regain composure. "You’re unbelievable."

"And you’re avoiding the question," Lando shot back, his teasing grin widening.

Later, when Y/N had stepped away to go to class, Lando leaned closer to Oscar. "Just so you know, if you hurt her, you’ll have to deal with me."

Oscar’s expression softened. "I’d never do that."

Lando nodded, his usual playful demeanor giving way to sincerity for a moment. "Good."

On another day, Lando orchestrated a "random" movie night, conveniently inviting just the two of them. "Oops, looks like I’m busy tonight," he said, feigning regret. "Guess it’s just you two."

Y/N glared at him. "You’re the least subtle person ever."

"You’re welcome," Lando said, unabashed.

His meddling didn’t stop there. He started dropping hints to their mutual friends, ensuring they’d all conveniently "notice" how close Oscar and Y/N were. "Don’t you think they’d make a cute couple?" he’d say, grinning mischievously.

Lando’s teasing, it was clear to everyone—especially Lando—that there was something special about their dynamic. Whether it was the way Oscar’s gaze softened when Y/N talked about her goals, or how Y/N instinctively turned to Oscar for reassurance, their connection spoke volumes.

"You’re good for each other," Lando said one evening, his tone unusually sincere.

Oscar glanced at Y/N, who was too busy typing to notice. "Yeah," he said quietly, a small smile playing on his lips. "I guess we are."

The Confession:

It wasn’t a grand confession, but rather a culmination of Lando’s relentless teasing and their own shared moments. One evening, as they packed up from another late study session, Oscar sighed, his gaze shifting from the desk to Y/N.

"Can I ask you something?" he began, his tone a little more serious than usual.

She looked up, her expression curious. "What’s up?"

"Do you... ever get tired of Lando pushing us together?"

Y/N laughed softly. "Constantly. He’s relentless."

Oscar hesitated, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. "The thing is... he’s not entirely wrong. About us, I mean."

Her smile faltered, replaced by a look of surprise. "Oscar..."

"I just think," he continued, his voice steady but earnest, "that maybe we’re wasting time pretending he’s off-base. Because he’s not. At least, not for me. What about you?"

She stared at him for a moment, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Then, a small, shy smile spread across her face. "He’s not wrong for me either."

Relief washed over Oscar’s face, and his lips curved into a genuine smile. "So, what do you say? Dinner? Just us?"

"Are you asking me out, Piastri?"

#f1 x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri #formula 1 #lando norris #fluff #one shot #jjk fluff #oscar piastri x reader

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ducktoo · 5 months ago

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Yako

Yabuki Nako x Reader

Note: The anon who graciously donated their story ideas, pls reveal yourself so i can properly credit you TT

also damn you (the reader) is so mean in this one lol

Nako was the kind of person you couldn’t help but notice, even if you weren’t trying to.

She wasn’t loud or attention-seeking—in fact, the opposite. She was polite to the point of frustration, always ready with a bright “Good morning!” that somehow felt genuine, even before you’d had your coffee. She had this… air about her, like she was constantly living in a world that operated just slightly differently from everyone else’s.

At first, you chalked it up to her being a little quirky. She wasn’t the type to gossip by the water cooler or complain about management like the rest of you. Instead, she spent breaks humming to herself, sketching in the corners of her notepad, or scrolling through something on her phone with a half-hidden grin that made her seem like she had a secret no one else could access.

Her petite frame and doll-like features didn’t help; she was practically tailor-made to make people underestimate her. You’d learned the hard way that behind her soft-spoken demeanour was a sharp wit and an uncanny ability to weasel out of assignments with the sweetest smile you’d ever seen.

But now, as you stared at her, all of those little quirks seemed less like personality traits and more like puzzle pieces. A series of breadcrumbs leading to the possibility that Yabuki Nako, your pleasant, slightly strange coworker…might be living a double life as a VTuber.

It was a hunch, but it didn't feel like a coincidence.

You first noticed it during one of those too-quiet afternoons at the office. The kind where the hum of the air conditioning and the sporadic clicking of keyboards were the loudest sounds in the room. Everyone else seemed to be deep in thought—or pretending to be.

You, on the other hand, had drifted into the void of YouTube, browsing the usual algorithm rabbit hole. Employee of the year, people.

It wasn’t long before you stumbled upon a clip from a VTuber. Her avatar was a tiny, overly-cute anime girl with pink hair, big sparkling eyes, and a voice so saccharine you could feel cavities forming. You didn’t think much of it—VTubers were everywhere these days, especially in Japan—but something about this one stopped you from scrolling away.

The voice.

It was familiar. Not just vaguely familiar. It was exactly familiar.

Your eyes darted across the office, scanning for the source of that nagging sense of recognition. The answer came to you when your gaze landed on Nako.

Today, she was wearing one of her usual oversized sweaters, the sleeves swallowing her hands as she typed away at her computer. Her expression was neutral, her eyes focused on the screen like she was deeply engrossed in work. But now that you were paying attention, you noticed her glancing at her phone every few minutes, her fingers tapping at it with a practiced swiftness.

And that grin. It wasn’t the polite, work-friendly smile she usually wore. It was something smaller, almost mischievous, like she was laughing at a joke only she understood.

You scrunched your nose, watching her for a beat longer than was polite.

Couldn’t be.

Just to be sure, you replayed the clip. The voice filled your ears and minds again, bright and bubbly, complete with giggles and high-pitched squeals that had "Nako" written all over them.

You shook your head. This was ridiculous. There were millions of VTubers out there—what were the odds? But as you kept thinking, the resemblance became impossible to ignore. The intonation, the slight lilt at the end of her sentences, even the way she laughed—it was uncanny.

“Uh, hey….”

You jumped, nearly dropping your phone as Nako appeared next to your desk. Her big brown eyes blinked up at you innocently. “Did you need something? You’ve been staring at me.”

Her voice was calm, level, nothing like the hyperactive VTuber’s voice… but now you couldn’t unhear it.

“Oh, uh, no. Just spacing out.” You forced a laugh and stuffed your phone into your pocket.

Nako tilted her head, unconvinced. “Spacing out? While looking right at me?”

“I was, uh, thinking.”

“About?”

Her tone was casual, but there was something sharp in her gaze, like she was trying to read your mind. And maybe she was—Nako wasn’t as innocent as she looked. You’d seen her casually manipulate her way out of covering shifts more than once.

“Stuff,” you said, shrugging.

“Uh-huh.” Nako squinted, then smiled brightly. “Okay! Well, don’t let me stop you from… thinking.”

She walked back to her desk, but not before throwing one last suspicious glance over her shoulder.

You released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Your heart was pounding like you’d been caught sneaking into the office fridge. It was just a coincidence, right? There was no way Nako—your soft-spoken, slightly quirky coworker—was living a double life as a virtual anime girl.

Right?

But the more you thought about it, the less ridiculous it seemed. Nako was always rushing off after work, claiming she had "personal projects" to take care of. She wasn’t particularly active on social media, and when she was, it was all vague posts about being "super busy."

And now, that voice.

You glanced at her again. She was typing away at her computer, completely unaware that you were mentally unravelling her secret life. Or maybe she wasn’t.

Either way, you needed to be sure. That Nako is…that Vtuber Yako.

"Nako-ya," you start casually, leaning against the edge of her desk. Your posture is deliberately relaxed, the perfect contrast to the laser-sharp focus you’re secretly aiming at her. The office hums with activity around you, the clatter of keyboards and faint chatter forming a pleasant backdrop.

Nako doesn’t look up, her face slightly illuminated by the soft glow of her monitor. Her fingers move briskly across the keyboard, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Hmm? What is it?" she mumbles, barely sparing you a glance.

"Just curious," you say, tilting your head as if in thought. "Do you stream? Or, I don’t know, have some kind of secret hobby?"

She freezes. Not long—just for a split second—but enough for you to notice. Her hands hesitate above the keys, her lips parting in surprise before quickly pressing together. "Secret hobby? Me? No, not really," she replies, a little too casually. Her voice is steady, but the quick swipe of her bangs behind her ear betrays her nerves.

You shrug, keeping your tone light. "Oh, no reason. Just thought I heard someone with a voice like yours on YouTube the other day."

Her gaze finally snaps to yours. Wide eyes. A flicker of panic. Then she schools her expression, sitting up straighter in her chair. "Lots of people have similar voices," she says lightly, her lips curling into a small, tight smile.

"Yeah, totally." You nod, standing upright. But inside, your curiosity is only growing.

She’s hiding something. I can feel it.

A few days later, you approach her desk again, armed with a coffee cup as a peace offering. "Morning, Nako," you chirp, pulling up a chair to sit beside her.

She glances at the cup, then at you, suspicion flickering in her eyes. "What do you want?" she asks, her tone wary but playful.

"Nothing! Just enjoying some coffee and a chat with my favourite coworker," you say innocently. Then, lowering your voice, you lean slightly closer. "By the way, have you ever heard of someone called 'Yako'?"

Her reaction is instantaneous. Her fingers fumble on the keyboard, and she nearly knocks over her water bottle trying to grab it. "Wh-what? No! Why would you ask that?"

You lean back, studying her with an amused grin. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes darting everywhere but at you. She shifts in her chair, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as though shielding herself from further interrogation.

"Just curious," you say with a shrug, sipping your coffee. "Her voice sounds a lot like yours. And the way she talks? Weirdly similar."

Her laugh is high-pitched and nervous, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. "That’s ridiculous," she says quickly, waving you off. "It’s not me. I don’t even watch VTubers."

"Ah, fair enough," you reply smoothly, standing up. But you catch the way her shoulders tense as you walk away, her back stiff like she’s bracing for more.

Gotcha.

It becomes your new favourite pastime—seeing how far you can push her without outright accusing her. During lunch one day, you sit across from her in the break room, your tray clattering against the table as you settle in.

"Catchy tune, huh?" you say, humming the opening theme from Yako’s latest stream.

Nako’s chopsticks pause midway to her mouth. Her head snaps up, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tries to gauge your intentions. "What’s that?"

"Oh, just a song stuck in my head," you reply nonchalantly, taking a bite of your food. "It’s from this VTuber I’ve been watching. You wouldn’t believe how many people think her voice is addictive."

