#I am so on board with every observation

[reidrum]

i think he knows

A/N: more doctor!reader!!!!!!! can you tell i love them. if you have requests for them please send them my way thank you <3

summary: in which spencer and reader try to find time for each other to have their first date

cw: doctor!reader, fluff, spencer being a flirt, medical talk

wc: 2.5k

A month passes before Spencer gets to see you again. A long, long month.

He stayed in the hospital for observation for another two days after meeting you, which were entirely medically necessary but don’t ask Spencer how his chest pain stopped the moment he signed the discharge papers because they just couldn’t keep him any longer. He knows it’s illogical, and a bit immoral, to fake symptoms for his personal gain. But who could blame him, had they seen you?

You didn’t make it any easier on him either, the times you’d check on him you’d leave him red for hours. Morgan had gotten suspicious seeing him be surprisingly high in spirits for someone who just got shot. You’d even talked to the nurses to get him extra jello, a love language in its own.

But his daydream was soon shattered upon his discharge, where he couldn’t just lay in a hospital bed and wait for you to come to him. He was to be sent to exile (home) to finish out the rest of his sentence (recovery), while he so agonizingly waits for the next chance to see you again.

The first day back home was already enough to send him into house fever, and he couldn’t even freely pace off the nervous energy because of his leg. You had given him your number, which meant he had to text you. It was a lot of pressure. He knew his assignment and yet couldn’t figure out what the right thing to start off this conversation with you should be.

Should he be formal and hit you with a simple Hello. Or give a bit of a flirty edge and add a heart emoji—one that Penelope taught him how to do, thank you very much. No, he should probably introduce himself since you don’t have his number. So you don’t think a random freak is trying to message you.

He types out a message and sends it before he can second guess himself anymore.

Spencer: Hey there, this is Spencer. Room 207?

Spencer flips his phone face down so he doesn’t manically check the notifications for your reply. You’re busy, you could be in surgery or doing rounds, or sleeping on a break or—Ding!

Or typing out a reply to him, perhaps.

You: Hi Spencer ☺️ how are you feeling? Spencer: Better now, how are you? You: Better now ;)

Oh, you’re everything to him.

Spencer: Are you on a break or am I bothering you? You: Lying down in an on call room bed! I love when you bother me please don’t stop

He actually giggles aloud, thank god he lives alone.

Spencer: Good, because I was running out of medical emergencies to fake just to get to see you again. You: Gasp, faking? Sweet talking works well on me, don’t get me wrong, but I might have to report you to the medical board. Spencer: I’m not that kind of doctor so I don’t think they’ll care, plus I think once they see you were my doctor they’ll side with me. You: Flattery will get you everywhere Spencer Reid be careful. Spencer: I’m sure hoping it does.

It goes on like that for a few weeks, to Spencer’s delight. Back and forth texting, the blatant flirting on both ends and his poor but endearing attempts to match it. He wants to get to know every part of you, and thankfully you’re just as curious as he is, so every waking minute either of you aren’t working ends up being spent by talking with each other.

Not just the casual things like where you grew up or where you went to school. No, he’s learned what your go to coffee shop order is, what latent hobbies you have hidden under your belt, what your favorite movie is and the specific line that makes it your favorite.

He’s told you about his favorite Doctor Who episodes—which you made him promise to show you someday, showed you pictures of his mom and his godson, his go to Indian food order for the place down from the office.

While Spencer loves talking to you, it’s simply not enough. He has to see you soon or he might combust spontaneously. He might do that anyway but it’s much more noble to have a good and valid reason to perish in such a way, like being in your presence.

Spencer: Hey, can I ask you something? You: Uh oh, I don’t like the sound of that. Spencer: Nothing bad, pinky promise. You: Ugh, the most sacred of promises <3 Okay, let’s hear it. Spencer: Are you free this Friday? You: AH I thought you’d never ask!! I am so free this friday night doctor, setting out my best dress just for you ;) Spencer: I’m sure everything you wear is beautiful, but I’m looking forward to seeing you again :) I’ll pick you up at 7? You: I’ll be waiting <333

He asks you out officially on Monday, and he spends the rest of the week praying to whatever unsub or case gods that are out there watching to calm down this week so they don’t get whisked away on a case. Tuesday through Wednesday only consisted of paperwork, and it gives him hope he might actually make it to Friday and finally get to see you. Even Morgan and Emily’s teasing of his suddenly happy mood can’t bring him down.

Thursday night comes around and he’s about ready to jump for joy as he finishes packing up his things. JJ walks by and he’s about to say goodbye to her when she waves a manila folder in the air, “Sorry Spence, conference room in 5.”

He deflates. So close.

Spencer lets his satchel slide off his shoulder and reluctantly pulls his phone out to open his message thread with you.

Spencer: Hi, I’m really sorry to do this but we just got called on a case. Do you think we could reschedule dinner? You: Hi handsome, don’t worry I understand. The world needs you crime fighters :) I’m free next friday?

He tries to ignore the way his heart stutters reading ‘handsome’ and types.

Spencer: I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Next Friday sounds great.  You: Be safe out there please Spencer: Always am. You: Need I remind you we met because you got shot on the job Spencer: That was one time, and I told the guy to shoot me. You: Yeah, that’s not making me feel better. Spencer: I’ll be safe, getting to see you next week will be my motivation to be extra careful. You: I’d hope you’re being careful regardless but whatever works for you, handsome <3 Spencer: Got a pretty girl waiting for me, I have to take extra precautions. You: Oooh that was good, you’re getting better at this Dr. Reid. Spencer: What can I say, you make it really easy. Spencer: Okay I have to go for the briefing, talk to you soon. You: Bye handsome 💞

The case comes and goes, an easy solve but it took a few more days than the team would like to admit for a case of this caliber. They return back only a week later and it’s another Thursday night where he’s hoping nothing steps in to prevent him from seeing you. He’s lucky in the sense that nothing is stepping in to prevent him from seeing you, FBI mandated break and all after a long case.

He’s not so lucky when you regretfully tell him you’re scheduled for surgery all day on Friday. You’re entirely too apologetic for his liking, for someone who flaked on you initially and had to alter your schedule to his. Especially for someone who, of all people, understands the busy lifestyles you both lead. He reassures you a thousand times over that it’s okay and that you can reschedule.

Spencer: Please stop apologizing, it’s okay I promise You: I just feel soooo bad. I was really looking forward to seeing you. Spencer: I know. But we’ll see each other soon. You: Promise? Spencer: Pinky. Did you eat anything? You: No I wasn’t hungry, too sad about not seeing your face. Spencer: A poor reason to starve yourself, I’m ordering food for you. Are you at the hospital? You: I’m at home but you don’t have to do that. Spencer: Okay but I want to, are you going to give me your address or will I have to find it myself? You: How are you going to do that? Spencer: I have my ways. You: It’s your tech analyst friend isn’t it Spencer: Maybe. You: So if I share your address it’s a HIPPA violation but when you do it no one bats an eye. Spencer: It’s for a worthy cause. Please let me do this. You: Fiiine. 1563 Rock Lakes blvd. What are you getting? Spencer: Thank you, honey. Pad thai with chicken satay. You: Ugh, you know me so well <3

To yours and Spencer’s dismay, this pattern continues on for another few weeks. Whenever your schedule finally clears, he gets dragged away on a case. When his schedule is clear you have back to back surgeries or consults. It’s like you just can’t get the timing right, no matter how hard you pine for each other.

The doubt travels and festers in both of your heads, the blatant evidence showing you that this may not work between you. Thing is, you both love your jobs too much to even try to accommodate the other. You’re both so busy you can’t even find time for one evening alone together.

Then George Foyet happened. The Haley Hotchner of it all, happened.

It hit the entire team hard, watching a colleague they viewed as family lose someone they loved so deeply and in such a torturous way. Spencer forced himself to take a step back and really evaluate what he was doing—was he willing to subject someone he cared about to the world he lives in? To the horrors they become exposed to? He still thinks about the heart attack he had when the Fisher King sent his mom a key after being in the same facility with her for some time. He’s not sure he can handle that kind of fear again.

Spencer knows he doesn’t have to do this, it’s so early in whatever this is between you both. You haven’t even had time to go on a date. Maybe your lives are just incompatible. Maybe he can save you before he ever even puts you in danger’s way—the ultimate act of valiant efforts in the form of preemptive measures. 

What you don’t know can’t hurt you, literally.

Ding!

But then you go and do something like this, where he gets to flip his phone over and blush red in the face at your name on the notification. That he gets to open his messages and be met with the beautiful sight of your face, smiling in a picture you took just for him showing off the coffee you got on your break and reading the book he recommended to you a few weeks ago.

And he’s just not sure if he can imagine a world where he doesn’t meet you and immediately fall in love with you.

Another week, another attempt at finally being able to take you on a date. Except this time fate has stepped in on both ends and sent Spencer on another case and you scheduled for surgery. Lovely.

The case goes fine again, save for the unsub with an overt penchant for clipping FBI agents aiming their guns at him. Enough damage to send him to the ER needing stitches on his forehead and a concussion evaluation.

The doctor seeing him was a good doctor, but he wasn’t you. It was a man who, no offense to him and his medical training, definitely did not have hands as soft as yours stitching him up. He sighs out loud in the ER as he waits for a nurse to come by and discharge him. God, he wishes it was you. 

“Seeing other doctors behind my back? I thought we had something special, Dr. Reid.”

He has half a mind to look up at the sky and mouth God?, as he feels his prayers have been answered in the most literal way.

“What are you doing here?” he asks incredulously, fully in disbelief at the sight of you in front of him.

You smile and step towards him, closing the curtain behind you, “I told you, I had surgery.”

“In Maryland?”

“In Maryland,” you nod, “They needed someone with my background to help out so I flew out.”

God, you’re so smart it physically hurts him how attractive it is.

“How’d you know I was here?”

“I didn’t, I was looking at the patient log to see if they needed help in the ER when I saw an S. Reid age 27 in bed 4 and thought to myself ‘This couldn’t be a coincidence.’”

He chuckles softly, “Well, you found me.”

“That I did,” you lean in to inspect his cuts, “I thought I told you to be careful, handsome.”

The blood rushes to his face, “I know, maybe I just knew I’d get to see you this way.”

You gently readjust the butterfly bandage on his forehead, securing it more tightly. “You could have called me if you missed me, Spence.” you whisper.

“You were busy.”

“So were you.”

Spencer pauses, “Are you busy now?”

You step back and look at his face, his borderline puppy eyes doing the most to convince you to say yes when you were about to ask him the same thing in about another minute if he hadn’t. 

You grin widely and check your watch, “I clock out in an hour. Wait for me?”

“Always.”

It makes all the missed connections and unaligned schedules entirely worth it when he gets to finally pick you up from your hotel room for your date turned into a weekend getaway. Spencer doesn’t even bat an eye when Morgan teases him about the mystery lady he’s staying back in Maryland for, or when Hotch gives him a multilayered nod of approval when he asks for a few personal days.

It’s entirely worth it and more when you and Spencer drive up to a lake house to spend the weekend together, and you joke about how your first date ended up being your first trip as a couple. Spencer doesn’t even stumble when you refer to yourselves as a couple, just tightening his arm around your shoulder and kissing the crook of your neck softly.

It’s the most worth it when, even after you said you were a couple, on the last night after staying up watching Doctor Who reruns post other activities, Spencer curls his arm around your body tugging you closer to his and whispers into your hair, “You will be my girlfriend, right?”

To which you simply beam up at him and whisper into his neck, “Of course, handsome.”

[criminalyapping]

due for trouble | the secret’s out

the pitt masterlist main masterlist

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader

a/n: finally time for some other beloved pitt characters to join the fray!! also can you tell i’m not the most knowledgeable about how buying a house actually work? bc i can lol

next time is baby shower!!

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, age gap, language

< part 12 | part 14 >

At work, most of Jack’s personal life remains a mystery. He considers himself close to Robby, being genuine friends outside of the walls of the hospital. The others, not so much.

The bottom line is that Jack’s a private guy, and doesn’t want to air out his business to be discussed and speculated about down every hallway of the hospital.

One thing he does love, though, is the feeling of smug satisfaction he feels when he surprises people.

“Ellis, Shen,” he calls to his night-shift coworkers as he sees them, backpacks on and ready to leave early in the morning.

They both turn towards him, waiting.

“What are you guys doing on Saturday afternoon?” he asks.

They both open their mouths to speak, but Jack interrupts them before they can make a sound.

“Well, you’re invited to a baby shower, so actually don’t do anything,” he instructs with a carefully crafted look on neutrality on his face. “My house, 1pm.” he finishes with a smile.

The two doctors in front of him gape, questioning looks on their faces as they stare him down. He keeps his smile bright.

Shen snaps out of it first, unflappable as always.

“Cool man, I’ll be there.” he agrees.

Ellis shakes her head in disbelief.

“I’m sorry, I’ll need a few more details,” she says sarcastically, “what?”

“A baby shower.” Jack reiterates.

“Yeah, I got that. For who?” she asks.

“Typically they’re kind of for a baby.” he replies matter of factly.

“Oh my god,” she mutters under her breath. “Who’s pregnant?” she asks.

“My girlfriend.” he tells her with another smile.

“You-“ she stutters, “since when do you-?” she stops herself. Sighing and rolling out her tense shoulders. “Whatever, I’ll be there.” she agrees.

“Awesome, thanks, I’ll send you guys my address.” he smiles, leaving them standing there with unanswered questions as he walks back toward the hub, looking for Robby.

He finds him, hands on his hips as he observes the boards. They had already done turnover, so the ED is alight with movement and all the day shift doctors.

“Hey man,” Jack greets as he claps Robby on the back.

“Hey,” Robby greets as he takes on his glasses.

Dana looks up from her computer, eyeing Jack skeptically.

“You better get out of here Jack, we know you and sunlight don’t get along.” she jokes.

“Yeah, yeah; I’m getting better about it, though.” he says, pointing at her.

“Baby shower, Saturday at one, can you make it?” he asks Robby.

His friend nods his head, “Yeah, yeah I’ll get it covered.” he agrees.

“Invite whoever isn’t working from day shift, just send ‘em my address, they’re all invited.” he tells Robby.

Dana slides herself along the counter closest to the two, looking at Jack expectantly.

“I’m sorry,” she starts, “I think my ears are playing tricks on me. Baby shower?” she asks.

Jack nods. “Obviously, you’re invited too, I hope you’re not working Saturday.”

“I’m not.” she says, deadpan. “You’re having a baby?” she asks, a wide smile crawling over her face.

“Sure am.” he confirms, a matching smile on his.

“Well I’ll be…” she trails off with a grin.

“Invite the people,” he says, turning back to Robby, “and come early to set up.” he tells him.

“Aye aye, captain.” he agrees.

Jack turns and leaves, watching as Dana’s eyes turn to Robby with a look like she’s about to sink her information-seeking claws into him and not let go.

He heads home, eats a quick breakfast, and falls asleep hard.

He’s in the trenches of trying to buy that house, so he wakes up earlier than he wants to be able to exchange some messages with the working public while the day isn’t almost over. Working night shift makes doing normal human tasks much more difficult.

He’s able to exchange a few texts with you while you work, smiling as you tell him about your work problems.

You had sent Jack pictures of decorations you wanted for the baby shower, so he picks himself off the couch to head to a party supply store.

Yes honey, whatever you want honey, he had told you when you stressed to high heaven about how you would have enough time to get all the decorations, send invitations, cook the food, and set up for the party before Saturday came. He volunteered to get the decorations, assured you that you don’t need invitations, and asked what food you wanted to be catered, not made my either of them.

He enjoyed life much more when you weren’t stressed about things that didn’t need to be stressed about, and happily does whatever he can to take some of the stress off of your shoulders.

Today is shaping up to be a good day, he thinks, after dropping the baby bomb on his coworkers, successfully buying everything on the list you had made for him, and especially now, he things looking down at his phone.

He had just gotten an email from his realtor that his offer on the house was accepted, and he was now under contract. With how quickly that went, he has a sliver of hope that they could move in before they have their December baby.

Right now, Jack Abbot could not be happier with his life, and can’t wait for Saturday.

tagging: @michasia24 @veggieburgerwrites @bruher @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @catmomstyles3 @qardasngan @fuckalrighty @rae4725 @beebeechaos @thatssomebadhat89 @cari87 @livingdeadblondequeen @wowitsafemale @neonpurplestars89-blog @starswin @celiacallsitcausal @vinceelser @glamorizethechaos @nerdgirljen @namgification @li22ie2017 @misshoneypaper @gardeniarose13 @peachjellyy @babybatreads @spooky-librarian-ghost @foolishseven @cannonindeez @wisps-writes-fic

let me know if you want a tag, too!

[limarkova]

Yandere Batfam x Neglected Reader x Yandere Al Ghuls

Pt 2.

Prev Next

*Author's note: OMG. Thank you guys so much for all the engagement on the first part. I didn’t think my first post would get that much reaction. Also yes I am spree writing this is! If you notice a mistake let me know. PS, the school named in this chapter is fictional and does not exist in the real world.

Alfred listened to the ringing phone line waiting for Bruce to answer. Seeing Miss (Name) in the hallway had been a surprise. He was fairly certain she was supposed to be away at Miss Rose's Boarding School for Young Woman in STEM. After two years of studying in the UK it was strange to have her appear without any notice. Especially since she hadn't visited or sent word in the past.

"Hello Alfred." The line stopped ringing and Alfred was greeted by Bruce.

"Master Bruce. Have you gotten any word from (Name)'s School about a sudden break in the school year?"

"No, why?" Alfred narrowed his eyes at the phone. Well that didn't make sense. Surely her school would notify them if she left.

Alfred began going through his memories. When was the last time Miss Rose's had called the manor? He couldn't seem to recall, they did have the manor's house number on file. "Well she just arrived at the manor and get into a bit of a scuffle with Master Damian. He thought she was an intruder and because I didn't know about her return I couldn't inform him about her in advance. Thankfully she seems unharmed but that was not a good foot to start their sibling relationship on."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "That’s odd, we should have received some kind of notice. Alfred can you call Miss Rose's to see what's going on. I'll wrap up business here quickly and be on the next flight home."

"I will see to it sir." The phone call ended. As Alfred began looking for the correct number to call next, Dick came into the room.

"Hey Alfred, why didn't you tell me baby bird was coming back?" Dick gestured behind him towards the kitchen.

Alfred shook his head slightly, typing in the school's name on Google. "I was not aware she was returning today."

Dick blinked twice, "Wait, what? Her school is in Australia, how did she get on an international flight with no one being aware of it?"

"Her school isn't in Australia." Alfred's eyebrows scrunched together. Dick's mouth made an 'o' shape before clamping into a thin line. Alfred narrowed his eyes at the look before correcting Dick, "Her school is in Birmingham, UK."

"Right, right. Umm, still though how did she get back here without anyone being notified. Even than it's the middle of October, shouldn't classes still be in session." Dick placed his hand to his chin. His eyes took on the focus look he got when he was working on a case or solving a puzzle. Alfred finally got the number written down. Dick looked up at Alfred. There was this dawning look on his face, "Hey Alfred."

"Yes Master Dick."

"Something is really wrong here, we need to keep an eye on her."

Alfred nodded listening to another phone line ringing in his ear, "I agree."

You had to come up with a plan. Escaping the facilities hadn't happened because of rash promises of passion. No it took a year of observation, planning, and waiting. It took you learning every detail that had been place in front of you. Yes you had emotions and gave yourself little dramatic moments but you can't live there.

You grabbed an abandoned notebook on your desk. It was covered in stickers with the first three pages being scribbled on. You ripped them out before beginning to write out everything you knew about the facilities. One they had access to all kinds of medical equipment but it was older equipment that struggled to work sometimes. Two the gaurds were heavily arm with scratched up weapons. The scratching was probably where the serial numbers would've been. Third they had issues getting supplies from a Sionis. Fourth it was based in Gotham evidenced by you being able to find the manor days after escape.

On the next page you wrote out your family member's names. You also add in the new people, Duke Thomas and Damian Wayne. You had written down Talia but stopped to think for a minute.

Yes, your father had likely cheated on your mom with her. But did that make her guilty of destroying your mom's romance? Did she even know about your mother? Maybe your mom was the reason she left causing that line in your mother's diary. Even than you need to focus on the experiments. You could worry about your mother's betrayal later. You scratched Talia off the list.

When you flipped to the next page, there was a soft knock on your door. It creaked open revealing Duke. He offered you a soft smile as he poked his head into your room. "Hey, are you doing okay?"

You looked him up and down. Duke was new to manor and you still couldn't tell if he was visiting or lived here now. A small part of you questioned if he knew about your kidnapping. Did any of your siblings actually know what happeneded or had Bruce just told them the boarding school lie? Did he plan to do it to them too once you proved a success?

You turned back to your notebook scribbling the questions. You'd need to look into during your investigation, "I'm fine."

"I heard about Damian attacking you in the hallway." Duke inched into your room. You turned back a page and underlined Damian's name. Even if he had nothing to do with your suspicions about your father, you were not going let him act like him towards you. Duke chuckled nervously behind you, prompt you to close the book. Can't have them finding out... yet. "Is there someway I can maybe cheer you up? I mean you're clearly upset about something and I want to help if I possibly can?"

He continued to ramble on. You looked around your room as he talked. Eyes landing on your closet you had a slight realization. In your time at the experiments, you had grown. They may have torture you but they hadn't starved you. After all they need you healthy to ensure 'proper' results. The only clothes you had that fit you were probably the ones you were wearing. "Actually there is something."

"Oh! Yeah, what do you need?" Duke smiled brightly. It was as if his teeth were glowing with inner light. If your siblings and by proxy Duke had been told a lie, playing along with it would be smart. After all planning and observing meant staying unnoticed. You offer an unsure smile hoping it would play into what you were saying, "It's a long story but I left the boarding school in a hurry so I completely forgot to pack clothes."

"Okay." Duke made a weird face. Crap, that's not good.

"Yeah and I had a grow spurt so, most of my clothes here don't fit me anymore." You rubbed the back of your neck. Duke's face shifted into realization at your words. Crisis averted for now. You plowed ahead to keep him from asking about the school, making up a lie was not a good idea right now when you knew nothing about theirs. "I need to go clothes shopping. Can you take me to the mall?"

"Of course. What time did you want to go?" Duke made an awkward finger gun gesture towards. He looked tense. Not the tense you saw from the gaurds when you started pressing the line. It was more like the intern in the experiments who never looked at you directly.

You grabbed your notebook and stood. There's was a small backpack by your desk. You slid the book in before sling the bag over your shoulder, "Can we go now?"

"Yeah, let me just stop by my room to grab my keys and wallet." Duke held the door open for you. The walk to his room was quiet and slightly tense.

When he stopped at a door on the second floor you couldn't stop yourself from blurting, "So, you live here?"

"Oh yeah." He walked into the- his room. There were a few posters and some knick knacks on the few bookcases. More importantly there were moving boxes in the corner. Some of them were disassembled but a few were still intact with clothes scattered around them. In fact most of the room was covered in stary papers, clothes, etc. Duke grimaced, "Haha, I just moved in two months ago. Let's agree to not tell Alfred about the mess."

"He probably already knows and is silently judging you." A nervous laugh bubbled out of your stomach. The information swirled inside of you uneasily. Two months was awhile but not long in the grand scheme of things. Plus if Alfred didn't mention you than Duke probably didn't know anything. That would make him innocent in your kidnapping.

"Ahh here they are!" Duke's voice broke you out of the mixed up thoughts in your head. He was holding a silver chain with a dark brown wallet and several keys hanging from it. In his search he had basically ripped apart his laundry basket. He kicked the mess back towards the now mostly empty basket, "You ready?"

"Yeah. Can we get something to eat well we're out?" You felt ridiculous asking. It was another stark reminder of how normal everything but you felt.

Yet Duke didn't hesitate to smile at you and offer his hand, "Heck yeah. There's this awesome pizza place in the mall the serves the biggest slices I've ever seen."

"I don't remember the last time I had pizza."

"No way! Let's go, we need to get you a slice ASAP. This is a pizza emergency." Maybe you could make a new normal with him. Once you destroyed the experiments. Duke Thomas was officially off your list for now.

Something had shifted in Duke. He remembered asking his parents for a little sibling when he was four maybe five. They had kissed him on the forehead and told him that they didn't need another kid when they had a perfect one in front them. It had made him feel happy for a little bit but he always held that small hope.

He thought he would get that with Damian. To a degree he did but it didn’t feel right. Damian was too competitive and strong willed. Duke didn't feel like a big brother, he felt like a contestant at worst, a good friend at best.

Taking (Name) to the mall today had made him feel like a big brother. Seeing her slowly relax around him and get excited over tiny things. Like the cute dress at Justice, the pizza slice that was as big as her head, and the look on her face when she saw Barnes & Noble. He probably spent his whole allowance for the week but he didn't care. He had made his little sister happy.

They had one last stop to make before going home, Claire's. Duke insisted that she look around well he grabbed something. He went straight to friendship necklaces. There were quite a few to choose from. Crystals, Cats, The Wicked Musical. Than he saw it. Two pastel tie-dye koalas hugging each, it was perfect. Duke immediately grabbed it before going to find her.

That's when he noticed something was wrong. She was staring at something and shaking violently. The look in her eyes told him that she had gone off somewhere else mentally. He looked towards what she was looking at to see the piercing station.

There was an attendant cleaning off a newly open needle. The smell of alcohol wipes and disinfectant clear in air. He placed himself in between her and sight. "What’s wrong, kiddo?"

"I wanna go home." (Name) didn't speak above a tight whisper. Something in Duke began howling. This was wrong, she shouldn't be scared. He was there to protect her.

"Okay, but first I need you to tell me something. Where are you?" Duke tried to remember what they do for Jason when he gets like this. Fuck why was it so hard to remember grounding right now.

"I don't like needles." Her eyes flicked to his. They were wide and blaring with barely contained rage.

"That’s okay, but I need you to tell me where we are." Her eyes narrowed and her mouth tighten. He continued on, "I need to know you're here with me. Mentally."

"The Mall."

"We can go." Duke grabbed her hand gently. They paid and left. Once they were in the car, she relaxed again. Duke palmed the necklace in his hand. He had taken it out of the package. His own necklace was already around his neck.

She was staring out the window. The look in her eyes made Duke pause. She was watching the setting sun like it was first time she was seeing it. Mute awe painted her face like a classical painting. Duke pulled the little koala out of his pocket, "Hey, I got you something."

"Is it half the back seat?" She looked behind her to the bags. Barnes & Noble, The Childern's Place, Justice, and Build-a-Bear. Four places that equated to Five separate bags. Duke snorted before bursting out laughing.

"No. Jeez no, it's this." He held out the little koala necklace to her. Her eyes looked towards his own chest, where the other koala already hung. A friendship necklace. She took it into her hands gently. That classical painting look returning, mixes of sentimental joy and some unnamed human emotion that was baffling.

"Thank you, Duke."

"It's no problem." Duke wrapped his arm around her in an weird side hug over the center console. He had always wanted a little sibling and now that he had one he was never to going let her go.

"We might want to get back to manor before curfew." (Name) pointed to the digital display announcing 6:15pm. Duke cursed, shoving his keys into the ignition. She began to laugh hysterical. The manor was two hours away and 'curfew' aka patrol debrief was at 7pm. Duke flew out of the parking lot with manically laughing ten-year-old.

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@stove-top96 @00hellohello00 @mysticalhills

[miniseokminnies]

the gambit —- y.jh

♙ pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader ♙ genre: enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, 1960s au, university au, chess club president!jeonghan, club member!yn ♙ wc: ~12.5k ♙ warnings: 18+ MDNI, sexism (it's the 1960s), heavily implied reader is a virgin, unprotected sex (that's a no no), oral sex [f. receiving], fingering, pet names, praise kink, marking, drinking and getting drunk, a lot of rude men ♙ a/n: this is obviously VERY LOOSELY inspired by The Queen's Gambit lol. give jeonghan a chance he's learning okay?? thank you to my army of beta readers: @haologram, @lovetaroandtaemin, @highvern, and @tomodachiii i genuienly would not have this posted without them. ♙tags: @seungkw1, @cherry-zip, @crab-ranjun, @myhimbomingi oh and happy holidays i guess (i wanted to have this out way sooner) enjoy! and as always comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated

Three succinct knocks rang out as you rapped your knuckles against the door frame. The man alone inside the room looked in your direction. Looking him over you noticed his striking features that were delicately framed by his black hair that was only a bit shorter than your own. 

