#go sit in the lectures without taking the exams in the end

[airenyah]

should i just. study theater- film- und medienwissenschaft

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

To love me better

Tags: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna x fem!Reader, american!Reader, forced/arranged marriage, dark romance trope, dead dove, age gap romance (reader is around 21-22, Sukuna is 37), cursing, suggestive language, use of nicknames like “doll”, use of y/n, NSFW, MDNI, Sukuna is his own warning.

Synopsis: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna owns all of entertainment district. You’re trying to work to put yourself through law school. He has a proposition for you, and you have one for him. Chaos ensues.

An: Professor Higuruma has entered the chat. I’m sorry this part is a little short, but if I included the next scene in this part, it would be WAY too long.

Part one. | Part two. | Part three. | Part four. |

*art creds for sukuna image goes to @.maru6 here on tumblr

You’re starting to believe that you dreamt the whole marriage negotiation with Sukuna.

It had been nearly a week since he sat you down in his office, and he’s been radio silence ever since. So, maybe you dreamt it all, or perhaps he decided against the whole marriage thing. If that was the case, you needed to start looking for other jobs.

Your Friday afternoons were reserved for Higuruma’s criminal law class. You sat at your desk, typing away on your computer that your student loan paid for. It was second-hand from a different girl who had just passed her bar exam. Her parents bought her the newest MacBook on the market as a present.

When you passed your bar exam, you’d probably buy yourself a two thousand yen cake from the grocery store. Maybe you’ll even splurge and spend five thousand yen on an ice cream cake.

You halfway hear your professor assign a plethora of readings spanning from case files to different codes of law.

"It's a good thing C's get degrees, huh?" a sheepish playful voice whispers from beside you. Your eyes glance over towards the guy next to you. You're able to immediately recognize him as Yuji Itadori.

Before Sukuna, you only took notice of Yuji since he tried to make friends with everyone, regardless of social status. Even if you've barely spoken with him, you feel a sort of kinship with him.

Now, your eyes immediately fix on his soft pink hair. While Sukuna's felt more like a dusty rose color. Yuji's was brighter -- untainted from crime.

"Is a C going to help you pass your bar exam though?" you whisper back softly, giving him a smile.

"You're so cruel~" Yuji softly whines as he dramatically slumps back into his chair. You quietly laugh from his theatric display. "And here I thought you'd be so kind and offer to help me study..."

You glance back towards him before scanning everyone else in the lecture. The majority of the other students were dutifully taking notes.

"Uh... why me?" You ask, cocking your eyebrow at the male before you realized how rude that probably sounded. "I mean, why would you ask me for that? Wouldn't you be better off asking the top performers in our class?"

"One of those pretentious jerks? Give me a break," Yuji rolls his eyes as he leans towards you. He's not too close to make you uncomfortable, just close enough to whisper without disturbing anyone. "Besides, you seem nice. Also, we sit beside each other everyday. Aren't those good enough reasons?"

Before you could even think to reply, Higuruma addressed the entire class. It was the end of the lecture period.

“Alright everyone, please remember to have a safe weekend and to stay out of trouble,” Professor Higuruma says from the forefront of the class. Students immediately begin to gather their belongings and shuffle out of the lecture hall.

"Let me know what you decide next week!" Yuji said as he rushed out of the door like he couldn't get away from the academic setting fast enough.

You finish up a few quick edits on your notes before saving them and promptly sliding your laptop into your bag. You thought about checking your phone to see if Sukuna had left you any cryptic messages, but you decided against it. It’s not like you were desperate or anything.

“Ah, Y/n, do you mind staying for a bit? I would like a word with you,” Higuruma’s voice spoke up. He wasn’t nearly as loud as he could be while lecturing.

Your body tenses as you slowly pull your messenger bag over your shoulder. “Sure…” you respond hesitantly.

He knows. He knows that you’re practically engaged to a yakuza lord. He knows that you’ve been dancing dangerously close to sin at Malevolent Mass. He’s going to report you to student affairs. He’s—

Your mind swirls with all of your thoughts Your brain was running so fast you could barely keep up.

The last student leaves the lecture hall, and you can hear the soft sounds of the second hand ticking from the clock mounted to the wall.

Your steps are slow and calculated. Higuruma was at his desk, collecting papers into his bag. He then looked up at you and gave you a calm, fond smile.

You try to ease your weary heart, telling yourself that he’d look much less happy if he had caught onto you.

"I apologize. I'm sure you must be busy," he starts out as he finishes packing up his bag. He straightened his posture, having to look down at you now that he wasn't hunched over. "I wanted to just touch base with you about your paper."

"Oh okay," you inwardly let out a huge sigh of relief, but your curiosity soon resurfaced. "What about my paper?"

"Don't worry. It was a great paper, y/n. I have read summations from licensed attorneys that pale in comparison to your paper." You narrow your eyes at him, feeling a gnawing sensation of anxiety sink in.

"But..?" you prompt.

Higuruma gives a knowing smile, appreciative of your inquisitive nature. "But I was wondering what made you write about spousal privilege... The last I checked you were looking to be civil litigation attorney -- not a criminal defense attorney. So, why would you want to research something like spousal privilege?"

You swallow thickly. You had found interest in spousal privilege due to your arrangement with Sukuna. Spousal privilege allowed for wives and husbands to refuse to testify against their spouse if it would indict their spouse on any crime. There were specifications on this law, and there were certain instances were spousal privilege couldn't be upheld. Overall, Japan looked to uphold the sanctity of marriage, and you looked to uphold your image by not being called to testify against your husband one day.

"Oh... I just found it to be interesting. I think it's good for all attorneys to be well-rounded, right?" you finally respond, giving your best attempt at bluffing the criminal defense attorney Hiromi Higuruma.

"You're most certainly right." He places his messenger bag on his shoulder. "I was just looking forward to you switching majors. It'd be a pleasure to steal one of Kento Nanami's best proteges."

You feel your face warm from his overzealous compliment. You were definitely not one of Nanami's best students. Still, you enjoyed the praise.

"I'm sorry to disappoint," you give a small laugh, consciously making an effort to joke with him naturally.

“Disappoint? No, no, you impress me.” His eyes meet yours, and for the first time since starting school, you see him for who he is. He had been nothing but kind, patient, and nurturing. He cared a lot about the subject he taught, and he tried his hardest to help his students learn.

Criminal defense attorneys get a bad wrap for being arrogant and pretentious to a degree, and that’s not exactly a lie either. You’ve seen Higuruma in court before. You know his persona can overwhelm a courtroom easily with his confidence.

“I really appreciate that, Mr. Higuruma.” You drop his gaze, letting your eyes rest upon the floor as a small smile curled up on your lips.

“You can call me Hiromi when we’re not in class,” Higuruma said as he walked towards the door. He held his hand out for you to follow him. “Well, if you ever have any doubts about civil law, please let me be the first to know. I’d love to have you on the criminal law side.”

You follow beside him closely, and you feel a warmth rush your cheeks as Hiromi hovers his hand over the small of your back. He wasn’t exactly touching you, but you could feel him there — guiding you.

“I promise I’ll come to you first if I ever want to betray Mr. Nanami,” you laugh softly, but your mind is racing, wondering where he was guiding you.

Coincidentally enough, a tall muscular figure with blonde hair was walking towards you two in the hall. “Who’s betraying me?” Nanami asked as he walked closer towards you and Hiromi.

Your eyes flicker back and forth between Nanami, Hiromi, and the girl who was standing beside Nanami. You took a moment, trying to place her here as a student, but you came up short.

“Stop trying to steal my students away from me,” Nanami lightheartedly scolded Hiromi with an eye roll.

“It’s not stealing if she decides to leave civil law on her own volition. I’m simply showing her the good side to law,” Hiromi responded. You feel your back arch a bit underneath his touch as his hand rested against your back now with more casualty.

“Ah yes, the good side. Also known as the side who gets troublemakers off the hook. Don’t forget, y/n. Civil law is all about holding people accountable. Criminal law is about being the least accountable,” Nanami said with a calm smile. Your eyes wandered towards Nanami’s hand, noticing it was also placed on the young woman’s back. What was going on here?

“Alright. That’s enough from you,” Hiromi warmly laughed. It was a laugh that put your nerves at ease. Still, your skin crawled where his hand was placed. Your mind flashed back to the club, remembering how it felt when Sukuna had his hand in that exact spot, guiding you to his office.

Sukuna’s touch oddly felt like a warm security blanket, while Hiromi’s touch felt like static electricity building. You knew you were about to get shocked.

“Miss Nanami, it’s always good to see you.” Hiromi bowed slightly with respect. You feel the weight of realization set in on you. That was Nanami’s wife who he was touching like that.

“You as well,” Nanami’s wife responded fondly.

“Alright. Let’s go, Destinee, before Hiromi also tries to indoctrinate you into some sort of criminal law degree.”

Hiromi merely laughed before guiding you away from Nanami and his wife. You felt your heart start to thud in your chest. Where was he leading you?

“You don’t have any other classes today, do you?” Hiromi asked as he looked to his side. He had to crane his neck downwards to look at you thanks to the size difference.

You bit your lip slightly out of nervous habit, wondering if you should lie to him. His hand felt heavy on your back, and a weird sensation of guilt was pooling in your stomach. You weren’t even exactly committed to Sukuna yet since you hadn’t signed whatever contract, but you two have a verbal agreement.

You had already begun to feel some sort of loyalty to the yakuza lord, and maybe that was because you knew he wouldn’t take seeing Hiromi’s hand on you lightly.

Still, you reminded yourself that your professor hadn’t done anything wrong yet. The hand on your back could be seen as a supportive touch. Perhaps he didn’t know how he was coming off right now.

“No, I was going to use the rest of today to write a paper for my economics class,” you say finally after a beat of silence.

“Aren’t you such a good student? Are you struggling in any of your classes?” he asked as he reached out and opened up the door for you. Your eyes blinked as you had to adjust to the afternoon sun beating down.

Maybe he was just walking with you out towards the parking lot. You quirked an eyebrow as you realized this was the staff parking lot though. Your dorm was in the complete opposite direction.

“Uh.. well, not really..” you replied sheepishly, trying to soothe your nerves. This just kept getting worse and worse by the second. “My lowest grade this semester is copyright law.”

“Mmph, yeah, that one is unnecessary tedious. You’ll rarely work on cases of copyright infringement,” Hiromi nodded thoughtfully. “Listen, I know it’s easy to get caught up with being a law student, so I was wanting to know if you wanted to grab a bite to eat together. We can chat about whatever you want whether it be about school or—“

A loud roar of an engine and tires squealing into the parking lot completely cut Hiromi off. You instinctively jumped back a little out of fear that the car was going to ram right into you.

A car that didn’t even look like it belonged on regular civilian streets came to halt right in front of where you and Hiromi were standing. The engine purred lowly as it sat idly in the parking lot.

Hiromi furrowed his eyebrows as he stared at the car. No professor had the money to afford a Maserati GT2 Stradale.

Your eyes admired the car in front of you. In all of your time of living, you had never had the luxury of seeing such a car. It was completely blacked out, but in the direct sun, a subtle deep red tint shined through. It was flip painted. It was your saving grace — your prince charming. The license plate on the front read, R. SUKUNA.

The butterfly car door opened upwards, and you held your breath. You had never been more happy to see Sukuna in your life, yet you also felt confused. How did he get into the staff parking lot..? It was guarded by security.

Slowly, your future husband stepped out of the car, rolling up the sleeves to his black button-up top. Even while you were outside, Sukuna’s dominating presence filled the air.

“Can I help you, sir?” Higuruma asked, his face hardening at Sukuna. You wondered what he must be thinking about all this. Did Hiromi know about Sukuna’s status? He is a defense attorney, so it’s not completely out of the realm of possibility.

“No, but she can,” Sukuna gave a feline grin as he held out his hand and curled his finger towards himself, beckoning for you to come with him.

You took a deep breath, knowing that you really couldn’t refuse Sukuna. Also, you didn’t want to know what getting dinner with Hiromi would lead to.

“Ah, I’m sorry. Maybe a rain check?” you said as you gave a polite smile up towards your professor. His eyebrows furrowed, mouth slightly agape as he looked down at you.

As soon as you went to peel yourself from his side, Higuruma suddenly grasped your arm. It wasn’t enough to hurt you, but it was firm enough to stop you dead in your tracks.

“You can tell me if you don’t feel safe with him. You can give me some sort of nonverbal cue..” his voice was low enough for only you to hear. You were briefly taken aback by Hiromi’s kindness, but you also found it ironic how you felt less safe when it was just you and him.

“I’m fine.”

Sukuna watched interaction, and he cocked an eyebrow. He felt an unfamiliar tight feeling in his chest. The thought of him untucking his gun from where it was concealed in his waistband crossed his mind briefly, but he decided against it quickly. It would cause too much of a scene. Too many variables.

“Hiromi Higuruma, is it?” Sukuna asked, but he already knew the answer. “The famous criminal defense attorney who spends his free time teaching other future aspiring attorneys. How kind of you.”

“That’s me. I’ll ask again. Can I help you?” Hiromi’s hand hadn’t unwrapped from your arm yet. His jaw was tight as his dark eyes looked at Sukuna with suspicion.

“You can start by letting go of my wife.” Sukuna said as he took a step closer. His hands were shoved in his pockets, giving off a confident display. You could see the curvature of his muscles bulging through his shirt as if he didn’t already look big enough.

Hiromi’s eyes slightly widened as he looked down at you. All of the admiration and praise had melted from his gaze. You felt your heart drop to your stomach. It was as if you had disappointed him in some form or capacity.

He silently let go of your arm, conceding in the battle with Sukuna over you. “Nonverbal cue,” he muttered to you, still cautious that you’re maybe being forced to do this.

Little does he know, you’re the one who proposed marriage to Sukuna.

You walked straight towards Sukuna, not daring to look back at Hiromi as you didn’t think you could handle the look on his face.

Sukuna immediately enveloped your smaller body in his arms, giving you a hug that could only be described as a hug that a husband gives his wife. He had to lean down to fully hold onto you. You shivered as his nose and lips just barely brushed against the crook of your neck.

Your arms could barely wrap around him, hugging him back to fulfill the facade of being a happy wife. Your face was tucked into his chest, and his cologne assaulted your nose. His scent was deep and heavy with notes of cedar wood, leather, and tobacco.

Despite this being a facade, it felt safe and secure. Nothing could touch you right now.

In all of his time of working with accused criminals, Hiromi had never felt true fear until Sukuna’s eyes met his while he looked over your shoulder. He could practically see the red hues of Sukuna’s eyes darken as he stared him down. Hiromi could feel Sukuna marking you as his territory. It felt like time stood still for everyone.

“Let’s go, sweetheart. I have reservations for us,” Sukuna’s dark gravely voice broke the silence, and Hiromi watched as Sukuna placed his hand on your hip, guiding you over to the passenger side seat. He opened the door for you and made sure you were settled before shutting you in.

Sukuna shot one last glare in Hiromi’s direction before he got into the driver’s side and sped off.

Hiromi let out a deep sigh. How did such a pretty young student like you get caught up in this? His fingers came up, and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he pulled out his cellphone. He had to report this, even if it put you as risk.

It took several rings for the phone to pick up. “Yeah?”

“Gojo? Sukuna was just at the school. He was heading north.”

The other end of the line promptly went dead.

Taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby @lizatonix @starmapz @everywonuu @totallygyomeiswife @sukubusss @depressiondiaries @t4naiis @hishearttohave @soraya-daydreams @lulunx @s-1-xx @el-lise @prettyngeto @marifujioka @iheartlinds @gina239 @actuallynarii @shxyxyxxxx @krispycreamepie @emoedgylord @nina-from-317 @pandabiene5115 @paintedperidot @dissociativewriter @lmaoshush @ninani-nanina @sadrna @boisenberry77 @tojifush @erwinawesomeness @meanwhilesomewhereelse @safasz @kassfunk19 @moncher-ire @gradmacoco @riahlynn-102 @diduzzula @juiceeypeach

[littlebluebird2000]

TEACHERS PET

pairing: yeon si-eun x reader (female reader)

rating: 18+

genre: romance, smut

warnings: overprotective sieun, smut, mature language, jealousy, age differences, student/teacher. (the characters are aged in this)

summary: you were a top student at one of seoul's most prestigious universities. you aced every exam, followed every rule, and kept your focus sharp. everything was going well for you until you caught your boyfriend of eight months cheating. after a tense confrontation, the last person you expected to step in was your cold and distant professor, Yeon Sieun. what started as a protective gesture quickly turned into something neither of you could ignore... in a university full of expectations, falling for each other might have been the one problem you couldn't solve.

author's note: this is a new story ive been working on. please take a moment to read the content warning carefully. the reader is a university student and therefore of legal age. there is a small age gap between her and professor sieun, and the story explores a power dynamic that may not be for everyone. if that makes you uncomfortable, this might not be the right read for you. i hope you enjoy it

word count: 9k+

follow #bluebirdyeonsieun for updates on my stories

You had always taken school seriously, but something about Professor Yeon’s class made you sit straighter, focus harder. Maybe it was the way he explained complex theories like they were simple truths, never once stumbling or needing to check his notes. He was always calm, direct and self-assured. Unlike most professors, he didn’t avoid the eyes of his students. He spoke without hesitation, scanning the room as he explained advanced concepts with an ease that sometimes didn’t feel human. There was a quiet power in the way he moved, in the way he seemed entirely at home with silence.

He wasn’t old. In fact, he didn’t look much older than some of the students in your year. That made the rumors even stranger. People whispered about his past like it was campus folklore. Fights. Stabbings. Someone ending up in a coma… The idea was almost absurd. How could someone with a record like that stand in front of a lecture hall at one of the country’s top universities?

Still, the silence around him felt earned. He didn’t speak unless necessary. He didn’t laugh at the other professors’ jokes in the hall. And when he taught, the room went still. Not from fear, exactly. It was something else. Like gravity.

You never missed a single assignment. Your test scores were always in the upper nineties or perfect. After the first few papers, you began to notice the handwriting. A neat, slanted note next to your grade. “Excellent.” “Well done.” “Good work.”

They weren’t elaborate compliments, but they stuck with you. Because they were rare. And because they came from him.

But today, your head was somewhere else. The sting in your chest still felt fresh.

You saw it with your own eyes.

He didn’t see you—your boyfriend, if you could still call him that. You had turned the corner into the library’s back corridor, expecting to find him at your usual study spot. Instead, you found him tucked between the shelves with another girl, her hand tangled in his shirt.

You didn’t say anything. Didn’t make a scene. You backed away quietly, heart thudding loud enough that it felt like it echoed through the rows of books. He still doesn’t know you saw. Maybe he thought he got away with it…

Now, you were seated in your calculus lecture, blinking hard to stop the sting in your eyes.

The hour dragged. You kept your head down, fingers clenched on your pen. When the class ended and students began gathering their things, you stood too, moving slowly.

Then you heard it.

“Miss Y/N.” His voice called from the front. Calm. Clear. “Stay for a moment.”

You froze.

A few students looked your way, then kept walking. The room emptied in seconds.

You turned to face him. He was standing by his desk, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, arms crossed loosely. His eyes were on you, unreadable.

“You’re usually more alert in class.” He said plainly.

Your heart thudded. You weren’t sure what surprised you more. That he noticed. Or that he cared enough to say something.

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry, Sir. I just didn’t sleep well.”

He tilted his head slightly. “You didn’t take notes…You look like you’ve been crying.”

The truth hung at the edge of your mouth, but you didn’t speak.

He studied you for another quiet moment. Then, softer than you expected, he asked. “Was it something someone did?”

The gentleness in his tone caught you off guard. You hesitated, then nodded once.

“I see.” He didn’t push for more. Instead, he picked up your test from the pile on his desk, and handed it to you.

The score read 100.

Next to it, in the same careful handwriting, was a small note: “Still excellent. Keep working hard.”

You stared at the words. The burn in your chest shifted. You met his gaze. His expression hadn’t changed, but his eyes were softer now. You’d always thought his eyes were beautiful. Sharp, but not harsh. Captivating in the quietest way. And now, in this moment, they made you feel like maybe you weren’t invisible after all…

“Take care of yourself, Miss Y/N.” Was all he said as he sat at his desk again, picking up his pen as if nothing had happened.

You nodded, unable to speak. As you turned to go, you gave him a small, respectful bow. Then you stepped out of the classroom, but something lingered. It felt as if his gaze was still on you, warm and quiet, trailing behind like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁

You had ignored every single message he’d sent since yesterday. The apologies. The excuses. The question marks. You saw them all light up your screen, one after another, and left them there.

Unread and unanswered.

You didn’t want to confront him, not yet. Instead, you avoided him. Changed routes. Ate lunch in the quietest corner of campus. Strategically ducked out of rooms before he could get to you.

By the time your final class rolled around, Professor Yeon’s math lecture, you were ready to focus again. You couldn’t afford to fall behind. Not after yesterday.

So you sat straighter. Took cleaner notes. Let the steady, clipped rhythm of Professor Yeon’s voice ground you. He was confident today, like always, standing in front of the whiteboard as if nothing could shake him.

When class ended, you gathered your belongings in a hurry. You didn’t notice the way Professor Yeon watched you from the front of the room, his gaze lingering with a quiet intensity. He said nothing, but his eyes followed you as you walked out.

The hallway outside was mostly empty. And then he was there.

Your ex-boyfriend.

“Why are you avoiding me?” His voice was low, angry at the edges.

You stared at him. For a second, you didn’t say anything. Then you quietly answered. “I know what you did.”

You turned and began to walk toward the exit, your heart in your throat. The corridor was empty, silent. Your steps echoed.

“Y/N, what the fuck do you mean?” He grabbed your arm, forcing you to turn and face him.

“I saw you. In the library. With that girl.” You said, voice trembling. Your eyes stung again. “We’re over.”

You tried to walk again, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled you into an empty classroom.

You stumbled in, your books clutched tightly to your chest.

“Y/N, don’t do this. You’re blowing things out of proportion.” He started, his tone shifting like oil on water. “It didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t even like that.”

When you didn’t respond, his words grew rushed. “I messed up, okay? I’m sorry. You can’t just cut me off like this.”

Still, you stayed silent. Holding yourself still, even as your hands trembled.

That was when the apology vanished from his face. His jaw clenched, and he turned sharply, knocking over a chair with a loud crash. He started pacing, angry now, muttering to himself. Another chair was kicked aside.

“Say something!” He snapped, stepping toward you. “Don’t just stand there like—”

The door creaked open.

You both froze.

Professor Yeon stepped inside. Slowly. Calmly.

His gaze swept the room, landing on you first. Tear-streaked. Clutching your books to your chest. Then it shifted to the boy beside you, hand still on your arm.

“What are you doing?” He asked him, voice low and steady. There was no emotion in it, but the coldness in his tone cut through the room like a blade.

Your ex let go of your arm instantly. “I—I wasn’t doing anything, we were just talking—” He faked an apologetic smile. “It’s just a misunderstanding. She’s being emotional.”

“No. She said it’s over.” The professor said, stepping further inside. “So why are you still here?”

Your ex scoffed, his voice too loud in the silence. He laughed, but it sounded forced. “Come on, you’re what, twenty-five? You get it, right? You were my age not that long ago.”

Professor Yeon tilted his head slightly. “That’s where you’re wrong. I was never like you.”

Your ex’s grin faded. He blinked, caught off guard, unsure whether he’d just been insulted. But then the professor’s gaze cut deeper.

“And I never needed excuses to justify hurting someone.”

The words landed like a blow.

Your ex just stood there, stunned. His mouth opened, then closed, but no sound came out. His confidence drained from his face, replaced with something unfamiliar. Fear, maybe. Or realization.

But Professor Yeon didn’t give him time to recover. His attention shifted back to you. His gaze was softer now, like he was seeing only you.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Professor Yeon asked you directly.

Your knees nearly gave out at the sound of it. Sweetheart. Not sarcastic. Not mocking. Just… gentle. Your tears slipped out before you could stop them. You nodded, barely, still clutching your books tightly to your chest. You couldn’t speak, but he could see it all in your face.

Professor Yeon looked back at your ex. His expression hadn’t changed, but something sharp glinted in his eyes.

“If you’re man enough, you’ll take responsibility and walk away. You will not speak to her again. You will not touch her again. If you understand what’s good for you, you will leave. Now.”

A pause. Then, more firmly, he added, “Leave. Now. That’s the only warning you’ll get.”

Your ex hesitated, looking between you and the professor. But there was no room left to argue. He lowered his gaze and left in silence.

The room fell silent again. You were still standing there, shaking slightly, tears wet on your cheeks.

Professor Yeon didn’t say anything at first. He just walked to your side and quietly reached out, brushing a thumb just below your eye. His touch was barely there.

“You did well.” He said softly. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”

You nodded, your throat tight.

“Come on.” He added gently. “Let’s get you out of here.”

He waited until you moved, then followed close beside you. The hallway outside was empty and quiet, the kind of stillness that made everything feel louder in your head.

At the stairwell, he stopped and looked over at you. “Do you live nearby?”

“About ten minutes away.” You said, voice soft.

He was quiet for a second. Then, “Let me give you a ride.”

You looked up at him, surprised. “Oh— You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t.” He interrupted calmly. “But I want to. You’ve been through enough today.”

You hesitated, the words caught somewhere between pride and exhaustion. But the sincerity in his voice left no room for doubt. He wasn’t offering out of pity. He meant it.

“…Okay.” You said quietly.

He nodded once and gestured for you to follow him. The walk to the staff parking lot was silent. When he unlocked the car, he opened the passenger door for you. The gesture was simple, effortless even, but it made heart fluttered in your chest. No one had done that for you in a long time. Maybe ever.