Her laugh is strained, and she resumes eating, though her movements are mechanical. She doesn’t meet your eyes, her focus glued to the bowl in front of her. "Must be a coincidence," she mutters, stirring her rice with more force than necessary.

You nod, pretending to let it go, but you’re watching her closely. The way her grip tightens around the chopsticks. The way her jaw clenches slightly, as if she’s holding back a response.

"Funny thing," you add after a beat, "her gestures are so specific. Like that thing she does with her hands when she’s excited." You mimic the exact motion, your grin widening as her shoulders visibly stiffen.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," she snaps, her cheeks bright red now. She shoves a piece of kimchi into her mouth, chewing like it’s her only way to escape the conversation.

"Sure, sure," you say, leaning back with a smirk.

The office meeting is the next perfect setup. After the boss asks for creative ideas, Nako surprises everyone with a well-thought-out pitch about animated characters for a marketing campaign.

"That was… really specific," you say later, catching her in the hallway. She’s holding a stack of papers, hugging them tightly to her chest.

"What do you mean?" she asks, her tone cautious.

"You clearly know a lot about animation," you say, walking beside her. "For someone who supposedly doesn’t watch VTubers, it’s kind of impressive of how creative your solutions are."

Her eyes widen slightly, and she stumbles over her words. "I—I just… read about it somewhere!" she blurts, her voice an octave higher than usual.

You smile, your gaze lingering on her as she fumbles with the doorknob to the break room. Her movements are jerky, her lips pressed into a thin line as she avoids your gaze. "Of course. Just something you read," you say, holding the door open for her.

She hurries past you, muttering a quick "Thanks," and you can’t help but chuckle.

You’re almost there, Nako. Almost.

That evening, you sit at your desk at home, your laptop glowing faintly in the dim room. You have the stream open, the lively chat scrolling endlessly beside the avatar of Yako. Her signature pink hair bounces every time she moves, and the soft tone of her voice—yes, her voice—is as distinct as ever.

You recline in your chair, sipping your drink, a knowing grin already spreading across your face. Tonight’s stream is titled “CGR - Chill, Gaming, and Rant” It’s only been ten minutes since the stream started, and she’s already flustered, her voice rising slightly as she rants.

"I’m telling you, chat, there’s this coworker of mine, and they’ve been so annoying lately!" she huffs, her virtual avatar mirroring the pout you’re sure she’s making behind the screen.

The chat explodes with reactions: "LOL who is it??" "Drama at the office?? Spicy!" "Is it someone cute??"

You can’t help but laugh, stifling the sound behind your hand. There’s no mistaking the frustration in her tone, and the knowledge that you’re the source of her irritation makes it even better.

She sighs dramatically, the avatar’s shoulders slumping. "They keep asking me the weirdest questions! Like, 'Do you stream?' or 'Have you heard of VTubers?' Like, seriously? What kind of question is that?"

Leaning closer to the screen, you rest your chin on your hand, utterly amused.

Poor Nako. If only you knew I’m watching right now.

"I mean, sure, maybe my voice sounds a little like a VTuber they watch, but come on! Do I look like someone who has time for that?" she says, her tone dripping with faux indignation. The chat eats it up, spamming laughing emojis and teasing comments.

"Nako-chan sus" "Sounds like they’re onto something " "Give them a break! Maybe they’re just a fan?"

Her avatar mimics her throwing her hands up in exasperation. "A fan? Ha! If they were a fan, they’d leave me alone! But noooo, they have to keep pestering me every day."

"Come on, Nako-chan," you mutter under your breath, smirking. "It's fun trying to figure you out ."

As if on cue, she leans closer to the virtual screen, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "And the worst part? They’re so smug about it! Every time I say it’s not me, they just smile like they know something. It’s driving me crazy!"

You laugh out loud this time, unable to help yourself. The timing, the delivery—it’s comedy gold.

The stream continues, and Nako eventually moves on to gameplay, but the occasional quip about her “annoying coworker” keeps slipping in.

"Chat, imagine this: you’re trying to work, minding your own business, and someone just waltzes over to your desk like, ‘Hey, are you this another person?’" she says, mimicking your voice in an exaggerated tone. "Who does that?! Who has that much audacity? Who even bothered?!"

Your sides hurt from laughing now, and you type into the chat with your anonymous username: "Maybe they just want to get to know you better, Nako-chan! "

She reads it aloud, her avatar squinting. "‘Maybe they just want to get to know you better’—psh, yeah, right. More like they want to ruin my life! YOU MOTHER*****!!! "

The chat erupts again, and you lean back in your chair, cackling your ass off and satisfied. It’s almost too much fun watching her complain about you without realizing you’re listening.

As the stream wraps up, she sighs dramatically one last time. "Anyway, thanks for listening to me rant, everyone. I needed that. And if my coworker somehow sees this—" She leans closer, her avatar's face filling the screen. "Stop. Pestering. Me!"

You grin, saluting the screen. "No promises, Nako-ya. No promises."

It’s just another ordinary day at the office—except it’s not. You’ve been inching closer to the truth for weeks now, and every interaction with Nako has only added more fuel to your suspicions. Today, though, feels different. There’s a tension in the air, something you can’t quite put your finger on.

Nako is sitting at her desk, her head bent over a stack of papers. She’s unusually quiet, not even giving you her usual half-hearted glare when you casually stroll past her cubicle. Her fingers fidget with the edge of her sleeve, her knee bouncing under the desk—a sure sign she’s on edge.

You seize the moment.

"Hey, Nako-yaaa," you say, leaning over the partition with an innocent grin.

She doesn’t even look up. "Ugh. What now?" she mumbles, her voice clipped.

"Oh, nothing much," you reply casually, pretending to examine a report in your hands. "Just thought I’d ask if you caught that new Yako stream last night. It was hilarious."

Her hand freezes mid-motion, the pen slipping from her fingers and clattering onto the desk. Slowly, she looks up, her eyes wide with a mixture of panic and resignation. "I—I don’t watch VTubers," she stammers, her voice a pitch higher than usual.

You raise an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Really? That’s a shame. She was continuing her ranting about this super annoying coworker who keeps pestering her. Sounded oddly familiar."

Nako’s cheeks flush a deep pink, and she immediately averts her gaze, pretending to rummage through her desk drawer. "That’s… a coincidence," she mutters.

"Sure, sure," you say, watching her closely. She’s avoiding eye contact like her life depends on it, her shoulders hunched as though she’s trying to disappear into her chair.

You decide to press your advantage. "You know," you say, your tone turning teasing, "I know I talked a lot about this but I’ve been thinking. If you were a VTuber—and I’m not saying you are—it’d be pretty smart to complain about your coworkers on stream. Get it all off your chest, you know?"

Her head snaps up, and for a moment, she looks like a deer caught in headlights. "I—what—why would you even think that?" she sputters, her voice cracking slightly.

You lean closer, resting your arms on the edge of her desk. "Oh, I don’t know," you say, smirking. "The voice, the mannerisms, the very specific hand gestures you do when you’re excited. It’s all a bit too familiar, don’t you think?"

Nako’s face is now as red as a tomato. She opens her mouth to respond, but no sound comes out. Instead, she drops her gaze to her lap, her hands twisting nervously in her lap.

"I—I don’t know what you’re talking about," she says weakly, but the tremble in her voice gives her away.

You chuckle, leaning back. "Relax, Nako. I’m just messing with you."

But she doesn’t relax. In fact, she looks even more panicked now, her fingers clenching the edge of her desk so tightly her knuckles turn white.

That’s when it happens.

Her phone buzzes on the desk, and in her haste to grab it, she accidentally swipes the screen. For a split second, you catch a glimpse of her notifications—one of which is a message from someone named Mod-Kazuya: “Great stream last night, Yako-chan!”

The world goes still.

You glance up at her, your eyebrows raised. She freezes, her hand hovering over the phone, her eyes darting between you and the screen.

"So…" you say, breaking the silence, "…you don’t watch VTubers, huh?"

Her shoulders slump, and she lets out a long, defeated sigh. "Fine," she mutters, dropping her head into her hands. "You win."

The victory feels sweeter than you imagined. You can’t stop the grin that spreads across your face as you watch her squirm in her seat.

"I knew it!" you exclaim, pointing a finger at her. "You’re Yako!"

"Keep your voice down!" she hisses, glancing around the office in a panic.

You chuckle, dropping into the chair beside her desk. "So, how long were you going to keep this from me?"

"As long as I could," she mutters, burying her face in her hands.

Her vulnerability softens your teasing just a bit, and you lean in slightly, lowering your voice. "Relax, Nako. Your secret’s safe with me… for now."

She peeks at you through her fingers, her expression a mix of relief and suspicion. "What do you mean, ‘for now’?"

You smirk, folding your arms. "Well, let’s just say you owe me a favour or two. You know, for keeping quiet."

Her groan is muffled by her hands. "I hate you."

"No, you don’t," you say cheerfully, standing up. "Come on, Nako-chan V. Let’s grab some coffee. My treat."

Her glare follows you all the way to the break room, but the faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips doesn’t escape your notice.

It began innocently enough—or so you’d like to think.

You weren’t a tyrant, just opportunistic. After all, you held a golden ticket: the knowledge of Yabuki Nako’s secret life as a VTuber. And to her credit, she had taken your harmless requests in stride—at first. And the first test of her patience starts with coffee.

“Nako-chan, could you grab me an extra cup from the breakroom?” you ask, flashing a polite smile. “I’m drowning in emails here.”

Her head snaps up from her monitor, her brows furrowed in disbelief. “You were just in there five minutes ago. You had a fresh cup in your hand.”

You tilt your head, feigning a moment of thought. “True. But I drank it all. And you’re, well…” You let your voice trail off, shrugging as if the answer is obvious.

She narrows her eyes. “I’m what?”

“…good at grabbing coffee?” you offer sheepishly, your grin betraying your faux innocence.

Her lips press into a firm line, her eyes narrowing into suspicious slits. You see the flicker of a battle waging behind her gaze—outright refusal versus the undeniable fear of your leverage. With a huff that’s more air than sound, she rises from her chair, muttering in Japanese under her breath. You don’t catch the full meaning, but the sharpness of her tone makes the message clear:

You’re a piece of sh*t.