“Are you lost, miss?” He straightened up, “Sorority recruitment is across the hall.” He turned back to setting up the chess set on the table in front of him. 

“What?” you asked, confused, “No, this is the chess club, is it not?” 

“It is,” he didn’t bother looking in your direction this time. 

“Then I am in the right place,” you took a few steps into the room as he looked up at you again. 

“Girls don’t play chess.” he stifled a laugh. 

“There’s nothing in the university rules against gir-women joining recreational clubs.” You watched him sigh and snatch a notebook off the table. 

“Look,” he walked closer to you and held out the notebook, “you may watch” 

“I have my own notebook, thank you.” You turned on your heel and huffed into a chair near a chess set across the room. The man watched you for a moment before turning back to his task of setting up the chess boards. You could only assume that he was the president of the club, but could not wrap your head around why he was voted in.  

After waiting for a few moments several more boys began trickling into the room, all of them giving you a once over. Have these people never seen a girl before? 

“Excuse me miss,” one of the boys approached you and sat at the board nearest to you, “I’m Minghao”

“Y/N,” you nodded and scribbled his name down in your book. You could feel Minghao’s eyes on you, but you didn’t feel as though you owed him any explanation.  After a few minutes another boy who introduced himself as Wonwoo joined Minghao at the table. 

The president announced that the meeting today would function “tournament style” and everyone should get the chance to have a match with each other. Perfect.  

Wonwoo and Minghao played well, but Wonwoo had a bad habit of leaving his queen unprotected and Minghao always overutilized his rook. In the end, even with a queen out in the open, Wonwoo found a checkmate. 

Minghao was unhappy with this result and challenged him to a rematch outside of club time which Wonwoo eagerly agreed to.  You were finishing up your notes on their match when two new men appeared at your table introducing themselves as Mark and Yunho.  

The remaining matches went by quickly, you felt the president’s eyes on you every so often, he wondered what you could possibly be taking such detailed notes about when you weren’t even playing.  Men came and went, all politely introducing themselves to you, clearly they don’t take after their fearless leader in any capacity.  

The “tournament” went on for a few hours, your ass was starting to go numb from the chair by the time it was called in favor of the president, who peculiarly you never had the opportunity to observe.  He dismissed the club and they all filtered out as you finished up your notes. You heard his footsteps approaching as you dotted the last punctuation on the page.  

“So?” he started smugly, “Enjoy your observations?” he watched as you ripped out several pages of your own notebook.  You rose out of your seat and square your shoulders, you shoved the pages into his chest and left the room without another word. He watched you leave the room, your skirt swishing around your knees.  

Tearing his eyes from the door he looked down at the papers you left him.  He read over them and quickly realized what it was you were doing all this time.  Each member was written down and in detail you scrawled out every single missed check from each and every game played here today.  

The bottom of the page reads “The President: ?”      

“What are you doing?” your roommate, Cami, flopped around in her bed, “It’s the first month of classes, there’s no way you have course work already”

“I don’t” you moved your rook, not looking away from the board, “Remember how I told you I was going to join the chess club?”

“Yes?” 

“Well the stupid president won’t let me play” you captured white’s queen, “so I’m not able to practice with anyone” you heard her throw her blankets around and the clatter of her hand hitting her glasses, 

“What?” she hissed, “he can’t do that can he?” she sat up in bed

“I mean,” you finally looked up at her, “He didn’t technically bar me from joining”  

“Look at you” she scoffed, “Making you just sit there and watch when you’re the best player like ever!”

“I am nowhere near the best, Cami.” 

“Well” she protested, “You’re the best player I know!”

“I’m the only player you know,” you laughed. 

“Not true!” she hopped off her bed, “Teach me.” She pulled out her desk chair and pulled it next to you.  You quirk an eyebrow at her, “Seriously! Teaching is great practice plus you keep me awake with this dreadful lamp anyway” 

You swipe all of the pieces from the board and begin to set them back up in their proper places, you set the black in place and invite Cami to mirror them with the white on the other side.  Starting off you teach her some simple and popular openings.  For as airy as she tends to be she is an attentive listener and is able to grasp the basics quickly.  

You feel like you could cry, no one has truly taken this much of an interest in you, besides your parents and some friends from high school.  When you first moved in with Cami you were worried she would join a sorority on campus and never be around, and while you like your alone time, being alone is a difficult task.  

“And how do you win?” Cami asked once the board was scarce with pieces.  

“You need a successful and all encompassing check,” you move your queen to trap her king sufficiently, “Like this one, check mate” you reach over and softly lay the king on the board. 

From your usual chair in the back of the room you strain to listen to the conversation happening between Wonwoo and the president, who you learned recently was named Jeonghan.  The discussion looked heated and Wonwoo was hesitating at the door frame like a child being scolded.  

Jeonghan threw his hands up, exasperated, and turned to make a beeline for you.  You fumbled about trying to get your notebook open and to a page to make it look like you weren’t just eavesdropping. 

“You heard all of that I’m assuming,” he asked gruffly, “You’re not as subtle as you would like to think.” 

“What?” you blinked up at him.  He bent down to get closer to your face, 

“Don’t play dumb, we both know you aren’t,” he nearly growled, “You were listening to that entire conversation” 

“I was trying to,” you admitted with a roll of your eyes, “I couldn’t hear a thing from over here,” He backs away from you and makes a subtle noise of approval.  

“You’re with Minghao today,” he said as he was turning to leave, which made you shoot up out of your chair.  

“I actually get to play?” You blurted out, which caused him to turn back to you, 

“Yeah,” he scoffed at your enthusiasm, “Uneven numbers, Minghao needs a partner, Wonwoo had to go tutor our idiot friend Mingyu, I guess” You made a mental note to thank whoever Mingyu was profusely if you were to ever meet him.  Jeonghan took your silence as an invitation to leave this conversation,as if he had ever needed one before.  

You glanced around the room until you found Minghao’s eyes on you.  

“Hi,” You offered your hand for him to shake as you approached his table.  He easily took your hand and shook it.  

“Sit, sit” he insisted, “It’s an honor to be the first to play you, sorry it’s under weird circumstances,” he chuckles awkwardly.    

You told Minghao not to worry about the circumstances, you were just happy to be playing after weeks of sitting around watching.  With this he began the game, he utilized a simple opener and your first capture came quickly.  This wasn’t to say that Minghao wasn’t a good player and didn’t put up a fight.  

You, however, were hungry to show everyone here that you were not to be messed with. Minghao felt that you were two steps ahead of him the entire match, he didn’t understand how it felt like you were in his head and knew his moves.  If it wasn’t so impressive he would be infuriated. 

He didn’t even mind that you baited him quickly into a checkmate.  He wanted to see you beat Jeonghan, to wipe the winning streak clean.  Even more, he wanted to see Jeonghan get beat by a freshman, a wickedly smart and kind of scary freshman.    

“What are you doing?” Jeonghan asked from across the room where he was putting pieces back into boxes, “I need to clean that up and I can’t very well do that when you’re still using it”

“Minghao almost beat me” You mumbled, not looking up from the board.  You hear Jeonghan sigh and walk toward you.  

“Almosts don’t matter in chess, you either win or you don’t” he swiped your notebook from under your elbow, “And you won” 

“Give it back, Yoon, I’m not in the mood” you attempted to grab it back from him.  

“When are you ever,” he snorted, holding the book over his head. You shot out of your chair.

“Give it back!” you attempted to reach for it, “I’m trying to find weaknesses in my game and you’re acting like a child!” 

“Fine,” he lowered the book with a look in his eyes that let you know that this would not be that easy, “play me then” You blinked at him, 

“Really?” 

“You’re looking for weaknesses in your game, play me” he pulled out the chair recently vacated by Minghao and sat down, “Well? I don’t have all night." You took your seat, studying Jeonghan’s face.  He has never been across from you as your opponent, let alone offered a match. He passes your notebook back to you and watches as you carefully turn to a new page, crack the spine, and scrawl out his name and the date at the top of the page.  

You carefully move your first pawn, which in return Jeonghan moves his, beginning the dance.  Your second pawn takes its place and you hear your opponent chuckle.  

“What?” you spat defensively.  

“Oh nothing,” he hides his smile with his hand, “you’re just predictable, you always start with attempting a queen’s gambit”.  Heat rushes to your cheeks and you immediately know you are at a disadvantage, Jeonghan knows your game and you know nothing of his.  He delicately moves a second pawn forward, “Queen’s gambit declined” he sits back in his chair, thinking he already has you beat.  

The first capture of the match is in you taking his first pawn, he returns the favor by taking yours quickly.  The two of you go back and forth like this for several turns.  You realize quickly that he is very much your equal, he is smart and clever, but he plays rigidly and by the book.  By the book players are usually easy for you to handle.  

Jeonghan was different, it’s almost as if he knew your moves before you made them, and admittedly he kind of did.  Not well enough, you were nervous in the middle of the match but now you were sure that you could lure him into a checkmate within three moves. 

Letting him capture your rook was a small sacrifice.  Luring him into a false sense of security letting him take this piece and your queen earlier in the game, so that your second rook could move to take his queen and leaving his king open.  Attempting to move his king out of the line of fire from your rook only placed it in harm's way at the hands of your bishop.  

“Checkmate” you declared.  Jeonghan sat quietly, you saw the math he was doing in his mind by the way his eyes were flitting around the board, calculating his mistakes.  You gathered your things and swiped them into your arms and turned to leave.  

Fingers encircled your wrist and pulled you to face him.  Judging by the look on his face he did not think before he acted for once, “If it means so much to you, I won’t tell anyone I beat you,” you offered, rolling your eyes. 

“You’re infuriatingly irritating” was the last thing he said before pulling you closer and pressing his soft lips to yours. You stood perfectly still, shocked at the sudden development, Jeonghan didn’t push until you parted your lips.  With this he deepened the kiss, his mouth tasted of tobacco, the expensive kind.  His skin was warm against yours, and you weren’t sure why you didn’t entirely hate this exchange.  

Tentatively, you placed your hands on his hips, your notebook falling to the floor forgotten.  Jeonghan swiped his tongue into your mouth and you let him.  He felt your fingers grip for dear life and tried to ignore the fact that the gesture caused his head to swim.  He had the faintest idea of why he kissed you and even less of an idea on why you let him but he would not complain.  He tangled his hands in your hair.    

He pulled your lip between his teeth and it snapped something in you, you pressed your thighs together and sighed.  When Jeonghan moved to plant kisses just below your ear you realized what was happening and pushed back against his chest. 

“What the hell are you doing?” 

“You seemed to enjoy it.” he sighed pushing a hand through his hair.  

“I don’t know what this is,” you picked up your notebook, “but find someone else to help you out next time you get hard over a girl beating you”           

You shifted uncomfortably in the doorway of the fraternity house as Cami was informing the poor boy working the door who she was and who the two of you were intending to meet inside.  Finally, after what felt like an eternity out on the porch, he stepped aside and the two of you shuffled past him. The inside of the house was nothing special, it smelled of smoke and sweat.  There were groups of people scattered about talking and drinking.  

Cami put a hand on your arm and began to pull you further into the house, “Come on!” she shouted over the noise, “I’m meeting him in the kitchen!” and she began weaving her way through the house, as if she had done this a thousand times before.  

The kitchen was open and frankly dirty.  There was a couple making out against the counter closest to where your roommate dragged you.  

“Y/N, this is Mingyu, the guy I told you about,” she smiled up at him, “and this is Y/N, my roommate”  

“Nice to meet you,” Mingyu smiled at you momentarily before turning his attention back to the girl he actually invited to this party.  You were surprised, you figured it would have taken longer than five minutes for you to start wondering why you came here in the first place. You were starting to feel boxed in, the couple on the counter was getting dangerously close to exposing themselves to you, and Mingyu was whispering close to your roommate's ear.  You could only imagine the filthy things he was surely saying to her, judging by the scarlet blush rising up her neck and the giddy smile playing at her lips.  

“Take this,” a familiar voice cut through the panic, a small glass being pressed into your hand.  Looking up, Jeonghan had a matching glass up to his lips, looking down at you expectantly.  You followed suit and the two of you tipped the glasses back together.  The liquid burned your throat and you sputtered a cough as you felt the heat settle in your belly.  “Woah,” he stifled a laugh, “Never had a drink before, noted,” he filled up his shot glass with water from the sink and traded it for your empty glass.  He guided it to your lips and disappeared down the hall, just as quickly as he approached.

The water dulled the burn in your throat.  During your exchange with Jeonghan your roommate and Mingyu disappeared somewhere, sighing you left the kitchen to find them or somewhere quiet to sit down, whichever came first.  

As it turned out, at a party there are few places unoccupied by people.  You took to walking laps around the bottom floor of the house looking out for anyone leaving or a room you missed.  On lap one thousand (give or take) you heard your roommate’s laugh cut through the dull thrum of the music from the turntable in the living room.  You looked toward where you heard her, your shoulders slumped seeing Mingyu lead her up the stairs, cursing under your breath you stomped through the kitchen and into the first door you came across. 

 You plop to the ground and cross your arms over your chest, if anyone were to be looking at you right now you’re sure you would look like a petulant child.  You’re not even sure why you’re angry, you knew she would end up hooking up with this guy tonight. Walking home could be an option, however it’s getting cold…and do you even remember how to get back? Don’t parties like this typically have sober drivers? But I’m not drunk…I only had whatever Jeonghan gave me, you thought, Jeonghan! You could find him, but how embarrassing would it be to crawl to him for help right now? He would use it against you forever and you are as good as kicked out of the chess club after this! What would have been the point of any of this if you can’t play chess? This stupid situation with Jeonghan would have been for naught.  

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening, you scramble to situate yourself in this damned skirt to have any semblance of appropriateness for whoever is coming through that door.  

“What are you doing in the laundry room?” you could hear the smirk in his tone before you even looked up.  Jeonghan slipped into the small room, which when looking around you realized it was in fact the laundry room.  He closed the door behind him with the hand not occupied with a bottle of liquor and a cigarette perched between his pointer and middle fingers.  Scooting back you pressed your back against the washing machine and stretched your legs straight in front of you.  Jeonghan grunted while sitting down on the floor next to you, his back up against the dryer.  He set down the bottle and two of those little glasses from earlier on the floor in front of him.  

“There was nowhere else to sit…” You offered quietly. “My stupid roommate went upstairs with some guy and she is the only reason I’m even at this fucking party! I wanted to stay home tonight, but she dragged me out here and–and are you trying to get me drunk?” you interrupted yourself, eyes flicking between the contents on the floor and Jeonghan.  He cracked a smile, not a smirk, a smile, at your question.  

“No, Dove,” he chuckled sticking the cigarette between his lips, “I’m trying to get you to loosen up for once,”  he brought his hand above your thigh, hesitating in the air for only a moment before placing it down slightly above your knee, kneading the flesh there.  Jeonghan had kissed you last week, but this felt…intimate, not angry. Before you had the chance to yell at him he brought his hand back to his lap, “You’re tense.” 

“Yeah, not a great night,” you pointed out, “And it seems like it is getting weird now,” he rolled his eyes at your addition and began pouring the liquid into the two glasses.  

“Take another shot with me, will you?” he attempted to hand you the glass, “before I decide you’ve annoyed me too much for one night” 

“No” 

“Y/N please, don’t be so insufferable for once,” he moved his glass to his lips and removed the cigarette, which admittedly was distracting enough for you to almost give in.  You held strong.  Jeonghan clicked his tongue disapprovingly and threw back the contents of the glass.  He brought his free hand and scrubbed his face, “Fine, let’s play a game.” he poured himself another shot. 

“What kind of game?”

“Really that’s all it took?” he looked at you, his eyes starting to shine with the alcohol, “Beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose.” he taps the glass with his fingers, a habit that manifests when he’s thinking, you’ve noticed throughout his chess matches, 

“You’re making a game up,” you point out nonchalantly, 

“What?” the drumming stops for a moment, “No, I’m remembering the rules”

“No you’re not, tell me about your made up game, Yoon”

“It’s a real game…anyway, rules are simple, you ask me a question, I answer, then you answer.  If you don’t want to answer, you take a shot, if we both answer, we both take a shot”

“Those rules don’t make sense” “Yes they do, who was the first LP you ever got?” you were taken aback by the tameness of his question, but you figured he was just getting started.  

“The Blues and the Abstract Truth by Oliver Nelson” 

“Jazz?” he scoffed, “Have you ever thought about not being boring?” 

“Have you ever thought about being a decent person?”

“Don’t get unglued,” he rolled his eyes, “mine was Nice’n’Easy by Frank Sinatra” With that he tipped his glass back and emptied it, you followed suit and tried not to cough this time. He gestured to you seemingly inviting you to ask a question of your own.  You thought for a moment, 

“Why do you play chess?” you asked. 

“My dad figured it would be a good skill to have” he shrugged, “But I think it has something to do with the fact that the world chess champion was, and still is, a Soviet. I don’t really care about that though, I just like to play, I’m good at it.”

“You only play chess because you’re good at it?” you said flatly

“Ah ah” he tsked, “You already asked your question, so either answer or drink up”

“Fine,” you sighed with a pointed look in his direction, “My grandpa taught me, I always watched him and his buddy play when he babysat me.  I learned by watching and then eventually playing, and beating, both of them.” 

“Learning chess just by watching,” he mumbled and shook his head. “Gimme,” his lithe fingers took the glass from your hand, set it on the floor next to his and poured another round.  You both drank the shot with no complaint.  

The game continued like this for a while, Jeonghan never asking anything that stumped you, and in return he answered every question of yours. You weren’t sure what being drunk actually felt like but if someone told you this was it you would believe them.  Your muscles relaxed more than you can remember in recent months, your vision was slightly blurry, and you felt a pleasant buzz in your brain.  Jeonghan was slumped against the dryer and his head leaned on your shoulder.  

“When’s your birthday?” Jeonghan asked, playing with your fingers lightly.   

“January 2” 

“Coming up,” he noted, “Mine was October 4”

“How old are you now?” 

“22” he sighed, “graduating in May” You knew Jeonghan was older than you, but you hadn’t thought about the fact that he would be actually graduating, leaving.  Something about that made you sick to your stomach in a way, but you weren’t sure why, don’t you hate him?

“I’ll be 19 next month” you mumbled. He shifted his body to sit up and look at you.  His eyes were glassy and heavy, physical evidence of the alcohol thrumming in his system.  

“Are you drunk?” he asked 

“I have no earthly idea, Han” he smiled at the nickname. He reached over to cup your cheek in his hand, unconsciously you melted into him. 

“I might be,” he mumbled, and even in your intoxicated state you couldn’t miss the way his eyes flicked from yours to your lips, only for a moment.  After what felt like ages he connected his lips to yours.  The kiss was sweet, his lips were warm and he didn’t rush it.  He held you as his tongue swiped against your bottom lip, requesting entrance.  Once that entrance was granted it was as if the floodgates opened for him.  Both of his hands were in your hair and he was licking into your mouth.  Jeonghan tasted of the alcohol the two of you had been drinking the entire night, different from the taste on his lips last time.  Jeonghan curiously tugged at the hair around his fingers.  

Butterflies, or something like that but infinitely more intense, erupted in your stomach.  The suddenness of it all allowed a whine to escape your lips. With that Jeonghan pulled back from you but stayed close enough for your noses to still be touching. 

“I think you should start coming to meetings early,” he panted. The only response you could muster was a nod, and an attempt to bring his lips back to yours.  He pulled back against your request, and much to your dismay the wicked smirk was back on his face, “Y/N, are you a virgin?”  You were taken aback by the question, you backed away from him and grabbed the bottle on the floor.  You forwent the shot glass and just took a long pull from the lip.  He watched you down the burning liquid before nodding, “So that’s a yes,” he settled back against the dryer and watched you flounder.  

“You don’t know that!” you stood up, feeling wobbly on your feet, “Maybe I’m just being a lady” 

“Woah,” he stood up and wrapped his arm around your waist in an attempt to steady you, “but it doesn’t really matter, I trapped you, even a nonanswer would have told me what I wanted to know, I won and you know it.”  You attempted to hit his chest but the way he was holding you proved it impossible. He maneuvered you to sit back down, “Sit right here, I’m gonna go find your roommate and get you home.”    

The walk back to your dorm was quicker than you thought it was, but that could be on account of the alcohol warming your skin.  Jeonghan informed you that your roommate had decided to stay the night with Mingyu back at the house so the responsibility of getting your drunk self home fell on him.  Serves him right, he’s the one who got you to this state in the first place. Your arm linked with his and his arm around your waist he walked the short trek very carefully, because he truly was not sober himself.

He fished your room key out of your pocket and let the two of you into your room.  He blinked to adjust to the lower light, the room was only illuminated by the lamp on your desk that you must have forgotten to turn out before leaving earlier in the night.  Moving further into the room he helped you sit down on the bed.  On the desk there was a chess board with a half finished game set up.  He smiled to himself moving closer to see that the pieces of paper strewn about were the notes you always take during matches with him.  You’re replaying matches between the two of you he realized.  

“Y/N” he called, tearing his eyes away from the pretty way your handwriting captures his name, “You gotta change.”

“Tired,” you grumbled from the bed. He moved towards you and attempted to pull you up.  

“Come on, you can’t sleep in this” he begged, “Fine! Where do you keep your pajamas?”

“Top drawer”

He moved the short distance to your dresser and opened the top drawer.  He flushed seeing your undergarments being housed in the same space as your pajamas but he tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach.  He pulled out the first nightgown he found and moved back to you.  

“Okay, undress” he was met with protest noises.  He sighed and moved to the hem on your shirt, “I’m going to help you and then leave, okay?” he waited for your approval and then began lifting your shirt up over your head. He felt perverted in a way as he watched each inch of your skin come into view and then the clothed swell of your breasts.  The situation was in no way sexual and he had no plans to take advantage, but he had never seen you in a vulnerable state before.  You were softer than you often let on, something he almost didn’t believe.  

He removed the shirt completely and moved to unclasp your bra.  He hesitated only slightly before taking the plunge.  He removed the piece of fabric and quickly, and unceremoniously shoved the nightgown over your head.  Finally, you were dressed for bed and he helped you under the covers.  

Soon he heard your soft snores and took this as his signal to leave.  Turning out the lamp he pressed his lips to your forehead, hoping it didn’t hurt too terribly in the morning.  

“Goodnight, Y/N”      

The gentle sting of teeth against your neck paired with the vice grip on your thigh under your skirt almost sent you into a frenzy.    

“Jeonghan” you shied away from his mouth, he grunted and chased you in response, “Jeonghan!” you hissed and pulled his hair until his lips separated from your neck.

“What?” he whispered, his eyes heavy and clouded with lust. 

“The boys will be here in,” you twisted to check your watch, “Twenty minutes and I would rather not have them distracted by fresh hickies on my neck for the entire meeting.”

“And why not?” he attempted to connect to the spot below your ear again, “They might respect you more if they know you’re getting some” 

“They respect me just fine!” you shove against his shoulder, but there weren’t many places for him to go in the small closet.  His hand stayed gripped on your thigh.

“Okay, okay” he conceded, taking back his place crowding you against the wall behind you.  “You’re tense again” a squeeze to your thigh, “let me help” his hand slowly traveled higher, leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

All you could do was nod.  

A flash of a smirk and he is wedging his thigh between your knees, “Keep ‘em spread” he commanded.  His hand continued up and up until - oh - his thumb pressed that delicious bundle of nerves, separated only by the thin cotton of your underwear.  He watches your face as you bite your lip, if he was a better man he wouldn’t be doing this in the supply closet, but the promise of seeing you unspool was too delicious.  He’ll make it up to you someday, he promises himself.         

He started with slow torturous circles, refusing to move the barrier. The touches are too feather light, you resist the urge to rut up against him in an attempt to increase the friction.  This didn’t stop the pathetic whine from escaping your lips.  “What was that?” Jeonghan teased, increasing the pressure on your clit.       

“Please…” you screwed your eyes shut. 

“Is this what you want?” he slid your underwear to the side and gathered your arousal on his fingers.  Nodding you felt him slip in a finger experimentally. You bucked your hips to meet him, “Eager” he commented nonchalantly.  The tightness in his pants reminded him that time was of the essence and he slipped in another finger.  

You bit your lip to keep quiet, no matter how much Jeonghan encouraged you to let him hear you.  His long fingers reached a spot inside you that you didn’t know existed with ease.  You rocked on his fingers, feeling a tightness in your stomach begin to gather.  

Jeonghan pulled aside the neck of your sweater to access a new swath of skin untouched by him until now.  He sucked a deep bruise just below your collarbone as you felt the snap in your stomach.  

The euphoria washed over you in waves and Jeonghan continued his ruminations until you came down from your high.  Once you were more lucid, you noticed the gaping neck of your sweater.  Your hand flew to where the top two buttons once were and gasped.  

“You ripped the buttons off my sweater, you ass”

“Right like I meant to!” he began to scan the cluttered floor for the buttons.  

“Well I don’t have the time to go back to change” you gritted your teeth, “This was my favorite sweater” you stormed out of the closet, leaving Jeonghan’s apology to die on his lips.  What you didn’t expect was Minghao sitting at the table closest to you, reading.  You clutched your sweater, careful to cover your new mark.  He tore his eyes away from his book and just looked at you, it felt like he was looking right through you.  

You open your mouth to explain yourself but the sound of Mark bursting through the door with Yunho stole the moment away from you.�� Minghao gave a curt nod of understanding and snapped his book closed.  Jeonghan entered the room, clearly trying not to look flushed. You shot him a pointed look and proceeded to sit in front of an empty chess board. 

“Pair up,” he mumbled, “scrimmages today” and throws himself into the chair across from you.  “Take that look off your face, Dove” you blinked at him, not realizing there was even a look, you were just surprised he was willingly choosing you, in front of everyone.  However, if he was going to act like this, you could make the meeting Hell too. 

His timer clicked, he made his first move.  Jeonghan was going to lose this match, you stretched your legs, leaving your foot next to his.  You felt his eyes boring into your skull as you were making your opening.  Your timer clicked.  Jeonghan laced his fingers under his chin, it would look like he was thinking, but you knew better, he was trying to figure you out this time.  He reached to move his knight and you trailed your foot up his leg, disrupting his trousers. Placing his knight down with a definitive thunk he looked up at you with widened eyes.  

“Your timer, Jeonghan” you smirked. Click. Jeonghan watched your subsequent move, trying desperately to ignore the tightness in the crotch of his pants.  You played it safe for a majority of the game, letting Jeonghan believe that you were the one distracted by your nonsense.  You let him have some meaningless captures.  

His fingers weren’t drumming on the desk, he felt confident.  You captured his bishop.  You could easily have a checkmate within four or five moves.  You brought his bishop to your lips and hit your timer.  You looked at him from under your lashes and waited. 

Jeonghan watched the white piece rest against your pretty lips, what was wrong with him? You were doing next to nothing but the hardness in his pants was almost painful at this point.  His hesitancy was evident, 

“I know” you whispered against the bishop, “It’s just so hard” Jeonghan had to bite his lip to keep from whimpering.  He made a quick careless move and hit the timer. Smiling, you set the bishop aside and moved your queen into position, “Checkmate.” 

“What is wrong with you?”

The only sound in your room was the soft drag of the white bishop you moved across your chess board.  Cami was out, probably with Mingyu, as she is most nights nowadays.  The game you were playing against yourself was almost finished and you were planning to retire to bed or to do some reading afterwards.  Even you had your limit on the amount of chess you could play in a day.  

You picked up the black knight thinking to capture a white pawn when there was a knock at your door. Untangling yourself from the position that was comfortable until you thought about it you stretched your legs and padded to the door.  You don’t tend to get visitors unless Cami is home so you’re not sure who this could be.     

Swinging the door open you see the familiar shape of Jeonghan standing in the hallway, illuminated by the fluorescent lighting.  He was dressed more casually than you’d ever seen him, clad in an oversized t-shirt and pair of shorts with the faded logo of what you guessed was his high school hanging off his hips. You fold your arms over your chest, suddenly very aware of your lack of bra. 

“Are you stalking me now, Yoon?”  he blinked at you a couple times before pushing past you into your room and uttering, 

“Do you really not remember?” he sits at your desk in front of the almost finished chess game, “Can I sit here?” 

