#the light of my computer glowing blue in the corner

[pl4n]

clouds

[serawritesthings]

SPELLBOUND

Pairing | Legolas x Reader Summary | Your bittersweet love will surely endure until the last of your days. Word Count | 1.1k A/N | Hello lovelies! Ever since I was young, my love for Tolkien has been my greatest inspiration when it came to writing and world-building. But, also all the fantastic writers out there that had me plastered to my computer at 4 in the morning, staying up all night reading wonderfully written stories about all the characters. So, because of this, I am taking a tiiiiiiny step into the community with this short story, hoping some of you will enjoy it. If you do, I'll happily write some more, and if you have an idea you would like me to write, feel free to send me a message!

“Our love cannot be.” 

Her words had echoed in his mind since the moment they left her blushed lips, at first only mindless words lingering in his mind as he stared thoughtlessly, then excessively nagging at him with every chance. Obsessively and utterly spellbound, he could only stare into your teary eyes that never hid from him, taking your trembling lips to his longing ones in a silent protest and carefully surrendering to the prospect of a love that might be possible if you loved hard enough. 

How naive you were, for you said the words too late. What good did it bring to only now speak of what you should have said a long time ago?  Perhaps it could be a testament to yourself that you at least tried to cease what you had, however weak the attempt might have been. Furthermore, you might have wished for him to be stronger than you, more sensible–but perhaps you were too alike in that sense.

“How can you say those words when you already know how my heart longs for you?” You could only close your eyes as he spoke, words dripping like honey over your troubled mind. Momentarily, you bathed in the golden glow, feeling the tenderness soothe the aches and hurt. How could you give him an answer that wouldn’t cause pain when his very words pierced you so–when his care for you extended further than you could have ever expected?

Devastated by the uncertainty that clouded your mind, shaking fingers jerked away from their hold on the silk that covered his forearms. You gasped when his hands didn’t hesitate to grasp yours, placing your palms against his heart that thumped heavily beneath the layers of fabric. 

“Do you feel that?” He spoke softly, leaning his head down to try and meet your avoidant eyes as his other hand found your cheek. “It does not beat like this for anyone but you.”

Unshed tears gathered in the corner of your eyes at his confession, overwhelmed by the idea of being loved by someone who would surpass the short time you had yet to live. Time was a cruel hand, one you couldn’t help but fear deeply, for he, bound to centuries, had a timeless plight while you were made to fade in the fleeting light.

“Our love is naught but a flame caught between two winds,” you say in sorrow, eyes closed to spare yourself the guilt you would feel if you gazed into his sky-blue eyes, the usual vibrancy muted–as if the stars that danced within them had momentarily dimmed. “It’s fragile and fleeting, how will it last?”

“Have I not pledged my heart to you?” Legolas implored, his words dulled with sorrow at the distress residing in your eyes. “Have I not deserved to relish in the warmth you bring me?” 

“Legolas…” He heard you whisper, a gentle plea that fell on deaf ears as he drew you closer, meeting your lips in a longing kiss. In a stolen breath, he reveled in the taste as his forever gentle hands cradled your face, fingers tracing the delicate contours as if to etch it into memory–into the fabric of his immortal being. 

With each passing heartbeat, the glade witnessed two souls so desperate yet unsure, and as it held its breath, the air shimmered around them in the quiet night. Like a silent whisper on your skin, his fingers lighted a path like fire as they caressed, refusing to let you pull away. Oh, how you wanted to. Yet, your heart clamped something so fiercely when the thought passed through your mind, the feeling not far from making you double over in anguish from having to be apart. 

The desperation in his embrace pulled at your heartstrings, urging you to cast away the dark thoughts that rained over you endlessly and lose yourself in his arms that wound their way around you–shielding you from hesitation and fear.

Yet tentative, your response wasn’t passive; fingers seeking refuge in the strands of his silken hair, and with each strand that slipped through your touch, only felt all the more consumed.

“You say it can’t be, yet why can’t my body stop aching for your touch even though you are right here, already in my arms?” His voice was a soft murmur in the night, lips parting for only a moment when speaking to find yours, then again, refusing to let you protest. “Mortal you may be, yet my heart yearning does not know the confines of time.”

Your gaze softened by his sincerity, voiced by her uncertainty. “I can not help but worry about what happens when my time passes. What aching memories will it leave you with…” You trailed off as the thought crossed your mind, but as you felt Legolas brush a strand of hair away from your tear-stained cheek, a soft determination shone through his glossy eyes. 

“Then surely I will pass, for I couldn’t bear to spend the rest of my life in a world where I can not gaze upon the wonders of your spirit that light up the darkest corners of my soul.” Yet melancholy, the words rang true as his voice had a slight undertone of acceptance that confused you. 

He knew that when the burden of your parting would become too heavy, he would transcend the sorrow that bound him to this earthy realm and leave all behind in hopes of once more feeling your touch on his graying skin. He came to welcome the idea a long time ago. Yet, the sadness in your eyes hurt him terribly, and his mind didn’t know how to lessen your anguish and recover the gleam that continuously resided deep within them, at times almost bursting with wonder.

“Why do you speak so indifferently? The thought does nothing but pains me something so fiercely.” He only gave you a soft smile in return, grasping your cheeks between his palms, thumbs tenderly caressing the soft skin underneath it.

“Can you not see, my love?” Placing his forehead against yours, his eyes pierced yours warmly, reassuring you that he only spoke of the truth. “In the realm beyond, we will once more find the embrace of one another, and I will continue to love you as I do now."

“Fret not, meleth nín.” Placing a tender kiss on your teary cheek, he whispered in your ear, bringing your head to rest wearily in the crook of his neck. “For you shall have me for the remaining part of your days, and when your departure becomes a burden too heavy to bear, I shall find you amidst the stars.”

[0bticeo]

jonathan sims | get some rest (tomorrow is already here)

summary:

“what do you propose?”

you take in a sharp inhale. you should leave. drag him away from his desk. but jonathan sims is a stubborn man, so he must be coaxed into doing so. 

“a massage.”

"a what?"

wc: 2.5k

tw: massage, making out, reader being a horny mess, jon being exhausted and a cranky bastard, hinted at elias' voyeuristic tendencies, usual tma ominous feelings, fluff (shocking, i know)

the analog clock reads 3:27, stark red embedded upon your retina. you sigh, fingers rubbing at the back of your neck as you step into the archives, weary bones aching.

it’s not your fault if you fell asleep in a secluded corner of the archives departement, squeezed between two shelves and piles upon piles of unlabeled statements. scratch that: they’re labeled. chronologically.

they do not make sense, however, because jonathan sims’ predecessor - whose name you curse with every breath and sleepless night you spend organizing her damn mess - left the whole department in such a state of disarray you might spend the rest of your life making sense of it. damn her. and damn your boss for being so uptight about it all.

you feel the weight of the institute, a looming force of knowledge pressed at the back of your neck, sweet pinprick of pain. you’re watched. oh, orwell, how right you were.

you make your way towards your desk, stepping over sasha’s pink slippers and picking up an empty mug. grab your keys, get out, and walk home. you’re not too far away from the institute. no trouble.

as you lean forward, palm pressed flat against a manila file, something catches your eye.

light. 

thin rays of it crawl, seep out from under the wooden door of the head archivist’s office, stark golden in dull gray penumbra.

he’s there, jonathan sims, head archivist of the magnus institute. holed up in his office, recording a statement, voice poised and measured and controlled in every way he isn’t upon being confronted with his poor sleeping schedule. 

you should leave.

you hear the soft click of a tape recorder being stopped. a long, deep-suffering sigh. a drawer opening, more muttering, some shuffling, rustling papers - oh no he won’t.

in three decisive steps, you’re before his door, your sharp knocking rinnging like gunfire in the quiet of the office. 

“who-who’s there?”

unease. suspicion.

you’re quick to answer with a long suffering sigh of your own, forehead pressed against the door.

“it’s me, jon.”

a pause. an exasperated sigh.

“what do you want?"

you take it as your cue to step inside his office, dimly lit by a lone desk lamp, dust particles turning midas-gold under its rays. your foot catches on a discarded paper - another statement, this one regarding a gambling fool of a soldier. 

(he who tries to cheat death gets the fruit of his labor and weeps upon tasting it.)

you pick it up, and let your gaze roam about the place.

a cork board takes up the majority of a wall, red strings twisting and turning in a web of confusion.

bookshelves align themselves in neat rows, cramped against one another, overflowing with statements, indigestions of facts made up and real.

a cluttered desk - a switched off tape recorder, manila folders, an open computer casting its blue glow upon the sharp edge of jon’s face.

he’s glaring at you.

“have you grown deaf since the last time i saw you?”

you let out an amused breath and make a move to put the statement on his desk. finding an uncluttered space is harder than it proves to be.

jon all but snatches the damn paper from your grip. if looks could kill, you’d be in bad shape. you lean back, arms crossed over your chest, hip pressed against the edge of his desk.

“no, merely mute with shock upon your wretched appearance.” you smile, teasing edges fading into concern. “seriously, when was the last time you slept?”

“that does not concern you-”

“it does, actually. you’re my boss. i can’t let you waste away, who would pay me otherwise?”