When she returns, her lips twitch into a strained, professional smile as she sets the cup down a little harder than necessary. “Your coffee. Enjoy.”

“Thanks, Nako! You’re the best!” you reply, suppressing the grin tugging at your lips.

Her forced smile tightens, and she pivots back to her desk, muttering something again. This time, you swear it’s about wishing coffee burns weren’t fatal.

The second favour comes during the weekly rush to print reports.

“Hey, Nako,” you whisper conspiratorially, leaning over the divider between your desks. “Could you grab the printouts for me?”

She doesn’t bother to look up. “The printer’s ten steps away.”

“…I know,” you say, resting your elbow on the divider and propping your chin on your palm. “But you’re already standing. It’ll save me some precious seconds to finish this email.”

Her shoulders rise and fall in a slow, exasperated sigh. This time, she turns her whole body toward you, lips twitching downward in irritation. “You’re sitting. You’re literally doing nothing.”

“I’m multitasking,” you counter smoothly, pointing at your screen where your email draft has precisely one line. “See? Hard at work.”

Her gaze lingers on you for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, without a word, she stands and stomps toward the printer. Her ponytail bounces aggressively with each step, a physical manifestation of her frustration.

When she returns, she drops the papers onto your desk with a loud slap and leans over, her face close to yours. Her lips are pursed, her cheeks puffed out slightly in barely contained fury, and her eyes bore into yours like twin daggers.

“Next time,” she says in a low, dangerous tone, “I’m shredding them.”

You blink innocently. “Thanks, Nako. Truly. I couldn’t do this without you.”

Her jaw tightens, and she storms back to her desk, muttering again. You’re starting to think her muttering is a stress response you’ve singlehandedly cultivated.

It’s after the third week of subtle pestering that her patience begins to fray in earnest. By now, she’s learned to recognize the telltale grin on your face and the overly polite tone you reserve just for her.

“Nako,” you start sweetly, leaning over her desk during your Friday team meeting. “Could you take notes for me?”

Her eyes widen imperceptibly, and she stiffens in her chair. “Why?”

“I forgot my notebook,” you whisper. “And you’re so much better at taking notes than I am.”

Her lips press into a tight line, and her cheeks flush faintly. “Unbelievable,” she mutters under her breath, shaking her head. Still, she takes the papers from your outstretched hand, her fingers gripping them a little too firmly.

Halfway through the meeting, she glances sideways at you, her brows knit tightly together. “You owe me,” she hisses, her voice barely audible.

You glance at her, trying not to laugh at the mixture of irritation and resignation written across her face. Her brows are furrowed, her nose scrunched slightly in annoyance, and her lips are pulled into a sharp pout. It’s almost endearing—if she weren’t so obviously plotting your demise.

“Of course,” you whisper back. “Anything for my favourite coworker.”

Her expression shifts ever so slightly, her glare softening just a fraction. But then, as if remembering she’s supposed to be angry, she elbows you in the side, her pout deepening.

“Quiet,” she mutters, her cheeks now faintly pink.

The breaking point comes one chaotic Monday morning.

“Nako, can you—”

Her chair screeches as she bolts upright, her face flushed with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. “No! Absolutely not!”

The office falls silent, every head turning in your direction. Her fists are clenched at her sides, and her eyes glisten with unshed frustration. Her normally calm expression is replaced with one of raw exasperation, her lips trembling as she speaks.

“You’ve made me your personal assistant for weeks! Coffee, notes, files—I’m not your errand girl!” she snaps, her voice rising slightly before cracking. She takes a deep breath, her gaze lowering to the floor. “And if you tell anyone about...you know...I’ll—” Her voice falters, and she slumps back into her chair, her frustration giving way to quiet defeat.

The silence is deafening until you finally break it with a quiet, “Okay.”

Her head snaps up, her wide eyes meeting yours. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” you say sincerely, rubbing the back of your neck. “I thought we were just messing around. I didn’t mean to stress you out.”

Her lips part slightly, but no words come out. She stares at you, her eyes searching your face for any sign of deceit.

“I mean it,” you say softly. “No more favours. No more pestering. I’ll keep your secret because I respect you, not because I can use it.”

Her expression softens, and the tension in her shoulders eases. “You’re serious?”

“Absolutely,” you say with a nod. Then, a small grin sneaks onto your face. “But I do feel bad, so...how about lunch on me?”

Her lips twitch into the faintest of smiles. “Lunch and dessert.”

“Deal,” you say, standing and grabbing your wallet. “Come on, my favourite coworker.”

She huffs but follows you, her cheeks faintly pink. “You’re still insufferable, you know.”

“Oh wow, never knew that.” you reply, holding the door open for her. “Just your good old insufferable coworker.”

For the first time that day, she laughs…followed by assuring the onlookers after the meal.

#kpop #izone #izone nako #yabuki nako #nako #nako izone #izone x reader #izone fluff #x reader

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that-house · 9 months ago

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December 3rd, 2031 – Sixty degrees, clear skies, and a nice southeasterly breeze. It was a beautiful day to lay siege to Dallas. It was a good thing the weather was nice, because everything else about the operation looked rough. Marian couldn’t wait.

Dallas was a classic Texan fortress-city, two rings of forty foot tall concrete walls with a killing field in between, bristling with anti-aircraft cannon. The ground-facing defenses were a little less thorough, but a few machine guns would make quick work of any infantry charge and Dallas had more than a few machine guns.

“We aren’t being paid enough,” Suzy griped. She was crouching in the shade, alternatingly blowing a bubble of gum and taking swigs out of a bottle whose contents were hidden by a paper bag.

“We’re mercenaries. Get used to it.” Marian hoisted her gun onto her shoulder. “Besides, they don’t exactly expect us to succeed.”

“Oh, are we leading a suicide charge? I wasn’t paying attention to the Duke.” Suzy was never paying attention, but the benefits of having her around outweighed the drawbacks. Most days, at least.

“Pretty much.”

“Did the guys we’re with know this was a suicide charge?”

Marion looked around at the Jeep the Duke of Austin had hastily assigned the duo to. The soldiers suddenly all looked a bit green around the gills. “I’m guessing not. Chin up, boys! Auntie Marian won’t let any harm come to you.”

One of the men, a lieutenant, managed to find his voice. “Why are we here?”

“The Duke hopes that we’ll die loud enough that Dallas won’t notice his bombers taking out the emplaced guns. Doesn’t strike me as very sound tactics, but hey, he’s got manpower to make up for what he lacks in brains.”

Silence in the back of the Jeep.

Marian continued, mostly to fuck with them. “And don’t think the tanks’ll be any help. See those big fancy guns up on the wall? Those are lonestar guns. You boys seen lonestar guns?”

“Yeah.”

“So you get the idea. But hey, cheer up! It’s not every day you get to storm the best-defended city in the state!”

The man slowly came to a revelation a long time coming. “You’re insane,” he said.

“Insane was my father’s name. Please, call me Marian Typhoon.”

Suzy cackled. “That was terrible.”

The soldiers looked between the two women, now realizing they were both mad. “How are you two so calm?”

Marian didn’t answer for a moment, looking out at the slowly-approaching walls of Dallas. The lonestar guns’ targeting algorithms would start flagging the vehicles soon. “Suzy, how far out are we?”

“About a mile and a half.” Suzy busied herself checking over her rifle.

“Now, boys, I’m gonna explain two concepts very quickly, so you’d best pay attention. The KL-90 fully automatic sniper rifle, sometimes called “Le Papillon,” was something of a failure, because for some reason those glorious Frenchmen decided to make it fire 1200 rounds per minute, giving it a tendency to dump the entire mag into one poor fucker. Only six were ever made, and nowadays they’re just museum pieces. In 2026, the American military plunged into the deep end of bioweaponry and concocted a little something known as the ‘vampire virus,’ which proved pretty damn lethal in 99.99% of cases. The 0.01% that survived were problematic enough that the program shut down, and all information about it was expunged from the record.”

Marion patted Suzy affectionately on the head. “Now you might be wondering how those two disparate pieces of information might happen to overlap, and if you boys just sit pretty for a moment I reckon you’ll be able to connect the dots. Suzy?”

The last surviving vampire, Suzy Nines, slotted the magazine into her KL-90 fully automatic sniper rifle, and squinted out at the Dallas walls. She squeezed the trigger, the barrel swinging into a wild blur of motion as the sound of gunfire filled the air. “Machine gunners down. Reloading.”

Marian patted the hapless lieutenant on the shoulder. “Come along, boys. Auntie Marian’s got a city to take.”

#ruin's architects #<- silly lil setting about a crew of superpowered mercenaries running around the shattered ruins of america having a good time #they get two more members later but idk if i'm going to actually write much of it #you get this bit tho!

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therealcocoshady · 10 months ago

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I also had an idea kind of similar to the arranged marriage plot maybe someone sets them up on a blind date… he keeps saying no but the person playing Cupid is very persistent and he ends up feeling obligated to go (idk, just a thought)

Oh, I actually had an thought about something similar to this, a while ago - please don’t mind me, I literally wrote this thing in less than 30 minutes and didn’t proofread. I just wrote it so that you’d get the idea.

After years of frustration with women and trust issues, Marshall has made peace with the fact that he’s going to end up alone. Even his friends have stopped trying to set him up on dates. Sure, they’d like to see him thrive in a relationship, and they can see how lonely he is, sometimes, but they also know he’s complicated. So they leave him alone on the topic. So he dedicates to his work and his role as a father.

And ironically enough, his girls are the only people that could get him to go out of his comfort zone. One of them is still in college, studying psychology. She has to do an assignment for one of her classes and she is searching for volunteers for an experiment on dating and relationships. The design is pretty simple : people sign up, fill some forms and answer questions. Then, an algorithm pairs them up for maximum compatibility and they have to go on a date, during which they will have to answer the famous 36 questions designed to make them fall in love. His daughter is a bit behind on work and she has to find one more volunteer. She doesn’t even believe in this whole thing, she just wants to pass the class. So she begs Marshall, who refuses at first. Because A) he doesn’t date and B) even if he did, he wouldn’t take part in an experiment, much less one involving his daughter in his romantic life. But she’s really desperate and she assures him that the whole thing is anonymous and clinical. « Please, Dad, it’ll take twenty minutes of your time. And who knows if they’ll even pair you with anyone for the date. I just need to pass the class and graduate. You’re the one who always insisted on me getting higher education ! ». Of course, he caves in. Because he did sacrifice a lot for his babies to go to college, and he’ll be damned if his daughter fails the class because of him. Plus, the people in charge of the experiment will probably see his answers and figure he’s a lost cause. Even science wouldn’t find a good match for him, right ?

