#computer science textbooks

[la-principessa-nuova]

my copy of the gang of four Design Patterns book is signed by 3/4 authors

it was just the random used copy i got when i took Design Patterns in college

[thatcrimsonsun]

me after learning what I literally need to learn to pass an exam one day before the exam: I'm so smart, I love learning, I'm an academic weapon.

[bigleapblog]

Your Guide to B.Tech in Computer Science & Engineering Colleges

In today's technology-driven world, pursuing a B.Tech in Computer Science and Engineering (CSE) has become a popular choice among students aspiring for a bright future. The demand for skilled professionals in areas like Artificial Intelligence, Machine Learning, Data Science, and Cloud Computing has made computer science engineering colleges crucial in shaping tomorrow's innovators. Saraswati College of Engineering (SCOE), a leader in engineering education, provides students with a perfect platform to build a successful career in this evolving field.

Whether you're passionate about coding, software development, or the latest advancements in AI, pursuing a B.Tech in Computer Science and Engineering at SCOE can open doors to endless opportunities.

Why Choose B.Tech in Computer Science and Engineering?

Choosing a B.Tech in Computer Science and Engineering isn't just about learning to code; it's about mastering problem-solving, logical thinking, and the ability to work with cutting-edge technologies. The course offers a robust foundation that combines theoretical knowledge with practical skills, enabling students to excel in the tech industry.

At SCOE, the computer science engineering courses are designed to meet industry standards and keep up with the rapidly evolving tech landscape. With its AICTE Approved, NAAC Accredited With Grade-"A+" credentials, the college provides quality education in a nurturing environment. SCOE's curriculum goes beyond textbooks, focusing on hands-on learning through projects, labs, workshops, and internships. This approach ensures that students graduate not only with a degree but with the skills needed to thrive in their careers.

The Role of Computer Science Engineering Colleges in Career Development

The role of computer science engineering colleges like SCOE is not limited to classroom teaching. These institutions play a crucial role in shaping students' futures by providing the necessary infrastructure, faculty expertise, and placement opportunities. SCOE, established in 2004, is recognized as one of the top engineering colleges in Navi Mumbai. It boasts a strong placement record, with companies like Goldman Sachs, Cisco, and Microsoft offering lucrative job opportunities to its graduates.

The computer science engineering courses at SCOE are structured to provide a blend of technical and soft skills. From the basics of computer programming to advanced topics like Artificial Intelligence and Data Science, students at SCOE are trained to be industry-ready. The faculty at SCOE comprises experienced professionals who not only impart theoretical knowledge but also mentor students for real-world challenges.

Highlights of the B.Tech in Computer Science and Engineering Program at SCOE

Comprehensive Curriculum: The B.Tech in Computer Science and Engineering program at SCOE covers all major areas, including programming languages, algorithms, data structures, computer networks, operating systems, AI, and Machine Learning. This ensures that students receive a well-rounded education, preparing them for various roles in the tech industry.

Industry-Relevant Learning: SCOE’s focus is on creating professionals who can immediately contribute to the tech industry. The college regularly collaborates with industry leaders to update its curriculum, ensuring students learn the latest technologies and trends in computer science engineering.

State-of-the-Art Infrastructure: SCOE is equipped with modern laboratories, computer centers, and research facilities, providing students with the tools they need to gain practical experience. The institution’s infrastructure fosters innovation, helping students work on cutting-edge projects and ideas during their B.Tech in Computer Science and Engineering.

Practical Exposure: One of the key benefits of studying at SCOE is the emphasis on practical learning. Students participate in hands-on projects, internships, and industry visits, giving them real-world exposure to how technology is applied in various sectors.

Placement Support: SCOE has a dedicated placement cell that works tirelessly to ensure students secure internships and job offers from top companies. The B.Tech in Computer Science and Engineering program boasts a strong placement record, with top tech companies visiting the campus every year. The highest on-campus placement offer for the academic year 2022-23 was an impressive 22 LPA from Goldman Sachs, reflecting the college’s commitment to student success.

Personal Growth: Beyond academics, SCOE encourages students to participate in extracurricular activities, coding competitions, and tech fests. These activities enhance their learning experience, promote teamwork, and help students build a well-rounded personality that is essential in today’s competitive job market.

What Makes SCOE Stand Out?

With so many computer science engineering colleges to choose from, why should you consider SCOE for your B.Tech in Computer Science and Engineering? Here are a few factors that make SCOE a top choice for students:

Experienced Faculty: SCOE prides itself on having a team of highly qualified and experienced faculty members. The faculty’s approach to teaching is both theoretical and practical, ensuring students are equipped to tackle real-world challenges.

Strong Industry Connections: The college maintains strong relationships with leading tech companies, ensuring that students have access to internship opportunities and campus recruitment drives. This gives SCOE graduates a competitive edge in the job market.

Holistic Development: SCOE believes in the holistic development of students. In addition to academic learning, the college offers opportunities for personal growth through various student clubs, sports activities, and cultural events.

Supportive Learning Environment: SCOE provides a nurturing environment where students can focus on their academic and personal growth. The campus is equipped with modern facilities, including spacious classrooms, labs, a library, and a recreation center.

Career Opportunities After B.Tech in Computer Science and Engineering from SCOE

Graduates with a B.Tech in Computer Science and Engineering from SCOE are well-prepared to take on various roles in the tech industry. Some of the most common career paths for CSE graduates include:

Software Engineer: Developing software applications, web development, and mobile app development are some of the key responsibilities of software engineers. This role requires strong programming skills and a deep understanding of software design.

Data Scientist: With the rise of big data, data scientists are in high demand. CSE graduates with knowledge of data science can work on data analysis, machine learning models, and predictive analytics.

AI Engineer: Artificial Intelligence is revolutionizing various industries, and AI engineers are at the forefront of this change. SCOE’s curriculum includes AI and Machine Learning, preparing students for roles in this cutting-edge field.

System Administrator: Maintaining and managing computer systems and networks is a crucial role in any organization. CSE graduates can work as system administrators, ensuring the smooth functioning of IT infrastructure.

Cybersecurity Specialist: With the growing threat of cyberattacks, cybersecurity specialists are essential in protecting an organization’s digital assets. CSE graduates can pursue careers in cybersecurity, safeguarding sensitive information from hackers.

Conclusion: Why B.Tech in Computer Science and Engineering at SCOE is the Right Choice

Choosing the right college is crucial for a successful career in B.Tech in Computer Science and Engineering. Saraswati College of Engineering (SCOE) stands out as one of the best computer science engineering colleges in Navi Mumbai. With its industry-aligned curriculum, state-of-the-art infrastructure, and excellent placement record, SCOE offers students the perfect environment to build a successful career in computer science.

Whether you're interested in AI, data science, software development, or any other field in computer science, SCOE provides the knowledge, skills, and opportunities you need to succeed. With a strong focus on hands-on learning and personal growth, SCOE ensures that students graduate not only as engineers but as professionals ready to take on the challenges of the tech world.

If you're ready to embark on an exciting journey in the world of technology, consider pursuing your B.Tech in Computer Science and Engineering at SCOE—a college where your future takes shape.

[philearning]

SOFTWARE DESIGN, ARCHITECTURE AND ENGINEERING : CONCEPTS AND PRACTICE by P.C.P Bhatt

We are proud to introduce our bestselling textbook SOFTWARE DESIGN, ARCHITECTURE & ENGINEERING. Perfect for Computer Science, Engineering, and Information Technology enthusiasts!

Key Features:

Comprehensive Curriculum

Theoretical & Practical Balance

Real-world Case Studies

Ideal for students and practitioners

Expand your software design horizons with our textbook. Learn from the expert and mentor in the field. Order your copy today! Link: http://social.phindia.com/WGX5ZeJ3

[chatdomestique]

Reading the chapter on the logic of compound statements and my semantic ass is about to become insufferable

[rosieuv]

College started

I had to wake up at 6:30 for the first time in like 2 months and dug up my blazer jacket that I bought for prom and paired it with a white summer shirt, a yellow hoodie, light grey jeans and a tie I nicked from my dad and had to watch a youtube video just to figure out how to tie it. I don't know why the blazer looks grey and crumpled in the photo, in real life it's turquoise and has less noticeable creases in it. Mum now sees what I mean when I say that hoodies, ties and blazers go well together. God it got hot while walking though but it was worth it in the name of style.

I also had a packed lunch for the first time as keyboard lessons were more expensive due to them being twice as long so buying hot lunches was chucked out of the budget. I made a cheese bagel sandwich with mozzarella slices and packed it in a bag with a little pancake, 4 crackers, a little brownie and a banana that I didn't eat because it had been waiting for so long that it was going brown. I didn't think about how all the food would sit so everything that wasn't in the sandwich bag (the sandwich) had a faint taste of banana. I also bought a packet of crisps at the college's cafe as I was still a bit hungry afterwards so maybe I should figure that out.

I walked 20 minutes and across a roundabout to reach my new bus stop and a new bus came every 15 minutes so I didn't bother mesmerising the timetable. Luckily I live quite close so the journey only took like 35 minutes and I was an hour early and didn't know what to do. Very few students were there and I was mostly looking for the library so I could vibe until I had A-Level Music. After a google search I found the building but turns out it's being moved to some other building (there's like 8 buildings across 2 sides of a road and it resembles a uni campus) so I just drew in the study centre by myself for about half an hour. Someone I knew (kinda) from my old school came up to me to say hello. I walked over to the building with music in but ended up a couple minutes late as I was washing my hands when the bell went off and I though "oh it's the warning bell" when no, no it wasn't. The teacher didn't seem to care considering it's the first day.

The lessons are so much longer here. So long that in the middle there was a 15 minute break. I didn't really have anywhere better to be so I remained in the classroom drawing. There seems to be a lot of emphasis on performance but I kinda suck at preforming. At least A-Level also has composition. I had to leave in the last half hour though to go to an orthodontist appointment and I left when they were talking about intervals and intervals are cool and now I have to do catch up work just because my teeth jewellery needed tightening.

I ate my lunch at a table all by myself in the student commons room and I don't know if all the groups already knew each other or if this was a case of extroverts having good social skills, but almost everyone was sitting in a group. One of the teachers talked to me when I was eating my bagel. Nothing deep just general new school small talk. He said I'll find new friends due to the way classes are structured around A-levels, which you choose yourself so there's a common interest, but tbh I'm probably just going to be known as that weird quiet kid that knows way too much on video game consoles. I don't mind not having any friends my entire time there, but when you've been stuck in an all girls private school since you were a toddler to now, it shelters you and I want to not be that as I'll have one hell of a shock once I enter the real world and/or act like a snob unintentionally. Eh, whatever. I bought the aforementioned crisps in beef flavoured and it was mostly air dammit. I then did my music homework in one of the practice rooms so I could test the musical dictation on the piano. I then just started playing whatever and some girl hovered around my door so I let her in and apparently she could hear me blasting my music because I have no dynamic control on a piano and she said that she really liked it. Then my music teacher appeared and I said I was doing my homework, and then they both left. Someone was playing some ballad piano song (I assume it's the girl as it sounds like it's coming from the other room) which would occasionally change to fur elise. Then I still had some time left but I was bored so after asking a history teacher for directions on where the mac lab is, I went into Music Technology like 10 minutes early and was just fiddling with the mac until everyone else came in. (Music tech is a BTEC which is a different exam board and is more DAW stuff while Music A-Level is performance and theory. I was supposed to be doing Computer Science but I fucked up my exam because OCR sucks the devil's ass while marking so I didn't have the qualifications so the careers people suggested music tech as the 3rd subject and oh god I'm so thankful as I'm certain my college uses OCR for it's A Levels and I would rip my wrists open and develop a caffeine addiction if I had to deal with OCR again).

The actual lesson was interesting but I was the only one putting my hand up most of the time and also I've already used a DAW before (LMMS) so I picked up on how to use Logic Pro quicker than the others (I think, idk I was sitting by myself on an empty row) but Logic Pro has cool sounds that I want in a soundfont, but is full of little things that makes it a bit annoying. And mac. Mac OS is annoying. I wasn't really following the instructions and was mostly doing my own thing in Logic Pro. Use this plugin to automatically augment a bassline? Nah I'm going to keep pressing keys with this acoustic bass sound until I get a cool bassline. I stayed for half an hour afterwards to finish the song as it was cool and this is what I did:

There was also theory stuff too. In groups we had to type out a list of places you find music and I just ignored the people in my group and wrote my own list. Also music kept randomly playing and the teacher couldn't figure out where it was coming from so I listed "the poltergeist from the mac lab" as one place music comes from. After that I took the bus home and now I'm going to watch the 2nd Deadpool film because I'm tired and don't feel like doing anything but sit in my chair and morph into it.

[naijabullet]

JAMB Syllabus for All UTME Subjects 2024/2025

In this post, you will find links to all the updated JAMB Syllabus for All UTME Subjects in 2024. All you have to do is select the subject of choice and view the detailed JAMB syllabus. While you are viewing the latest JAMB Syllabus for All UTME Subjects in 2024, take some time to read JAMB Recommended Textbooks for Art Students 2024/2025 Session and also the JAMB Recommended Textbooks for…

[mathexamhelper-tutor]

[assignmentwritingservicesblog]

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[gyuuberryy]

fatal trouble

pairing: vampire!sunghoon x reader

synopsis: your roommate is hot. really really hot. and odd too. really really odd. after a strange experience with him, you slowly start distancing yourself from him. but, it becomes exceptionally hard with your feelings coming in the way. how are you supposed to protect yourself if you can’t resist him? the answer is you don’t need to. your fates are intertwined and there's no letting go.

genre: roommates to lovers, vampire au, soulmate au

warnings: suggestive content, mentions of nightmares and blood, jealous!sunghoon, 

note: dropping this before i go on hiatus for a month due to school work. i haven't proofread it that well i hope there are no mistakes. also im obsessed with vampire aus, enhablr needs more of them fr!! i hope you enjoy reading this!

word count: 6k

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

the soft glow of your laptop screen illuminated your face, casting long shadows across sunghoon's pristine white sheets. you were sprawled out on his bed, legs crossed beneath you, surrounded by a chaotic scatter of textbooks and papers. the quiet hum of the air conditioner filled the room, broken only by the intermittent clicks of your keyboard.

sunghoon sat at his desk, a silhouette against the darkened room, save for the focused beam of his desk lamp. his fingers danced across the keyboard with an almost rhythmic precision, the soft glow of the screen reflecting in his dark eyes. you’d grown accustomed to the sight of him engrossed in his work, a solitary figure lost in the world of ones and zeros.

you’d known each other for a few months now, the kind of acquaintance born out of shared living space and the occasional group project. as roommates sharing the same major, your apartment had become a de facto study hub. computer science had thrown you together more often than not, and tonight was no exception. 