You slipped inside and pulled your seatbelt on. As he rounded to the driver’s side, you stared ahead, trying to calm yourself. It felt strange sitting in your professor’s car. You weren’t sure what the rules were for a moment like this, or if there were any at all…

A moment later, the door opened and he slid into the driver’s seat. The engine started with a low hum, and he pulled away from the parking .

You turned slightly in your seat, voice soft. “Thank you… for what you did back there.”

He didn’t look at you right away, eyes still focused on the road ahead. “You don’t need to thank me.”

“I want to.” You said, voice quiet but firm. “No one’s ever stood up for me like that.”

He finally looked at you, just briefly, but the unspoken kindness in his gaze caught you off guard. “That says more about the people around you than it does about you.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. So you sat back in your seat, holding the warmth of his words close. Somehow, his presence made it easier to breathe.

You gave him quiet directions, guiding him through familiar streets while the hum of the car filled the silence. When he pulled up to your building, he shifted the car into park and looked over at you. You unbuckled your seatbelt, fingers lingering on the strap as you turned to him.

“Thank you again, sir.” You said softly.

His gaze lingered on you, and for the first time, it didn’t feel purely academic. “You don’t have to call me that when we’re off campus.” He said, something like a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Unless you want to.”

Your breath hitched. You looked down quickly, flustered, heat blooming in your cheeks.

“I’ll… keep that in mind.” You murmured, flustered but trying to stay composed.

He leaned back in his seat, still watching you. “Take care of yourself.” He added, voice low. “You deserve better than what you had.”

You blinked, caught off guard by how gently he said it.

“I will.” You said, almost in a whisper.

You bowed slightly, out of habit and respect, then stepped out of the car. As you reached the entrance to your building, you glanced back just once. He was still there, watching, just until you were safely inside.

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Over the past few weeks, something had been shifting between you and Professor Yeon.

It was subtle and steady, like a current just beneath the surface. There was no clear starting point, only a collection of quiet moments that started to build on each other. You began to notice the way his eyes would find you during lectures. He never stared or lingered too long, but his gaze was there. You would glance up and catch him already looking, as if he had been watching for a while, silently and unreadable. He never smiled, or at least he rarely did… But he was always gentle with you when you spoke.

He had started doing small things, quiet gestures just as class was about to end. He would glance in your direction with the slightest tilt of his head or slow down while packing up his things. And you understood. He wanted you to stay.

You always did.

You weren’t doing anything wrong. You were just talking…

But still, it felt like something secret.

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The lecture had ended. Your classmates were filing out one by one, the sound of their voices fading into the hallway. You stayed seated, flipping through your notes with no real purpose, your pencil tapping lightly against the edge of your notebook.

You glanced up and saw him still at the front, stacking papers neatly. Then, just for a second, his eyes met yours. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

You stayed.

When the door finally closed behind the last student, the room fell quiet. The chalkboard still held a partial equation from earlier—something about second-order differentials. You barely remembered writing it down.

“You understood the substitution method, didn’t you?” His voice was quieter than usual. Less formal.

You nodded. “Yeah. It made more sense when I practiced it later.”

He watched you for a moment, then nodded once in return. “You’re quick,” he said. “You always are.”

A few weeks ago, that would’ve startled you. He used to intimidate you: the way he never smiled, the way he seemed to be thinking five steps ahead of everyone else. But lately, something about him had softened. Or maybe he’d just let you see a part of him no one else did.

“You’ve been speaking up more.” He added.

You shrugged lightly. “I guess I’m not as nervous anymore, Sir.”

There was a pause before he said, voice even lower, “I never cared if your answers were wrong. Don’t be nervous around me.”

You nodded at the professor, then looked down, fidgeting with the edge of your notebook. A moment passed before you spoke, your voice soft and uncertain. “I… I’ve come to enjoy this.” You said, barely meeting his eyes. “Talking with you.”

Another pause. The kind of silence that made you hyperaware of every breath, every heartbeat.

“So have I.” He said, more to himself than to you. He blinked, like he was lost in thoughts. Then something shifted in his expression. His expression eased, and a smile tugged faintly at the corner of his mouth. Not wide. Not obvious, but it was there.

You caught something in his eyes, a flicker of emotion that was hard to name. It made your pulse quicken, even if you couldn’t explain why.

“Do you have time?” He asked, voice quieter than usual. “We could talk more comfortably… in my office.”

He said it calmly, as though he was just suggesting a better place to discuss equations… And maybe he was. But something about the way the air shifted told you otherwise.

You nodded before you even realized you were going to.

He didn’t say anything else, just grabbed his folder and held the door for you as you followed him out.

The hallway was quiet. It always was this time of day. Your footsteps echoed alongside his, soft and even, your heart slightly louder than both.

Halfway down the corridor, you passed another professor heading in the opposite direction. A tall man in a brown blazer who looked up as he recognized Sieun.

For a second, you tensed.

But Professor Yeon didn’t miss a step. He only gave a slight bow of his head, a brief, neutral greeting.

It was nothing. Polite. Professional. From the outside, it looked like nothing more than a student being called in to discuss coursework. Or, at worst, receiving a quiet reprimand after class. Nothing unusual. Nothing worth remembering.

You glanced up at him, but his expression hadn’t changed. Unbothered. Focused. He didn’t seem to care what it looked like.

And somehow, that made you follow him even more willingly.

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You’d never been inside his office before.

He opened the door and held it for you, stepping aside without a word. You hesitated just long enough to feel it, the awareness of where you were and what this meant, before stepping inside.

The lighting was dim. The walls were lined with shelves, row after row of worn textbooks, journals, and thick, serious volumes. A few framed certificates hung neatly between them, next to a handful of awards you didn’t dare look at for too long. It was the kind of space that demanded silence.

It smelled like coffee.

And him.

Something warm and sharp and clean, like fresh paper and cologne.

You heard the click behind you.

You turned slightly, just in time to see him lock the door.

He didn’t explain it. He just turned the bolt with a soft snap, then walked past you toward the desk like it was nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe professors did that all the time to signal they were in a meeting?

But your pulse skipped anyway.

He moved quietly, loosening the sleeves of his shirt, rolling them to his forearms with practiced ease. You’d seen him do it in class before, but now, in the closeness of this space, it felt different. Personal. Like something you weren’t supposed to see this way.

“Have a seat.” He said gently, motioning to the chair across from his. You sat, slowly. The leather was cool beneath you, and the quiet between you both settled like a weight. You glanced around the room again, pretending to take it in, but your attention kept circling back to him.

This was his space. It was precise, contained, clean, just like him. Still, it felt like you’d been let into something private

Something that didn’t have rules.

Professor Yeon took the seat across from you, leaning back slightly as his eyes settled on yours. His expression was difficult to read in the dim light. For a moment, he stayed quiet, watching you with that calm, measured focus he always seemed to have. Then he spoke, his voice quiet and steady, but with a softness you hadn’t heard before.

“Have you been doing well?” He asked. “Outside of school, I mean.”

The question caught you off guard.

You blinked, then gave a quick nod—maybe too quick, like your body moved before your mind had fully caught up. You thought that might be the end of it, that he would move on or let the silence stretch, but he wasn’t finished.

“Especially…” he paused, his gaze lowering briefly before lifting to meet yours. ”Has he been bothering you?”

You knew exactly who he meant.

You shifted in your seat, surprised by the directness of his voice. But his tone hadn’t changed. It was still calm. Still quiet. Just serious in a way that felt deliberate. Protective, almost.

You shook your head. “No. He hasn’t. Actually… he texted me not long after that day.” You glanced down at your hands, fidgeting slightly as you spoke.“He apologized. Said he knew he treated me badly. That he was wrong, and that I deserved better.”

Even now, repeating it felt strange.

“I didn’t expect it. He’s not the kind of person who owns up to anything. But this time, I don’t know… he sounded different. Like he meant it.”

You looked back up, trying to read Professor Yeon’s face. But whatever you were searching for, you couldn’t find it.

He didn’t speak right away. He only nodded once, slowly, and then shifted his gaze toward the desk, fingers brushing idly over a stack of papers as if in thought.

What you didn’t know, what you couldn’t have guessed, was that the apology hadn’t been entirely your ex’s idea…

Professor Yeon had made sure of it.

Quietly. Carefully. In the same cold, calculating way he handled everything else. A warning here. A veiled threat there. And finally, a promise your ex couldn’t afford to test.

It had taken work.

But it was done.

Now, the boy was out of the picture. And as far as Sieun was concerned, that was exactly where he’d stay.

“I’m glad.” He said finally, voice soft again. “You shouldn’t have to deal with someone like that anymore.”

You watched him for a moment, the quiet between you stretching out.

“Sir?” You said softly.

His eyes met yours, steady and open. “Yes?”

You hesitated, then asked, “Why do you care so much?”

His expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes flickered, like you’d touched on something he wasn’t used to explaining.

“I mean…You’ve always been kind to me…” Your words trailed off for a second. “You care. More than a professor usually would. And I don’t really understand why.”

The question hung in the air. You weren’t accusing him. You weren’t even expecting a full answer. You just needed to know.

For a moment, you wondered if you’d gone too far. If maybe he’d remind you that he was your professor, that your relationship was purely academic, that you were overstepping.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze fixed on the space just past your shoulder. He looked like he was weighing his words, carefully.

“At first.” He said slowly, “I told myself it was just because you’re a good student. Focused. Disciplined. The kind of person any professor would pay attention to.”

He paused, eyes flicking back to yours.

“But it didn’t stay just that.”

His voice was quiet, controlled, but something beneath it had shifted. It was less polished now. A little more honest.

“You were different. You never tried to impress anyone. You just… showed up, quietly carrying more than you should’ve had to. And I saw that.”

You didn’t move. Couldn’t.

His gaze held yours, steady and unreadable.

“And maybe I started to notice things I shouldn’t.”

Your breath caught.

“The way you looked at me sometimes, like you were trying not to. Or how you lingered a little longer after class, even when you didn’t have a question. And how it never felt like you were playing a game.”

His voice dipped slightly.

“I care because I see you. And I think you see me too, even if you don’t mean to.”

You didn’t know what to say. The air between you felt heavier now, not suffocating but full. His words lingered in your chest, unsettling in a way that felt uncomfortably real.

“And maybe.” He added, just barely above a whisper. “That’s why you’re still here.”

You didn’t know what to say. Your mouth parted slightly, but the words didn’t come. The warmth started to rise, crawling up your neck and blooming across your cheeks.

He noticed.

Of course he did.

His mouth curved into something faint and knowing. His voice, when it came again, was softer now, lower, with a faint teasing edge. “Are you blushing?” He asked, head tilting just slightly. “That’s cute.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and you immediately looked away, but the damage was done. The heat only spread.

You heard the faintest hum of amusement in his throat. “Come here,” he said gently.

You glanced back at him, unsure if you had heard him correctly.

He nodded, his tone coaxing now. “Just come here.”

You stood slowly. Your legs felt a little uncertain, but you moved, cautious and quiet. Stepping around his desk felt like stepping into something else, something unspoken and impossible to define. He watched you closely, eyes never leaving your face.

When you reached him, he leaned back just a little in his chair, his eyes looking up at you from this closer angle. There was something calm in his expression, but also something pleased, something unreadable glinting behind his eyes.

“See?” He murmured. “Not so difficult.”

His eyes didn’t move from yours as he reached for your hand. His touch was light, giving you time, giving you space if you needed it. But you didn’t pull away.

He gave a gentle tug, and you stepped closer, knees brushing his. The air between you tightened, filled with quiet understanding. He pulled again, slower this time, guiding you without force.

You let him.

Your knees bent as you moved, settling one leg on either side of him until you were straddling his thighs. His chair creaked beneath the shift of your weight. You placed your hands on his shoulders for balance, your breath caught in your throat.

His hands rested at your waist. Not possessive, not rough. Just… there.

“You’re trembling.” He murmured.

You were. Only slightly, but enough that he noticed.

He looked up at you, his voice low and careful. “If you want to stop, say so. I’ll listen.”

Slowly, he reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers brushed your cheek as they lingered there, and you leaned into the touch without thinking.

His other hand remained at your waist, grounding you. “You drive me crazy.” He said, barely above a whisper. His thumb traced along your cheekbone as he held your gaze. “I shouldn’t want you like this.”

The words weren’t cold or harsh. They were quiet. Honest. A confession more than anything else.

“But I do.” He murmured. “And it’s already too late for me.”

Your breath hitched.

His hand slid from your cheek to cup your jaw, holding you gently, his eyes flicking between yours and your lips.

Then he kissed you.

Slowly at first. Testing. Careful.

You didn’t pull away.

So he kissed you deeper, his mouth soft but sure against yours, his hand at your waist drawing you just a little closer.

His lips moved against yours with a kind of restraint that made the moment even more intense. He wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t demanding. He was savoring. Like he had waited for this, thought about it, and now that it was real, he wanted to feel every second of it.

His hand stayed firm at your jaw, thumb gently stroking your skin, as if trying to calm you even as he deepened the kiss. The other hand pressed more fully at your waist now, guiding you subtly against him.

You shifted in his lap without meaning to, and he exhaled softly into your mouth. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing harder now.

“I wasn’t supposed to touch you,” He said quietly, eyes still closed. “I kept telling myself I wouldn’t.”

You stayed still, your hands now resting lightly on his shoulders. He finally opened his eyes again, and the way he looked at you made your breath catch.

“But you kept staying,” He said, voice raw. “After class. You kept looking at me like that.”

“I didn’t mean to.” You said breathlessly.

“I know.” He murmured. “That’s what made it worse.”

His fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt at your waist, not going further, just touching the skin there, warm and unhurried.

“You should go.” He said, but there was no weight behind the words. “Before I really lose my sense.”

You didn’t move.

He leaned in again, his lips brushing lightly over yours once more. Slower. Like a question.

And again, you didn’t pull away.

If anything, you leaned in closer.

Your breath hitched as his mouth returned to yours, this time with less hesitation. The kiss deepened, turning heavier, more urgent. His hand at your waist completely slipped beneath your shirt, fingers grazing the bare skin of your lower back.

His mouth moved to your jaw, then your neck, slow and deliberate, like he needed to commit every inch of you to memory. His breath was warm against your skin. Your fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt, holding on. He shifted beneath you, sliding his hands under your thighs to adjust your position, pulling you closer until your body fit perfectly against his. You gasped into his mouth, heat rushing through you at the way he pressed into you. Your hips moved without thinking, and his grip tightened at your waist, guiding your body over his with slow, deliberate pressure.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” He breathed against your neck, kissing along your skin like he couldn’t stop himself now. “How many times I’ve imagined having you like this.”

Your hands were in his hair now, tugging gently, and he made a sound low in his throat, a mixture of frustration and desire. His mouth returned to yours, messier this time, his tongue sliding against yours with a hunger that made your whole body burn. You shifted your weight in his lap, your thighs tightening around his hips, pressing more firmly against him. The reaction was immediate: His breath caught and he let out a beautiful moan. You felt it, the way he wanted you, through the fabric separating your bodies.

He stood suddenly, gripping you tightly, carrying you with him as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Your back hit the the desk, his body pressed fully to yours, and he kissed you again, deeper still. His hands slid along your thighs, your hips, your waist, grounding you to him like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go.

“You’re dangerous.” He muttered against your lips, breathless. “You sit in my class innocently like you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words were lost in a sharp gasp when his hands slid beneath your shirt again, this time with more purpose. His palms were warm against your skin as he pushed the fabric up, exposing your stomach, your ribs. His eyes flicked down, then back up to your face, asking silently.

You nodded.

That was all it took.

He peeled your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside with one fluid motion. His hands returned to your body, slower now, fingertips mapping the shape of you. You watched his face change, a mix of awe and disbelief, as if he had been holding something back for too long and now it was finally real.

He kissed your collarbone, your shoulder, the hollow beneath your throat, like each place was something sacred. And then he pulled you up slightly, wrapping an arm around your waist to lift you further onto the desk.

Your skirt was bunched high now, the fabric gathered at your waist, forgotten. Your legs were wrapped around his hips, keeping him against you. You could feel the restraint in his movements, the careful tension in his body, as if he was holding back everything he wanted to do. It felt like he was afraid that if he gave in completely, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

You pulled back just slightly, your forehead resting against his. “Don’t hold back.” You whispered.

His breath caught. He opened his eyes and looked at you. “I don’t want to cross a line you’ll regret,” He said, voice low and rough.

You shook your head, thumb brushing across his cheek. “You won’t. Please…I want this.”

Something in him shifted then.

His mouth was on yours before you could speak again. The kiss was rougher than before, less careful, and it knocked something loose inside you. He found the clasp of your bra without fumbling, unhooked it with ease, and pushed the fabric aside so his hands could finally cover your bare chest. A low groan rumbled from his throat as he touched you, his head tipping forward to press heated kisses along the curve of your neck.

You let your head fall back, giving him access. You feel his lips trail lower, his breath hot against your skin, and your fingers tangle in his hair without thinking.

He took a nipple into his mouth, slow and deliberate, and the sensation pulled a sharp gasp from you. You arched into him, but his hands held your hips firmly against the desk. He sucked gently, then bit, then eased the sting with his tongue. You could already feel yourself getting wet. Fast.

“Sir—” You whispered, almost a warning.

“Sieun.” He murmured, mouth still on your skin. “Call me Sieun.”

One of his hands slid slowly between your thighs and his fingers brushed over your underwear. He paused when he felt how soaked you were.

“Is this all for me?” He asked, voice edged with disbelief.

Your breath catches. He presses his fingers against you, rubbing through the fabric—just enough to make you ache.

He slid your underwear aside and slowly sank a finger into you. You gasped in surprise, grabbing at his shoulders for balance. He added a second finger without warning, and his pace quickened, steady and controlled. Sieun watched your face the entire time, as if memorizing your expression. His fingers curled perfectly, working you open with a steady rhythm that made your legs tremble. You clung to him, your nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as the pressure built quickly in your stomach.

His forehead dropped to your shoulder as he worked you open, his gaze hungry and focused. Moans kept tumbling from your mouth, uncontrolled and breathless. The sound of your wetness filled the space between you, obscene and unmistakable, only driving him further. His fingers curled again, hitting just the right spot, and your whole body tensed in response. He murmured something low against your skin, voice rough, but you could barely make out the words through the haze building in your mind.

Suddenly, his fingers were gone, and you looked down to see the Professor— Sieun kneeling between your legs.

Your breath caught. “What are you—”

But he was already pushing your skirt higher, keeping it on, but sliding your underwear down your thighs with slow, deliberate movements. You instinctively tried to close your legs, overwhelmed and unsure, but his hands were firm as he guided them apart again.

“Keep them open.” He said, his voice low, eyes darker than you’d ever seen them.

Then he leaned in, his breath hot against your inner thigh, making your skin prickle. His lips brushed your skin lightly at first, almost teasing, and the anticipation made your stomach tighten. You gripped the edge of the desk, heart racing, every nerve on edge as his mouth inched closer to your heat. When his tongue finally touched you, slow and unhurried, a sharp gasp escaped your lips and your hips twitched. He moved with purpose, tasting you like he had all the time in the world, and all you could do was hold on as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through you. He groans at your taste, his grip tightening on your thighs.

Then he found your clit and sucked, gently at first, then with more pressure, until your legs began to shake.

“Sieun—”

The sound of his name on your lips only pushed him further. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, holding you firmly in place as he kept going, messy and hungry, no longer trying to hold anything back.

You writhed under his mouth, barely able to catch your breath. He slid a finger inside you again, then a second, curling them just right as your body arched off the desk. His mouth sealed around your clit and sucked firmly, before his tongue began to flick in a tight, focused rhythm that unraveled you fast. You were soaked, the buildup from earlier making every touch sharper, every sensation more intense.

You whimpered, clenching around him, your body already climbing. His mouth didn’t stop for even a second, and neither did his fingers. He knew exactly what he was doing, pressing into that perfect spot again and again while his tongue moved faster, his lips teasing your clit.

“Let go for me.” He murmured, breath hot against you. “Come on, sweetheart. I want to feel it.”

Your back arched, your mouth opened in a soundless cry, and the orgasm tore through you so intensely that your vision went white. You pulsed around his fingers, legs trembling, body shaking under the force of release.

But he didn’t stop right away. He kept licking gently, drawing out every last wave until you were squirming, too sensitive to handle any more. When he finally pulled back, he stood slowly, his mouth slick and his eyes dark with something between pride and possession.

You were still catching your breath when he leaned in again and pressed a kiss just beneath your jaw.

“You look ruined already,” He murmured, lips brushing your cheek. “I haven’t even taken you yet.”

You were too dazed to answer, but the way you looked up at him said enough. Your eyes were half-lidded, your body still trembling, your mouth parted in quiet need.

He straightened, his gaze locked on yours, and unbuckled his belt with slow, deliberate movements. The soft clink of metal made your breath catch again. He watched you as he unzipped his slacks, his movements steady. You watched his hand as he stroked himself, and your breath caught at the sight. He was thick, hard, flushed red at the tip. He let out a soft groan, just once, when his fingers slid over the sensitive head.

He leaned over you again, one hand braced against the desk near your head, the other guiding himself between your legs. He ran the head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing, coating himself with your wetness.

“You’re ready.” He said more to himself than you. “So fucking ready.”

You nodded, lips barely able to form the words. “Please…Sieun.”

He groaned in responses. His hand settled at your waist, steady and warm, and slowly, with careful control, he began to press into you.

Your breath caught in your throat, and his did too. It came sharp and sudden, as if the feeling of being inside you stole the air from his lungs.

You felt him everywhere.

He stretched you inch by inch, filling you completely. The pressure was intense, your body adjusting around him, the sensation overwhelming and intimate in a way nothing else had ever been. He paused once he was fully inside, his forehead dropping briefly to yours as though to steady himself, and in that moment, all you could hear was the sound of your breaths mingling in the quiet room.

You clung to him, your legs wrapping around his waist, helpless to do anything but take him, feel him, need him.

“Good girl.” He groaned. “Take it.”

He began to thrust, each motion deliberate and controlled, though filled with a growing desperation. The desk shifted faintly beneath you, the wood creaking with every movement. You leaned back slightly for balance as you moved with him. Your hips tilted in response to his rhythm, chasing the friction and the closeness.

His hands moved across your back, your waist, your thighs, as if he needed to memorize every part of you through touch alone.

Your mouth was parted, your eyes unfocused. Thought slipped away, replaced by the building pressure inside you, the warmth spreading through your body, and the steady weight of him driving into you over and over.

And all the while, he kept looking at you. His eyes never left your face, even when he thrust deeper and your head tilted back with a soft gasp. He leaned in, his mouth trailing along the line of your throat, breathing you in like he needed the scent of your skin to stay focused.

You could hear how wet you were, how every movement between you echoed through the room. The sounds filled the space around you, but neither of you cared. If anything, it spurred him on. His thrusts grew harder and more urgent.

You couldn’t stop saying his name.

And every time you did, he moved a little rougher. Each thrust sent shockwaves through your body, the pressure inside you building with brutal intensity. He was breathing hard now, just above your ear. You felt it in the way he held you, in the way his hips drove forward desperately. He was chasing the edge but refusing to let himself fall over it just yet.

“You feel that?” He gritted out, his voice almost ragged. “You’re pulling me in… God, sweetheart…”

You moaned, your nails digging into his back. The angle of his thrusts, the way he ground into you just right at the end of each one—it was overwhelming, almost too much to take.

“You want to cum again?” He breathed, lips brushing against your throat. “ You want to fall apart on my cock?”

“Yes, Sir—Sieun–please—”

That was all it took.

He shifted his angle and drove deeper, hitting that soft spot inside you with precision. The pleasure surged through you like a shockwave, and your second orgasm crashed over you before you could brace for it. It tore the breath from your lungs and sent your body arching off the desk. Your thighs trembled violently, your hands grasping at anything within reach—his arms, his shirt, the edge of the desk.

You clamped down around him, tight and pulsing, your entire body drawn taut as the wave dragged you under. The sound you made was raw, broken, too close to a sob, and you barely registered the choked groan he let out in response.

But he didn’t stop.

He didn’t even slow down.

“Sieun—” You gasped, your legs trembling beneath the relentless rhythm. “Wait—”

“No.” He said, voice low and firm, rough with the strain of holding himself back. “You can take it.”

Your body was still fluttering around him, overstimulated and aching, and the sounds falling from your lips came without thought—moans, whimpers, his name. He kept moving inside you with deep, deliberate thrusts, each one dragging along hypersensitive nerves that lit up all over again.

He was still hard, still buried to the hilt inside you, nowhere near finished. You felt every inch of him, every slow drag, every deep press, every grinding thrust that left your nerves raw and trembling. The friction was unbearable. The stretch was relentless. The slick heat between your bodies had become a soaked, sticky mess of need.

Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision. Not from pain, but from how overwhelming it all felt. How full you were. How completely he consumed you. Your fingers clutched at his back, desperate for something to hold onto, and your lips parted on a shaky breath as another moan escaped you. You weren’t sure if you were crying from the intensity or from how deeply you felt for him. Maybe both.

“You’re already a wreck, sweetheart,” He murmured, voice laced with dark amusement. “And I’m not even done with you.”

He thrust into you again, slow and deep, hitting that raw, aching spot that made your whole body jolt. You whimpered, instinctively flinching at the intensity. Then he pulled out, dragging himself from your still-clenching heat with agonizing slowness.

For a fleeting second, your body sagged, thinking it might finally be over.

But then he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear, and said, “Turn around.”

Your breath hitched sharply. “Sir—” You whimpered, voice trembling with a mix of shock, anticipation, and something dangerously close to surrender.

“Now, sweetheart.”