Except that it does. Weeks later, he receives an email, informing him that he’s been selected for the second step of the experiment and that they’ve found him a match with 95% compatibility. At first, he figures he won’t go. With his luck, they paired him with another fifty-something man who’s just as lonely. No way this could be a woman. Not with the stoic and sarcastic answers he typed in the form. The email doesn’t even specify who they paired him with. They just ask if he’d be available for a date in two weeks time. Basically, it’s having coffee with the other person, answering the 36 questions unrecorded and then filling another form to describe the experience and say if yes or no they feel attracted to the other person and would consider actually dating them. He figures that, even though it’s anonymous, his daughter’s team wouldn’t have the data if he bails and he’ll be damned if his precious daughter doesn’t get her degree because of him. Of course he’ll bite the bullet and go on that stupid coffee date. Even if he’s paired with a 53 year-old name George.

But as it turns out, his date is not 53 year-old George. It’s you. You and your charming smile. You who agreed to take part in the whole thing because your little sister, his daughter’s teammate, begged you at the last minute. God, these college students need to learn how to do things in time and not to involve their family in their cringy psych classes experiment. You don’t even want to do this whole thing but when a charming man shows up, you can’t help but smile and introduce yourself, extending a polite handshake to greet him. He doesn’t seem too at ease in that little café, which you find odd because it’s actually quite lovely. Also, you swear you’ve seen him somewhere, but it’s Detroit and he’s a brown-haired, bearded, middle-aged man in jeans and a hoodie. Pretty generic. You’re not exactly surprised to have been paired up with someone older than you. You’ve always been told you’re an old soul, so of course « science » (or whatever software they used to compile data) would figure out that your perfect match is almost twenty years older. Anyway, you’re not really here for a date. You’re here for your sister to finally graduate. And you’re not one to refuse free Chai latte.

So the two of you exchange a few pleasantries, introduce yourselves and get to these 36 questions. You tell each other who you could have dinner with if you could choose anyone in the world, whether or not you have a secret hunch about how you will die… as it turns out, the thing is cleverly designed. The questions are increasingly personal and both of you end up sharing personal details, things you most definitely wouldn’t think of sharing with a stranger you were more or less randomly paired up with. By the time you reach the last question, you are looking into each other’s eyes, giving your undivided attention, leaning in. When you arrived, you were strangers but by the end of the date, you feel like you really know each other. More than some people you’ve known your whole life. And by the time it ends, you’ve had the time to notice how charming the wrinkles around eyes are, and you don’t find it too unsettling that he blinks a bit faster than most people you know. As for him, he hasn’t failed to notice that little birthmark near your eye, and the way your mouth twitches when you’re trying to think of the adequate word to answer one of the questions. You don’t know each other’s favorite color or the name of your first pet, but both know when the other last cried in front of someone else and by themselves and why. 36 questions and a cup of coffee later, and you’re not really strangers. You actually had a pleasant time. Too bad you reached the end of the questionnaire and it’s time to go. Too bad he doesn’t offer to take your number and call you. Too bad you’re too demure to ask for his. You wouldn’t have minded actually going out with him. Maybe even discuss that movie he mentioned in passing and thinks you’d like.

The two of you share a hug goodbye and agree that it was fun. You wish him well for his daughter’s wedding he told you he’s busy planning and he wishes you luck for that job interview you said you were nervous about. When you go home and it’s time to answer that final set of questions, saying how you feel about the experiment, you actually give the whole thing a solid 8/10. And when you’re asked if you’d actually date the person you met for coffee, you tick « yes » faster than you’ve ticked any box. You do the same when it asks you if you’d consent to the other person being given your contact info.

Weeks later, Marshall is ecstatic when his daughter tells him she got a good grade for that psych class and that she’ll be graduating with honors. He’s proud as can be. She thanks him profusely for helping her. « I know it’s a stupid thing. But hey, there are a few people who reported they had a good time. Who knows ? Maybe I helped someone find love. ». She has absolutely no idea that he is one of the people who asked for the other person’s contact info as soon as they were given the possibility. She doesn’t know he’s been on four more dates with you. People have been so used to him being single that it didn’t even cross his daughter’s mind. Not even when he mentioned he missed the last Lions’ game, which never happens. But she definitely gets a hunch when he attends her graduation ceremony and sees him smile to that beautiful lady who’s attending her graduation ceremony and came to greet him. « Oh, that’s my sister speaking with your dad ! », her friend says. « I convinced her to do the experiment and she told me she met someone charming. Can you believe it ?! ».

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #Eminem blurb

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your-average-mess-on-all-fronts · 8 months ago

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The first time I read discworld as a kid, I didn't really understand what the whole "if you are asked to find the real you in a maze of mirrors, ignore them all and look down, and that is you" thing was supposed to mean. I thought it was kinda weird and pretentious. Like, why are you avoiding the question?

But now that I've actually experienced some of the identity crises that you encounter when growing up, it makes so much more sense. It actually makes more sense now than it did back then, to people who grew up in a post-social-media world. You're constantly presented with esthetics and identities to give yourself a sense of meaning, you're supposed to place yourself on every imaginary scale someone made just because, and while that can be fun, there's this added expectation to assign your sense of self to an image someone else made, if you feel like it resonates with you. And... That's especially true with gender. Trans people online have this constant pressure on us to "find our truth" and care oh so deeply about it, but then algorithms start marketing curated pictures of our identities to us, to find pride in it. We're supposed to look at a list of tiktoks about our microlabel and think, "those are my people and I'm proud to be one of them". And don't even get me started on the concept of gender envy. Like, you're supposed to look at something that has nothing to do with you, and assign your identity to this thing, which surely doesn't help the fact that young people are now collectively paralyzed by a lack of sense of self. And I'm not saying any of those things are inherently bad or invalid- we all look at mirrors to examine ourselves, and that's FINE. But the person you ARE isn't gonna come to you in a dream, or an essay, or a post, or a reflection. It's in you. Your sense of self isn't a riddle to be solved, it's just who YOU are. This isn't to say you shouldn't do things that make you feel happy or authentic. But those things don't define you. Nothing that you do or experience would make you no longer you if changed, and that's okay. You're not your body, or your clothes, or your attitude, or your job, or your abilities, or your fandoms, or your diagnosis. You can love them, and hopefully you do, but they're not you. You're you. You're the perspective that experiences the world around you. You're the thing under your mind that feels. Please don't forget that.

#discworld #gnu terry pratchett #standing in a maze of mirrors #identity #depersonalization #gender #transness #sense of identity #sense of self #social media #identity crisis #philosophy #granny weatherwax #autism diagnosis #autism #neurodiversity

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ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult · 2 years ago

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Bad PR-Jordan Li Fic

A/N: I saw someone post about needing a fic about Jordan being in a relationship where they're "unmarketable" and haven't been able to get the idea out of my head since. This is written with a black reader in mind. I also have a sequel in mind if anyone wants it.

Word Count: 3739

Warnings: Some sensuality and swearing.

I don't claim to own any characters or property from Gen V or The Boys. All credit to the original gif creators.

Silence was something that I always thought I longed for. Every day for the past twenty years, there was noise, whether it was someone (usually multiple) talking, music blasting, cars going by, or screaming. By now, I thought I would have learned how to tune it out and focus on what was most important: save the little kids from a burning school, study as hard as I could to get into GOD U, and manipulate social media algorithms so much it would make tech experts’ heads spin.

But, I hadn’t. Then, I thought I got used to the noise, the demands to take pictures with total strangers, the background noise of a song I was doing a TikTok challenge to, Liza, my Vought-assigned PR rep, and my parents insisting on what I should wear, and the constant buzzing in the back of my head that my ability caused. However, as I laid on Jordan’s bed, listening to them ramble about Brink, I didn’t mind the noise so much.

“I mean, he’s kind of a mad genius but for good,” Jordan stated. Then, they turned to me with a sheepish smile on their face. “Sorry, I’m boring you, aren’t I?”

I shook my head. “No, no, it’s alright. Brink’s brilliant and it’s amazing that you’re his mentee.” I pushed myself up onto my elbows. “Besides, you’re pretty cute when you’re excited.”

Jordan rolled their eyes and slowly made their way towards me, stopping right at the foot of their bed. “Only when I’m excited?”

“Shut up, you know you always look good,” I teased.

They playfully flipped their hair and batted their eyes. “Well, we can’t all have a glam squad on call so I appreciate it.”

I scoffed, rose to my knees, and playfully pushed their shoulder only for them to switch to their masculine form and grab my hand. “That’s not fair and I didn’t even ask for them, my parents and Liza insisted on it when I got in.”

Jordan nodded but I could tell they weren’t listening since their eyes were on my lips. “I don’t feel like talking anymore.”

Something about their deeper masculine voice sent tingles down my spine and made my stomach feel fuzzy. Then again, they easily caused the same effect in both forms. My breath caught in my throat as soon as our lips touched, and I could feel my heart rate pick up. I tried to relax in their gentle but firm grip as I wrapped my hands around their neck, but it was easier said than done.

Suddenly, my back was against their bed and the kissing got more fervent. Jordan slipped their tongue down my throat and trailed one of their hands down my leg. I shivered as they pulled my leg up around their hip and pressed further into me.

“I should’ve known this is what you meant when you said you wanted to hang out,” I breathed after pulling away for a second.

“I had good intentions but you kept screwing me with your eyes,” Jordan huffed back.

“No, I---” Jordan cut me off, switching to their feminine form and kissing my jaw, working their way down my neck. “Not…fair.”

One of their hands slowly started trailing up under my (their) sweatshirt and I tried to stifle my giggles at the soft touch. After a couple of seconds, I couldn’t help but start giggling and covered my face when Jordan paused their actions and looked up at me.

“Still ticklish?” Jordan teased.

“Shut up, it’s your fault since they're your hands,” I groaned through another laugh.