“elias pays all of us-”

“and he probably would have me promoted as a glorified secretary if you were to overwork yourself to death. i hate accountance, jon.”

he pinches his nose with long, deft fingers, glasses riding up ever so slightly. they reveal the deep circles under his eyes, embedded in his olive skin. you can practically see the tension oozing from him, the knots in his shoulders.

“if you’re determined to waste my time-”

“i came to help, actually.”

he raises a quizzical eyebrow, the living embodiment of judgment.

you feel his gaze rake your form, the own dark circles under your eyes, the crumpled shirt, the dust that clings to your skirt, what he’s sure is the imprint of the shelf you fell asleep against on your cheek.

you raise your hands in mock surrender. (you miss the way his gaze softens a little.)

“you’re exhausted. hell, i can feel your nervous energy from here.”

he opens his mouth, frowning, protest ready on his tongue. you cut him, merciless.

“when was the last time you’ve gotten more than three hours of sleep?”

that shuts him up. his frown deepens. you want to smooth out the wrinkles on his forehead.

“that - look, if you have nothing better to do than pester me-”

“it’s three in the morning and we’re the only living souls in this institute.”

maybe. you don’t really want to know what lies in the tunnels. or in the artifact storage. or what’s watching you.

“you’re not going to sleep at all at this rate - no, i know you’re not, because i know you. kinda.”

he sighs, exhaustion crawling out of his very marrow, and leans back in his chair. you take in the wrinkles in his shirt, now exposed because lo and behold, jonathan sims’ jacket is not sewn to his body and - 

and he’s loosening his tie, two fingers digging in his windsor knot, smooth silk gliding away under skilled fingers. you wonder what they might feel like slipping under your shirt.

“what do you propose?”

you take in a sharp inhale. you should leave. drag him away from his desk and into bed. but jonathan sims is the living embodiment of stubborness, so he must be coaxed into doing so.

“a massage.”

“a- a what?”

you laugh a little.

“don’t pretend your neck isn’t stiffer than the stick up your ass.”

“i do not have-”

“jon, please let me help.”

silence. again, he pinches the bridge of his nose. at least, he’s considering it.

you eye the piles of statements on his desk, half-discarded, half-classified. there’s a pattern in the way jon operates, even if he’s not conscious of it.

he only ever calls for your help when he’s sure the statements at hand are lelgitimate. this means he rules out those he deems written by lunatics and madmen. this means he does most of the work. this means-

“all right. but under one condition."

you tilt your head to the side, curious.

“one last statement.”

“only if i massage you while you record it.”

a glare.

“we’re wasting time, jon.”

“fine. get over here.”

you smile, palms smoothing out the pleats of your skirt as you make your way behind his desk.

he pays you no mind, long fingers selecting a manila file from a pile, opening it with care. there’s a certain stiff grace with which he carries himself, you muse as you step behind him. 

you watch the ripples of tension in the back of his neck, the fine strands of auburn hair tainted penumbra-dark brushing against his nape, and gently run your knuckle against his skin. he’s warm.

“whenever you’re ready,” you breathe, fingers resting on the back of his chair.

he coughs a little. composes himself. hits record.

“continued statement of trevor herbert regarding their latter years as a vampire hunter. original statement given july 10th 2010, audio recording by jonathan sims, head archivist of the magnus institute.”

you watch with fascination as the calm, composed, formal voice slips into something… else. something between jonathan sims and trevor herbert, and it’s fascinating, because for a brief second, split second instant of Knowing, you can See him, the tramp and his collapsing lungs, writing away his youth and hunts on bland institute paper.

you blink and it’s gone. 

there’s only you, the “lofi charm” of the tape recorder, and jon. his nape is bare. intimate knowledge settles in your mind, the fragility of mortality. bury a sharp needle there and his body collapses. 

you frown. push it back. roll up your sleeves and rub your hands together, warming them up because they’re always cold, and the least you can do is give him a modicum of comfort.

slowly, carefully, you put your hands over his shoulders. he tenses at that, briefly, until you start rubbing away the years of tension gnawing at him.

slowly, surely, you knead poor, exhausted muscles. slowly, surely, he relaxes under your touch, head leaning back ever so slightly.

from this close, you can smell him, you realize. cold coffee, dusty paper, cedarwood aftershave and something like a hint of sweat. 

“good?” you whisper, almost silent, voice lost in the quiet static of the tape recorder, in the dust-soft penumbra.

he nods, cheek brushing your wrist. your heart hammers in your chest. a strand of hair brushes the back of your hand - they’re graying a little. you wonder why he exhausts himself so. why he spends nights buried in his office, burrowing himself in piles and piles of files. 

hypocrite.

the only reason as to why you’re here, massaging your fucking boss and growing desperately wet at his deep sighs of content, is because you, too, spend much more time than reasonable trying to make sense of it all. 

the only reason as to why you’re here, taking in the gentle mess that is jonathan sims, is because you both leave at ungodly hours. because he can keep his eyes on you and so he knows that you cannot be responsible for gertrude’s murder.

you think he might trust you.

his hand settles over yours, and you startle.

he’s warm, palm large enough to cover the entirety of your hand, from wrist to fingertips. you don’t know what to do with this knowledge.

you don’t want to think of what you might do in the quiet death of the night, your hand slipping under your covers, down the apex of your thigh-

he slides your hand lower. oh. oh. 

you lean forward, until your cheek brushes his, skin on skin, and unbutton the first two buttons of his shirt. you think he might be leaning into your touch. you think you might cut yourself on the edge of his jaw, on the sharpness of his words. 

your hands meet his bare skin and you feel like you’ve caught fire, breath stolen away as you feel him in a way the cotton of his shirt didn’t allow. there is a sharpness to him. you can feel his jutting clavicles under your fingertips, sharp angel wings of bone, and your heart tightens. 

he works too much.

it’s quiet, for a while.

you don’t know what sets it off. one moment, you’re massaging him, relishing in the feeling of his skin under your hands. the next, your fingers catch a particularly tight spot in his shoulders and he groans , and fuck, you should not feel familiar heat curling in your lower belly but you do. 

you should stop. bid him good night and leave him with his precious recording. 

you don’t. 

instead, you rub at that spot, tentatively, and watch as he bites his lip mid-sentence, voice catching on a word. he’s a little breathless.

you are, too, heart hammering in your ribcage, hummingbird trying to flee its bones.

his hand wraps around your wrist and tugs you forward, free hand settling on your lower back, guiding you until you’re in his lap, looking up at him.

you think you might be dying of a heart attack with the way he looks at you, with eyes so dark you can barely make out the beautiful green of them.

“just what do you think you’re doing?” he growls.

you feel like you're on fire with how close you are. how his hand still encases your wrist in an iron hold. how you can feel warmth of him. how you can see the fluttering pulse of his throat, adam apple bobbing up and down as he swallows and fuck you want to take a bite.

your mouth feels dry.

“i- i don’t-” 

his grip tightens on your wrist. 

“answer me.”

somehow you’re closer. close enough to feel his breath on your lips, to find yourself staring up at him through hooded eyes, to find him staring back with parted lips. 

whatever’s left of your resolve dissolves into a puddle of desire. 

“jon, please, let me kiss you.”

a pause. the faintest glint of disbelief in his eyes.

then his lips crash on yours. 

you startle, hand shooting forward to grasp the nearest thing for purchase and find only him, him and the crisp cotton of his shirt, all exhaustion and boiling frustration.

he puts his mouth to you like one would to a lover’s and kisses you slowly, deeply, unraveling you like a beloved mystery. 

your body sings for him, and it’s so right you dismiss the ever-present pinprick pressure at the back of your neck. 

his palm cups it, your nape, warmth consuming that pinprick pain, until the only thing you can do is sigh in his mouth and press yourself closer.

his lips part from yours, briefly, a breath away, and it’s too damn far, so you tug at his cravat and pull him down. your fingers dig in his shirt, his hair, and he groans at the way your nails rake his scalp.

your lips part for him in a soft, whisper-quiet moan of his name, and he swallows it down almost greedily. you feel his tongue brush against yours and let out a low, needy sound, molten desire coursing through your veins.

his hand slips under your shirt, reaches for the soft skin of your side and presses up, up, up until it meets your breast and his thumb presses against your nipple in tight circles and you’re almost sobbing against his lips. 

you’re not aware that your hips are grinding against the hardness of him until his hand settles on your hip, slowing you down to a stop, and you part from him, breathless, and so, so needy.

there’s a thread of saliva between you, thin little spider-web intertwining your fates.

he looks at you, disheveled, glasses slightly askew, their lenses foggy, shirt half-opened for your gaze to meet tantalizing skin. a feast for the sore eyes.

“you might want to make me breakfast instead.”

“not like this,” he mumbles, thumb swiping against your bottom lip. “not- at least, let me treat you to dinner first.”

he chuckles at that, a little breathless, a little exasperated, definitely fond.

“cheeky.”

you peck his lip, sweetly. his hand tightens over your hip.

“look at the time, jon.” 

he rides up his sleeve ever so slightly to reveal his watch and with it, the tantalizing softness of his pulse, beating wildly against the tender skin of his inner wrist. almost four in the morning. you press your lips there, feel the yearning of his beating heart. 

he doesn’t think he’s seen you this beautiful. you, disheveled, on his lap, almost chest to chest with him, bringing his palm to your cheek and pressing fluttering kisses to his fingers. you, smiling up at him, exhausted, worn to the bone, but happy, and -

“oh.”