“hey, did you get the part about the algorithm?” your voice, a whisper in the quiet, cut through the comfortable silence.

sunghoon glanced up, his eyes a deep, almost unnatural shade of red in the dim light. for a moment, you were struck by how different he looked compared to the daylight. “yeah, i think so. isn’t it something about minimising the time complexity?”

you nodded, your eyes scanning the code on your screen. “exactly. i’m just having trouble with the implementation.”

a comfortable silence settled over the room as you both focused on your respective screens. the only sound was the rhythmic tapping of keys and the occasional sigh of frustration. you glanced up at sunghoon, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of his monitor. his long, slender fingers moved with an almost hypnotic grace across the keyboard.

there was something undeniably attractive about his focused intensity. his features, normally sharp and aloof, softened slightly when he was engrossed in his work. it was a side of him you rarely saw, and it was oddly captivating.

you shook your head, mentally scolding yourself for such thoughts. he was your roommate, nothing more. and besides, there was no way he could be interested in someone like you.

“hey,” sunghoon’s voice cut through your reverie, “i think i figured it out.”

you blinked, startled. “oh, really? want to explain it?”

he nodded, sliding his chair back and standing up. he walked over to your side of the bed, his tall frame looming over you. as he leaned in to point at your screen, his scent washed over you – a subtle blend of wood and something else, almost sweet, that you couldn’t quite place.

you felt a strange warmth creeping up your neck as he hovered over you. his proximity was unnerving, yet strangely intoxicating. you swallowed hard, trying to focus on the code in front of you.

sunghoon's breath was warm against your ear as he leaned in closer, his voice a low rumble, "try this." his finger hovered over your keyboard, about to demonstrate.

you felt a shiver run down your spine, not from the cool night air but from the inexplicable sensation of being so close to him. his scent, a mix of something woodsy and faintly sweet, was intoxicating. you tried to focus on the code, to ignore the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

he typed a few lines, his fingers brushing against yours. the contact sent a jolt of electricity through you. you forced yourself to concentrate on the screen, trying to understand the changes he made.

"see?" he said, straightening up. "it's simpler this way."

you nodded, still reeling from the physical contact. "thanks," you managed to say, your voice barely a whisper.

sunghoon stepped back, a small smile playing on his lips. "no problem," he said, turning back to his own computer.

you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. it was just sunghoon, your roommate. nothing more. but the way he had acted, the way he had touched you, it was making it hard to think of him that way.

the room was quiet again, the only sounds the soft clacking of keyboards and the occasional rustle of paper. you were deep in thought, trying to wrap your head around a particularly complex problem when a question popped into your head. on impulse, you asked, “so, sunghoon, what do you do in your free time, when you’re not, you know, studying?”

sunghoon paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. a flicker of something, perhaps surprise or amusement, passed across his face before he responded smoothly, “free time is a luxury for a computer science student, don’t you think? but when i do find a spare moment, i usually spend it reading or exploring new coding languages.”

his answer was polite, but it felt rehearsed, as if he'd prepared a response for just such a question. a sense of curiosity sparked within you. you’d always thought sunghoon was a bit of an enigma, but this was a new level of intrigue.

curiosity, a persistent itch, prodded you to ask something more than just about schoolwork.

“hey, i was curious about this” you started, your voice barely audible over the hum of the air conditioner, “where are you from?” it was a simple question, one you would normally ask any new acquaintance, but there was something about sunghoon that made you curious about his past.

he paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. for a moment, there was a stillness in the room that was almost palpable. then, with a casual shrug, he replied, "oh, just a small town. nothing interesting." the response was swift, deflecting your question with ease.

confused, you returned to your code, but your mind was racing. there was something off about sunghoon, something that had intrigued you from the moment you met him. you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but there were strange little details that had started to accumulate.

there were those odd instances – like the time you'd woken up in the middle of the night to find the kitchen light on and sunghoon standing at the counter, completely motionless, his eyes glowing an eerie red. or the way he seemed to have an uncanny ability to appear and disappear without a sound. and then there was the peculiar lack of a reflection in any mirror in his room.

these memories surfaced, sharp and clear, as if your brain was piecing together a puzzle it didn't know existed. you shook your head, dismissing the thoughts as overactive imagination. after all, sunghoon was just your roommate, a fellow computer science student. nothing more, nothing less.

a yawn escaped your lips as you stretched, the late hour finally catching up with you. “i think i’m going to call it a night,” you announced, rubbing your eyes. the weight of the unanswered questions about sunghoon was beginning to feel heavy.

sunghoon nodded, his gaze fixed on the computer screen. “alright, good night then. i’ll probably stay up a bit longer.”

you nodded in response, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. as you stood up, you glanced down at the floor. something was off. the soft glow from sunghoon’s computer cast long shadows on the floor, including a distinct one from his chair. but there was no shadow of sunghoon himself. the spot where his shadow should have been was empty, an inky void against the illuminated floor.

a chill ran down your spine. your heart pounded in your ears. your mind raced, trying to come up with a logical explanation, but nothing made sense. you snatched up your bag, your movements jerky and panicked. without a second thought, you fled back to your room, the door slamming shut behind you. you fumbled with the lock, your hands trembling. only when you heard the satisfying click of the lock did you allow yourself to breathe.

your heart pounded in your ears as you leaned against the cool metal of your door. the realisation of what you had seen was slowly sinking in. no human lacked a shadow. it was impossible. a chill ran down your spine.

you tried to rationalise it away. maybe there was a draft, or a trick of the light. but deep down, you knew better. something was profoundly wrong, and it was connected to sunghoon. the friendly, quiet roommate you thought you knew was now shrouded in an unsettling mystery.

you glanced at the clock. it was late, and exhaustion was starting to creep in. you needed to sleep, to clear your head. but how could you sleep with this looming over you? you decided to distract yourself by pulling out a book from your shelf, hoping the words would drown out the unsettling thoughts.

as you turned the pages, your mind kept drifting back to sunghoon. his unusual behaviour, the absence of his shadow, it all fit together into a terrifying puzzle. you tried to shake off the feeling, but it was like a persistent itch you couldn't scratch.

sleep finally claimed you, but it was restless. your dreams were filled with shadows, long and menacing, closing in on you. you woke up with a start, your heart racing. the first light of dawn was filtering through your curtains. you got out of bed and went to the window. the world outside looked ordinary, peaceful. but you knew the truth was far from it.

something was wrong with sunghoon, and you were determined to find out what.

the days following your unsettling discovery were a blur of forced normalcy. you tried to interact with sunghoon as if nothing was amiss, but the weight of your knowledge cast a long shadow over your interactions. you found yourself avoiding his gaze, your voice trembling when you spoke to him.

sunghoon seemed oblivious to your discomfort at first. he’d always been a quiet person, so his reserved nature didn’t raise any immediate suspicion. however, as the days turned into weeks, his patience began to wear thin.

"hey, are you free to study together tomorrow?" he asked one evening as you were both making dinner. his tone was casual, but you could detect a hint of underlying disappointment.

your heart skipped a beat. you’d been avoiding his study invitations, coming up with increasingly elaborate excuses. the truth hung heavy in the air, a tangible thing between you. you hesitated, your mind racing.

"i... i’m really busy tomorrow," you stammered, your voice barely audible. "maybe next week?"

disappointment flashed across sunghoon’s face before he masked it with a forced smile. "sure, no problem," he replied, his voice flat.

as he turned away, you couldn't shake the feeling of guilt. you'd hurt him, and you knew it.

the night was a descent into terror. you dreamt of shadows, long and menacing, closing in on you. sunghoon was there, but not as you knew him. his eyes burned with an unnatural light, and his form was distorted, monstrous. you were running, but your legs were leaden, and the shadows were gaining on you. a scream built in your throat, but no sound escaped.

you woke with a start, drenched in sweat. your heart pounded like a drumbeat in your chest. panic washed over you as you gasped for air. you were disoriented, unsure of where you were. a noise from the living room startled you, and you jumped out of bed.

the light was on, and there, standing in the doorway, was sunghoon, his face etched with concern. before you could react, you found yourself lunging at him, your hands grasping at his neck. he didn't fight back, instead, he held you tightly, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

your sobs racked your body as you clung to him, finding solace in his warmth. he shushed you softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. gradually, your breathing began to slow, and your body relaxed.

when you finally calmed down, sunghoon gently guided you back to bed. he sat on the edge, running a comforting hand through your hair. you clung to him, your fear slowly dissipating.

in the quiet that followed, you felt a strange urge to confide in him. your voice was barely a whisper when you began, "i dreamt of you... as something... different."

sunghoon stiffened, but his grip on you didn't loosen. something flashed behind his eyes, but he listened intently as you recounted the terrifying details of your nightmare. when you finished, he was silent for a long moment. finally, he whispered, "go back to sleep," and you felt him lean down to kiss your forehead.

with that, he quietly left the room, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

the days that followed were a careful ballet of avoidance. you moved through your days with a practised detachment, constructing an invisible wall between yourself and sunghoon. the weight of your decision pressed down on you like a physical burden. despite the burgeoning crush that had blossomed in the quiet corners of your heart, you'd created a formidable wall between yourself and sunghoon. his enigmatic nature, coupled with the unsettling discoveries you'd made, had convinced you to keep him at arm's length. it was a lonely existence, a self-imposed exile that offered a semblance of safety.

your days were a monotonous cycle of lectures, assignments, and solitary meals. you'd found solace in the company of your classmate, lee heeseung, his cheerful demeanour a stark contrast to the storm raging within you. yet, even as you laughed and shared stories with him, a part of you longed for the quiet intensity of sunghoon's presence.

in the vast, impersonal lecture hall, you’d sought refuge in the anonymity of the crowd. but even here, you couldn't escape the weight of your decision. a persistent sense of being watched gnawed at you, a constant reminder of the eyes that followed your every move. and you knew very well who it was. it was during one such lecture that the tension reached a breaking point.

you were engrossed in your notes when a subtle shift in the atmosphere caught your attention. a cold prickle ran down your spine as you slowly turned your head. there, in the row behind you, sat sunghoon, his gaze fixed intently on you. his expression was a complex interplay of emotions - longing, pain, and a flicker of something darker.

your heart pounded in your chest as a wave of guilt washed over you. you'd hurt him, pushed him away without a second thought. in that moment, as his eyes held yours, you realised the depth of your own cowardice.

not to mention, with each passing night your nightmares had intensified. each night a descent into a darker, more terrifying realm. sleep, once a refuge, had transformed into a battlefield, leaving you exhausted and on edge. the physical toll was evident - dark circles shadowed your eyes, and your skin had started to take on a sickly pallor.

despite your deteriorating condition, you continued to maintain your distance from sunghoon. guilt gnawed at you, but fear held you captive. yet, in the aftermath of each nightmare, you found yourself seeking solace in his presence. he’d sit by your bed his silent vigil a comforting anchor in the storm of your nightmares. his touch, gentle and reassuring, had become a lifeline, pulling you back from the brink of despair.

one particularly harrowing night, you woke up screaming, your body drenched in sweat. sunghoon was by your side almost instantly, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. as your fear subsided, you began to recount the nightmare, your voice trembling.

"i... i dreamt of a place," you managed to say, your words halting. "a dark place, with... with strange symbols."

sunghoon's grip tightened around you. "and you were alone," he finished for you, his voice low and soothing.

your eyes widened in shock. how could he know what you had dreamt about? you hadn’t even managed to complete your story. yet, sunghoon had described it perfectly, as if he had been there with you.

a chill ran down your spine. you pulled away from him, your eyes filled with fear and confusion. sunghoon simply looked at you, his expression unreadable, before turning and leaving the room.

what did this mean? how could sunghoon know about your nightmares? the answers were as elusive as ever, but one thing was certain: the line between the ordinary and the extraordinary was blurring, and you were caught in the crossfire.

the nightmares ceased as abruptly as they had begun. you woke each morning feeling refreshed, the spectre of terror finally lifted from your shoulders. a sense of relief washed over you, but it was tinged with a strange melancholy. the nightly visits from sunghoon, a comforting ritual amidst the chaos, were now absent.

initially, you welcomed the return to normalcy. the constant fear and exhaustion had taken a toll on you, and the ability to sleep soundly was a precious gift. but as days turned into weeks, a nagging sense of unease crept in. sunghoon's absence, once a welcome respite, now felt like a void.

you started noticing subtle changes in him. his eyes, once bright and alert, were now shadowed by dark circles. his once sharp features seemed softened by fatigue. it was as if a weight was pressing down on him, a burden he carried alone.

a pang of guilt struck you. perhaps your avoidance had contributed to his deteriorating condition. you wanted to reach out, to offer support, but fear held you back. what if your presence only made things worse? what if you discovered something terrifying?

you longed to reach out to him, to offer solace and support, but the words remained trapped in your throat. the fear of rejection, of further pushing him away, paralyzed you. it was a cruel irony that the person you yearned to comfort was the one causing you the most pain. 

the afternoon sun beat down on the bustling campus as you made your way towards the nearest convenience store. the promise of a refreshing popsicle was the only thing that could lure you away from the confines of your dorm room. with a popsicle clutched in your hand, you emerged from the store, ready to face the world, one frozen treat at a time.

just as you were about to savour the first bite, heeseung materialised beside you, his infectious grin lighting up his face. "arcade?" he suggested, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. you nodded, the prospect of a distraction proving too tempting to resist.

you split the popsicle down the middle, the sweet, icy treat a welcome respite from the oppressive heat. as you handed one half to heeseung, a strange sensation washed over you. it was as if a cold draft had swept across your skin, a shiver that had nothing to do with the melting popsicle in your hand.

instinctively, you turned around, your heart pounding in your chest. there, on the other side of the road, stood sunghoon, his figure cast in the harsh sunlight. his eyes, usually guarded, were fixed on you with an intensity that bordered on hostility. a scowl marred his usually indifferent features, and his jaw was clenched tightly.

you offered a timid smile, a feeble attempt to bridge the chasm between you. but his gaze remained unwavering, cold and unforgiving. with a final, contemptuous glance, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

a wave of guilt and confusion washed over you. you'd hurt him, you knew that. but the intensity of his reaction was unexpected, almost frightening. as you turned back to heeseung, you forced a smile, determined to push the unsettling encounter to the back of your mind.

the encounter with sunghoon left a bitter taste in your mouth. his hostile glare had shattered the fragile peace you'd been cultivating. as you and heeseung made your way to the arcade, your mind raced, trying to decipher the meaning behind sunghoon's outburst. had your avoidance pushed him to the brink? or was there something more sinister at play?

the arcade, with its flashing lights and the cacophony of sound, offered a temporary escape from the turmoil within. you lost yourself in the rhythm of the games, the competitive spirit temporarily drowning out the unsettling incident. yet, even as you laughed and cheered with heeseung, your mind kept drifting back to sunghoon, his angry gaze burning into your memory.

as the afternoon wore on, a sense of unease settled over you. the carefree atmosphere of the arcade couldn't mask the growing storm within. the incident with sunghoon had opened a wound, a raw and painful reminder of the complex dynamics between you.

you glanced at heeseung, his laughter infectious, and felt a pang of guilt. he was doing everything to lift your spirits, to distract you from your troubles. but your mind was elsewhere, trapped in a labyrinth of doubt and fear.

the walk back to your dorm was a solitary affair. the campus, usually bustling with activity, seemed deserted. with each step, the weight of your worries grew heavier. the encounter with sunghoon had forced you to confront the reality of the situation. you couldn't continue to bury your head in the sand, hoping that the problem would resolve itself.

the weight of the day pressed down on you as you unlocked the apartment door. exhaustion tugged at your limbs, but the lingering unease from your encounter with sunghoon kept your mind racing. 

as you stepped into the living room, a jolt of surprise ran through you. sunghoon was standing in the kitchen, his silhouette outlined by the soft glow of the refrigerator.

there was an unnatural stillness to him, a predatory calm that sent a shiver down your spine. his eyes, when they met yours, held a strange intensity, a glint of something dangerous lurking beneath the surface. "fancy seeing you here," he said, his voice low and measured.

you forced a smile, your heart pounding in your chest. "just got back," you replied, your voice barely a whisper.

he approached you slowly, his steps deliberate. "we have that new assignment," he began, his voice low and seductive. "maybe we could work on it together tomorrow?"

your mind raced, trying to come up with an excuse. "i'm... i'm pretty busy," you stammered, avoiding his gaze.

sunghoon's expression darkened. with a swift movement, he closed the distance between you, cornering you against the kitchen counter, his hands grabbing your hips. his proximity was unnerving, his scent, a mix of wood and something faintly sweet, filling your senses. you could feel his breath on your skin, hot and heavy. 