Jordan smirked at me and ran their hands down my waist, gently tapping my sides, causing more laughter on my end. I tried to reach for their hands to stop them but they were too good at dodging me. At some point during my laughter, my phone started ringing.

“Ignore it,” Jordan whined as they pressed their head against my stomach, their big brown eyes somehow looking bigger and browner than usual.

“I can’t,” I whined back as I pulled away from them and grabbed my phone from my desk. “It’s Liza, I have to answer.”

Jordan rolled their eyes. “That bitch has the worst timing.”

“She might not be able to help it.” I quickly answered the phone. “Hey, Liza.”

“Y/N, I’m on campus and we need to talk ASAP. Meet me outside the Crimefighting building in five,” Liza rattled off.

“Oh, sure, what’s it about?” I asked.

“I’ll tell you when I see you.”

She clicked off and I turned to Jordan, who was much less than pleased.

“Let me guess, you have to go,” they said.

“I’m sorry, it sounded important,” I said as I started grabbing my stuff from around their room. “I’ll try to make it quick.”

“No, don’t worry about it.” They pushed themselves off the bed and stood in front of me, gently grabbing my hands in theirs. “It’s your career and I’m proud of you. I knew what I was getting into when the Cyclone became my girlfriend.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Ugh, don’t say it like that. But I appreciate you and I will show you as much later.” I quickly kissed them and grabbed my shoes. Just as I was about to leave, I paused at something in their closet. “Is that my jacket?”

Jordan shook their head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I snatched the item from the closet and held it out. “Jordan, you’re going to try to convince me that you’re into vintage Yves Saint Laurent?”

“Your taste rubbed off on me,” they said with a shrug.

“I’m flattered.” I put it back in their closet.

“By the way, do you know where my black hoodie went?”

“See you later!”

About four and a half minutes later, I was sitting at an outdoor table with Liza and my parents. Despite the summer heat, Liza was wearing a navy skirt suit, and her graying black hair was tied into a severe bun on the top of her head. She was typing on two different phones and her laptop simultaneously, deep blue eyes never staying on anything too long. My mom, who sat on my right, smiled kindly.

“So, Y/N, how does it feel to be a junior?” she asked.

“Great, Mom. I thought I told you and Dad that you didn’t have to hover this much since I am a junior now,” I said, glancing at my dad who was on my other side.

“We’re not hovering, it’s been two days since we dropped you off,” Dad insisted. “Besides, this is about business.”

“Wha---”

“Oh my gosh, is that Y/N Y/L/N?” Someone squealed behind me.

“Show time,” I sighed.

The “someone” was actually two someones, a pair of what looked like freshmen. One was a tall, pretty brunette in a white graphic tee and matching mini skirt and the other was an equally pretty, slightly shorter brunette wearing jean shorts and Vans. The taller one held her V-Phone with a death grip.

“Can we take a picture with you?” The taller one asked.

“Of course.” I stood from my seat and made my way over to them.

“I can take it.” But before my mom could stand, Liza shot up from her seat, grabbed the phone, and ushered us closer together.

“Okay, Y/N in the middle, Tall Girl on the left, Short One on the right,” Liza instructed, eyes never looking up from the camera.

“It’s Ashley,” the short one said.

“Smile!”

I did as I was told and the girls were walking away before I could even say an obligatory, “No problem.”

Both my parents smiled as I sat back down.

“It’s great to see that you’re still popular after all this time,” Dad said, his eyes hidden behind his tinted sunglasses.

“As she should be. Y/N has thirty million followers across all her social media and she does amazing in the Midwest and the South, both tough demographics for young black women,” Liza stated.

“Thanks, Liza,” I said, mindlessly playing with the ends of my butterfly locs. “So, you mentioned you were coming but left out my parents.”

At this, Liza finally paused from typing and looked up at me. She slowly set her elbows on the table and rested her chin on top of her pale hands. My head involuntarily started shaking from side to side and Liza lifted one of her hands.

“Let me speak first, Y/N, and then we can argue about it,” Liza stated.

“The last time you said that, I ended up almost getting mauled by a dog during an animal shelter livestream,” I hissed.

“Well, the dog had a serious history of trauma,” Liza insisted.

“You didn’t inform me of that before insisting I cuddle with it for the camera!”

“It was a learning lesson: you are fantastic under pressure.”

I huffed and folded my arms over my chest. “So, what is this about?”

Liza assumed her previous “Serious business” pose. “Like I was saying, you’re doing fantastic numbers. That last TikTok you and Cate did hit a hundred million views in less than twenty-four hours.”

“The ‘Rover’ challenge wasn’t that hard,” I commented.

“That’s amazing!” Mom practically cheered.

“That’s my girl,” Dad said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

I smiled despite the strong sense that a “but” was coming.

“However,” Liza continued.

Uh oh.

“My job is to do everything in my power to make sure everyone associates Y/N Y/L/N and Cyclone with beauty, intelligence, grace, taste, and power. So, we are a little concerned about Jordan.”

Immediately, my shoulders tensed and I gritted my teeth. “Who exactly is ‘we’?” I glanced at my parents.

Mom’s eyes widened and I had no idea what Dad was doing.

“No, of course not, Sweetie, we love Jordan. They have been a fantastic influence on you,” Mom insisted.

I could feel my face warm up about what had transpired with Jordan a few minutes ago. I doubt that would fall under “good influence”, or any time we went out with the others.

“And they give you a run for your money when it comes to combat. You need someone challenging like them. Plus, that Luke boy isn’t bad either,” Dad added.

As their words sunk in, I had a strange feeling that my parents were there to lessen a Vought-sized blow. My suspicions were confirmed when Liza’s lips pressed more firmly together and she was glancing at one of her phones.

“Are you reading a script right now?” I seethed.

Liza’s head shot up and she shook her head. “No, no, Y/N, not at all. Just some notes.” She quickly regrouped. “I understand that you’re happy and you’re probably having some fantastic sex right now----”

“Liza!” I interrupted, praying that the ground would open and swallow me whole.

Suddenly, Dad’s arm was back at his side, and Mom was suddenly very captivated by a pair of seniors skateboarding past.

“But the facts are that a bi-gender Asian supe is not marketable in the Deep South or the Midwest,” Liza said. “I am not shaming Jordan for who they are but, my job is to sustain your relatable-but-unattainable brand and not let anything get in the way of it.”

“You’re saying my partner is a threat to my career?” I asked, my voice much hollower than I intended.

“Potentially. Now, I have come up with a very good alternative.” Liza turned her laptop so it was facing my parents and me. On it was a picture of Andre and some clips of us on social media. “Andre Anderson tested very well. Our focus group members responded positively to the black power couple aesthetic.”

“We’ve met him before, he’s nice,” Mom offered.

“He’s cool and I’ve met his dad and I could see us all getting along,” Dad mentioned.

My head was swirling with so many thoughts that I was convinced I was either going to be overwhelmed by them or find one that was coherent enough to state. My mouth settled on, “It’s the twenty-first century and you’re all telling me I have to break up with my partner because of demographics? Jordan’s an amazing supe and they’re so smart, it’s scary. They can do---will do so much good and the only thing you care about is optics?”

Mom gently touched my arm. “Y/N, please, calm down.”

When I glanced around, I noticed that several Vought-A-Burger wrappers, a couple of cigarettes, and a few panicked squirrels and rabbits were swirling around the table. Quickly, I released the small animals and put the trash in the nearby receptacle.

“Sorry about that,” I muttered, eyeing Liza.

“I understand that you have strong feelings for Jordan but, think about it. With the right moves, you could be living in The Tower with the legends of your generation. Sure, you’re number three at GOD U right now, but this status can easily go away. You’ve worked your entire life to be the hero that little black girls everywhere look up to. Don’t take Cyclone away from them before she even starts,” Liza warned.

I desperately wanted to say something snarky, but my mind was blank. The only thing I could sense was my throat tightening up and my eyes beginning to well. I brushed a loc out of my face to play it off and tried to gain my thoughts.

“How much time do I have before I make a decision?” I asked.

“Twenty-four hours. I’ll be looking out for your call, text, email, or video call,” Liza stated as she started to pack her things.

My parents stood and Mom gave me one of her warm hugs and Dad pulled me to his side.

“It will be okay, Y/N,” he whispered.

I swallowed the giant lump in my throat to thank him and then insisted on walking them back to their car.

A few hours later, Elle Woods was sobbing in the fanciest restaurant in California while I carefully placed my baking pan in the oven. As much as I wanted to sob, I had no time for tears, I had to think. The thinking led me to have so many circular thoughts that my head spun and I resorted to baking and watching my favorite movie.

If Elle could solve a murder case and exonerate her client as a first-year law student, I should be able to figure out this PR mess. On the one hand, I was happier with Jordan than I’ve ever been with anyone. On the other hand, my dreams and my family’s position were hanging by a thread.

Maybe it was better that I channeled my energy into baking cupcakes.

I exhaled a small gust of wind to clear the bowls and utensils from the counter and place them in the dishwasher. Then, I focused on pushing multiple gusts of wind from my hands to clean the counters and wash the dishes. By the time I was done, I was exhausted and flopped on my couch to mindlessly watch the movie.

Unfortunately, the bright and colorful backdrop of Elle’s LSAT studying montage did nothing to take my mind off my dilemma. All I could think about was Jordan’s face when I told them. Breaking up with them would be like shooting a puppy’s mom in front of the puppy and making it watch it bleed out.

How would I tell them anyway? Hey, babe, I’m sorry I had to run out on us almost hooking up to meet with Liza and my parents. Funny story, they want me to break up with you so that I have a shot at a career and date Andre instead. See you for that morning lecture?

Knock! Knock! Knock!

The sound jolted me from my thoughts, and I pushed myself off the couch to answer it. “Rufus, if you try to get me into your room again, I swear to----” I cut myself off at the sight of Jordan, in their feminine form, staring back at me.

They wore a navy sweatshirt and black sweatpants. Also, their cheeks were more flushed than usual and they smelled like their sandalwood body wash, meaning they had probably stopped by the gym recently.

“Is Rufus bothering you again? I’ll go murder him right now,” Jordan said.

I quickly grabbed their wrist. “No, I appreciate the thought but I’m fine, besides, I can take care of myself.”

“I know but I can’t help but worry.”