“what is it?”

your gaze lands on the tape recorder. oh.

“still recording. i should -”

“go home, get some sleep and finish what you started - me included - later.”

he sighs. there’s still a smile on his lips, exhaustion melting down to affection. 

"fine. end recording.”

[e-dubbc11]

Chocolate Kisses

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: I bet you can’t guess🤣…fluffy bunnies and unicorns, overworked Billy, maybe a swear word? I’m not sure. Alluding to smexy time 😉

Word Count: 1.5K-ish

Summary: Billy’s grouchy, he’s overworked and needs a little break. You’re hoping a little something sweet will lighten his mood.

A/N: I’m sure if you’ve been following me for awhile, you know one of my Billy headcanons is that he has a massive sweet tooth. This little idea popped into my head, figured I’d run with it. I hope you like it 🩵

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Inside his home office, with his head buried deep in paperwork, Billy groaned and grumbled periodically as he carefully thumbed through the papers on his desk. Glancing from the printed pages to the computer screens, he narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow. He was hard at work as always.

The office lights were dim and the warm glow from the desk lamp was easier on his eyes compared to the monitors he constantly stared at for hours on end. The work was just never finished sometimes, it followed him home, and Billy could never leave his work incomplete or what HE felt was incomplete.

That was the perfectionist in him.

The work kept coming in and he was always very busy but he loved it. He loved working, running his own company, and he was proud of the work he was doing. Billy wanted to have a purpose in life after being in the marines and with all of his hard work, life presented him with a great opportunity for himself and for others.

But sometimes you wanted him to slow down and enjoy the little things. You knew Billy had been working hard all day and mentioned he had more to do even after he came home for the evening so as a surprise, you strategically placed a piece of his favorite candy in the top center drawer of his desk. He never could resist those dark chocolate squares with the creamy caramel and a hint of sea salt inside. They were one of his favorites and you couldn’t wait for him to find it.

You could tell how busy he was just by how he answered the phone this afternoon. The tone of his voice was sharp, he gave you short one word responses, which led to a very quick apology when he realized he was taking his frustration out on you.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, sweet girl. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” Billy had said, gently. “Seems like everyone wants an answer from me at the same time, I’m just swamped.”

One corner of your mouth turned up into a half smile and you forgave him immediately. When you’re constantly bombarded with questions that demand answers, it wears on you, and you could only take so much.

You appreciated that Billy recognized he was taking his anger out on you because he didn’t always stop to think about how he was acting. Through trial and error, sometimes he had to learn the hard way about what it means to be in an actual relationship.

“I love you Billy Russo but don’t you dare take your bad day out on me.” You had to tell him on more than one occasion.

Up until he met you, Billy had lived his life the only way he knew how. He had always been in a constant state of survival mode, not knowing what it was like to be cared for and loved by anyone but you were patient with him and he learned quickly but still, he wasn’t perfect. And you didn’t expect him to be but he did need reminders to sneak in some play along with the work.

He continued to growl over the papers on his desk while you crept into his office to put some of your books away when you heard him open the center drawer to his desk. Biting back a smile, you could hear the noise the shiny blue foil paper made while in between his long agile fingers and the slight chuckle that escaped his lips.

You heard the sound of a pen fall onto a stack of papers as he reached for the other side of chocolate wrapper and out of the corner of your eye, you could see the childlike smile stretch across Billy’s lips as he removed the chocolate from its package.

He had finally taken a minute to breathe.

Just from one little square of chocolate, you watched the stress of Billy’s day float away as soon as he took that first bite. Growing up, he was lucky if he even got cheap penny candy at the group home let alone decadent dark chocolate. He savored every bite, tasted every note of that bittersweet chocolate and smooth buttery caramel.

Billy knew what it was like to have nothing. It was why he took such good care of everything he had now…his penthouse, his company, and…you. He knew it could all be taken away just as quickly as he acquired it and his delicious chocolate was no different.

“Was that from you, sweet girl?” Billy asked rhetorically with a wide Cheshire cat smile.

You loved to see the laugh lines around his beautiful onyx colored eyes every time he smiled at you. Nothing made you happier than to see Billy Russo smile.

Gripping your book tightly across your chest and still biting down on your lower lip, you nodded.

“Mmm hmm.” You finally replied. “You seemed like you were having a tough day. I thought it would be a nice surprise.”

Billy pushed back away from his desk, tasted the chocolate that remained on his thumb, and slowly walked over to you. His hands cupped your cheeks as he tilted your face up so he could look into your eyes before his lips collided with yours.

The taste of rich cocoa was still fresh on his tongue and the essence of sweet burnt sugar on his lips left you wanting to do nothing BUT taste him over and over again.

“It was a very nice surprise, my love. But chocolate or no chocolate, my day is always better when I come home to you.” Billy purred into your ear.

Warmth rushed to your cheeks as butterflies danced around in your stomach. His words made your heart flutter as he quickly pulled you into his chest, stroked your hair with his long nimble fingers, and told you over and over again how much he loved you.

“You always know when I need a break don’t you, y/n.” He said with a warm smile.

After putting your last book away, you snaked your arms around Billy’s neck and pulled his face close so his forehead was touching yours.

“Well Billy…you can be a little bit of a grouch when you’ve done nothing but work for 14 plus hours.” You replied, looking up at him through your long dark lashes.

“You think I work too much, baby?” Billy asked in a serious tone.

You started to nervously play with the buttons on his shirt, the fabric felt cool on the tips of your fingers and when you placed your hand against his chest, you could feel the rapid beating of his heart and all you had wanted to do was to put his fears to rest.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, Billy. I just want you to take more breaks, that’s all.” You said in barely more than a whisper and with your eyes locked on his. “Besides…I know you can’t say no to sweets.”

Billy let out a slight chuckle. It made him love you even more because you could make him laugh and the sound of his laughter was music to your ears.

“You know me too well, beautiful. I promise to take more breaks. Now, ya don’t happen to have any more of that chocolate, do ya?” He asked as he licked his bottom lip.

Something about the way he asked for more, the velvet tone to his voice was so smooth and sexy, and his New York accent turned you on no matter what he was talking about.

You traced one finger along his jawline then turned and started to walk away from him toward the office door before your replied, “Tell ya what, lieutenant…if you can catch me, you can have another piece.”

“Are we still talking about chocolate, sweet girl?” Billy asked with a devilish smile.

Looking back over your shoulder, you replied, “Catch me and find out, Mr. Russo.”

And you took off running out of the office with Billy following close behind. He was too fast so he caught you easily, tossed you over his shoulder and headed for the bedroom.

“BILLY! Put me down! You can have all the chocolate you want!” You said in between laughs.

Billy gently smacked you on the ass before he replied, “Oh I will my love, but first I’m in the mood for something else that tastes even sweeter than chocolate.”

He loved all things sweet…especially you.

There was something so innocent and pure about the way he reacted to something as small as a piece of chocolate or the toy army man you gave him for his desk to the grander gestures of telling him “I love you” and finding him a first edition of The Picture of Dorian Gray. He loved them all the same.

He treasured them, and kept them as close as he possibly could because they all came from someone who wanted him, who loved him more than anything, and who would never ever leave him.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialend @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @ittybxttykxttytxtty @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @mrsbillyrusso @russosafehaven

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[bendycxmet]

Makeup, Makeout—Vash the Stampede

Summary: Relaxing one night with Vash leads you to wanting to do makeup on him, and leads to more than you could have hoped for.

Word Count: ~2.1k

Pairing: gn!reader x Vash the Stampede

Content: modern AU, tension, teasing, some heavy making out, makeup, overall fluff

“Yo Wolfwood, you going anywhere today?” Vash peeked into his friend’s doorway.

“Want me out for a specific reason?” inquired Wolfwood from his desk in the corner of his dimly lit room, the only light coming from his computer screen as his lithe fingers danced over the keyboard, furious clicks sounding as he shot away at the enemy team. “Playing hooky? Thought that was my job.” With a quick glance, Wolfwood glanced at his blonde roommate, fidgeting with his vermilion hoodie, shrinking into the cotton material under his gaze.

Wolfwood snickered.

“They’re coming over aren’t they?” Vash sheepishly hummed at his friend’s guess, hinting to him that his guess was right as ever. Wolfwood sighed, pausing his game and removing his headphones so that he can turn to face Vash.

“Vash, when are you two going to finally date each other? We all can only handle so much pining between you two,” he said, referencing the times he, Milly, and Meryl all shared exasperated looks at the only two in the room that didn’t realize they had feelings for each other. 

“Give me a break? I don’t even know if they like me!” Vash groaned.

Wolfwood sighed. “Yeah yeah I’ll head out tonight to the girl’s apartment upstairs and give you two lovebirds your time alone.”

Living in the same apartment building as your friend group can really come in handy sometimes. You were more comfortable living with the girls, obviously, since they cleaned up after themselves and weren’t as noisy as the boys rooming a floor away. 

“Thank you…I appreciate it. It’s been a long week for them. They just wanted to have a movie night with me. No offense to you guys.” Vash chuckled, not blaming you for wanting to avoid the others, seeing as they were more…energized in their interactions half the time.