Your legs nearly gave out as you pushed yourself upright, the aftershocks of your last release still pulsing through you. But his hands were there, firm and unshakable, guiding you with care and purpose. You turned slowly, your palms flattening against the cool surface of the desk, the chill of the wood making you shiver as your bare nipple met it.

Then his hand found the small of your back, pressing down gently but firmly until your spine curved and your hips tilted back, presenting yourself to him without resistance. The position left you vulnerable, open, and completely at his mercy.

Your skirt was still bunched around your hips, half in the way, and he tugged it higher with one hand until the fabric pooled around your waist again.

A heartbeat later, he slid back inside you—slow, deep, and relentless. The new angle made everything sharper. He filled you so completely that your breath caught, and your knees trembled beneath the weight of it. Each thrust hit deeper, grazing places that sent sparks up your spine, and you had to grip the desk harder just to stay grounded.

You cried out, your forehead hitting the desk with a dull thud. Every thrust landed with a deep, rhythmic smack of skin against skin, sharper and heavier than the last. His grip on your hips held you in place, strong and unrelenting, each movement jolting you forward slightly, only for him to drag you right back into him. The slick, obscene sounds filled the room, mixing with the rough edge of his breathing and the soft, broken moans spilling from your lips.

“You’re close again?” He asked, his voice rough and thick with need as he leaned over you. “Fuck. You’re completely soaked.” He muttered, his voice breaking slightly as his hips snapped forward. “Dripping down your thighs for me.”

A choked moan slipped from your lips. Every filthy word Sieun whispered pushed you further into the haze of need. His voice was low and rough with restraint, each syllable curling hot against your skin. You felt stretched, claimed, and ruined in the most intoxicating way.

“Say it,” He growled, his hand curling tighter around your waist. “Say who’s making you feel like this.”

“You, Sieun” You gasped, your voice cracking as you lost your grip on the words. “Only you.”

His rhythm turned punishing, thrusts bruising, pushing you straight into another orgasm. It happened too quickly for you to understand. It crashed through you hard—sudden, consuming—and your body clenched around him with a wet rush that you both felts. Your breath came out in a broken cry as your hips jerked, chasing the feeling even as it becomes too much. Another rush of heat and release flood through you, wet and sharp, your whole body pulsing with it.

“Sweetheart,” He murmured breath catching. “You’re soaking me…” His hips still just long enough for him to realize what had happened. Then a groan slipped from his throat, deep and guttural.

“You fucking squirted…” There’s awe in his voice. Wonder. A little disbelief.

Your body clenched around him so tightly that he cursed through gritted teeth, his control slipping for a moment. But he didn’t give in. Not yet.

You were still pulsing around him, dazed and shaking, when his hands returned to your hips. He was gentler now, steadying you as he guided your next move.

“Up.” He said, voice rough and frayed at the edges. “Come sit on me, sweetheart.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. You blinked through the haze, legs trembling, the aftermath of release still making your body thrum. There was something in his tone, firm and coaxing, that left no space for doubt.

He stepped back from the desk, his slacks hanging low on his hips, and lowered himself into the chair behind him. His legs spread wide, his cock still hard and glistening with both of you, flushed red under the dim light of the room. His eyes never left yours as he held out a hand, waiting for you.

“Come take what you need,” he said. “Ride me.”

Your breath caught in your throat. There was something in the way he said it, gentle in tone, but laced with quiet authority. It didn’t feel like a suggestion. It felt like he already knew you would.

You climbed into his lap, knees bracing on either side of his hips. The skin beneath your thighs tingled with residual heat, every nerve alight. You were soaked, swollen, and aching, but the moment you lowered yourself onto him again, the stretch burned in a way that made your breath catch. It felt deeper, more consuming than before, like your body wasn’t sure it could take him all over again. But it did. Slowly, inch by inch, until he was fully inside you.

His head fell back against the chair with a low, guttural hiss, his jaw tight as he tried to hold still. One of his hands gripped your hip while the other held your skirt bunched around your waist, keeping it high so he could see everything. The sight of you, bare and slick as you sank onto him, had him unraveling before you even moved.

“Fucking hell,” He groaned. “Still so tight. Still twitching around me.”

You began to move, slowly at first, finding your rhythm with shaky breaths and trembling thighs. Your palms pressed against his chest, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingers. His skin was hot, his muscles taut, and his eyes stayed locked on you, dark and heavy-lidded as if he couldn’t bear to look away.

You rocked your hips in uneven strokes, lifting and sinking down onto him, the stretch still intense, the pleasure sharp and raw. Each movement drew a slick, obscene sound from between your bodies, the wet friction unmistakable in the quiet room. You were still sensitive, still pulsing with aftershocks, your folds slick and swollen from the climax that had wrecked you moments before.

“That’s it,” He growled. One of his hand slid up your side, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts, watching every reaction you gave him like it was something sacred. “Look at you claiming this cock.”

You moaned softly, overwhelmed by the angle, the friction, his words… Every grind of your hips brought his cock right against that sweet, tender spot inside you. It’s was too much. You were still too tender, your body already raw from everything he had wrung from you.

But he felts so good…hot, thick, familiar. Soon you found a rhythm, steadier, deeper. The burn made your thighs tremble, but still, you moved—desperate to keep going, to take more, even as the sharp edge of pleasure blurred into something close to pain.

“I don’t think I can,” You whimpered, head thrown back as your hips faltered against his for a moment. Your voice trembled with the confession, laced with need and exhaustion. Tears streamed down your face.

Sieun’s hands slid up your sides, firm and steady. “Yes, you can,” He murmured, his voice thick with lust and something darker—possessive. His thumbs brushed just beneath your ribs, grounding you. “You’re doing so well. Just a little more.”

“I want to,” You gasped, barely able to form the words. “I want to keep going. Just—God—it’s so much.”

“I know,” He said, mouth brushing against your throat as he pulled you close. “I know, sweetheart. But you can take it. You’re mine now, remember?”

That word lit something inside you.

Mine

You rode him faster, each motion growing more frantic, messier—his cock slipping deeper, pressing harder. Your walls clamped down around him again, overstimulated and clenching. You couldn’t even keep eye contact anymore. Your head dropped to his shoulder as you moved against him, your breath coming in broken gasp and moans.

“Just like that.” He growled against your neck, his hands guiding you faster, rougher, deeper. “Messy. I want it messy.”

You whimpered something incoherent in return. Your thighs were trembling with each bounce, your body flushed and boneless, and you could feel both of you slipping in and out of control. His jaw is tightened, his fingers bruised into your skin as he hold you down harder, making sure you toke every inch.

“Let me see you fall,” He murmurs. “One last time, sweetheart. Come on. Show me.”

And then it happend.

Your release crashed over you like wave. It stole the air from your lungs and blurred the edges of your vision. You cried out, the sound raw and broken, as your hips jerked against his, stuttering with the force of it. You clenched around him, so tight it pulled another groan from his throat, every muscle trembling as the orgasm tore through you. A rush of wetness suddenly dripped down your thighs again as Sieun kept on slamming his hips upwards, not letting you escape. You cried as the heat of it spread through your core, overwhelming and consuming, leaving you breathless and shaking in his arms.

Sieun didn’t stop. He couldn’t. His grip only tightened, and his hips drove up into you with a frantic, uneven rhythm.

“God,” He choked out, his voice rough and nearly unrecognizable. “You feel… fuck… so good like this. Falling apart for me.”

You tried to speak, but all that came out was a strangled gasp. Your hands clawed at his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto. You were too sensitive, your body already spent. Everything was too much. You were crying freely now, sobs tearing from your body. But he was far past the point of holding back. He was chasing it now, the last edge of control slipping through his fingers, and there was nothing calm about it.

“I can’t.” He panted, voice hoarse. “I can’t hold back anymore.”

You tilted your head, breath hitching, still overwhelmed but needing him to finish—Needed him to let go. To stop holding himself back like he was afraid of what might happen if he truly gave in.

“Please, cum in me.” You cried desperately, eyes fluttering shut. “Please fill me up, Sieun.”

You felt it—his entire body locking beneath you, muscles coiled tight like a drawn bow. And then he snapped.

His breath hitched into a low, guttural sound as his release tore through him. His hands clutched at your hips as his body trembled, overwhelmed by the force of it, the sound of his ragged groan filling the air around you.

He thrust up into you again and again, each movement raw, erratic, and desperate. He held you flush against him, buried deep, and kept coming, as if everything he had kept locked inside was pouring out all at once. He didn’t stop moving, his breath ragged against your throat, chasing every last pulse of his release while your overstimulated body flinched beneath each motion. You whimpered, your fingers digging into his shoulders, helpless under the onslaught—but you didn’t ask him to stop.

His breathing stuttered, uneven and shallow, before his forehead dropped to your shoulder. His entire frame trembled, muscles twitching with the aftershocks of release. You felt the heat of his breath against your skin, warm and humid, mingling with the faint sweat that clung to both of you. For a long, suspended moment, he just held you there, chest heaving, as if your body was the only thing keeping him grounded while the last of it pulsed through him and slowly faded.

He lifted his head slowly, his eyes finding yours with a heaviness that stole your breath. They were darker than before—softer, yes, but still burning with something fierce and possessive beneath the tenderness. His hand moved gently, tracing the curve of your waist, fingertips brushing over the trembling muscles of your side before gliding up to cradle your cheek.

“Sweetheart,” He whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “You’re mine now.”

You nodded, too drained to speak, your body still trembling. But your heart swelled with something warm and full, something that settled deep inside you.

You were his.

And he was yours.

And that was all you needed.

[1999hiru]

okay but what about a sorta opposite from your mean!reader nerdy!abby. reader is a total book worm but when it comes to anything outside of a textbook she’s a bimbo. while abby’s set on getting her doctorate and doesn’t have time for anyone but reader wriggles her way dumbly into abby’s heart

- 💐

WAAAA I LOVE THIS ONE OMG … so cute i luv this so bad thank you flower anon !!!!!! i’m kinda obsessed with dumb reader and nerdy abby … but maybe i’m projecting because i’m also quite dumb </3

i made reader more bimbo-y (that is not a word forgive me) and focused on the fact that she’s more interested in books than studies , i hope that’s okay !!!!! <3333

i hope you enjoy !!!!!!!! ^_^ ♡ ♡ ♡

cw. slightly mean abby, fingering

⋆˙⟡ nerdy! abby and bimbo! reader, a match made in heaven.

─────────────────────────

♡ . — ꒰ 1 ꒱

୨୧ you’re obsessed with reading. your shelves are filled with a wide range of genres, from the most intricate fantasy stories to thriller and horror, and even to the most insane smut you’ve ever come across. when you’re not busy shopping or doing your makeup to take selfies, your head is buried in one of your many books for hours. unfortunately, your passion for reading hasn’t transferred to your academics…

୨୧ exam season is coming up, and you haven’t been studying at all! but one quick glance at abby anderson, the well-known top student of your classes, and you decide you need her help. you haven’t spoken to her at all, never in the two years you’ve been attending college, but after your lecture had ended, you confidently approach her wearing your favorite mini-skirt. you have a big smile on your face when you get to her, a little too big, but this was important. first impressions mattered. but abby simply looked at you from head to toe, packing away her textbooks and making her way out of the room without saying a single word.

୨୧ no biggie… maybe she’s just busy, she probably had a lot of things to do considering she had to keep her place as number one. so the next week you see her, you end up following her out of the lecture hall like a lost puppy — she doesn’t respond back to you, even after you offer to buy her a sweet treat from the campus’ cafe, or when you asked if she wanted a study partner. she kept walking to wherever she needed to go. you ended up following, of course. abby wasn’t pleased at all. you could tell from her face, but that didn’t deter you!

୨୧ abby didn’t budge for a while. she told you off one time, something along the lines of “i don’t need an idiot distracting me,” which you took with a grain of salt. maybe all those calculations and body anatomy memorization made her moody. she was always in the library studying, laptop open with lecture slides, her notebook full of notes that you couldn’t even begin to comprehend, even five different pens for differing information. you were lucky enough that she didn’t say anything when you followed her to the library, but it was like you weren’t even there at all.

୨୧ you’re sitting across from her, a book in hand as always, you’re almost halfway done in the time that abby had been studying. you wonder how she can focus for so long without wanting to do something else. but abby thinks the same about you, taking small curious peeks when you were distracted. she wonders how you’re so goddamn annoying about your college work but can read a bunch of big words for hours. beats her, not her problem.

୨୧ abby had enough one day. she invites you over to her dorm room for a “study date” just to shut you up, and almost immediately tells you to sit down when you prance around, touching almost every medal and trophy she has on display. you sit on her bed, a sheepish smile on your face. now that you’re here with her — alone, it makes you a little nervous. you’ve been begging for this, and yet, it makes you blush a little when abby sits right next to you. your arms are brushing against each other, and she’s flipping through her notes while she explains them to you. you weren’t really listening.

୨୧ for the first time, you’ve gotten the chance to get to know abby. her cologne is strong, but not overpowering, it’s just enough to keep you wanting more. she smells good. her hair is always neatly braided. her notes are also freakishly organized, perfect handwriting with different brightly colored titles for every single chapter. you laugh a little, and it confuses abby. she lets out a “what?” with a glare, and you wrap your arms around her bicep, “nothing, just kinda funny that all your notes are so cute when your personality is the complete opposite!”

♡ . — ꒰ 2 ꒱

୨୧ abby who flushes at your comment — cute? no one had ever called her notes “cute,” that was ridiculous. she didn’t have time for your teasing when you were so adamant about your grades being in jeopardy. you chased her around campus, interrupted her cherished library time by poking around, doing absolutely nothing but cross off another useless book from your list. but for some reason your grasp around her, warm and welcoming, made her feel a little weird. she didn’t like that at all. she had no time to babysit some dumb girl that couldn’t even be bothered to pay attention to her! she was using her precious study time to help you, and you were teasing her. nonetheless your jab at her personality. she knew she was cold, distant even. but she needed to be completely focused if she wanted to get her doctorate. she didn’t want to hear that from someone like you either.

୨୧ abby scoffs, pushing you away. she shuts her notebook and sets it to her side, getting up from her place next to you. she lets out a heavy breath before staring right at you. “look, seriously, i have better things to do. if you aren’t going to try then you need to get out.” you’re pouting almost immediately, your eyes finding hers too. glossy and big. abby’s almost exasperated — you’re a grown woman looking at her like that. but the more she stares at you like this, the more she starts feeling the horrible twist of guilt in her stomach. shit, she thinks. maybe i was a little too harsh.

୨୧ she doesn’t want you to know she feels bad, so after a while of your very unconvincing puppy eyes and finding her will power, she sits back down and opens up her notes again. a smile spreads across your face instantly, and abby does her best to ignore it. you’re a pretty girl, dumb and incredibly annoying yes, but so pretty. she would be an idiot if she said otherwise, but she continues on, grumbling a “pay attention this time, no more talking.” you nod eagerly. she can’t help but take a few glances at you when you’re reading over her notes for yourself.

୨୧ you and abby spent the rest of the afternoon going over concepts you struggled with, and abby hates to admit it, but you weren’t so bad. you were smarter than you acted. yeah, you struggled with the most basic topics, but you eventually got them after a while. (with a lot of re-explaining from abby, a heavy sigh from her when you couldn’t answer her questions) you were funny too, and even made her laugh occasionally, but abby always covered it up with a cough. you both had gone through everything you were struggling with, and abby found it… endearing? to see you try so hard. the way your tongue poked out when you were working through a problem, when you scribbled down little mental notes to keep track. she found herself staring at you a lot, embarrassingly enough, and abby tried to keep herself busy when she caught herself — picking up a random textbook from her pile and flipping through it.

୨୧ over the course of exam season, abby was spending a lot of time with you. it annoyed her still, that her carefully constructed routine was suddenly destroyed by some girl that put her energy into fictional literature rather than actual important reading, but she was getting used to it. she even started waiting for you to pack up your things when the lecture ended, slowly putting away her books and electronics just so you had enough time to walk up to her. abby always greeted you with a blank stare, an eye roll if you were lucky, but you’d never know she purposely slowed herself down for you. she didn’t know why either. it’s like her body did it on autopilot, and now her routine consisted of her studies and you. walking to the library together, her telling you to focus when you got sidetracked, plus the lengthy hours of studying in her dorm room. it was her new routine.

♡ . — ꒰ 3 ꒱

୨୧ when abby finally finishes all her exams, she takes a lot of time relaxing in her dorm. she continues reading up on chapters she wanted to smooth over when she hears a small knock at her door. of course, it’s you, and you let yourself in with your laptop held tightly to your chest. “abs, i think i’m gonna die. this last exam is gonna kill me.” abby groans at your dramatics, “do not call me abs,” but she pulls out her little table anyway and you both sit next to each other. you’re pulling up the exam practice questions like clockwork, and you run her through the ones you didn’t understand.

୨୧ you’re almost an hour into it, and abby can tell you aren’t focusing. you’re constantly spacing out, interrupting her to talk about a new book coming out, and you aren’t grasping anything at all. she made a little quiz just for you, and you hadn’t gotten anything right. abby runs a hand through her hair, breathing out a deep sigh. she closes your laptop and places the pen right back into your hand. you stare at her confused.

୨୧ “if you get a question right, i’ll give you something. how about that?” abby proposes, your eyes darting from her own to her lips. abby is a little taken aback, you’re bold, you make it so obvious. but she patiently waits for your answer anyway. “like what?” you reply quietly, and the air is suddenly thick with tension. it’s too quiet.

୨୧ “whatever you want.” abby was done with her own exams. she could afford to be reckless for a little. maybe she’d regret it in a few weeks, but with the way you’re staring at her, the way you’ve been staring at her, she knows exactly what you want. she couldn’t go back now. and abby couldn’t lie to herself either. she was getting distracted — thoughts about what your lips would feel like, what it’d be like if your bodies were so close that she started smelling like your perfume, the stolen glances when you both pretended to be working, she knew. and you knew it too.

୨୧ “then…” you answer, no elaboration, you’re shifting up to tug your shorts down. abby bites the inside of her cheek when she sees how perfectly your panties fit your ass, the material hugging it like it was made for you. she hasn’t taken her eyes off you the moment you moved, and she should be upset at the fact you just discarded your clothes on the floor, messily, but she didn’t care. her hand reached out to touch your hip before she could even realize, caressing you softly. you smile at her, that stupid smile abby insisted was so annoying, before you turn your attention to the makeshift quiz she made for you. abby shuffles closer to see you work, watching as your hand moves to answer.

୨୧ you think long and hard before answering, circling one of the multiple choice answers abby provided. it’s correct. abby doesn’t say it, but her hand moves to slip down the front of your panties. she leaves it there, a hitch in your breath when she’s just over where you needed her the most. the room feels so hot, abby thinks. was it always this hot? you continue on to the second question, your brain working overtime to focus on the right choice — it’s hard when abby’s warm hand is over your cunt, the fact that you’re almost indecent while abby is fully clothed. you throb at the thought.

୨୧ you shakily circle another answer, an approving hum from abby. she shoves her hand in deeper, now moving her fingers up and down your folds. you’re already so wet, and you just barely started. you can feel her watching your every move, peering from right above your shoulder. you go to the third question, one you thought you knew, circling confidently. abby continues her slow pace across your aching pussy, “no, not that one.” you groan, frustrated, she’s going too slow and it’s making you crave for more. your brain is starting to feel fuzzy.

୨୧ you get to question five, and abby had started to move faster, her fingers circling your clit and rubbing at your entrance, teasing, you moan when she rubs over your clit again — “focus,” she mumbles in your ear, continuing her pace. you do your best to. you glance over the answers for the question and circle, abby rubbing at you even quicker. a strangled “abby!” is pulled from your throat, feeling her lips at your neck. “c’mon, next one. you don’t wanna fail, do you?” you shake your head, and with a tighter grip on her pen, you move down to the next one. you’re so wet, and you can hear yourself if you listen close enough.

୨୧ you miraculously answer the next three questions correctly, and when you circle your next answer, it’s like abby was waiting — she pushes a thick finger inside of your waiting cunt immediately, a loud squelch at the contact. you’re gasping, abby pulling you onto her lap so smoothly you don’t even realize, and she’s spreading your legs with ease. she’s thrusting it in deep, slowly, so slowly that you’re squirming at every push. it’s not fast enough, and you know if you don’t get this next one right, she’s going to keep it this way. your head is buzzing, and it takes you four attempts to read question nine properly. you’re circling your best guess, and fuck. abby bites hard into the side of your neck, your hips bucking at the pain. “we went over that, stupid girl..” her mean words should bother you, but you feel yourself clench at the name. stupid, stupid, stupid. maybe you were, but that didn’t matter right now. your neck was stinging with pain and it was making you drip.

୨୧ “guess you don’t wanna come if you’re not taking this seriously?” abby laughs condescendingly, her voice right against your ear. you moan at her tone, and it’s not long before you’re trying to push down on her fingers, wanting to fuck yourself till’ you finish. but abby’s not that nice, never had been, and she completely pulls her fingers out of you. you’re empty suddenly, feeling a glob of slick pour out of your cunt. you’re whimpering, noisy and pathetic. “please, abs i can’t—“

୨୧ abby takes her free hand and grips your chin tightly, turning your focus back to the paper in front of you. it’s blurry, and your grasp on the pen seems to be getting looser. “you have one more, you wanted me to teach you right? so do it. don’t waste my time.” abby lets go of you, shoving two fingers inside of you without warning. it feels like you were shocked, shivers running down your spine. the stretch is painful, so sudden, but you’re clenching so tightly around her that abby can’t help but laugh at you. “it’s just one question, you shouldn’t have been so desperate if you can’t even do this.”

୨୧ tears are pooling in your eyes, your cheeks red from the humiliation. you’re reading over the last question as best as you can, your entire body shaking from the pressure inside of you. abby mutters something along the lines of, “following me around like a dumb puppy, you’re embarrassing” and it makes you wetter. you can’t think straight. you find two words that you recognize and circle the answer you think is right — you can feel abby press a kiss into your hair, “who would’ve thought? maybe you aren’t so fuckin’ dumb after all.”

୨୧ a sigh of relief falls from your lips, feeling abby move inside of you. she’s thrusting into you as roughly as she can now, deep, calling you a stupid mutt in your ear, you’re gripping at her thighs when she continues fucking into your pussy like an animal, digging deep into that spot. you gasp when she brushes over it. “right here, huh? making you feel good here?” she’s curling her fingers up into you, practically bruising it with how hard she’s pressing against it. you choke out her name, moans and whimpers streaming from your lips before you come hard on her fingers. you’re twitching, clenching tightly around her digits, abby’s lips are on yours and she’s licking into your mouth. you can’t feel anything for a few seconds.

୨୧ abby gently fucks you through it, looking over your paper from where you both sat. she smiles down at you, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “not bad, i think you’ll pass.”

tag list ♡

@hyperbabes

[skibasyndrome]

"please, speak to me" for the prompt thingy?🫶

Tinaaaa!!! Thank you so much for sending me this prompt! I'm extremely sorry for taking forever to write this, but here it iiiis.

Because I simply couldn't leave them in their messy little fwb situation, this is a follow-up to this drabble here.

Hope you'll enjoy! 💜💜💜

For the first couple of days, Wille is so caught up in replaying his last night with Simon that he doesn’t fully notice to which extent he’s being avoided. When he does, the realization hits him square in the chest.

Wille doesn’t think that, during the admittedly relatively short time they’ve known each other, he’s ever gone this long without speaking to Simon. They just clicked, right away, became friendly very quickly, became… more than friendly equally quickly. And up till now they’ve never gone this long without speaking, at least a little bit. Wille misses his friend’s presence next to him during the one lecture on postmodernism they normally attend together. And he misses the stupid jokes they tell each other in the cafeteria during lunch breaks. Wille texts Simon twice during the week following the incident. Both times, Simon answers quickly, but the conversations die down just as quickly. Wille knows he’s busy with exams, but this is different. Simon won’t admit that anything’s wrong, continues to throw Wille a quick smile every time they cross paths on campus. But before Wille has the chance to approach him, he’s gone again. It feels like something ended between them. And Wille doesn’t know what to do about it, let alone what to say. He can’t suggest they have sex again. Well. He would like to, but he won’t. Every time he thinks back to Simon storming off, he feels like an idiot. But any other suggestion feels almost more ridiculous. He can almost hear Simon scoff at him whenever he thinks of something new to say. They’ve never done anything else, they’ve been friendly at uni, then spent their time back in the dorms fucking. Anything beyond that feels like an imposition. In front of his mind’s eye, Simon is rolling his eyes and shaking his head at Wille’s suggestion for brunch on Sunday or a couple drinks Thursday night. And so he keeps them to himself, his silly suggestions. But by week two, Wille feels like he’s going to burst if he lets the scenario play out inside of his head another fucking time. He needs to figure this out, needs to fix whatever there is to fix. Right whatever wrong it was that Wille did. Even if this arrangement, whatever it was, is over for Simon, Wille wants them to part on good terms. And not have Simon think badly of him. He feels more than a little silly as he finds himself walking through the halls of the music lecture building. And even while he’s waiting outside of the room he knows Simon’s choir is practicing in, he almost gets up and leaves again two times. Scrolling on his phone is barely enough of a distraction. Especially when, from time to time, a few beautiful notes hit his ear, coming through the large door. This would be a lot easier if he didn’t immediately recognize the beautiful voice. or Or if he didn’t remember what other beautiful sounds that voice is capable of producing, under the right conditions. 