“You already are,” you raised an eyebrow as you took a seat across from him on your bed.  Seeing Jeonghan comfortable and relaxed in the low light of your room was strange, but not entirely off putting.  Almost as if he belonged here in a way.  “Remember what?”

“I brought you home after Seungcheol’s party when Cami ditched you” he studied the remaining pieces on the board. Jeonghan doesn’t know when he started remembering things, like the name of your roommate, about you.  He didn’t mind having you in his head, but he wasn’t aware just how often you were on his mind until this moment, seeing you bathed in the lamp light of your room.       

“Wait,” your cheeks grew red and you felt the heat in them rise.  

“Yes, I changed your clothes, no I didn’t look, but at this point does it matter?” His brown eyes gazed up at you before they trailed down your body, he realized that this is the first time he has seen you in your casual attire since that night. 

“Maybe not…” You mumble, “But it certainly did at the time.”  He scoffed and rolled his eyes and settled them back on the chess board in front of him.  You watched as he moved the rook into position, 

“Checkmate” he smirked smugly, 

“I played that game myself, don’t think you’ve beaten me because you finished it.” He clicked his tongue disapprovingly at your comment and stood up from the chair and moved toward you. He stood in front of you and tapped your knee, you spread your legs so he could stand between them, you mentally cursed yourself for the automatic response.  Moving in between your knees he ran his hands through your hair, he looked down at you, his face softer than you’d seen it in a while.  His features were beautiful when he was concentrated and vengeful during a match but the soft moments between were quickly becoming your favorites. 

“Hi,” he whispered, he could almost laugh, he felt so boyish.  “Are you feeling okay?” 

“Han,” you laughed, “you don’t need an excuse to kiss me, if that’s what you’re looking for” 

“Okay Ms. Smarty Pants,” he ducked his head to press his lips to yours.  What felt like lightning crackled between your lips and into your stomach, he hadn’t touched you let alone kissed you since that day that you teased him at the meeting in front of everyone.  Partly because you stopped showing up early, and partly because he was clearly mad at you for the spectacle you caused.  He had never anticipated Wonwoo of all people to ask him what that was all about. 

A hand trailed from your hair down to your chest.  You whined as Jeonghan took a handful of your breast and kneaded it underneath his fingers.  He deepened the kiss at the sounds you were making. His teeth grazed your lip as he pinched your nipple between his fingers.  His other hand was gripping your bare thigh.  

He broke the kiss and grabbed the loose fabric of your nightgown and pulled it up around your hips.  Hooking his thumbs under the waistband of your panties he mutters, 

“Can we try something?” All you could do was nod in response.  He swiftly shimmied the fabric down and onto the floor. “Let me know if it’s too much for you, okay?” 

Jeonghan sank to his knees in front of you, his mouth level with your bare cunt.  He takes his time sucking deep bruises into your thighs, he was only going to do it once but the sweet noises you made in response were too beautiful to ignore.  You felt the sting of teeth on the last bruise, and then the soothing sensation of his tongue.  In an attempt to get his long hair out of the way he raked his hand through it and leveled himself with your heat.  

He licked the first fat stripe up your cunt, the warmth of his mouth on you was a new and spectacular feeling.  He felt all encompassing, you were surrounded by him, and you couldn’t imagine anything better in this moment. He flattened his tongue against you and dragged it through your folds slowly.  Your eyes screwed shut at the overwhelming sensation. 

His lips wrapped around your swollen clit and began to suck.  Jeonghan felt absolutely high on the sounds he was eliciting from you.  Slowly, he moved from your clit to your entrance and experimentally dipped inside.  You filled the room with quiet moans as he began to pump his tongue in and out of you. The coil in your stomach began to tighten, you bucked your hips up searching for stimulation on your clit.  Jeonghan pulled away from you and you shivered at the lack of warmth.  He blew lightly into your cunt, a whine getting pulled from your throat.  

“Just wait, Dove, I’ll take care of you.” He stood and helped you out of the nightgown the rest of the way.  You sat up slightly and reached for his shirt.  He looked beautiful with the flush of want on his cheeks and the sheen of you on his chin.  He smiled down at you and allowed you to peel off his shirt, “Lay down all the way” he whispered as he pulled off the rest of his clothes.  You readjusted on the bed.  He crawled on top of you, “Are you okay with this?” You nodded, you let your eyes wander down his body and caught a glimpse of his stiff cock, leaking and angry.  The tension in your thighs returned, nervous for this next step.  

“Hey,” he whispered, “look at me”, your eyes finding his, “Relax for me, Dove. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to”  

“I want to,” you whispered.  He smiled softly at you and pressed his lips to yours.  He reached down and stroked his cock a few times before lining up at your entrance.  You took a deep breath.  

“I’m serious this time, you need to relax,” his eyes were dark with lust but ultimately serious.  He reached to knead the muscle of your plush thigh. You nodded to show him you understood and tried to release some tension you were holding.  

You felt the head of his cock push past your entrance.  The feeling was entirely different to what you were used to with his fingers.  He moved slowly, scared to overwhelm you.  He stayed still for several agonizing minutes, allowing you to adjust to the new sensation.  

“You can move now,” you breathed out quietly.  He nodded and slowly began to rock his hips.  It was almost as if you could feel every single vein dragging against your walls.  The feeling was nothing short of intoxicating, you felt so full.  

“Oh Dove,” his voice was deeper than you have ever heard it, “you feel so perfect, like you were made for me.” His praises went straight to your core and you couldn’t help but moan.  “If you keep,” he grunted, “sounding perfect like that I won’t last.” 

He doesn’t.  Neither do you.  He didn’t expect you to, you don’t last long on his fingers, his cock was a different story entirely.  What he didn’t expect was how fast he was spent.  He thinks he meant it when he said you were perfect, he fit inside of you just right.  Thinking about how perfect you were had him releasing hot white spurts of himself inside of you.  

He leaned forward to move the sweaty pieces of hair from your forehead and pressed a kiss to your temple.  

“You okay, Dove?” 

“I’m fab,” you breathed.  Jeonghan laughed and slowly pulled out of you.  He took a moment to look at your spent cunt, leaking with him.  

“Uh, let me get you cleaned up,” he stumbled out of the bed and moved toward your collection of bath towels.  He returned with one and helped clean you up.  He rummaged through your drawer, retrieved a clean set of underwear and sent you to the bathroom. He got himself dressed and sat on the bed.  He ran his hands through his hair.  

When you came back you laid back down together.  You draped your legs over his.  The two of you stayed this way for what felt like hours.  You talked about everything, he asked you about your classes, how you’re adjusting to being away from home, and your impressions of the guys in the chess club.  

Talking to Jeonghan was easy, much easier than your first impression had led you to believe.  Eventually, you fell asleep mid sentence.  Cute, Jeonghan thought.  He was starting to realize he found most of the things you did cute.  

He slipped out of your bed and covered you with the blanket.  Before he left he slipped your ruined sweater from where it was draped haphazardly over the foot of your bed.  With that, he was out of the room and bounding down the hall.    

              ��

   

 “Y/N! Wait up!” Turning around you see Minghao jogging to catch up with you.  You smile at him as he joins you, “Where you headed?” 

“The teaching building,” you jerked your head in the direction of the building.  

“Let me walk with you, I’m going to the art building, but I need to ask you about something.” he gestured for you to keep walking.  You nodded and began the walk, “So what on Earth are you doing?” 

“What?” you raised an eyebrow, “I’m going to class?” 

“No” he shook his head, “With Jeonghan” you had to force yourself to keep walking and not stop right there in the middle of the sidewalk and gawk at him, “Oh come on, Y/N I’m not stupid” 

“I never said you were,” you shifted your gaze to the ground, “But I have no idea what you’re talking  about”

“Yes you do” A telling silence fell between the two of you for a few minutes before you reached the front of the art building.  Minghao stopped walking and put a hand on your shoulder, “Listen it’s not my business, but whatever game you’re playing better have a good reason.” he sighed, “I don’t know if you actually like him or what this bullshit is, but be careful,”

“Careful?” 

“You’re a threat to him, Y/N” you must look as confused as you feel because he continues, “I’m good at chess, Wonwoo’s good at chess, Jeonghan is great at chess, but Y/N, you’re phenomenal at chess.” 

“So?” you protest, “It’s just a club, this doesn’t mean anything does it?” 

“The competition season is coming up,” he offered, “You’ll be asked to be on the team by the faculty supervisor, so will Jeonghan, and hopefully me and Wonwoo, but there’s the individual tournament to worry about.”     

“Okay?” you huff, “And?” you try to see the point Minghao is making.       

“Just…” he sighs, “I’m worried he’s using you.  He’s never lost the collegiate division, Y/N” you nodded, taking in what he was suggesting, “You’ve painted yourself as a threat to him winning that title for his last year. That’s why it matters, that’s what he cares about.”

“Isn’t he your friend?”

“Well, yes,” Minghao blinked at you, “Doesn’t that put me in the exact position to know what he might be capable of?” 

“If I’m selected, I’ll try my best, win or lose” You assured him.  

“I know you will, just be careful, don’t get distracted” He turns toward the entrance of the art building, “And stop using the supply closet, you have more dignity than that” you feel your face heat up and you turn on your heel toward the teaching building.    

If anyone could see the great asshole, Jeonghan Yoon right now Mingyu could die happy.  He bounded down the stairs and took in the sight of the man himself with a sewing needle snug between his teeth, instead of the usual cigarette.  

“Oh you couldn’t be more keen on her, huh?” Mingyu plopped down on the couch next to the sweater Jeonghan had carefully spread over the cushion between himself and the younger man. 

“Shut your fucking trap, Kim,” Jeonghan mumbled around the needle.    

“She has you sewing,”  Mingyu stifled a laugh.  

“As if you have room to talk,” Jeonghan ripped the needle from his mouth, “Cami has you just about as tied up,”  Mingyu blinked at him, “Oh come on! You don’t need tutoring, let alone from Wonwoo, you’re not in any of the same classes.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,”  Mingyu attempted to insist but avoiding Jeonghan’s eyes gave him away.  

“Obviously you do, Y/N was mad about not being able to play, so you and Cami decided to take matters of my club into your own hands,” he began to thread the needle.   

“You could’ve let her play,” Mingyu shrugged watching Jeonghan struggle to find the simplest way to put the thread through the hole.  

“She could’ve earned her spot like everyone else” he muttered, “Besides there’s nothing between her and I so there’s no need to compare”

“You made the comparison…” Mingyu pointed out, confused.  

“No I didn’t,” the thread made it through the hole in the needle.  Mingyu opened and closed his mouth, not sure what his friend was getting at.  Jeonghan claiming that there was nothing going on between you and him was almost laughable, but Mingyu knew better than to voice this, as he valued his life.  So instead he settled to watch Jeonghan skillfully sew the pearlescent buttons back on to your sweater.  

Mingyu also knew better than to ask what happened in the first place.  He knew that Jeonghan had his own way about things, and this was more than likely an apology of some kind.  If Mingyu Kim was a far stupider man he would point out the fact that Jeonghan never denied that this was your sweater.    

You could hear the other members of the chess club before you even saw the door to the meeting room, there was an excited buzz spilling out into the hallway. As you closed in on the room you saw a paper hanging up on the closed door.  

“1963 Collegiate Chess Championship: University of Michigan 

Yoon, Jeonghan

Xu, Minghao 

Jeon, Wonwoo

Y/L/N, Y/F/N

Congratulations and good luck!”

That’s your name, you’re on the team.  You thought Minghao was potentially exaggerating when he was predicting the team but he was right on the money.  Something akin to anxiety bubbled in your stomach, what if you lose? What if you win?

Walking into the room Minghao smiled at you, Wonwoo gave you a thumbs up, and Jeonghan was simply staring at you  He couldn’t deny that he was scared of your placement on the team, when it came for the individual matches you potentially have him beat, he needed to play his best set of games in his career.  

You took your usual seat at the table you share with Wonwoo and Minghao.  Jeonghan’s eyes bored into your skull as you set up your board.  Was Minghao right? Did he do all of this as a distraction? Were you really that big of a threat to him? You knew the answer, but that didn’t stop the seeds of doubt from sewing in your mind.

“Congrats teammate!” You heard the smile in Wonwoo’s voice before you saw it.  

“Congratulations, Y/N.” Minghao smiled at you as he took his seat next to Wonwoo, “A force to be reckoned with, as always.”  

“Thank you both,” you smiled, “congrats to you as well.” You stole a glance in Jeonghan’s direction, he was still staring.  He was quick, he saw your eyes, and knowing he got what he wanted he slowly licked his lips and turned back to the board he was setting up with Mark.  

Your blood boiled in your veins, Minghao had to have been right, he’s so cocky even with no wins against you under his belt.  He must have been banking on you losing your composure, now and at the competition, so you determined right then that you would not allow it.  You began to slam the white pawns into their places, earning you sideways glances from your tablemates.  

Wonwoo pulled the black pieces out and tried to match your pace, knowing that your patience has run out, for Jeonghan Yoon related reasons he’s sure. The meeting is spent by you beating the boys in a variety of ways and shooting angry glances at the back of Jeonghan’s head.  Jeonghan was stealing his own looks in your own direction under the guise of “keeping an eye on the games”.  A few times he catches you looking at him, he attempts to soften your face to no avail.

After watching Wonwoo deliver a final checkmate to Minghao, you shot out of your seat and attempted to flee the room as quickly as possible.  Unfortunately, Jeonghan had other plans.  He caught your arm and pulled you to face him.

“Congratulations,” he said softly after he made sure everyone was out of the room.  

“Likewise,” you bit, “is that all?” Jeonghan blinked at you, clearly confused.  

“What’s wrong?” He asked earnestly, “Aren’t you excited?” You couldn’t tell if he was truly confused or if he was acting again.  

“I am,” you nodded, “what do you need? Or can I go home?”  

“Right,” his lips pressed into a tight line, clearly no longer in the mood for whatever you decided you were mad about.  He pulled his messenger bag to his front and pulled out a bunch of fabric.  “I fixed this for you,” he held it out in front of him.  You took it gingerly and unfolded it so you could look at what it actually was.  The sweater he ruined a few weeks ago.  A swooping feeling in your stomach took hold, something between tenderness and anger.  You chose anger.  

“Oh so you’re stealing from me now?” You snapped.  

“What?” He hissed, “I fixed it for you!” He pointed at the top two buttons he carefully sewed back on.  He looked like a petulant child if you weren’t seething you could laugh.  

“You still stole from me!” 

“Y/N you’re missing the point on purpose!” He whined at you, “I wanted to fix my mistake!” 

“By making another mistake.” You turned and walked out the door and all Jeonghan could do was stare after you.  For once he was at a loss for words.        

You’re in over your head, you have to be.  You have never felt so unprepared for a set of matches in your life.  The day was going to be full, only breaking for lunch and then your schedule thinning out God willing that you get to participate until the finals.  

You smoothed your hands over the new outfit you scrounged up money to buy for the occassion. The blouse is pretty, but the main focus is the new trousers.  You have never worn pants to a big event before, and you’re nervous for the reactions of the men downstairs.  Determined to exude confidence even when you were scared out of your mind you took deep breaths and practiced looking tough in the mirror.  You could not, however, forget how out of place you felt at this moment.  

You check your watch and mutter a curse under your breath.  Snatching your notebook off the hotel bed you tossed and turned in the entire night you bounded out the door. Once downstairs you snaked through throngs of people, picking up bits and pieces of conversations about chess strategy.  

You spotted Wonwoo’s head above various members of the crowd and made your way to him and where you assumed Minghao, Jeonghan, and your faculty advisor were as well.  Your fingers wrapped around Minghao’s arm and he turned to you quickly. 

His eyes lit up seeing it was you, “Y/N, hi” he smiled down at you.  

“Hi Hao,” you wiggled through the last of the crowd and up next to him, “did I miss anything?” you look around at the people, trying to spot Jeonghan.

“No, we’re just waiting for table assignments,” he pointed toward the window, “he’s over there.”  You followed his gesture and saw Jeonghan talking with the faculty advisor.  He looked almost ethereal silhouetted against the window, cigarette delicately perched in between his fingers.  You watched them talk for several minutes before you saw an official post a list on the wall opposite you.  Jeonghan noticed as well, extinguished his cigarette, and excused himself to look at his table assignment.  

The competitors funnelled into a line to check where they will be starting the day.  You shuffled in behind Minghao, Jeonghan tucked in behind you.  He was trying his best to ignore the new outfit and how good you happened to look in it as the line slowly moved.  Minghao quickly found his name and moved out of the way for you to scan the document.  You felt Jeonghan pressing against you slightly, clearly impatient and looking over your head.  His hand hovered awkwardly over your hip, he ached to touch you even just casually.  

Locating your name and your table you exited the line, leaving Jeonghan’s hand hanging in the air before he dropped it.  He followed after you silently.  Several other competitors were whispering about your outfit, he could hear them plainly even if you couldn’t.  

The thing about Jeonghan Yoon was that his reputation proceeded him.  Every person in this building knew who he was and what he came here to do today.  This type of reputation comes with a healthy respect and a bit of fear. So the dagger-like glances he shot these stupid men were not to be questioned.  To their knowledge it was because you were his teammate, none of them were aware of the affection he held for you.  

You broke away from your team in order to find the first table, your opponent already sitting on white’s side.  Holding your hand out for him to shake you could tell he was cocky, he rose to take your hand.  His handshake was firm, an obvious attempt to scare you.  Only you weren’t scared anymore, you felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.  The environment was different but the game was the same, and you were one of the best.  

The officials signaled for the beginning of the round and you watched as your opponent contemplated his first move.  He selected a safe opener; for the first round and knowing nothing about your opponent this was a respectable choice.  You tend to play it safe as well, opting for your classic attempt at a queen’s gambit.  The match went uneventful for the first several moves, the only sound in the room was several timers clicking at different times.  Some players were faster than others, and you were attempting to take your time and not get cocky.  

The same could not be said about Jeonghan across the room.  He was the epitome of confidence, as he has been every year since he won the first time.  Freshly 19 and on top of the world.  He always felt like the first win was some unbelievable stroke of luck and then he just continued to win.  He realized quickly that he enjoyed winning, almost more than he liked playing the game itself.  Maybe that makes him cocky, but he didn’t care.  He was making quick work of his first opponent, he was confident and playing defensively.  He clicked his timer and watched the man on the other side of the table panic under his gaze. 

Jeonghan watched as the man moved his rook across the board.  He leaned forward, seeing now that the opponent’s king was unprotected.  Jeonghan moved his knight.  

“Checkmate.” 

Your timer clicked as you gently pressed the button.  The man across from you looked perplexed as the board was dominated by your pieces.  He figured that this would be an easy win for him, figuring that your university stacked the team so that Jeonghan would have an easier time winning.  He was wrong, and everyone else in the room would soon find out if he didn’t find a way to save his own ass and soon.  He moved his bishop across to prevent you from queening your pawn on your next turn.  His timer clicked.  No matter, that bishop was the last piece protecting his king from your rook.  

“Checkmate.” 

Your name was on everyone’s lips as you moved to your next table.  It was almost annoying, all you did was win one game against someone who needed a lot of practice in your opinion.  They could start whispering when you were at least in the semifinals.  If that first game was any indication on how the rest of the day would go it would be easy to get there.  You knew Jeonghan was faring well, because once people were done talking about you they were talking about him.  

You took your place on the white side of this board as you were at the table far before your next opponent.  Jeonghan watched you from his side of the room, smiling to himself that you won your first match.  He slipped a cigarette between his lips and brought his lighter to the end.  He dragged on his cigarette as he watched his next opponent take his seat.  

Jeonghan lost track of you at some point over the next several hours, as the matches became a bit more difficult he felt the need to focus.  While he wanted more than anything to know how the rest of the team was faring, he had to win.  This was his last chance, what no one knew was that he was declining the faculty advisor’s offer to continue his career after graduation.  He was getting his degree for a reason, and for him the reason was to move on from this part of his life.  So finishing with four consecutive collegiate championships under his belt would be great. Only problem here was, unfortunately, you.  

You beat Minghao again right before lunch.  Things were going incredibly well, much to your surprise.  Minghao shook your hand, his smile almost cracking his face.  The two of you walked toward the conference room where the complimentary lunch was set up.  Jeonghan and Wonwoo were already seated at a table in the corner. 

“The sophomore from Clempson” Wonwoo mumbled as Minghao and yourself joined them at the table.  

“What about him?” You asked as you reached for the water in the middle of the table.  

“Beat me in round four,” Wonwoo sighed, pushing his food around his plate.  

“Oh so you’re both out?” You looked between Minghao and Wonwoo, “What about you?” You asked, turning to Jeonghan. Jeonghan shook his head,

“I’m still in,” he turned to Minghao then, “Who got you?” In response, Minghao smirked and pointed a finger at you.  Jeonghan’s eyes followed in the direction he was pointing.  He tried not to smile and pushed away from the table. You don’t miss the roll of Minghao’s eyes as he watches Jeonghan walk out of the conference room.  

“I’ve heard about you,” your first opponent after the lunch break spoke over confidently as he sat down across from you.  “A girl at this competition is asinine.” 

“Well, I made it just as far as you so far,” you opened your notebook, “and I have heard nothing about you so might as well get this over with.”  You brought your eyes up to his, refusing to back down.  The man across from you scoffed at your bold reply.  

“God are all of you people from U of M like this?” He rolled his eyes, “A bitch and a bastard, you and Jeonghan.”  You could punch him, him and his smug face.  You bit your tongue to avoid getting yourself in trouble, if you didn’t beat him, Jeonghan certainly would.  

The match was quick, he was careless and sloppy, letting the delusion of confidence brought on by sexism carry him to a loss.  You thrusted out your hand for him to shake.  

“Thanks for the practice,” you smiled, glancing down at your hand.  He walked away without taking it.  You let your hand drop to your side, trying and failing to hide the fact that you were upset by his words.  

“This is my next table,” you heard Jeonghan’s unusually timid voice at your side.  

“Oh,” you shuffled to the side, “I’m sorry.” 

“What’s wrong?” He blinked at you, “Did you lose?” 

“No, obviously not,” you looked toward him.  

“Okay,” he chuckled, “then what happened?”

“He called me a bitch, and you a bastard.” You mumbled.  

“He called you what?” Jeonghan’s eyes wildly searched the room.        

“A bitch, but he also called you a bastard.” You reminded him.  

“Yeah, yeah,” he gestured vaguely, “that’s not the point.” 

“Drop it, no big deal, I knew this would happen,” you shook your head, “it always does.” With that, Jeonghan watched you walk toward another table. He sighed and sank down into the chair that you just vacated.  

Jeonghan was distracted for the rest of his matches, did he make you feel that way? He was sure he did, that first meeting you attended.  The difference was that he seemed to light a fire with his comment, whereas this asshole dampened your spirits.  Jeonghan could rip his face off, your confidence was one of the best parts of you.  

He sighed, moving his bishop across from his opponent’s king.  

“Check.” 

The man moved his king one space to the left.  This allowed Jeonghan to move his rook to trap the king.  

“Checkmate.” He muttered, raising from his seat, ignoring the other man’s outstretched hand.  He misses being challenged, namely by you, but he won’t admit that to himself just yet.  He wandered toward the front of the room, trying to waste time before his next table opened.  He caught sight of your concentrated face.  He leaned against the wall across from your table and watched the end of your match.  

You won, of course you won.  

“So your semi finals match against Ms. Y/L/N will start in 20 minutes at the table towards the front.” An official interrupted his thoughts.  

“What?” He tore his eyes away from you.  “Semi finals is this round?” 

“Yes, you and Ms. Y/L/N will begin in about 20 minutes,” he repeated gesturing to the table.  Jeonghan didn’t stick around to chat.  

“Y/N,” he snaked through people, “Y/N!” He caught your arm, and placed his hands on your shoulders.  He was smiling.  

“Jeonghan,” you nodded trying to ignore the feeling of electricity coursing through you.  

“We’re paired for the semi finals” 

“I am aware,” you smirked.  Your last match had given you the confidence to let your smug attitude reemerge.  

“Dove, please, nothing funny, just a straight up and down match,” he searched your eyes.  

“Oh, Jeonghan, this is too important.”

“Thank you, I agree,” he exhaled.  

“I need you to lose all on your own, not because I turn you on” 

You watched Jeonghan fiddle nervously with his fingers from across the table.  He was trying, and failing, to keep cool.  On the other hand, you kept eerily calm, you always prided yourself on your ability to seem unaffected by the situation at hand.  The breakdown earlier was a mistake you made in front of Jeonghan, one you wouldn’t be making again now.  

Once you were given the go ahead you began your opener.  Jeonghan felt his stomach drop watching your first several moves, you ditched the queen’s gambit, you weren’t playing safe.  He had no idea how to handle this.  You watched his fingers falter just slightly, you knew he was freaking out.  He might know your game well, but you knew him.  He was absolutely out of his depth.  

The two of you were well matched, eliminated participants gathered around your table.  People who didn’t know your name before today were watching in awe as you made moves that stunned even the man who’s name was on everyone’s lips before he even entered the building that morning.  

He knew you could play circles around him, that wasn’t the question anymore, he knew you were better than him.  That fact made him furious, and he had to figure out a way to beat you, and quickly because you pressed the button on your timer after claiming his second rook. His fingers twitched and he resisted the urge to make an uncalculated move. He could get a check right now, but he knows it’s flimsy and you could get out of it easily.  He settles for capturing your first bishop.  You always liked to use your bishop.

You calculated possibilities in your head, and then you saw it.  You dragged your queen to the center of the board, leaving Jeonghan no choice.  

“Checkmate,” you whispered, you weren’t sure if anyone but him heard you.  The moment seemed to freeze, you didn’t dare breathe, just in case Jeonghan shattered in front of you.  After what felt like an eternity he dragged his eyes from the queen to your wild eyes.   

He rose to his feet and walked out of the room wordlessly.  The crowd was silent as you watched him go.  Jeonghan Yoon, the reigning champion, was just defeated by a freshman, on his own team.  No one knew what to say.  You didn’t know what to say, in all honesty. You just sat there, watching the door, willing him to come back, but he never did.  

Minghao broke through the crowd and grabbed your shoulders.  

“You did it,” he breathed, “Come on.” He pulled you out of your chair. He congratulated you profusely as he held your hand and dragged you back to your room upstairs.  “Rest, recuperate, finals begin in a few hours.”

“Make sure he’s okay, Hao,” was all you could muster before closing the door and flopping yourself onto the bed.   

“Stop pacing, you're going to wear a rabbit trail into the floor,” Minghao muttered watching you continue your ruminations back and forth.  

“What if I lose?” 

“Then you lose, that doesn’t take away the fact that you made it this far, beating the reigning champion to do it.” He sighs.  You nodded, still not sure if you were okay with coming this far and losing.  Minghao watched your opponent approach finally and wrapped you into a hug, “Good luck,” he whispered into your hair before letting you go and taking his place in the crowd next to Wonwoo.  Jeonghan was still strikingly missing.   

You shook your opponent’s hand and took your seat.  The match started quickly, and rather unceremoniously.  It almost put your nerves at ease that there was no fanfare, just a straight up and down game just as you had been playing all day.  

The match quickly sucked you in, it was as if the rest of the room melted away.  The man across from you was good, almost as good as Jeonghan.  He was lucky that Jeonghan was paired with you in the semi finals, because you would have a different opponent right now if that weren’t the case.  However, this would end up working in your favor, you’ve never lost to Jeonghan, so why would you lose to someone worse?  

When you captured both of his knights he knew it was over, he didn’t let it show, but he knew.  He knew that you had dissected his game as you were playing him, which was the smartest strategy a player could use.  If you were smart enough to watch, learn and adjust as you were playing, you knew exactly what you were doing.  

He was almost honored when he heard you squeak, 

“Checkmate.” He held out his hand and you took it.  

“See you next year, Y/N” he smiled.  “Don’t expect it to be an easy rematch.” 

“I would never assume anything would be easy,” you smiled back at him, “thanks for the game.”  You turned back to the crowd for the first time since the match began.  Immediately you zeroed in on someone that wasn’t there when it started.  He was smiling widely.  The officials prevented you from leaving your table.  They spoke to you but none of it registered with you, you couldn’t take your eyes off of Jeonghan.  

“Smile,” he mouthed to you.  Camera flashes explained what he meant quickly, and you turned to smile at them while the officials were talking with reporters.  Eventually, everything settled down and you were able to find Jeonghan leaning against a wall near the window.  He once again had a cigarette lazily perched in his fingers.  