"don't lie to me," he hissed, his voice low and menacing. "i know what's going on."

his grip tightened around you, and you winced. 

"it's nothing," you insisted, your voice trembling. "just... busy."

"busy with heeseung?" he spat out, his jealousy evident in his tone. his eyes narrowed, and you could see the anger simmering beneath the surface.

your face flushed with embarrassment. he was taking this the wrong way. “it’s not like that,” you stammered, your voice barely a whisper.

sunghoon's grip tightened, pinning you against the cool surface of the counter. his breath was warm against your skin, and a strange sensation, a mix of fear and excitement, coursed through your veins.

“don’t lie to me,” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “you're avoiding me.”

you didn't know why, but the power dynamic between you and sunghoon was intoxicating. he had never behaved this way before let alone showcase jealousy so blatantly. it was hot. you felt a blush creeping up your cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. 

before you could respond, you found yourself leaning in, your lips brushing against his. it was an impulsive act, a desperate attempt to silence him, to end the confrontation. but, to your surprise, he responded, his lips moving against yours with a gentle intensity.

the world seemed to slow down as the kiss deepened. but as quickly as it had begun, it ended. you pulled away, your heart pounding in your chest.

overwhelmed by a rush of emotions, you turned and fled to your room, slamming the door behind you. you leaned against the door, panting, your mind racing. 

the realisation of what you had done hit you like a tidal wave. you had kissed your roommate, a person you were actively avoiding due to a growing sense of fear and unease. the implications of your actions were terrifying. you'd crossed a line, a boundary you had carefully constructed to protect yourself.

a series of frantic knocks on the door jolted you out of your stupor. it was sunghoon, his voice muffled through the wood. "open up, please," he pleaded. your heart pounded in your chest. you couldn't face him now. you needed time to process what had happened, to regain control of the situation.

the knocking continued for a few minutes before finally ceasing. silence enveloped the room, heavy and oppressive. you slid down the door, your body trembling. what had you done?

morning arrived with a sense of foreboding. the thought of facing sunghoon filled you with dread, but the need to uncover the truth was stronger. you waited until the sound of his footsteps faded down the hallway, a sign that he had left for his morning jog.

with a deep breath, you crept into sunghoon's room, a sense of trepidation gnawing at you. the room was immaculate, a stark contrast to the chaos that often reigned in your own space. everything had its place, every surface spotless. there were no hidden compartments, no secret drawers, no clues to the enigmatic man who inhabited this space.

disappointment washed over you. you'd hoped to find something, anything that would explain the strange occurrences, the unsettling behaviour. but the room held no secrets, only a sense of emptiness.

your eyes scanned the room, searching for any hidden compartments or secret passages. everything seemed ordinary, almost mundane. disappointment was beginning to creep in when your gaze fell on a small cabinet tucked beneath sunghoon's desk. it was always locked, a tantalising enigma that had piqued your curiosity countless times.

today, however, there was a change. a key was lodged in the lock, an open invitation to delve into the forbidden. a wave of hesitation washed over you. you were invading his privacy, crossing a line you had sworn never to cross. but the allure of the unknown was too strong. curiosity, like a relentless tide, pulled you forward.

with trembling hands, you grasped the key and turned it. the lock clicked open with a satisfyingly smooth sound. you slid open the cabinet door, your heart pounding in your chest. a mini-fridge, small and unassuming, greeted you. a wave of relief washed over you. so this was the secret? a hidden stash of snacks?

you reached out to open the fridge door, a smirk playing on your lips. but as the cool air enveloped you, your blood ran cold.

inside, lined up neatly on the shelves, were rows of blood bags. the crimson liquid glinted in the dim light, a chilling contrast to the sterile white plastic. the sight was so surreal, so utterly horrifying, that for a moment, you thought you were hallucinating.

your mind went blank. a wave of nausea washed over you as you stared at the horrifying contents of the fridge. this couldn't be real. this was a nightmare, a twisted hallucination. but the cold, hard truth stared back at you, undeniable and terrifying.

the world tilted as your legs gave way, sending you crashing to the knees. blood bags. sunghoon kept blood bags. your roommate, the seemingly normal guy you knew, was a… vampire? the very concept seemed absurd, ripped from the pages of a fantasy novel. yet, the evidence sat before you, a stark reality that defied logic.

panic clawed at your throat, but a desperate hope flickered within you. maybe it was a medical condition. maybe he had a strange blood fetish. anything but a vampire!

"vampires don't exist, do they?", you mutter to yourself still in shock.

"yes, they do," a low voice confirmed, sending a tremor through your entire body. you spun around, scream caught in your throat. sunghoon stood in the doorway, his face unreadable, his eyes a bottomless well of emotions.

shame washed over you in a tidal wave. you felt exposed, not just for snooping, but for the fear and disgust that clouded your mind.

jumping out the window, a ridiculous notion moments ago, now seemed like the only way out. here, trapped in this surreal nightmare, your only escape seemed to be a dramatic leap from the fourth floor. it wouldn't kill you, right? you’d only break a few bones at best, which you were absolutely okay with. 

with a burst of adrenaline, you scrambled to your feet and bolted towards the window, desperation fueling your actions. but before you could reach the latch, a hand clamped around your waist, pulling you back with an iron grip. "don't even think about it," sunghoon's voice was a low growl, the air crackling with unspoken emotions.

you were pinned against his chest, his warmth a stark contrast to the chilling terror that gripped you. his eyes, no longer cold and distant, burned with a mix of anger and concern.

his words hung in the air, a stark contrast to the wildness of your actions. you struggled against his hold, your fear fueling your resistance. but there was an undeniable strength in him, a power that held you captive.

"please, let me go," you gasped, your voice trembling.

sunghoon's grip loosened slightly, and he took a step back. his eyes held a mixture of concern and something else, something you couldn't quite decipher. "i won't hurt you," he said, his voice soft. "i need to explain."

your eyes met his, a mixture of fear and confusion swirling in their depths. sunghoon seemed to read your mind, his expression softening as he took a step closer. he sighed, a heavy exhale that seemed to carry the weight of centuries.

"i know this is a lot to take in," he began, his voice low and steady. "but i need you to trust me."

you nodded, your mind racing. there was something about his tone, a vulnerability beneath the hardened exterior, that compelled you to listen.

"i'm a vampire," he said, the words hanging heavy in the air. "it's not how i wanted things to be, but it's the reality i've been forced to live with."

he paused, his eyes searching your face for any signs of revulsion. but to your surprise, a strange sense of calm washed over you. this was the answer, the missing piece to the puzzle.

he went on to explain his existence, the centuries of solitude, and the desperate hope that had brought him to you. he talked about the blood bags, a necessary evil to sustain his life.

he continued, his voice laced with a hint of vulnerability. "i’ve been alone for so long. i've tried to live a normal life, to blend in. and then i met you."

his gaze softened, a tender look replacing the earlier intensity. "you're my anchor, my reason to keep going. your nightmares, the ones you've been having, are a connection between us. we share them, a soulmate bond, if you will. it's the only way for me to experience human emotions, to feel truly alive."

the revelation was mind-boggling. a vampire? your soulmate? it was a story straight out of a gothic novel. yet, as he spoke, a sense of peace washed over you. there was a truth in his eyes, a vulnerability that resonated with your own.

without thinking, you reached out and hugged him. your arms wrapped around him, offering comfort and acceptance. he froze, surprised by your sudden embrace.

"i don't care," you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest. "i'll figure it out. we'll figure it out together."

he returned the hug, his arms tightening around you. his face was buried in your neck, his breath warm against your skin. you could feel his heart pounding against your chest, a rhythm that mirrored your own. in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his embrace, fear and confusion faded, replaced by a sense of hope and possibility.

"i'm so sorry about the nightmares," he murmured, his voice filled with regret. "i stopped sleeping for a while, trying to find a way to stop them. i hated seeing you scared, all because of me."

your heart ached for him. he had sacrificed his own well-being to protect you. anger and concern warred within you. how could he be so selfless, so reckless? you pushed against his chest, needing to see his face, to read the emotions swirling in his eyes.

"don't be stupid," you scolded, your voice stern. "you can't just stop sleeping."

you gently pushed against his chest, trying to create some distance between you. you needed to see his face, to gauge his sincerity.

"stop," he whined, his voice laced with playful annoyance. "just stay like this for a little longer."

his words were a stark contrast to the seriousness of the situation, but they had the desired effect. you froze, your body responding to the unexpected shift in tone. sunghoon's grip tightened around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. his lips brushed against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. the warmth of his breath mingled with the scent of his skin, creating an intoxicating blend that clouded your senses.

you were caught in a whirlwind of emotions, fear and confusion replaced by a growing sense of intimacy. the line between platonic comfort and something more was blurring, and you were dangerously close to crossing it.

his voice dropped to a low octave, a husky rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "i can't stop thinking about how your lips felt against mine last night," he confessed, his breath warm against your skin. he pulled back, his eyes holding yours, a mischievous glint in their depths. 

"can we do that again?" he asked, his voice laced with playful arrogance.

before you could respond, his lips were on yours, claiming your mouth with a fierce urgency. the kiss was a whirlwind, a tempest of emotions and sensations. his tongue explored your mouth, demanding entrance, while your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. the kiss was different from the one you had shared the night before, filled with a newfound urgency and intensity. his tongue explored your mouth, a dance of desire and longing. you could feel the heat radiating from his body, a warmth that was both intoxicating and terrifying.

his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer. with a swift movement, he lifted you onto the bed, his lips trailing a path of fire down your neck. he nuzzled your skin, his breath creating a tingling sensation. "you smell so good," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "i had to stop myself from pouncing on you the first time i saw you." 

"from now on, you're sleeping in my bed," he declared, his voice firm. "i need to make sure those nightmares don't come back. and besides, i like having you close."

as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. in this moment, with sunghoon holding you close, everything else seemed to fade away. the line between reality and fantasy blurred, replaced by a single, undeniable truth: you were in the arms of a vampire, and you were dangerously close to falling in love.

his lips trailed down your neck, with such heat that it left you breathless. he nibbled at your skin, his teeth gently scraping against your sensitive flesh. the sensation was both painful and exhilarating, a heady mix of fear and desire. you gasped, your body arching involuntarily. 

"i'm not going to bite you," he promised, his voice laced with a hint of mischief. 

"not yet, at least."

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[rafeandonlyrafe]

in the quiet section

words: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ only, established relationship, college!au, smut, p in v sex, semi public sex, caught, unprotected sex

“i didn't even know this part of the library existed.” rafe looks around at the tall bookshelves holding various very large textbooks.

“it's all the polisci books, hence why no one is over here.” you say as you move deeper into the section, to the isolated grouping of tables. you knew you already got lucky convincing your boyfriend to study, you don't want to push your luck by having him get annoyed with other students watching him.

rafe sets his computer bag down and pulls out his laptop, putting his back to the windows so he can keep an eye down the aisles of books, just in case anyone comes wandering by.

“okay.” you sit down next to him, pulling your chair closer. “i know your physics class is hard, but i also suck at physics so i don't know how much help studying im gonna be.”

“just having you here…” rafe trails off. you feel a flush come to your cheeks, rafe always managing to give you butterflies even though you've been together on and off since high school.

“okay.” you clear your throat, knowing you don't really need to be quiet with no one around. only the top floor of the library ever manages to stay silent, all the serious studiers know to immediately take the elevator up. “let's get started on the study guide i got from tiffy.”

your friend had a friend who had a friend who took the same physics class rafe is taking, and of course you convinced them to give you some study materials. it's not like you had to work hard, with rafes reputation on campus being what it is.

rafe nods and turns his attention to the crisp stapled together papers. you work with him through the questions, learning yourself as well for when you have to eventually take the class, wishing you chose a degree that didn't require so much natural science.

your focus shifts between sneaking looks at rafe and helping him, his brow furrowed and jaw hard set as he studies, making him look even more handsome than you thought possible.

“baby-” rafe groans, resorting to a pet name to get your full attention as you blink harshly. “you're distracting me.”

“you're the one being distracting.” you argue back, placing your elbow on the table and resting your chin in your hand, admiring your boyfriend unabashedly now that you've been caught.

“you're the one sitting there with that look on your face.”

“what look?” you hum out, lost in the thought of ripping rafes pants down and-

“that look.” rafe groans. “that fuck me look.”

“well i do want you to fuck me.” you smirk. “i always do.”

“shit.” rafe leans back in his chair, and your eyes naturally move down his defined body, his loose shirt falling into his muscles, his jeans already starting to tent at the crotch.

you move your chair even closer, pressing your lips against rafes jaw. “i want you.”

you place a hand on his thigh, leaving it still for mere seconds before moving up, rubbing over his hardness, feeling ever inch of his length as it grows.

you know he needs relief from pressing against the zipper, undoing the button and pushing the two sides of his jeans further open so you can reach in, gripping his cock over the fabric.

“you're so naughty.” rafe tsks. 

“you're just too hot to resist.” you kiss rafes jaw again, knowing you can't be too obvious above the table, just in case.

your hand moves under the waistband of his boxers, feeling the warmth radiating from his body as your palm presses against his cock, watching with fascination as rafes eyes flutter closed.

“god you can't even go 24 hours without needing me.” rafe smirks, his voice dripping with cockiness.

truth is, it's been less than 12 hours since you spread your legs for rafe last night, moaning and holding back screams as he pumped into you in your shared dorm room, having paid off the university to get you on the married couples floor despite not having a ring on your finger.

you ignore the urge to pull rafes cock out and drop your mouth around him and slurp and suck for anyone to hear.

you stand up suddenly, making rafes body physically jerk as he loses the sensation of your touch.

you move around the table, humming softly to yourself as you make your way down the aisle directly in front of rafe, bending down, feigning looking for a book on the bottom shelf.

you know damn well your short skirt is putting your underwear on display for rafe as you grab a book with one hand while pulling your underwear down with the other, revealing your already wet pussy.

you let your panties fall to the ground as you stand up, book in hand. you snatch them off the ground and make your way back to rafe, whose mouth might as well be watering with the intense look of hunger and need on his face.

you drop the book onto the table, letting it clatter as you stuff your underwear into rafes jean pocket.