He clears his throat and rolls his neck, trying to banish those tempting images from his mind. He’s about to give up and leave again, go for a walk or go find something else to distract him from his own misery, when the door opens and a couple of students start streaming out. Wille immediately gets up from the random chair he’s found sitting in the hallway, straightens up, feeling weirdly caught and weirdly out of place. Before he can wonder if Simon will even notice him standing in the hallway like a lost little puppy, the door closes again. It leaves Wille standing face to face with the man he hasn’t gotten a proper look at in a very long two weeks. Wille raises his hand for an awkward wave and notices too late that he clearly must’ve interrupted a conversation between Simon and his choir teacher, who now looks between the two of them, visibly confused. Even she must notice that this amount of silence isn’t very normal. Giving Wille another once-over, she retrieves her key from where she was about to lock the door and hands it over to Simon. She tells him to leave it on her desk later before walking off. For a gratingly long moment it looks like Simon is about to run after her. When he turns back around to Wille he looks a little less panicked, albeit no less confused. His bag is casually slung over his shoulder, and something inside of Wille’s chest aches at the familiar picture. Instead of dwelling on it, though, he shakes his head slightly, takes a step towards Simon. “Hey,” he starts and tries to smile, but it must be coming off exactly as weird and forced as it feels, because Simon only nods at him. “Hey.” Simon’s own smile is late, seems a little out of place. Maybe there’s still time to run away. But when Simon opens his mouth to speak, a different sense of panic washes over Wille, so he simply has to blurt it out. “I wanted to see you.” The silence that follows Wille’s confession is clearly taunting him. Simon just looks at him with his brows furrowed. “And I wanted to talk to you,” Wille continues, and maybe it’s the way Simon’s gaze darts back and forth between Wille’s lips and his eyes that makes Wille go on.  “Because I missed you,” he says. And because he’s not made enough of a fool of himself.  “Miss you, I mean.” Simon only nods quickly and, for a second, Wille gets caught up in his eyes. It's been entirely too long since he’s gotten a proper look at them. If Wille didn’t know any better, the idea that he’s spent hours looking at them before would sound ridiculous.

Simon is the first to break contact. He clears his throat. “So…?” he starts, then trails off, lifting himself up and down on his tiptoes. “Can we talk?” Wille is practically pleading and, as if on cue, a student pushes his way past, apparently seeing no better path than going between him and Simon. “I mean, maybe…” Wille gestures towards the room and Simon catches his hint. He gives a curt nod, one that Wille can’t read. But he does turn around, and not to leave. He slips in through the door, Wille at his heels. And before Wille has any chance to take in the interior of the room, or think about what the fuck he’s supposed to do now, now that he’s gotten to this point, Simon is on him. Wille's back hits the door with a loud thud, his chest immediately colliding with Simon's. He lets out a strangles sound of surprise when he suddenly has an arm full of Simon. But even his moment of shock is cut short when Simon’s lips are on his. Finally again. Wille quickly melts into the touch, relishes in the way Simon licks into his mouth, almost like he's been plagued by the same desperate need that has rendered Wille sleepless for these past two weeks. Wille's arms close around Simon's middle, backpack and all, and Wille lets out a sigh of… something. Relief, probably, but also pleasure. This is what they're good at, this is a way in which they've always understood each other. This is what makes sense for them. So much sense that Simon has Wille heavily panting against his lips in no time, so much sense that Wille’s hands easily find their way into the back pockets of Simon’s jeans, like they’re two puzzle pieces. So much sense that it takes Wille a long time, many seconds, minutes maybe, to realize that this isn’t what he came for. Not really, not initially. He tries to pull back, not going far with the wood of the door right behind him. But Simon understands, moves back, then takes a big step away from Wille that causes Wille’s hands to slip out of his pockets. He weakly holds them at his side, suddenly feeling really awkward about just standing here. He clears his throat. “I…” It’s like Simon didn’t only take away his breath, but also his speech. Wille tears his eyes from Simon’s face, from the soft reddish hue on his cheeks, from his wet lips. “I wanted to talk about last time, what you said. I-” Simon interrupts him with a groan. “Can’t we just forget about this already?” He sounds frustrated, angry almost, but there’s a trace of desperation. Wille swallows hard, very unhelpfully notices Simon’s taste on his tongue. While every bone in Wille’s body is yearning to just get back to what they were doing, to get back to what’s always felt good, he knows he shouldn’t. Not like this. Not until he’s tried, not until-

Simon groans loudly again and moves towards the handle, trying to get past Wille. His rib cage contracts painfully at the sight, and his last resolve crumbles. “Wait, please, wait, Simon,” he tries, quietly, too quietly, but, fuck, how else is he supposed to say this. Without thinking about it, he goes in for Simon’s wrist, grabs it, squeezes once, then lets go again, suddenly terrified he’s making it worse. He back away from the door, stops blocking it. “I’m sorry, Simon, I don’t-” “Don’t say it,” Simon rushes out. As quickly as he reached for the door, he’s taking a few steps back again. Wille opens and closes his mouth again, entirely helpless. He’s not fucking following. He shakes his head, trying to make sense of it all. “But what you said then, and when you left-” “It doesn’t matter, okay?” Simon is pacing, and there’s too much distance between them for Wille’s liking, way too much. But he doesn’t want to reach out, doesn’t want to overstep, but, fuck he needs to fix this, he needs to understand, he needs Simon to tell him. He can’t keep wondering if maybe, just maybe…. When Simon stops pacing only to go for the door again, it bursts out of Wille. “Please, just speak to me!” He startles himself with his raised voice, and Simon stops dead in his tracks, head whipping around towards Wille. It’s Simon’s turn to gape at him, speechless.

He juts out his chin in defiance and crosses his arms. Wille’s heartbeat quickens when Simon turns towards him again. There’s a fire in his eyes that makes Wille feel like Simon is the one towering over him. For another few seconds, they just stare at each other, neither willing to be the first to break contact. It’s scary, tense, like any wrong move could shatter everything. Wille decides then and there that he’ll keep this up for hours if he has to, if it means that Simon isn’t going to run away again. But it seems like Simon has different plans. With a long, exasperated sigh, he turns away again. Wille watched his shoulders sag, watches him throw his head back in frustration. When he runs a hand up and through his curls, a silly part of Wille’s conscience wishes he could be the one doing that. “Look,” Simon starts, and Wille steels himself for whatever revelation might be coming his way. His eyes never leave Simon’s face, still. “I’m sorry, okay?” Wille feels his face fall. “I’m sorry that this isn’t what we wanted, I’m sorry that I said what I said, I just-” Simon tugs on his hair again and lets out a frustrated noise. “It’s okay,” he says, and suddenly all the fierceness drains out of his voice. When he twists his head to look back towards Wille, Wille’s pulse yet again picks up speed.

“It’s okay that you don’t want the same thing, it is!” Wille has trouble listening with his heartbeat hammering away at his temples. “We can keep doing this,” Simon gestures between the two of them ”I’ll be fine, I swear, can we just not talk about-” Suddenly, it clicks. Oh. “Stop,” Wille says, quietly, carefully, and it must be such a stark difference in tone that it’s unsettling. Simon immediately quiets down, enough for Wille to take a step towards him. To finally close the distance between them. Wille doesn’t think his pulse has ever been this quick without him nearing a panic attack. Once again, he swallows. “You’re saying that you… like me?” Simon presses his eyes shut, lets his head fall back in a movement of aggravation. “Wille…,” he groans, but there’s no edge to his voice, no hostility. He rolls his head back, looks pained, but he doesn’t withdraw, stays where he is. “Yes, I like you. That’s the whole point, that’s why-” Oh. Wille doesn’t waste another second, doesn’t give Simon any more time to misunderstand him. With a fervor that’s entirely new in its intensity, he rushes forward. One hand on Simon’s neck, the other reaching for Simon’s arm, linking their fingers together loosely, Wille kisses him. He kisses him and kisses him and lets out a pathetic little noise when Simon presses back after a moment, returns the kiss with equal force. Fuck. Wille can’t keep it in any longer. A wave of relief washes over him, strong, intense, warm, just like Simon. Wille giggles into their kiss, breaks away from Simon’s lips. When he does, he doesn’t pull away, rests his forehead against Simon’s. And he simply can’t hold back his stupid grin. “I like you too,” he says and fuck, that feels a lot like butterflies. “A lot.”

Send me one of these prompts for a short lil story 💜

[amymbona]

I love you so much. Seriously, you are so precious.

Can we address the fact that art can be so mean? Like, that sauna scene is so extra and wild. The meanest boy ever with literally no reason.  So I was thinking about a reader, being actually a good girl, kind and shy and nice and pretty and everybody just loves her and art is going bananas over it because he can't stand her, and he's so mean and manipulative and kinda crazy kinda want her to "show her true colors 'cause he's not buying the good girl act" kinda wants her to be his, but after he MAKES HER his. Molding that pretty thing to behave how he wants.  sorry if you can't match my freak it's fine it's cool I won't cry :( 

User I love you so so so much *kisses your forehead* 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 I'll definitely match your 𝔣𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔨. That's what I'm here for! Perhaps I could make this a little series. 🤭🤭

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Art is so crazy for you. He adores the thin ribbons at the end of the braids you usually wear, tied into two neat bows. He has the collection of your plaid miniskirts etched into his mind, knowing exactly what kind of low cut tops you combine with them. Sometimes, you're dressed in so little clothing - one of your short skirts and a stupidly thin blouse that shows more than it hided - that he questions whether you're still comfortable, and considers offering you a hoodie of his.

You're a kind soul too, not hesitating to lend people your pens if their runs out of ink and stops writing, generously offering whatever the person next to you might need. Somehow, you seem to carry whatever could be missing. You're so soft spoken, encouraging people and comforting them if their exam doesn't go well, always laying your palm on a person's shoulder to rub it and bring them a sense of comfort. And people adore you for that, their faces shine when they spot you in the corridor and you smile at them. You are the Stanford's sweetheart.

And sometimes, Art can't help himself but stare at you in the class, chewing onto the end of his pen, wondering whether that smile is permanently etched onto your face. Because even now, when you're simply sitting and listening to the lecture, there is such an aura of grace and easiness glowing around you, as if you were made to convince the whole class that they have nothing to worry about and everything is going to be okay. You're simply too soft for your age, in his eyes, too benign for the people you hang out with a too gracious in general. All, as if you were hoping to get something in return, even though you never ask for it.

Art is tempted to find a crack in your shell, to discover who you really are, because he's definitely not buying the good girl act. So he gets to work. Being Art Donaldson, he approaches the whole situation cautiously, surprising himself with his own patience. However, he's aware that if he really wants to get as close to you as possible, it's gonna take some time. Even despite your friendliness, you surely can't be naive enough to let him in with a simple smile.

He is a mastermind, of sorts, accidentally forgetting his pens or erasers and asking to borrow one from you. You respond with a usual smile and a soft "Of course," and let your fingers graze his palm when you hand him one. He's so tempted to keep it by the end of the lecture, as if to keep a part of you with himself. But he can't do that yet.

Slowly, Art figures out most of your schedule, showing up in the cafeteria or the campus' park where you might currently be. Some hi's and hello's are exchanged between the two of you, accompanied by a cute smile on your face. The more you smile at Art, actually, the more he is tempted to wipe that expression off of your face. He wants to see you cry, to see you scream and whine and beg and yell, to finally see the walls you've built up around yourself fall and uncover your true self.

Soon, without actually planning it, Art becomes obsessed with you. But not with the gentleness or your actions, nor the generosity of your innocent soul. Definitely not with your kind smile and big eyes. On the contrary, he wants to see them fill with tears, he wants them to be red and glossy while they look at him. He wants you to either encourage him to keep hurting you or beg him to stop, squirm and whine and protest, that you can't take all the pain he's about to give you. As long as you are below him, helpless and vulnerable, he will be content with his doings.

[junplusone]

seventeen as engineering majors

notes: hi i have nothing to say for myself except this is partially @imujings's fault and also my self indulgence so here we go (can you tell what my major is..... lol)

warnings: ehh swearing, i namedrop companies, eng jargon

-

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL - civil engineering

if you know, you know

is very proud of his program despite all the jokes (he shouldn't be) sorry im biased

"we're better than the meches"

never had to take dynamics in his LIFE omg

100% has a poster of the golden gate bridge on his wall and gets made fun of for it

is convinced one day when he's making bank and jeonghan is jobless he'll finally be vindicated

YOON JEONGHAN - mechanical engineering

did have to take dynamics & almost failed it

(he's smart, he was just too lazy to submit any of the homework that was also worth 60% of his grade)

gets salty at career fairs when most of the employers are construction companies

competing with the 24853874534 other meches for class sections

leaning into the "jack of all trades master of ????"

has a superiority complex over the aeros

HONG JOSHUA - computer engineering

should have just been a cs major tbh

compe is the bottom of the engineering food chain

but nobody has the heart to tell him that bc he's too kind

hangs out with the likes of yoon jeonghan but still never skips class

wants to create his own video game

probably got an internship at a fortune 100 company

has hella connections and WILL ask them to nepo you too bc he's that nice

WEN JUNHUI - aerospace engineering

has had enough of the lockheed martin jokes

does NOT !!! wanna work in defense he's a sustainable fuel guy

spacecraft development companies pleaseeee hire him

lets the meches have beef w him bc he dgaf what they think, but gets annoyed when they start competing w him for jobs

sidequest king (double minor in math & ecology AND he wants to try his hand at law school???? wtf)

locks in so freaking hard when he has to but is just silly otherwise - he's that student you never see studying but then they ace the exam

KWON SOONYOUNG - chemical engineering

is the one making lockheed martin jokes in front of junhui

but definitely picked cheme because someone told him he can make bombs

had to retake orgo twice but then passed inorganic chemistry with flying colors

academic wild card #1

always ends up with 8:30s bc he never wakes up on time for class registration

#1 merck worshipper pls hire him omg

LEE JIHOON - computer engineering

is at the bottom of the engineering food chain, but unlike joshua he knows & owns it

is a cs minor so it's slightly more excusable

probably has hella shit on github

definitely following more companies on linkedin than he has connections

double major in music production & plays clarinet in the pep band

you will never see him without his headphones on

JEON WONWOO - electrical engineering

actually very strongly dislikes that electrical & comp are grouped together as ece

likes the versatility of his major

probably never had a single morning class in his life

def came into college proficient in a bunch of programming languages

sits at the back of the lecture hall

never ever studies outside of his dorm bc he likes using his huge desk monitor

KIM MINGYU - biomedical engineering

so sick of every single person he meets assuming he's a premed student

has definitely accidentally broken flasks in his bio lab

was so elated when he found out orgo isn't a graduation requirement

always ALWAYS studies w a whiteboard

is one of the only guys in bme

you can always find him cooking up some food in the dorm's communal kitchen, he's always down for a conversation

LEE SEOKMIN - environmental engineering

minor in sustainability, he's an environmentally conscious sweetie pie!

the dream project groupmate

is one of like 15 people in his graduating class

wants to research water treatment technologies

"did you know using chatgpt is harmful to the environment?"

and he's right !!!!

took organic chemistry for fun and aced it even though mingyu warned him it would tank his gpa

XU MINGHAO - chemical engineering

really wants to work in the fragrance industry

always smells good, you'll never catch him lacking

another one of those people where you don't see them study ever but they still coast through classes

gets distracted when he's drawing out chemical compounds bc he tries too hard to get the lines perfect

and then starts sketching something else

second most nastiest side eye

BOO SEUNGKWAN - industrial & systems engineering

y'all know this man did not wanna do any work (jk i love my ise majors)

business admin double major & he's reaaaally good at it

everyone's jealous of the way he charms all the employers at the career fair how do u even do that like???

very intelligent but hated every calc class he had to take

always studies in the business building

nastiest side eye EVERRRRRR do not say anything stupid in front of him please he will vaporize you

CHWE HANSOL - materials science & engineering

walter white in the making

declared a chemistry minor and then never took the required classes

really enjoyed crystal chem

profs have a hard time grading his hw cause his handwriting lowkey looks like chicken scratches

the absolute chillest during finals week but nobody knows if it's because he studied way in advance or because he didn't study at all

academic wild card #2

such an 'it is what it is' guy tbh...

LEE CHAN - packaging engineering

ppl look confused when he tells them his major

is in it for the near 100% job placement

has a great time in all of his classes because they're so fun and the class size is like 8 kids

doesn't fully know what he wants to do later in life but he'll figure it out later

carpe diem kinda guy

wants to intern at a cosmetics company really really bad so he can take sample products home to his mom

let me know if u enjoyed this hehe :)

[etherealyoungk]

college boyfriend!chan

because i really wanted to write something with these pictures of chan <3

college bf!chan who had a crush on you ever since you joined, and it took him a whole year and a half before he gathered the courage to finally talk to you and (clumsily) ask you out. chan likes you so much and is always waiting for you by your locker or outside of your class so you both can go to lunch together. he's just so enamored by you really.

college bf!chan who would see your schedules for the new semester and see if you had any classes together. but you didn't since you both were doing different courses. you just happened to have one class a week together and he's just complaining about how he's supposed to spend the entire day without out?? that's a crime in his opinion. so the one class he's with you he's gonna flirt with you nonstop, sending you cute smiles and winks and air kisses because he didn't get a seat next to you and ended up sitting at the other end of the lecture hall. he'll def be the type to pass little love notes to you during class if he manages to sit next to you. and he's also gonna hold your hand underneath the table the one class you have together. he's just so enamored by you really.

college bf!chan who would always aks for a goodluck kiss before a test or exam because why not. "they really do help, last time you forgot to kiss me and my grade dropped", he says with the most serious face and how can you even say no to that cute face.

college bf!chan who loves having little library study dates with you and he brings all your favorite snacks. he'll say "okay let's study for 1 hour and then take a break", but he's getting distracted within the first 15 minutes and scooting his chair closer to yours as he leans his head against your shoulder. "one hour isn't over genius", you tell, knowing well what he's trying to do. "hm i think i need a recharge kiss", he says, lifting his head up as he looks at you. "please?", he adds, puckering his lips. you give him a knowing look but give him a peck anyways. he proceeds to feed you some chips and looks at what you're studying.

college bf!chan who convinced you to skip class to watch a movie and you couldn't even say no because he'd already booked the tickets. so that's how you were both in the theater watching a movie instead of being in class. but you didn't really care, seeing chan smiling and eagerly watching the movie he was so excited made your heart full. he'll spoil you with an added dinner date too, which ends up being mcdonalds but who are you to complain, these were the best kind of dates.

college bf!chan who would hate seeing you stressed out and anxious during exams season and complained about how exams are actually stupid and should be banned. he'll make sure you don't overwork yourself by staying up late, pulling all-nighters - because he knows you've done it before and hates seeing you breakdown later.

college bf!chan who attended a class for you when you were down with a nasty cold and took the time to make notes for you so you wouldn't miss out and have to stress out over catching up. the notes he took were cutely messy and scattered but he did mange to get down the important information. he'll even be ready to do the assignment for you, but you tell him it's okay, feeling bad. he cups his cheeks in his hands as he tells you he'd do anything for you and this is the least he can do before he's giving you a warm hug. you did end up getting a decent grade for the assignment because of chan.

college bf!chan who will spoil you after your exam, treating you to a cute lunch and buying you your favortie cake as a little celebration for getting through exam season. expect lots of handholding as you both walk hand in hand.

college bf!chan who would smile and be your biggest hypeman when you're presenting your presentation to the whole class. he'll also be a little goofy, shooting you smiles and winks and you're trying not to smile too hard and laugh at his antics. he'll even write a" y/n is the best" with a little heart on a small piece of paper and hold it up, shooting you a silly smile as you see what he's done and bite your lip, trying not to grin. the moment your presentation is over, you're gathering your stuff back and going back to your seat, whisper yelling at chan. "what were you doing!", you say as you put your stuff on the table and sit down. luckily you both were in the back so no one could hear or pay much attention to you both. "i was supporting my lovely partner who worked so hard on their presentation" "by trying to make me laugh?", you say deadpan. "what no i was being supportive...baby cmon. fine next time i won't be supportive i guess", he says, frowning as he crosses his arms. "you're such an idiot, my idiot", you say, smiling, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "thank you", you add and he finally cracks into a smile and he intertwines his hand in yours.

college bf!chan who's always supportive of whatever you decide to do. he's your little pillar of support and you're so grateful to him for being with you.

taglist: @daisycheols @ylliris-hanniehae @naaaaafla @slytherinshua @joshuaahong @fairyhaos @rubywonu @gam3bo1z @cutiepatutie13 @ibsysbsfunsbs @rksbae @kyeomyun @icyminghao

[madamspellmans-met-tet]

Watching the fireworks and all I can think about is:

“But upon an unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky” — LDR, Ride Monologue

A year ago, I was still in medschool. Already ill, but still studying 12 hours a day for my board exam while I was at my fiancée’s. It was the first NYE in years that I didn’t feel alone. I was with the woman I loved and her beautiful children and lovely family. It was the happiest winter I’ve had in a long, long time, despite all that was going on.

I wanted to be a doctor. A better one than those that had taken a year to diagnose what I already knew I had only to then tell me “there’s nothing more we can do for you.”

Now I stand before the debris of everything that I was. I barely recognise myself. I barely believe that I still exist.

A couple of years ago, I had started medschool, and I was doing well there, I was passionate and it was where I belonged. Spent days in the biochem lab or the dissecting hall and came home late to write my silly fanfiction. I’d even sometimes write them at medschool between lectures or on the train. I did my art, played instruments, sang, edited, filmed silly thirst traps and so on. Then I met my girlfriend and I was happy. It was the peak of my life, I’d thought.

And then, thanks to the negligence of my former doctor and genetics, the illnesses that I’d unknowingly had all my life, got so much worse and ultimately left me bedridden and with barely any quality of life. I had to quit medschool/request a break due to illness, which was approved.

I can’t stand for more than 5 minutes without threatening to pass out. Can’t sit for more than an hour and stay focused, lose my train of thought when I stand up. Need an hour in the morning before I can halfway safely get up, three before I can function. I need help washing my hair, doing chores and cooking and can’t really leave my house. My joints subluxate multiple times a day and I get awful nerve pain when in a flare. I can’t take a bath or shower without ending up on the floor as soon as I get out with a pulse of 150 bpm. It all makes me feel incredibly unattractive. I’m pale, my skin is dry and flaky, my eyes have dark circles, my lips are chapped, and I’m using a cane.

I feel ugly.

My writing has slowed down dramatically but it’s the only thing I can still do somewhat decently and I’m being evaluated for disability. My brain, that has been the only thing I could rely on all my life, is forsaking me. It’s demanding to be fed like it used to when it was still a sponge, but when I feed it, it gets too much. And so I’m perpetually bored and overwhelmed at the same time.

I wanted to be a doctor and a writer.

And even though I’m still aiming to try publishing, I’m not sure I have enough energy to do it. I was supposed to get married in 2025. Now I have to attend my best friend’s wedding on my own. And I know it’s my fault, because I got bitter and most of all, because I lost hope. And at the same time, it’s not my fault.

The truth is, I don’t know how many more years I can live on 10% of what I used to be and I don’t want anyone to have to go through this with me. I’m not going to do anything stupid anytime soon. But I can’t do this forever if there is no treatment or hope for improvement on the horizon.

And as always when my life goes to shit, I got attached to another actress more than twice my age. And Patti is keeping me afloat right now. She’s so full of life that I can’t help but feel a little alive as well.

“But upon an unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky” — LDR, Ride Monologue

Happy New Year.

[medstudydiary]

Study tips I wish I knew and followed sooner

15/8/2024

Hello everyone! I haven’t posed for a while because I was preparing this post. I’m so excited to share it!!!