A strange warm, tingling sensation ran its way from the center of my chest throughout the rest of my body. I was sure that if someone listened closely enough, they would hear me buzzing.

I stepped aside to let Jordan in and leaned against the door to close it. “So, what brings you by?”

They wandered over to my couch, sat down, and grabbed my phone off the coffee table. “Because you haven’t been answering my texts or calls.”

“Crap, I am so sorry, Jordan, I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”

Jordan glanced around my dorm. “I can see that.” They sniffed the air. “Legally Blonde and you’re baking, what happened at the meeting?”

Of course, Jordan would cut straight to the point. Usually, this kind of banter was pleasant but my stomach was in knots as Liza’s words and my parents’ expressions replayed in my mind.

“What? I can’t bake and watch a comfort movie after a last-minute PR meeting?” I asked rhetorically, crossing the room to my desk to start organizing my textbooks.

“Don’t try to deflect, Y/N. Tell me what happened.” Their voice was gentle but firm and I knew that they were not going to let me out of this conversation.

So, I set Brink’s latest book down and sat across from Jordan on my tangerine accent chair. I prayed that I would find the right words to say before blurting them out. As soon as I made eye contact with them, my chest tightened.

“Well, Liza surprised me by having my parents join us,” I started.

Jordan raised their eyebrows. “Shit, this is serious.”

“Uh-huh. Liza said that my numbers are doing great and I’m on track for a promising career.”

“And?”

I gulped. “And…she’s concerned that my personal choices might get in the way of that.”

Jordan frowned. “Personal choices? Every college kid known to man has done illicit substances and drank alcohol underage. You’ve never been caught doing any of that anyway.”

“You’re right but she wasn’t talking about partying; she was talking about us.”

As soon as the bomb rolled off my tongue, I saw its impact on Jordan, from the flashing expressions of confusion and anger to the clenching of their fists. I just wanted to make it stop.

“What?”

As I rambled Liza’s reasoning, I could sense the hurt and animosity flowing from Jordan. Once I finished, the timer for the cupcakes went off and I jumped up to grab them. I could have cried at the momentary escape as I set them on the counter to cool.

“She weaponized your desire to be a positive role model for other girls who look like you to screw you over,” Jordan said slowly.

I wiped my hands on my sweatpants. “Liza’s doing her job, babe, and she’s looking at all angles, including how it could impact my goals.” I returned to my seat and folded my hands in my lap.

“Her job is to make you choose between your relationship and your career?” Jordan asked. “That’s bullshit, this whole thing is.”

“I know, Jordan, trust me, I know, I almost started a small tornado when she said it.”

Jordan eyed me closely for a second. “What else did she say?”

“What?”

“I can tell you’re holding back, Y/N. Whatever else you have to say, it can’t be any worse.”

They might have just jinxed that.

“Liza thinks that Andre would be a better fit for me because a bunch of people like the idea of a black power couple.”

Jordan had two angry responses: the first was they would attempt to tear down anything and everything around them unless consoled. The second was they would become unresponsive and deal with all their rage internally. That night, I got the second one. Their eyes were hollow and the color drained from their face. My eyes welled up as I hoped for them to start screaming, swearing, or something, but nothing happened.

“But I don’t want to do it, Jordan, I think it’s so stupid.” I knelt in front of them, grabbed my phone from their hands, and set it aside to hold them. “My parents don’t even really agree with Liza because they know you and they think you’re awesome.”

“What do you think?” they muttered.

“Like I said, I think it’s stupid. We can figure something else out. Liza can spin us as the ultimate diverse power couple, huh?” I did my best to smile as widely as I could. “Come on, let’s forget about this. I made white velvet cupcakes with cream cheese filling. You can be my first taste tester once they cool.”

Things would work out, they had to. We would figure something out and survive our junior year at GOD U with little to no incidents. Suddenly, Jordan’s hands slipped from my grasp and they shifted to their masculine form.

“What if it doesn’t work out?” Jordan whispered.

“What do you mean?” I replied.

“I mean, you don’t necessarily have to be a supe but, I know that you’re scared for your parents. Your success has helped them a lot and it could destroy them if your reputation takes a hit,” they said. “And I’ve seen how little black girls light up when they see you now and how passionate you are about helping them and, I know that you’re just getting started and I don’t want to be in the way.” “Jordan…”

“I don’t want to hold you back anymore, Y/N,” they muttered.

Their words sunk deep into my core like a boulder and took all my words with it. I wanted to tell them that they could never hold me back and that they made me a better super, a better person. But all I could do was watch as they stood and walked out of my dorm, taking our one and a half year relationship with them.

#jordan li x reader #jordan li imagine #black!reader

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snezka-049 · 3 months ago

Text

Snezka and SCP-049 beginning (lore)

1. Dr. Snezhana Lewandowski lore (Snezka)

(Events before the containment breach).

In the corridors of the SCP Foundation, where secrets and anomalies are hidden from the public eye, Dr. Snezhana Lewandowski worked. Her life was full of mystery, and this is what drew her to the world of anomalies.

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

Name: Snezhana Lewandowski

Age: ██

Date of Birth: 27/08/ ████

Clearance Level: Third

Personnel Category: B

Specialty: IT Specialist. Psychologist.

Place of work: Zone 19

Foundation experience: 5 years

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

Education

First: IT-Specialist.

Snezhana enrolled in the Faculty of Information Technology at a state university. During her studies, she specialized in cybersecurity and data analytics.

After graduating with a Bachelor's degree, then a Master's degree, she continued her education in graduate school, where she focused on research in the areas of:

1. Information Security.

2. Big data analytics.

She defended her doctoral dissertation on "Anomaly detection methods for system and big data", which attracted the attention of the SCP Foundation.

Second: Psychologist.

After achieving the success she needed in technical education, she decided to fulfill her life's main dream of working in the field of psychology. Due to some unpleasant events in her childhood, she did not have the opportunity to study in this field, so she had to temporarily change her orientation in life.

From an early age, Snezhana has shown an interest in psychology and human behavior. The motivation for this comes from a tough youth and personal traumatic experiences. Her goal was to help those who couldn't make it on their own, as she once couldn't. After enough time had passed, she managed to apply to the academy to study psychology. Upon graduating from the academy, Snezhana specialized in the areas of:

1. Clinical psychology.

2. Experimental psychology.

3. Counseling psychology.

After she got a job in a psychoneurological dispensary, gaining valuable experience and practice, a broader understanding of the inner world of people.

Invitation to the Foundation

Finding contacts and personal information about Snezhana was not difficult for the Foundation. Having noticed her abilities, the Foundation ordered to send a recruiter - ████ ██████ - into her social circle to get more information about the candidate. As a result, the recruiter ████ and Snezhana became close friends.

After some time of observation and communication of the recruiter with her, having received all the necessary information, the Board of the Foundation came to the decision to give her the invitation to work.

Realizing the risks and danger, Snezhana accepted the invitation, having resigned from her previous job after working for about 2 years.

After testing, interviewing and training, she became an employee of the Foundation with a level 2 security clearance.

Career at the Foundation

Snezhana started her career as a junior specialist in cybersecurity, a little later gaining a junior position in psychology.

Her specialization is a unique combination of programming and psychology, allowing her to look at anomalies from two perspectives: both as complex systems that require analysis, and as entities with their own consciousness and motivation.

Incident

While analyzing data, Dr. Lewandowski came across strange signals on the network. These were not just hacking attempts - they were coming from an entity known as SCP-███ She and others in the programming field developed a comprehensive defense strategy. In the process, they faced many challenges: the SCP-███ system was constantly adapting, and they had to find new solutions. Under conditions of stress and strain, Dr. Lewandowski managed to implement their real-time protection algorithm.

After that, for some reason, she was assigned more work in the field of psychology. Also, her success in the incident gave her a promotion to level 3 clearance.

In psychology

Dr. Lewandowski researches and analyzes object psychology. She develops methods of interacting with abnormal entities and helps in understanding their behavior.

Real security is achieved not only through physical barriers, but also through the emotional stability of employees. She took time to help her colleagues through seminars and psychology trainings for the staff of the Facility, trying to create an atmosphere of trust and mutual support among the employees.

For about 2 years, Dr. Lewandowski worked only with Safe Class facilities, and after being promoted to Senior Specialist in Psychology, she was ordered to work with Euclid Class facilities.

This promotion led her to meet one subject that changed her life, and in the future, his too... SCP-049 - Plague Doctor.

2. Lewandowski and SCP-049

(Events on the eve of the containment breach).

Experiment

The first days of Dr. Lewandowski and the SCP-049 subject were formal, protocol-driven. Lewandowski conducted standard interview sessions in an attempt to understand the motives and nature of his subject. The subject was cool and detached.

She knew SCP-049 was dangerous, but she saw him not only as an anomaly, but as a complex, multifaceted individual. His words were full of sadness and loneliness, imbued with longing and melancholy. She understood his logic, his pain, his desire to “help,” even if the methods were questionable, but perhaps all is not what it seems at first glance.

And yet she too had thought similar things to what SCP-049 had said, that the world was sick, humanity needed to be saved. Ever since she was a child, she had had thoughts like his in her mind.

She had a theory that there were no bad people in the world, but wounded people who had not been healed. She believed that a person becomes wounded, after being treated unfairly or cruelly, by similarly wounded people. If a person does not work on their wound, it will not heal, because there are many wounded people in the world that will scratch that wound, making it bigger. And this pain and resentment, like a virus or rot, infects his soul completely, making the person the same as the one who once inflicted the wound. Later that person carries this pain and resentment further, taking it out on others, making more infected. It is an endless cycle that cannot be eradicated completely, but can be minimized. Some can handle it, and some need help. You have to want help, you have to understand the situation and try to solve it too, because no one can help you better than you can help yourself, and that's what Snezka had to go through.

She thought these thoughts were strange, but after so many years, there was a creature that literally reflected her thoughts, with whom you can share this theory, and perhaps get understanding.

She saw herself in him, only a better version of herself, but with the same mental problems.

— How can that be!? He's just an abnormal object, why can't I stop thinking about him!? I can't stop thinking about him, his words. Maybe it's my soft nature, too compassionate, empathic, or maybe it's his anomalous action?