“cock out.” you hum.

rafe listens quickly, not usually one to follow yours or anyone else's orders, but he certainly won't push back against this one as he shoves his underwear down to underneath his balls, his cock standing at attention and ready for you.

you step between him and the table, rafes hands coming to grab your hips and stop you from sitting down too quickly. he leans forward and sinks his teeth into your cheeks over your skirt, hard enough to leave a bite mark and have you swallowing a moan.

rafe tugs you down, retaking control of the situation as he pushes you onto his cock in one smooth motion, and this time you can't help the sound that escapes your mouth, a whine of pleasure and pain as your walls are instantly stretched.

“you think you'd be used to me by now.” rafe chuckles in your ear, pushing you forward to rest your elbows against the table.

to anyone walking by, it would look like you were studying while sat on your boyfriends lap, and with your boyfriend being rafe, most people would scurry quickly away, not paying enough attention to realize your hips are moving up and down and rafe is gripping one of your thighs tightly while his other arm is wrapped around your waist.

“shit.” rafe moans quietly. “you're so warm.”

the air whooshing over your behind every time your skirt flounces as you move up and down adds to the shiver that runs down your spine.

“this is why-” you gasp as you sit up a little straighter to make it easier to bounce on his cock, feeling your pussy swallow him in with every movement inwards before gripping like your body doesn't want to be apart when you try to move. “this is why we never get any studying done.”

“because you're a whore for my cock?” rafe chuckles, his voice quiet as footsteps are heard, but they continue up the stairs to a different floor.

“because you always look too fucking good to not let you fuck me.”

rafes hips begin to snap upwards with the compliment. he's never had a problem getting girls, and experimented with other women during your breaks, but nobody moves him the way you do, you're the only one he can stand being with for any time longer than a night, the only one whose opinion he really cares about.

you're no longer being so subtle as your fingers dig into the wood grain of the table as rafes hands grip your hips, helping you move up and down in time to his hips raising up off the chair.

“you're gonna walk out of here filled with my cum.” rafe says, and you can practically hear the smirk on his face, knowing how much he loves marking his territory and leaving his claim on you.

“and you're gonna walk out of here with my wetness covering your cock.” you also smile, just as territorial as rafe is. you knew he was the one for you when no other cock could satisfy you, always wishing it was rafe until you got back together, your very last time apart.

“damn right.” rafe hums, hands fisting and gathering bunches of your skirt up so he can watch your ass as it moves, jiggling every time you sit fully down on his length.

“fuck.” you groan, body drooping forward as the elevator dings. you can hear the doors open as someone gets off on your floor.

you sit up straighter as rafe leans in, letting your skirt fall back around you, hiding the fact that he's inside of you at this very moment.

you listen closely as whoever it is walks down an aisle before getting a book off the shelf. you hope they'll walk away, but instead they continue towards your table until you see a college kid with headphones on you've never seen before.

you hope he'll see the two of you and flee, but he doesn't seem to notice as he sets his bag down on a chair before pulling out the one next to it.

“rafe…” you whisper as you feel his hips start to rock back and forth. “ssss… stop.”

you're not really concerned about a student seeing you, but you really don't want anyone to report you to the library.

“hey, kid.” rafe calls out, making the student jolt in surprise and look up, eyes widening as he realizes who he's looking at, but hopefully not what.

“fuck out of here.” rafe says, and the kid runs away and down the stairs faster than you thought possible.

“such a dick.” you chuckle, immediately beginning to move.

“says the one bouncing on my dick right now.” rafe chuckles. “you wanted him gone too.”

you place your hands on the table, ignoring rafes teasing as he starts to push up into you, putting all the strength you have left in your tired legs into your movements.

rafe reaches around your front and presses two fingertips against your clit, rubbing harshly knowing he can't last much longer and needs to get you there too, wanting to cum together.

“f-fuck.” you whine out, voice turning high pitched. “please. close.” you manage to say.

rafes cock swells inside of you and you can tell that he's not far either as he delivers a few finishing thrusts into your wet pussy before he bursts with a moan of your name, cum pumping into you as his fingers continue at the same pace.

you smack your ass down against his lap as you cum, his cock pushing so far inside of you that you swear he's in your womb.

his fingers play with your pulsing clit as you ride out your highs together until you suddenly become sensitive, having to shove his hand away to keep from crying out.

you are both breathing heavily, you slumped forward against the tabletop while rafe is slack against the back of the chair.

“shit.” rafe chuckles. “i completely forgot everything we just studied.”

you clench your pussy to keep from leaking as you pull off his cock, moving quickly to the seat next to you as your thighs almost immediately give out.

“well.” you lean back, both looking exhausted. “i'm gonna need a while before i can walk, so get back to it.”

rafe redoes his pants and leans forward to look back at the study guide, resigning to his fate as your eyes droop closed.

[youthguk]

Front seat surrender | jjk (m) | Parasocial

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: smut, car sex, oral (m receiving), best friends with benefits, a little bit toxic, jungkook and reader are a little messy and ruin life’s of people around them

words: 4,6k

summary: jungkook was yours even if you had a boyfriend and another girl was warming his bed. you had him wrapped around your finger. one sharp breath, one heated stare— two bodies reckless in the backseat

this is a part 2 of parasocial series. however, this can be read as a stand alone story!

Reason #2. Front seat surrender

​​"The hell is wrong with you tonight?" The words cut through the party noise, making you wince.

You slouched deeper into the couch cushions, your plastic cup dangling limply between your fingers. The bass thumped through the floorboards as people laughed and danced around you, their joy making your mood feel even more out of place.

The summer breeze drifted through the open windows, carrying the sweet scent of June flowers. Your first year of university lay conquered behind you - a battlefield of all-nighters, caffeine-fueled study sessions, and those nerve-wracking moments before exam results. But through it all, Jungkook had been your constant, your anchor. The same guy who'd shared your elementary school lunch table was now sharing your college journey, your paths parallel even as you pursued different dreams - you in the biology labs, him in the maze of computer science.

"God, you two are totally dating, right?" The question followed you everywhere like an echo, bouncing off hallway walls and floating across cafeteria tables.

The memories of that night in senior year still burned bright - Jungkook's fingers intertwined with yours, his whispered words against your skin: "It should be me. I want it to be special for you." After that, something shifted. The careful dance of friendship blurred into something more intimate. His touch lingered longer - an arm sliding around your waist in crowded corridors, pulling you onto his lap during lunch breaks, his palm warm against your thigh. You found yourself melting into these moments, your fingers absent-mindedly playing with his hair while he hunched over textbooks in your room, or curling into his side during movie nights, his heartbeat steady under your ear.

The whispers grew louder. Even as Jungkook worked his way through the university's dating scene, you remained his constant star in an ever-rotating constellation.

"We're just friends," became your mantra, even as something deeper stirred in your chest, unacknowledged and unnamed.

Each time he disappeared with another girl, you swallowed the bitter pill of jealousy with a smile. Because no matter whose bed he woke up in, you were still the one he'd drop everything for at 3 AM if you needed him.

But watching him with others carved little wounds in your heart, each one deeper than the last.

Then Ren appeared - all soccer-star swagger and magnetic charm. His pursuit was relentless, and you found yourself drawn to him like a moth to flame. The resulting explosion with Jungkook was nuclear.

"What the hell does it matter to you?" Your voice had risen with each word, hands trembling.

Jungkook's eyes had flashed dangerously. "What does it matter? Are you seriously asking me that?"

"Yeah, I am! You're out there hooking up with half the campus, but God forbid I actually date someone!"

"That walking STD clinic?" Jungkook's voice had softened then, that familiar tenderness creeping back in. "You deserve better than that, baby. You deserve the world."

"Maybe I want to decide what I deserve." Your chin had lifted defiantly. "I'm giving him a chance."

Six months later, that argument still simmered between you, erupting periodically in heated exchanges and meaningful glares.

Ren, your golden boy with his campus king crown, was everything Jungkook wasn't - and that was both the appeal and the problem. He couldn't comprehend your relationship with Jungkook, couldn't understand why your best friend's hands still found their way to your waist, why his lips still brushed your cheek in greeting. Jungkook, for his part, seemed to delight in pushing those boundaries, his touch growing more possessive whenever Ren was watching.

"Have you fucked him?" Ren's question had come like a thunderbolt after watching Jungkook's hand slide dangerously low on your back.

The lie had tasted bitter: "No." You'd avoided his eyes, guilt churning in your stomach. What was there to tell? It was ancient history - well, sort of.

Despite his obvious hatred for Jungkook, Ren stayed. He took you on proper dates, showered you with gifts, and yes - the sex was good.

When Jungkook found out about that last part, his reaction was explosive.

"You should have talked to me first!" His voice had cracked with emotion.

You'd laughed, sharp and defensive. "Since when do I need your permission for my sex life?"

"Don't you remember-" He'd run his hands through his hair in frustration. "Why are you cutting me out because of him?"

But you weren't cutting him out - you were just drawing lines that should have existed all along. Every time you did, Jungkook acted like you were severing vital arteries instead of creating healthy boundaries.

His possessive tantrums had been almost entertaining - until Teri. Tall, blonde, and apparently more than just another notch on Jungkook's bedpost. A month had stretched into two, and now she was everywhere - at group hangouts, campus parties, even movie nights. The sight of her made your stomach twist.

"Want to catch Anora?" You'd called him last week, missing him and any attention while Ren was away despite the constant stream of texts from your boyfriend.

"Already saw it with Teri." His casual response had felt like a slap. Since when did Jungkook take his hookups to movies? "But hey, Teri's roommate is throwing this end-of-year thing next week. You in?"

"I..." The lump in your throat had made it hard to speak. Their campus was an hour away, and the thought of watching them together made you feel physically ill.

"Come on," he'd coaxed, his voice holding that special warmth reserved just for you. "I'll drive you there myself."

An hour alone in his car? "Okay," you'd agreed before your brain could catch up with your heart.

But now, a week later, at this very party, you were sitting there with a sour expression that you weren't even trying to hide.

Everything started not as you wanted when he picked you up to get to the party. 

The car ride started with Jungkook pulling up in his cherished '98 Toyota Supra - the same one that had carried you through countless high school adventures. You tugged at your tank top, the summer heat providing a convenient excuse for the revealing outfit and short denim skirt you'd chosen for this hour alone with him.

"Remember when we almost crashed this thing trying to learn stick shift?" you asked, sliding into the familiar passenger seat.

His laugh filled the car. "You mean when you almost destroyed my clutch?"

The conversation flowed effortlessly in your little bubble, words tumbling out unfiltered between bursts of laughter. Your hand found its way to the back of his neck - an old habit - fingers threading through the soft hair there. Usually, this would be when his hand would find your thigh, that familiar touch that always sent warmth pooling in your stomach.

But something was different today. Each time his hand drifted toward you, he'd pull back sharply, as if burned. The sixth time it happened, you couldn't help but notice how white his knuckles were on the steering wheel.

"What the fuck?" you muttered under your breath. Since when did Jungkook hold back with you? Was this about... her? The thought of Teri being the reason for this new restraint made your chest tight with an emotion you refused to name.

"You okay?" he asked, glancing over.

"Peachy," you replied, forcing a smile. What right did you have to feel this way? Ren's latest text sat unread in your phone, a reminder of your own relationship status. So you swallowed the bitterness and kept the conversation light, even as jealousy gnawed at your insides.

The house came into view, music already pulsing through the walls, fairy lights twinkling in the growing dusk. Jungkook's hand found its usual spot on your lower back as you navigated through the crowd of drunk students, his body a protective shield behind yours.

Teri spotted you from across the room, Annie and Tom trailing behind her. Her face lit up at the sight of Jungkook, and she moved in for a kiss. Your stomach lurched, but Jungkook - after catching your eye - only gave her a quick hug.

"I'm sooo glad you made it," Teri slurred, swaying slightly. You couldn't help but roll your eyes.

After a few dances with Jungkook, his hands stayed firmly on your waist - no wandering touches like before. Your skin tingled where his fingers should have been but weren't. The bass pulsed through your body as you watched Teri and her friends whisk him away, leaving you alone with Annie and Tom on the couch. Their lips locked together while you nursed your drink, stealing glances at Teri hanging off Jungkook's neck, her lips brushing his ear. Despite staying sober to drive you home, he seemed to be enjoying her attention.

"Hello? Earth to space cadet?" Annie's voice cut through your brooding. Tom finally came up for air, both of them staring at you.

You drained your beer, pushing yourself up from the couch. "I'm out."

Annie's hand shot out, grabbing your wrist. "Are you crazy? It's barely been two hours!" She spun you toward the dancing crowd, where several guys were already eyeing you appreciatively. "Look at all these guys checking you out."

You rolled your eyes. "I have a boyfriend, Ann."

"Funny how you only remember that when it's not about Jungkook," Annie muttered, but the alcohol buzzing through your system let you brush it off.

"Boring. I'm leaving," you insisted, pulling away.

"It's late, and dressed like that? Have you lost your mind?" Genuine concern laced Annie's voice.

Your lips curved into a mischievous smile. "I'll find someone to drive me. Didn't you just point out all my admirers?" You winked at her.

Weaving through the crowd, you zeroed in on the most attractive guy you could spot through your beer goggles. "Want to give me a ride, handsome?" The words dripped like honey from your lips. His eyes darkened with desire and understanding. The attention, even this kind, soothed the ache in your chest, numbing the cocktail of anger, hurt, and jealousy burning in your stomach.

He nodded, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as he led you toward the door. The crowd's energy vibrated around you as you pushed through. A flutter of nervousness tickled your stomach, but something in the back of your mind told you this night would end exactly as you planned.

The stranger stopped so abruptly you collided with his back. Like clockwork. Showtime.

"Get the fuck out before I make you." Jungkook's voice rumbled like thunder, and the stranger vanished like morning mist. You lifted innocent eyes to meet Jungkook's, watching his broad chest rise and fall with barely contained rage. "What the hell are you thinking?"

Victory danced through your veins. Just as you knew he would, your Jungkook had been watching, even while entertaining Teri across the room. Your Jungkook would never let you leave with anyone else.

"I just wanted to go home," you murmured, pushing your lower lip out into a pout and furrowing your brows. Pure innocence. Jungkook's scowl began to soften around the edges, even as he fought to maintain his anger.

You flashed him an angelic smile, bringing your index finger to your lips in that way you knew drove him crazy - one of many secrets you'd shared over late-night conversations about what got you both going, even now with other people in your beds. "My head's spinning... I can't stay here anymore," you whispered, and the last of his frown melted away.

How could he stay mad at you?

"You know I would've taken you home - all you had to do was ask!" He guided you toward the exit, his frustration evident in every step.

The June night air kissed your skin as you walked to his car. "You seemed busy," you purred, and Jungkook's growl sent shivers down your spine.

"Bullshit. You know I'm never too busy for you." He ran his fingers through his hair, jaw clenched. God, he looked good when he was worked up.