“Don’t sweat it. Already knew. Milly and Meryl texted me earlier inviting me to theirs so we could eat out at the new noodle shop since they said they saw how restless you seemed. We all know that means they want some alone time to recharge with their favorite person…” Wolfwood insinuated, winking at Vash. “Don’t have too much fun tonight.”

~~~~~~~

“Can I give you a rocker look?”

“Huh?”

You and Vash were cuddled together on the couch, watching some seasonal movie on TV as the end of the year was finally upon you two. You felt extremely cozy, a large plush blanket covering your body, your arms wrapped around his middle, smushing your face into his shoulder as you peered up at him, his arm softly placed on your back. He could hardly take the way your eyes peered up at him. 

It had been rainy that day, thick fluffy clouds slathered across the sky, a cold that licked at your skin all day until the warmth that radiated from Vash chased away the chills you had. 

The boys’ apartment, although weirdly put together in their decorations, was welcoming. Vash’s plants lined the wall that welcomed in the sun’s rays the most, not a leaf out of place. Poorly strung lights were loosely strewn across the ceiling, illuminating the living room in a warm glow, reflecting off the group pictures hung on the walls. The sky peeking in through the blinds revealed that it was blue hour, a contrasting gloomy blue to the warm tones of Vash’s apartment. All of these components proved to be a perfect spell for you to fall asleep on his couch. You needed something to wake yourself up.

“Yanno. With makeup,” you deadpanned, as if it was the obvious answer to his bewilderment.

“But…why? We don’t have any makeup here.” Vash tilted his head to the side, looking more like a confused puppy than ever. 

“I think you got the perfect face for a rocker look.” 

You could never tell him that it’s because he was already gorgeous, you were just curious how much prettier he could be with makeup on. 

“Besides, I have my makeup on me right now.”

“...were you planning on this?” Vash teased, squeezing your sides as a toothy grin fought to crack his face. You squealed at his movements, sadly having to wrench yourself from his warmth. 

“No! Mmm… maybe… anyways! I thought it would be good practice!” With that, you got up and quickly gathered your supplies from your bag. Black eyeshadow and eyeliner, a simple look that no doubt will send you to your knees once you saw it on him. 

“Hmm, ok how should I go about this…” you looked around, first glancing to his bedroom wondering if the dingy light in the bathroom would be enough. Yet, he was much taller than you, so peering up at him would hurt your neck…

“Uhh, we could just do it right here, no? I mean, it’s comfortable,” Vash offered from where he lounged on the couch.

“I guess you’re right!” With that, you plopped yourself down. Only, you don’t know what got into you. Or how shameless you were in that moment. Well, with how you were seated in Vash’s lap, knees on either side of his legs as you rummaged around in your makeup bag.

Vash froze. He was warm before, but now he felt hot. He peered at you as you grabbed a makeup palette, opening it and looking at your options, oblivious to the effect you had on him. You were rambling about how you came across this look, seeing a tutorial online earlier in the day and feeling inspired to try it on him as the guy in the video had similar features to the man between your thighs.

“Ok, ready. Close your eyes for me,” you said, opting to use your finger for the black eyeshadow. Doesn’t need to be perfect. 

Vash rushed to close his eyes before you made eye contact, hoping you couldn’t see how wide his eyes became from your previous movements. 

You hummed as you gently swiped the pigment onto his pale complexion, perfectly content and focused with the task at hand. Vash fought to keep his breathing under control so as to not reveal how fast paced his heart was, the action proving difficult as he felt your warm breath swoop over his cheeks, the scent that is so uniquely you filling his nostrils, indicating just how close you truly were.

Vash felt you lean back, thanking the heavens he was able to get a second to clear his mind of you. This was short lived as he felt you lean back in.

“Alright, now I need you to open your eyes for me. I gotta do the eyeliner on your bottom lid.” Vash breathed, slowly opening his blue eyes to stare down at a spot on your shoulder, avoiding eye contact. 

“Heyy~ I need you to look up now.”

He looked up at the low hanging lights, choosing to focus on one bulb. You went to work again, slowly adding the eyeliner to his lower lids. You were nearly done with the second eye when a shuddering breath reached your ears. The haze in your mind from focusing on applying makeup cleared, a veil seemingly lifted from your senses. When had you gotten so close?!

Shit. Vash nearly made it through your routine, just up until you leaned impossibly closer to him. The moment the warmth radiating off your face connected with his, your chest flattening against his, he couldn’t help the staggering breath that left him. The position you two were in was becoming too intimate.

You took a deep breath before taking in the sight before you. Damn, you did a good job. The onyx pigmentation contrasted perfectly with everything that is Vash. His fair skin. His wonderfully blue eyes that were always regarding you with such kindness and reverence. He was a sight to behold. He was hot. 

Your senses were completely engulfed by Vash, your surroundings blurring. His light floral scent, his warmth that came from where you two were touching, his wet, slightly parted lips…his heaving chest… wait. What the hell is going on? 

It was finally then that you realized what you had been up to for the past five minutes. You were seated, too comfortably, in his lap. Your proximity to him could be labeled as promiscuous with how your thighs were hugging his.

“O-Ok, I think I’m done. You’re making me jealous! How dare you have better eyelashes than me. Anyway, you look really cool! Let’s go look in the mirror!” you rambled, reeling from your revelation. 

Get out. Abort. Move away, goddammit! You’re cutting it close! Your mind all but screamed at you.

You went to push away from him, but you found yourself not budging an inch. Confused, you looked down, seeing Vash’s lean arm grasping your back, keeping you close to him.

~~~~~~~

“You’re a coward.”

“Excuse you?!” screamed Vash, his words slurred as Wolfwood kept him upright on their walk home from the club.

“All that liquid courage and you didn’t make a single damn move on them?? No matter how drunk everyone in that club was, people could tell how in love you two were!” Wolfwood pressed.

The group had gone out on a chilly Saturday night, searching for a fun time, choosing to head into a local club, where they all got positively hammered. Everyone had several rounds of tequila, you and Vash taking the lead and stumbling on the dancefloor. The entire night, the remaining crew rolled their eyes at your blatant affection for one another. Your hands were around Vash’s neck, his hands protectively encircling your back as you two danced song after song, bodies closely swaying to the beat, in your own worlds until Vash had to run to the bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach. 

“We were just dancing, like everyone else!” Vash yelled.

“If only you saw it from our point of view…prove me wrong. Next time.”

“Whaa…?” 

Wolfwood breathed a sigh of relief as they entered their apartment building. 

“Next time you’re that close to them, make a move. Normal friends don’t usually get that close to each other. Time and time again.”

Although Vash was drunk out of his mind that night, he managed to catch every single one of Wolfwood’s critiques. Wolfwood’s recommendation managed to lodge itself in the recesses of his mind. 

~~~~~~~

His pupils were dilated, probably matching the way yours looked at that moment. You shuddered as his hand slowly moved up to caress the back of your head. You didn’t dare move away this time. 

Make a move. Wolfwood’s words echoed once again in his head. 

Yeah, maybe I will. With that final thought, he closed the tiny distance you had created.

Warm. That’s all you felt in that moment. You had imagined countless times what it would feel like to finally kiss him, but none of your childish fantasies lived up to this moment. His plump lips were soft as they moved against your own, pulling gasps and full-body shivers from you. He angled both your heads, deepening the kiss. He groaned at your reciprocation, the arm around your waist squeezing you tighter against him, unknowingly brushing you against his hips. Your arms went to hug his shoulders at the same time his hand came up to carefully cradle your jaw, his thumb swiping across your cheekbones. You were panting into his mouth at this point, all oxygen leaving your body at the deep kisses he was giving you, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip as a heads up before delving in to explore and get to know a new part of you.

He’s gonna be the death of you.

He hoped you could understand him. In the kisses he gave you, he hoped you could hear his confessions of love and admiration he has harbored for you, his apologies for taking so long to give them to you. One day, he would say them out loud. Not today, though. What you both needed at this moment was each other’s physical presence finally molding and mixing together. 

~~~~~~~

3am. That’s gotta be enough time for those lovebirds. Wolfwood sleepily pondered, key turning in the lock to his shared apartment. 

"Let us know how they are! They haven’t responded to our texts for awhile now. That’s gotta mean something!" The girls’ voice rang in the back of his head. Crossing the threshold, Wolfwood’s eyes immediately fell on the pair on the couch. 

He snickered. You were in a peculiar position, arms and legs wrapped around Vash’s hips and waist, your sleeping face tucked into his neck, soft, even breaths occasionally blowing against the blonde’s skin. It was as if your unconscious body was unwilling to let go of Vash now that you finally had him. Your head failed to cover the circular bruises littered on Vash’s neck, your own neck mirroring his.

Vash shyly met Wolfwood’s eyes. Although the room was dimly lit, Wolfwood could see Vash’s face had been beet red.

“You two really are idiots.”

A/N: thx for reading! everything is crossposted on my ao3

masterlist

divider by saradika

[villainessprefect]

~Tell It to My Heart~

title: Late Night With You

Prompt #2: Ending a phone call with an accidental “love you”

Idia x gn!reader

Read on AO3

Your eyes glide to the clock at the corner of the screen. You watch as the seconds literally tick by and bite back a sigh once you realize how late it's gotten. If the darkness enveloping your room and the main source of light coming from your computer wasn't obvious that it was well past your bedtime.