“You came,” you called to him as you approached.  His eyes lit up as he saw you and he reached out to smush the cigarette in a nearby ashtray.  

“Of course I did,” he wrapped his arms around you, “I’m sorry.” 

“What for?” 

“Girls not only can play chess, but they absolutely should, they’re smarter than all of us anyway.” You couldn’t help but laugh, the most freeing feeling after the insane day you had.  

“Finally, you see it!” 

“Oh shut up, we both know I’m stupid,” you didn’t even have time to agree before he was tilting your head up to give himself access to you.  He pressed his lips to yours, a continuation of the apology, showing everyone in the room how proud he was of you and not caring at all who sees anymore.  

[jesncin]

The Portrayal of Noah Ikumelo's Disability in Spurrier's Hellblazer and Dead in America run

Noah Ikumelo is a divisive new character introduced in Si Spurrier's 2019-2020 Hellblazer 12 issue solo (illustrated by Aaron Campbell and Matias Bergara, colors by Jordie Bellaire), he continues appearing as a recurring character in Hellblazer Dead In America (2024, 11 issues) Spurrier's long awaited continuation of his original run. Introduced in the very first issue as a Black, mute (hearing, but unable to orally speak) teenager who predominantly uses BSL to communicate.

We'll be discussing how Noah's disability was portrayed, how effective it was narratively, and thoroughly analyze the limits and ableist biases comics have as a visual language. Spoilers for Spurrier's Hellblazer and Dead In America run below. CW for ableism, racism, SA, police brutality, and general violence.

Disclaimer!! I am an able-bodied person with only occasional interactions with the Deaf community and am still studying ASL in my own time. All of these observations are made from an outsider perspective. I feel that starting a critical discussion from any source of knowledge for other more informed perspectives to follow up on is better than having no discussion at all.

However! I can offer some valuable perspective as a ~classically/formally trained~ comic artist- because we'll be discussing some inherit biases with how comic artists are trained to illustrate communication in this visual medium. I'll also be talking about lettering, which I'm nitpicky about so if I'm an expert on anything, it's those things.

I won't be going through each issue in as much detail as these first few issues for the sake of set up, but I will stop every now and then to discuss the portrayal of some scenes.

Let's start with Noah's very first appearance in Hellblazer 2019 #1. Noah is introduced as one of the very young members of a gang called the Ri-Boys. He's tasked with kidnapping a magic specialist to help get rid of murderous angelic spirits in their local park that are getting in the way of their prime location for selling drugs. He kidnaps John Constantine, who is quickly informed that Noah is mute.

Noah doesn't sign at all in this first issue, opting instead to communicate with a little notebook tied around his neck.

Despite K-Mag's (the gang leader) justification for recruiting teenagers as a "refuge" from a world that hates them, he's not afraid to treat Noah as disposable. He opts to send Noah's able-bodied friend (named Isa) on an errand instead of Noah because they "don't need no tongueless splesh backin' on ops-" and threatening Noah's life in order to get John to cooperate. So narratively the set up is clear: even though this gang is meant to provide jobs for the marginalized, it's still a bigoted organization that doesn't treat Noah well.

After accompanying John to the park where the angelic spirits murder another junkie, Noah is so traumatized by what he witnesses that he throws up on his notebook- rendering it unusable. Issue #2 starts with Noah raving in BSL (the image at the very top of this essay) to his gang mates that ignore him. When John asks if anyone knows sign language, he gets no response. It's clear that Noah is an outsider even among the Ri-Boys. Regardless, by the end of the issue in the following day, Noah is back to using his notebook (I guess he got a new one).

So. The notebook. I'll be honest I hate the notebook. It's such a clunky thing for Noah to carry around his neck, and it's clearly a set up so that Noah throws up on it and can't communicate to people who don't know sign.

On personal experience alone, I've been able to communicate with deaf people through texts on a shared phone. We'd just pull up notepad and write to each other to bridge the language barrier. And (as I've been informed by @scoliwings!) if phones running out of batteries is the worry, there's also pocket-sized boogie boards as a handy means of communication. At the very least Noah canonically has a phone (he is texting John in the panel above), and the Ri-boys can afford an ipad that K-Mag uses. These boogie board devices are much more affordable than either of those items and far better than a notebook.

Throughout Spurrier's treatment of Noah's disability, there will continue to be a sense of "we haven't even exhausted basic options to bridge a language barrier yet-" and this one is the first instance of that.

[this is not how the panels look in the comic, I chopped and arranged the last panel to save up on tumblr blog image space]

To keep this essay focused on Noah's disability, by issue #3 after some plot stuff progresses, John reveals to Noah that he actually can understand BSL. It turns out he knows "a bit" of BSL from a relationship he had with a deaf man in the 90s. Regardless, throughout Spurrier's whole run, John is shown to understand Noah's signing fluently. You might be wondering why John kept this a secret. Was he withholding his understanding of BSL so he could "eavesdrop" on something Noah signs to his friends without knowing? Nope. This reveal had no narrative purpose; John gained nothing from hiding this from everyone and it retroactively makes earlier scenes weirder. John just decides to reveal this to Noah for no other reason than to be a jerk I guess?

Once John fixes the "murderous angels in the park" problem, he also convinces K-Mag to let go of Noah from the Ri-Boys gang so that Noah can live a more honest life going to school (we will never see this) and uh. Being John's new personal driver. John used to have a friend, Chas, who drove him around everywhere but with Chas gone now- Noah is narratively set up to take his place.

Eagle-eyed readers might notice something odd about the way the scene where John reveals to Noah that he understands BSL is staged: if John supposedly understands what Noah is signing, why is he walking away, yet responding to what Noah is signing behind him? Yeah. This is one of the most annoying artistic blunders throughout all of Spurrier's Hellblazer runs with Noah. Despite Noah being mute, other characters still act like they can "hear" him.

Sign language isn't a language you can passively listen to. When someone is signing, that means you have to be looking at their hands and facial expression in order to understand what they're communicating to you. A casual irl example- in art school us hearing students could draw in our sketchbooks as the teacher lectured. A deaf student we had that year had to clarify that was not something they were able to do. As whenever the lecturer spoke- that meant that student would have to look up to their interpreter translating the lecture. So they weren't able to catch up with the classwork the way us hearing students could.

You'll notice in the panels above, John is preoccupied and talking to someone on his phone. Yet he's "hearing" what Noah is signing to him. John self identifies as someone who knows "a bit" of BSL- meaning he's not fluent. But this doesn't go anywhere since John's functionally fluent throughout both runs. It's like having a character say they know "a bit" of French only to show them being fluent through the whole story. Why bother mentioning a language barrier if it wasn't going to matter?

In these panels, Noah is signing while facing to the side- as in he's not facing John directly as he's signing, which obscures his signs from being clearly read. This wouldn't be a problem for folks who are way more fluent with any sign language (they can recognize signs at many angles), but for newbies you'll usually have people signing with their torso directly facing the other person to be as clear as possible. And they'll sign a lot slower. Little nuances like that make it clear that no one on the Hellblazer creative team have conversed with deaf people before- but why would something so obvious not be considered in the artistic direction of this run?

Let's quickly go over comics visual storytelling and how comic artists are trained to tackle staging a "talking heads" scene. Scenes like this are when characters are having a long conversation, visually giving the scene a "samey" vibe. Our job as comic artists is to keep the visuals interesting, so there are a ton of tricks we're taught to vary up how a conversation looks. We'll have a character hold a prop, walk around, look away to something else, have characters multi-task as they talk (bonus if it's thematic to the conversation), basically outside of zooming in and out it's good to keep a character busy to give the scene visual variety. Anything to break out of that silhouette of two characters directly facing each other.

[these are not how the panels are presented in the comic, I spliced these panels from 2 different issues to save up space]

Therein lies the problem: these tricks rely on an able-bodied standard of communication in order to function. Having a character like Noah communicate in sign, relies on the character he's signing towards to be paying full attention. Tackling "talking heads" as a comic artist explains but doesn't excuse these horrendous instances where poor staging of the characters ends up accidentally implying Noah "has a voice" because the able-bodied characters sure seem to be able to "hear" him even though they're facing all sorts of directions. Again, this just means the artist and writer have to rise to the challenge of keeping the scenes visually interesting while being inclusive to the disabled character the writer introduced into this world.

While we're talking about comics, I'm just going to go ahead and say I'm not a fan of the letterer's choices to visualize Noah's dialogue. To differentiate from the other characters, Noah's speechbubble is more like a caption box- it's square and light green. Instead of a tail pointing out of it to indicate who is talking like a traditional speechbubble would, instead Noah's dialogue box has a long arrow coming out of it. The arrow pointing out is just so corny. It says: "look! here's where the words are coming from! His hands!! Whoaaa".

Moreover, the arrows ruin the visual flow of the comic pages. We humans are hard wired to look at where an arrow is pointing. It's what that symbol is designed for. It's why all those clickbait youtube thumbnails have arrows pointing on them, it steals your attention. The best kind of speechbubbles are unobtrusive to the art, complementing it. Having it so that whenever Noah has dialogue we get these annoying arrows that stick out of the page composition just ruins it. Here's what it looks like edited on other characters' speechbubbles. It's a lettering eyesore.

I see no reason why Noah can't have a speechbubble tail like everyone else. I personally like making the speecbubble tail a lil-squiggly when I'm drawing a speechbubble for a character signing. Differentiating the speechbubble enough but not to the point it's obtrusive to the page flow.

Additionally, Noah has "translation brackets" around his dialogue- it's a block of dialogue that starts with the "less than" symbol and ends with the "greater than" symbol to indicate a sentence being translated from another language.

<So you'll have a character's dialogue look like this in the speech bubble.> *

accompanied by a translation box clarifying that the dialogue is; [*translated from French, for example] in the first instance we see the language featured in the comic. Of course this isn't the only way to portray language in comics, sometimes letterers will go for using colored text to differentiate languages. There's no standard look! Noah's dialogue never featured an initial caption box that discloses what language he's signing in. I'm going to charitably presume that it's a stylistic move away from that practice so that the reader is put in the same confused position as John is upon first meeting Noah.

I don't personally have an issue with the application of translation brackets to Noah's dialogue. Because even though Noah is communicating in a type of English language (British Sign Language), what we're seeing written in the dialogue of the comic isn't a direct translation of what he's signing. Unless it's Sign Exact English, sign language has different sentence structure, grammar and syntax from spoken English. So if Noah signs something like "#BUS RED YOU SEE WILL", then that translates to him saying "You will see a red bus." in written dialogue. It's a translation of his signing, even if it's still English.

I don't think there's an indisputably correct way to portray sign language in comics. Something like this will go down to personal stylistic choice of the artist. Maybe one artist decides they don't want to put brackets on ASL dialogue because they'd rather use that to differentiate English language from non-English language. There's an argument to be made either way! So long as you commit to your set of rules, I can at least try to engage with where an artistic choice is coming from even if I disagree with how it's done.

Unfortunately, that's not the case for Dead in America:

It's in the very last issue of the run, but well. You forgot the translation brackets there, guys. Sloppy work.

To wrap up Noah's arc in Hellblazer 2019, Noah is revealed to be John Constantine's son. John had a graveyard fling with Liza Ikumelo, a police woman (barf), thereby insulting a demonic spirit (and by extension, me, the reader). Many years later the spirit hunts down the woman, cursing her to an eternal sleep. Her child, Noah, was nearby and by proxy lost his voice from the incident. So it's John Constantine's fault that Noah's mute, and that Noah's mom is in a coma. Hellblazer 2019 ends with John feeling an immense guilt for forcing Noah to kill a friend, meaning they now have to flee the country. John doesn't tell Noah that Noah is his son.

So despite the poor portrayal of Noah's disability in this run, his character overall at this point was a really interesting addition to Hellblazer lore. He has a unique background of hardship; cursed by John's shenanigans at birth without even knowing it, and despite all of that he still has it in him to want to help and be kind. The reveal that he's John's son adds a layer of tragedy to everything- what does it mean to be another continuation of the Constantine family? Without even knowing it? There's plenty of angst on John's end of things, having unknowingly been an absent father for years. We get to see echoes between father and son in their actions. They're both from harsh backgrounds but humanitarians at heart, in different ways. It's very compelling stuff.

Years later, Dead In America is released as the long awaited continuation of this story. John, his friend Nat, and Noah are in America now, going on a long cross country road trip in a double decker London bus. Why? Just because. Noah and Nat take turns driving because John can't drive. In my opinion Dead In America is a bigger, more convoluted plot so I will stick to summarizing things that are relevant to Noah's disability.

This run has all the same problems as the 2019 Hellblazer run does with characters not being staged properly when Noah is signing to them, but it's the very first issue that reveals something particularly damning about how Spurrier views sign as a language.

As Noah is driving the bus he is instructed not to stop for anyone. But later that night he suddenly does. John berates Noah, only to be surprised that Noah is speaking (and sounding uncharacteristically posh)! John suddenly can't speak, instead he signs. This is how he realizes he's in a dream and regains his ability to speak. It's clear what's intended by the storytelling here. Seeing an able bodied person sign is part of the surrealism that makes this scene out of the ordinary. It's supposed to be odd that John is signing, because it's weird that Noah is the one speaking. Signing is a thing only disabled people do, not anyone else. This dream sequence is the only time a character other than Noah signs.

This single narrative choice has a drastic ripple effect on the rest of the run; it means that through both runs, no one ever signs back to Noah. According to the National Association of the Deaf, 72% of hearing parents with deaf kids don't learn sign language. This leads to deaf kids struggling culturally within their own families. Sign language expresses things that written or spoken languages can't. So having their own family not bother to learn sign is deeply isolating for deaf kids. By not having anyone but especially John sign to Noah, any narrative attempt to portray familial care and consideration between the two is undercut by this barrier. Sure John cares for his son in his own way, but not enough to converse with him in his own language.

This is when it became clear to me that Noah's use of BSL functions more as "a voice but #diverse" instead of portraying sign language as a culture and community of its own. It's like characters of color being written as white, where their identities are just a palette change. Only here, it's more of "this character is speaking, but with his hands this time" never mind how that drastically changes how a character navigates the world and how people interact with him. Attempts at writing Noah's disability in this run continue to be lackluster at best and insulting at worst.

Don't get me wrong, Noah is not a "whitewashed" character- his Blackness is integrated into the narrative of both Hellblazer 2019 and Dead In America... for better or for worse. By this I mean especially in Dead In America, Spurrier really likes to use Noah as a prop to show how racist America is. I don't think there's anything wrong with showing some uncomfortable scenes of Noah facing off American cops. In fact I like how this scene in the first issue shows the specific struggles a Black disabled person goes through, being double profiled as someone dangerous when Noah's attempts to communicate are misinterpreted as a threat- it sets the tone for how dangerous the country is for someone like him.

The original Hellblazer showed plenty of scenes where John is brutalized by the cops in both the UK and US, so gritty commentary is right at home with the character's stories. The difference here is there is almost a giddiness to inventing scenarios for Noah to experience profoundly racist situations at the expense of Noah's own characterization in this run. It becomes more obvious as we progress.

This is another nitpick but when John, Nat, and Noah meet up with Clarice Sackville (an elderly magician lady) in issue #2, Noah discreetly signs to John, calling Clarice a "wrinkled old hag" only for John to whisper back "Be grateful she can't sign, Noah." meaning "be glad she can't understand what you're saying". If there was any opportunity to use sign language as a means of discreetly communicating around someone who doesn't understand it, this would've been the moment. But alas, only disabled people use sign language, right guys. John can only sign in a weird dream sequence.

The punchline here is that Clarice actually understood what Noah was signing, making a jab at him for calling her a "wrinkled old hag". I don't know how she understood what Noah was signing when she was clearly facing away from him the whole time but well. That's basically a tradition for Spurrier's runs at this point. Technically John's dialogue isn't wrong here. Clarice "can't sign". She understands it, but doesn't sign. Because that's a thing only disabled people do.

Let's put a pin on issue #4 and skip ahead to Dead In America issue #5. This is essentially an anthology issue containing short stories of little incidents John, Nat, and Noah encounter on the American road. I will be discussing the second story, "One-Way Ticket" written by Aaron Campbell (ordinarily the main artist of Spurrier's runs) with art by guest artist John Pearson.

It's a story about a ghost guy who wants to go home but everyone ignores him (because they can't see him), John helps out by discovering his dead body and bringing the spirit comfort. It's a cute and cozy story if it weren't for the abysmal way Noah is treated in it, completely contradicting its themes. Noah is horrified at the prospect of John leaving him alone in the red bus, fearing the cops will show up. John responds "You're mute, just pretend you're dumb too." Even for asshole-John standards this is unnecessarily cruel. Dead In America started with Noah being profiled by the police, so Noah's fears are as founded as it gets. This short story may not be written by Spurrier, but it is written by the artist who DREW THAT SCENE.

I didn't splice the panels above, that is exactly how they are presented in the comic. Not only do we have characters facing away from Noah as he's signing again (a tradition even guest artists continue to perpetuate it seems), but it's followed up immediately with a ghost being grateful that John recognizes him. The irony that John gets told that after ditching his son. Why not make the story about Noah relating to the ghost? Remember that scene where Noah is signing to the Ri-Boys and they all ignore him? He and the ghost could connect over how they're ignored and treated as disposable, how accommodation for people like them is considered an inconvenience, how no one cares when their life is threatened.

When John returns from discovering the ghost's dead body, just like clockwork Noah is being searched by a cop. Only now it's treated like a joke instead- with Nat taking a smoke on the side and John just slapping a spell on the cop to make him stop.

This nonchalant carelessness for the portrayal of cops is a big departure from how ACAB John was in his original Hellblazer run. John was a man who could outsmart and kill the Vampire King only to be immediately beat up by cops afterwards. He's called homophobic slurs for defending the dead body of his sex worker guy friend. It paints this image of a guy who can overcome the supernatural but doesn't stand a chance against mundane human cruelty. Because that kind of thing takes more than a magic trick to defeat. But in Dead In America, cops are a mild inconvenience to John. He can just cast spells on them and move on. It's disappointing how even in a run that's supposed to be a return to form for Hellblazer, John isn't as radical as he was written in the 80s and 90s. The cops don't have the kind of threatening authority they had in the older comics. Don't worry, it gets worse.

Let's hop and skip ahead to Dead In America issue #9. For plot reasons, John went missing. He disappeared to Hell and back for four weeks, separated from Noah and Nat. When he reunites with his friends, they want nothing to do with him. They're now running their own little film studio, shooting a film that metatextually reflects their road trip adventure. Again, for plot reasons. They're teaming up with a metamancer to speed filmmaking along. Nat's the director and Noah's the producer. He's practicing magic, and even found himself a girlfriend, Liz! She's an Asian girl though and that worries me. Because Asian love interests are usually seen as narratively disposable. A racist character assumes Noah is using "mind magic on her" because there's no way Noah would end up with someone so "hot", right? Right.

[spliced panels from issue 9 and 10]

Issue #10 is when we get very much needed perspective from Noah and Nat's point of view. Nat always wanted to be a writer, while Noah longs for a life of normalcy. The two narrate their backstories, building their life up to meeting John, to where they are now with their film studio.

We learn how Noah got into using magic, and. Urgh. Sick of dealing with a language barrier as a disabled person, Noah uses magic to communicate with people. It's another case of "we haven't even exhausted basic options to bridge a language barrier yet-" I get it, throughout this run Noah doesn't have his notebook, and he doesn't appear to have his phone either (perhaps to hide from the authorities tracking them down) but to that I say pocket-sized boogie boards are still an affordable option that won't get you tracked down by the cops. I'd even prefer him buying another notebook over this. In this issue he's even seen with a phone, so what do I know.

"huh! I just remembered that I, an American, actually do know British Sign Language! Hah how could I forget something like that ho ho" it's just so trite. Like we're not even going to try and grab a paper and pen to communicate? We're skipping to using dark magic instead? Okay. Worst of all, so you're telling me the racist loser was right about Noah?? That Noah wouldn't have a chance with Liz if it weren't for magic? What are we doing...

I'm not including the panel here but after Noah narrates "I won't use this shit to coerce people-- I'm not him. But... making things easier? Simpler? Why not?" the following panel is of him and Liz getting funky style in bed. Even with Noah saying he won't "coerce people" he still says that magic can make things easier. Simpler. There is this uncomfortable implication that Noah "made it easier" for Liz to sleep with him. Sure it can be read that he got close to her through them communicating on the same page. But when their relationship isn't developed, narratively she just kind of exists as a prop for his desires. To quote Noah himself in Dead In America issue #4: "It was rape."

Time to revisit that pin. So issue #4 is about John and Noah masquerading as an exorcist and...an enslaved person to trick a small town into revealing a coverup: a girl was assaulted by six boys in their local football team, ending her own life from her story being pushed aside for the bright future of the football boys. Noah is so infuriated by how she was mistreated that he beats up one of the boys. It's a heavy story about how far a town will go to protect the future of boys while discarding the life of the girl, who to this day is anonymous. If you're wondering whether Noah pretending to be an enslaved person was necessary to the con, I can assure you it really wasn't.

What's frustrating here is that are we really supposed to believe that Noah, a character who was willing to risk his safety by beating up a rapist, would then go ahead and "make it easier" to sleep with a girl later? Remember. The reason he did that was because his disability was apparently holding him back. Are we really having it so the only person of color in John's cast for this story did this? That if he wasn't disabled, he wouldn't do this? It's frankly disgusting.

Through John's silver tongue trickery, he pulls shenanigans that cause Nat and Noah to get arrested. Despite Nat being known to be violent, Noah is the one who is brutalized by the cops and put into solitary confinement. Because racism. Spurrier really wants you to know that American cops are so racist, guys.

I wonder where all this energy was for his Hellblazer 2019 run taking place in the UK. Where the only cop characters were noble people of color who are looking out for each other. Noah's own mom was a cop, even. He'll show Noah looking tense in a car as cops walk by in Hellblazer 2019, but for Dead In America? Noah is profiled by police three times, made to play an enslaved person for John's ends, and is in the receiving end of so many bigoted characters' racism. Spurrier is selective about his portrayal of cops when it suits him.

At this point it's transparent looking back at the treatment of Noah's character throughout Dead In America, that there's a giddiness Spurrier (and technically Campbell) have in crafting racist scenarios for Noah to go through. But it's okay because they have John say a lamp-shading comment to assure readers that the writers recognize "This Is A Racist Thing Happening".

Reading Dead in America reminded me of the discourse surrounding "Strange Fruit" a comic by Mark Waid and J. G. Jones. I won't belabor explaining the plot, but what they have in common is this self congratulatory "giddiness to put Black characters in compromising situations" I keep describing. Like, they didn't have to create a naked Black Superhero named "Johnson" who doesn't speak and wears a confederate flag while dealing with racists in the Jim Crow era South but...these white writers just didn't have a choice! It's the rules of story! John has to pretend Noah is his property!

"Strange Fruit's desire to make big, albeit familiar statements about America's sinful past and do justice to both the subject matter and history often comes at the expense of considerate or even dimensional characterization."

-Vox writer Tre Johnson, 2017.

This is the kind of giddiness to indulge in fictional cruelty that isn't written with Black readers in mind. It's to entertain white readers with an exaggerated depiction of racism to make themselves feel better about being British. And if anyone's excuse is "well it's Hellblazer! Vertigo comics are supposed to talk about uncomfortable topics, John gets beat up by cops too back in the day", then need I remind you that unlike John, the sheer frequency Noah is put into these compromising scenarios is at the expense of his characterization.

Don't think that Spurrier's done playing with his "America Sure Is Racist" prop yet though.

As Noah (still bruised and battered) escapes prison, John pulls a couple more tricks on him: he "accidentally" reveals that Noah is his son, tricks Liz into faking her death to freak Noah out (we'll never see her again after this), and gets Clarice to pretend to die in front of him. All this angers Noah into attempting to kill John- but he stops. Because Noah still isn't that kind of person.

This is all part of John's plan, supposedly he made a deal with demons in Hell that if John himself is killed in the allocated time, he won't actually die. But his plan failed. Unfortunately for John, Nat is still filming their road trip movie, and whatever the actors do, the real characters do as well. A script change happens, and John ends up killing Noah.

But aha, this is yet another trick. By issue #11, Noah wakes up bruise-free and alive (he even gets to smash in John's stand in actor for good measure). Turns out, John's deal with the demons of Hell was for his son to live, instead- a selfless act that none of the Gods and demons saw coming. After John does some more silver-tongue talking to a Dream Entity, he's able to grant people some rushed happy endings.

Noah's mom wakes up from her eight year magical coma, the policeman hunting down Nat and Noah deletes his files, and Nat becomes the boss of a major studio- her writer dreams come to fruition. I don't know how Noah's getting back home to his mom, but shh shhh it's a happy ending, Spurrier promises.

So we have a twist to the usual Hellblazer story. Instead of John surviving at the expense of his friends and family, now John sacrifices his life to Noah and Nat so they can live freely. Last but certainly not least, as Clarice dies she gifts Noah the ability to speak. And when Noah does speak, he sounds so out of character I thought I was misreading things. Is this another lettering mistake? No? Then what is this random poetry.

I recognize what the narrative is doing here. It's John's fault that Noah's mom is in a coma and that Noah is mute, so the resolution to that conflict is for him to undo the wrongs he did to the Ikumelo family- which includes Noah being "cured" of his disability. The problem here is not only is this an exhausting continuation of the "disabilities getting cured" trope- so Noah can join the "easier, simpler" life of able bodied people- but also that a large facet of Noah's identity is tied to John's character development.

Noah might not be the main character, but he's the deuteragonist of Dead In America- the beating family heart that ties John to someone who would otherwise be a stranger. Instead of narratively endearing us to Noah's character, Spurrier seems content to just have Noah drive the bus only to make occasional stops to demonstrate how Racist America Is. It's such a fall from grace to the intriguing character we met in Hellblazer 2019. All that characterization of someone willing to help despite a life of hardship is just out the window.

[spliced panels]

My overall feelings about the treatment of Noah Ikumelo is that whatever representation he embodies feels like being thrown a really shitty party. Noah Ikumelo is an original creation for these two runs. Si Spurrier didn't have to make Noah a Black disabled teenager, but he did. Spurrier takes up that responsibility of representation by half-assing it. The kind of thing a guy who gloats about a bi-colored comic cover would do before accidentally calling the character in it "pansexual" in said comic. And then backpedal on twidder when called out for it. Half ass behavior.

Noah went from being this interesting exploration of unintended legacy to being a prop to make shallow commentary on American racism. Noah is never drawn consistently between artists but he sure is adultified a bunch to the point that I even see readers describing him as "basically an adult" when he's only 16-17 years old. I get that it's supposed to be tragic that he's forced to grow up too soon, but part of that tragedy is that he still is a kid. The portrayal of his disability shows how no research was put into being inclusive in either the writing or the art to the point it's downright nonsensical. The research amounts to looking up a sign language dictionary for words and that's it. This isn't even touching on how there was no recognition of the intersection between Black culture and sign language.

The problems with Noah Ikumelo are not unique to Hellblazer, or Si Spurrier or the Hellblazer creative team. They're a reflection of a predominantly able-bodied and white industry that is comics and media as a whole. The very way comics as a medium is taught carries with it an ableist standard for portraying communication. All this to say that tackling a character like Noah would mean doing the extra work to be critical of what we're used to seeing as the norm. But if you were just going to half-ass setting up a party for Black disabled readers, then why even bother y'know? It's not like Spurrier was held at gun point to create a disabled character. Frankly he was too busy crafting scenarios for guns to be pointing at Noah instead.

[simp-ly-writes]

The Titanic

─────── · · For All Time: The Series (pt.4)

─ · · PAIRING: 10th Doctor x F!Time Lord!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: One year, twenty-one days, and nine hours since you had last seen a Time Lord (not including yourself in the mirror), and you were ready to made that twenty-three days while voyaging on the Titanic... if only the Doctor didn't have similar plans...

─ · · TAGS: jealous!Doctor 👀, female pronouns used, second person perspective, canon divergence, soulmate au, emotional angst, ✨ tension ✨, coarse language, eventual happy ending (but not yet), not beta read.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 4,169 | PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FIVE

─ · · A/N: I. am. so. invested in these two I swear-

─────── · · 

One year, twenty-one days, and nine hours since you had last seen a Time Lord, not including yourself of course while preparing your century-conscious appearance in the mirror this morning. It was the early 20th century- just ahead of world war one and part way through the second industrial revolution. 