Dr. Lewandowski felt a kindred spirit in him and wanted to have more sessions with him, and most importantly, she wanted to get away from formal conversation, and share her thoughts with him about their common problem.

She decided to send a request to the management above about the idea of having experimental conversations with SCP-049, so that he would see Dr. Lewandowski as genuinely understanding, get comfortable with her, and tell her more about his treatment, himself, and the fever. Approval was granted, but it was a long wait. Finally she could be sincere with him.

Trust

New conversations with SCP-049, but not as formal as before, it took several such conversations before SCP-049 settled down with Dr. Lewandowski.

He told her more about the fever, about the treatment, they began to have deep dialogues about life and death, about philosophy, about society, SCP-049 even began to tell stories from his own life. Lewandowski also told him about her life, but she liked to listen to him more.

She found comfort in his monologues about the world, about death, about eternity, his stories about medicine. Her mind resisted, but her heart could no longer deny it: she felt something more than professional interest in him. It was a dangerous game, bordering on insanity. She knew it, but she couldn't stop. Lewandowski realized that her feelings were illogical, unacceptable, but they were there. Her greatest fear was that the Foundation would suspect something and restrict her access to him, which unfortunately happened...

Another conversation between SCP-049 and Lewandowski, the subject had already started addressing her by her favorite version of her name, Snezka, while she addressed him as Doctor. Suddenly the object fell silent.

— Doctor? Is everything all right?

— ...Yes. Snezka, let me demonstrate something to you, you should know....

The subject held out his hand, as far as it was possible being handcuffed for safety's sake, and nodded, offering to touch her. Sensing that this venture might not end well, Lewandowski extended her palm, and SCP-049 touched it.

— Wait, what...? Oh... My thoughts about your abilities were valid. - Was the last thing Snezka said before the cell door opened and she was summoned to leave.

Reprimand

— Dr. Lewandowski, your experimental conversations with the subject have come to an end. We have all the information we need, you will no longer have to work with SCP-049. Let's be honest, it seems you've begun to abuse your access to the facility, and the Foundation board has some questions about that.

— ...It was part of an experiment, you see.... It gave you a lot of new information, before such experiments such informative results were not observed. - said Lewandowski in her defense.

— Lucky for you that it didn't end in your death! Objects like 049 are dangerous, you can't trust them or reach out to them. Or have you forgotten what he did to Dr. Hamm? And everything was fine at first, too. This object is unpredictable! You're lucky you're a valued member of our staff, and this is the first time you've had an incident like this, otherwise we'd be forced to take action.

Separation

More work with other facilities has now fallen on her. One day, she dared to inquire about SCP-049. But she didn't get a clear answer.

Meanwhile, SCP-049 was asking the same question to the staff - when would Dr. Lewandowski visit?

— We're sorry, but Dr. Lewandowski has declined to work with you, SCP-049.

— ...That can't be true, you're lying! She couldn't have done it, I can feel it!

Subject SCP-049 became hostile to the Foundation, uncooperative and drove all attempts at contact away.

All or Nothing

— "Is the dream and freedom worth risking the lives and safety of others?" — Pondered by Dr. Lewandowski . — "Risking everything, insanity, selfishness(?). But if it's for a great purpose, for the good of all mankind..."

INCIDENT ██-████

(Latest walkie-talkie recordings)

(Static noise and warning signal sound)

Operator One: (Confused) This is operator one. Security protocol has failed! Repeat, security protocol has failed! All subjects... all subjects are at large!

Agent █: Reporting a security breach in Sector 3. Doors unresponsive, cameras disabled. Looks like SCP-███ is out of control.

Commander ███████: be careful! Confirm the presence of the intruder and take action to apprehend him.

(Noise, sound of gunshots)

Agent ██: (panic) This is crazy! Reporting SCP-███ is not alone. There are several other objects present. Very aggressive, we need help, repeat ████████████████ (interference).

Commander ████████: Come in, Agent ██, come in!!! (communication lost).

Commander ████████: Fuck...

Dr. █████: It could be SCP-███! He could have hacked into the security system and released the other facilities.

Commander ████: █████, are you sure? How?!

Dr. █████: I can't say for sure, but... (struggle noise) HOW ARE YOU!? STOP, DOCTOR... (interference).

Commander ████: All personnel to the assault! Stop the targets at all costs! What the hell's going on! Where's all the security personnel!?

(explosions, shouting)

Agent █████: They're all over the place

Agent ██: Where's the ██ squad?

Agent █████: they're holding back SCP-682

Agent ██: he's the last fucking thing we need!

SB-2: SB-1, this is SB-2! We've got-- we've got SCP-███breaking through! We can't stop him!

SB-1: Hold him off at all costs! Support is on the way.

(Siren and explosions)

Operator Three: SB-1, this is Operator Three! The ██ camera signal is gone! SCP-█████... he's out!

SB-1: All SB personnel to camera ██! Isolate SCP-█████! Repeat, isolate SCP-█████! (radio interference)

End of Calm

There has been a massive failure of the entire Foundation security system in Area 19, as well as a power failure. Security protocol, alarms, and warnings went off with a delay with most of the dangerous objects wreaking havoc in the Foundation. The alleged culprit of the SCP-“”" incident. Likely had accomplices, an investigation is underway.

During the incident, a large number of soldiers and staff died. There was a leak of several objects to freedom. The lists of dead and missing were equal. Dr. Snezana Lewandowski and SCP-049 were also listed as missing, among dozens of personnel and facilities.

The SCP Foundation, having suffered loss and damage, is doing its best to restore order after the chaos, but the world is no longer safe as before.

3. Conversations between Lewandowski and SCP-049

Interviewer: Dr. Snezhana Lewandowski, Area 19

Interviewee: SCP-049

[START RECORDING]

Dr. Lewandowski: Good afternoon, SCP-049. I am your psychologist, Dr. Snezhana Lewandowski. It's a pleasure to meet you!

SCP-049: Greetings, doctor, I hope we can work together.

Dr. Lewandowski: I think so! So, how are you feeling today?

SCP-049: (pause) I feel... A burden. A burden that is hard to describe in words. Every day I see suffering, and it depresses me.

Dr. Lewandowski: Are you talking about human suffering? About those whom you refer to as sick people?

SCP-049: Yes. The weathering is not just a physical condition. This world, this wretched piece of the universe, is forever doomed to suffer. (Irritated) Mortals, powerless over their own weaknesses, forever seek salvation in false doctrines and vain hopes. They build cities out of flimsy material, create weapons that can destroy themselves, and cling to life without realizing its true nature. I see their pain, their despair, feel their fear of the inevitable. And I know I can help them. But they don't understand. They fear me! They reject my mercy! They call me a monster, a monstrosity! I see them trying to stop me, lock me up, impose their rules. But can you limit what is beyond their comprehension? Can one defeat that which is eternal? Their attempts are futile. I will always exist. Let them resist, let them fear. It only confirms their blindness.

(A moment's silence)

Dr. Lewandowski: (Sigh)...Have you ever thought about why this “fever” bothers you so much? What exactly causes you to feel so strongly about it?

SCP-049: (sighs) I have witnessed a lot of suffering. I have seen people lose hope, I have seen them fall victim to their weakness. This makes me want to help, but sometimes I feel that my efforts are futile.

Dr. Lewandowski: Do you feel that your help is really effective? Or is there any doubt about your methods?

SCP-049: (with some irritation) My methods are the only way to free people from their suffering! I cannot afford to doubt my vocation. But sometimes... It catches up with me.

Dr. Lewandowski: It is normal to have doubts. Many people face similar feelings. What do you do to deal with these emotions?

SCP-049: I continue my work. I focus on my goals.

Dr. Lewandowski: Maybe you should take time to reflect on yourself and your feelings. It may help you better understand your motivation and calm your mind.

SCP-049: I don't think so, but... You may be right. I worry that if I stop, the darkness around me will consume everything.

Dr. Lewandowski: (Pause)...How I understand that. Sometimes you have to take a step back to see the big picture. It doesn't mean you stop fighting the disease. It can only make you stronger.

SCP-049: Perhaps...

Dr. Lewandowski: This is an important step. And remember, you are not alone in your experience. I'm here to help you make sense of it.

SCP-049: Thank you... I'll try to remember that.

[END RECORDING]

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

Interviewer: Dr. Snezhana Lewandowski, Area 19

Interviewee: SCP-049

[START RECORDING]

Dr. Lewandowski: Good evening Doctor, how are you feeling?

SCP-049: It would be better if I were allowed to return to my work.

Dr. Lewandowski: Don't worry Doctor, you will definitely be given that opportunity...

SCP-049: Really? Really!? I'm finally going back to work, I'm glad to hear that! When do I get a patient?

Dr. Lewandowski: ...Unfortunately, I don't have that information.

SCP-049: Maybe you could influence this situation? Explain my urgent need to progress with my treatment!

Dr. Lewandowski: I don't think I can... Doctor, you need to rest, you've been working hard. As a doctor, you should know that rest is very important for high productivity.

SCP-049: (Sighs) I wish I had something to do in these four walls...

Dr. Lewandowski: I have a suggestion. Do you like to read? I can bring you some books if the Foundation leadership says so.

SCP-049: That's a very marvelous idea.

Dr. Lewandowski: What kind of literature do you prefer?

SCP-049: I was interested in modern books about medicine, it is interesting to study what is being written about it now. It would be interesting to read something from philosophy.

Dr. Lewandowski: Excellent choice Doctor, we have the same taste in literature. Would you mind if I brought a couple more books on my recommendation for you?

SCP-049: Sounds good, I agree.

Dr. Lewandowski: See you, Doctor.

SCP-049: See you, thank you for such an interesting proposal, Dr. Lewandowski.

[END OF RECORDING]

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

Interviewer: Dr. Snezhana Lewandowski, Area 19

Interviewee: SCP-049

[START RECORDING]

Dr. Lewandowski: Good evening, Doctor.

SCP-049: Good evening, Dr. Lewandowski.

Dr. Lewandowski: I want to understand how you feel when you look at the world through the prism of your...your uniqueness.

SCP-049: (hesitantly) Uniqueness?

Dr. Lewandowski: I'm talking about wisdom. You have lived for centuries, watching the birth and decline of civilizations. What have you learned in that time?