"It's getting late," you say. It is late, you mentally correct yourself.

"And?" Comes a voice from your headphones. You roll your eyes at his response. "It's not like we're doing anything tomorrow."

"You're not. I am." You fiddle with your mic that's connected to your headset. "Unless if you want to show up to class with me?"

You hear something akin to a huff and can practically feel his eye roll.

"Hard pass. These drop rates are harder than pulling for a limited edition SSR character and we're only given a week to grind for them? An event like this won't get a rerun for at least a year or two. It's now or never."

You shake your head and let out a yawn. Leave it to Idia to find importance in an online game. You don't doubt that he's right, but you're not a hardcore gamer like him. Life calls whether you want it to or not and you have to answer it.

"You make a convincing argument. Think you can get enough for me too?"

"Do you know who you're talking to? When I'm done we'll have enough materials to make a second set of weapons for display," he says with a chuckle.

A smile inches on your face at the sound. A shame that you can't hear it in person. It sounds better compared to the slightly muffled version in your ears.

"Thanks. We still on for Saturday? That's when the drop rates increase, right?"

"Yeah. I'll send you better armor so we can one-shot those raids too."

"Cool." You feel another yawn coming your way and barely manage to hold it back. You rub your eyes and feel a little guilty for not holding much of a conversation. To be fair though, keeping your eyes open isn't easy even with the blaring light of a laptop shining on your face. "Okay, I can't be up much longer. You should be heading to bed soon even if you're not going to show up for class."

"Eh? No way. I can do this all night!"

"I'll message Ortho," you threaten with a grin. Idia falls silent and you can imagine him glancing back to look at his brother. The image makes you chuckle. It wouldn't be the first time you'd manage to get Ortho to get Idia to bed. "Kidding. Anyway, see you later, Idia. Love you."

You pull off your headset and place it on your desk. You log off your account and then the laptop's screen fades to black. A whine escapes you as you're forced to adjust to the sudden darkness.

You stretch your limbs as you stand from your chair. Carefully, you navigate the walk from desk to bed. It's a short path but you don't know what lies hiding in the dark. Thankfully, your mission is successful and you land in bed with a thud.

Grim rolls around beside you, muttering something in his sleep. The monster doesn't wake, surprisingly, and you take a moment to run a hand through his fur. He purrs, getting cozy underneath your touch, and nestles closer to you. Then he mumbles something about tuna.

"Sweet dreams..." You breathe out. With one last yawn, you shut your eyes.

Only to have them shoot open as your body jerks itself upward.

"Oh my god..." You gasp, a hand flying to your mouth. You can feel your cheeks burning, your heart racing a mile a minute.

Did you...Did you really just tell Idia you love him?

You totally did not just do that.

Idia is frozen in his chair with wide eyes. He feels like a cat that's just been spooked as he repeats your goodbye over and over in his mind. Those two little words you uttered could easily OHKO him. And if you were right in front of him, he really would have died on the spot.

Idia pulls his hands off his keyboard to cover his face. His room is enveloped in a soft blue glow that stems from his hair. Now it begins to flash a light pink. His cheeks began to match the new color surrounding him.

"Th-They didn't mean to say that..." He tells himself. "I-It's late and they're just tired. Yeah. Th-That's it. N-No way they'd tell me that. Besides that's not a way they would confess..."

Not that he's thought about you confessing to him. Well, he has. A bit. Okay, more than he's ever willing to admit. And he's not going to go off about how he imagines it happening underneath a cherry blossom tree after school with flowers sparkling around your image.

"They're right, i-it's getting late..." Idia tries to calm his nerves while logging out of his game. His fingers are set on autopilot as your voice echoes in his head.

Even as he finds himself in bed, curling underneath the covers, he can't fall asleep. You are on his mind now more than ever. His heart bounces around his chest, making him feel giddy while his mind fights against it, scolding it and being realistic about your words being a tired mistake.

Regardless of which one wins, he's definitely not going out tomorrow.

Oh. That brings up another problem. Instead of looking forward to playing with you, now he's dreading it.

What the hell is going to happen on Saturday?!

[strljaem]

“i’ve appreciated the way you appreciated my hard work”

as an oxford student.

The sun was barely a smudge on the horizon when I left my dorm, the sky painted in shades of gray that mirrored my mood. Oxford’s cobblestone streets were slick with morning dew, each step sending a shiver through my shoes. As I crossed the quad, I felt the centuries of history staring down at me from the towering spires, their solemn stone faces whispering tales of brilliance and struggle.

I walked briskly to my first class of the day—Discrete Mathematics. It was a small lecture hall, but the pressure within was anything but diminutive. Rows of students sat hunched over laptops, the blue glow of their screens casting a ghostly light on their faces. The quiet murmur of hushed discussions floated through the air, mingling with the faint scent of coffee from the communal pot in the corner.

The professor's voice cut through the room, each word carrying a weight that seemed to sink into my chest. The content was dense, complex, and required more concentration than my caffeine-addled brain could muster at this hour. I scribbled notes, trying to keep up, but the pace was relentless. I glanced at my classmates; they were absorbed, their fingers flying over keyboards, their eyes fixed on the projection screen where diagrams and equations blurred into a dizzying dance.

Between classes, I made my way to the computer lab, where the steady hum of computers filled the air. Here, the stress became palpable. Students hunched over their workstations, faces creased with concentration. I saw friends exchanging worried glances, their voices hushed as they discussed the latest assignment—another mountain to climb, another impossible deadline. It was a constant grind, a relentless barrage of tasks that seemed designed to test our breaking points.

I felt the weight of my laptop in my bag, the weight of the assignments stacking up like a Jenga tower on the brink of collapse. My calendar was a sea of red, each block of time filled with deadlines, study sessions, and meetings with professors. I couldn’t afford to slack, not with the constant reminder that everyone here was exceptional, and the competition was fierce.

As I left the lab, I caught a glimpse of the ancient college buildings bathed in a faint morning light. They were beautiful, but their beauty felt distant, almost mocking. I wondered how many students before me had walked these same paths, felt the same stress, and questioned whether they could ever measure up to the legacy of Oxford. I took a deep breath, knowing that I had to keep pushing, even as the assignments threatened to drown me in a sea of anxiety.

I entered the next class, slipping into a seat beside my best friend, Emily. The lecture hall was buzzing with energy, the usual chatter and rustling of notebooks echoing off the stone walls. Emily looked up and gave me a quick smile. "Hey," she said, sliding a stack of papers into her bag. "You survived Data Structures, huh? How brutal was it today?"

"Brutal doesn't even begin to cover it," I replied with a dramatic sigh. "The assignment load is insane. But hey, at least we've got coffee to look forward to afterward."

Emily chuckled, flipping open her laptop. "I'm holding you to that. Double espresso, here I come."

I nodded, taking out my own supplies and arranging them neatly on the desk. The lecture was about to start, and I was mentally preparing myself for another hour of high-intensity learning. But as I looked toward the door, the chatter died down, and everything seemed to shift into slow motion.

The lecturer walked in, and I had to blink to make sure I wasn't imagining things. He looked quite young. Maybe we weren’t that much gap in age. I’m 21, he might be around 24?? He was tall and carried himself with a confidence that was almost ethereal. His attire was impeccably stylish—tailored navy trousers, a crisp white shirt, and a slim-fit blazer that looked like it was made for him. He had a casual elegance about him that set him apart from the other lecturers, who usually wore more traditional academic robes.

But it was his eyes that really caught my attention. They were a striking shade of brown-black, so vivid they seemed to capture the entire spectrum of my life. They were deep and expressive, capable of conveying a world of meaning with a single glance. As he scanned the room, his gaze met mine for a fleeting moment, and I felt my heart skip a beat.

His hair was another story altogether. It was jet black and fell in soft waves that framed his face, adding to his allure. It seemed to move with a life of its own, bouncing gently with each step he took. I had never seen a lecturer like him before—someone who could blend intelligence with such effortless style.

I felt a strange flutter in my chest, a mix of nerves and curiosity. It was unlike anything I'd felt in a classroom before. The room was silent as he reached the podium, his presence commanding attention without a single word. As he spoke, his voice was smooth and rich, filling the hall with a calm authority. I couldn't help but be drawn in, mesmerized by his every word.

Emily nudged me, a smirk on her lips. "What's with that look? Someone's got a crush on the new lecturer, huh?"

I rolled my eyes, trying to play it cool. "Oh, please. I'm just... appreciating the scenery, that's all."

But deep down, I knew that this lecture was going to be different, and not just because of the content. This lecturer had a way of making everything seem more intriguing, more exciting. And as I took notes, I couldn't help but steal glances at him, my mind racing with questions and my heart pounding in a way I hadn't expected.

Then he spoke, and my world stopped spinning. “Good morning, everyone,” he said in a husky, deep voice that seemed to reverberate through the lecture hall. “My name is Mr. Na Jaemin, but you can call me Mr. Na. I’m the new lecturer for this course.” His voice was so smooth, so rich, that it seemed to wrap around each word, adding an almost hypnotic quality to everything he said.