City streets were covered in a layer of smog, cars were humming loudly past you and various city dwellers could be heard shouting in the early morning streets. Even with the ability to time travel you still found yourself late, pushing yourself through the mass of people at the port all there to catch a glimpse of the “Wonder Ship.” 

You listen as the horns blare, cheer erupt from the crowd you apologize and step around before finally making your way in life to board. Psychic paper in one hand, your TARDIS luggage in the other. And to think some don’t think to carry their’s with them, you smile to yourself, flashing the blank paper at one of the staff members. 

“Welcome aboard the RMS Titanic, Miss. (last/name). We hope you have a pleasant trip,” the young man greets you with a slight bow, “may we take your luggage to your room for you?” He offers, extending his hand to yours yet you pull back just in time. 

“I should be fine with this old thing, I think the gentlelady behind me might need some help though,” you tilt your head back signalling to the refined woman behind you and the array of suitcases her various staff carry behind her. 

“I will do just that, Miss. Smith,” he smiles at you and you mirror the same before making your way up the step onboard. You pause just in front of the staircase, luggage being supported by both your hands as you spin around in a circle to watch as the stained glass dome above reflects against the mosaic tiles and marble staircase. The carved wood beams and panelled walls are nothing short of stunning not to mention all the crystal fixtures. Humans… never cease to amaze me with their pure determination…

Looking down at your watch, the undocking ceremony would be happening in just under an hour and with that in mind, you made your way towards your room. Yet just before you could turn down the last hall a male voice called out to you, “Madame! Mademoiselle! Miss! Ah- Lady? Duchess?... Princess? Excuse me!” footsteps rushed in your direction before pausing just in front of you. 

“At some point I have been all of the above but its Miss (last/name) now,” you clarify while observing the man before you; watching as their shirt expanded and flexed with every breath, the man smiles apologetically at you, cheeks slightly flushed from running as a white-gloved hand presents a key hanging from a silk bow to you, “well then, Miss. All of the above, you dropped this in the lobby,” he explains. 

“Oh… thank you,” you take the key gently from his possession and tuck it into your pocket before continuing down the hall- pausing after a few steps hearing as he does not turn back, “Is everything alright?” you question. 

“Yes, quite. I was just wondering… do you drink?” You hum to yourself in contemplation. 

“Depends on what's being served,” you counter, playing with the stitching on your gown. 

“We’re on the Titanic, they’ve got it all,” he does his best to entice you with a dazzling wink. 

“If that's the case then… How could I refuse, Mister…?” you linger your words for an answer. It feels good being wanted, you think to yourself standing up that bit taller feeling as his gaze lingers on your warming cheeks. 

“Mr. Hartley, Wallace Hartley-” he begins to answer before your own excitement cuts him off, “the musician!- violinist and band lead if I am correct?”

“Most certainly so, It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he bends down, pressing a kiss to the back of your gloved hand, touch lingering as he stares up at you before letting go. You feel one of your hearts skip a beat as you shift your weight from foot to foot. “...Can I expect to see you at the Lounge at seven?” he asks. 

“Till then, Mr. Hartley,” you give him one last look over before entering your room and falling against the closed door. Maybe I allow myself this one night to forget who I am… just the one…

─────── · ·

“Doctor! I have nothing to wear, we’re going on the bloody titanic of all things and I can’t waltz up on the deck wearing M&S!” Donna yells from her room, various articles of clothing thrown out into the hall as the Doctor emerges from the wardrobe in a full black tailored suit with a silk bow-tie to match. “Well don’t you clean up nicely, making me feel real good here spaceman,” Donna grumbles before throwing a shoe by his foot that he kicks aside. 

“You do know that the TARDIS has a full costume room… right?” the Doctor dips his head, whispering the information in an effort to lower his companions tone. 

“And you didn’t think to, oh- I don’t know, tell me that sooner before I emptied my whole closet?!” Donna stands with a frustrated sigh before walking past the Doctor and across the hall to open the suddenly-appeared door. She lets out a long low whistle at the multi-leveled room, each article organized and tagged by planet and era. “Why do you have so many feminine articles?” She picks out a Rococo gown, mesmerized by every pearl detail that glimmers underneath the warm lighting, “I mean this is just… it really takes your breath away, just look! Someone made this!”

The Doctor pauses, a frown noticeably forming on his face as Donna picks up one of your old dresses. He remembers ordering that very gown for you whilst visiting the Queen of France for the first time. He watched you spin and twirl underneath the candlelight, held you in his arms as you smiled brightly up at him. He could still feel your painted lips underneath his shirt before you buttoned it up with a teasing smirk that made him feel hot and bothered all night long- “Doctor?”

The Time Lords blinks repeatedly, “Sorry, what?” He clears his throat, standing up straight- refusing to look Donna in the eyes. 

“Is everything alright?” she asks, placing the gown back on the rack, concerned for her best-friend. 

“It's nothing,” the Doctor shrugs it off, starting to humm to himself while making his way ‘further in time’ towards the earlier twentieth century in search of something for his companion to wear. “I think we have a few options over here and shoes are just underneath. I’ll grab you a coat for the deck.” 

Donna silently watches as the Doctor flinches while touching certain articles of clothing as if they burned him, his eyes blinking away the smoke and ash before casting her a bright smile, coat and shoes in arms. “I think this is everything, I’ll be in the console room when you’re ready-”

“Doctor?” Donna calls out once more, heart pained seeing as the Doctor forcibly tries to stifle a pain burning from within. 

“Yes?” the Doctor pauses at the door, turning back around while staring down at his shoes. Donna pauses, eyes casting over the lanky man’s frame with a saddened sigh, “can I ask you something?”

“You just did-” he quips.

“Oi! Don’t you get all smart on me now,” Donna hisses like a disappointed mother watches as the Doctor's shoulders only deflate more. “Who wore these clothes?”

The Doctor stills, breathing and hearts stopped as the oxygen in the room becomes heavy in his lungs causing him to cough up an excuse. Donna instantly regrets asking the question having never seen the Doctor appear so… weak and small. “You don’t have to answer that!” She quickly rushes out yet the Doctor concedes. 

“They were- they are everything to me, the stars, the void, and time itself…” The Doctor opens his mouth, hesitating before killing the thought as it sparks, “we really must get going now or else I’m afraid we’ll miss the band playing,” the Doctor proceeds to storm out of the wardrobe, hand clenched into a fist that he forces himself to ease. 

─────── · ·

The Lounge is packed by the time you arrive. The undocking ceremony was… uneventful and took quite some time to move such a ship from the port that you left part ways. Wallace was already performing on stage, casting you a wink as you moved towards the front of the stage to take a seat at one of the lower tables. A crystal glass sat in your hands, a small plate of finger-food on the table for you to pick at as you watched the ice melt whilst tapping your foot to the beat, head swinging side to side- following the rhythm. 

You can hear the small conversations happening around you, the clinking of glasses and polite laughs but amongst all the noise a small gasp has you turning around in your seat, attention peaked to find a tall, slender, and very handsome man with brown eyes already staring back at you and your bond snaps back into place. Your hearts stop, you feel yourself sink more into your chair, rooted in place as the song begins to pick up with the shakes in your hand as if you're conducting it. 

With parted lips you whisper a name you promised yourself to forget yet never seemed able to, hands squeezing and threatening to shatter the crystal in your hand. Doctor… and the man responds to the title with darkened eyes and long strides over to you before being stopped by the ginger woman on his arm. You shake your head at the scene, of course! You laugh at yourself before forcing your eyes back towards the stage seeing as Wallce is already looking concerned at you. Want to leave? He mouths, eyes pointed towards the backstage door. 

You raise a brow, Leave, now? But you’re performing… you mouth back, setting your glass on the table and readjusting your gloves. 

Wallace only shrugs before whispering something into the pianist's ear and the song slowly dies out. You stand quickly, clapping with the rest of the crowd as Wallace hands his violin off to one of his band members and jumps down from the stage, sauntering over to you and presses a kiss to the back of your hand.

You jolt at the touch, your skin coming alive with a thousand sparks trying to reach the surface and taking on the appearance of goosebumps hidden beneath your gloves and sleeves. Wallace places a hand against your back that slowly dips down seeing as the Doctor nears and for a moment you doubt your ability to see properly as the moment feels too surreal. 

Whatever rush you originally felt was met with an overwhelming sense of calm, as if you were simply resting underwater and being hugged by all angles, protected under his gaze. “Hello sweetheart,” he speaks softly, hand raising slowly to hover just below your chin yet refusing to touch. 

He watches you, waiting for you to reply, to pull him in or push him back like the tide. You press more weight into Wallace’s side as the Doctor studies you, Wallace’s head drops in order to whisper in your ear- asking if you’re alright. The Doctor’s hand twitches at the sight, the millisecond of a touch has you taking in a shaky breath and you suddenly feel too hot, cheeks flushed and throat dry as your body wants nothing more than to be near the Doctor, to try and reform your bond. 

You catch the fiery-haired woman's gaze as she looks between you and the Doctor in nothing short of purse shock and maybe a bit of terror. The Doctor’s hand lingers, slowly cupping your cheek, pulling your face gently closer, “you’re… so you,” his words broken and strained by on-coming tears, “so incredibly, eternally beautiful,” he whispers too quietly for human ears.  

Your throat is dry as you lick your lips, unsure of how to respond- you pull away from his touch, instantly regretting your actions by the wince in his eyes and the sharp pain you feel in your hearts. You force your gaze away and towards Wallace, “Mr. Hartley, meet my ex-husband, John Smith. Mr. Smith, this is Mr. Heartley.”

The Doctor reaches out and grabs the other man's hand in a firm handshake with dead eyes and to your shock, Wallace levels the Doctor's look, looping his arm around your waist with a stiff smile, “A pleasure, Mr. Smith.”

“Wish I could say the same, Mr. Heartley and now darling, ex-husband? Can we at least discuss something’s-” the Doctor begins to ramble, taking a step closer before Donna grips the back of his suit, “Mr. Smith! What on Earth do you think you’re doing?”

Yet you both don’t pay attention to the human, your reminiscent gaze now hardened by the Doctor's apparent nonchalance, “You would still be my husband if you didn’t try and kill me, darling, or did you forget already? Seems that's an easy thing for you to do,” you spit out the pet name with enough venom to have the fellow Time Lord stumbling back in shock and hurt before becoming overwhelmed in rage. 

“Forget?” the Doctor wiggles Donna's grasp off himself as he storms back up to you, pointing a finger between your two hearts, “I forgot nothing. Not their screams, the death and murders. Not our wedding and our travels and especially not the way you make me feel. How could I ever forget about the best thing in my life?”

You laugh, cackle even as you stand straight and walk out of Wallace’s hold, the Doctor's finger now pressed against your heaving chest as you shake with anger. “If this is how you treat the best thing in your life, I really must not know who you are anymore, John-”

“I’m not John to you, not now, not ever,” the Doctor’s tone is low as he glares down at you causing you to suddenly notice just how tall this regeneration is as he looms over you, enveloping you in his shadow. 

“You lost any titles the moment you kissed another, you lost me once you began dreaming of her, and you lost any chance to be together again when you broke me so irreversibly that the Master had to come and help me out of all creatures! You. are. a. monster,” you grip the lapels of his suit jacket firmly between your fingers knowing that you’ll leave more than just creases by the time you were done with him and everything he did to you.

“And what? The Master is some saint?! He killed millions without cause and you call me the monster?” The Doctor's jaw is slack, disbelief echoing in the shakes of his head. You can feel his hearts racing and watch as a few strands of hair fall against his forehead. We’re awfully close holding each other like this, you think to yourself feeling as his warm breath fans your cheek and the gentle yet firm way he holds your hips. 

You swallow deeply, the Doctor's gaze immediately locking on to your throat, lingering on a section he remembers kissing the sweetest sounds out of. A thumb now circles your side causing you to bite your lip before responding, “You’ve killed millions too and most certainly more,” you grumble, feeling yourself slowly starting to lose your anger by every circle he traces. I hate the effect you have on me.

The Doctor hums, eyes flicking down to your lips and back up again with a wink, “and I would burn down the whole galaxy again if you simply asked me to.” 

Again? You question yet are too caught up on winning the argument to care. “I hate you,” you mumble, adjusting his crooked tie. 

“No, you don’t,” the Doctor whispers into your ear while casting Wallace a smirk as he presses you against his chest, “You’ll always love me and I’ll always love you, for better or for worse.” 

“What makes you so sure of that?” words becoming slightly muffled as you press your face into his chest, soaking up the pure bliss and protection you feel in the Doctor's arms- like all the pain and suffering I’ve faced just fades away, you swallow deeply knowing this just to be your bond speaking to you but a small part within begs it all to be real, but it can’t, not after everything he’s done, I just wouldn't be right or fair to all the suffering I’ve faced. 

The Doctor closes his eyes, grip tightening around you as he places his chin atop your head, “Because we both fear the same thing… the darkness being all that's left and waiting for us at the end.” You let his words linger in the air just like his touch you try and absorb before peeling yourself away, every step like a shot to your chest. 

Don’t go, the Doctor's eyes speak, his touch featherlight whilst holding your hand, gaze utterly pained seeing your broken smile that wavers on a frown and you let go, apologizing to Wallace on your way out before making your way to your room without looking back. You could feel the Doctor’s gaze lingering on you until you were out of sight and even then the ghost of his touch still haunted you all the way back to your TARDIS. 

─────── · ·

Donna was struggling to keep up to the Doctor's long and determined strides as he blindsighted the various ornate details of the ship on a mission towards the lounge. “Doctor! Doctor,” Donna panted, stumbling into his back in her heels as the Time Lord stopped suddenly. “What’s got you in such a rush? This thing is sinking anyways so I don’t think any of your enemies would be aboard-”

“I just feel something, can’t place my finger on just what it is,” the Doctor cuts his companion off, taking a moment to allow Donna to catch her breath before she loops her arm around his in an effort to pace his strides. 

“Well whatever it is it better not be a heart attack since I don’t know the first thing on resuscitating two hearts,” Donna quips while staring at the frosted glass doors before the Doctor bows, inviting her into the room with a teasing smile. 

“I’ll show you how to after…” his sentence dies on his lips after losing the fight to a sharp in-take of air when he hears a rather irregular but all too familiar heartbeat in the crowd. A well dressed woman somehow hears his shock from across the room and turns in their seat to meet his gaze. It was like two stars colliding, an explosion of feeling that expands his chest when he hears his title addressed by your very lips and a chill runs down his spine. 

He wished he had a way to record this moment, to remember it as vividly as he was feeling it, but that would just be a waste of tape, he thinks to himself seeing as you turn back around without a second glance in his direction. Your rejection stings, acting as if he was just another face in the crowd and to make matters worse jealousy fires through his veins in watching some musician eye you up from the stage. And with a burning passion to have you look at him again, his shoes take action, body twisting and turning through the crowd with polite apologies that too die on his lips seeing as the musician's arm works its way around your waist, a position he remembered fondly taking. 

The Doctor almost smirks as your body reacts before your head, turning subconsciously to focus on him and he drinks in your flushed cheeks and wide eyes greedily. “Hello sweetheart,” his hearts sing with utter joy as you are just within reach, his hand lifting to caress your face gently as if you were made of glass. 

Another jolt of pain seeing as you lean into the musician has him drawing in want, lean into me, my love, he internally begs and uses a soft tone to try and hide some of his desperation from painting himself to be a pathetic picture in your eyes. “You’re… so you,” he fails to hide his emotions as tears force themselves forwards, “so incredibly, eternally beautiful….” and you pull yourself away again and again from him, each time more painful than the last. 

And with every word that takes the form of a sharpened stick staked into his chest, he can only stand still and wounded as you walk away and return to being just another memory that he would hold on tightly to until he forgot how it felt originally. 

Feeling as if he is standing alone in a room filled with people, the Time Lords' only stream of conscious thought is on you, how you thought yourself to be forgettable and just how wrong you were. He scouted various dimensions and galaxies, practically ripping time itself apart in an effort to find you after he was done fighting off the remaining Daleks. 

A shiver runs down his spine at the memory of standing in his TARDIS empty handed and alone as it too remained silent, the pure agony he felt before the rage that followed when not even the screams of his most wicked enemies could calm his soul. He was vengeful for so long, 700 years of healing to only form a scab as he searched for parts of you in others. The Doctor shakes his head at these thoughts, too painful to bear in the company of others. 

“You know Donna… I’ve always had the worst luck in a black suit,” the Doctor tries to joke and distract himself yet receives no reply as Donna’s mind is sent reeling with all the new information she just bore witness to, the dresses, the stars, everything, she thinks to herself whilst peering up at the Doctor. Who are you? Who are you, truly, to have such an impact on such a man… the Lord of Time himself… Yet just before she can ask any further questions, a sliver of the vengeful doctor slips out. 

Wallace shuffles on his feet awkwardly, feeling a bit embarrassed by the situation as the over six-foot alien glares down at him, “I’ve killed more people then there are current stars in your galaxy and even if you did manage to get to her… you wouldn’t stand a chance for very long… you wouldn’t even feel it happen.” 

“DOCTOR!” Donna breaks their disguise, pure unabashed shock and horror evident in her reaction to the Time Lords threat. 

“It's true,” the Doctor adjusts his suit with a shrug, drinking in the horrified human's face with satisfaction before swiftly turning on his feet and returning back to the TARDIS with Donna in tow. 

“I can’t believe you would say such a terrible thing to that poor man, Doctor. That really was not right,” Donna tisks disapprovingly while starting to take off her jewelry and gloves into a pile. 

The Time Lord rips off his suit jacket as if it burned him, tie following suit as he unbuttons the top of his shirt with a sigh of relief. “You know what’s not right, Donna?” the Doctor rhetorically asks, hands starting to float across the console like he had done a thousand times before. 

“Is that without her, I would gladly watch this universe and every other universe burn and take myself away with it but… I don’t… So call me greedy, a bad man, pathetic, a villain, what have you, I simply don’t care anymore!- and that should scare everyone,” the Doctor smiles yet it does not quite reach his hollow eyes, that childlike enthusiasm seemingly lost. Donna knows that look all too well, she’s seen it across her own face and in the faces of others but on the Doctors… it just didn’t look quite right. 

Donna turns, grabbing her pile of belongings and heads to her room without another word. The Doctor cracks his neck before leaning down and tinkering underneath the console in order to distract his mind. Donna takes note of the small tremors in his hand before closing her door to the hall and leans against the door. I’ll find you, whoever you are, Donna commands the space in front of her with determined eyes as if she could will you to be in front of her, I’ll find you… and then shove you both in a closet together, she laughs to herself at the thought… Now just how do I find a Time Lord?

─────── · · 

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FIVE

─ · · A/N: God its gonna be so hot when they kiss... wait.. who said that?

─ · · FOR ALL TIME TAGLIST: @posionapple24 @azriel64290 @smallerontheoutside @soniiyi @spirit-of-the-hollow @f0x33 @blackoutdays13 @dlljdhsh @staygoldsquatchling02

[queereads-bracket]

Queer Fiction Free-for-All Book Bracket Tournament: Round 3

Book summaries and submitted endorsements below:

Moby-Dick or, The Whale by Herman Melville

Endorsement from submitter:

Ishmael & Quee(r)queg do it better than your OTP ever could. "[W]hat's all this fuss I have been making about, thought I to myself—the man's a human being just as I am: he has just as much reason to fear me as I have to be afraid of him. Better sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian" “ How it is I know not; but there is no place like a bed for confidential disclosures between friends. Man and wife, they say, there open the very bottom of their souls to each other; and some old couples often lie and chat over old times till nearly morning. Thus, then, in our hearts’ honeymoon, lay I and Queequeg—a cosy, loving pair.” “ At length, by dint of much wriggling, and loud and incessant expostulations upon the unbecomingness of his hugging a fellow male in that matrimonial sort of style, I succeeded in extracting a grunt; and presently, he drew back his arm, shook himself all over like a Newfoundland dog just from the water, and sat up in bed, stiff as a pike-staff, looking at me, and rubbing his eyes as if he did not altogether remember how I came to be there, though a dim consciousness of knowing something about me seemed slowly dawning over him. Meanwhile, I lay quietly eyeing him, having no serious misgivings now, and bent upon narrowly observing so curious a creature.” “ I drew my bench near him, and made some friendly signs and hints, doing my best to talk with him meanwhile. At first he little noticed these advances; but presently, upon my referring to his last night’s hospitalities, he made out to ask me whether we were again to be bedfellows. I told him yes; whereat I thought he looked pleased, perhaps a little complimented.” Plus, the entirety of “A Squeeze of the Hand” Insane work.

"It is the horrible texture of a fabric that should be woven of ships' cables and hawsers. A Polar wind blows through it, and birds of prey hover over it."

So Melville wrote of his masterpiece, one of the greatest works of imagination in literary history. In part, Moby-Dick is the story of an eerily compelling madman pursuing an unholy war against a creature as vast and dangerous and unknowable as the sea itself. But more than just a novel of adventure, more than an encyclopaedia of whaling lore and legend, the book can be seen as part of its author's lifelong meditation on America. Written with wonderfully redemptive humour, Moby-Dick is also a profound inquiry into character, faith, and the nature of perception.

Classics, American literature, nautical fiction, adult

Wayward Children series (Every Heart a Doorway, Down Among the Sticks and Bones, Beneath the Sugar Sky, In an Absent Dream, Come Tumbling Down, Across the Green Grass Fields, Where the Drowned Girls Go, Lost in the Moment and Found, Mislaid in Parts Half-Known, Adrift in Currents Clean and Clear, and other stories) by Seanan McGuire

Eleanor West’s Home for Wayward Children No Solicitations No Visitors No Guests

Children have always disappeared under the right conditions; slipping through the shadows under a bed or at the back of a wardrobe, tumbling down rabbit holes and into old wells, and emerging somewhere... else.

But magical lands have little need for used-up miracle children.

Nancy tumbled once, but now she’s back. The things she’s experienced... they change a person. The children under Miss West’s care understand all too well. And each of them is seeking a way back to their own fantasy world.

But Nancy’s arrival marks a change at the Home. There’s a darkness just around each corner, and when tragedy strikes, it’s up to Nancy and her new-found schoolmates to get to the heart of the matter.

No matter the cost.

Fantasy, portal fantasy, mystery, magical realism, boarding school, novella, series, adult

[theitgirlnetwork]

Earn it

Ch. 1: You Boys Really Like to Play Doubles

Note: Okayyy another one in the lineup. Now that I'm back in my account I think I am going to make an update schedule. I hope you all enjoy this new series along with the others and let me know what you think. This first chapter is mostly backstory building but this story is my chance to be messy lol. It will have spoilers for challengers, but also a lot of things are changed. Please feel free to interact and give feedback (constructively) it inspires me to hear from you all. This obsession came fast so I feel like I already have so many ideas for these characters. This one is short because I was dipping my toe in but they will get longer! The aesthetic board for this story will be on the masterlist in a couple hours! Thank you and enjoy!

Tashi Duncan is an athlete. Hell, she’s the athlete. Of their arena. Of their time. She’s good. Great. Passionate. Beautiful…in the words of Art.

Sexy as shit in the words of Patrick and just about every other man who managed to lay eyes on her. She’s something to marvel at. And they did. Marvel. Art and Patrick stand there, jaws slack, eyes locked on the girl as she moves about the dancefloor absently. It’s like the opposite of how she moves on the court. There she’s a predator. Moving quickly, calculated, with strength. Here she’s graceful, eyes closed and enjoying the motions.

It’s their chance. A chance to meet her. To flirt with her. Con her out of her number when she wanders away from the group of women she’s dancing with over to the couches to retrieve her drink. It’d be easier to talk to her alone. They do their best work in a double, and as far as they knew, she had no partner. As far as they knew. 

And they’re basking in her attention. Taking turns in a whole new match. When one gets the gift of her gaze the other’s smile drops like a puppy waiting for its turn to be played with, her easy smirk resting comfortably on her face the whole time. Until she comes.

“Made some friends?”

The two of them can’t help but have the same thought. Art was admittedly more ashamed to have it but they both had it. There’s two of them.

“These guys are in the tournament. They play tomorrow.” Tashi smiles, holding her hand out to the girl and helping her step over the table so she can sit down next to her. Both men offer her their own hand to help her the rest of the way but she simply squeezes Tashi’s harder. 

Patrick and Art don’t know where to look. Before the girl’s arrival Tashi was the only person worthy of admiration here. She’s stunning, abnormally beautiful. But so was her friend. She had a darker complexion, with full lips coupled with a pretty smile. She tosses her silky dark hair over her shoulder, exposing more shiny skin. Her pink, strapless dress compliments Tashi’s royal blue one so much that even two men with no knowledge of women’s fashion would guess the choice was purposeful. They exchange looks as the women cross their legs in sync, Tashi handing her half-drunk beverage to her friend who rolls her eyes with a small as the boys’ eyes drop to her mouth. “Are they any good?”

Tashi hums thoughtfully, tilting her head lightly as if she needed to observe them to determine that. “From what I hear? Sometimes.”

“Not good like you though.”

That takes them aback for a moment. I mean, Tashi just won a tournament, she’s proven herself enough to pass judgment, all this girl has proven to them is that she’s hot. Who’s she to decide that they weren’t in the same league as Tashi. They weren’t, but who was she?

“You, uh, know that just from looking at us?” Art asks, finding himself sitting straighter at the scrutiny, the unimpressed looks on the two girls' faces getting to him as he wonders what it would take to change them.

All the girl offers is a shrug and a small smile around the straw, earning her a giggle from Tashi. 

“You know, we didn’t get a chance to see your match. What’s your name again?” Partick’s brows furrow as he glances between his friend and the two women. 

The smile drops from her face and her lips curve into a frown, cheek dimpling in a way that almost has the men forgetting she’d insulted them. “Wow.” she scoffs.

“You’ve got balls. You came to my party to talk shit to my best friend?”

That has them scrambling, stuttered half apologies from Art and sarcastic denials from Patrick. Anything they could blurt out to convince Tashi and her mystery friend to stay. All of it interrupted by their burst of giggles. 

“We’re just fucking with you.” The girl leans her head back against the cushion, puffing out laughter that makes Art’s head feel like it’s swimming. He blinks at the feeling and takes his own deep breath. “I’m Heaven, I’m nobody, I don’t play tennis.”

“Nobody? You don’t seem like nobody.” He doesn’t even recognize his own voice when he says it. 

“Nobody is nobody.” Patrick cuts in.

Tashi gives the girl a disapproving look that would put ice in the mens’ veins, pursing her lips in agitation briefly before turning back to the guys in front of them. “She’s Heaven Whitlock, she’s my best friend, and the best fuckin’ ballerina in the world.” 

Heaven lifts and drops her shoulder noncommittally, taking a deep sip of the drink. “Yeah. I’m the best fuckin’ ballerina in the world.”

The girls left soon after that so that Tashi could take pictures and once they were done, they were pleased to discover that the boys had waited to hang out with them more. The group made their way down to the beach and found themselves talking about all sorts of things. Life, Tashi’s earlier match, tennis as a spirituality. They were shocked to learn that Heaven knew a lot about the sport and could even play a little. But based on how they described it, she only knew enough to help Tashi train. 

Patrick felt aggravated and outnumbered by the fact that all three of the others were going to college. 

“Okay, so she doesn’t want her only skill to be hitting a ball with a racket. What the hell are you going to school for Miss Ballerina?”

“Train. I can get better.” Heaven shrugs. “Get my name out there too, before I join a company I mean.” 

“Can we see something?” Art blurts from his seat, shaking out the ash from his cigarette. “Like your favorite trick or-”

Heaven’s face lights up slightly. Her back has been straight up all night, her shoulders rolled back with poise, but she perks up in excitement at the thought of the opportunity to dance. “I like doing Fouette turns-”

“Heaven, in sand?” Tashi whips her head to look at her friend. “You don’t even have your shoes. You have your first audition for your school’s fall show when we get back don’t you?”

Heaven rolls her glossed lips inward, nodding, eyes dropping to the sand briefly before they return to the men in front of her. “Maybe another time.”

“Another time. There’s gonna be another time?” Patrick leans back in his seat, looking between the two women smugly. “Does that mean I’m gonna hear from you two again?”

“I’ll see Art at Stanford. Heaven will visit.” 