Here I collected everything I was able to think about study tips. Obviously these are things that work for me so it’s absolutely okay if different things work for you, maybe share them in the comments so we can help and inspire each other🌸

I’ll maybe update the list as I learn more tips, or if you prefer I can collect new tips in a part two or give each tip a post, again let me now in the comments what you’d prefer💕

Less is more when underlining. Do use highlighter for key words, than circle words of secondary importance and underline something else. Absolutely do not underline/highlight/circle everything you’ll study, just those words that will help you remember the rest of that paragraph. It can help to use different colours but only when there are lists or categories because it helps you remember things as distinguished from one another. But I wouldn’t go crazy with colours in other situations

Take notes during lectures just to follow the explanation. Unless the subject is really easy and it’s fast to summarise it (which is usually the case in high school but not really in university), do NOT turn those notes into the thing you’ll study from or you’ll end up summarising the whole book and rewriting your notes to make them more pleasant and understandable. Just let yourself be messy if needed and use them to pay attention during class and to write things you didn’t understand or connections you want to explicitly see on paper. Paying attention in class really does pay off because you’ve already been exposed to the material before you actually study it

Start as early as possible, do not procrastinate until it’s gonna be really hard to prepare the exam. The pain of studying is better than the pain of regret in my opinion. Plus, you’ll be at peace and relaxed during exam season too when everyone else will be panicking because you won’t feel behind in your work

Get ready to study. Make yourself pretty. You can have everything, if you’re dressed for it. You don’t need to be uncomfortable with heels or anything like that, but wear something that makes you feel confident and determined

Moving your body before studying or during a break can help you be more present and remove brain fog. A simple walk outside really does the trick for me, it doesn’t need to be anything intense

Do not set an amount of pages to study per day as a goal at first. The first days just study for a chosen amount of hours and see how many pages you get to do a day of that particularly subject. Than you’ll be able to choose a realistic daily goal of pages to study. That’s because not every subject is the same and maybe you’d be setting unrealistic daily goals that will just demotivate you. This is why it’s important to start early: you get to find your rhythm for studying that subject and if it’s just 15 pages a day you’ll be able to do so without stressing

Give yourself a week or two depending on you and the exam of just revising before an exam. It’s important so that if you have days where you can’t function because of anxiety or if you need to clarify things you can do that without stressing

If the exam requires exercising, start practicing as soon as possible

If you only have a multiple choice kind of exam, memorise through quizzing yourself and exercises if needed

If the exam is (also) oral, you should (also) practice talking from the start by studying out loud

Sit in front of the class during lectures to pay attention better

Paper>digital because digital screens cause bad eyesight, digital things can get you distracted and because as you proceed on paper you’ll turn pages and you’ll get the feeling of progressing while seeing yourself going further in the book

Do not compare. Not everyone has the same strengths nor experience to get the same performance. But with discipline you can still get the same results, or even better

Study with a friend. You don’t neeed to study out loud together, the company is enough motivation because you feel accountable for one another and that stimulates you to do better. Plus, breaks are much more fulfilling and actually resting because you talk to another human being instead of going on your phone

Removing distractions means out of sight out of mind. Do not just turn off your phone and let it on the desk. Move it to another room and leave it there

Discipline is like a muscle. Resist the urge to do something else (checking your phone, watching Netflix, going to eat something, …). Acknowledge the urge and just stop yourself from satisfying it. If you can’t concentrate either, that’s okay. Just sit still without doing anything until the urge passes, then you can go back to studying with more concentration

Kill the fear whilst it’s small. Don’t procrastinate, instead face your challenges as soon as you can. The only way out is through

Talk to someone if you need help. If you need someone to check in on you, ask your roommate or relatives. If you didn’t understand something, ask the professor or your classmates. If you need emotional support, talk to the people close to you. It really does help

Go to the exam. Even if everything tells you that you’ll fail. Because you never know if you get lucky and only get asked the things you know. It happened to me quite a few times. The worst thing that can happen is that you have to do the exam again, the best is that you passed the exam. You never lose

Positive attitude and responsibility are key. Find the positive thing in every situation and realise that you have a huge responsibility in preparing for exams. You can’t control everything, but you can control the work you put into the preparation and that’s amazing because nobody can take that from you

There’s not a right time for anything. There’s just time and what you do with it. If it’s 5:17 pm you don’t need to wait until 5:30 pm to start studying. Just count to three and start. Do not look for the best time to study on the internet. Some people will tell you it’s 6 am, others will tell you something different. Listen to your body and pay attention to your mind. When are you the most concentrated? Than handle the day according to that. When you are the most active and concentrated you should study new material. When you are still energised but less focused, you should revise previous work and/or practice it

Sport, friends, family, hobbies and sleep are not a plus but a must. They have been a plus for me for so many years and I’ve been burnt out for almost a year. You need to take that hour or half hour to workout, preferably outside so you get that vitamin D. You need to see friends and family to avoid isolation. You need hobbies to feel rewarded for your hard work. You need to sleep because during sleep you strengthen neuronal patterns about the things you’ve studied, and sleeping helps you lower cortisol which is the stress hormone and keeping high levels of it is really bad and counterproductive. You need to balance everything because you gotta avoid at all costs chronic stress

Fear of failure is such a useless thing. It freezes you and makes you feel like the world is gonna explode if you fail. That’s bullshit of course. You are so much more than what you fail in, especially if you put in the work anyway. Don’t worry about how many times you fall, because the real difference is made by how many times you get up and try again. Fail, then fail better. Until you get it. Who cares? And even if someone does care, it’s their problem. As long as you are trying, you’re doing progress because remember that little progress is still progress. To worry less about failing, do the things you’re scared to fail at. If you fail, you’ll realise nothing bad really happens. And if you succeed, you’ll surprise yourself. Doubt kills way more opportunities than failure ever will, remember that

Be careful who you surround yourself with. If you are already really well organised and following a balanced lifestyle, then stay with whoever you like. But if you’re working on your lifestyle and don’t feel really productive nor satisfied with it yet, surround yourself with people who do have the lifestyle you’re looking for. That’s because when you’re still working on it you’re more likely to pick up habits from those around you

Be honest with yourself. Was the professor really a dick or did you not study that topic? Do you really need to rest are do you just want to avoid the work? Will you be able to do the work you wanted to if you go out right now? Telling yourself excuses makes you accumulate feelings of rage and subconscious disappointment and you enter the victim mentality instead of taking accountability and realising you can do a lot to change a situation. If you tell yourself excuses you’ll end up not trusting yourself and that’s so hard to fix

Often what people say about a professor is completely subjective, usually because they’ve had a bad experience with her/him and therefore want (usually subconsciously) to scare other students by sharing it. So you never really know if they are lying so that you have a bad experience with that teacher too, or maybe they deserved that strict treatments because they were rude and unprepared, … You really never know until you experience it first hand. Do ask many students and go attend to other people’s exam if possible so that you get an idea of who the professor is and how he structures the exam, make sure to listen to more opinions and never take them for granted. Know that everything might be biased

Take advices, but remember that many people want to see you do good, but never better than them. This doesn’t apply for everyone of course, but to many people yes

Pomodoro technique or deep work? Who fucking knows honestly lmao. Not everything will have the same rhythm and difficulty. For some topics or subjects you’ll have a headache after one hour trying to understand two pages. For others you’ll study without stopping for four hours because everything will seem to just be clear to you and to be sticking to your brain. Don’t follow a rule, just start and have a break when you’re struggling to fit in other informations

What you eat matters. Light meals to avoid feeling sleepy right afterwards help you study right after eating. Water keeps your brain in shape. Proteins keep you full and carbs keep you going. Sugar is tricky because it gives you energy right away but after little time you’ll need more, leading you to eating too much sugar and feeling foggy. Prefer healthy carbs instead of sugar (do eat some sugary treats if you want of course lol) like rice to have a more sustained energy release and mental clarity. These are the things that work for me anyway, you can experiment and see if you work better when eating many small meals or fewer big meals. Everyone is different and I’m not a nutritionist so listen to your body and try to be healthy

Celebrate small victories

Realistic goals please. Wanting to study 100 pages everyday is usually pretty unrealistic in a healthy and even in an unhealthy lifestyle. Not achieving your goals makes you feel like you can’t trust nor rely on yourself and that demotivates you

To focus try to think about the material. Read a sentence and tell yourself what it’s explaining you. Associate it with other things you’ve studied or experienced. Create little stories into your mind to remember a series of events. Anagrams for lists of names. Highlight, circle and underline as explained in one of the first points. Even give titles to paragraphs if you need to. Do this things with your own words and if you need to write them, do it right next to the paragraph. If you do these things you can’t think about something else because these require effort and attention. This a called active studying because you’re not passively reading and highlighting or repeating word for word without understanding but you’re really absorbing what you’re studying

Revise things constantly. Not a week later, but the next day. And if the next day you still don’t feel like you’ve memorised it, repeat it again the following day. If you remember it, repeat it 3 or 5 or 7 days later based on how much you retain things and how much you feel like you’ve memorised it. And after you’ve reached one week, keep repeating based on your needs. This is absolutely a game changer otherwise one or two weeks before the exam when you’ll want to revise everything again, you’ll realise you’ll have to study again a lot of things because you haven’t revised then. Such a waste! This is called spaced repetition, but instead of telling you a specific technique, I believe you need to listen to yourself and realise how much you’ve retained something to understand when to revise it again. Not every topic is the same and not everything you’ve memorised is relevant to you, so some things require more repetition than others and it’s up to you to see when it’s more for. But be honest with yourself, don’t tell yourself you know something just because you don’t want to revise. Reading again something is not revising it because just because it will feel familiar, doesn’t mean you’re able to talk about it completely recalling from memory. It’s important for you to repeat from memory, even if you struggle and feel like you don’t remember. Give yourself more credit and try to remember for at least 10 seconds before peeking on the book

Have something you enjoy while studying. It can be music (only music that does NOT have lyrics like lofi music or rain), a cup of tea, a candle, …

Switch up the location if you can’t focus

You don’t need a thousand pens, notebooks and colours to be productive and organised, but I believe it’s not a bad idea to have a different notebook for each subject where you take notes and write diagrams or whatever you need to better comprehend that subject

[jaydizzel2844]

Marie x Jordan Drabble

(NSFW)

No. 5

Marie is having a pretty good day. She woke up feeling refreshed to a text from Jordan wishing them good luck in their exam today with a gym selfie from their morning workout. Marie shamelessly enjoyed the picture of their partner sweaty and flexing in their smaller form before heading out.

She skipped breakfast to go straight to the lecture hall her exam’s in to get a bit of last minute cramming in which worked out brilliantly cuz the section that she went over happened to what half the exam was about.

She left the exam feeling like she definitely passed and maybe even aced it. The hunger from skipping breakfast started to set in and just as she was trying to remember if there is a vending machine between her and her next lecture hall that she could hit up in the 10 minutes she had before her class; her amazing partner appeared, holding a Vought burger breakfast sandwich.

“Hey, you mentioned that you were skipping breakfast so I thought you be hungry. “ they said, striding over to her. An anxiety seems to hit them and they continue with. “Sorry if this is weird, you don’t have eat it.”

Marie quickly cut off Jordan’s rambling with a kiss. “Thank you so much, you’re to good to me.”

“I have to go to class but… um… you have a good have a good day.” They said, lightly blushing with their big, toothy grin.

“I will,” Marie said, holding up the sandwich “thanks to you. “

The two parted ways, with Marie scarfing her sandwich on her way to class. Any food would have been appreciated but Jordan got her breakfast order perfect (Eggs, bacon and sausage in a role with extra ketchup and a dash of mustard) so an extra thank you was due.

The rest of her day went similarly well, classes were interesting, she didn’t get much homework and she had a great chat with Emma over lunch.

So yeah Marie was having a pretty good day and hoped to end it with some special time with her boyfriend-girlfriend-themfriend.

***

To Jordan 💙🤍

Hey, I’m done with class for the day. Would you like to hang out?

From Jordan 💙🤍

Ye

im just hanging in my dorm

To Jordan 💙🤍

Omw

***

Marie let herself into Jordan’s room (she knows the password) to find Jordan sitting on the couch, furiously pressing buttons on their PlayStation controller.

“Hey, two secs.” They said not taking their eyes off the screen.

“Take your time.” She said, taking off her shoes and putting down her bag. By the time she was done, Jordan had finished and put down the controller.

“Hey, what do you want to do?”

“I’ve got some ideas.” Marie said as she straddled Jordan on the couch, running her hands through their shoulder length hair.

“I like your ideas.” Jordan said smirking. They switched, unsettling Marie a bit as the lap beneath her raised and widened before leaning in for a kiss.

Jordan’s hands quickly found their way to her ass as her own cradled their face.

“You were very good to me today,” Marie said as she made her way to Jordan’s neck, kissing as she goes. “Taking care of me, bringing me food, even got my order right without me having to tell you. You’re so considerate and you pay attention. You’re honestly just the best. I’m so lucky.”

Jordan moaned as Marie kissed these words into their jaw, neck and collarbone. Marie could feel Jordan’s blood rushing south through her powers and reached a hand down to check.

“Someone’s excited.” She smiled, feeling the tangible evidence of her effect on Jordan.

“Yeah, well…”Jordan blushed and looked away. “You’re grinning on my lap and saying nice things to me. What do you expect.”

“I should say nice things to you more often,” she said kisses their cheek. “It wouldn’t be hard, complementing someone as good as you.”

Jordan wimped.

Marie lightly squeezed their crotch, it was fascinating to feel the blood moving beneath her hand. Rushing into the tissue to expand it, pushing the appendage up against the forces of gravity and Jordan’s jeans. She gets a bit too entranced by the sensation and just sits there, feeling it, for a while.

Jordan cleared their throat. “You ok?”

“Yes. Sorry. The blood flow… it’s interesting. Anyway I shouldn’t just sit here holding your dick, that’s weird.” Marie stammered out, blushing furiously. ‘Why do I have to be so fucking weird’ she thought to herself. ‘I’ve exploded the blood in a dick before. This is probably freaking them out. I need to get off them and leave right now.’

“I’m actually totally ok with you holding my dick.” Jordan said with a laugh, their hands on her ass tighten a bit as though they could tell she was about to make a break for it. “You can do whatever you want, I trust you.”

Marie leaned her forehead against Jordan’s, taking a deep breath. “Thanks,” she said, trying to get things back on track as she began to slowly unbutton their jeans “why don’t you show me exactly what you’d like me to do with your dick?”

“Oh I’d be delighted to.”

[sl-newsie]

Mature (Dr. Spencer Reid x College Student)

(Summary: The BAU gets a case that takes place near a college campus, and one student seems to catch Reid’s attention. There is a bit of an age gap. This is based during the end of Season 6. Warnings: Talk of cannibalism, gun violence)

“Remember class: Monday’s exam will have 150 questions and no makeups. Remember to study hard!”

My dental hygiene professor finally releases us, signaling the beginning of the weekend. It’s currently 5:30 on a sunny but crisp Friday in October. Nothing special, but the lack of leaves and chilly frosts makes it one of my favorite seasons. But I can’t take too much time to watch the weather- I’ve got work to do.

Of course I’m the only student who dares to sit in the front of the lecture hall, and I take my time to gather up my things as the others start filing out.

“You going to the game tonight?” One guys asks his friends.

“Yeah it’s gonna be sick! You’re bringing the beer, right?”

“Sure am! And what about-” He whispers: “The pot?”

Their conversation dies away as the walk out of the room, leaving me to shake my head in disappointment. No doubt their whole weekend will involve drinking, getting high, and possible sexual content. More than likely they’ll fail the exam.

“Merrian! Are you coming to the game?” I hear one classmate, Regina, ask.

“No, I can’t. I’m going for a jog and then starting my flashcards for the exam.”

Regina, one of the more popular and *cough* snobby girls gives me a fake smile. “Oh you never go to any social events! Why not give that brain a break and be a college student for once?”

I just shake my head and continue to look through my notes. “I am being a college student, only I’m being a smart one and actually trying to get through this class without depleting any brain cells through alcohol abuse.”

But my insult flies right over Regina’s head. She just keeps smiling, turns and walks away, leaving me (no surprise) alone again. But it appears today has something else in store, because the door opens and my professor walks back in leading a group of people who look way too professional for a place like this. The one that appears to be the leader is tall, dark-haired, and is wearing a traditional business suit. The man following next to him appears to be of Italian descent and is wearing a dark suit similar to the leader’s. Next is a blonde woman wearing- quite honestly, one of the most unique outfits I’ve ever seen. It’s a purple and blue patterned dress, hot pink heels, and a big purple bow with her hair in pigtails (it almost puts my current Veronica Sawyer gray skirt and blue blazer outfit to shame). Another man is bald with darker skin and a more athletic build, wearing a more laid-back style of clothing, obviously the muscle of the group. And last behind him is- huh. He’s a lot younger (and much cuter) than the others, one might say a few years older than me. He’s dark-haired like the other men and wearing slacks with a white shirt with a gray vest and blue tie, almost matching me. But what stands apart from his attire is the pistol tucked in a holster attached to his belt. It’s almost like the one I’ve got tucked under my skirt (for protection, of course). Are these guys from the police station? They don’t look like local authorities.

But sadly I’m still in the front and am caught looking.

“Who’s the model?” The blonde with pigtails asks, making me turn pink.

My professor finally notices me. “Oh yes. This is Merrian, one of my students. She’s just packing up-”

“On the contrary, it might be nice to have a younger person’s opinion on this matter,” the Italian agent speaks.

A younger opinion?

“By the way, I love your blazer!” The blonde squeals and rushes over to get a better look.

I title my head. “Not too bad yourself, Barbie.”

But the leader doesn’t seem too impressed. “At ease, Garcia. Remember why we’re here.”

The blonde nods and backs off, leaving me facing the group head-on.

“Is she trustworthy? We need to keep this as confidential as possible,” the athlete says.

My professor nods her head. “Merrian is one of the most dedicated students I have. I guarantee she’ll give you her best effort.”

“Very well.” The leader steps forward to shake my hand. “I’m FBI Agent Hotchner of the BAU. These are Agents Rossi, Morgan, Garcia, and Dr. Reid.” He points to each agent, and when he introduces Agent Reid I can’t help but notice his body language shifts. He keeps playing with his hands and changing his footing, and isn’t as relaxed as the other agents. Maybe he just drank coffee.

I give a small wave. “Hello. So, what is it you guys do? Obviously you’re a government department but I’ve never really paid attention to that stuff.”

“Don’t you watch the news?” The blonde ‘Garcia’ asks.

“Nope.”

This answer gets me surprised reactions, especially from Reid. 

“Why not?”

Yes, he’s definitely younger. His voice reminds me of the smart nerd type, but with my educational history I’ve never actually been able to meet many smart guys so it’s very new to hear this.

I shrug. “Ignorance is bliss. I figure if there’s something that’s truly important that’ll affect me then I’ll hear about it sooner or later. I try not to let the fear that strands from current events control my life.”

“Ok. Then to catch you up, we have a potential threat that’s been sited near the edge of town. There’s a man who’s been catching people in hunting traps and then eating them.”

Uh- Oh my! Was not expecting that. 

I try to keep a steady face. “Alright. So what does this have to do with me?”

“Your current study of dental work, plus the unsub seems to prefer female victims,” Reid speaks up. “There’s one witness who managed to escape his trap, but not before he bit her. We’ve been able to analyze the teeth marks, but it doesn’t match the correct dental records. They show the unsub’s supposed to be someone who died 10 years ago. We checked the death certificate and sure enough the body’s buried in a nearby cemetery. Do you have any ideas why?”

I take a deep breath and try to piece together what I’ve learned so far. I’ve only been in this program for a year, but that doesn’t mean I’m useless.

“Take your time,” Agent Rossi assures. “It doesn’t have to be much, just anything we might have missed-”

I snap. “I got it! Have any of you guys ever seen the movie The Whole Nine Yards with Bruce Willis?”

Most shake their heads, but then Reid seems to follow my idea.

“Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? Brilliant, Marrian!”

“Excuse me, mind letting us in on your inside joke?” Agent Morgan questions.

“At the end of the movie, they modify another body’s teeth to match Bruce Willis’ character and then burn it in a fire so the mafia will think he’s dead. What if this unsub had dental work done so he couldn’t be traced? ” My explanation starts the agents sparking up new conversations, leaving me to believe I might have actually just helped solve an FBI case.

“I know it’s not the type of professional answer you might have wanted.”

“That’s just the kind of insight we were looking for,” Agent Hotchner finally addresses me. “Thank you, Merrian. We’ll be sure to stay in touch and inform you if this threat is neutralized.”

He walks out, followed by Morgan. But the others linger for a moment.

“You’re taking all of this surprisingly well,” Rossi points out. “Ever consider becoming a profiler?”

I chuckle. “I did once, a few years ago. Sociology is one of my favorite subjects to learn, but I’ve just used that as a hobby. When I looked further into the job description I decided I wanted a career that wouldn’t take so much out of my free time. So for now I’m sticking with dental hygiene.”

He nods. “Well if you change your mind, here’s my card.” He hands me his contact info and exits after the other 2 agents.

“Tell me- where did you get your shoes?” Garcia asks when she points to my feet.

“Oh. Um, Goodwill actually.” I’m a bit embarrassed to say I’m a thrifter, but in college all money must go to classes.

“They’re so cute! I’ll email you my list of favorite thrift websites later,” she remarks as she walks to the door. 

“B- But Agent Garcia you don’t have my email-?”

“I’ll find it.” She winks. “And call me Penelope!”

She gives Reid a smirk and shuts the door, leaving me alone with the last agent.

“I gotta ask, how old are you?”

My blunt question doesn’t seem to be new to him. “30.”

I was right!

“Sorry for asking, but it’s just very different-”

“To see someone like me on a government bureau team,” he finishes. “It’s ok, lots of people ask. I could say the same thing about you.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

He mirrors my confusion. “Aren’t you close to my age?”

“I’m 22.”

Reid’s eyes widen. “No way! You look- I mean, you seem- Um… you don’t act 22.”

I chuckle and go to grab my backpack. “I get that a lot. My mom says I’m more mature than most people my age, which means I have to be forced to associate with immature peers. I just hope other people never assume I’m the typical college type. You know, drugs, drinking, sex, procrastination. I’ve never even gone to one party. I apologize for the idiots you might come across here.”

I expect the FBI agent to leave it at that and go off to find his team, but instead he jogs up behind and walks with me down the hall.

“No I don’t see you like that, it’s just… you’re definitely more mature, and seem more clear-headed than the other students I’ve seen here so far.

I hold my head back and laugh. “Oh, no. By no means am I as smart as you might think. I have what I call ‘selective knowledge.’ I never picked just one topic I like, so I find bits and pieces of information about all kinds of topics. But not too much in depth that I’m an expert. With what I know about you so far I’d say you’re way more smart.”

He looks down. “Yeah, kinda.”

“Spill it. What’s your education background?”

“Um… I’ve got PhDs in mathematics, chemistry, and engineering. Bachelor’s in psychology, sociology, and in the process of one in philosophy.”

I stop dead in my tracks and turn to look at him with wide eyes. “And you’re downplaying that? Jesus, you’ve got more knowledge stuffed in your brain then I’d ever have in 5 lifetimes! Why choose a job in the BAU?”

He considers this. “I find that I do some of my best work under intense terror.”

I nod. “It’s nice to know what type of job works best. I’ve jumped around different jobs, and still haven’t found one that fits right. As for the terror thing, props to you for dealing with that on a daily basis.”

Dr. Reid seems surprised. “Hm. You don’t mind crazy talk, do you?”

I stifle a laugh and hold the next door open for him to pass. “‘Crazy talk?’ What’s that?”

“Talking about subjects that any random passerby would find odd, like murder or psychological disease.”

“You’re talking to someone who watches The Conjuring as a comfort film. I don’t call that crazy talk, I call that enjoyable conversation,” I smile cheekily as he walks past me through the doorway. “You gonna go find your team now?”

Reid clears his throat and bites his lip. “Well, um… Since the unsub’s been sighted near the city I should make sure to get you to your dorm safely.”

This unsub must be pretty dangerous for him to be this anxious. Or is it something else that’s got him so worried? I must say it feels nice to have a smart guy to talk with who’s actually taking the time to make sure I’m safe instead of daring me to chug a beer.

“Aw, that’s sweet. But I don’t live in a dorm, I live in a small rented room downtown.”

“Really? I guess you really aren’t like normal students. So where are you going now?”

Is he asking professionally or out of curiosity?

“There’s a secret spot I have in the theatre lab. Dark and quiet with a nice table. Good for studying.”

He perks up. “Dark? Do you think you could show me?”

I shrug and start leading him to the lab, pushing my sleeve back to check my watch. “Sure, just don’t tell anyone. I like having a place where stupidity is at a minimum.”

Reid gets a wide grin on his face and follows eagerly. “Your secret’s safe with me. It’s kind of embarrassing but lately I’ve been dealing with- Oh my gosh! Are you hurt?”

I follow his gaze to my arm, which has gauze wrapped around it. I’m surprised he noticed- usually people don’t give it a second thought.

“Wha-? Oh, no. I donated plasma earlier today and have to keep this on for 2 hours.”

“I see. Do you get paid?”

“Yup. If they’re willing to pay me to sit in a chair for an hour, money is money. Gotta pay the college bills somehow. So what have you been dealing with?”

“Right. Um, I’ve had these headaches for a while now and none of the doctors I’ve seen can tell me what’s wrong. They’re triggered by bright lights, so that’s why I like to find dark places to think.”

Hearing this makes me sad, especially since a nice guy like him shouldn’t have to go through something like that.

“Then don’t have me keep ya waiting. Here we are!”

Now we’re at the theatre lab and when I open the door to let him in, Reid . “So then how are you liking your dental hygiene clinicals?”

I set my backpack down and switch a small light on. “I like it, but it’s more of a job that pays well and allows me free time. Next summer I’m looking into a program that gives me a certificate in culinary pastry design-” I stop myself before I start ranting. “Sorry, I don’t mean to talk your ear off. People don’t always listen this long so I usually just talk to keep away any awkward silence. Americans are intimidated by it, you know.”

Agent Reid just nods and sits down on a nearby stool. “I don’t mind. I like hearing you talk.”

“But it’s not as intellectual as you’re used to.”

“Maybe not, but- how should I describe it? You’re like a funfetti cake.”

Reid’s analogy makes me giggle and give him an odd look. “Um, thanks? How so?”

“Because you’re not just one flavor. You bring a sprinkling of all different topics, and none of them are boring or immature. Go ahead, continue.” Reid sits back as if he’s sitting in for a lecture, and I’m the teacher.

“Um… ok. So anyways, between work, school, and all my other hobbies it’s no surprise when I keep telling my mom I haven't gone on a date-”

“Wait, seriously?” Reid interrupts. “You’ve never gone on a date?”

I try to ignore the heat rushing to my cheeks and go turn on the music speaker. “Never got a chance to. Back in high school I was more introverted and read all the time. Now no one wants to be around a boring, mature college student who dresses… like this.” I gesture to my unusual outfit.

“Hm. I’d think you would’ve been able to find at least one decent guy.”

I’m not sure if he’s kidding or just trying to be nice.

“Don’t make me laugh. Even the few guys I’ve talked to see me as a colleague or acquaintance, not even friendship status. I’ve steered clear of all the red flags and bad habits college kids typically get into, and it’s gotten me this far. All I’ve got is some family, my cat, and my brain.”

Reid doesn’t say anything, and a part of me is glad for it while the other half is a nervous wreck. While I don’t want to really get into the details of my miserable social life, at the same time I’m strangely anxious about what the handsome doctor thinks of me.

“It’s the musical season, isn’t it? I can tell you’re a fan.” How does he-? “I’m guessing on account of the Newsies sticker on your water bottle and your outfit that resembles Veronica Sawyer from Heathers.”

A smile grows on my face. “Oh! A profiling genius and a theatre fan! You’ve got quite the brain, Dr. Reid.”