The chatters around the lecture hall faded into silence. My attention was glued to him, the way his words seemed to flow effortlessly from his lips. It was as if he had this magnetic pull, drawing all eyes to him without even trying. I felt my brain shutting down, like it was too overwhelmed to process anything but the sound of his voice.

He continued to speak, introducing the course and outlining what we could expect in the weeks to come, but I barely registered any of it. I was too busy watching the way his lips moved as he spoke, the way his eyes lit up when he glanced around the room. It felt like the whole world had narrowed down to this moment, to this lecture hall, to him.

Emily nudged me, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Are you listening to anything he’s saying, or are you just lost in those eyes?”

I gave her a weak smile, my voice barely a whisper. “What? Oh, yeah, totally listening.” But I wasn’t, not really. I was caught in a trance, and it felt like I might never want to break free.

The class ended, just like that. I snapped out of my daze when Emily nudged me again, laughing softly. I looked down at my notebook—blank, not a single word jotted down. This was unusual for me. Usually, I'd be scribbling furiously, trying to capture every important point. But today? Nothing. The entire lecture passed in a haze, and now Mr. Na was gone, leaving me in a whirlwind of confusion.

Emily was packing her things, a grin stretching across her face. "Looks like someone wasn't paying attention," she teased, stuffing her laptop into her bag. "Did you even hear anything he said? Or were you just too busy daydreaming about those eyes?"

I gave her a sheepish smile, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "What? No, I was totally listening. Just... you know, processing." I tried to sound convincing, but even I didn't believe my own words. My brain was still replaying Mr. Na's entrance, his voice, and those captivating blue eyes.

Emily laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Right. Processing. Sure, we'll go with that." She finished packing and slung her bag over her shoulder. "Come on, let's grab that coffee. We can work on our assignments together before the next class. You might need a little help catching up."

I sighed, closing my notebook and shoving it into my bag. "Yeah, coffee sounds good. Let's get out of here." I stood up, my legs feeling slightly wobbly, as if my entire body was still reeling from the effect of Mr. Na's presence. It was like I had been hit by a tidal wave of charm, and I was just now starting to find my footing.

We made our way out of the lecture hall, the chatter of other students gradually filling the hallway. I spotted a couple of our friends and waved them over. "Hey, we're heading to the coffee shop. Wanna join us?"

They nodded, and we all headed toward the exit, the crisp Oxford air hitting my face as we stepped outside. It was refreshing, grounding me a bit after the surreal experience of the lecture. Emily leaned in close, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "So, love at first sight, huh?"

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help but smile. "Oh, come on. Don't start with that."

She laughed, shaking her head. "I'm just saying. I've never seen you this spaced out after a lecture. I mean, you've got a reputation for being the note-taking queen."

I chuckled, finally feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders. "Yeah, yeah. Just had a lot on my mind, that's all." But even as I said it, I knew the truth. Something about Mr. Na had thrown me off balance, and it was going to take a lot more than a coffee to get me back on track.

The night settled over Oxford, the city’s ancient architecture casting long shadows under the dim streetlights. I was back in my dorm, a small but cozy room with a single bed tucked into a corner. The walls were adorned with posters and notes from various classes, but tonight, none of them held my attention.

I sat on my bed, my laptop propped up on my legs, pretending to study. My eyes kept wandering, staring at the ceiling or through the small window that offered a glimpse of the college quad. The usual buzz of student life filtered through the walls, faint voices and laughter from the common area down the hall, but it all felt distant.

All I could think about was Mr. Na.

His face appeared in my mind, as if etched there permanently. Those striking blue eyes, the kind that seemed to see right through you, and the way his fluffy black hair framed his handsome face. His voice—deep, smooth, and soothing—kept playing in my head, each word lingering long after he'd left the classroom.

I closed my laptop, knowing full well I wouldn't get any more studying done tonight. Instead, I got ready for bed, changing into my pajamas and brushing my teeth. As I moved around the small room, I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to see Mr. Na again the next day. Would he remember me? Would he smile in that way that made my heart skip a beat?

As I climbed into bed, I felt a mix of excitement and nerves. It was ridiculous—I had only just met the man, but something about him had completely thrown me off my usual routine. I was known for my discipline, my focus, but now all I wanted was to be in his class again, to hear his voice, to watch him command the room with that effortless charisma.

I pulled the blankets over me, my mind racing with what-ifs. What if he taught more classes? What if I had the chance to talk to him after a lecture? I knew it was all a bit fanciful, but I couldn't help it. There was something about him that made me feel like I was in the middle of a daydream.

As I closed my eyes, I hoped I would dream of him. Maybe we’d be in a classroom, his voice echoing off the walls, or maybe it would be something else entirely. The possibilities seemed endless, and I drifted off with a smile, eagerly awaiting what tomorrow might bring.

The next morning, I woke up with a sense of excitement that felt almost tangible. It washed over me in waves, making my hands tremble with anticipation. I got ready for the day, my thoughts racing through the upcoming lectures, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mr. Na again. Would he remember me? Would he say something that made my heart flutter?

As I walked down the hallway, I was practically bouncing on my toes. My backpack felt lighter, and even the morning chill couldn't dampen my mood. But then, as I turned a corner, I saw him. He was standing at the far end of the corridor, talking to a student—a girl with long, dark hair and a bright smile. They were laughing together, his voice low and warm, and her laughter light and melodic.

My heart skipped a beat, then sank like a stone. I felt a sharp pain in my chest, a sudden burst of anger and jealousy that was as unexpected as it was intense. He was smiling at her, really smiling, like he was genuinely enjoying their conversation. And I hated it.

It was ridiculous, I knew that. He was my lecturer, not someone I could claim ownership over. Yet, the sight of him laughing with her felt like a punch to the gut. I had no right to be upset, but the feeling was there, sharp and cutting. I told myself to calm down, to not let this childish jealousy take over, but it was hard to ignore the tightening in my chest.

"Get it together," I muttered under my breath, forcing myself to look away. "You're just being stupid. It's just a crush. A stupid, ridiculous crush."

I tried to push the feelings down as I headed to my first class. It was him—Mr. Na. As I entered the lecture hall, I was determined to focus on the lesson, to act like everything was fine. But the sight of him earlier still lingered in my mind, and I had to take a deep breath to steady myself.

He walked into the lecture hall, calm and composed, like nothing had happened. Like he didn't just tear my heart into pieces with his smile. I clenched my jaw, refusing to let my emotions get the better of me. This was a classroom, and I needed to act like an adult. This wasn't high school; I couldn't afford to be distracted by a silly crush.

As the lecture began, I forced myself to take notes, to focus on the content. I wrote down everything he said, my pen moving quickly across the paper. The childish thoughts and jealousy were pushed to the back of my mind. I needed to be mature, to concentrate on what mattered—my studies, my future.

But even as I pretended to be focused, a part of me couldn't help but glance at him from time to time, wondering what it was about him that had such an effect on me. I told myself it was just a passing fancy, that I would get over it soon. Yet, deep down, I knew it wouldn't be that simple.

It had been a few weeks since the initial flutters and jitters of my crush on Mr. Na. I'd decided to focus on my studies, to keep things professional, and, frankly, it was working. The excitement had faded, and he was just another lecturer in my eyes—at least, that's what I told myself. I was more focused, my notes were detailed, and I was catching up on all the assignments. But then, one day, everything shifted.

Mr. Na stormed into the lecture hall, and everyone knew something was wrong. His usual calm demeanor was gone, replaced by a furious energy that crackled in the air. He was wearing glasses today—thick-framed and sleek. With them on, he looked even hotter than usual. He wore a white tee, a black tie, and slim-fit black trousers. But it wasn't his style that caught my attention. It was his mood. He was angry, really angry, and he made sure everyone knew it.

He slammed a stack of assignments on the table, the sound echoing throughout the hall. "What is this?" he exclaimed, pointing at the pile of papers. "These are ridiculous! This is not what I expect from Oxford students! You are capable of much better than this!"

His voice was loud, sharp, cutting through the silence like a knife. I could feel the tension in the room; everyone was on edge. Mr. Na paced back and forth, his eyes blazing with frustration. He was passionate about his subject, that much was clear, but his anger made it seem like he was ready to combust.

He grabbed a book and banged it on the table for emphasis. "This isn't high school! You're here to learn, not to slack off and turn in half-baked work. I want perfection. I demand it!" His voice echoed off the stone walls, sending shivers down my spine.

I was just staring at him, mesmerized by the intensity of his rage. It was understandable—I'd be mad too if I were in his shoes. He cared about the quality of our work, and he wasn't shy about expressing his disappointment. But still, it was unnerving to see him like this.

The lecture hall was silent. Dead silent. No one dared to make a sound. Mr. Na continued his tirade, his eyes scanning the room like a hawk searching for prey. And then he called my name.

I felt my heart skip a beat. The room seemed to close in around me as I stood up and walked toward him. My hands were sweating, my pulse racing. He looked up at me with those piercing blue eyes, and I knew I was in trouble.

He opened my book and paused for what felt like an eternity. The silence stretched, and I could hear my own breathing, heavy and ragged. I was sweating bullets, my nerves frayed to the breaking point. What would he say? Would he tear me apart like he did the others? My mind was a whirlwind of fear and anticipation.