"Sorry," you gazed up at him through your lashes as he steadied you with a hand on your waist, helping you into the car.

"I forgive you, but I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to you." He gripped the steering wheel tight, starting the engine.

"Kookie," you cooed, reaching out to stroke his neck. "Isn't it amazing that we have each other?"

A smirk played at his lips. "You could say that."

"No, really..." Your fingers traced the curve of his bicep, giving in to your body's constant need to touch him, to confirm he was still yours. Completely.

His arm tensed beneath your touch, a fleeting reaction, but you felt it. His gaze flicked toward you—dark, hungry—before snapping back to the road. A muscle in his jaw ticked as his eyes had taken in the way your legs, bare under the short skirt, angled toward him.

Yet, Jungkook kept his hands on the wheel. Kept his focus.

“We’ll always be in each other’s lives. I won’t allow anything else,” he murmured, his tone as steady as if he were reciting the time.

Your thighs pressed together, heat pooling between them, betraying you.

“Stop at that little shop and get me some ice cream,” you said, your voice feigning nonchalance. “And get some for yourself too.”

Jungkook let out a short chuckle, shaking his head. “Well done, Y/n. You’ve got me wrapped around your finger.” Yet, he pulled into the lot without hesitation.

The gas station shop stood mostly deserted, its neon sign buzzing faintly in the night. Your pulse quickened as you realized—no audience. Of course, Jungkook’s windows were tinted, but if your little plan worked, you wouldn’t want any spectators anyway.

Jungkook stepped out, leaving you alone in the car. You watched him through the windshield, eyes trailing the broad line of his back, the powerful way he moved. He’d always been good-looking, even in high school, but university had sculpted him into something more—a man.

Your fingers curled against your thighs, pressing hard. A slow, traitorous thought slithered through your mind. If his body had changed this much, what else had?

You threw your head back against the seat, exhaling sharply. Fuck. This was Jungkook. Why did you start this?

Ren. Your stomach twisted. You had a boyfriend. A serious relationship. Or at least, it could’ve been serious—could’ve become something real.

Your eyes flicked back up, catching Jungkook’s reflection in the glass door as he stepped out, two ice creams in hand. And just like that, the guilt evaporated.

He slid into the driver’s seat, handing you yours, but before he could start the car, you stopped him. “Wait. Let’s eat here.”

He stilled, turning his head slightly. His gaze dropped again, just for a second, to your skirt before he forced it back up. His fingers tapped against the steering wheel. “It’s dark,” you continued. “We’ve got half an hour left to drive. Let’s just sit for a bit.”

Jungkook’s lips pressed together as if he were testing the weight of your words. Then, with a slow nod, he leaned back. “Amazing reasoning for someone who was ready to leave with a stranger ten minutes ago,” he muttered, a trace of irritation lacing his voice.

You swatted at his thigh—a playful tap. But the way his muscles jumped under your palm wasn’t lost on you.

You ate in relative ease, chatting about summer plans, laughter slipping in between bites. You avoided mentioning Ren’s lake house, the two weeks you were supposed to spend there. Jungkook talked about work, how he was saving up for a new car.

The ice cream melted, sticky and sweet. Your thumb smeared with a drop, and instinctively, you brought it to your lips, tongue darting out to clean it. But not before making sure Jungkook was watching. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“You’ve got something…” His voice was rougher now, his thumb gesturing to the corner of your mouth.

You blinked at him, feigning innocence. “Where?”

He pointed again, this time on himself. You tilted your head, pretending to inspect your reflection in the mirror before sighing. “Better clean it yourself, Jungkookie.”

His breath hitched-just barely, but enough. He reached forward, swiping his thumb across your lips. The warmth of his skin sent a shiver down your spine.

You caught his wrist before he could pull away, guiding his touch. Slowly, deliberately, you let him trace the outline of your lips. His pupils blew wide as his breathing grew heavier.

You parted your lips, drawing his thumb inside, your tongue curling around the pad of it.

Jungkook went rigid. His fingers twitched, barely brushing against your teeth, his breath coming out in shallow, uneven bursts. You sucked lightly, slow and deliberate, eyes locked on his. The effect was instant—his chest rose sharply, his other hand gripping his thigh. “Y/n, you...”

You sucked harder, feeling the way his body jerked, the way he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His free hand found his belt, gripping it like an anchor.

Poor thing. Big, intimidating Jungkook, the guy everyone feared—sitting before you, struggling to keep himself together.

You pulled his thumb from your lips with a wet pop.

“I…” You leaned closer, voice dripping with intent. “Want to take care of my friend.”

Your fingers trailed down, tracing the outline of his jeans. Even through the fabric, he was already straining against it.

Jungkook cursed under his breath, eyes dark and unreadable. “Fuck, Y/n, don’t joke like that.”

You smiled, wicked and knowing. Still, he barely hesitated as he shoved his seat back, giving himself more space. His legs spread wide, head tilted back against the headrest, breath shallow.

The space between you crackled with unspoken words, heavy breaths filling the car like a storm about to break. His fingers trembled slightly as they brushed your waist, hesitating-just for a second—before his hunger swallowed his restraint whole.

“Fuck,” Jungkook muttered, his voice raw as his forehead met yours, eyes dark and unreadable. “We shouldn’t-”

“We already are,” you whispered, undoing his zipper with slow, deliberate precision, your touch both a challenge and an invitation. His breath hitched, his restraint fracturing as your hand wrapped around his hard cock, warmth searing through your palm. His jaw clenched, a curse escaping between gritted teeth.

You felt him, hot and heavy in your grip, marveling at how thick and perfect he was. The way he twitched in your grasp, the heat radiating off him, made your mouth water. The anticipation pulsed between your legs, the ache undeniable as wetness pooled between your thighs.

His head fell back against the headrest as you leaned down, the tip of your tongue teasing him, tasting the anticipation on the tip of his dick. The groan that tore from his throat sent shivers down your spine, deep and guttural, like he was losing himself in you..

“Fuck, baby…” His fingers found your hair, gripping tight—too tight, a contradiction between wanting control and surrendering to you entirely.

You let him guide you, let him use you, taking him deeper, reveling in the way his composure unraveled with every flick of your tongue. The way he cursed your name, a plea and a punishment in one breath. You moaned softly around him, reveling in the weight of him on your tongue, in the way he barely held himself together under your touch. The way he filled your mouth, stretching your lips, sent an intoxicating thrill through your body. You were dripping for him, your thighs clenched together, desperate for friction.

The car’s interior felt suffocatingly small, filled only with the slick sounds of desperation and the raw edge of something neither of you wanted to name. You were lost in it, lost in him, lost in the way he unraveled for you so beautifully. And when his body finally tensed, his release shattering through him, the sound he made sent a shiver down your spine—a sound so unguarded, so devastatingly undone that you felt yourself trembling in response.

But the hunger wasn’t satisfied. Not yet. Even as he came undone in your mouth, his body still thrummed with hunger. Lust. That damn longing neither of you could outrun.

His breathing was ragged as he grabbed a condom, his fingers shaking just enough for you to notice. He slid it on swiftly before pulling you onto his lap, hands gripping your hips like he was afraid you’d slip away.

His fingers found the hem of your tank top, pushing it up with deliberate slowness, his eyes darkening as your breasts spilled free. He groaned, dragging his thumbs over your nipples before taking one into his mouth, his tongue circling, teeth grazing, making you arch against him.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he murmured against your skin, his voice wrecked with desire.

You stared at each other in the dim light, breath mingling, hearts hammering against ribs like they wanted to break free. His lips parted, something unspoken lingering there, but neither of you dared voice it.

Because this wasn’t just lust.

It was poison, dressed as passion.

And yet, as you sank down onto him, your body stretching to take him in, the only thing that mattered was the way he filled you, the way his hands gripped you tighter—like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the moment.

“God, you feel…” Jungkook's voice broke off into a growl, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, his hands roaming your body with reverence and possession.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your short denim skirt, shoving it up roughly to expose the slick heat between your legs. His grip tightened as he thrust up into you, the stretch so intoxicating it made your head spin.

You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure crashed through you in waves. He groaned, his hands steadying your hips before he snapped his own upwards, burying himself deeper. The force of it sent a cry tumbling from your lips, the intensity overwhelming as he set a brutal pace.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he panted, his voice trembling with restraint, but the way his hips surged up against yours betrayed his desperation. His hands wandered, one gripping your waist possessively while the other trailed down, slipping between your thighs. The second his fingers found your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles, your entire body tensed.

Your breath hitched, vision blurring as pleasure coiled tight, unbearable, electric. His touch was ruthless, his thrusts pushing you closer and closer to the edge until the pleasure became too much to hold back.

“Jungkook—” His name broke from your lips in a strangled moan as you came undone around him, waves of ecstasy rippling through your body. Your walls clenched tight around him, pulling him deeper, making him groan as he chased his own release.

His movements grew frantic, desperate, his teeth grazing your shoulder, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force. And when he finally let go, his release spilling into the condom, he clung to you like a drowning man.

The air between you was thick with something more than lust—something dangerous, something that made you forget why this should’ve never happened in the first place.

And when you finally collapsed against his chest, panting, trembling, your bodies tangled together in the sticky heat of the moment, you knew it wouldn’t be the last time.

No matter how much you wished it would be.

You gripped the car door handle, knuckles white against the cool metal as the engine rumbled beneath you. Jungkook's cologne filled the space between you, mixing with the crisp night air that whistled through a crack in the window. Neither of you spoke, but your racing heartbeat seemed to echo in the silence.

"So." His voice cut through the quiet, lips curving into that familiar half-smile. "Is this your way of telling me you and Ren are over?"

Ren's name hit you like a punch to the gut. You pressed your forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching streetlights blur past. "No," you whispered, your reflection avoiding his gaze in the darkened glass. "I... I don't know what's gotten into me."

Jungkook's low chuckle vibrated through the car. "I do."

Your gaze snapped to him. "What?"

His eyes caught yours, dark and knowing. "This was your way of checking if I still belong to you."

Your chest tightened. "That's not—"

"Don't lie to me, baby." His words sliced through yours, wrapped in a velvet laugh. "I know you better than you know yourself."

The truth of his words sank into your skin like ice water. Your reflection stared back at you, cheeks flushed with shame.

Your nails carved crescents into your palms as you clenched your fists in your lap. Every cell in your body screamed with self-loathing - for the betrayal, for the way your skin still tingled where Jungkook had touched you, for knowing you'd never look at Ren the same way again.

Jungkook's voice dropped to a husky whisper. "How do you plan on fucking him now?" His words dripped like honey laced with poison. "Now you that you remembered how good my dick feels?"

Heat bloomed across your face, equal parts shame and something darker, hungrier. You smacked his arm. "You're an asshole."

His laugh filled the car as he gripped the steering wheel tighter. "Maybe." Those eyes found yours again, gleaming. "But you love it."

The next morning, you blinked against harsh fluorescent lights as you emerged from your last biology lecture. Your notebook was filled with sketches of cell membranes and chemical equations, but your mind kept drifting to other things. The strap of your bag dug into your shoulder as you pushed through the heavy doors into the summer air.

Your lips curved upward as fragments of last night flickered through your mind - the way Jungkook's fingers had branded your skin, how perfectly he'd filled you, the rough edge in his voice when he'd...

"Y/N."

The sharp voice shattered your daydream. You spun around, and your stomach plummeted to your feet. There stood Teri, her manicured nails digging into the strap of her designer bag.

Her mascara-rimmed eyes blazed, lip curled back in a snarl. "Slut." The word cracked like a whip in the space between you.

Your jaw clenched tight enough to ache. "Excuse me?"

In one fluid motion, Teri reached into her bag and hurled something at your feet. The familiar scrap of black lace made your blood run cold. Your underwear. The ones you'd left tangled in Jungkook's backseat. Shit.

Whispers rippled through the crowd of students gathering around you, but they felt distant, underwater.

Teri's voice trembled, each word sharp as broken glass. "You think I'm stupid? You and Jungkook - using people like we're fucking disposable while you two play whatever twisted game this is?" Her voice climbed higher, cracking at the edges. "You clearly have feelings for each other. So why the hell are you dragging the rest of us into your mess?"

Your mouth opened and closed, but your throat had sealed shut. What defense could you possibly offer?

She stepped closer, close enough that you could see tears gathering in her eyes beneath the anger. "You could've just had him. Why mess with others?"

The guilt pressed against your ribcage like a physical weight. But underneath it, something else unfurled - a dark satisfaction that purred: She's gone now. Jungkook was never meant to be hers anyway. She was just trying to be another obstacle between you and him.

Because what you and Jungkook shared was sacred. Untouchable. Beyond anyone else's understanding.

part 3

🖤

[miss-fanfictions]

Sundays at the Library

Part Two

Pairing] Spencer Reader x glasses wearing! shy! librarian! fem!Reader

Synopsis] Spencer talks to the sweet librarian at his new library and slowly Sundays become his favorite day of the week.

Warnings] Cursing, creepy guy, misunderstandings (but its cute I promise), written from Spencer's POV

Word Count] 8.9k

Author's Note] This is my first fic here! I'm planning on doing a few more parts to this, so this is only the beginning 🙃

The first time Spencer saw you, the encounter wasn’t anything special. 

If he wasn’t working, he was reading, and because he can read 20,000 thousand words per minute, he needed new books often. Not even his FBI salary could afford the amount of books he consumed in a month and his cozy apartment certainly couldn’t contain them all. Already his bookcases were spilling out onto nearby surfaces. So to quench his constant need for new books, Spencer borrowed books from the library. However, since the one near his apartment closed just a week ago, he had to find a new one. That led him to drive to the library ten minutes away. 

It was larger than the one down the street from his apartment—it had a full three floors. Beyond the double doors, he followed two velvet rope barriers onto the main floor of the library, wandering past a grand front desk to his left to where the room divided into two sections and the barriers ended. In the left section, beside the desk, there were a couple computers set up, as well as two printers and a side wall dedicated to DVDs. In the other section there were tables and chairs set up for quiet studying, as well as more comfortable lounges for reading. Behind those two sections started the book shelves, nearly ceiling high and organized via genre and then further alphabetized. When he ascended the staircase at the back of the main floor, he found the upper levels were fully dedicated to rows of shelving containing books, interspersed with a few tables and lounges for reading. 

 He spent approximately 45 minutes getting the layout of the library, as large as it was, and finding the books he wanted to read. Of course, he got a range of books. Two books on psychology, a mathematical textbook, and another two books based in the sciences. A bit of light reading, really, just to occupy his time at home during a busy caseload week. 

He balanced the heavy books awkwardly in his arms as he made his way to the front desk, practically dropping them onto the counter. His lips twisted up in embarrassment, glancing around to see if anyone was disturbed by the loud clatter. When his eyes turned back to the desk, they met the bespeckled ones of you, the librarian, seated behind the counter. They were wide behind the frames, doe-like and startled by the noise. He winced and stuttered out an apology.

Too often he embarrassed himself due to his clumsiness. Over the years, Spencer got a lot better at the shooting range, but he still couldn’t run a mile without tripping a few times, or be able to participate in sports, and he didn’t even want to think about his driving. JJ often compared the experience of being in his passenger seat to riding shotgun with her senile grandmother. No matter what he did, the awkwardness crept in and all he could do was apologize. He didn’t mean to startle the nice librarian who he would seeing every week for the foreseeable future. 