“I actually only recently got interested in it after watching one of Garcia’s plays- oh! You actually remembered!” Reid scratches his head and smiles. “Thanks, that means a lot.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“People don’t always address me by my full title. So what’s on your agenda now?” He seems to rethink and adds: “Not that I’m being nosy!”

His curiosity isn’t uncomfortable for me. If anything it’s nice to have someone take an interest.

“I was going to practice for musical auditions, but since you’re here I’ll just do some homework.”

“Oh I don’t mind! Really! I won’t laugh, promise,” Reid says sincerely.

“No, no. I do my best work alone, as always.”

He frowns. “That’s not a healthy mindset.”

I chuckle darkly. “I’m not exactly the ‘teamwork makes the dreamwork’ kinda gal. I’ve always done best on my own, so I don’t argue it-”

“Attention, attention!” The intercom starts blasting an alarm overhead. “There has been a potential shooter spotted near the edge of campus. All students, staff, and visitors are to head immediately towards a sheltered area. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill!”

Agent Reid immediately goes alert and checks his pistol. “We better get to a more secure location. Come with me!”

He goes for the door, but I don’t see a reason to leave.

“No, you go find your team. I’ll stay here. It’s a hidden spot, anyway.”

But Reid shakes his head with concern and takes my hand. “No, I can’t allow that. If the unsub is here he’ll go after you. You’re his type, Marrian, and I won’t let you get hurt.” 

Wow. I’m sure he’s just doing his job. Still it’s becoming incredibly difficult to ignore the growing affection for the geeky agent. And it doesn't help that normally I’m a very anti-touching person. 

He pulls out a cell phone and dials a number. “Hotch, this is Reid. What’s your location?” After a few moments he says: “Yes, I’m here with the student we interviewed in the theatre lab. We’ll meet you there. Yeah I know, we’ll be careful.” Reid seems to notice my slight reaction to his physical touch and his hold tightens. “I need you to stick close to me, understand?” 

I nod and follow him out. “This is… definitely not what I planned for a regular Friday evening, but as my mom always says I need to stay open-minded. Lead the way, Dr. Reid!”

His stern face lightens by a fraction. “Um, you can call me Spencer if you want.”

Is- Is he trying to flirt? Seriously, I wouldn’t know. Somebody tell me!

“Isn’t that less professional? I thought you FBI guys were all suits and no humor.”

He doesn’t answer and triple-checks the hallway before signaling the all-clear. We quietly make our way to the main office, and the whole time I’m trying to ignore Reid’s hand clutching mine. 

“We'll be able to-”

“Look out!” I push Spencer out of the way just as a bullet flies past my head, but I’m not too lucky with the second one. It buries itself in my left shoulder blade and the sudden force sends me crashing to the cold floor.

“Oh my God!” Reid shouts and kneels down to address my wound.

“Well hello, my pretty,” a deep sinister voice chuckles. A figure in a black hood lurks out from the corner, with a hunting rifle pointed directly at Spencer.

“I’ve gone too far this time, too far to disappear. But I’ve got one more chance, right? That’s right.” He points at me, the gun wedged pointed on his shoulder. “I’ve been watching you, girly. And I like you. Your healthy diet is most delightful, and…” He gets a twisted look with a sinister smile on his face. “Such a pretty face…”

“You leave her alone!” Reid speaks sternly. 

I turn to find him pointing his pistol at the unsub, but the man just laughs.

“My my, Dr. Reid. You’ve grown quite attached to this woman. I’m almost sad to have to kill her and end such a blooming young love.”

Love? I don’t know who this guy thinks he is, but he’s creeping me out! Still not what I planned for a regular Friday evening… 

The unsub starts to creep closer, and before I know it I’m backed against the wall with Spencer at my right.

“Don’t you touch her!” Reid shouts. “Stand back or I will shoot!”

“Oh no you won’t, Dr. Reid!” The unsub turns angry. “You won’t, or else I will skip my evening meal and blow a hole in this girl’s brain right now!”

He’s going to kill me… Eat me… Oh God. But I can’t let him hurt Spencer. His life is worth a thousand times more, and I couldn’t stand to see him get hurt.

The unsub is still focused on Spencer, so while he’s distracted I slowly inch my hand towards my skirt, almost to my concealed pistol-

Bam!

The unsub fires what seems like a warning shot and in the sudden chaos Reid fires his gun too. Reid doesn’t get shot, and instead his own bullet buries itself in the unsub’s calf. He stumbles out of sight around the corner.

“Quick! In here!” Reid pulls me into a nearby classroom and shuts the door. “Are you in pain?”

Yes! Every inch of skin in my shoulder is screaming at me and the adrenaline is starting to wear off, allowing the pain to escalate. But I need Reid to focus on the task at hand.

“I’m fine. I’m fine…” My head starts to feel dizzy and I put a hand to my shoulder, pulling it away to find it covered in blood.

“No you’re not fine. Here-” Spencer takes off his tie and does a makeshift tourniquet near my acromial region. “It won’t last long, but it’s the best I can do.” He kneels down and starts searching through his pockets. “I’m all out of bullets!”

“My… my skirt. Under my skirt…” 

He lifts the fabric up to reveal my pistol. “When did you get that?”

“Since I turned 21, but I’m too dizzy to shoot it. Take it!” Reid removes my pistol from its holster, using careful hands to show modest intentions. “Now go. Go stop him.”

“But if you don’t keep appropriate pressure on it then you could bleed out!”

“Just go! I’ll figure it out. I don’t care if I pass out, you gotta go stop him and end this.”

I’m pretty sure Reid’s now speaking through panic mode. “No you can’t die! I still need to ask you out!” Did I hear that right?

“You- what? I think I’m starting to blank out. You need to what?”

But Reid doesn’t answer. He just rubs a hand through his messy hair in frustration, while all I can do is slowly slip in and out of consciousness. When he’s decided his next move he leans down and kisses my forehead, and if it weren’t such an unusual situation I’d actually have butterflies in my stomach.

“I’ll be right back, Merrian. I promise.”

And just like that he sprints out. I don’t know how long it’s been, but soon I hear gunshots in the hall and all I can do before I pass out is pray that Spencer’s ok…

“She’s lost a lot of blood, but she’ll live.”

“Quiet an injury. She’s lucky you were with her.”

“And where is she going to?”

My mind buzzes to life and I start to become aware of my surroundings, opening my eyes to find myself in a hospital bed. My arm has an IV. More than likely they’ve given me morphine for pain control. But the biggest relief is when I see Reid talking to one of the doctors at the foot of the bed.

“Spencer… you’re ok,” I croak through a groggy voice.

He notices I’m awake and quickly rushes over to give me a gentle hug. I see he has no wounds, another relief.

“God Merrian, I’m so sorry. I was supposed to protect you-” He whispers into my hair.

“No, don’t worry about me. You did all you could, Spencer. Is the unsub taken care of?”

He nods repeatedly. “Yeah. I shot him dead right after I left, but by the time I got back you’d already blacked out-”

“Excuse me sir,” the doctor steps forward. “I’m afraid she has to be transferred now.”

I look up with wide eyes. “Transferred? Where? What do you mean?”

“The bullet nicked one of your main arteries,” the doctor explains in a calm voice. “We don’t have the proper tools or expertise to perform the surgery on your shoulder, so you are being transferred to Grand Rapids.

“Then I’m going with her,” Reid pipes up.

“I’m sorry sir, but unless you are a guardian or next of kin then you cannot accompany the patient-”

“She’s the victim of a BAU unsub. That makes this a government matter so I should be able to find an excuse to go-”

“No you can’t, Reid.”

We all turn and find Agent Hotchner, along with the rest of the BAU team, walking into the room.

“We’ve been called back to Quantico. I’m afraid you need to say your goodbyes now.”

Spencer and I exchange disappointed looks, but I figure good things must come to an end. All this unsub business is enough excitement to last me a long time, even though I am sad to see the handsome agent go.

“I’ll be fine, Spencer.” I give him a small smile. “Go do what you do best.” 

He nods, seeming to debate something in his head. “I- I’m glad I got to meet you, Merrian.”

I chuckle. “I should be the one saying that about you, the great Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Spencer returns my laughter and takes my hand again. “Feel better. I know from personal experience that recovering from a gunshot is no easy task. I’ll come visit as soon as I have free time. And… I’d like to take you out sometime, maybe someplace where you won’t get shot?”

His question is asked as if it’s a simple classroom inquiry, but it’s making my heart jump (unfortunately shown by the heartbeat monitor). I can tell Reid’s nervous just as I am, but I know it’s all part of the dating ritual.

“I’d like that.”

He cocks his head. “What part?”

“The not being shot part is definitely a perk, but I’d like to finally go on my first date. With you.”

Spencer gets excited and I can already see the wheels spinning in his head just as Agent Hotchner calls for Reid to get going.

“I- I’ll see you later, then! Hope you won’t mind me ranting about literature by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?”

I squeeze his hand just as the paramedics start to get me ready to leave. “It’s a date, Spencer.”

Reid’s POV

The ride on the Jet is quiet, and as usual I chose to read alone in a corner. This time I’ve chosen Hallowe'en Party by Agatha Christie, most appropriate for the upcoming holiday in a few weeks.

“Hey loverboy! You gonna join us for a card game?” Morgan smirks from the table. “Or is your head too fuzzy thinking about your new friend?”

“You do know I could still beat you, right?” I ask matter-of-factly.

“Screw cards! I wanna hear all about the boy genius’ new girlfriend!” Garcia giggles.

I just shake my head and turn back to my book, ignoring their gossiping chatter. I won’t let their teasing get to me. Ever since Emily died my mind’s been in a fog, but meeting Merrian seemed to snap me back into reality. Give me something to hope for. All I know is I can’t wait to get time off so I can see her again…

[bigtreefest]

Hi Essie!

I was just reading your post on your application and this is just a thought -- you don't have to respond at all if you don't like this idea!! this idea is purely my CPH4 brain talking I swear I have nothing to do with this lol

So, a young man (okay maybe not so young he was born four years ahead of you according to his page in the uni website ) with some very serious frowning becomes your thesis supervisor at the end of the term. He taught one lesson that you attended and you didn't know him very well besides his name. He rarely speaks, always listening to your presentation/answer, and very occasionally asking "do you have any questions for me?"

Nevertheless, you have impressive GPA and at the end of that term, you decided to apply for a PhD. You already have two letters of recommendation, one from a professor that you have known for two years during your Master's, one from a professor that supervised your Bachelor thesis and teaching a few courses that you attended.

But this damn Graduate School that you want to get in requires THREE. THREE FUCKING RECOMMENDATION LETTERS. And it specifically requires the letter from your dissertation supervisors.

You ask, not with much hope, your current supervisor, the lecturer with a very serious frowning look on his face, whether he could provide you a letter of recommendation.

To which he responded, texting back in a matter of seconds.

-Ofc. When do you need it? Send your transcripts btw.

NOW, the question is: Is he

or

or

----I just thought it'd be hilarious if he's very serious during class and meetings while he's basically any 20-somethings when texting you and discussing things that he shouldn't be sharing with you (like the content of your recommendation letter, or the fact that three recommendation letters is absolutely worthless even though he's providing one for you, or that because another professor is cranky and possibly stealing work from their students, you def shouldn't be choosing him as your doctor supervisor)

Oh I absolutely adore this ask! Thank you so much for sending this in, I unfortunately know the hierarchy of academia too well which is why I honestly think I would be rolling my eyes at these standards, too. I took the prompt and ran with it. 😂

I wanna talk about the other two options before I get to my choice. All below the cut bc it’s long.

Let’s discuss Ari:

Throughout Ari’s undergrad degree, he played football and was greatly interested in world policies, so everyone thought once his sports career and degree was over, he’d be ready to get out there. Nope. He really wasn’t sure where to start, so instead, he decided to keep going with schooling.

His grades were just good enough for him to get into the program you were applying to now. Varsity athletics looked great on the application and his charm was the extra boost. Now that he’s in it though, it’s been almost seven years instead of the usual four to five. Part of it is him going in without much of a plan, wanting to try every avenue, while the other is him just not caring enough to push further and just finish the degree. He’s getting paid just enough to get by and no one has threatened to kick him out, so he enjoys the coasting and the free time it gives for him to look into his actual passions.

Part of the PhD program is all of the grad students sitting in a room grading exams of undergrads every few weeks, and during this, Ari really shows his personality. They have to sit there for hours on end, and it can get boring, so Ari will tell stories to the kid next to him to pass the time, except the room is so quiet that everyone hears. These will range from the various dates with odd girls, to that time he saw a video of someone cooking salmon in the dishwasher, so he tried it out. “It was pretty decent. I swear it’s Kosher! I would do it again if it didn’t take so long.”

Any time he gets trusted to teach, which is rare since his advisor doesn’t really want it in order to guarantee the kids are being taught correct content, questions are not answered very well. It’s either with a “hell if I know. Use google. That’s how they do it in the real world.” Or “wait for the professor to get back. This isn’t my expertise.” Both technically valid, but not what a younger student wants to hear from someone in a position of authority.

Star Student Steve:

Steve was born for upper-level studies. He’s been ready to graduate essentially since getting into the program, knowing exactly what he wanted to research right off the bat. He knows all the content well and is well-liked by students and professors alike. The undergrads have a habit of ogling him and crowding his office hours, so you never even bothered to go. Pending his early graduation, he’s already been offered a job at the university with a full federal research grant, which he could use to travel or gain equipment for his projects. He’s probably considering this, unless one of the prime companies/agencies gives him a better offer. He can’t wait for the opportunity to make new rules and discoveries in the field, just needs to find the best route to get him there. (Talk about a CPH4 brain, haha)

With all of this going on, though, he doesn’t have time for much else. Sure, he’s very kind, but he’s always on the move. Students are not his first priority right now if he wants everything in place to be successful and make history. When it comes to picking an advisor, everyone wants Steve, but after hearing all that, and the standard he might hold you to without giving you the time of day to reach that level, do you really want him?

My wonderful choice Curtis:

(Even before I saw my options, this description was screaming ‘Curtis’ to me.)

He’s definitely the kind of silent student who puts his head down and does his work because it’s difficult stuff. Some may say it’s even more difficult than Steve’s if they knew what Curtis actually did, but he’s so silent and keeps it to himself unless he’s asked. It’s not because he doesn’t want to share, it’s more because when he’s interacting with students, he understands his job is to help them first and foremost. Although Curtis may have been busy, he never rushed and made sure his full attention was on the task or person at hand.

All the Professors know Curtis and really like him for his work ethic and ability to maintain balance and remain a grounded person, except he’s just not a poster boy like Steve. For this reason, his advisor trusts him enough to teach certain classes since Curtis parses out his time well and not only knows the content, but cares about it deeply. At the end of his lectures, though, when he asks for questions, it’s radio silence. Perhaps it’s because he taught the material so well, but even Steve and Ari get the odd question about their research or last Sunday’s football game. Curtis gets disinterested stares until he dismisses everyone. Office hours are pretty quiet, too, until right around exam time when a few students come to him for help since everywhere else was so full. After seeing how helpful he is, yourself included, they keep going back to him, keeping it to themselves, though, keeping him their hidden secret gem.

The lack of recognition Curtis gets is a shame, though, because he’s so nice. Actually, not just nice, but genuinely kind. When you were assigned with him as your advisor, you weren’t really sure what to do. Not many talked about him and the stoic demeanor was a little intimidating, until you actually spoke with each other. He was so sweet and engaged, asking you questions and providing guidance not only on what he thought might work the best, but how to go about it and how to properly convey ideas to the committee panel members at the end. He gave you his phone number, too, in case you needed any help at all, saying he’d pick up anytime.

When you asked him for your letter of recommendation, he was elated. “No one has ever come to me for that before, but ofc. When do you need it? Send your transcripts btw. And your resume.”

Curtis was right, though, he had never had to be the voice of authority vouching on someone’s behalf since up until this point, he was in your exact shoes. “Don’t be nervous to ask questions, but I also don’t want you to think that I’ve got all the answers and you’re not good enough. The only difference between you and me academically is like four classes content-wise. I just have more hands-on experience.” He said it with a soft, reassuring smile that really put you at ease.

He’s aware of the system, and of course he hates it, because he knows what it’s like to be at the bottom. Throughout his time putting together your recommendation, he’s messaging you with updates. “I’m going to add this because they really like to see it specifically highlighted,” or “I’m not even sure what they’re asking here, but it’s fucking stupid if you ask me. Conventions like this are ridiculous. I hate that these decisions are made by people who aren’t even on the ground. If they actually took part in this program, they’d see you’re more than qualified to get into it. But no, for some reason, all important decisions are made by old people so far removed from actual work.”

That second one was in person, though. It wouldn’t look good to have him saying those things in writing. He rolls his eyes before switching back to his reassuring, charming self.

“Anyway, don’t worry. I’ll make sure it’s good.”

And then as he sits down to write, he constantly sends you lines from it. “Does this sound too braggy? Am I hyping up your work too much? I feel like it wouldn’t be fair if I was casual about it, but we’re rocking with a lot of enthusiasm right now and idk where the line is where it’ll seem insincere.😅”

You tend to hang around Curtis a lot while you’re working on finishing up. On small work breaks, he tells you about the weird little things the other PhD students have sent to his email. “I’m what, four years older than you? And so are these other guys, but I swear they act like they’re twelve.” It helps you to laugh at his small little complaints in a time of building stress. He lets you into his life and you see he’s a normal person, just a few years older than you. He’s the whole reason you know about Ari and the dishwasher salmon, and he helps to break down the barriers you feel against everyone in his program that seems to know so much. Half of your conversation is weird everyday things about his life you’re sure no one else has given him the space to talk about. “You texted me while I was watching the hockey game, they were losing anyway so I was grateful to do something else.” He was in the city…at the actual hockey game…drinking a beer and scrolling emails…. Or “my apartment has a no pet policy, but my roommate got a cat, so I hope you don’t mind the little guy joining us today. Just while the landlord does some maintenance so we don’t get kicked out.” He’s half shuffling through the papers on his desk, half giving you an amused smile thinking of the whole situation. Of course, it can’t all be personal, though, so he continues to sprinkle advice in here and there.

“Also, if you wanna keep your sanity around here, keep away from Levinson’s advisor. Not only is he just straight-up a ridiculous man, but he won’t push you if he likes you. And if he hates you, you’ll know it a mile away. That’s why I never chose him for my committee meeting.”

As you prepare to defend your thesis, Curtis is sitting with you in the hallway. He’s been prepping you for this presentation for weeks, but for peace of mind, he asks you potential questions as you wait to be called in. He holds a paper copy of your thesis, saying once again “you’ve got this. Just like the rehearsals. No one knows this stuff better than you. Show them that.” As you stand in front of the small crowd, he gives you a thumbs-up and watches with approving nods as your blow it out of the water.

He gives you a big hug when you pass and an even bigger hug when you stop by the small TA office and visit his desk to tell him about your official spot in the PhD program. “I can’t wait to work together more with you. You’re going to do great things, I know it, and I’m proud to be a part of it.”

[maryjane888]

On the stump (h.s.)

Author's note: english is not my first language, so please excuse any mistakes. Also, this first part is shorter but the others will be longer. Hope you enjoy. xx

Part I

"Y/n, please see me in my office after class." Professor Morris gave her a small smile after his request. "Nothing to worry about. Just some opportunities I would like to present you."

Y/n sighed of relief as the auditorium started to fill with sleepy students. She tought Mr. Morris would lecture her about the small pile of multiple choice exams in his desk that weren't all graded yet. Being a TA was reveling to be more time consuming than expected. She would have to reorganize her agenda for the third time this week, which also meant that she would have to skip tonight's plans with her friends. There was no room for mistakes or delays, if Mr. Morris was still planning to write her that recommendation letter.

"Alright, today we're going to talk about the decolonization of India. Don't forget the mandatory readings for this part of the course. I will not be speaking in detail about the process of independence of each asian countrie. If you have any questions, y/n can help you during office hours."

How wonderful, y/n thought, more workload. Must be punishment for all those exams.

...

"Take a seat". She pushed the dark oak chair back and smoothed her navy skirt before sitting down.

"This won't take long." He oppened a drawer on his desk, took some papers out of it and started to go through them.

"I have some connections in Vienna." He stopped and looked at her suggestively, adjusting his glasses. Y/n's palms started to sweat.

"I know New York would be more preferable, but Vienna is the only place now with open seats." Oh God. There was a faint quick thump sound in Mr Morris's office. It was y/n's nervous foot tapping in anticipation. He continued to flick through the pieces of paper until he found the one he wanted. Professor Morris pushed the single page in y/n's direction. Her hopeful eyes made him chuckle.

"That is a list of people responsible for selecting the interns at the UN offices in Vienna. Search their names and study them. I have also scribbled some tips for your upcoming interview." Y/n deviated her gaze from the paper to her professor in confusion.

"My interview?" Mr Morris smiled.

"Yes, your interview. Your application was accepted. You should receive an email soon explaining that you will move on to the next phase." She picked up the paper and pressed it tightly to her chest.

"Thank you, so much." He got up from his chair and buttoned his blazer.

"Now, if you fufill your position successfully as a TA by the end of the semester, I will make sure a recommendation letter gets to those offices." Y/n got up so excited her chair squeaked loudly and almost made her cringe. She was to happy to feel embarassed.

"I will not disappoint you, Professor Morris." She promised.

"I'm sure you won't." He then checked his wristwatch and complained about a meeting he was having with the faculty. Y/n took it as a cue to leave, but not without thanking him one more time.

...

The few students passing by looked strangely at the girl with the wide smile and a spring in her step. Who looks that enthusiastic on a Thursday morning? Y/n did. And she had good reasons to. All her work seemed to finally bear fruit. Being an UN intern was going to propel her career in politics. She would actually learn how things work in the real world, outside classrooms and without textbooks. She would have the opportunity to travel and meet new experienced people. And right now she also had the perfect excuse to ditch her social plans, having to make sure all her extracurricular workload was sorted out. Being an incompetent TA was not an option, and not getting that internship was a scenario that y/n refused to conceive as a possibility.

As soon as she got to her dorm, y/n started to search the people on that piece of paper. Her gold tickect to the chocolate factory. She memorized their full names, academic backrounds, previous jobs, and their personal interests. She made some social media searches for that. Then, a draft for her interview was outlined based off of Mr Morris's tips. Serious but not boring, interesting but not fake, professional but still warm. An email notification made her stop typping. She clicked on the unread message and admired the positive response. Her eyes travelled through her desk. It was a mess. She was surrounded by heavy authors and heavier subjects. A pile of crinkled photocopies of ICJ cases, an open Krugman book with dozens of fluorescent post-its, a few flashcards with EU's legislative process. If her desk was a mess, it meant she was busy and working. That mess made her happy. Y/n looked back at the email and she thought to herself, I'm almost there, I'm going to change the world.

...

"Shit." The hot brown liquid spreaded through y/n's white oversized shirt. She tossed the paper cup in the bin and tried to keep the fabric from sticking to her skin. Her brallette was now visible through the wet shirt. As she walked to the small bathroom atached to the office, she mentally patted herself on the back for keeping an extra t-shirt in her bag.

The door to the office was closed and no one usually came at this time of day. She was safe to change. Y/n tried to remove the stain in the sink as much as she could. She then placed it on the back of the chair to dry. A thin light brown outline was still visible. She sighed in annoyance. That was her favourite shirt.

As she reached to her bag to grab the shirt, the sound of the door knob brought horror to her features. She quickly grabbed the piece of clothing and tried to hide her nude state behind the fabric. As the door opened, y/n could already imagine the chocked look on Mr Morris' face at her lack of clothing. She had a plausible excuse, of course, but it was still a very strange situation. She should have locked the door. Well, too late.

Her look of fear turned to a confused one as she stared at the man that entered the room. He paused, hand still grabbing the door knob, and stared back, as confused as her. They stayed like that for a couple minutes trying to make sense of the situation. Y/n grew annoyed at his lack of action. The door was still open for everyone to see her precarious state.

"Close the door!" He awakened from his trance and quickly shut the door, turnig his back to her. She took the opportunity to dress the clean t-shirt. As she pulled the fabric down her torso, she noticed him staring at her again. Y/n was becoming more and more irritated. She had been gradding tests for the past three hours, hadn't gotten any breaks, decided to get a coffe from the machine down the hall, spilled the drink on her favourite shirt and was now being checked out by some random man that would not say anything, not even an apology. He was about to confront a very grumpy side of y/n.

"Are you a student of professor Morris? Office hours are only on Mondays and Wednesdays. I do not have time to answer any questions today." She went to sit on the desk and continue her work, not bothering to look at him as she speaked.

"I was a student of his." The man approched the desk. "I came to visit him." Y/n continued to write notes with her red pen, avoiding eye contact. Her frustration still mixed with the embarassement from moments ago.

"Well, as you can see Mr Morris isn't here, and he won't be coming in today. You can schedule your visit using the contacts printed by door. I also recommend you to knock before meeting with the professor." Y/n added the last part, staring back at him. He stood tall with crossed arms and a hard gaze. She could see that he did not like the way he was being treated. Y/n wondered who this man really was. What if he was someone important? Someone close to Mr Morris? She realised maybe she should have approched him more carefully.

"I was not aware that TAs now felt so free to seduce their superiors. I'll make sure I knock next time, promise." Her annoyance became painfully obvious and the room grew even more tense. She got up from her chair and faced him fully. They were closer now. He hovered over her, angry gazes competing. Y/n noticed his deep green eyes and a single chocolate lock fell between them. That was annoying.

"I spilled coffee on my shirt, not that I owe you any explanations." She backed away slightly and straightened her posture. "I will not admit any insulting accusations about how I work. You don't know me." Y/n tried to calm herself down. She was grumpy and he was just provoking her. It was not worth her time, so she distanced herself from him. He did not say anything else. He only observed her as she checked the time on her phone. Its late, she thought, I'll finish this tomorrow.