Finally, he spoke.

Mr. Na opened my book and paused for a moment that felt like an eternity. His eyes scanned my work with a critical yet calm focus. But then, something changed. The corners of his lips lifted into a smile. It was subtle, but it transformed the entire atmosphere in the lecture hall. The tension seemed to melt away as he began to speak.

"Excellent work," he said, his voice warm and filled with genuine praise. "This is exactly the kind of detail and sophistication I expect from my students. Thorough, precise, and insightful. Keep it up." He continued to speak, listing the aspects of my assignment that he found impressive, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. This was the recognition I needed after all those late nights and long hours.

Around me, I could hear the murmurs of approval from my classmates. Emily gave me a discreet thumbs-up, and even some of the usually more reserved students nodded in acknowledgment. It was a rare moment of triumph, a fleeting victory in the midst of the rigorous grind.

But not everyone was pleased. I caught a glimpse of the girl from the hallway, the one Mr. Na had been smiling and chatting with earlier. She was sitting at the back with her group of friends, and her expression was anything but approving. She was glaring at me, her eyes narrowed in a mix of jealousy and disdain. Her friends seemed to pick up on her mood, sharing looks and whispering among themselves.

The intensity of her stare was unnerving, but I tried to ignore it. After all, Mr. Na was praising me in front of the entire class, and I didn't want to let anything spoil the moment. But the girl's glare was like a laser, sharp and unyielding, as if she was trying to burn a hole through me. What was her problem? Did she think I was trying to steal the spotlight? Or was she just angry because her own assignment didn't meet his expectations?

Mr. Na continued with the lecture, his voice steady and authoritative, but I could feel the eyes of that girl on me the entire time. It was hard to focus, but I reminded myself that I had earned this praise, and I wasn't about to let anyone take it away from me. I took a deep breath and returned to my notes, pretending not to notice the looks from the back of the room.

Emily leaned over and whispered, "What's with her? She looks like she's ready to explode."

I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "Maybe she didn't like the critique. Or she's just having a bad day." But even as I said it, I knew there was more to it. The girl's glare held a bitterness that couldn't be explained away by a bad grade. It was personal.

As the class continued, I resolved to stay focused and not let the jealousy get to me. But I knew I'd have to keep my guard up. Mr. Na's praise was a double-edged sword—it brought recognition, but it also attracted unwanted attention. And from the looks of it, I had just made an enemy.

I couldn't believe it. Mr. Na had just highly praised my work in front of the entire class. The very same Mr. Na who, not long ago, had made my heart race with a single glance. The same man I had spent sleepless nights thinking about, only to force myself to focus on my studies and let those feelings fade away. But now, here he was, smiling at me like I had done something extraordinary.

A mix of emotions swirled within me. There was the undeniable sense of pride—I had worked hard on that assignment, and it was gratifying to have my efforts recognized. But there was also something else, a lingering echo of the crush I thought I had put behind me. Hearing his voice, seeing that smile, it all felt strangely familiar, like a forgotten melody that suddenly played again.

It was almost surreal. I had once daydreamed about moments like this, where he'd acknowledge me in a special way. And yet, I had moved on, hadn't I? I had decided to focus on my studies, to let the feelings of my "first love" fade away into the background. But now, standing there in the lecture hall, it all came rushing back.

It was as if my heart couldn't make up its mind. I was thrilled to have impressed him, but part of me was uneasy, knowing that these lingering feelings might lead me down a path I had resolved to avoid. This was a classroom, not a romantic novel. I had to keep my emotions in check.

And yet, his words of praise echoed in my mind, refusing to be ignored. His voice had a way of making everything seem brighter, more vivid. It was like being drawn into a familiar orbit, one that I had consciously left behind. The challenge was to keep my focus on the important things—my studies, my future—and not let the swirling emotions distract me from my goals.

As I sat back down, I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I couldn't let a moment of praise from Mr. Na throw me off course. But the memory of his smile, the warmth in his eyes, lingered like a whisper I couldn't quite shake. It was a reminder that first loves, even those you thought you'd moved on from, had a way of reappearing when you least expected them.

The class ended, and the lecture hall erupted in a flurry of activity. Everyone was gathering their books, shuffling papers, and heading for the door, eager to get on with their day. I was packing my things slowly, my mind still processing what had just happened. Mr. Na's words of praise echoed in my ears, leaving a warm sensation in my chest.

Emily was already at the door, her bag slung over her shoulder. She waved at me, gesturing for me to hurry up. "Come on! I've got another class in a few minutes," she said, her voice carrying over the din.

I waved back, indicating for her to go ahead. "You go. I have a couple of hours free before my next class. I'll head to the library and do some research." She nodded and left, her footsteps disappearing into the crowd.

I was almost done packing when I heard it—my name, called softly but with a tone that instantly caught my attention. It was Mr. Na, his voice like silk and velvet, low and smooth. It was the kind of voice that could stop anyone in their tracks, and it certainly did with me. My heart skipped a beat, and I turned around to find him standing at the lecturing desk, his eyes locked on me.

He'd taken off his glasses, letting them dangle from his shirt's neckline. The look suited him, adding an edge of casual confidence to his usual professional demeanor. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he'd been running his fingers through it in frustration, but it only made him look more appealing. I couldn't help but think that he had never looked this hot before.

"Could I talk to you for a moment?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of invitation. The lecture hall was mostly empty now, with just a few stragglers left gathering their things. I nodded, unable to find my voice at first. It took me a second to remember to breathe.

I walked toward him, my bag slung over one shoulder. My steps were hesitant, like I was walking into unfamiliar territory. What could he possibly want to talk to me about? The compliment earlier had already thrown me off balance, and now this? It was like a whirlwind of unexpected events, and I wasn't sure if I was prepared for whatever came next.

As I approached the desk, I noticed how his eyes seemed even browner up close, a shade that could just warm up the cold weather of Oxofrd. I tried to act casual, to hide the nervousness that made my palms sweat. But the way he looked at me, with that gentle yet intense gaze, made it hard to keep my composure.

As I reached the lecturing desk, Mr. Na was already watching me with those striking brown-black eyes, a slight smile on his lips. He motioned for me to stand closer, his voice low but clear enough to be heard over the diminishing noise of the other students leaving. It felt like the whole room had shrunk to just the two of us, the rest of the world fading into a blur.

"I've been keeping an eye on each of my students," he began, his tone serious yet warm. "It's part of my job to ensure everyone is progressing and engaged." He paused, letting his words sink in. His gaze was steady, sharp, like he was reading every detail in my expression. It was the kind of look that could pierce through walls, the kind that saw everything.

"But you," he continued, his voice softening, "you caught my attention. You've been fully focused in class, your work is consistently excellent, and you ask insightful questions. I'm proud of you." The way he said it, with that mix of authority and genuine warmth, sent a shiver down my spine. It was as if he saw me, really saw me, beyond the grades and assignments.

I felt my cheeks flush, heat rising to my face. His words were more than just a compliment; they were a validation, an acknowledgment that my hard work wasn't going unnoticed. The silence between us grew, stretching into a long pause. He seemed to be waiting for my response, his eyes holding a gentle yet expectant gaze.

It took me a moment to find my voice. My mind was racing, struggling to come up with something intelligent to say, something that wouldn't sound too awkward or forced. My heart was pounding in my chest, the pulse echoing in my ears. This was more than just a simple "well done"—it felt like he was reaching out to connect on a level that went beyond the classroom.

Finally, I snapped back to reality, realizing that he was still waiting for me to respond. I cleared my throat, trying to sound composed despite the whirlwind of emotions. "Thank you so much, Mr. Na," I said, my voice steady but with a hint of nervousness. "It means a lot coming from you." I wanted to say more, to express how much his words had impacted me, but I didn't trust myself to speak without betraying the rush of feelings I was experiencing.

He nodded, a smile spreading across his lips. "Keep it up," he said, his voice carrying an encouraging warmth. "I have high hopes for you." With that, he turned back to his lecturing materials, leaving me standing there, my heart still racing, trying to process what had just happened. The tension was still there, but now it felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted. I took a deep breath, knowing I had to keep my focus and live up to the expectations he'd just set. But the warmth from his words lingered, a quiet reassurance that seemed to fill the room even after he had turned away.

As I turned to leave the room, my cheeks were flushed with a warmth that spread through my entire body. I couldn't help but glance back at Mr. Na, watching him as he gathered his materials for the next class. He was so composed, so self-assured, and yet his words to me were gentle and full of praise. I felt a surge of pride and a touch of something else I couldn't quite place—gratitude, perhaps, or a rekindled admiration. Whatever it was, it made me walk a little taller as I headed for the door.

But as I stepped out into the hallway, my confidence faltered. The same group of girls who had been glaring at me earlier during Mr. Na's praise were standing off to the side, throwing me dirty looks. There were four of them, and they seemed to be waiting, as if I had unknowingly stepped into their territory. Their ringleader was the girl from the hallway, the one who'd been laughing with Mr. Na before. Her arms were crossed, and her eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin crawl.

It was one against four. A part of me wanted to turn around and find another way out, but I knew that would only give them what they wanted—a sign that I was afraid. Instead, I kept my cool, squaring my shoulders as I walked past them. I was taller than most of them, which gave me a slight advantage. If nothing else, I could use my height to project confidence, even if I felt like my stomach was doing somersaults.