“It’s fine,” your voice was a gentle whisper, perfect for the quiet of the library. You closed the book on your lap and placed it out of sight under the counter, standing up to help him. That’s when he could take you in completely, with your long flowy skirt and oversized sweater. Perhaps a shy attempt to battle the chill running through the library, or maybe a purposeful effort to hide yourself away from prying eyes. He could tell—despite your attire—that you were his age or maybe a little younger. You lacked the wrinkles, grays, and even the weathered dullness associated with age. Your hair was done up messily, effortlessly, and his eyes tracked your chewed up fingernails as you tucked a few strands behind your ears, out of the way of your eyesight. 

He thought you were plain and shy. The soft pastels and neutrals that colored your clothes and the fact the garments covered you so entirely, made you blend into the background. Had he not needed to speak to you directly, he might not have noticed you tucked behind the desk, folded up in your chair with your nose deep in a book. 

“Can I check these out for you?” You asked him, and he almost missed it due to both his staring and your airy cadence. 

“Oh, uh, yes,” he said, then quickly added. “And a library card, please. I’m new to this library.”

“I’ll just need an ID then,” you held out your hand while he rummaged through his wallet for his state ID, and when he placed it into your palm he was careful not to touch your hand. It was less about you as a person as it was his disdain for germs. 

You went about clicking and typing at the computer to the side of the desk, face plain as if whatever you were doing you had done a thousand times. Your nimble fingers only stuttered when you glanced back at him, catching his eyes as he watched you before he darted them away from your face, caught. Quickly, you grabbed the mouse, clicking only three more times before handing back his ID. He was careful not to touch your hand or meet your eyes as he took it back. 

He didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with his staring, he had a habit of it, always trying to profile. But you were just a meek librarian, and there was no reason to take note of your behavior. You went about printing out a physical copy of his new library card, and he opened one of his books to occupy himself as you did so. 

When you turned back to him, you scanned a plastic card before offering it to him with a small smile. “Thank you,” he mumbled as you went about scanning the books on the counter with the same barcode reader. You were on the fourth book when your brows creased and you looked back up at him. 

“Are you studying?” You asked, the words sudden as if you couldn’t hold the thought off your lips. 

“No, this is just some light reading,” he answered politely, because it was. Though he forgot that was maybe not normal, because you giggled at his reply. 

The sound brought his eyes to your lips, the way they parted to let the breathy noise out. It was a unique giggle, though he supposed everyone’s is, but something about it suited you so completely. It was soft, and when he glanced around the library to see that no one else had heard it, he thought it was also just for him. There was no taunting, just joy that you emitted in the most delicate of sounds. If only he could understand what he did to extract it from you. 

“Right,” You said jokingly, and then he thought maybe you didn’t believe him, but he didn’t get a chance to assure you he was being truthful before you finished checking out the books. “Here you go, have a nice day, Spencer.”

He hesitated, thrown off by your use of his name, but cleared his throat and collected his books nonetheless. He thanked you and mumbled a brief goodbye as he did so, not looking back as he rushed out of the library. When he got to his car, he used a pack of disinfectant wipes on the books and set them up in his passenger seat, thoughts of the little librarian withering away to the casework waiting for him at work tomorrow.

—

He finished the books quickly, in only two days actually, but thankfully most of his time was taken up by his work. In his remaining free hours, he resorted to rereading a few books on his shelves. On Sunday, he collected his library books and drove the ten minutes back to his new library, exactly one week since his last visit. 

The inside was chilly and smelled like old paper and leather. There weren't many people he could see on the main floor, a few of what looked like college students spread out studying and some preteens huddled on the computers, whispering snarks and giggles. He walked up to the front desk, following the rug and the velvet rope barriers that led right to it from the entrance. This time he didn’t pass by the desk, but stopped at it to place down his books—quietly.

Your familiar framed eyes looked up at him, just as doe-like as surprise crossed them right before a smile took hold. Again, you closed the book in your lap, though this time Spencer caught a glimpse of its orange and yellow cover before you hid it from sight. He couldn’t make out the title. “Back so soon?”

It had been exactly a week since he’d seen you, and though he had not thought of you much since then, Spencer was incapable of forgetting a face. You looked just as you did last week—messy updo, baggy clothes, bare face. It seemed that was your natural state, or at least what you wore to work, but what Spencer wore to work was pretty much his normal wardrobe and he worked in the FBI, not a library.

“Yes, I need to return these books,” he told you, returning your smile with a quirk of his lips and placing his library card on top of the stack of books. 

When your eyes roamed back down from his to the five books, your brows furrowed. “Give up on studying then?” You asked, scanning the books back into the system. 

For a moment, Spencer was confused, then he recalled every word of your last interaction, and realized you still thought he checked the books out to study them, likely for some graduate classes, given his age. “No, I wasn’t studying them. I just needed a few books for casual reading after work.”

You paused once you turned to the computer, looking at him down your glasses. “Casual reading?” Your eyes went back between the thick books and his face, a smirk of disbelief growing. “You read all these books in a week?”

“Yes.” He shrugged. 

“For fun?” You had a skeptical eyebrow quirked.

“That’s what casual reading normally implies.” Spencer furrowed his brows at your line of questioning. Maybe most people wouldn’t read such topics simply for fun, but why would he lie about that? 

At that, you giggled again, a bird’s song, and resumed clicking at your computer. Your gentle laugh tickled something deep in his chest. Again, there was no malice or ill intent to it, not any that he could see behind your genuine eyes and smile. You simply thought he was a funny guy, and no one ever thought that of Spencer. He was too awkward, or too serious, or even too annoying to be fun. 

You took the stack of books in your arms, the pile reaching right up to your chin, and walked them to a cart behind you. When you turned back, you were still smiling sweetly at him. “Your light reading has been checked back in.” You slid his library card across the counter.

He plucked the card back off it with a thanks, tucking it into the pocket of his sweater vest. For a moment, he debated telling you about his PhDs, his eidetic memory, and maybe even his genius IQ because Spencer always felt the need to prove himself—to state facts—because he wasn’t the funny guy. He was very serious and all the things he was telling you weren’t just silly jokes. Then he worried he might wipe the smile right off your face, and he couldn’t let himself do that. So instead he gave you a stiff nod and continued into the library.

. . . Only to spin right back around, fist awkwardly pressed against his lips. “Oh, also, what is the maximum amount of books I could have checked out at once?”

You had just cracked the spine of your book again when you looked back up at him, a swirling look of confusion on your face. “Ten books, but you don’t have any out so I wouldn’t worry about it.” 

Spencer gave another nod, spinning back around on his heels and taking himself right up to the second floor of the library. He spent approximately 37 minutes collecting books from around the library, setting them aside at tables as he weaved through the rows of bookcases for the different genres. A wealth of knowledge in all areas was useful for his job, and also just for him personally. He found great pride in knowing many things, as annoying as others might find his incessant info-dumping. 

When he finished, he took a stack of books from the table and carried them down from the second floor, slowly stepping down the stairs and craning his neck around the stack to watch his steps. He could be uncoordinated at his best, so there was no need to tempt fate into sending him tumbling down the staircase by not paying attention. 

After successfully making it down, he took long strides to the main desk and set the stack down on the counter. Of course, you looked up at him again, however skipped surprise and jumped into an inviting smile. You closed your book and stood up, taking in the books he set in front of you. “Another five to check out then?”

“No, actually, I’ll be right back.” He turned away so fast he almost missed the way your smile faded and you leaned over the counter to watch him ascending the stairs again, spindly legs taking them two at a time.

He grabbed hold of the second tower of books, nearly dropping the top one in his haste to get back to you. After that he continued to take the stairs carefully even as he felt your eyes on him. Maybe especially because he felt your eyes on him, because if you watched him fall down the stairs he’d have to drive an additional ten minutes away to find another new library, because he certainly wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes anymore. 

Beside the first stack on the counter, he set the second, then placed his library card between them. “This is it, I promise.”

Again, you glanced between him and the books, eyes bugging behind their glass shelter. After a moment or so, as if you were making sure he was serious (he was), you began scanning his card and the books. Despite the larger quantity of books, you were slower as you ran the barcodes on the back, taking the time to read the titles and authors. 

“Are you a graduate student?” You asked, looking at a book on human genealogy. 

Spencer twiddled his thumbs. “No, I’m finished with school for now, but I might go back for another PhD in the future when I have more time,” he answered honestly, the words flowing out quickly, even though he wasn’t sure why he was telling you that. Only about two percent of the U.S. population has a PhD, and an even slimmer percent had more than one. So it was an unusual thing to say.

He thought you might laugh again, or even question him, but you simply hummed and moved onto the next book, chewing your lip. “I’m in a graduate program for poetry,” your voice was quiet, as required by the library environment, but more so than usual, like you seemed embarrassed to share that information. 

It made sense you were a graduate student working in a library while earning your MA in writing. He wondered if you had plans for your degree beyond getting a slight pay increase as a librarian. There was a career as an author, or maybe you wanted to be a teacher or a professor, he could see you doing that, standing in front of a class in your skirts and sweaters pointing at a chalkboard with a ruler, though that image was outdated. More likely you’d be in front of a white board or presenting from a projector. 

“That’s interesting. I find myself reading a lot of nonfiction recently—it helps more with my job, though I also just enjoy facts and statistics—but I’ll always have a special appreciation for fiction. I’m fond of poetry in particular because it’s created for multifaceted analysis,” even in his own whisper, the words were breathy and fast. He had to catch his tongue between his teeth when he caught your eyes trailing back up to him. “What do you plan on doing with your degree?”

“Write poetry hopefully,” the words came out in a gust of wind and your eyebrows quirked up, as if you didn’t believe even your own dream. “Maybe you can analyze it one day.” You finished scanning out the books, putting them back into two neat piles as you did. You went about clicking at your computer, making sure the books were grayed out in the system, avoiding his eyes.

So you did want to be a writer then. He could easily see that as well. Though he got the sense you didn’t believe your aspiration was attainable, and it likely wasn’t due to lack of skill. He told himself he wouldn’t profile you, but he did it practically subconsciously. Your lowered gaze, modest clothes, shy smile, and even chewed nails all pointed to a lack of confidence in yourself. He wasn’t sure why. You were pretty in your own right, and were clearly intelligent and hard working if your pursuit of a masters degree said anything. If you needed a little encouragement, the least he could do was give it to you.  “I look forward to it,” he said, and he was just as sincere as he always had been. 

It only seemed to increase your embarrassment, causing your face to shy further away from his gaze. “Thank you, Spencer.” Even if you couldn’t look at him, your tone was of genuine appreciation, and if he tilted his head just right, he could see the wisp of a smile on your face.

He nodded with a tight lipped smile, staring at you while he waited for the conversation to continue, only to realize you’d finished with his books and it was over. His hands stuttered to gather up the first heap of books, muttering about how he’d be back. However he only got a few paces when he heard you say his name again, feet stopping dead.

“Would you like me to help you carry these out?” You were already trying to get a hold on the books.

Quickly, he shook his head. “No,” the words came out abrupt and firm, louder than he’d ever spoken before in the library, and you flinched. 

“You shouldn’t be following anyone out of here to their cars. This library has a disturbing lack of cameras and an abduction, even in a public area, can happen in less than ten seconds. It’s safest for you to remain in the library and follow the good practice of having someone walk you to your car after your shifts.” Spencer felt obligated to warn you strictly, because your distinct quietness and sweetness made you the perfect prey for the killers he hunted daily. 

Though he almost regretted it as he watched the way your hands retreated from the books, crossing around yourself, and the gentle smile became forced. “Oh. I–I guess I’ll keep that in mind.”

Spencer nodded and hesitated, but didn’t linger much longer before exiting the library and heading back to his car. He was quick to toss the books into his car, your tangled smile stuck in his mind. Was it an odd thing to say? He was only trying to warn you, to keep you safe. But the look on your face, you didn’t seem at all grateful for the advice. Spencer took brisk strides back to the library entrance. You were standing there behind the front desk, arms still crossed, a distant look on your face. When you heard him approaching the counter taking in breath just a little faster from boardline jogging back, you barely spared him a glance. He scared you a bit, he realized, and he didn’t want to leave you like that. 

He paused beside his leftover books, wetting his lips.  “I didn’t mean to scare you with what I said before.” He finally caught your eyes and you seemed to hear him out. “I work in law enforcement, for the FBI actually, and all too often I see cases of nice girls like you who go missing just because you want to help people. Unfortunately it’s a pretty common ruse. So, I—I didn’t tell you all that to make you worry, but because I want you to be safe,” he admitted, and your face softened again, your hands falling back to the counter. It brought a smile to his own face to see you relax your guard again. “It’d also be awful if my librarian went missing. Who will check out the heap of books I keep bringing you?” 

You giggled, your lips pulling into a toothy smile. “It’d definitely suck, but I’d hope you’d put those FBI skills of yours into finding me.”

Spencer chuckled, ducking his head into his chest to quiet the sound as he pulled his books into his arms. “Of course I would, and I wouldn’t stop until I did.” He was good at his job, he never stopped until he found their victim, their unsub. 

You bowed your own head, hand holding your glasses to keep them from slipping down your nose. “Goodbye, Spencer.” You gave him a small wave with the other hand, ending the conversation with averted eyes, but he still noticed the growing color in your cheeks. 

He fumbled with his own wave under the stack of books, really just an outward flash of the fingers he could manage to peel away for a second, and he was glad you weren’t looking at him with how awkward it was. He turned on his heel, pink growing in his own cheeks, and exited the library again for the final time today. The gears in his head grinded the whole way to the car and continued as he grappled to get into it and wiped the books with disinfectant. 

You lingered in his mind longer than a librarian should have. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to warn you, to explain himself to you, or even comfort you. There was something about you, as meek and bashful as you were, that he found charming. Perhaps he saw himself in you, the insecurity. Or maybe it was how different you were from his job, where he was met with the most wicked minds and evil acts. You in comparison were the very image of innocence and life, in your pastel purples and yellows, lively eyes magnified behind glass, and your—your laugh. He liked your giggle. Even though he suspected at times it meant you didn’t fully believe him, he let you find him unserious, just so he could continue to hear that sweet sound tickle his ears in a way that scratched an itch inside him.

He was sitting in the parking lot staring out the windshield lost in his thoughts of you. When someone walked by, he found himself clearing his throat and finally putting his car in drive. You dissipated from his mind as he pulled out of the parking space because his Sunday at the library was over. 

—

It took five days for him to finish the ten books from the library. The team was in California from Tuesday through Thursday, but he took four books with him to read during his down time and while on the jet. He still ended up with spare time that he spent shopping with Penelope and babysitting Henry for JJ and Will’s date night. It was for this reason he was glad to be back in the library on Sunday.

Inside he was hit with the familiar crisp air and the vague smell of paper and coffee. The tables to the left had quite a few more students than usual, though there were not very many to start with previously. He wondered if a bout of exams were coming up. As Spencer neared the front desk, he could smell something else, a faint vanilla scent maybe.