"What? Time to get undressed in another professor's office?" Y/n shot him a death glare.

"You're an assh-" she was interrupted by the sound of the door knob. She immediately stoped talking as Mr Morris entered the room. The other man smirked at her, enjoying her big scared eyes.

"Y/n? What are you still doing here?" He noticed the piles of exams with red anotations here and there. "It's late. Please go home and rest. You can finish another time." Mr Morris gave her a reassuring smile. Y/n started to pack her things, happy that he hadn't heard her before. Bad language was a no go with the faculty, especially insults. It could damage her image as a TA.

"And I've seen you have already met Harry." They both exchanged awkward smiles. "Weren't supposed to..." Y/n gave a questioning look at the two men. Harry was now avoyding her eyes. She tried to ignore the whole situation and placed her bag in her shoulder, ready to leave.

"I'll see you next week. Get some sleep, y/n." Professor Morris waved her goodbye. Harry simply stood next to him, hands in his pockets, as he observed her closing the door.

...

Y/n sighed in relief as she closed her laptop. She had asked professor Morris if she could take the online interview in his office. Her small dorm didn't look very professional as a background. He allowed it, telling her to not worry to much. At this point, y/n felt like she could ask him to be her garantor and he would say yes. He was like the godfather she never had.

Y/n had a good feeling about the call. She got the interviewer she most wanted and she felt like they truly connected through their mutual interests. Plus, the tips on that golden piece of paper really came in handy. She would have to thank her professor for the millionth time. Now, all she had left to do was being a good TA, keep her grades high and trust that her capabilites would be good enough to grant her the spot she thought she was worthy of. Y/n thought some relax time was needed and well deserved. She pushed all her work aside, and texted her friends. That night she would be joining them.

[awkward-tension-art]

Puppet on a String Chp.9 (Fives x Reader)

Chapter 8. Chapter 10.

Surgery

CW: Fives x Reader, Reader is a medical practitioner, angst, swearing, Death mention, Running from authorities, Mentions of dead characters, Inhibitor chip arc, Nala Se being cruel, Shaak Ti trying her best, lying, surgery, Fives stuns reader but its consensual, AZ-3 being a cutie, Kissing

Tag List (Thank you guys!): @notgonnaedit @spicydonut25 @bimboshaggy @amazonian-bae @tentakelspektakel

Fives shifted, groaning on the surgical bed. 

You rushed to his side, looking over your lover as he woke. He took a deep breath and moved to sit up. However, you put your hands on his chest and kept him down, “Easy, take it slow.” you murmured softly, “Take a second to orient yourself.” 

The ARC trooper nodded, blinking open his eyes. However, once it registered that you were next to him, he sat up quickly, “Mesh’la!” Without another second to waste, his arms were around you tightly. 

“Hi, love.” you responded, returning his hug. You wanted to stay like this forever. Wrapped up in each other's warm embrace.

Sadly, however, Fives let you go. He raised a hand to feel the fresh scar from the surgery, “Was…was it there?”

You nodded, and AZ-3 hovered over to raise the tumor encased in bio-glass. Once you had it in your hands, you explained everything you knew to Fives, “Yours is identical in structure and location in the brain.” You said, “But…something went wrong with Tup’s. A genetic mutation, I think.”

Your lover nodded, following along. He shifted, getting to his feet with your help, “So that means his breakdown is…isolated?”

“I’m…not sure.” you admitted. You were about to say something else, but AZ-3 interrupted you. 

“Now that we have removed your chip, we do not know what will happen to you.” the surgical droid stated. 

“So then I could snap too?” Fives jerked his head up to look at the droid.

“It is a possibility.” 

You frowned, “We don’t know that.”

The ARC trooper beside you didn’t look convinced, “But when we removed the chip from Tup, he…”

Tup’s death still hurt

“I am afraid you may die as well.” Was AZ-3’s blunt response. 

That's when you chimed in again, “It’s unlucky,” your hand went to Fives, “But we can never know. So far you're stable and coherent. All good signs.” 

Your lover rubbed his face in his hands, getting himself together, “I need to know if more clones than just Tup and I have these and when we were implanted with them.” His tone was resolute and determined. 

AZ-3 chimed in, “My analysis suggests implantation took place at the earliest stage of development, most likely when you and Tup were only embryos.” the little droid hovered up and down as he explained.

“Then we have to start there.” Fives nodded, but before he could leave the surgical room, you squeezed his hand. 

“There’s one more thing. Shaak Ti knows that we’re investigating.” you informed him, “She wanted you to know not to panic if you see her, or if she finds us. She’s on our side.” 

He nodded, giving a relieved smile, “Good. Still, we should be careful. We don’t know who is on Nala Se’s side here.” 

With a peck on his lips and a nod, you exited the room first. Fives followed you, helmet on and rifle in hand. Behind the both of you, was AZ-3. The ever loyal droid apparently wanted to see this to the end. 

You knew where the embryos were located. They were growing in the Development Wing of Tipoca City. 

Getting there was easy. You passed through some near empty hallways, and AZ-3 was able to get you access to locked doors. 

The last door was a lecture hall. Cadets filled every seat and the silence indicated they were in the middle of an exam. 

“Oh, great…��� Fives sighed. 

“Just follow my lead.” You murmured, walking forward. You got the attention of the proctors overseeing the education of the cadets, “Ah, I don’t believe we’ve met.” you introduced yourself to them quietly, “Ethics Committee from the Grand Republic Medical Facility.” 

Your hand behind your back motioned for Fives and AZ-3 to get to the other side of the lecture hall.

“Ah yes, Doctor. We haven’t had the pleasure.” The Kaminoan on the left nodded to you, “The Ethics Committee usually doesn’t get involved with the education of the clones.” 

“Yes, well, a…pediatrician, Doctor Chalesia, back on Coruscant, was curious about the teaching plan.” You lied, feeling bad using one of your colleagues names for your own means, “I wanted to ask if you could send any notes or protocols to the committee.”

Behind the proctors, AZ-3 and Fives managed to get the door opened. Your lover looked back to you, and you nodded for him to keep going. 

“I would have to speak to Nala Se first, Doctor.” the Kaminoan responded, “If you want the teaching plan, you will have to ask her.” 

“Great! Understood. Thank you.” You gave a small, appreciative yet false smile, “Continue on with what you're doing.” Your steps were steady and collected through the lecture hall, doing your best to look natural and calm.

Once you were past the doors to the Embryo Development Hall, you breathed out in relief. Luckily, no one else except for Fives was inside. The room was spacious, with a gray metal ceiling and white tiles. Lined up neatly were massive machines, all holding tubes containing small, growing embryos inside.

The ARC trooper was already at one of the consoles connected to the unit containing the embryos. It hummed to life and twirled before lowering one of the tubes down to eye-level. The life inside was small, and by your estimation, was most likely a stage 1. 

AZ-3 was already processing the data when you got to his side, “I will now try a stage three embryo.” He stated, typing on the machine’s screen. It hummed again, before shifting and whirling around. After a second, and more hydraulics hissing, a large tube containing a fetus lowered to the console. 

There was a beep, and the screen lit up with a green light. 

“There it is.” your eyes widened. 

“Ah…try another.” The ARC trooper beside you commanded the droid. 

The process repeated, and just like the first, the second fetus lit up green. 

“Based on this data, I can calculate how many in this tree are altered.” AZ-3 was typing on the console again. You weren’t sure exactly what he did, but after his command, every single tube containing a stage 3 embryo lit up in the same blaring green light. 

That could only mean one thing…

“I can't believe it…” Fives breathed out.

Your eyes were wide, “They all have one.”

The door behind the two of you hissed open and the ARC trooper whirled around. His rifle was aimed and readied at the intruder, “Don’t move.”

Nala Se raised her long arms up to show she was unarmed, “Why are you doing this?” she asked, continuing to step towards you and Fives. 

“We know what you've done,” You answered, seething. 

The Kaminoan’s voice was flat as always, “What is it that you think I have done?” She got closer and once she stepped into range, your lover grabbed her.

“How do you explain this?” He growled, swinging Nala Se to stand in front of the console. His rifle was pointed up, right at her head.

“That is a structural inhibitor chip,” She responded, keeping her arms up, “which is supposed to prevent you from being aggressive, like your source, Jango Fett.”

“If it’s only supposed to suppress aggression, why hide it!?” You snapped, “Everyone who knew of its existence has been killed. Except for you, apparently.” 

“I can’t speak for why your colleagues have died,” Nala Se had her large eyes on you, “Jedi Master Syfo-Dias instructed us to implant them during your growth cycle.”

“The Jedi…?” Fives’ rifle was shaking slightly, “The Jedi had this done to us?” He sounded speechless. Even somewhat sad at such a revelation. 

The Jedi he served so loyally had tumors implanted in every clone?

But…Shaak Ti didn’t seem aware of the issue. Did she know?

“It is not uncommon to have inhibitors placed in a clone.” Nala Se said, looking back at Fives. 

You grabbed Tup’s sample and raised it to the Kaminoan scientist, “Well, this one had a mutation and failed.” you snapped, “Every single one of these tumors can do the same.”

“Up until this point, there has never been a problem.” The scientist continued to sound cold and detached. 

Fives huffed and hit Nala Se in the head with the barrel of his blaster, “Well, you have got a big problem now.”

Just as he spoke, the large doors opened again, Shaak Ti, along with several guards, sprinted inside, “Don't move!” She commanded, stopping just short of a few meters from you. Her lightsaber was pulled, and it burst to life, “Drop your weapon.”

“General Shaak Ti!” you were the one to explain first, “We know what's going on. We have evidence.”

At your words she calmed, lowering her lightsaber. She turned it off, killing the ray of energy. 

Met with her silence, you continued, “The Jedi instructed that inhibitor chips be implanted in the clones at birth, but Tup's malfunctioned,” Your words were hurried and panicked, hoping she’d believe you again. You were certain Fives having a gun pointed at the head scientist of Kamino wasn’t helping, but maybe she'll continue to be patient with you and listen, “That's what made him lose control.”

“Where is the evidence?” the General asked, eyes narrowed. 

“It’s right here.” you handed Tup’s sample back to AZ-3 and the droid hovered over to the Jedi. 

The little robot held up the sample so the togruta could see clearly, “As you can see, the chip taken from clone trooper Tup is black and necrotic, indicating a malfunction of some sort.”

Her lavender eyes roamed over the sample, “What caused the malfunction?” She then turned to you, looking for your expertise. 

“Most likely a genetic mutation.” You answered, “One we can’t possibly predict. It may happen again to another clone,” Your gaze was directly on the General, silently begging her to believe you, “These chips have to be removed, otherwise the entire Republic Army could be compromised.” 

“There is no proof of that. This is an isolated incident.” Nala Se snapped and for once, you thought you could hear panic, “Besides, when you removed trooper Tup's chip, he died.” 

Fives pushed the Kaminoan with his baster, “Well, that's not going to happen to the rest of us.” He snapped, “Because I removed mine.” 

“Here is clone trooper Fives' chip,” AZ-3 held up the second sample, bright pink and healthy, exactly the opposite of Tup’s, “As you can see, there is no sign of malfunction in either him or the chip.”

“And Fives doesn’t have any evidence of neurological symptoms.” You backed-up the surgical robot, “He’s entirely coherent. Still himself. Most likely removing the chip has no drawbacks.” 

Nala Se broke, and once again, you swear you recognized fear coming from her, “By removing your chip, you are a threat,” she turned from the ARC trooper to Shaak Ti, “Master Jedi, we must terminate this trooper immediately.”

Your lover's eyes widened, “I am not a piece of hardware!” he cried, and you could tell the stress had finally gotten to him, “I'm a living being!” He hit the Kaminoan with the blaster again. 

“You were created in our laboratories.” She retorted, glaring down at Fives like he was a pest, “You are Kaminoan property!”

“People aren’t property!” You seethed.

“The Doctor is correct.” The Jedi stepped forward, her words calming the situation instantly, “and he is a trooper of the Republic Army, he is not Kaminoan property.” She spat that last word like it was a vile swear. As if the very idea of calling a living being property sickened her. 

The head scientist addressed the General again, “That does not change the fact that he is a danger and must be terminated.”

Shaak Ti narrowed her eyes. She was unhappy at the very least. Infact, the togruta woman was on guard and tense, “I believe that's for me to decide.” She raised one hand and motioned for your lover to lower his gun, “Fives, you are coming with me to Coruscant. I think it's time you told your story to the Chancellor.”

You let out a relieved breath and smiled, looking at the ARC trooper. He shared your joy, brown eyes bright with both relief and happiness.

Of course, Nala Se argued, “Master Jedi, I beg you to reconsider!”

“The Chancellor wanted all the data on Tup to be sent to Coruscant.” the General stepped towards the both of you, she had a gentle hand on your shoulder, “We're sending the data, the tumor, and these two along with it.”

“Then I am going with you.” The Kaminoan stepped forward.

“No, Doctor Nala Se, that is unneeded.” Shaak Ti immediately shot her down. Before there was an argument, she spoke again, “We have one talented Doctor already.” Her hand squeezed your shoulder and she gave you a small grin, “You will remain here.”

“I can not allow that to happen.” 

“Why?” the togruta turned, facing her, “Is there something about these chips you know that we do not?” 

After a stretch of silence, Nala Se lowered her head, “No, Master Jedi. I am simply concerned about the operations here on Kamino. How this situation will affect us.” 

She’s lying. 

You knew she was lying, but you didn’t know how. So, you remained silent. 

When Shaak Ti turned, Fives spoke up finally, “Thank you for believing in us, General.”

She smirked and looked back, “I will tell you the same thing I told your mesh’la,” The Mando’a word sounded so natural from her lips, “It is not a matter of belief, It is simply the right thing to do.” At her words she faced forward, and began to walk away. 

You grabbed Fives hand, and leaned into him, smiling bright.

He laughed softly before raising a gloved hand to your cheek pulling you into a deep kiss.

[moonchildreads]

small town

Chapter 19 - We Built This City

IN THIS CHAPTER: Finals week, a friendly invitation, and the Hellfire Class of 86' takes a bow [7.6k]

WARNINGS: vague foreshadowing, mentions of fantasy violence? they play dnd, it's not real (again, taking the liberty of making them play 5e because i wasn't about to learn advanced dnd for this when i already play 5e)

A/N: whew! didn't think i'd ever get to finish this one lol. huge HUGE shout out to @gutterratt, who not only is a wonderful friend i was hugging and sharing the same air with just a few days ago, but also my dm (the best dm in the world, don't @ me). this chapter would have been impossible without your guidance, knowledge, and support. thank you for teaching me to dm through eddie. also shout out to brian murphy and NADDPOD for the inspiration for this chapter! check them out on spotify if you like dnd podcasts, they deserve all the love they get. onto the update!

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

We just want to dance here Someone stole the stage They call us irresponsible Write us off the page

Wednesday, May 28th - 1986

Finals week in Hawkins High was going pretty well or terribly wrong depending on who you asked. On Monday, freshman Cindy Jackson had come out of her Geography classroom sobbing, claiming that she had flunked the entire test and her GPA was going to fall drastically below average. Dustin and Mike had simply stepped around her in the hallway and headed to the parking lot to get their bikes without sparing a single thought for her. Eddie couldn’t believe how calm he felt whenever he sat down at his desk and a new test was placed in front of him. By the time Wednesday lunch period was upon them, he had already taken four of his six final exams, Dottie had taken five of her nine, and band practice had been suspended so everyone could study for tomorrow’s new round of tests, or in Eddie’s case, put the finishing touches to their upcoming D&D Friday session.

So far, their plan to stick to each other and not walk around the school alone like sitting ducks for the bullies had been working. Dottie only shared one class with Andy Humphrey, and it seemed that her threat to rat him out to their teacher had worked because no one in the basketball team had bothered them since then. At least, not any more than the usual jeers and disgusted glances they so often directed to her friends in Hellfire. Eddie had been keeping a low profile for the past couple of months, his entire thought process having been claimed by his ever growing crush on a certain short curly-haired girl; his frequent tirades in the cafeteria had been reduced to only one loud proclamation in the hallways every couple of weeks, and to be completely honest, no one cared about him or his unconventional opinions so close to the end of the school year, so him suddenly turning into a wallflower hadn’t really been noteworthy to his peers. Everyone just simply assumed that he was stressed about failing senior year for the third time in a row and left him alone to his devices.

When the group compared schedules on Monday and saw that Dottie was going to be headed to the same lecture as Andy three times that week, it was quickly decided that Donny would be her guardian since his Italian lessons were at the same time she’d be taking AP Spanish in the classroom opposite of his. Dustin and Mike were to be inseparable, and when they had different schedules, Mike was supposed to shadow Nancy as much as he could while Dustin stuck to Jeff on their way to the east wing for their respective classes. Eddie watched over Dottie like a hawk during their shared free periods, going so far as to stand outside the girls’ bathroom while she went about her private business in case any idiot got strange ideas about cornering her in a place where she was supposed to be safe. Ms. Kelly had looked very surprised to see all six boys waiting for Dottie to come out of their latest check-in session; it was strange to see how subdued they had all gotten in recent months and she knew it had everything to do with the sunshine girl that happily linked arms with the freshmen, Dustin excitedly skipping alongside her down the hallway while Mike dragged his feet next to them in protest.

It was, perhaps, that false sense of security that had her approaching the basketball team’s table after students had begun trickling out of the cafeteria, surely headed to their last classes of the day. Donny was supposed to safeguard her on their way to her second AP Spanish class of the week, but he had asked her to please wait for him near the teachers while he excused himself to the bathroom and promptly left her alone. When Dottie realized Andy wasn’t seated at the jock-filled table but one Lucas Sinclair was, she quickly forgot about her friends’ insistent requests to “lay low” until the school year was over and headed towards him without a second thought entering her mind. She stopped right in front of the freshman who eyed her curiously, brows raised in an unspoken question.

“Hi! You’re Lucas, right?” Dottie said, smiling brightly.

“Uh, yeah, I’m Lucas.”

“Nice to meet you! Would you mind giving these to Erica for me, please?” she extended her closed fist towards him and he instinctively held his palm open for her. Two pieces of shiny plastic hit his skin softly; he recognized them as part of his old dice set, the one he assumed had been gathering dust tucked away in his bedroom. “I must have accidentally taken them with me a couple of weeks ago - I would give them to her myself but I won’t see her until Friday and it’d suck if she bought a new set because she thought she lost these.”

“Yeah, that would really suck,” he chuckled uncomfortably, shifting in his seat knowing his new friends were watching the uncommon interaction unfold. “I’ll give them to her for you, don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you so much! Here, for your troubles,” she gave him a pack of Smarties as payment in kind. “See you around!”

“Thanks,” he managed to mutter before she bolted out of the room and into the hallway in search of Donny.

Lucas stared at the candy bag in his hand next to one d20 and one d4 that had belonged to him a couple of months before. They were black with gold numbers that he’d repainted himself with one of Will’s thinnest brushes, trying his hardest to cover the tacky white underneath. He hadn’t opened his D&D box in a while, the hard plastic container hidden away underneath his bed and pushed all the way back until it touched the wall. He’d yell at Erica for touching and stealing his things, but that would have meant admitting that he still cared about the part of him he’d been trying so hard to deny lately and he couldn’t allow himself to fail like that. Lucas was tired of being the bigger man; let his former friends apologize to him for once. Though, as days went on, he was starting to realize that maybe they would never come back at all.

“How do you know that chick?” asked Chance, one of his seniors.

“I don’t,” Lucas replied quickly. “I don’t have classes with her.”

“She’s a senior,” Patrick said. “I’m with her in English. She always sits with that Munson freak.”

“What does she want with you? Who’s Erica?”

“Erica, she’s my little sister. She wanted to return some dice to her, I think they are in a club together, I don’t know,” Lucas said, but he did know. He’d noticed Dottie sitting at lunch with his club members, he’d seen her wearing the same Hellfire shirt he owned, he’d heard Erica talk about her to their Mom. Lucas Sinclair knew exactly who Dorothy Burke was.

“Isn’t your sister like… eight?” Chance laughed.

“Eleven,” the freshman corrected him, but that seemed to peak Jason Carver, the basketball team’s captain’s attention.

“Your little sister is hanging out with those… freaks?” Jason asked, eyebrows bunching together.

“They play board games together, it’s so dumb-”

“She shouldn’t be around them, she’s just a kid. Who knows what they could do to her if… They aren’t good people, they- they could hurt her,” the captain said, tone stern.

“She’ll be fine, they’re just a bunch of nerds-”

“Lucas,” Jason insisted. “You’re a good friend and a good teammate to us. I’m sure you’re a good son to your parents too, but you have to be good to her as well. That’s your duty as her older brother.”

“Yeah, I-” he quickly put away the dice and Smarties in his pocket and nodded. “You’re right, I’ll talk to her about it.”

“You make sure you do that, okay? Take care of her,” the senior said, patting his shoulder in a friendly way and getting up. “Come on, guys, let’s go to class.”

Lucas walked behind his teammates until he reached his classroom and unassumingly disappeared from the group. He took his seat at the back and noticed Mike and Dustin sitting at the front, bickering with one another as usual. Bitterly, he recalled switching seats with the girl who now sat next to Dustin after Spring Break. Jason wasn’t being mean with his warning, he knew that. His captain had siblings too, he knew what being a big brother meant and he extended that same level of protectiveness towards his friends and younger members of the team. Lucas felt grateful that Jason, the current King of Hawkins High, was so willing to look out for not only him, but Erica too, if only because she was related to him. But when Mike snorted loudly at something Dustin had said, he couldn’t help but think that there weren’t people on Earth he would trust more to take care of Erica when he couldn’t watch her than Mike Wheeler and Dustin Henderson. And perhaps Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley too, but they didn’t have to know that, lest their egos got even bigger than they already were.

Friday, May 30th - 1986

The last day of finals week came towards them at neck breaking speed, causing Eddie and Dottie to stick to each other like velcro during the final three hours of the day. During third period, he’d had his Latin exam and she sat with him during every available second prior to it quizzing him on his vocab. After that, they both had had their Calc final, where they sat side by side suffering through it all together. He’d finished before her and quickly returned to his seat, noticing how her nerves seemed to be heightened every time someone got up and was granted permission to head to the cafeteria early. He slipped one of his rings off and slid it across the table until it bumped with her eraser; she smiled, thankful, and put it on her index finger to twirl with her left thumb while she concentrated on the numbers in front of her. After that came lunch and everyone was positively buzzing. Most of the student body had already finished all their exams and there was a sense of freedom in the air, a shared joy that couldn’t enter Dottie’s brain yet as she frantically reviewed her AP Spanish notes for her ninth final exam of the week. One look at her tired, wet eyes after someone had shouted a little bit too loud, and Eddie pulled her out of the room and into the back of his van where she could finally breathe and concentrate on reading her own writing before the bell rang.

After exams were finally over, Eddie headed to the woods to wait for Chrissy who had asked him if she could buy a rather unusual amount of weed considering her casual habits, and Dottie seeked refuge in The Weekly Streak’s newsroom until it was time for Hellfire to begin. She was helping Fred put together a mockup for a story he wanted to present to Nancy the next week when the editor-in-chief herself asked her if she wanted to go to the bathroom. Dottie, being well-versed in girl language, accepted without complaint and followed the blue-eyed girl into the nearest bathroom where she immediately began washing her hands in an attempt to hide the fact that she was so very much nervous about whatever she was about to say.

“Nance? Is everything okay?” Dottie asked, eyeing her carefully.

“Yeah- yes, everything’s okay. I just… I wanted you to know since you were the one that said I should just go for it so… I called Jonathan.”

“Oh,” she said, surprised that she was getting an update on the topic at all.

“We talked and he says he understands that I’m upset. We didn’t break up but we’re going to take a break, officially this time,” Nancy shut off the water tap and stepped to the side to wipe her hands dry with coarse paper towels.

“Well, how do you feel about that?”

“Good, I think. He says he has a job now, and he’ll go full-time for the summer after graduation so he might be able to save up some money to come see me,” she smiled, hope swimming behind her eyes.

“That’s great, Nancy!” Dottie said, giving a big hug to her friend. Nancy went stiff at first but after a second, she breathed out and hugged her back. “I’m so proud of you, I know that was probably a really hard conversation for you both.”

“It was but… I feel better now. I want to trust him again, and we agree that maybe this will help us get there.”

“So you’re still off the market then? Asking for a friend that’s totally not Fred,” Dottie joked, and Nancy let out a girly giggle that surprised the both of them.

“Off the market, and out of his league,” the editor-in-chief said, playfully stern.

“Oh my god, Nance!” she let out a loud snort that sent Nancy into a fit.

It felt good to laugh like this, to shoulder a silly burden together, to foster a new friendship and be vulnerable with one another. Growing up hadn’t been easy for either girl in wildly different ways, but the summer of ‘86 was right ahead of them and promised greener pastures if one could get the courage to take the first step outside. Nancy hadn’t let herself have a friend for so long. It had been easy with Jonathan - shared trauma bonds you like nothing else in the world after all - but it was undeniable that a part of her had died that day when Barb went missing. Even though Dottie wasn’t Barb, Nancy could feel like Nancy again right that moment, in that bathroom, hiding from their nosy journalist-aspiring colleagues and the junior that kept following her around like a lovesick puppy. She felt herself breathe a little bit easier almost a full year after the nightmare that still woke her up in the middle of night, prompting her to double check the guns she had stashed in the topmost part of her closet so her little sister Holly could never find them by accident.