(Minute's silence)

SCP-049: I've seen nations rise and fall, empires born of dust and turned to stone, ideas ignite people's hearts and turn to ash. (Pause). I realized that existence is a perpetual cycle of birth and death, a constant struggle for survival. People are so hungry for meaning, but it eludes them.

Dr. Lewandowski: Isn't this struggle, this longing for meaning, the very essence of being?

SCP-049: (With sadness in his voice) Meaning... (Pause) It wanders like a ghost through the labyrinths of our consciousness. We search for it in religion, in science, in art, but it eludes us, leaving only emptiness.

Dr. Lewandowski: But don't you see, Doctor? You create your own meaning by helping people to get rid of the disease. You believe in what you're doing, Doctor. You believe it's necessary.

SCP-049: Faith... (Pause) This is another one of those ghosts that haunt us. I see things that others do not see, and it pains me. It pains me to see the suffering that is inevitable for all living things.

Dr. Lewandowski: And you're trying to help, Doctor...

SCP-049: (Interrupting) We are but pawns in the hands of fate. Our actions are insignificant in comparison to eternity.

Dr. Lewandowski: Don't say that, Doctor. You are not a pawn. You are the creator of your own destiny. And I believe you will find your path, your meaning.

SCP-049: (Heavy sigh) But not in this place, not here, not now.

Dr. Lewandowski: (Pause) You know Doctor... I'd like to share with you a thought that has been on my mind since I was a child.

SCP-049: What is it that's bothering you?

[recording interrupted for 5 minutes]

Dr. Lewandowski: I almost forgot, the Foundation gave me permission to bring you some books.

(Took several books out of her bag and placed a stack on the table next to the subject)

SCP-049: (With joy in her voice) Glad to hear that! Immensely grateful to the Foundation and of course to you, Dr. Lewandowski.

Dr. Lewandowski: (Smiling) I'm glad it lifted your spirits. See you later, we'll be sure to discuss what we read next time.

SCP-049: I look forward to seeing you.

[END RECORDING]

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

Interviewer: Dr. Snezhana Lewandowski, Zone 19

Interviewee: SCP-049

[START RECORDING]

Dr. Lewandowski: Hello, Doctor! How are you today?

SCP-049: Good afternoon, Dr. Lewandowski. I'm feeling... quite well. I've been studying some of the books you brought me at the last meeting.

Dr. Lewandowski: Excellent! Which books did you enjoy the most?

SCP-049: I was impressed with the works on human nature. Their authors convey emotions and experiences in a very subtle way.

Dr. Lewandowski: Yes, literature can indeed be a great way to understand people. Is there anything that surprised you about these books?

SCP-049: I was surprised by how diverse human feelings are. Everyone experiences love, fear, and hope in their own way.

Dr. Lewandowski: Yes, humans are amazing creatures! What about you? Have you ever experienced something similar to love?

SCP-049: (Pause) I'm not sure. My life has been devoted to fighting the windfall, and I haven't given much thought to such feelings. But... sometimes I feel warm when I talk to you. (turns away)

Dr. Lewandowski: I'm glad to see your condition has improved markedly. I feel warm when we talk, too. (Pause) You are an unusually interesting conversationalist.

SCP-049: (surprised) Interesting? I've always thought of myself as rather... odd. But it's nice to hear you say that. You don't hear that very often in this place, in general... I've never heard it from you.

Dr. Lewandowski: Weird people can be very interesting! We all have our unique qualities. For example, your view of the world is something special, not strange. By the way, have you read that novel?

SCP-049: The Master and Margarita? Yes, an interesting work about the power of love and the struggle against darkness.

Dr. Lewandowski: I think there are so many layers and philosophical themes there. You know, you sound like the Master (Laughs).

SCP-049: Hmm... There's something, maybe, and you remind me of Marguerite.

Dr. Lewandowski: (Laughs) That's probably true. Unfortunately, I have to go. Don't forget, you deserve to be understood. And I'm here to help you do just that.

SCP-049: (With a slight sadness in his voice) Your support gives me strength.

Dr. Lewandowski: We all need each other's support.

SCP-049: I look forward to our future conversations.

[END OF RECORDING]

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

Interviewer: Dr. Snezhana Lewandowski, Area 19

Interviewee: SCP-049

[START RECORDING]

Dr. Lewandowski: Good afternoon Doctor, I would like to know what your thoughts have been occupied with lately?

SCP-049: Greetings. (Pause) Relatively recently, I've been thinking about the nature of human cruelty.

Dr. Lewandowski: Cruelty... (Pause) Unfortunately, it permeates every facet of existence, like a shadow that follows the light.

SCP-049: Yes. (Sighs) I watch people, and it makes me sad how capable they are of terrible things. There is a darkness lurking in their hearts that sometimes overshadows even the brightest impulses.

Dr. Lewandowski: As it happens, humanity is a paradox. On the one hand, it creates beautiful works of art, science and culture, and on the other hand, it is capable of ruthless acts of violence and hatred.

SCP-049: Exactly. I see how people can be kind and compassionate, but at the same time they easily cross the line into becoming instruments of destruction. It causes me deep sadness and bewilderment.

Dr. Lewandowski: I share your feelings and support your thoughts, Doctor.

SCP-049: It is most gratifying to know that, Dr. Lewandowski. My mission is to rid mankind of disease. At times I am at a loss as to what to do about this inner cruelty? How do you heal a society that is tearing itself apart?

Dr. Lewandowski: You see, many of these atrocities come from fear, ignorance and hatred. Or perhaps they were mentally wounded once, and that wound, without proper treatment, began to fester, infecting the whole mind and soul.

SCP-049: (Interested) I like the way you think. Abuse is not just physical violence. It is also words that hurt, betrayals and indifference to the suffering of others. In each of these acts I see a reflection of the disease.

Dr. Lewandowski: (Sigh) Sadly, dreams of a world where humanity can overcome its cruelty and learn to love are utopian.

SCP-049: I'm not so sure about that. It's certainly not an easy task, the whole world and one me, the road to healing is long and thorny. But the more I work at it, the closer that peace comes.

Dr. Lewandowski: (Pause) Perhaps someday people will realize that cruelty is not part of their true nature. Perhaps they will learn to see in each other a reflection of themselves and learn to care for those who suffer. Perhaps... (Pause) But sometimes you get the idea that some people are so rotten in their souls that treatment will be useless, and the only thing left to do is to rid the world of that person so they don't hurt others. This is not humane, but in such a case it is possible to make sure that this person stays alive but is not capable of hurting others.

SCP-049: (Surprised) Your thoughts make sense. We've had a rather pleasant dialog. I've never had such an in-depth discussion with anyone else. I feel much better.

Dr. Lewandowski: (Smiling) That's wonderful, Doctor, I confess I don't often have someone to talk to about this either.

[END RECORDING]

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

Interviewer: Dr. Snezhana Lewandowski, Area 19

Interviewee: SCP-049

[START RECORDING]

Dr. Lewandowski: Good afternoon, Doctor, how is your mood?

SCP-049: Greetings. My mood is a little down, without my work I'm having a hard time mentally.

Dr. Lewandowski: I'm sorry to hear that, Doctor. (Pause) Let me ask you something.

SCP-049: I'm listening to you.

Dr. Lewandowski: Do you have any pleasant memory from your life?

SCP-049: (Sighs) Unfortunately, there aren't many... (Pause) I do recall one. Yes, it was a time when I was out in the wild, searching for rare herbs and plants in the forest. No people and just the sounds of nature. And then I came to a field, a field of lavender. (Sighs) It's... It was a magical feeling. The field was filled with bright colors and the air was full of a light, slightly spicy aroma. I felt like I was in another world, away from my worries. I walked slowly among the flowers, watching the bees as they worked to gather nectar. The bees are not aware of the suffering that humans are experiencing, they are just doing their job, benefiting the world around them. It made me think: maybe that's what humanity needs - the simple pursuit of the good. (Pause) The whole day I was there. It was wonderful. I dream of being in that moment again one day.

Dr. Lewandowski: That's... It's a wonderful memory, very beautiful.

SCP-049: Yes... It's beautiful. You know, I feel a little better.

Dr. Lewandowski: (Smiling) That's wonderful to hear. Try to remember something else, good thoughts can smooth out your condition within these walls.

SCP-049: I'll try. Thank you for encouraging me to remember this.

[END RECORDING]

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Interviewer: Dr. Snezhana Lewandowski, Area 19

Interviewee: SCP-049

[START RECORDING]

Dr. Lewandowski: Good afternoon Doctor, how is your mood?

SCP-049: Good afternoon Snezka. I guess my mood is somewhere between average and good. Good to see you, how are you feeling?

Dr. Lewandowski: I'm not bad. I have something I'd like to give you. I had a hard time getting permission for it from the foundation, but....

(Took out of her bag a small pillow with a lavender flower print pillowcase and placed it on the table in front of the subject).

This is for you. I remember that you don't need sleep, but that's not what it's for. Rather it is for coziness, and your favorable mood. This pillow is stuffed with lavender.

SCP-049: (Surprised) It's for me?! What a wonderful gift, lavender really calms me down.

Dr. Lewandowski: I'm glad the gift is useful to you. I would have brought you something else, but unfortunately the Foundation has only authorized this one so far.

SCP-049: I am honored by such attention, thank you, Dr..... Snezka. (Pause) ...How did I not notice that... Your last name is...

Dr. Lewandowski: (Interested) Hmm?

SCP-049: Lewandowski, that last name comes from the Old Polish word levanda, which means lavender. What a wonderful coincidence, my favorite plant.

Dr. Lewandowski: (Smiles) Yes, that's right, my favorite too by the way. I am amazed at your knowledge, Doctor!

SCP-049: It is a pleasure to be appreciated and understood by you. I must admit, you are not out of my mind.

Dr. Lewandowski: (Embarrassed) Oh... You know, it's mutual. Doctors aren't supposed to have favorites, but I have to admit...(Pause) You're my favorite patient.

(momentary silence)

SCP-049: I wish we could meet more often...

Dr. Lewandowski: I'd like that too, Doctor...

[END OF RECORDING]

Supplement

https://www.tumblr.com/snezka-049/766312832505626624/snezka-and-doctor-reference-and-lore-scp-049?source=share

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