You were there as always, standing this time, and almost leaning over the counter to see the door. You smiled when you saw him and he realized that you must be wearing perfume, because around you the vanilla air became thicker.

“Sunday at 11am. You're more reliable than my alarm clock,” you hummed cheekily.

Spencer set the books he held in his hands on the counter, his messenger bag following them up. “Having a routine is actually really good for you. It’s been proven to reduce anxiety and stress and also helps people to cope with certain mental illnesses,” he told you, pulling the rest of his books out of his bag.

If you were thrown off by his fact telling, you didn’t show it. “That makes sense. I like having a routine, but I’m pretty sure my friends think it makes me boring.”

Spencer dug around in his vest pocket for his library card, brows furrowing. “Why would you think that?”

You plucked it from his fingers, bringing it to the barcode reader without breaking your eye contact. “Because they say it to me all the time.”

“Oh,” Spencer snorted a little and clutched the strap of his bag closer. There’s something different about you today. You’re much more talkative and playful, but it’s also in your appearance too. Your glasses are still perched on your nose and your face is bare as it always is, but your updo is more put together, less stands fall away into your face. You wear another long skirt, but it's tighter, less flowy, and he can nearly make out the shape of your legs through it. You’re wrapped in a cardigan too, but where one side falls open he can see your tank top underneath and the sight of your skin has him clearing his throat and bringing his eyes back to your face. 

“And how was your recreational reading?” You’ve started to scan the books back into the system. “You must have been pretty entertained with ten books in seven days.” You state it like a fact, but your tone has a whimsical disbelief to it.

“Actually I finished them in five days,” he corrected with an incline of his head. 

You reply quickly, like the words were primed in your mind. “Then you should have come back sooner.” Under the teasing, you sound serious, looking up from the books at him, lashes fluttering against their glass encasement. 

“I would, but I’ve been pretty busy at work.” He was too. He would spend hours in the library reading if working at the BAU didn’t take up so much of his time. He loved his job of course, and he wouldn’t have it any other way, but what is someone with his talents to do but hole himself up gorging every book he can get his hands on. Spencer had a thirst for knowledge, that’s why he wanted to be in the library so much. 

“Well, that’s too bad then. What do you do for work?” Your head tilts with interest and he almost mirrors the movement, brows furrowed. 

 “I told you—I work for the FBI. Specifically, I’m an agent in the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” He has an eidetic memory which means he can remember every word you’ve said to him and every word he’s ever said to you, so he knows he’s told you this before. Of course he knows people forget things, but they also normally remember when he tells them he’s in the FBI.

Your face falls a bit and you chew your bottom lip, brows creasing. “Oh. . . right.” You finish scanning the last book quickly, gathering a couple into a pile to carry to a cart behind you. 

Spencer’s not exactly sure what he’s done to upset you, but his fingers twitch with the itch to fix it. Unfortunately, he’s got the idea his job is what makes you so uncomfortable. It wouldn’t be the first time someone was unsettled by the fact he carried a badge and gun, or that he had the authority to arrest people. But you had joked about it last week, possibly were soothed by the fact he was a cop after his blunt and maybe eerie warning. So why were you suddenly so upset with him? 

The thought occurred to him then that  maybe it was because you didn’t completely believe the things he was saying. Not only that, but you were no longer finding whatever game you think he’s playing by telling you those things to be funny. As you carry the rest of the books back to the cart, he fidgets with his fingers, wondering if it was time to show you proof of what he’s been saying. Or did you really even care? Maybe he was wrong and you would be even more frightened by him presenting you with his badge. Was it odd to flash his FBI credentials at his librarian? That was all you were after all. He didn’t even know your name.

You were back to clicking at the computer when you glanced at him. “They’re all checked in.”

Spencer froze as you pulled him out of his thoughts, his hands locking in the joints before dropping to his sides into fists. That was your cue for him to leave. “Right, thank you.” He went to walk away, but his feet were stuck. “. . .thank you, um, I just realized I don’t know your name.”

You didn’t have to tell him, you could have brushed it off. You were just the librarian and one didn’t need to know the librarian's name, but you looked back at him again, eyes studying his face. Then, you murmured your name so softly he almost leaned in to hear it louder. Soundlessly, he let your name ghost over his lips.

He used it as he thanked you one last time, certainly overkill but it seemed like the only correct way to exit. Although he only got a few feet before he heard you call his name.

“Spencer, wait!” You didn’t yell, he’s never heard you yell, but your voice was the loudest he’s ever heard it. You always spoke in a whisper or a hushed tone, but your voice was nearly normal when you called him back. The urgency of it had him back in front of you in just two strides.

You dipped beneath the counter and when you came back up you placed a basket on it. “When I used to go on picnics to read in the park, I used this basket. Well, I haven’t gone in a long time actually, but I thought maybe you could use it for all the books you check out,” you were bashful, tilting your head down and only sparingly meeting his eyes. Spencer was in shock, all he could think about was how this was one of the nicest things someone’s ever done for him. You gave him whiplash with how quickly you seemed to forgive whatever trespass he committed against you. He wondered even if he exaggerated the interaction in his head. 

The basket was woven, made from wicker, and had two handles at the top. It was rectangular in shape, pretty deep, and large for a picnic basket, he thought, big enough for fruits, pastries, sandwiches, and maybe more. It was a very nice basket, and the thought that you were giving it to him made his heart ache the most. You’d considered him, truly sat down and thought about him and then decided you were going to gift him a solution to his awkward problem. Not often did people solve his problems, it was always the other way around.

“Wow,” his finger grazed the side, considering the cost such a nice piece must be. “Are you sure? I really couldn’t take your basket it’s—”

“I don’t use it anymore,” you interrupted him for the first time. He realized that you never cut him off, you had always listened to him. “You can have it. . .” Your face was kind, then suddenly dropped into a panic. “Only if you want it of course! You don’t have to take it. I guess it’s kind of silly, carrying a picnic basket in a library. . .” You started to pick your nails, not meeting his eyes.

“I don’t think it’s silly,” he assured you quickly, leaning just a bit closer so he could catch your eyes again. “Thank you so much. Now I don’t have to worry about falling down the stairs or taking two trips to my car.” 

Your smile returned with a breathy chuckle. “Yeah, you kind of made me nervous going down the stairs like that with all those books. You don’t strike me as very. . . coordinated.”

“Ouch,” Spencer said, though he smiled back at you. You’d read him there, he was not very coordinated at all. Knowing physics was one thing, existing smoothly and with grace on the physical plane was another. 

“Sorry,” you shrugged half heartedly.

“No, you’re right. Thank you for the basket and uh, I’ll be back,” he waved you goodbye as he walked toward the stairs and you fluttered your fingers back at him. 

Spencer took exactly 52 minutes and 34 seconds adding books to his new basket. He got a few stares and side glances as he toted it around, mainly from a group of teenagers huddled at a miniature table and chair set in the children’s section. They snickered as they peeked up from their circle at him, but it wasn’t anything Spencer wasn’t used to. All his life people had laughed at him for a variety of reasons—he was too scrawny, too small, too bumbling, too nerdy—the list was miles long. All he could do was grow thicker skin, and he had. So he didn’t let it bother him as he wandered the library, adding books to his basket. 

No, the reason Spencer took so long to pick books was because each time he slipped one into a wicker embrace, he thought of you. He blinked and saw your face like a phantom burned into his retinas. The way the corners of your mouth twisted in your smile when you were so excited to give him the basket flashed and faded in his vision. Sometimes he cursed his eidetic memory because he’d memorized your face in its entirety with all its most miniscule details and peculiarities—and he didn’t even mean to. He would find himself staring into the empty space in the basket and have to drag his brain clawing back into reality.

His watch had ticked past 12 when he made his way back down the stairs to the main floor, lugging his basket in his right hand. It was heavy, weighed by two textbooks and eight other decently thick books, but the woven willow held strong. 

At the landing he could see across the library that you were already checking someone out. He meant to add himself to the queue, but pivoted to a lounge chair between two bookcases just as he got close enough to hear your voice. Immediately he felt wrong, a churning disgust with himself in the pit of his stomach. It was weird, wasn’t it? To watch you from afar just to gauge your behavior? But he had to know, it burdened his brain to wonder if you were just so saccharine it spilled out to everyone around you or if particularly you poured your sugar onto him.

You didn’t see him duck between the shelves to the lounge chair, not in any way that he could tell. With a tranquil neutral face you scanned the book that the college girl at the counter placed in front of you. The interaction was done in comfortable silence, even when you finished the transaction and she said her thank yous, you merely mumbled a “you’re welcome.”

It was different from how you interacted with him, he realized. You were much more playful and chatty with him, but he wasn’t sure what exactly inspired it in you. You were clearly shy, maybe anxious, but in some moments it faded when you talked to him. He didn’t think he said anything particularly special, but thinking you saw something in him that made you so comfortable, so cheerful, made his stomach flip in a way he couldn’t understand.

The next man in the queue placed his book on the counter. He was the only other person waiting. You asked him absent-mindedly for his library card. He was older than you and Spencer, mid to late 40s if Spencer had to guess, but it gave him an idea about how you interacted with men as well. Which was just as bland as your interaction with the college girl before you. Spencer had a fleeting thought that maybe—just maybe—you liked him. Why else would you be so inclined to laugh with him? To be so shy sometimes you couldn’t meet his eyes? He’d read books, watched movies, and he knew the signs. He was just not used to spotting them in women interacting with him.

He cleared his throat as if to shake off the idea. It was vain, and in all likelihood an arrogant over analysis of the little interaction he’s had with you. He was about to get up and put himself in line behind the man when he heard his lurid voice croak out.

“How about you give me a smile, pretty?”

Spencer froze in place, white knuckle grip engraving the grooves of the entwined handle into his palm. Something like anger flared in his chest. It grew hotter as he saw the way you bowed your head even further from the man's sight, pulling your cardigan closer around your body.

“Um, yeah, could I just get your library card?” You squirmed under his leering gaze, lips faintly curling into the most awkward half-smile you could muster. 

Despite the way you clearly showed you were in duress, the man leaned closer over the counter. “My name’s Todd.” He slid his book across the counter to you like that tidbit of information helped any. “I’ll take this book and your number, baby.” Spencer’s jaw clenched.

His body tingled with the readiness to step in, to tell this Todd fucker to leave you be because obviously you weren’t interested. But his mind, the logical side of him, stopped him because Spencer also respected you and your autonomy. He was not an expert on women, but he knew quite a few strong women in the BAU who would be offended if he stepped in to defend them when they were capable of doing it themselves. He definitely didn’t want to offend you if you were able to brush off Todd on your own.

The uncomfortable smile dropped to a grimace. “If I could get your library card. . .” Your hand hesitantly reached for the book only for Todd to grasp your wrist in a tight hand.

“Stop asking for the damn card,” his voice dropped into a growl. “Baby, I’m just trying to talk to you.”

Your arm fought to pull your hand back behind the counter, but Todd’s grip tightened and pulled back to keep you close. “Sir!” Your voice pitched higher, eyes widening almost too big for their frames. “Sir, please let go—”

Todd huffed, face screwing up in frustration. “Why’re you being so difficult?”

“Sir, you’re hurting her and you need to let go now.” Spencer practically flew over to the front desk. It was his instincts as an FBI agent kicking in. The need to de-escalate and protect was driving him. This man was now hurting you and he was not going to allow it to go any further.

Todd’s scowl looked Spencer up and down, assessing whether or not he could take him. He must have come to the conclusion Spencer was not a threat because he puffed up his chest and continued gripping your wrist. However, he was so distracted by Spencer, you were able to yank your arm away, rubbing at your wrist with your free hand. Todd shot you a similar glare before leveling his even angrier gaze back on Spencer.

“We’re just having a conversation here, asshole. So why don’t you get back to your books,” Todd barked at him so loud they had now attracted all the eyes in the library. But Spencer was only looking over at yours—your creased brow and the watery worry the glass highlighted. 

“Spencer, it’s—” You didn’t get to finish as Todd whirled his head between you and Spencer. 

“Spencer? No fucking way this wimp is your boyfriend.” Behind the rage, Todd looked almost smug.

But Spencer wasn’t. He hit his own boiling point and was passed asking politely. He pulled his credentials from his pocket and flipped them open in Todd’s face. “No, I’m the FBI agent who is going to arrest you for harassment, assault, and public disturbance if you don’t get out of this library right now.”

Todd’s head reeled back at the badge in his face, eyes squinting between the lettering and Spencer’s face. Realization of how much shit he was in passed briefly over Todd’s face before reverting to his glower. He must not have wanted trouble with the FBI though, because he started taking steps backwards toward the exit. But he couldn’t leave with a completely bruised ego.

“Whatever man. If you want the uppity bitch so bad you can have her!” Todd slammed open and closed the door as he made his grand exit. The entire library watched it, listening to him as he got his last dig in and fleeing before Spencer could make him eat his words. He didn’t have his cuffs or gun on him, but he’d dealt with enough unsubs to know he didn’t need them to handle Todd. 

When all the eyes slowly went back to their business, sure that Todd wasn’t coming back into the library, Spencer’s gaze returned to you. Your eyes were dinner plates, mouth agape, still clutching your wrist.

Spencer frowned, whispering your name. “Are you okay?”

“You’re an FBI agent. . .” The words slipped out of you in one shocked exhale. His brows furrowed. He just rescued you from an arrogant asshole and that was what you were stuck on, something he’d told you several times.

“Yes? But I told you—” 

“You were serious?” Your head bobbed forward in disbelief. So you really hadn’t been believing what he was saying. 

“Of course, why would I lie about that?” Spencer was confused and deep down a little hurt. It was such an odd thing to lie about to a stranger, he didn’t understand why you thought he wasn’t truthful. 

“I–I don’t know,” your eyes bounced around in a panic. “I thought you were just trying to impress me. I mean—you don’t really look like an FBI agent you’re. . . young? I don’t know, I thought you were flirting with me so I—” Your hand clasped over your mouth. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry, sir—agent—”

“Spencer.”

“What?”

“Call me Spencer,” he gave you a tight lipped smile, a near look of pity on his face. Your complete panic reassured him you were just as embarrassed over the miscommunication as he was. “Technically it would be Doctor, since I have three PhDs—but you can just call me Spencer.”

“But—But I didn’t. . . you were being serious the whole time and I. . .” You stuttered, shaking your head in confusion. “I was so unprofessional. . .”

Spencer chuckled, unable to hold it back. “Unprofessional? Just because I’m an FBI doesn’t mean I can’t like to talk to people. And I like talking to you, you don’t have to be embarrassed about it.” His disappointment dissipated quickly. Your shyness and embarrassment was so genuine and charming he couldn’t find the space to be upset with you beside all his amusement. 

You crossed your arms, somehow becoming even more bashful. “You’re sure it's okay?”

“Of course it's okay.” Spencer grinned.

A small sigh of relief breezed past your lips. “Okay. . . I should—I should definitely apologize for not believing you.” You meet his eyes then with such profound remorse. “Because I am really sorry. It’s just. . . your accomplishments seemed so amazing they were kind of hard to believe, especially for someone so young.”