The door to the bathroom opened and a group of cheerleaders came in, fussing over their makeup and hair before practice began. They were chatting excitedly about an upcoming party, and Nancy and Dottie moved aside to let them get access to the mirrors. They were about to leave when another girl pushed the door open in a frenzy; a slightly out of breath Chrissy Cunningham ran inside in haste.

“Where were you?!” shouted Melissa, rounding on her as soon as the door had slammed itself shut.

“I got held up by a teacher, calm down,” Chrissy lied seamlessly, but her glossy eyes were a dead giveaway to anyone that had spent any significant amount of time with the elder Hellfire members. “What are we talking about?”

“Your boyfriend’s party. What are you gonna wear?” Kathleen asked, putting away her lip gloss.

“Are we allowed to go?” Libby asked, eyes hopeful. Standing next to her was another junior tumbler, Valerie, who was downright pouting at their captain.

“Of course you are!” Chrissy said, taking full advantage of the fact that Jason would never complain about her inviting her younger cheerleader friends if she pouted at him a little. “Everyone is invited. Are you two coming too?”

It took a few milliseconds for Dottie to register that Chrissy was talking to Nancy and her, and she only realized because Nancy quickly put on a friendly smile and shook her head, a quick excuse on her lips.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry. I already told my Mom I would babysit my sister. It’s their date night and I’d hate it if they had to cancel,” she said, and Dottie knew she was lying because her eyebrows bunched upwards in the very familiar way they bunched whenever she lied to other people in the school’s newspaper about how great their ideas were.

“Aw, they still go on dates, that’s so cute,” Valerie said, ever the romantic.

“What about you, Dot? Are you coming?” Chrissy asked, ignoring the way her friends looked at her like she was inviting a rabid dog inside for dinner.

“Uh, I- I wasn’t aware there was gonna be a party.”

“It’s tomorrow night at my boyfriend’s house but I’m organizing it so it’s honestly my party,” she giggled, and Dottie swore she’d heard Gareth make that same sound whenever he was high. “We’re saying goodbye to senior year! I just told Eddie you were all invited, you should totally come.”

“You did what?” Melissa asked and Kathleen scoffed.

“It’s our last senior year party. All seniors can come,” Chrissy said in a tone that left no questions to be asked before she turned back to Dottie. “It’s gonna be really fun, we can probably convince Jason to let us play Queen at some point! Please think about it at least? For me?”

“Okay, I’ll- I’ll think about it. For you,” Dottie smiled, and Chrissy grinned.

“We should go now,” Nancy said, interrupting the awkward tension. “Lots of newspaper club things to do.”

“Oh, sure! We’ll see you around!”

Nancy guided Dottie out with a hand on her elbow; Chrissy and Valerie were the only ones that waved them goodbye. Just before the door closed, Melissa snarled “You invited the freaks? What’s wrong with you?” but they never heard what Chrissy replied. They made their way back to the newspaper club’s room in silence, each of them deep in their own thoughts. Nancy realized that she hadn’t been to a party since she’d broken up with Steve, her ex before she’d started dating Jonathan. Had it really been that long? It seemed like it had been ages since the last time Nancy tried to act like she was a normal teenager, like she didn’t need to keep a light on while she slept, scared of the shadows in the corner of her own bedroom. Like she didn’t have sleeping pills issued by a military doctor that she refused to take hidden inside a pair of old sneakers. Nancy would never be the same Nancy she was before November 8th, 1983, but she had to try.

“We should go,” she said, Dottie’s head snapping up from the papers in front of her. “To Chrissy’s party.”

“You wanna go?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“O-okay! I can ask my Dad to take us if you want,” Dottie offered.

“I drive, I can pick you up if you want.”

“Sure, if that’s better for you. Thank you!” the brown eyed girl smiled. “I actually haven’t been to any parties since senior year began.”

“We better make this one count then,” Nancy said, and went back to work with a timid but happy expression on her face.

Dottie tried really hard not to grin, but the thought of not only being invited to her first high school party in Hawkins, but also going with her newest friend and possibly her Hellfire gang made her impossibly giddy. Senior year had certainly sucked royal ass when it began, but it was definitely ending with a bang, not a whimper.

As Eddie ticked final after final on his list, he had allowed himself to think that he would be DMing his last session as the leader of the Hellfire Club that Friday. He had carefully crafted an emotional ending to the adventure they were currently on, and hoped his players would be on board to having a less action packed meeting than usual. They were, after all, not only saying goodbye to him as a leader, but also Jeff, Gareth, Donny, and Dottie. When classes started again in September, Mike and Dustin would be sophomores and the club would be in their hands, new sheep ready to be recruited walking down the hallways of Hawkins High.

The session had started, as usual, with a recap of the previous session's shenanigans. After finding out that their dead mutual friend Orfuel wasn’t, in fact, dead but instead trapped within Shadowfell, the party quickly realized what their next move was: to embark on a journey towards the Forest of Moonstone where Jeff’s character Tharivol had grown up and lived in, all in search for guidance and help of his elders. Orfuel’s partner in crime and girlfriend, Dedlock, had sacrificed him to Mask, the Lord of the Shadows, and was being kept in his divine realm inside Shadowfell - a castle known as the Shadow Keep. Dedlock wanted to rise above the ranks in the church of Mask, and this worthy act of manipulation was going to give her entry into the Circle of the Gray Ribbon, which is where his most loyal priests belonged.

The table was buzzing in excitement as they traveled through Eddie’s carefully crafted world in what would be their last time exploring it. They took their time on their way over to Moonstone, Eddie forcing them into lengthy conversations around a campfire, sharing stories about Orfuel and how they’d become such good friends with him that they were all willing to cross planes of existence to get him back in their lives. They attuned weapons and readied spells, and got a long rest in before the final challenge of the campaign finally arrived. Upon arrival to the Forest of Moonstone, they immediately seeked an audience with the druid that had taught Tharivol everything he knew. The slender elf advised them against their plan; they simply weren’t powerful enough to face the dangers of Shadowfell at this point in time. Instead, he proposed a different alternative.

The next steps were quite easy. They would wait until the new moon, which was, coincidentally, that same night. They’d hold a ritual to open a portal between the planes and bring back Orfuel from the terrible place he had been banished to. The eldest, most powerful cleric from the Circle, a halfling cleric named Portia, would guide them through the ritual, and they’d all have to contribute, each in their own time whenever Eddie prompted them to act. Between conversations and preparations, it was getting late, and so Eddie proposed a little bathroom break before the ritual began, which the boys accepted gratefully, cans of soda littering the table. Dottie inched her chair towards him, voice low like she was about to tell him a secret.

“So,” she began.

“So,” he said, curiosity piqued.

“I talked to Chrissy today and she invited me to a party.”

“Did she now?”

“Nancy and I are going.”

“Oh?” Eddie’s eyebrows rose. “Didn’t know you were interested in that.”

“I’m not but Nancy asked me to and I dunno, it could be fun. Our last senior year party,” Dottie said in a dramatic tone. “You’re going too, right? Chrissy said she invited you and the guys.”

“She did, but I-” he scratched his neck. “I’m gonna be honest with you, darling, I don’t really like those parties very much. I go to them, I sell a few ounces, and then we go to Jeff’s for a movie night.”

“But Chrissy wants us there, she said that all seniors should go. Please, Ed?” she pleaded, eyes rounded with weaponized innocence. “I like hanging out with Nancy but I’d feel so much better about going if I knew you were gonna be there too.”

Eddie sighed. I am so whipped for her and she knows it, he thought before turning to their other friends who were refilling the snack bowls while the freshmen got more sodas.

“Gentlemen!” he called, making Gareth, Jeff, and Donny look at him. “Princess here has a request.”

“What’s up?” Donny asked, sliding into his seat next to hers.

“Nancy and I are going to Chrissy’s party tomorrow night. I want you guys to go with us too,” she said, and the boys instantly laughed.

“Dot, we can’t go to Jason Carver’s house,” Gareth said between chuckles. “He hates us.”

“And also, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but no one invites the freaks to parties,” Jeff added.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. The party is at Carver’s house, yes, but-” Eddie put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a piece of scrap paper with girly writing on it. “-Chrissy Cunningham is planning it. We got an invite this time, fellow weirdos.”

“Chrissy invited you to her party?” Gareth asked in disbelief.

“I believe she invited us all.”

“She did,” Dottie said. “She told me she told Eddie to tell you we were all invited.”

“Those are too many uses of the verb to tell in one sentence,” Donny said, poking fun at her. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Okay, so, let me get this straight. Chrissy Cunningham, the Uncrowned Queen of Hawkins High, invited all of us to her party? And you’re actually going? With Nancy Wheeler of all people?” Gareth’s eyes were wide open.

“How much of a discount have you been giving her?” Jeff joked, implying something less illegal than simply selling her weed, but also dirtier was going on between them.

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie threw a ball of paper at his head. “She’s a friend, and she invited Dottie too. In person, not through me.”

“Yeah, Nancy and I ran into her in the bathroom and she told us to come.”

“What is it with girls and bathrooms?” Gareth looked at Donny, the only other one at the table who had sisters. He shrugged in response.

“So? Are we all going? If it sucks we can leave, but I just thought it’d be fun to, y’know, do something different for once,” Dottie said with a hopeful smile.

“Okay, I’m in,” Donny announced.

“Dude!” Jeff and Gareth looked at him like he had betrayed them.

“Oh, come on! It’s now or never, we’re never gonna see these assholes again after graduation. And you know those rich kids always have so much beer at their parties. Are you really gonna say no to free booze?”

“Okay, when you put it like that…,” Gareth conceded. “I’ll go if we all go.”

“Ditto,” said Jeff.

“Guess we’re going to Jason Carver’s house tomorrow night, boys,” Eddie said, reluctantly.

“It’s gonna be awesome, you’ll see,” said Dottie, right as Dustin, Mike, and Erica rejoined the group and settled for the next part of the adventure.

“If everyone’s ready,” Dustin looked around the table at his friends after a lengthy discussion. “-we go to the clearing.”

“You come into the clearing right before midnight and you see everyone sitting on the grass, making a big circle around a huge oak tree. This is where Tharivol’s Circle prays to Silvanus, The Oak Father, the God of Wild Nature. You can feel energy underneath your feet, coming up your legs and into your chest as you approach everyone else. This place is sacred, and the people here are willing to help you rescue your innocent friend. Do not take their kindness for granted,” Eddie narrated, solemn voice ringing through the tension in the room. “Portia is standing next to the base of the tree in beautiful, shiny robes, her long silver hair blowing in the breeze. She beckons you to come closer.”

“We go to her,” Erica said, firmly.

“The old halfling lady instructs you to sit at her feet where the tree’s roots come out of the dirt. She looks at her Circle and begins her speech,” Eddie held his head high as he embodied Portia with a mystic drawl. “Children of Silvanus. We are gathered here tonight to help our very own Tharivol and his allies restore order and balance to where chaos and injustice has spread. Pray with us. Let Silvanus help them return a lost friend home,” in his normal voice, Eddie continued. “Portia turns around and with her staff, she draws a line into the earth where the portal will appear, if, and only if you succeed.”

“Hang on, Portia is opening a portal?” Jeff said, holding in a chuckle.

“Portia the Portal Lady,” Dustin muttered, and Mike next to him snorted loudly.

“You’re killing the fuckin’ mood,” Gareth complained, kicking Jeff who sat opposite him.

“Moving on, please,” Erica rolled her eyes and motioned at Eddie to continue. He bowed his head in acknowledgement and carried on with his narration.

“Portia starts praying loudly in a language you don’t quite understand. At first, you think she might be praying in Elven but you quickly realize she’s praying in Sylvan, the language of the fey,” Eddie said, tense silence falling over the room once again. “Tharivol,” he looked at Jeff. “You recognize a few words and it sounds like she’s requesting access to a kingdom, to a place called Shadowfell. She’s asking the Raven Queen for help in rectifying a wrong that has happened within her realm. I want you all to tell me what you do to help Portia during the ritual.”

“What’s everyone else doing?” asked Jeff.

“They are still sitting in a circle while they pray.”

“I’m gonna pray to Silvanus too then.”

“Go ahead. Let me hear what you say to him.”

“Oh, Silvanus, God of Wild Nature, Old Father Tree,” Jeff began, in character as Tharivol with his head bowed, eyes closed and hands clasped above the table. “Orfuel saved my life once. Let me return the favor. Let me repay the kindness he showed me by righting what is wrong in his name. Let him come home to us. Let him live long and prosper.”

“Damn,” said Gareth under his breath. It was showtime at the Hellfire Club, and everyone was taking it seriously.

“I’m gonna pray to Moradin for assistance,” Erica said as Boldhild. “I’m gonna invoke my Oath, and say: Fight the Greater Evil. No Mercy for the Wicked. By Any Means Necessary. Retribution. I honor these values today, and tomorrow. In your name, Moradin, the All-Father.”

“I’ll pray too,” Dottie joined them as Holly. “I’m going to lay down my quarterstaff, my symbol of Lathander touching the earth, and I’m gonna call out to him for help like they did.”

“You can do better than that, darling,” Eddie crossed his fingers and rested his chin on them. “Show me how you commune with your god.”

“O-okay,” she said, attributing her nerves to the expectation of performing an impromptu prayer in front of everyone and definitely not because of the sultry voice Eddie was talking to her with. She bowed her head and began praying. “Lathander, I come to you as a child of the light to ask you for aid in a time of need. My siblings in arms are asking Silvanus and Moradin to come together and help, but I fear their calls might go unanswered. Morninglord, I beg of you, take pity on us. Take pity on Orfuel, who has been banished to the plane of shadows. Take pity on those who cannot walk in your light like we do every new dawn, and please let us be joyous when the morning comes.”

There was the sense in the room that this wasn’t just a regular end of a campaign. They could feel it in the way Eddie had guided the session so far: minimal combat, heavy on the roleplay, distinctively interested in character growth. He was gearing up to something, and from the looks of it, it was going to be something big. With the understanding of a party that trusts their DM to bring a satisfying story to life, they gave themselves to him freely and wholeheartedly. This wasn’t just the end of an adventure. This was the end of Eddie’s reign as the leader of the Hellfire Club and he deserved a proper farewell.

“I-,” said Mike, gearing up to join his friends in the ritual as Mozikith. “I don’t think I can pray to Asmodeus for help, I mean… Doesn’t really feel right. So I’m gonna give Silvanus an offering instead.”

“What kind of offering do you wish to give him?” asked Eddie.

“Uh, a blood offering? My own blood.”

“No!” cried Jeff. “Offerings to Silvanus can’t be blood sacrifices. You have to destroy something made out of wood or wooden materials and bury it.”

“Okay, well, uh- Do I even own something made out of wood?” Mike wondered aloud as he looked down at his inventory notes.

“You have your staff,” Dustin suggested in a sheepish tone.

“Can… Can I break my staff and still keep my arcane stone?” he looked at his DM.

“I’ll allow it but you can’t cast spells simply holding the stone. You either get a new staff or do something with it, like put it inside a locket,” warned Eddie.

“It’s fine. I won’t need it anymore anyways,” Mike reasoned. “I’m gonna break my staff in two and bury it under where the portal is supposed to be created.”

“Me too,” said Gareth, making Despair join the sacrifice. “I’m gonna add my javelins to his pile.”

“How many?”

“All four of them.”

“Very well,” Eddie smiled. “Anyone else has something they’d like to add?”

“I want to offer something to the Raven Queen in exchange for her to let us through,” said Dustin as Seebo.

“Oh?”

“She collects trinkets, right?”

“That she does, Seebo. What do you have to offer to her?” Eddie leaned forward. “It has to be something interesting, remember, she doesn’t exactly care too much about cheap junk.”

“I want to offer her my father’s ring.”

A few sharp gasps could be heard as Dustin held Eddie’s eyes as if he was challenging him to say no. Everyone at the table knew what that ring meant to Dustin’s character. The heavy brass ring was all he had to remember his parents by after a war had left him and his ten younger siblings as orphans, begging on the streets for a small mercy until Orfuel taught him to run petty scams and pickpocket. At first he’d been reluctant but he had ten mouths to feed and couldn’t afford to pity those who had so much more than he did. Dustin placed a tacky ring he’d gotten at a yard sale in the middle of the table. Trust him to always keep props on his body for D&D related purposes.

“Okay, I’ll take it. Let’s see if she does too,” Eddie accepted his token.

“I’ll offer her a memory,” added Donny as Odorr. “I know she collects those too.”

“Which memory are you offering to the Raven Queen, dearest Odorr?”

“I want to give to her the night I burned down my village. That’s why I was a hermit until Orfuel found me,” he turned to the table to explain. “I was exiled as a kid because I couldn’t control my Wild Magic and set a barn on fire. It spread to the rest of the village so they said I was a danger and casted me out.”

“Shit,” Erica said, impressed that he’d kept his origin secret for so long. “Did you kill someone or what?”

“No, but I hurt a lot of people. It’s in the past now.”

“I’m sorry you went through that,” Dottie told him sincerely. Odorr had been her first friend on the campaign, and she cared for him like he was a real person. Donny squeezed her hand as a thank you.

“Okay, are we ready to proceed? Good. Since everyone has played their part in the ritual, I’ll explain how this is going to work,” Eddie brought them back to the game. “I’m gonna ask Tharivol to make an Arcana check, with advantage. To that you’re gonna add 1d6 of Inspiration for each member of your party, so that’s 6d6.”

“Can I roll Religion instead of Arcana? Since I’m praying to Silvanus,” Jeff bargained.

“Sure. Roll in front of everyone.”

Jeff grabbed 2d20 and breathed deeply, calming his nerves. He shook the dice in his hands, letting them fall to the tabletop, the two green and gold flecked pieces of plastic glinting in the moody lighting Eddie had set for the evening.

“18 and 19,” he announced.

“I’m guessing we’re starting with 19. Mozikith, if you will,” Eddie prompted Mike to start the inspiration dice rolls.

“Wait!” Dottie interrupted. “I want to cast Guidance on Tharivol.”

“Remind me again what that does, princess?”

“You touch one willing creature. Once before the spell ends, the target can roll a d4 and add the number rolled to one ability check of its choice. It can roll the die before or after making the ability check. The spell then ends,” she read with a smile. “You told me the other day that I always use the same two cantrips so I’m using a new one today.”

“I need to stop teaching you things if you’re gonna use them against me,” Eddie grumbled, but deep down was proud that she listened to his advice so intently. “Fine, Tharivol, add a d4.”

“Thank you,” Jeff said to Dottie and rolled. “2.”

“We’re at 21. Mozikith, please.”

“Shit,” Mike said. “That’s a 2.”

“We’re at 23. Seebo, your turn.”

“Fuck. Sorry guys, that’s gonna be a one,” Dustin mumbled angrily.

“Tough start. We’re at 24. Boldhild?”

“Four!” Erica cheered.

“We go up to 28! Despair, you go.”

“Please, please, please,” Gareth whispered. “SIX!”

“34! Odorr’s turn now.”

“Fuck yeah! That’s a six!” Donny punched the air excitedly. Everyone started becoming antsy but hopeful.

“We’re at 38. Holly, please.”

“Four?” Dottie said, timidly.

“That brings us to 42. Everyone in the clearing starts humming as Portia continues praying. Seebo, the ring in your hand begins burning until you can’t stand the heat anymore and drop it. It sinks into the earth beneath you as a gash appears where the line in the dirt was drawn,” Eddie began describing, his players waiting with bated breaths for confirmation of their success. “Tharivol, you feel a surge of magic from deep inside you, like a gentle warmth crawling up from your feet all the way up and into your chest. You see the oak tree begins glowing in the moonlight.”

“Holy shit,” Jeff said.

“The ground beneath you begins to shake and suddenly, Odorr, you feel a piercing pain in your head, like a needle pushing right in the middle of your forehead between your tiny horns. You fall to your knees in agony and see that the gash begins opening more, revealing fog on the other side.

“It’s working!” Dustin cried, and Mike shushed him immediately.

“Holly, you see your Lathander holy symbols begin to shine. First, it’s the one attached to your staff. Then, your armlet. It feels warm, like sunshine seeping into your skin on a cool day. The gash keeps opening and opening until it becomes a shadowy circle right in front of you. The pain in Odorr’s head stops,” Eddie said theatrically, making a pause for dramatic effect. “The DC you had to beat… was 40.”

“WE DID IT!” Erica screeched, and everyone began yelling at the same time.

“You almost gave me a heart attack, you piece of shit!” Donny yelled.

“Fuck, that was close,” moaned Dustin, bracing himself against the table, tension finally leaving his body.

“Congratulations, adventurers. You’ve just opened a portal to Shadowfell,” Eddie laughed, throwing his head back.

“Do we go in now? How does this work?” Dottie asked, wanting to continue the story.

“You have to speak the name of a creature and they’ll be sucked in through the portal towards your plane.”

“What was Orfuel’s last name?” Gareth looked at Jeff.

“Evensorrow,” said Mike.

“We call for Orfuel Evensorrow to come back to the material plane,” Jeff said, back in action.

“You see a shadow moving behind the fog, it seems like it’s fighting back the tendrils. Call out to him again, all of you,” Eddie instructed.

“Orfuel! Orfuel!” everyone began chanting. “Orfuel, it’s us! Stop fighting back!”

“The creature becomes prone when it hears your voices and lets itself be dragged into the material plane. A dirty human man lays at your feet, gasping for air after the shadowy vines retreat. Portia loses strength and the portal closes itself, severing the connection to Shadowfell.”

“I catch her before she falls,” Mike said quickly.

“Thank you, dearie,” Eddie said in a pitiful voice that belonged to an old frail lady. He continued in his normal voice. “Portia is okay, she just needs to rest.”

“We go to help Orfuel then,” Gareth looked at his friends, who nodded in agreement.

“Orfuel is a shell of the man you all used to know. His hair is long and matted, his beard is graying at the edges. He has dark circles under his eyes and looks like he hasn’t had a drink of water in days. He tries to speak, but his voice doesn’t come out.”

“I give him my water bottle,” Erica said.

“He drinks half of your waterskin in a rush and now that he feels better he looks at everyone surrounding him with fearful eyes,” Eddie began trembling, like it took a toll on his body to even utter a single syllable. “He’s coming. We have to- we have to hide. He’s coming.”

“Mask’s coming?” Donny asked.

“Mask’s just a pawn,” Eddie scoffed. “Orcus is coming.”

“Who’s Orcus?” Dottie looked around the table.

“The Lord of the Undead,” Dustin said, wary. “He’s the master of the undead that live in The Abyss. He wants to exterminate all life on every plane of existence until only his undead soldiers remain.”

“Wait, what do you mean Orcus is coming?” Erica asked Eddie, but really, it was Boldhild asking Orfuel.

“Mask knows Orcus hates the Raven Queen, so they made a deal. Mask kills the Raven Queen, and he becomes the keeper of Shadowfell for Orcus. Dedlock gave me up as a sacrifice to grow Mask’s power.”

“Shit. What do we do now?” Donny asked everyone else in the room.

“We fight back,” Dustin said, like it was obvious. “First we go for Dedlock and the Circle of the Gray Ribbon. Then we go for Mask.”

“And then…,” Mike mused. “We go into The Abyss.”

“And that’s where we’ll end our session,” Eddie said, and everyone groaned in protest.

“What the fuck, man?!”

“You said this session was the last one!”

“That’s such a non-ending, what is wrong with you?”

Eddie laughed and looked at his friends who kept begging him for more. More stories, more adventures, more guidance. They weren’t asking for entertainment. They were looking for more friendship. He moved to lower down his DM screen and hauled his prop box onto the table. Everyone stared at him curiously, wondering what trick he was gonna pull out of his metaphorical hat next. He simply reached in and grabbed two pins, putting them on the table: one said Chapter Leader, and the other said Dungeon Master. He’d had the first one for three years, and the second one for longer. He looked up at his club members with shiny eyes, and Dottie thought he’d never looked more at peace than in that moment.

“As you all know, my beloved sheep, I’m hoping I finally get to graduate this year. I don’t know if I am just yet, but in any case, this is my last session as Hellfire’s very own DM and leader. There’s more story to tell in this campaign, but I won’t be doing it here, on this throne, in this props room that always smells a little bit like glue,” he smiled when everyone huffed in agreement. “We’re going to take a break from this adventure until Dustin comes back from his nerd camp for geniuses-”

“Hey!” Dustin protested, but he looked proudly at Eddie while he did it.

“If you still want to find out what happens next after all that, I’ll be more than pleased to keep the action going outside of school grounds. But! A king shouldn’t rule over their kingdom forever, and it’s time for me to pass the crown onto the next generation. Wheeler, Henderson, please,” he motioned to the side. The freshmen followed him a few steps away from the table where Eddie dropped to one knee and bowed regally. “Michael Wheeler, you are Hellfire’s new Dungeon Master. I trust that the tales you tell will always be as grand as Mike the Magnificent was under my reign.”

“Woah,” Mike said when Eddie presented the Dungeon Master pin to him. “Eddie, this is- thanks, man.”

“Dustin Henderson,” Eddie continued, looking into the hopeful eyes of the kid he so very much admired. “The crown is too heavy for one man to wear alone, so I am choosing you to be the next Chapter Leader of the Hellfire Club. May you be as brave as Dustin the Daring was when he was under my wing.”

“I-” Dustin managed to get out before he launched himself across the floor and tackled Eddie into a tight hug.

“I won’t disappoint you, Eddie, I swear to god-”

But there was no need for him to promise anything, because Eddie knew that Hellfire was in safe hands with the two boys that had gone from looking at him like he was their Lord and Savior to simply calling him a friend. And as Eddie said goodbye to his time in high school, he was so grateful that even if he hadn’t learned a single thing valuable within those walls, he had come out of it with a group of people that he could always count on when life got too rough to handle on his own.

taglist (comment below or shoot me a dm if you want to be added!): @munsonology @kurdtbean