“He’s asking for your numbers.” Art offers. “So am I.”

Heaven’s brows furrow as she stands dusting sand off her hands before she helps pull Tashi to her feet. “Both of you?”

“Yep.”

“Want both of our numbers?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Oh, you boys really like to play doubles, huh?” She’s met with cheeky smiles and a shrug from Tashi. “Well, I have a boyfriend, so…” she grins, gesturing to Tashi. “May the best one win boys.”

The boys crane their necks briefly to follow Heaven’s walk up the hill, her sandals in hand, watching as she turns expectantly, holding out her other hand for Tashi to come up and take. They barely get out their offer for Tashi to come to their room later before she’s making her way up the hill. Her long legs carry her to her friend, whose hand she takes before swinging their arms back and forth, singing along together to whatever song is playing in the distance together.

As soon as they’re out of sight Patrick whips his head to face Art, a wild smirk on his face. 

“Which one do you want?”

“So…which one’s your favorite?” 

“Patrick’s got more natural talent, that’s for sure, but he’s stubborn, doesn’t wanna learn anything new. Art- what?” Tashi tilts her head at her friend’s scoff, moving to sit next to her at the small desk chair, watching as her friend rubs lotion into her face. “What?”

“Nothing, T, tell me about Art.” Heaven laughs, shaking her head. Tennis. Always about tennis. Poor boys. 

“Art wants it more right now. And he’s good. Could be great." She stands walking over to the closet and tugging on her jacket. “You set your alarm?”

“4:30, T. Gotta get our run in and practice for my audition before the tournaments start.” 

“Mm, good girl.” she smiles, dropping a kiss onto the top of Heaven’s head. “I’ll have my key.”

“You’re really going? You’re gonna go to their room?” Heaven turns in the seat and watches Tashi put on her shoes. The brunette pauses to look at her friend, walking over and crouching in front of her. Her hands rest on Heaven’s legs as she looks up at her.

“You jealous?”

“Want me to be?” Heaven asks, leaning her forehead against Tashi’s with a defiant look on her face. “I know you’re not gonna fuck them.”

“Really?” Tashi hums absently. “We’ll see. I’ll be back later. Why don’t you call Trevor while you have the room to yourself.”

With that she pats Heaven’s legs, pushing off of the floor and leaving her alone in the hotel room. 

Heaven takes her best friend’s advice. She calls her boyfriend. It was a mistake.

Trevor hates Tashi. He hates tennis. He hates dance. He hates everything. 

He didn’t use to. He used to think the girl’s dedication was cool. He used to love to come to showcases, recitals, even some of Tashi’s tournaments. But then he realized his place in everything. His place in Heaven’s life. Dance and Tashi, those two things would always come before him.

That’s the hard lesson everyone always had to learn. Tashi was always gonna win when it came to tennis and Heaven. Tashi was Heaven’s first…period. First best friend, first kiss, they’d taken each other’s virginities. They met in middle school. Heaven had been at the community center gym with her mother, running and doing weight training while her mom took a zumba class. Out on the court was Tashi. Beautiful and focused as ever. Heaven chose a treadmill that she could watch Tashi practice out the window from. She’d been startled when the taller girl came into the building and stood next to her machine and asked her if she knew anything about tennis and if she wanted to play. 

She wasn’t good. Tashi was determined to make her good enough to play with. Soon enough they were inseparable. Heaven would sit in the stands at Tashi’s games, yelling as loud as the girl playing when she won. Tashi would go to see Heaven dance, offering her applause when she won awards or starred in a show. Having Tashi was intense, but Heaven was intense too, in her own right. They were both passionate about their crafts, and loved the art of working hard. They liked making each other proud. 

Tashi was Heaven’s first everything except her first love. That was dance. Her muscles stretching into beautiful motions. Using her body to tell all kinds of stories. Becoming someone else entirely over the course of a song. Heaven would die if she couldn’t dance. 

She doesn’t feel like that about Trevor. He was a sweet guy, and she liked him. Despite Tashi’s constant digs that he wasn’t good enough or amounting to anything, Heaven liked him. Not everything has to be an intense feeling. Content can be good enough. I can be satisfied with content. 

But Trevor wished she would be normal. He wished she wasn’t so close to Tashi. He wished she wasn’t constantly working at something. At least that’s what he said when he dumped her over the phone. 

“Trev-Trevor. Trevor are you fucking serious?” 

Dial tone. 

Heaven’s lip curls up in frustration as she feels her eyes watering. She throws her phone against the wall, hearing the distinct crack of the screen. “Fuck. Fucking shit.” She…needs Tashi.

Pulling a baggy t-shirt over her sport’s bra and underwear she goes to the bathroom and rids herself of any evidence that she’d been crying before she heads to the room Tashi told her she’d be in. She creeps past her friend’s dad’s door so she doesn’t wake him and alert him that neither she nor Tashi were in bed. As she gets off the elevator on the boys’ floor she straightens as she goes to knock on the door, hearing the faint sounds of lips smacking and moaning. 

That makes her feel worse then she did when Trevor told her she wasn’t worth the hassle.

Heaven turns on her heel and goes back to the elevator. Her bare feet pad on the rug of the hotel hallway as she wraps her arms around herself until she gets back to her door. 

She ties her scarf around her hair before climbing into the bed the girls had been sharing, facing the window. The blinds rattle as the wind blows and the quiet tears on Heaven’s face are dry by the time Tashi slips into the room and into the bed behind Heaven. 

The bed dips slightly under her weight and suddenly hands are planted onto Heaven’s side. “Hev, I’m back…I had fun. Come on, I know you’re awake.”

“Cool.”

“I hooked up with them.”

Heaven turns then, laying on her back as Tashi leans over her, her hair making a curtain around her. “Which one?”

“Hmm…both. We didn’t have sex or anything but…I made out with both of them…and then they made out with each other. S’fun.” Tashi grins, flopping on her back next to her friend.

“They…ever done that before?”

“Nope” she smiles, popping the ‘p’ loudly. Both girls burst out into laughter as they think about the difference between their friendship and the two boys they met, so similar yet so different.

“You’re evil. You fucking homewrecker.”

“Ahh, they’ll be alright. It’ll be a good fuckin’ match tomorrow…winner gets my number.” 

Oh. 

“Trevor dumped me today.” 

Tashi turns on her side at that. Her ever-inspecting eyes scan Heaven’s face before narrowing a little. “No bullshit? Good fucking riddance. Should’ve dumped him when I told you to. Damn, would’ve been an even better match if I knew that earlier. Imagine how they’d play if the stakes were the winner gets both of us at the same time.” She laughs, putting her legs under the blankets. “It’d be fucking funny.”

“Yeah, T. Fucking hilarious.”

Tashi is at the courts by 5 am the next morning, and Heaven is running on the beach. She normally loves training with here friend, but right now, she needs a fucking break. Being drilled about the audition or talking about this deathmatch for Tashi’s phone number doesn’t feel like something she wants to do right now.

Still, her and Tashi’s workout playlist blasts in her ears as she fights the sand’s resistance, panting out breaths to Lose My Breath by Destiny’s Child. That is until she sees something moving out of the corner of her eye. 

It’s the blond one. She wasn’t sure which one’s name was which, but to her, the blond one was the cuter one. She liked his smile and he looked like he had a nice body under his baggy shirt yesterday. His tight athletic tank today shows her she’s right. Popping an earbud out, Heaven slows to jogging in place, offering him a smile. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, you’re up early, aren’t you?”

“Might not play tennis, but I’m still an athlete. I get up at 4:30 everyday. Clearly you do too.”

“Uh,” he adjusts his cap on his unruly blond hair before covering it back up, matching pace with her in her jog. “Not really, but the match is in a couple hours and I gotta explain to my family how to watch it. There’s a lot of them. And Patrick snores.”

“I see. Well, you’re gonna have to get used to it if you’re gonna get with Tashi.” His mouth opens and closes at that, like he’s shocked she knows he’s interested in her friend. “She told me about the stakes for today…and the other stuff.” 

He falters in his step at that, placing his hands on his hips as he laughs in disbelief, before pulling her shirt over his mouth for a second to hide his face, ears red. “You guys share everything, huh?”

“Apparently you do too.” Heaven laughs, pausing in her jog to stretch her leg when she feels tightness in it, bending over to work the muscles. If her eyes hadn’t slipped closed she would see Art’s eyes dart to her backside before looking away in an attempt to be respectful. He absently thinks that Patrick is right. Hot girls usually are friends with other hot girls. “But I’m rooting for you…uh…?”

“Oh, Art. I’m Art.” he breathes, willing his eyes not to slip again.

“Short for Arthur?”

“Um, yeah, but nobody calls me that. Except my grandma when I’m in trouble.” He blushes. Heaven straightens, and offers him a pretty smile.

“If one of you is gonna be seeing Tashi, I need to know your full name. I’m sure you can carry the speech to the other one too. If you hurt her, you die, I’ll kill you little white boy, you get it right?” 

“Right.” he hums, rocking on his feet. “So, you guys are close huh? She talked about you a lot last night. Fucking hates your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, well, she won’t have to worry about him anymore. Done. As of last night actually. Tashi was saying she wishes would’ve known that before your little bargain. Then, it would be both her and my number on the line. What can you do?” Heaven shrugs absently. She was flirting a little. Sue her. She’d just been dumped and was finally free to start having fun. All summer she’d been traveling with Tashi, being a good little doting girlfriend, turning down every hot guy she met. Only ever having one slip up, with Tashi. She knew they both were into her friend, she didn’t expect anything-

“So raise the stakes.” 

Heaven’s eyes widen as Art looks at her earnestly, looking embarrassed by his own words. “What?” she laughs.

“You can…definitely tell me to fuck off…but…we would be interested in having your number added to the…pot? Fuck, that sounds awful, Patrick and I want your number too. I want your number too. If that’s okay.”

“And you wanna play for it?”

“Those are the rules right?” 

Heaven observes the man in front of her. Boyish. Cute. And nervous. He doesn’t know how hot he is. Not like his friend. Not like Tashi. He doesn’t know what he looks like. And he seems sweet enough, nervous to offend them, but determined enough to push past the embarrassment to get what he wants. “Tashi’s rules. Not mine. Do you guys want to play for my number?”

His jaw sets slightly as he looks her up and down. “I wanna earn it.” 

“Okay, winner gets Tashi’s number. And mine.” 

[anachronismstellar]

SQH x Original Goods SQQ ;>

ooooooh wait, WAIT I have to think this one

Let's all pretend is not 4 am shhhh

I feel like OG SQQ would be attracted by SQH competence, like a game of cat and mouse or or OH WAIT I KNOW

------

The black and white pieces were carefully organized over the wooden board, the game paused as both peak lords took their time to consider the possible strategies. Shen Qingqiu had been the last one to make a move, capturing one of Shang Qinghua's stones, turning it between his fingers as he took the opportunity to observe the An Ding Peak Lord.

He didn't know how they ended up in this situation. If someone asked Shen Qingqiu when he had started observing Shang Qinghua, he had no exact answer. He knew it hadn’t been during their Head Disciple days, then Shang Qinghua had blended so completely against the wall of yellow robes that Shen Qingqiu could barely remember him during his missions. His best bet would be one of the first meetings as peak lords, Yue Qingyuan still trying to organize twelve egotistical cultivators as each of them tried to grab more missions and more resources for their own peak.

Hah, he would have more luck shoving twelve cats in a bag.

But then, the An Ding Peak Lord stood up, slamming a pile of papers so high it had been a miracle it didn’t fall all over their table.

"May I speak, Zhangmen-Shixiong?" Shang Qinghua had asked after a short but respectful bow, flipping his sleeves in a circular motion to wrap them around his arms in a graceful movement. The he proceeded to metaphorically and literally grab all of them by the scruff of their necks, organizing their speaking order, cutting their speeches short with a no nonsense "Thank you" every time they spoke beyond their scheduled time.

"We can stop here for today," Yue Qingyuan said with his brows slightly up, not able to hide his surprise when they finished things before dinner time. "Thank you, Shang-Shidi, for your help."

"Of course, Zhangmen-Shixiong," Shang Qinghua answered, but Shen Qingqiu could see his mind was already somewhere else, rushing to get to the door before anyone else.

Since then he couldn't help but keep an eye on yellow robes passing by, eager to hold the other for a conversation, to pick on his brain.

He blinked, coming back to his bamboo house by the soft sound of rustling silk and jade against wood as Shang Qinghua made his move, holding back a frown.

"Either play properly or leave," Shen Qingqiu said as he took another white stone from the board, putting it a bit too forcefully on his little pile on the table.

"Ah sorry, sorry, Shen-Shixiong, I'm having issues with a special ink shipment, and then Mu-shidi asked for a flower that I know he knows it only grows during winter and it's summer-"

"Stop blabling," he sighed as he looked up, glaring at his ceiling to pray to Heavens for patience. Last time he had lost his temper with Shang-shidi the man had vanished for weeks, leaving Shen Qingqiu without a decent Go player and a bad taste on his mouth. "I have no patience for your mental games today."

And as if by magic the man in front of him transformed, the suck up smile sliding from his face as Shang Qinghua straightened up his posture, the small man growing twice his size as broad shoulders filled his robes properly. "This one apologizes for testing Shen-Shixiong's patience," Then Shang Qinghua slowly twisted his head to the side, cracking his neck followed by a sigh. "I had to spend the morning dealing with Zhangmen-Shixiong, and you know how it is."

Shen Qingqiu let a bitter chuckle escape, sliding his fan open to hide half of his face, knowing full well how good his eyes looked over the painted paper.

"What? Sucking his dick isn't solving the problem?"

The effect was immediate. Shang Qinghua that had decided to take a sip of his tea almost chocked on it, gasping for air for a good minute, face so red one could think he had never written porn in his life.

Oh yes, Shen Qingqiu knew about his little stories too. Shang Qinghua wasn't the only one with spies all over the mountains.

"I- We- It's not-"

"Oh, spare me," Shen Qingqiu scoffed, lazily fanning himself, as he gave one last glance at the board, mourning their forgotten game. Shame, it was so difficult for them to meet up for a match. Of course Yue Qingyuan had to spoil even this for him. "You might be able to lie to those buffoons Wei Qingwei and Liu Qingge, but I have two perfectly functioning eyes. Also, there are so many late night meetings one must attend before it gets excessive."

It was good to see that red suited Shang Qinghua just as much as yellow. And Shen Qingqiu had to use all his will to not laugh as the other peak lord did his best to recompose himself, all in vain.

"My real question is... And I know I will regret the answer," Shen Qinggiu raised his hand to stop the new barrel of excuses so he could finish speaking. "How ih the all realms did that start. Did he offered you a holiday of some kind? Or maybe he wanted to thank you for dealing with Liu Qingge last stunt, Heavens knows you deserve a raise for that."

Again, Shen Qingqiu wasn't expecting a real answer. In fact, he wasn't expecting an answer at all, the way Shang Qinghua was blushing, the An Ding peak lord was about to faint or run away before Shen Qinggiu could snap his fan closed.

What he did get, however, was a muffled string of words, followed by a groan and a whine. Peharps he had hit the mark with one of his hypothesis? Now, things have gotten even more interesting.

"Speak plainly, Shidi, you know I can't stand mumbling."

"He complimented my hands!" Shang Qinghua squaked, his voice so high it had scared the poor birds on the garden.

There was a beat of silence as Shen Qingqiu waited for the rest of the explanation, barking a laugh when nothing came.

"That's it? Is it that easy to make you open your legs?"

"Oh shut up, Shixiong, you say that as if you wouldn't do it too!"

That, was crossing a line.

Shen Qingqiu never had to explain himself or his hatred for Yue Qingyuan to the other peak lord, it was if Shang Qinghua knew somehow that they shared a past. That was another thing that drove them together, the fact that Shang Qinghua was able to keep his mouth shut, even when he could use it for his own gain.

"Shixiong, I'm so sorry I-"

"Do tell," he interrupted what was for sure about to be an emotional moment for both of them, lips pressed thin in a frown, making sure to send his best murder glare to the man in front of him. "What compliment did our steemed Zhangmen-Shixiong could have used to conquer the slippery An Ding Peak Lord?"

He could see Shang Qinghua's brain working a way to escape the situation, his eyes darting left and right, checking all the exists of the small house. He could also see the moment Shang Qinghua had resigned himself to his fate, shrugging and waving his hands, buying himself time before answering:

"He said I had nimble fingers? And then I panicked and asked if he wanted to see how nimble they were or something, I don't remember and then, well, we, uh-"

"Well?"

"W-Well what?"

"How nimble they are?"

It finally clicked, Shang Qinghua's face going from embarassed to surprised, then interessed as he made a point of putting both hands on the table, slowly tapping his fingers on the top of it, the little tease.

"Would Shen-Shinxiong like to find out for himself?"

Shen Qingqiu felt his mouth drying as a shiver went up his spine. He wanted to scream at himself, to throw Shang Qinghua out of his house and hit him with the Go board on his way out, just out of spite.

On the other hand, he couldn't deny that Shang Qinghua was a handsome man when he put on some effort. Specially when he was commanding a room of peak lords, giving orders left and right, so sure of his information and knowledge that they had no other choice but follow.

How would that be...

"Follow me, Shidi," he got up in a measured movement, holding back his excitement as he guided them towards his room. Time to see if not only what those fingers could do, but also to put that smart mouth for better use than fumbling excuses.

And just as he had done many times before, Shang Qinghua surprised him once again, making Shen Qingqiu scare the birds with an entirely other type of screams.

------

This got,,,, Insanely long holy shit.

Also, it's kinda a continuation of the SQH/YQY ask?? dshiufhdsuifhui

I hope you liked!!! Thank you for the ask it was a blast to write it!!! :DDDD

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Human Optimism

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

“I will be direct with you; I was against your coming here.”

Yafin had not expected such a direct response from the head doctor and was momentarily silenced as they continued.

“When I first read your request to interview one of our oldest patients I saw it for what it really was; a puff piece meant to make a name for yourself with no regard for the patient.”

 “Now that’s not-“ Yafin began before the head doctor cut him off.

“But you wouldn’t take no for an answer and decided to go over my head to the hospital board and pitch it which is the only reason you are sitting here today.”

“Dr. Timlock, I want to assure you your fears are unfounded.” Yafin began but he saw from Timlock’s expression he would make no headway there. “Yet as you mentioned the board liked my story pitch and so regardless of what you may feel this interview is ongoing.”

“Furthermore,” he added for extra spite, “your patient even agreed to the interview and so your say in the matter has lost relevancy.”

The room was silent as the doctor fixed him with the coldest glare he had ever seen. A chill ran up his spine and he felt the room suddenly become ten degrees colder as the doctor stood up from behind her desk and walked around to him.

“Listen here you little sha’rav,” Timlock spoke through gritted fangs, “you may have gotten this sham of an interview but I am still the head doctor of this facility. If I see your questions making the patient uncomfortable or their heart rate jump even by the slightest of margins I will end it right there and then and have your legs broken.”

“That wouldn’t kill me.” Yafin chuckled.

“I know,” the doctor countered with a devilish grin, “just enough to put you into the hospital. MY, hospital; where I will make sure you don’t leave for a long, long time. Do you understand me?”

Yafin’s amused expression quickly fell away as he nodded in silence.

 “Good.” She finished and began walking to the door. “Let’s go meet your subject.” ------------------

Wayfare Station was the most advanced medical facility this side of the quadrant. It operated as a massive two tier medical institution. The first tier comprised of nearly a hundred levels capable of caring for over three hundred different species and the specific environments of their homeworlds to maximize treatment and care, while the second tier comprised of an equal number of levels dedicated to the most advanced form of medical research and testing facilities for cutting edge treatments.

Dr. Timlock was the head doctor and as such maintained a constant stream of data being sent from both tiers of her hospital. Any other doctor would have been overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information but Dr. Timlock was a Vikarian which meant her advanced neural pathways were more than capable of consuming the information and responding in short order. Everything from material request forms to latest emergency admissions she was kept apprised of.

Yafin strode after the doctor as she led them to the research tier of the facility where his interview subject was being kept for observation. It was easy to tell the transition between the two as the hallways slowly began to thin out in crowds of patients only to be replaced by an ever increasing amount of security checkpoints.

“Is this level of security necessary?” Yafin asked as they cleared the sixth checkpoint in the last thirty minutes.

Dr. Timlock let out a snort of amusement but didn’t bother to turn and address him directly as they continued walking.

“What we do here is ground breaking medical research for the betterment of the universe,” she said as they cleared yet another checkpoint that included viral gene scanning, “there isn’t a day going by that we don’t have some form of corporate espionage agent trying to break and steal that research for monetary gains.”

As if to emphasize the point Yafin cleared the next checkpoint and was greeted with the sight of a technician sprinting down the corridor with a jar of some kind before being tackled by three security personnel.

“Doctor.” One of them nodded as Timlock approached. They tilted their head in the direction of the technician being hoisted up, their hands now in iron cuffs. “Caught this one trying to steal the latest batch of treatments for bay 17.”

 Timlock looked over the spy and scoffed. “Couldn’t even wait for a shift change I see; amateurs.”

She turned her attention back to the security guard. “Excellent work as always; have them handed over to authorities and ask for max sentence to be applied.”

The guard nodded and hauled the spy away as Yafin watched; his fingers rapidly typing out what had happened on his digipad.

“What makes you think the authorities would take your recommendation into account for punishment?” Yafin asked as the pair resumed their pace.

Timlock shrugged as if the matter was now little more than an annoyance. “When you hold the lives of many an injured officer in your hands and bring them back form the cold grasp of death they tend to be generous with gratitude.”

Yafin would have liked to press this line of questioning more when the doctor suddenly stopped outside of a pair of thick green plated doors.

“Bay 233,” Dr. Timlock spoke as she swiped her security badge along the access panel, “they’re expecting you.”

The sound of thick metal bolts withdrawing drew Yafin’s attention and the thick metal doors slowly retracted into the doorway revealing a dark interior lit only by several small floor lights inlaid into the walls.

Yafin made to step forward but felt a tight hand grab his shoulder. He looked to see the Doctor fixing him with her cold gaze once more.

“Remember what I said.” she spoke.

Yafin gulped loudly and nodded. With the understanding achieved the doctor removed her grip and allowed Yafin to enter the room. She stepped in after him and the thick metal doors slowly returned to place sealing the room off with a loud thud that made Yafin jump.

“Security measure.” Timlock replied with a trace of amusement. “Nothing can get out of this room that could endanger the facility.”

Before Yafin could ask what they meant by that the floor opposite the doorway suddenly creaked and a large portion of it suddenly sunk into the floor. It peeled away effortlessly as a large cylinder like object began to slowly emerge from the ground.

“Suspended animation?” Yafin asked as he recognized the device as it continued to rise. Dr. Timlock shook her head.

“The treatment side effect made it so long term suspension was untenable. The tube itself serves as a convenient housing apparatus for the time being.”

The cylinder jerked to a stop as it ceased rising and the floor tiles closed back around it. Yafin approached the tube and with the sleeve of his arm wiped away a portion of the built up frost on the side to get a better look at the occupant inside. As he wiped it away a pair of cold green eyes were watching him from beneath the frost and Yafin let out a yelp of surprise before stumbling backwards.  

“May I introduce you to Mr. Morris Findel.” Dr. Timlock spoke up as she held on to her amused smile. “The longest patient held within our hallowed walls by four years.”

“Three years……362 days…to be….exact.”

Yafin looked around for the voice only to see it coming from a voice module built into the side of the tube. Timlock looked unphased by the correction and took a seat along the wall.

“On our world we don’t have 365 days.” She corrected Mr. Findel.

“I’m….human….” the voice continued with robotic overtones, “Of course….I count….by human….days.”

Yafin straightened himself up and finally got a better look at the subject of his interview and wished he hadn’t.

For a moment he thought the tank’s healing fluids had been corrupted as he could barely see Mr. Findel’s face. Yet upon closer inspection Yafin saw that the black fluid swirling around him was not the mistake of a cleaning system, but in fact swarms of machines clumped together into black masses. He was seemingly naked save for the long breathing tube that descended from the top of the tank and connected to his mouth, but the black swarms made it difficult to tell.  

“It’s…rude…to stare.”

Yafin’s observations were broken as the Mr. Findel was now looking directly at him.

“My apologies.” Yafin quickly replied. To his surprise the voice module chimed with robotic laughter.

“Just….pulling…your…chain.”

Yafin was confused by the dialogue and turned to Dr. Timlock to ask if the machine was broken. “It’s a human saying.” Was all she replied before allowing him to turn back around.

“Thank you for meeting with me today.” Yafin began. “I know it must be difficult with your current condition.”

“Oh?” Mr. Findel inquired. “And what….condition…is that?”

Yafin had not expected this question. His mouth opened and closed several times as he tried to find the words without sounding offensive.

“Well…..with missing all your limbs.” He finally stammered out.

To his surprise Mr. Findel’s expression adopted one of confusion.

“What….do…you mean?” he asked. “My limbs…..are right-“

Through the black mass Mr. Findel lifted what had once been his left arm only to find it severed at the elbow; his eyes growing wide in shock.

“What…is…..where….is my…arm!?”

Voice modules were notorious for lacking ability to convey emotion but Mr. Findel’s body motions were becoming frantic as he moved his body to check his other limbs and see them through the black goop of machines.

His right arm was completely gone from the shoulder, his right leg ending at the knee and his left leg only having the ball joint in his torso.

“Oh….god….” the machine began to repeat over and over as the human thrashed around in his tube.

“What did I tell you!?” Dr. Timlock’s voice shouted from behind a stupefied Yafin.

“I didn’t mean-“ Yafin began before he heard the door open once more and a pair of security guards entered.

“Get him out of my sight at once!” Timlock shouted as she ran over to the tube and began entering in several keys in rapid succession. Red warning lights descended from the ceiling as the reporter was whisked away, his last glimpse of his would be interviewee being of one of sheer panic and fear before the doors closed shut on the patient and his career. ------------------

“You….think…he…bought it?”

“Oh you really got him good with that one.”

Dr. Timlock grinned from ear to ear as the door closed behind her and the warning lights suddenly turned off. The room was quiet once more with just her and her patient alone to converse.

“I’ve…been…working on…my acting.” Mr. Findel said with an apparent grin beneath his breathing tube.

“Don’t oversell yourself.” The doctor countered as she pulled up the chair from the wall and sat down in front of Mr. Findel’s tube. “You’re no Danika Wade.”

“Everyone…is…critic.” Mr. Findel replied as he let himself be swirled around in the tube by the tiny machines.

Timlock watched this and the amusement of their prank began to fade away as old memories resurfaced.

She remembered the night Mr. Findel was rushed into her hospital. He was an engineer at the time who had been standing inside the engine room of his ship when a grade 3 explosion was triggered by a faulty power coupling. It blew him to pieces and the ship had barely limped to the hospital station before it suffered catastrophic failure and detonated as the patients were being offloaded.

Findel was projected to be die from his wounds within the hour and her lead at the time told her to move on to other patients that could be saved. Timlock had disagreed at the time and had chosen to do something drastic.

Rushing into one of the research wings, she came back with an experimental vial of nano-machines that were designed to repair even the most serious injuries. Her lead protested the usage of the experimental treatment but Timlock had administrated it anyway.

She’d watched as the machines began to repair the wounds, but all took quickly did she realize why it had remained experimental tech.

Without a base template to work off of the machines could not fully repair the body. They did not regrow his limbs to their former length and dexterity, but instead sealed the wounds shut and designated that he had reached stable condition.

Mr. Findel’s condition had stabilized, but he was still suffering from immense pain internally as not all his wounds were fully healed. When doctors tried to operate on him the machines would rapidly undo their work and “Restore” him to their designated default state leaving him in a state of suffering. Even EMP treatment was unable to disable the machines as more often one was left unaffected from the EMP and would rapidly multiply.

Timlock was nearly fired that day had it not been for the fact that to fire her would have meant admitting the hospital was incapable of treating all ailments and would damage the view in which the hospital was seen universally. So it was swept under the rug, quietly.

Mr. Findel was moved to a research wing for further treatments while Dr. Timlock was now assigned as his overseer. She dedicated much of her time to rising through the ranks to eventually have enough sway to divert the much needed materials to finally cure Mr. Findel of his current tortured existence.

“Is….something….wrong?”

Timlock’s dive into the past was broken by Mr. Findel’s voice. She looked up at him floating in a tube of her own making and sighed.