It was Spencer’s turn to become bashful. His head ducked and he laughed quietly. “I guess they can be hard to believe. Especially when you aren’t meeting me at work. I just thought maybe all the books helped prove it.”

You let out a shaky laugh, eyes wandering back down to the countertop. “I kinda thought that was also to impress me. I didn’t really think you were reading all of them.”

“Well. . . I do.” He shrugged, figuring you had to believe him now. As you smiled at him, he realized he left his basket and books back at the chair. “Speaking of reading, I’ll be right back.”

You eyed him as he retrieved the basket and set it on the counter in front of you along with his library card. “Oh, were you sitting over there?” You looked curious. Certainly you hadn’t seen him sitting there today or anytime before.

Spencer coughed into his fist. “Um, just for a second.” He moved on quickly, removing the books from the basket. “Thank you for this again, by the way, it’s so much easier to carry all the books.”

You hummed, eyebrows jumping up. “Yeah. . . I’m having trouble believing I really gave an FBI agent a picnic basket to carry books in.” You started swiping the books over the barcode scanner, adding them back into the basket once they appeared on the computer screen next to you.

He cracked a half smile. “I think you watch too many movies. We’re not as serious as you think we are.” Hotch’s face flashed in his eyes and he thought maybe they were pretty serious, but not off duty. Hotch could also be serious enough for the whole team sometimes, so maybe he wasn’t a very good example. “And I like the basket. It was nice of you to think about me.”

Your eyes caught on his for a moment, glazed over in thought, so deep you bumped the basket as you went to set the book you held into it. It snapped you back into reality and you watched your hand as you tucked away the book, clearing your throat. “You’re sure it’s not weird?”

Spencer’s head tilted to the left, considering you. He didn’t know what he could do to pull you back from this rut of self-consciousness. He was starting to regret ever pulling out his badge because now you seem standoffish in a way you never were with him before. He wanted to go back to when you laughed and smiled at him and didn’t find him intimidating. “Of course it’s not,” he paused a moment, wetting his lips. “And this isn’t weird either, y’know? Me being in the FBI? I’m still Spencer.”

You looked back at him again, eyes searching his face. “I know that. I’m. . .” You stared at him a second longer, taking in a deep breath and releasing it with a smile. “I’m letting it sink in.” You continued scanning the books quietly, not meeting Spencer’s eyes as he absentmindedly picked at a loose string in his pocket.

His thumb brushed against his FBI credentials and the encounter just before this revelation came flooding back. He glanced over at the double doors as if to make sure Todd had not come back, though Spencer already knew he didn’t. 

“Are you okay?” You met his eyes, brows pulled together. “About before—with that guy?”

“Oh.” You shrugged, rolling your wrist unconsciously. “Yeah, I’m fine. We get one of them every now and again. Normally they’re pretty harmless.” A glimmer of realization passed over your face. “Um, thank you! I should have said that before. Not everyone would have done that.”

Spencer shook his head, waving off your thanks. “Of course. I’m sorry you have to deal with that.” He was again reminded of the fact he was not a woman, and even though his job was to put away serial killers—monsters, creeps, pervs—he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be in your shoes. You shook it off well, but he didn’t doubt you were scared in the moment. Probably wondering how far he would take it, whether your reaction was appropriate, if your employer would be angry at you. He was just glad he was there to step in.

Slowly, you finished scanning all the books, tucking them neatly into the basket in an organized order he thoroughly appreciated. Heaviest books sat at the bottom and lighter books were stacked on top of them. You paused, flipping through the last book in your hand, a biography of Max Born, a German-British physicist. 

“So. . . you really do read 20,000 words per minute?” You had a cheeky grin as you peeked up at him from beneath those frames, and suddenly you were back. Spencer smiled.

“Yup. I also have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal.

You giggled, nodding along. “Right. Well then I guess this isn’t even enough books for you.” A finger waved over at the basket.

“It depends on work, actually. I’m usually busy, but I often have to travel too and then I become really busy so I don’t have time to read,” he explained. When he did sit down to read, he could get through one to three books, depending on their volume. “But yeah, ten books in a week is kind of light.”

You tapped the book in your hand with your thumbs, thinking. “Okay.” Suddenly you dropped the book into the basket, dipping below the desk to set another book in front of him. Examining it, he realized by its orange and yellow coloring it was the same book you had been reading the last time he was in the library. It was The Poetry of Pablo Neruda and from the look of its creased spine and faded orange cover, it was well loved. “You should read this too then.”

Spencer turned the book over in his hands, looking at you with a twisted face of confusion. “But the check out limit is ten books?”

You shook your head, gesturing for him to add it to the basket. “It’s not a library book,” when he still looked puzzled, you continued. “It’s my book. You can borrow it from me.”

Your kindness and generosity was both shocking and overwhelming. Spencer wasn’t sure how he was to thank you for being so gracious to him. He could only think of one thing. So he quickly fumbled his wallet up onto the countertop. “You have to let me give you something for this—”

“Spencer,” as you said his name, your hand covered his as he dug for bills to give you. “You don’t owe me anything.”

He shook his head, bewildered. Not only was your kindness startling, but so was the feeling of your hand on his. He had to stop his body from flinching at the contact. He was mostly uncomfortable at the thought of people touching him, but your palm was warm, soft, and offered the most comfort he’d felt in a while. “The basket and the book? It’s too much. I mean. . . you’re too nice.”

Your lips spread into a bright smile, flashing him your teeth. “Just bring me back your analysis. I’d love to hear what an IQ of 187 can cook up. Deal?”

Spencer laughed, ducking his head as he nodded in agreement. “Deal.”

When the laughter faded and his head came back up, he looked at you for a while longer, just feeling the paperback cover underneath his fingertips. You met his eyes just for a few moments, twiddling your own fingers. “So um, see you next Sunday?” You asked. He dared to see hope in your eyes.

“See you next Sunday,” Spencer agreed again. He hesitated putting the book in his new basket then finally left the front desk, waving you goodbye as he did. He watched over his shoulder you return his wave as he exited through the double doors. 

Spencer walked back to his car practically swinging the basket, so in his head he didn’t even realize he still had a smile on his face. He set The Poetry of Pablo Neruda aside as he disinfected his books and wondered what he would do the rest of his day off. What he was sure of, deep in his chest, was that he was excited for next Sunday. 

-

Part Two

[physalian]

What No One Tells You About Writing Fantasy

Every author has their preferred genres. I love fantasy and sci-fi, but began with historical fiction. I hated all the research that historical fiction demands and thought, if I build my own world, no research required.

Boy, was I wrong.

So to anyone dipping their toe into fantasy/sci-fi, here’s seven things I wish I knew about the genres before I committed to writing for them.

1. You still have to research. Everything.

If you want any of your fantasy battle sequences, or your space ships, or your droids and robots, or your fictional government and fictional politics to read at all believable.

In sci-fi, you research astronomy, robotics, politics, political science, history, engineering, anthropology. In fantasy, you have to research historical battle tactics, geography, real-world mythology, folklore, and fairytales, and much of it overlaps with science fiction.

I say you *have to* assuming you want your work to be original and unique and stand out from the crowd. Fanfic writers put in the research for a 30k word smut fic, you can and will have to research for your original work.

2. Naming everything gets exhausting

I hate coming up with new names, especially when I write worlds and places divorced from Earthly customs and can’t rely on Earthly naming conventions. You have to name all your characters, all your towns, villages, cities, realms, kingdoms, planets, galaxies, star systems.

You have to name your rebel faction, your imperial government, significant battles. Your spaceships, your fantasy companies and organizations, your magic system, made-up MacGuffins, androids, computer programs. The list goes on and on and on.

And you have to do it all without it sounding and reading ridiculous and unpronounceable, or racist. Your fantasy realms have to have believable naming patterns. It. Gets. Exhausting.

3. It will never read like you’re watching a movie

Do you know how fast movies can cut between scenes? Movies can balance five plotlines at once all converging with rapid edits, without losing their audience. Sometimes single lines of dialogue, or single wordless shots are all a scene gets before it cuts. If you try to replicate that by head-hopping around, you will make a mess.

It’s perfectly fine to write like you’re watching a movie, but you can’t rely on visual tricks to get your point across when all you have is text on a page – like slow mo, lens flares, epically lit cinematic shots, or the aforementioned rapid edits.

It doesn’t have to, nor should it, look like a movie. Books existed long before film, so don’t let yourself get caught up in how ~cinematic~ it may or may not look.

4. Your space opera will be compared to Star Wars and Star Trek

And your fairy epic will be compared to Tinkerbell, your vampires to Twilight, your zombies to The Walking Dead, Shaun of the Dead, World War Z. Your wizards and witches and any whisper of a fantasy school for fantasy children will be compared to Harry Potter. Your high fantasy adventure will be compared to Lord of the Rings.

You can’t avoid it, but you can avoid doing it to yourself. When people ask about your book, let them say “oh, you mean like Star Wars” to which you then can say, kind of, except XYZ happens in my book. These IPs will never fade from the public consciousness, not while you exist to read this post, at least, but Harry Potter isn’t the only urban fantasy out there. Lord of the Rings isn’t the only high fantasy. Star Wars isn’t the only space opera.

Yours will be on the shelves right next to them, soon enough, and who knows? You might dethrone them.

5. Your world-building is an iceberg, and your book is the tip

I don’t pay for any of those programs that help you organize your book and mythos. I write exclusively on Apple Notes, MS Word, and Google Suite (and all are free to me). I have folders on Apple Notes with more words inside them than the books they’re written for.

If you try to cram an entire college textbook’s worth of content into your novel, you will have left zero room for actual story. The same goes for all the research you did, all the hours slaving away for just a few details and strings of dialogue.

There’s a balance, no matter how dense your story is. If you really want to include all those extra details, slap some appendices at the end. Commission some maps.

6. The gatekeeping for fantasy and sci-fi is still very real

Pen names and pseudonyms exist for a reason. A female author writing fantasy that isn’t just a backdrop for romance? You have a harder battle ahead of you than your male counterparts, at least in the US. And even then, your female protagonist will be scrutinized and torn apart.

She’ll either be too girly or not girly enough, too sexy, or not sexy enough. She’ll be called a Mary Sue, a radical feminist mouthpiece, some woke propaganda. Every action she takes will be criticized as unrealistic and if she has fans who are girls, they will be mocked, too.

If you have queer characters, characters of color, they won’t be good enough, they won’t please everyone, and someone will still call you a bigot. A lot of someones will still call you a bigot.

Do your due diligence and hire your army of sensitivity readers and listen to them, but you cannot please everyone, so might as well write to please yourself. You’re the one who will have to read it a thousand times until it’s published.

7. Your “original” idea has been done before, and that’s okay

Stories have been told since before language evolved. The sum of the parts of your novel may be original, but even then, it’s colored by the media you’ve consumed. And that’s okay!

How many Cinderella stories are there? How many high fantasies? How many books about werewolves and witches and vampires? Gods and goddesses and celestial beings? Fairies and dragons and trolls? Aliens, robots, alien robots? Romeo and Juliette? Superheroes and mutants?

Zombies may be the avenue through which you tell your story, but it’s not *just* about zombies, is it? It’s about the characters who battle them, the endurance of the human spirit, or the end of an era, the death of a nation. So don’t get discouraged, everyone before you and everyone after will have written someone on the backs of what came before and it still feels new.

[philearning]

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[sweetcalebb]

Computer Science Major Zayne

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚ headcanons ˚୨୧⋆｡˚⋆

zayne, who codes better than he talks, but god—absolutely meltsss for you in soft, subtle ways.

INSPIRED BY @xyzvoid

tysm for letting me use ur concept!! ur gamer!caleb also gave me this idea for CS!zayne <3

—

⋆⁺₊❅。 zayne will make apps for you. he'll sit in his dorm, hoodie rolled up to his sleeves, brows pinched together in annoyance because he can't find what's wrong with his code. he should be doing his assignments, but how he can't forget that offhand comment you made about how messy your notes are. two days later, you get a link from him. it's your own custom-made app that color-codes and sorts them for you.

⋆⁺₊❅。 zayne will let you study with him while he works on his code. he normally doesn't let anyone see him like this—because honesty? he looks a little wrecked; the complete opposite of him in public, typing like he's trying to punish the computer for his mistakes. and when you tease him, saying he looks like he's fighting with his laptop he lets out a low, "i am." but there's a subtle smile playing on his lips.

⋆⁺₊❅。 zayne's never been one for affection, but for you, he'll make an exception. like sometimes, when he's in the middle of debugging, or writing some paper on the program he's using, he'll pull you into his lap, rest his chin on your shoulder, and murmur, "don't move. you're warm.”

⋆⁺₊❅。 to everyone else, zayne is an intimidating, composed computer science prodigy. to you? he's just a sweet, awkward, nerdy boy (still scary smart). because when he's alone with you, he's grumbling under his breath, glaring at his computer screen like it's personally offended him because he can't crack an assignment. and when he's done, he'll crawl into your arms. won't say a word, just lay there.

⋆⁺₊❅。 zayne's screen saver is a candid picture of you taking a nap on his shoulder. you hate it, but he loves it. it's his absolute favorite and he refuses to change it. sometimes, it'll distract him. he knows he should be doing work, but instead he'll sit there like a love-sick fool, eyes roving over the picture like he hasn't seen it a hundred times.

⋆⁺₊❅。 he doesn't care how much work he has left to do. he'll always find time to help you with yours. doesn't matter what class is it either. chemistry? he's patiently walking you through the formulas even though he just relearned the material last night. anatomy? he's skimming your textbooks and then letting you practice on him—turning into your own personal life-size diagram.

⋆⁺₊❅。 just like he isn't one for physical affection, he also isn't one for loud, sappy 'i love you's. no, he builds you a game. a whole game. based on some throwaway comment, like, 'i wish i was a bird'. days later, he's built you a short five-minute game where you play as a bird and at the end there's some sweet little note. it's short, but it's there.

⋆⁺₊❅。 he doesn't say anything, but he's positive he works better with you around. even when you're a little too distracting for your own good, how could he not work better when after every section of his code he finishes, he's pulling you in a slow, lazy kiss, then pulling back like nothing and working again?

⋆⁺₊❅。 sometimes, when you're feeling a little playful, you'll sneak up behind him while he works. you'll trail your lips up his neck, across his jaw, and then finish on that spot behind his ear he loves so much. he’ll mutter a rough, “don’t distract me." it has no real bite though, because before you can even apologize, he's turning around and slipping his hands underneath your shirt, pulling it up, then kissing up your stomach. soft, reverent open mouthed kisses.

⋆⁺₊❅。when zayne's finished with an especially grueling assignment, you'll offer to help him.. unwind. he'll say something short and quiet, like, "no, you don't have to." but he doesn't stop you, just watches with lidded eyes as you kneel down between his legs, tug his jeans down with his boxers and take him into your mouth. his breath hitches. "f-fuh—" he bites his lip to stops himself (bc for some reason he doesn't like cussing in front of you). he breathes out, "you really don't—nngh-" but he can't help it anymore. his hand is hovering over your head, hips twitching. "please don't stop."