“Was thinking of the day we met,” she remarked, “and how I failed you.”

“Could….be..worse.” Mr. Findel replied as he shrugged his shoulders.

Dr. Timlock let out a chuckle of disbelief. “How? How could this be any worse?”

“Could…be…dead.” He replied almost immediately.

Timlock’s mouth hung open for a moment before finally relenting to a question she had long since wondered herself.

“Do you want to be?”

Findel said nothing and so the doctor continued.

“I’m no closer to finding a way to turn off those damn things and you’ve been stuck like this for four years.”

“Three-“ Findel began but Timlock would not be interrupted.

“Every day you’ve had since then has been nothing but pain and anguish. Don’t you want it to stop?!”

Findel floated in silence as he pondered the doctor’s words. He could see the years of failures to resolve her debacle weighed heavy around her neck.

“Yesterday…” Findel finally began. “I….didn’t know…..you…were bringing…reporter.”

“What does that have to do with anything!?” Timlock snapped back.

Findel’s expression softened. “Today….was….fun…because…of it.”

Timlock watched in disbelief. The fact that this human, this object of near constant suffering, still had some semblance of fun was almost beyond her capability to reason.

“Tomorrow….may..be worse…” Findel continued, “or……it may be.... better. I…..don’t know…..and that’s…why I….keep going….always…the chance….to be….better.”

[melondecarabia]

⋆˙⟡ 36h observation period (2/3)

leo kurosagi x fem reader 

smut, drama, some angst 

mdni! 

authors note: he's crazy in this one. also sad and angry. every person mentioned by him is catching strays lmao real hater behavior 

tw: leo's villain arc, leo jorking it, leo being unhinged, is he a yandere or just a jealous freak? also mentions of babytrapping 

summary: Leo's time in the 36 hours after escaping the consequences of his own actions. 

24h sugar pill (part 1)

4h trial run (part 3)

9:15 am 

Holy shit shit shit shit shit. 

The view of pine trees and bushes blur as he sprints at full force, Vagastrom as target. 

Leo cannot believe that happened. Hooooooly fuck. 

That fucking homewrecker! Leo can't even eat breakfast without someone fucking ruining it! Damnit! When he gets his hands on that- haaaahhhhh… He slows down, forced by the burning in his lungs and muscles. The cathedral isn't even visible in the horizon anymore, blocked by a dense forest and the distance. For once in his life, Leo is thankful that Alan forces him to go through endurance training at least twice a week. Thanks, himbo. I will hold back one insult today. 

Damn… it feels like he's drinking molten lava with every breath. Leo has to place his shaking hands on his even shakier knees to not collapse as he swallows. No one's around to see him sweat rivers, at least. He might crashout if that happened, especially after… ugh. Whatever. He'll just walk back to his dorm, and pray you don't show up. 

⋆˙⟡

The dorm room Leo lives in is meticulously decorated, so that even with the hard to paint concrete walls and ugly fluorescent lights that he's not allowed to replace, it looks beautiful. There are pristinely arranged books on the glass table that he's never read (and doesn't intend to), and the random pipes in the corner are covered by a closet. Ultimately aesthetic, but boring and cold even with the plush carpet, so Leo is forced to wear both socks and slippers every day to not freeze. Hah. Even your run down, chaotic dorm is better, with it's warm and worn down wooden floors, and cozy atmosphere. Oof, he finally falls down to the mattress. The sound of thumping is still present, even if his breathing has returned to normal already. 

…it was placebo. He knew what the anomaly does beforehand, got hit by it, and just continued to act like a lovesick dork because he thought there would be a clear sign of when it's effects wore off. Honestly, you're an enabler, because- But he made the Pinterest boards months ago, no matter how many bullshit excuses he could come up with right now. One for every room in a house, from entrance to bathroom to kitchen to bedrooms. No no, he started them because he was bored, not because of a crush. But, gradually, with every piece of information about your preferences, the median look became a blend of his and your styles. Ugh! He takes a decorative pillow and strangles it like a maniac. Stupid anomaly, stupid pollen, stupid emo nerd- Knock knock! 

Leo's heart drops down to his ass for a good moment. Is it you? Is it that guy? "Haxs." The sound of low grumbling is a relief. Sho! He doesn't know about all that bullshit! He's oblivious to the fumbling of a century that occurred not even an hour ago! If that information makes it out of that cathedral he'll burn it down himself for fuck's sake. Or get Sho to do it with a dare? Boy's night, like the good old times. 

"Yeah yeah, don't bust down my door, Sho." The mentioned man is wearing the academy uniform, not the Vagastrom one. Low whistle. "Wow, model student Haizono! You wanna become valedictorian or what, dressed up so properly?" Leo already feels better seeing the unimpressed look on Sho's face. He knows it's not judging, or even serious, just… reacting to his banter, as usual. "Yeah, I'll win that Laurel Crown singlehandedly." Chortle, "Mido said we gotta go to undercoverology class, unless we wanna get into trouble." Leo raises an eyebrow at that. Since when has this blondie worried about trouble? "Gotta attend at least once in a while or the teachers get pissy. Less trouble going now than getting bitched at every day." Yeah, uh huh. He'll pass. 

But wait. You know he doesn't go to class. If you looked for him to talk about- ugh, you'd search in Vagastrom, not the campus! "Okay! I'll just change real quick!" Sho looks confused. "Wait, really? The fuck?" And he slams the door to avoid having to explain himself. Leo's luck is turning back! Even if you go to class instead of being dragged around to help others, you have herbology, which is on the other side of the campus. It'll be easy peasy lemon squeezy to avoid you! 

⋆˙⟡

Is Sho hallucinating or was that your hoodie? It's pretty recognizable- also, those clothes were not something Leo wears like, ever? What the hell happened yesterday? He knows you and Leo went to some mall for a mission, but Leo didn't come back to the dorm in the evening. Maybe he showed up late? But- you know what, he'll be better off not caring. He stretches to shake off boredom, and hopes it won't become his problem. 

10:45 am 

So fucking boooooooriiiiiing. He takes back the idea of it being easy to avoid you. It's actually difficult difficult lemon difficult, but it's preferable torture to being forced to talk about that. It's was just too easy to play house, especially when there's a specific kind of torture he wants from you. Snort. A glance to the side reveals Sho is just about to fall asleep, eyes blinking one at a time. Leo's eyes fall on the still cold water bottle, and if anyone would've seen the look on his face, they would've made a swift exit to avoid getting involved. He takes the bottle, and uses it to slowly move aside the hair covering the about-to-be-victim's neck. 

All of the class whips around to look at Sho flailing like a ragdoll, after hearing the man make a sound not unlike a dying seagull. 

"WHAT THE FUCK???" As soon as he came back to his senses, Sho shot a glare that definitely cursed at least 20 of Leo's ancestors. "Haizono, Kurosagi, what-" And the bell rings, interrupting the geezer before he could say anything further. Leo shoves his phone in the pocket of your stolen hoodie, which is worn under the uniform blazer as quiet laughter still shakes his chest. "Keep sharp, Haizono!" He uses the mocking tone of the teacher to make a jab at Sho, who grabs the water bottle in vengeance. "Oh you're not running, stupid bi-" 

⋆˙⟡

He didn't get his revenge. The blond is still smoldering in petty indignation as Leo arranges his ashen hair back to perfect dishevelment, after the thrilling chase. "Still mad? Sucks to suck, Sho." It's so funny to see him seethe. "Uh huh. Sucks that you'll have sand in your bed by evening, dickhead." It's an attempt to sound mad, but there's a clear amusement lacing the words. Whether or not he'll actually go through with the threat? Hell no. He's pretty sure he still sees Sho shimmer on sunny days after dumping glitter in his pillow case four months ago. "Hah. We should go to the beach though, I heard of this spot-" 

And the comfort of distraction is ripped away along with the rest of that sentence. "Huh? What-" A hand shuts his best friend up, as someone passes by the bathrooms. "As I was saying-" He can tell you're talking to Ishibashi from the formal language. You don't usually use that tone, but his best guess is that you only use it with freaks like that. Tri-vision, discount mad scientist, Lucci, and probably Ice Queen, but that's only speculation because of the guy's 'sophisticated' cave dweller tendencies. Scoff, sophisticated his ass. Dude doesn't leave his room, and keeps shooting you booty calls under the guise of seeing you as a servant. Leo bets that albino rat has a tailored maid costume hidden there, specifically made for you. Freak. 

"Haxs." You're already at the end of the hallway, talking about schedules or whatever boring stuff that includes having to account for being on time to meetings. Lick. He snatches his hand back from the smirking traitor's mouth. "Ew, what the fuck?" He wipes the spit on the offender's blazer. "What's up with you and her?" Ugh, the crossed arms show that the himbo's attitude has already infected him. "Nothing. Unless you want glitter in your bed again, shut up." The threat works, but a look of slight disappointment stings Leo. "If you did something stupid, I won't help you. Anyway, I gotta go prepare for lunch hour. Have fun with whatever you're up to." 

11:02 am 

Dickhead. Food truck that, food truck this. And jumping to conclusions like that? He should jump off a- nah. He's better than that. At least with Sho, that is. Anyone else? Fuck 'em. 

It's not lunch time yet… Should he go to the campus store, or the cafeteria? Nah, the hall is always crowded and noisy. And since he's avoiding you, he'd sit alone anyway as Sho's always busy. The only other person he'd even entertain the idea of sitting with would be Lucci, but he doesn't even look the cafeteria's way. So, campus store it is. You always go to the food truck when you're not busy with missions or whatever, and then eat it with either dumb and dumber in the cafeteria or with that green tea bitch and dogboy on the balcony, with Leo often invading the spot next to you. He should also pick up something for this acid reflux that keeps coming back. Leo feels bad for your braincells, they've experienced great and tragic loss in your time spent with those idiots. Deep breath. The scent of your shampoo still lingers on the fabric of the hood. He can feel his muscles relaxing. 

⋆˙⟡

Strawberry? Nah, tastes too artificial. 

Sho's nice, reliable, and goes along with his moods. But he doesn't know shit about Leo. 

Sour apple? Nah, not even close to sour. 

Never takes anything Leo says seriously. Doesn't even really get mad when he does something stupid, pissed? Yeah, but not mad. It won't get brought up later. Forgotten, and automatically forgiven. 

Mango? Maybe, if there are no other options. 

But when nothing's taken seriously, things start to get uncomfortable. Feelings start stagnating like an abandoned pool. Old insults fester like a putrified wound. New arguments feel better than that. 

Cherry? He's only tried it a few times, but it's already his favorite. 

Leo keeps pissing you off on purpose. He makes a backhanded comment? You return it. Extra chili snuck into your food? Salt in his lunch. Equal annoyance is given and received. Conflict is resolved right then and there, even if you have to pull his teeth for it. Arguments are settled in their own difficult way, but that's more carthartic than never talking about it. Maybe some things get joked about later, but not with resentment. 

Yeah, cherry soda and chili tuna onigiri sounds good. He grabs the bottle, balancing it with the food container and acid reflux tablets. Oh, that guy. The first year from Jabberwock, the one you visit the diner for? He's pretty tall… do you like that? Leo's pretty short, after all- but it's adorable, right? Tall guys are just inconvenient, can't fit in showers, or even a bathtub, or an airplane, or- yap yap yap, doesn't fucking matter. 

He fucked up. Leo did kinda know the pollen wore off, before even an hour passed. But it was just so easy to stay in that groove of doting and clinging! Yes, you didn't entertain certain things, but you didn't make him go back to Vagastrom either. You could've called Sho or Mido, but didn't! That means something. You let him stay! You have a high tolerance for whining, so therefore, Leo's not making this shit up. You like him at least a bit, just enough for him to sink his claws into and not let go. 

Oh yeah. He can salvage this situation. Not all hope is lost for sappy date nights and steamy makeouts, or that already fully planned wedding, with a month long honeymoon to Italy. 

⋆˙⟡

Ren is so over this. Why the fuck is that influencer guy smiling like that? He could literally feel the death stare drilling into his skull just seconds ago?? What the fuck why is he giggling like a fucking haunted doll??? Hurry up cashier man, he's gotta escape NOW. PLEASE. 

11:33 am 

The onigiri wasn't quite as hot as he had hoped it would be, but became edible enough with the help of his trusty spice bottle. The remaining cherry soda washes away the last grains of rice stuck in his teeth. It's a sweet flavor, but sour enough to not get sick of it anytime soon. Or ever, it's really good. Maybe he could get a sponsorship from the company? Worth a try, at least. 

'Thank you for your order! Purchase confirmation will be sent to your e-mail.' Mhm, first step, check. Some Mortkranken students pass by, and one of them flinches at the sight of Leo like a timid deer hearing a twig snap. Leo sends the most saccharine smile he's got, and the NPC pales at the gesture. Hoho, he'll send that request this evening. Dude didn't think he'd get away with that shit, did he? Dumbass. 

⋆˙⟡

Pretty much only shy people sit alone at lunch in this portion Darkwick. Leo's not shy by any stretch, and neither are you, really. You were for a while, when he first met you. It's a part of getting cursed and thrown in the middle of a 50/50 deadly or just bitchy battle royale in under 24 hours, though. Starting out without a spine like a worm, but eventually turning into a beetle, instead of a fragile butterfly. Sure, pretty damn easy to kill as far as anomalies are involved, but not completely defenseless against fellow humans or insults. 

On your first meeting, you barely looked Leo in the eye. Nothing really remarkable, even easy to target for entertainment, if it weren't for you already gaining the favor of both the Frostheim ghouls and himbo in a few weeks time. Pretty impressive, honestly, and even more impressive that you didn't just give up and die after getting almost dropped to your death by that tulpa. 

You could've died back there. That could've been your final day, and it would've been Leo's fault. In that timeline, where you died, Leo wouldn't even feel bad for it, would he? Maybe it would've been an inconvenience, a severe scolding from Cap and some detention from Darkwick staff, but no real remorse for it, huh? Maybe he'd even rag on Sho for having a useless stigma, or something, but already forgetting your name after a month. Would his friendship with Sho have stayed strong, or get eroded by time and new circumstances, like now? 

But that timeline isn't this one. You didn't die, you survived, and grew even stronger. You started making direct eye contact, then standing up for your friends with conviction of steel, and by now, started going on duo missions with Leo, with only minimal complaining out of habit. Leo hates change, but that personality flip was more than welcomed. Finally, a real friend that calls out his bullshit, and doesn't talk behind his back! Everyone knows him as a popular influencer, and a smaller group knows he's a toxic cunt, but only you consistently defend him. Not when people justifiably complain about getting blackmailed or insulted, but when someone thinks he's just an airheaded baby bitch who can't fight. Yeah, Sho defends him too, but noticeably less. When he does, he's either looking for a fight, or just plain doesn't like that person. And sure, Leo can handle it, but fuck does it feel better when someone stands up for him. After all, there's only two people in his life he can talk to without worrying about getting backstabbed or ignored. It's the reason he's sitting alone right now, as well. 

This plan has to work. He chews on a well manicured nail, and tastes the bitterness of clear polish. It has to, or he'll go off the rails like sharktooth Chucky from Sinostra. He'll eat Bonnie first, out of spite. 

1:42 pm 

"Hmmm… that sounds delicious as well, so it's quite difficult to choose. What do you recommend?" Mr Beans On Toast and Mr Beans For Brains are standing right in the hallway where his class is. Fuck. The chances of you showing up just just shot up like 800%. Why the hell are they here anyway? You and the two professional dickriders have artifact studies next, not enigmatology! "Uhh, well, I usually go for the shoyu chicken. You should ask her too, since I don't eat in ramen restaurants that much." They're talking about you now. Leo knows, because no other person that has a pussy talks to Fuji, or gets within a 10 meter radius of the dude out of anything but obligation or accident. He sends a final look around the corner. You're going out with them today? Have you already told them about yesterday and this morning? Shitfuck, he can't risk being seen by them, they'll definitely snitch on the spot if you ask. Fuck it. Leo's been a teacher's pet enough for the day, he can go back to his dorm already. 

"Kaito." That tone sends a shiver down his spine, even if it's not his own name you're saying. Wait, you're here? He has to haul ass, now. "Remedial class? Again? I told you to study more." Fuck, that should be him! Fuji clearly doesn't appreciate the privilege of getting scolded by you, if the whiny excuses are anything to go off of. If he was the one getting told off, he'd piss you off even more. So much so, that you'd have no choice but to bend him over and spank him for every minute of class missed… these pants feel uncomfortable. At least your hoodie covers it up. 

⋆˙⟡

Leo's already outside, leisurely strolling towards Vagastrom, when his phone buzzes. 

Sho: yo leo 

Sho: (y/n) asked if ur alright 

Sho: i said yea 

Leo: ok 

Sho: u need to tell me what happened bro 

Leo: no im not telling shit its nothing 

Leo: and stay out of it. i have 5 bags of glitter on hand. dont even try. 

Sho: ok damn 

Yeah, don't even try. Leo can't have anyone intervening on this delicate situation right now, especially not him or Cap. No one else either, or he'll break the record of a 3 day streak of not doxxing anyone as retaliation. He shoves the phone back in the hoodie's pocket, and hustles even faster as an ominous, but a bit too familiar cackle of a certain redheaded gambler rings out. Not today, Satan. 

7:58 pm 

Aaand posted! His muscles relax in relief as the screen of the sticker-covered laptop turns black, freeing Leo from the filming and editing process of a new video. A slight moan escapes, as he stretches out on the queensize bed like a cat. Damn, I'm a hard worker. He takes a moment to shut his eyes, to find some relief from the slight burning caused by being continuously flashbanged by bluelight. At least that's over, and now he can doomscroll as a treat! Let's see… Ugh, his algorithm is fucked up. Seeing all the wedding and family influencers right now isn't salt in his wounds, but the whole fucking spice cabinet. Ooh, a bouquet like that though? He saves it, before switching to another burner account. You know, the one where he follows everything your friends post about you? Yeah, that one! Nothing's really been posted though… Hotarubi's vice captain had an iced matcha latte, yada yada, oh. Fuji's post. Now, Leo is painfully aware that the romantic relationship with you that he posts on social media is fake. Leo himself specifically told you to not think anything of it, even if he changed his mind by now. Every picture of you two holding hands, or going on cutesy cafe dates was for content. But come on. This definitely feels like cheating! He glares poison daggers at the digital picture of you and the two idiots, sitting side by side, holding overstuffed ice cream cones. And he recognizes the logo imprinted on the waffles. Because it's from a popular date spot. Where he wants to take you. 

Does that mushroom-headed little bitch think Leo is a cuck? That he'll stand by as these dickheads make moves on you? Fuck no. Time needs to move a whole lot faster right now, he thinks, as the burning feeling of jealousy itches under his skin, like the marching of a million fire ants. Anticipation of getting to fulfill his plan starts to physically hurt, and it's as though he's possessed, with every position taken feeling uncomfortable, when the thought of you with anyone else takes over. Ragged breaths shake his ribs, as he swallows and focuses on the faint cracks of the ceiling. 

A shuddering breath calms him down slightly. Soon. As soon as you're his real girlfriend, life will be perfect, and this suffering will be worthy of that. He can cling onto you like a boa, and not let go, ever. He can put trackers on you. No onewill take you away, and he'll get his happy ending no matter what. Each day starts in bed next to you, and ends the same way. Taking baths together, shopping for groceries, going out for dates. No second will be spent apart, he daydreams, as his thighs start to rub together. Mhm, you'd come home from work on weekdays, and get greeted by Leo and two children. Your children, because he'll knock you up as soon as possible. Even before the wedding, as his hand ghosts over the front of his pajama pants, you'd be tied down even without a ring. A satisfied sigh is conjured when his hips are no longer covered by fabric. A moan, when his hand finally wraps itself around the flushed shaft. Each year, you'd have two vacations, as the first stroke rips out a gasp. One with the whole family, and the other? Just you two, a squeeze to the weeping tip. A whole two weeks, consisting of eating good food, taking photos, and sensual fucking in whatever destination you'd landed in. He doesn't even need lube right now, with the amount of precum his fantasies provoke. Each snippet of delusion is accompanied by a slapping sound, and the fire of jealousy is replaced by an intense heat in his lower stomach. 

A white light and ringing noise fills his senses, as a burst of cum shoots out to stain his shirt with a long, high-pitched moan. Or rather, your shirt that he was wearing before running off. Ugh, it's all over him, from hips, to stomach, to his hand. Sigh. He needs to calm down at least a bit. You're not really interested in anyone, he grits his teeth, which unfortunately includes himself. 

You probably wouldn't like it if he babytrapped you. In fact, you might hate him for even attempting, and leave him. Which, clearly, wouldn't be ideal. He'll just propose after a year, and then marry you right after graduation. Wedding night though? A devious grin breaks his afterglow serenity. It's free real estate. 

10:03 pm 

Leo: have it ready by tomorrow, before 1 pm. any later? those posts will guarantee getting blacklisted from every school and workplace imaginable. do you understand? 

Mortkranken Creep: Understood 

Man, this blackmail shit is easy. Leo can practically hear the guy shaking in his cheap sneakers, even over text. He spits out a wad of minty froth in the sink, and grins at the mirror to see his teeth shine. Perfect! The lights of the bathroom are off with a click, and he practically skips over to his bed. His meticulous skincare routine is done, and he even used a special face mask in preparation for tomorrow. All that's left to do is sleep well, fetch his extra fast delivery packet in the morning, and visit that gooner schmuck in the noon. Then? His plan is as good as accomplished, and he'll be wearing a cute apron and tight leggings in four years time. For now, Leo cozies up in the Egyptian cotton-covered duvets, and breathes in the scent of your shampoo that still lingers in the hoodie he's wearing. He can't wait for tomorrow. 

9:16 am 

Refresh. Refresh. Refresh. Where the fuck is that packet? Leo is currently shaking like a cocaine-addicted chihuahua, pacing near the mail building. If the definition of insanity is repeating an action, expecting the end result to change, Leo needs to be locked up in a mental ward. For other reasons as well, but whatever. The kimchi in his sandwich crunches with an unnecessarily aggressive bite. You sent a text this morning, asking if he's alright. Leo had to chew on his pillow to not giggle like a maniac, though Alan still looked at him weird when they crossed paths in the common area. But that doesn't matter in any capacity, as the notification of 'Your packet has arrived! Please pick it up as soon as possible!' appears with another refresh. The piece of sandwich still in his mouth almost chokes him, as Leo almost lets out a villainous laugh. 

Just before rounding the corner, he freezes. Fuck fuck fucking fuck, you and carrot top are right in front of the mail building! Another cautious peek. Whatever that guy said cannot be that funny. Obnoxious fucker, leave already! This is so unfair. 

⋆˙⟡

Leo starts manifesting a painful death on Haru, who just wanted to tell (y/n) about the new hats he bought for Peekaboo. "Come visit soon, and you'll see how cool they are! One's a bucket hat, and the other is an orange crocheted wig! We'll really look like father and son, right? Gyahahah!" And he waves the honor student goodbye, gleefully wishing luck on her exam next week, before entering the mail building. 

While waiting for his packet to be found in the back, the usually stuffy and honestly quite hot temperature inside drops to a spine-chilling freeze. Haru turns to sneak a subtle look at the person who just entered. Kurosagi seems pretty harmless, but currently? He gulps, and prays the Vagastrom first year would blink. A thick layer of sweat appears, and Haru prays for the mail cats to work faster. That stare has him scared for his life. 

12:59 pm 

Target located. The Mortkranken student, who had the unfortunate luck of gaining attention from Leo, is shuffling nervously on a park bench. Getting closer… "Boo!" The dude doesn't even scream, but jumps up like a prisoner in an electric chair at the feeling of two hands slapping down on his shoulders. Leo can't help but snicker at the sight of the student gasping for air. "Wha- what." Trembling like a leaf in a hurricane, the student turns to Leo. "K-K-Kurosagi, you-" "Oh, quit the stuttering. D-d-do you have what I need or not? I'm not here to talk about the weather." He's a busy man, can't you see? Probably not, with those overgrown, greasy bangs. Tch. This loser's a certified creep. He used the anonymous confessions board to post a degenerate fantasy about stealing your clothes and marrying you, as if he had any chance. Pathetic.

"Yeah. Here. It's, uh, supposed to last for 4 hours, with one-" Leo snatches up the small pouch, causing the guy to flinch back. "Uh huh. If it doesn't work, or causes any weird side effects, everyone on campus will know you jack off to the honor student daily. Have a nice life!" The ashen haired man skips off with a saccharine mockery of a goodbye, and starts to head on over to the cathedral. It's Friday, and it'll be a very long weekend. 

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

Asking them to step on/choke you

Cw: Nsfw/suggestive, choking, being stepped on

A/N: Late night insanity strikes again but you cannot tell me you've never had the passing thought of them stepping on you/being choked by them even if you're not into that like even I'm not into that and I would not believe you >:V

-------

Neuvillette glances at you from his seat on your shared bed in confusion when you kneel before him on the floor stopping him from removing his boots. When you request that he step on you he simply nods moving his hands to untie his hair as he won't be removing his boots.

"You had mentioned before that you did wish to try this at some point." He pulls his hair up into a half pony tail, half bun style. "I am agreeable but do tell me if it is too much. Now where should I...? There?" He applies a bit of pressure where you placed his foot. "I see, very well then. Allow me to indulge you."

He observes every little reaction of yours with quiet interest. How you sigh and groan as he steps just that much harder into you, it does something to him. He feels his cocks twitch to life and you gaze up at his lovely flushing face.

"I believe I am beginning to see the appeal."

Wriothesley hums into your neck, eyes closed as he sucks on the skin there his hands wandering to your ass. He chuckles as you ask him to choke you and leans back into the pillows of your bed against the head board.

"Someone's into some interesting things it seems. Not that I'm complaining. Although..." He lifts his right hand to gently stroke the side of your neck with his knuckles. "I'll do as you wish, just give me the signal if you need me to stop, alright?"

You agree and he smirks with hunger in his eyes, his right hand taking it's place along your throat. He squeezes gently until you prompt him to go a little harder, your eyes fluttering.

"Lovely." He whispers licking his lips at the sight and the sensation of your ass grinding against his growing arousal. "Lovely, indeed."

Zhongli pauses midway loosening up his tie from above you on the bed to stare into your eyes when you ask him to choke you. He listens as you speak, a little flustered your hands fluttering around as you try to explain yourself.

"I see...Then I shall satisfy this desire of yours." He sits up straddling you and tugs off his tie completely tossing it onto the foot board to join his coat. "However I will only do so if you agree to use our safe nonverbal signal should you wish to stop. That is agreeable, yes?"

You nod rapidly before remembering to verbally consent. "Good." He leans down swallowing your whimpers with a deep kiss as he lightly squeezes your throat.

Wanderer raises an eyebrow and smirks after listening to your request for him to step on you.

"So shameless." He kisses his teeth as he motions for you to kneel in front of him. If you wanted to be beneath him so badly then who is he to deny you of your rightful place underneath his heel?

"Look at you... all worked up over my heel digging into you. Your desires sure are twisted."

His face is in a neutral state looking a little bored as he presses his heel a little more into your flesh. There's a light flush on his cheeks as he looks down at you from his seat on the bed. Perhaps he's enjoying this a bit more than he let's on.

[astonmartinii]

was wondering if you could do a smau or just a normal fic where oscar or lando are with an f1 academy driver!reader where maybe outside of racing reader is slightly alternative/rockstar gf vibes

hope you have a good day!

i am the rockstar, girlfriend | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x f1academy!reader

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, oliviarodrigo and 320,984 others

yourusername: you get the best of both worlds

view all comments

user1: enough is enough i need to be her

user2: someone get that kitty cat some ear protectors

yourusername: i found cumberland sausage in a bush by an airfield baby has ear drums of literal steel

user3: i wish i was a kitten who gets to go racing and live the rockstar life

racerbia: tell cumberland i love her

yourusername: so what about me ???

racerbia: i guess i love you too

yourusername: that's what i thought

user4: miss ma'am lowkey MADE it tell me why she has olivia rodrigo in her likes

user5: the girlies been using y/n as a pinterest board

oscarpiastri: who's the cutie

yourusername: oh oscar i'm blushing ... 😊

oscarpiastri: i meant cumberland sausage

yourusername: blocked.

oscarpiastri: i'm in your walls.

user6: i'm sorry but what the fuck is going on in here

user7: i'm just going to sit back and observe

vogue

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 1,209,875 others

tagged: yourusername

vogue: this month's cover of british vogue is up and coming f1 academy driver y/n y/ln who doesn't let her day job as a driver stop her from embracing her chosen aesthetic in every other aspect of her life. inside y/n touches upon her struggles as a woman in the industry, inspiring others and her scene-stealing cat, cumberland sausage.

view all comments

user8: mama on the cover of vogue ???

user9: okay i don't have a clue what the f1 academy is but i may have to tune in now

yourusername: thank yew for having me 🥰

user10: i guess we can't gatekeep her anymore

user11: gatekeep? girl she had like 700k followers before this

racerbia: oh so my bestie FAMOUS famous

yourusername: don't worry i'll never forget you

racerbia: i should hope not you still don't have your road license and who gives you lifts?

yourusername: i love youuuuuuuu

user12: so not to make it about a man, but oscar always be in the comments/interacting with posts from/about y/n

user13: rocks for brains

user14: tbf they'd be cute

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 609,812 others

tagged: premaracing, yourusername

oscarpiastri: can't keep me away from the racing, i spent my spare weekend in barcelona with the f1 academy. oh i guess i bumped into y/n (most importantly, cumberland sausage)

view all comments

user15: so ... did anyone else know they were friends?

user16: i went dumpster-diving to find out and they're very lowkey but they've known each other a long time but because of racing in different series they've mostly had an online friendship

user15: interesting

yourusername: always nice to see you osc, and cumberland says thank you for her dreamies

oscarpiastri: she's always the highlight of our visits

yourusername: stop playing hard to get

oscarpiastri: you know i'm always easy for you

user16: @yourusername you know we can all see this, right?

yourusername: i know that's half the fun

user17: god this comment section fried my brain

landonorris: so THIS is where you were this weekend

oscarpiastri: yes, i told you this

landonorris: nooooo, you skipped my bbq because you were visiting "someone special"

oscarpiastri: yes, cumberland sausage

landonorris: i'm on to you, piastri 🤨

f1academy

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 331,896 others

tagged: premaracing, yourusername

f1academy: OH WOW !! y/n y/ln sets a record this weekend in monza by leading all practices, grabbing pole for all three races, leading all laps and winning all three races - the first ever f1 academy grand chelem

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user18: okay but like what more does she need to do to get to f2?

user19: i was there and lord this is DOMINATION

racerbia: that's MY teammate

yourusername: i love youuuuuu

user20: now this is a slay

oscarpiastri: wowowowowowowo

yourusername: do i make you speechless?

oscarpiastri: you know it

user21: these bitches are just teasing us now.

yourusername

liked by racerbia, oscarpiastri and 679,034 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: happy birthday cumberland sausage, my pretty girl, mummy and daddy love you xxx

view all comments

user22: MUMMY AND DADDY?

user23: so we're all idiots?

racerbia: i thought you guys agreed on a soft launch?

yourusername: too much effort, cumberland's birthday is now

racerbia: your mind confuses me so much

user24: i'm new here someone PLEASE tell me how this cat ended up with the name cumberland sausage

yourusername: when i rescued her the only food i had in my flat was a pack of sausages and it just stuck

oscarpiastri: does this make you a milf?

yourusername: and you a dilf?

landonorris: who are you and what have you done with my teammate?

oscarpiastri: are you just annoyed you found out the same time as everyone else?

landonorris: .... no

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 788,034 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: best weekend, with the best of company

view all comments

user25: mama y papa

user26: obsessed with y/n's need to bring her cat with her everywhere, she's just like me

yourusername: so proud of you osc

oscarpiastri: maybe it's because i had a good luck charm in my garage

yourusername: that's cute, but for real you're just TALENTED AS FUCK AND DESERVE EVERYTHING

user27: loving y/n's brand of aggressive positive reinforcement

mclaren: turns out we ARE a cat friendly garage

yourusername: that you are, and your catering is very good 10/10 experience would do again

oscarpiastri: extra points for letting cumberland sleep on a tyre blanket

yourusername

liked by racerbia, oscarpiastri and 821,067 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: living the dream

view all comments

user28: that should be me 😭

user29: god i have seen what you have done for others

oscarpiastri: i dream of you often

landonorris: i beg you stop being horny on main

oscarpiastri: you made it weird mate i'm just professing my love for my girlfriend

yourusername: awwww love you too baby

user30: the way oscar is lowkey bringing in y/n's aesthetic

yourusername: i love this thought but really he'd just came for a last min visit and that is my shirt 😭

oscarpiastri: don't expose me like that

user31: now that's MY f1 IT couple

[yunholic-jongholic]

Dreambound Seduction [Part 4] | OT8 Ateez x Succubus!Reader

SUMMARY | You were sent to Earth with a mission—to observe and ensnare eight men, all untouched and inexperienced. Your task was to infiltrate their dreams, seduce them, and make them yours. Though this was your first time carrying out such a mission, failure wasn’t an option. You had to ensure they craved you, surrendering themselves unknowingly, so you could feed off their energy and sustain your own existence.

PAIRINGS | OT8 Virgin!Ateez x Fem!Reader

RATING | Mature, 18+, NSFW, MDNI!!!

CONTENT WARNINGS | NSFW, Smut, Explicit Content, Hell Setting, Sex-Dreaming, Somnophilia, Shy!Yeosang, Teasing, Cowgirl Position, Creampie, Praising, (WE ARE MISSING SOME I KNOW IT I AM SORRY) (A/N: NO, SHE IS NOT SORRY SHE NEVER COMES BACK TO FIX THESE)

WORD COUNT | 2.3k

AUTHORS NOTE | Fourth chapter! YEOSANG FOCUSED!!!

TAG LIST | @mingisleftnipple @atinyzen117 @nkryuki

•

Next was Yeosang.

The moment you laid eyes on him; you tilted your head with a smirk. Cute, you thought. With that soft, clean look and quiet presence, he seemed like the type to fall quickly—easily swayed by just the right smile, just the right touch.

This’ll be easy, you assumed.

But it wasn’t.

Yeosang was shy, painfully so. And not in a charming, flustered kind of way. The moment you hinted at anything remotely suggestive—whether through tone, glance, or subtle touch—he panicked. He’d stammer, avoid eye contact, even physically step away as if your presence overwhelmed him.

And worst of all… he was polite about it.

“I-I just don’t want to cross any lines,” he’d say, voice shaking, gaze darting anywhere but you. “I want to respect your boundaries.”

You wanted to scream. They’re fake, Yeosang. I want you to cross them.

But of course, you smiled sweetly instead, playing along, even though your patience was starting to wear thin.

Still… that shy vulnerability of his? It was something you could work with.

You just had to be a little cleverer. Maybe less forward. Maybe… let him think it was his idea.

And you were very good at that.

The soft glow from the TV flickered across the room, casting gentle light over both of you as the rom com played in the background. Yeosang sat beside you, stiff as a board, arms tucked awkwardly against his sides like he wasn’t sure what to do with them—or with you.

You, of course, were nothing short of patient. For now.

Every few minutes, you tried something—soft touches, casual and light. Your hand rested gently on his thigh for a moment too long, your head found its way to his shoulder, your breath deliberately slow and warm against his neck.

Still, he sat there, wide-eyed, hands gripping the hem of his sweatshirt like it might somehow protect him from the moment.

You sighed softly and, with a playful smile, wrapped both of your arms around his arm, snuggling close into his side like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You’re warm,” you whispered, voice feather-light.

Yeosang made a tiny sound—something between a laugh and a panicked squeak—and tensed even more. “A-ah… th-thank you…” he stammered, eyes still locked on the screen, clearly doing everything in his power not to combust.

You smirked to yourself. He was trying so hard to be respectful. So sweet. So frustrating.

But his heart was racing. You could feel it through his sleeve.

That nervous energy pulsing through him? It wasn’t fear. It was desire—deep, repressed, and perfect for you to unravel.

He wouldn’t stay innocent forever. Not with you beside him.

You reached for the remote and paused the TV, the sudden silence settling between the two of you like a charged fog. Yeosang turned his head slowly, confusion in his eyes—but the moment his gaze met yours, he froze.

You leaned in, slowly, deliberately, closing the distance between your faces until you could feel the warmth of his breath. His heartbeat thundered in his chest—it was so loud, so fast, you didn’t need to touch him to know.

He wants this.

And then, without another word, your lips met his.

It was soft at first, delicate—a quiet invitation rather than a demand. Yeosang tensed beneath your touch, frozen in place for a breathless second. But then, something shifted. His hand reached out hesitantly, then more confidently, pulling you closer as he melted into the kiss.

The moment deepened, just enough. You could feel him letting go, piece by piece.

So sweet. So nervous.

And now—finally—yours to unravel.

“You’re such a good kisser…” you purred against his lips, your voice sultry and warm, designed to make his heart flutter just a little more.

Yeosang’s face immediately turned a deeper shade of pink, his breath shaky as he murmured a soft, almost embarrassed, “Thank you…”

He finally pulled back, eyes wide but gentle as they searched yours, as if still trying to process what had just happened.

You gave him a sweet smile, tilting your head before leaning in again—not for another kiss, but to nuzzle your face against his neck. He shivered under your touch, still stiff, still nervous, but not pulling away. That was progress.

You rested there quietly, your mind racing behind the calm façade.

Does he even need to be seduced in his dreams?

He was already melting—already letting you in, bit by bit, and you hadn’t even fully tapped into your power.

Could you take him now?

It was risky. But the idea of tasting him fully—now, in this moment, while he was awake, craving, unsure—was beyond tempting.

Still… something about him made you hesitate.

Maybe it was that he was offering himself without force. Maybe it was the way he looked at you like you were something to be cherished, not consumed.

Or maybe… just maybe… it would be more delicious to let him think he had a choice.

For now.

Yeosang tilted your face up to his again, his fingers surprisingly gentle but firm, and without hesitation, he leaned in. Your lips met once more, deeper this time—less unsure, more eager. You could feel the shift in him, the tension in his body giving way to something more forward, more open.

When he lifted you onto his lap, you knew.

He wanted more.

And that’s exactly what you wanted.

You let the kiss linger, just long enough to keep him intoxicated. Then, just as his hands began to settle around your waist, you slowly pulled back.

You stood, smoothing yourself out with a sweet smile as if nothing had just happened.

"I should get going..." you said, your voice playful, teasing, every word laced with deliberate intention. "I need to get home and get ready for bed."

His expression faltered, lips parted in surprise, still breathless from the moment you’d just shared.

You were giving him just enough to ache for you—and then taking it away.

It wasn’t rejection. It was hunger.

And by the time you returned…

He’d be starving for you.

Yeosang sat there, flustered and scrambling for any excuse to get you to stay.

“Do you—want to stay for tea? Or I can walk you home? Or we could—keep watching the movie?” His words tumbled out, desperate in the softest, sweetest way, like he couldn’t bear the thought of the night ending just yet.

Oh, he was adorable.

So eager now. So needy.

You giggled softly, brushing your fingertip over his lips, watching the way he froze under your touch. “Shh,” you whispered playfully. “I’ll be back tomorrow… if you want.”

Your voice was sweet, light—innocent. But you both knew the weight behind it. What you really meant was: tonight.

Yeosang nodded reluctantly, clearly disappointed but too respectful to push you. “O-Okay… I’d like that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You gave him one last teasing glance over your shoulder as you slipped out the door, leaving the scent of you lingering in the air like temptation.

The second it clicked shut behind you, your smile twisted into a knowing smirk.

Now all you had to do was wait.

When he was most vulnerable. Most yours.

And the moment Yeosang drifted off to sleep, you’d be there.

Not sweet. Not shy.

Just his darkest, most beautiful dream.

You waited just long enough to ensure he was asleep—fully slipped into that quiet, open place where dreams take hold and reality blurs.

Then, with a silent breath, you reappeared in his room, the shadows curling softly around your form as you stepped closer to his bed.

He looked peaceful, innocent even—face calm, lips slightly parted. That wouldn’t last.

You reached out and gently placed your hand on his forehead, eyes fluttering closed as your power surged through your fingertips. You pulled the blanket down with slow grace, exposing him to the cool night air as you slipped seamlessly into his subconscious.

Immediately, you began shaping the dream.

Everything in it—every glance, every touch, every whisper—was you. You made sure he felt your warmth, your breath, the way your body moved just out of reach.

Yeosang’s breathing shifted, growing heavier, uneven. His fingers curled slightly against the sheets. A soft whimper escaped his lips—your name, barely formed, lost in the haze of sleep.

You smirked. He’s slipping.

The sweat began to form lightly on his brow, his skin flushed under the dream’s rising heat.

You leaned closer, watching him fall deeper, completely entangled in the world you had crafted for him.

Now he wouldn’t just want you.

He’d need you.

You slowly pulled your hand away from Yeosang’s forehead, the dream still lingering in his expression—his breaths shallow, skin warm, and thoughts tangled in the images you’d left behind.

His eyelids fluttered open, confusion clouding his gaze for only a brief moment before his eyes settled on you. That softness was gone now, replaced with something darker… heavier.

“Y/N…?” he breathed, his voice low and laced with need. “What are you doing here…”

But he didn’t push you away.

Instead, he sat up slowly, drawn to you, his body moving on instinct.

You crawled up onto his lap with ease, straddling him like you belonged there—as if this was where you were always meant to be. Your fingers traced his jaw gently, your face only inches from his.

“Shh…” you whispered, your voice like velvet, warm and coaxing. “Let me take care of you.”

Your lips brushed against his, soft and slow, just enough to make his breath catch.

You felt the tension melt from him as his hands found your waist, trembling slightly.

And with that, the final wall came down.

Yeosang was yours now—completely.

You pulled his shirt off and he helped you remove your clothes. His touch was soft and delicate.

You admired his frame, biting your lip softly running your fingers down his chest and arms.

"How bad do you want me... You can be honest Yeosang..." You hum pulling him into another kiss. Yeosang didn't respond. He only kissed you. You run your fingers through his hair as his lips traveled down your neck softly kissing it. You let out a soft moan digging your nails into his hair, tangling around.

Yeosang finally placed you softly on the bed and took his pants off throwing them off somewhere. You wrapped your arms around him looking at him in a seductive manner.

He held your thighs placing them upward as he looked down trying to figure out how to do this. You noticed he was a bit nervous still and you rolled your eyes a bit frustrated.

"Let me help you." You press him off of you and you set him back against the headboard and you finally sat right on his cock. You let out a moan before you started moving.

"Y/N..." He moaned wrapping his hands softly around your waist. You rolled your hips; you hungrily kissed him poisoning him more to want you even more. He groaned and started thrusting upwards into you.

His hands traveled up your body and he caressed your face.

"You are so pretty..." He groans looking deeply into your eyes.

"Keep going... Please don't stop..." Your face was deep red as you looked down watching his cock thrust deep into you. He soon flipped you to where he was on top of you and gained a big confidence boost.

Yeosang and you were both a moaning mess. Yeosang tried hard to control himself, but he was losing himself deeper and deeper. His moaning sounded so good, his voice was deep, but he had such a beautiful face you were ruining.

"Yeosang..." You fake sobbed as he started thrusting in harder almost causing you to have an orgasm very soon.

"Look at me pretty girl..." He whispered groaning out as he lifted your chin and kissed your tears away. You only thought of completely ripping his body apart as he closed his eyes, and you dug your claws into his back.

"I am going to cum..." He mumbled under his breath panting hard. You bit your lip, legs wrapped around his waist pulling him closer and deeper into you.

"Do it Yeosang..." You moan and that immediately tips him over the edge as he buries his face deep into your neck and his legs tremble as he cums deep inside you. You only smirk enjoying the feeling as he just feeds you energy.

Yeosang collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving, body trembling from the intensity he wasn’t prepared for. You hummed softly, your fingers gliding along his back before gently guiding him to the side. He rolled over without resistance, spent and dazed, struggling to catch his breath.

You leaned in, lips brushing against the heated skin of his neck, placing soft, lingering kisses there as he lay still, completely vulnerable beneath your touch.

He was silent, save for the sound of his panting, his mind clearly still spinning from everything you’d pulled him into.

“You did such an amazing job…” you whispered with a wicked little smirk, your voice dripping with honeyed praise.

His eyes barely stayed open, glazed with exhaustion and hazy wonder. His lips moved as if to say your name, but no sound came—just a soft exhale, his breath still unsteady.

He knew.

Maybe not the full truth… but enough to understand he’d been changed by whatever had just happened.

You sat up slowly, brushing the hair from his forehead with your fingertips, watching the way he leaned ever so slightly into your touch, even now.

“So cute,” you whispered, your voice soft—almost affectionate, like a lullaby before the end.

And then, without another word, your form faded into shadow, melting into the air around him.

Gone, as if you were never there.

Yeosang lay in silence, barely conscious, the warmth of your touch still lingering on his skin.

Another soul stirred beneath your fingertips.

And the hunt continued.

Four down.

Only four more to go.

•

A/N: San is next >:3 (Technically my first San story ever LMFAO)

[tiredandkindaoverworked]

Hobbies with the Redacted Boys:

(Side note: I was listening to love songs when I wrote these and it’s also 1 AM so I’m a little sappy, which is why these might be a little rambly.)

David: People watching. Is this really a hobby? He doesn’t do it as frequently anymore, but on a day he has off and Angel’s at work, he’ll sit in a cafe for a couple of hours and read a book. He’ll go between reading and observing people. He can subconsciously hear Gabe in his head, telling him to analyze people, to see what’s going on in their head from their actions, their expressions, their body language.

Asher: Collecting state coins. He finds it really fun to look through his change to see if he’s gotten any states he hasn’t already for his collection. He’s got a coin holder displayed on a shelf somewhere and sees it as a scavenger hunt. Baaabe teases him about it, but it actually really excites them too.

Milo: Cosplay! Milo already loves to look good, so in my head, it makes sense that he’d also love to look good as characters from other worlds! Also a great excuse to go thrift shopping with Sweetheart. He also cosplays as Sweetheart’s fantasy crushes in the bedroom.

Sam: Scrapbooking. He noticed that Darlin’ didn’t have a lot of things when they moved in, especially lacking in the personal effects department. Over the years, he decided it would be fun to get a disposable camera and occasionally whip out the camera whenever he felt like it. He’s got pictures from solstice parties, Shaw Pack Smash tournaments, general hangouts, members of the pack. Darlin’ was moved by it and has joined in on the fun. Sam and Darlin’s cabin now has a huge cork board that they keep filling up with memories.

Damien: Drawing. He isn’t particularly good at it yet, but he’s determined to be, as he is with most things. Drawing is one of the things that takes time to improve at and that’s something he surprisingly enjoys. He likes to take his time and practice. The one subject he keeps seeing major improvement in is when he draws Huxley.

Huxley: Working out. It makes him feel good, it makes him look good, and it helps him sharpen his mind. He often works out to clear his head and to think on issues he might be having. Deadlifting 225 lbs really puts things into perspective, y’know?

Lasko: Crocheting/building Lego kits. I HC that Lasko is very fidgety and likes to keep his hands occupied. When he’s teaching or doing office hours, he twirls a pen in his fingers. When he’s at home, he’ll do his arts and crafts.

Gavin: Baking! After he made the chiffon cake, he discovered he actually really liked doing things the human way. It felt more domestic to him. The necessity for precision scratched something in his brain. Him and Freelancer often bring baked goods to hangouts.

Elliot: Collecting Pokémon cards. Elliot’s one of those people who has a binder full of Pokémon cards and no one can tell me otherwise. He also plays the mobile TCG and has Sunshine pull packs for him. He gives them the biggest smooch every time they pull an EX.

Aaron: Crossword Puzzles. Whenever his time isn’t consumed with Vesta, he likes doing crossword puzzles with Smartass. He originally did them with Elliot when they were growing up, but that changed to doing them on his own when him and Elliot grew apart. After Brachium, Aaron picked the crossword puzzles up again. He has archives of solved crossword puzzles sitting in a folder, covered with both his and Smartass’s handwriting.

Avior: Making drinks. When he was trapped in hell, he and Starlight would always talk about what they’d do when they got back to Elegy. One of those things was visit that cafe. Eventually, the pair got an espresso machine (Avior actually just conjured one when he saw how much they were) and has gotten really good at making coffee drinks. It’s a nice thing to have, but it’s a million times better seeing the smile bloom on Starlight’s face when they taste it.

Anton: Making Paper Flowers. He also fidgets a lot like Lasko and needs an outlet for them. He actually does a lot of origami and every time he makes something new, he gifts it to Love. Love has a vase full of his paper flowers, an undying bouquet that keeps growing to symbolize Anton’s love for Love. (Love also got him those little origami stars and the pair will fold some together and put them in the vase to hold Love’s flowers in place.)

Guy: Writing. He canonically writes, both in Fooliverse and Prime, but I like to think his Notes app is just filled with all kinds of things. He often has spur of the moment ideas for stories. Sometimes, if an idea is hogging his brain too much, he’ll open a document on his phone, turn on text to speech and then just go to town on a ramble just to get it all out.

Vincent: Painting. After Vincent and Lovely got their new apartment, the walls were painfully bare, so Vince decided to change that. Slowly, he started out with the classic fruit bowl and as he got better, he started painting people. He painted Sam and Porter and Alexis. He even tried his hand at painting Will, but the pain was still too upsetting for him. He scrapped the painting midway. His favorite muse to paint, of course, is his lovely Lovely. Now their apartment is filled with artwork, both his and from artists the two would visit to get fun art/caricatures from.

Porter: Stargazing. Porter’s current life is hectic and filled with anxiety, so when he can, he likes to go out to Skyside and just stare at the stars. Sometimes, he’ll go with Treasure and point out constellations, explaining the history behind them. On these nights with Treasure, he rests his head in their lap, maybe even naps, and tries to forget about his current life, knowing that despite their hardships, Treasure will be there with him when he wakes up.

Hush: Bird watching! Well, really, Doc was into birdwatching and had asked Hush to look through their photos to find something and he noticed a surprising number of pictures of birds. He didn’t particularly find them fascinating, but how could he miss the way Doc’s eyes lit up when discussing the different species and appearances. Hush doesn’t have a phone, so he’ll just state facts about their appearances to Doc and more often than not, Doc will know exactly which bird it is. It’s become a game between them :)

Ollie: Reading. He successfully got back into reading books before bed. If Baby is especially restless that night, he’ll read a few chapters to then. He especially loves putting on voices. It really adds to the experience and he loves the way the corners of their eyes crinkle in amusement when he does.

BONUS:

Echo: Staring at the wall, doing nothing, being in timeout like he should be.

[rosehipsister]

(low voice) secret samol....

decided to go for a little found materials thing with my sangfielle prompts this year, so it's barely readable haha actual transcripts under the cut because that's a lot to put into alt text

For @aphrddt hope you enjoy it! Thank you @secret-samol

Page 1, marked "5.2" and "Jna -> RvneP -> Ctbk -> Prse" 5:30 train to Perseverance

Mighty excited and grateful (blessing sign) to make my third observation so soon sense the year began. Here's to a great journey and if those gods (blessing sign) willing a striking UMR (Unschola Monthly Review) entry!

(under a sketch of the train emblem) not half bad!! can clean it up back at Mona's

5:29 Left Jahna with a minute to spare. Tough to take the mood in so early, wonder if the Tern has the flighty nature its name suggests. Promised travel time declared 21 hours only, which puts me in Perseverance by nightfall.

Page 2 (next to a scheme of a train car) "Bright Tern Postal, coach car 3" a1, a2 - doors b - windows c - luggage racks Full cherry wood interior with simple glass inlays, light and airy. Four seats per isle, hard seating with roll-up Bright Tern livery cushions affixed every bench.

No sign of a dining car - justified by our size and destination, but still a shame. Yet man can't be picky (blessing sign)

Card included: Train sighting log Day seen: 5th of 2nd month 8xx Place seen: departing from Jahna, Fifth Canton Mandate, Sangfielle Name: Bright Tern Postal Livery: faded cobalt and white Number of carriages: 6 (six) total, with 4 passenger and 2 mail and baggage Boarded: y/n Ticket number if applicable: C3/I2/S3

Page 3 5:55 - drafting for now? After filling out my observation card and taking in the detail, i took a window seat in isle 2 to absorb both the gorgeous scenery of Ojan plains and the bright c (crossed out) airy confines (?) of my train. Bright Tern pamphlet, kindly provided to me at the station, tells the traveler that their person shall be delivered swiftly and safely to Unschola held inns by nightfall. Seasoned ferroequinology fan such as myself in turn knows this ain't always true and schedules are more suggestions than rule.

6:50 Fell asleep promptly despite excitement. Car filled with low relaxed conversation and i can only hope i wasn't snoring like a complete fool.

(next to a sketch of a tea glass holder) akin to burl wood? lightweight and porous to touch

Page 4 Interior unchanged save for three glass holders, such as added to every isle table. I truly am in luck (blessing sign) since I've never seen these in situ before! Why three? Would i have neighbors? Reread my early notes - in need of editing, desperately. SHAPES ON THE TRAIN! 1 masked 1 avian (with arrow pointing from 7:04 timestamp)

7:20, i gather since i had a moment of awe and frankly dared not bring attention to myself at the moment. Yet clearly they do not mind me.

Page 5 Immediately past 7 car visited by a slight ojant. woman of quiet but nasty demeanor wearing Tern colors, heavy tea cart in front, steaming. Was tempted to strike a conversation, but reconsidered. Neither of the Shapes said a word yet. They don't touch the tea either, which is plain silly to me - never have i heard about train foods being nefarious to one's person.

(underlined) No snacks offered yet!

8:40 Insufferable people. Still silent, not even (page break)

Page 6 (page break) a glance in the window. Spent all my patience on detailing one sketch. M. seems to be asleep or sitting terrifyingly still.

8:43 IMPOSSIBLE PEOPLE! Wish they let me be. A. caught me sketching and very rudely grabbed my book. Nearly made me tear a page. If every Shape starts attacking inno- (crossed out) Both are still silent. A. ignored and possibly disrespected my Society badge. Book returned to me moderately crumpled. 9:17 Tern entered a tunnel as we were coming up to the mountain foothills. Terribly intrigued but can't see the devil's arse in there. A. got tired of harassing me and is now fast asleep. M. in turn finally aware of life.

(with arrow pointing at the tea maid sketch) back to our car. for what, just to glower at the shapes?

Page 7 9:20 - still in the dark All curtains rolled down as one! How i wish i knew the mechanism behind this. This further startled an impressionable young man in isle 5, and i admit i was secretly taken with the feeling too, but all were reassured by a returning passenger.

Managed to strike a conversation! Emidio seemed happy to discuss the Tern with me, and i've put a great amount of his observation down in shorthand. Told we're due to arrive at Ravine just some 10 minutes after leaving the tunnel, yet when - varies greatly. Despite being as persistent as i dared, didn't get too much about the dark route we're taking. Hiw can it be that we spend a different time under the peaks QAD and yet make stops with enviable punctuality? My greatest desire is to find any personnel besides the gloomy tea woman, yet not so likely with the Shapes around.

If i am to trust Emidio's words, some of the paper trash rolling under the seats he swears is a rudimentary emdemic life form akin to rootless plants of the west. Still unsure if that's a joke of his.

Page 8 (next to the sketch of a scene) Ravine-Postal 9:50 10:10 Finally back to open sky. Shapes out for a smoke and look almost careless. Sent a postcard back to Society in Jahna. Bought steamed buns of decent taste. Really need to find Emidio and get a good expo for Ravine, but he's nowhere to be found. Way too many insects ouside.

Page 9 10:40 - RvneP -> Cantbank Well, they do talk! Shapes have congratulated me on being through "the worst of it", whatever they meant. Both of them are now quite loud and inconsiderate. A. only laughed when i mentioned his rudeness. I miss the morning quiet.

11:00 Passed a mountain lake which amused us all greatly. At first i thought we're being blinded by the suns, yet the bright shimmer came from dozens of fish, moving through with their sides to the light. A. is particularly taken with the picture.

(next to the sketch) Emidio and the tea maid

Page 10 Spotted Emidio who i started to worry about, since none has seen him since our stop in Ravine. Almost glad to see the tea maid and her cart back in time for the afternoon round.

11:10 - switching tracks? Apparently taking a detour, which everyone is understandable annoyed about. Can't hear even half of the announcement over Shapes as usual. How can M. make so much noise by just walking! Curtains closed back again, so gather i should also walk over and finally as- (text interrupted)