As I passed by, the ringleader couldn't resist a snide remark. "Look who's suddenly the teacher's pet," she said, her voice dripping with sarcascastic mockery. Her friends snickered, each throwing me a glare that felt like daggers.

The ringleader, the girl who had been talking to Mr. Na in the hallway earlier, was hard to ignore. Her outfit was designed to draw attention—a cropped top that showed off her midriff and tight jeans that hugged her figure. She had a confident, almost cocky air about her, and her long, black hair cascaded over her shoulders in waves. It was the kind of look that seemed intended to impress, and judging by the way she stood with her arms crossed, she knew she was being watched.

When I saw her speaking to Mr. Na earlier, she had been all smiles and charm, clearly trying to make an impression. And why wouldn’t she? Mr. Na’s laughter had been genuine, his eyes lighting up as she spoke. But now, it seemed like her pleasant demeanor had melted away, replaced by a scowl that she aimed directly at me.

It was almost laughable. Trying to impress Mr. Na with ridiculous grades and revealing outfits? Keep on dreaming. This was Oxford, not a fashion show. I knew I had earned Mr. Na’s praise through hard work and dedication, not by batting my eyelashes and hoping for the best. If this girl thought she could gain favor with him by dressing provocatively and flashing a smile, she was in for a rude awakening.

But even so, the sting of jealousy was unmistakable in her eyes. It was like she had expected Mr. Na’s attention to be hers alone, and my success had disrupted her carefully laid plans. I wasn’t going to let her or her gang of friends intimidate me, but I knew I’d need to keep my guard up. People like her could be unpredictable when they felt threatened. And I had no intention of becoming her next target.

I took a deep breath, refusing to let them get to me. "Jealousy doesn't suit you," I replied, my voice even and calm. I kept walking, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. My heart was pounding, but I knew I had to maintain my composure. The last thing I needed was a confrontation in the hallway.

As I turned the corner, I could still hear them laughing, but I didn't look back. I had more important things to focus on, like my studies and the praise Mr. Na had given me. Besides, I wasn't about to let a group of mean-spirited girls ruin my day. I walked with my head held high, reminding myself that I had earned my place here. If they wanted to throw shade, that was their problem, not mine.

A few weeks turned into months, and life at Oxford settled into a steady rhythm. The initial excitement of my first encounter with Mr. Na had given way to a determined focus on my studies. I was no longer the daydreamer I once was; instead, I was known for my diligence and attention to detail. I threw myself into my coursework, attending every lecture, meticulously taking notes, and diving deep into research projects. It paid off in ways I hadn't anticipated.

When the results for the first mid-term test were released, I was nervous but hopeful. The rumors had been circulating that this would be the most challenging exam of the term, and many students were on edge. I opened my email, my heart racing, and saw the score: 4.00 GPA. It was perfect. I couldn't believe it. All those sleepless nights, the endless hours in the library, and the pressure I had put on myself—it had all been worth it.

The list of top students with a 4.00 GPA was proudly announced in every student's email inbox, on Oxford's main board, and even in the daily campus newsletter. It was everywhere, and my name was the first on the list. I was thrilled but tried to keep my excitement in check. I didn't want to come across as boastful, even though I was bursting with pride.

I immediately called my parents, who lived far from Oxford, and their voices were filled with joy and pride. "We're so proud of you!" my mom said, her voice cracking with emotion. My dad chimed in, "That's our girl! We knew you could do it!" We talked for a while, discussing my studies and the vacation we were planning for the next summer holidays. It felt good to share my success with them, to hear their enthusiasm for the future.

Emily and the rest of my friends congratulated me with genuine happiness. "You're amazing!" Emily said, giving me a big hug. "We need to celebrate! Let's throw a party after all that studying and cramming. You deserve it!" I agreed, grateful for the support of my friends. It was nice to know that I wasn't alone in this journey, that I had people who cared about me and wanted to share in my achievements.

But even as the celebration plans took shape, I was already looking ahead. I had set my sights on something bigger—a Ph.D. I knew the road ahead would be challenging, but I was ready for it. The 4.00 GPA was a significant milestone, but it was just the beginning. I was determined to push further, to explore new horizons, and to make a mark in the world of computer science.

Oxford had given me the tools, and I intended to use them. The party was just the beginning of a new chapter, one that would lead me to greater heights. I was excited for the journey ahead and eager to see where it would take me.

The end-of-semester party at Oxford was the event everyone had been looking forward to. It was held at a grand hotel, a place known for its opulent decor and lavish events. The hotel stood tall and regal, with its stone façade and large glass windows reflecting the city lights. As we approached, I could hear the soft strains of music floating out from the ballroom, the distant hum of voices and laughter filling the night air.

The entrance was adorned with elegant drapes and twinkling lights, leading into a grand foyer where guests were mingling, dressed in their finest. The ceiling was high, with elaborate chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow over the entire space. The floor was polished to a mirror-like shine, reflecting the movements of the guests as they moved about, greeting friends and lecturers alike.

I had chosen a long, flowing evening gown for the occasion. It was a deep emerald green that complemented my skin tone and brought out the color of my eyes. The dress had a delicate lace overlay that added an air of sophistication, and it cinched at the waist to give me a flattering silhouette. I wore my hair in loose curls that cascaded over my shoulders, and my makeup was subtle but accentuated my features. A pair of silver heels completed the look, adding just the right amount of sparkle.

As I stepped into the ballroom, the environment was alive with energy. A live band was playing soft jazz, adding a touch of elegance to the evening. People were chatting, laughing, and dancing on the grand dance floor at the center of the room. The lecturers were there too, dressed in their finest, mingling with students and colleagues.

The decorations were exquisite. The tables were adorned with white linens and elaborate centerpieces, and the walls were lined with ornate tapestries. The hotel staff moved gracefully among the guests, serving hors d'oeuvres and champagne. The entire scene felt like something out of a fairytale, a perfect setting to celebrate the end of a long semester.

I moved through the crowd, greeting my friends and exchanging pleasantries with my lecturers. It was a night to remember, a moment of relaxation and celebration after months of hard work and intense study. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits, and the music provided the perfect backdrop for an evening of fun and camaraderie.

The host of the party stepped onto the stage, tapping the microphone to get everyone’s attention. The room fell into a quiet murmur, then silence as all eyes turned toward the stage. The moment everyone had been waiting for—the announcement of the "Main Girl" of the batch, the one who excelled in academics and co-curricular activities—was finally here. The tension was palpable, the air buzzing with anticipation. Everyone was hoping to hear their name called, and you could feel the excitement mixed with nervousness throughout the grand ballroom.

I wasn’t expecting much, so I was busily chatting with my friends, enjoying the night. It was a party, after all, and I was here to celebrate the end of a long semester. But then, suddenly, I heard my name. It took me a moment to register what had just happened. Was that really my name? I turned to see everyone looking at me, their eyes filled with surprise and admiration. The applause started slowly, then grew louder, echoing through the ballroom. People were cheering and clapping for me, their voices filled with genuine joy.

I was in disbelief. I stood, my legs feeling wobbly as if they might give out beneath me. The cheers grew louder, and my friends rushed to my side, hugging me tightly. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, the emotion of the moment washing over me. It was overwhelming, but in the best way possible.

As I hugged my friends, I glanced across the room and saw Mr. Na standing in the corner among the other lecturers. He was clapping for me, his smile wide and genuine. There was a look of pride on his face, a mix of happiness and satisfaction that warmed my heart. I felt a surge of gratitude, knowing that his encouragement and guidance had played a significant role in my success.

I made my way to the stage, still in a daze from all the attention. The host handed me a small crown, a symbol of my achievement, and I bowed in front of everyone, feeling the heat of the spotlight. The applause was deafening, but it felt like the perfect culmination of all my hard work. I had worked tirelessly throughout the semester, and now I was being recognized for it. The cheers, the clapping, the smiles—it was a moment I would never forget.

The party ended with a burst of applause and cheers, the ballroom slowly emptying as students and lecturers headed back to their dorms. The energy of the evening had been palpable, but now it was time to say goodbye and pack for the summer holidays, which started the next day. The hotel lobby was filled with laughter and goodbyes, everyone sharing stories from the night and making plans to meet up during the break.

I waved goodbye to my friends, hugging them and kissing them on the cheek, thanking them for one of the best nights of my life. "This was amazing," Emily said, squeezing me tightly. "We'll have to do it again soon!" I nodded, feeling a mix of excitement for the holidays and sadness that the semester had come to an end. It felt like a chapter closing, with so much more yet to be written.

Some of my friends were waiting for me, asking if I wanted to walk back with them to the dorms. I appreciated the offer, but I had other plans. "I need to use the bathroom," I said with a sheepish smile. "I think I drank a little too much tonight." They laughed, waving me off and heading toward the exit.

The hallway leading to the restrooms was quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling ballroom. The lights were dimmer here, casting soft shadows on the walls. As I made my way to the restroom, I passed a few lingering partygoers, their laughter fading into the distance as they left. It was a moment of solitude after a night filled with noise and celebration, and I welcomed the brief silence.

Inside the restroom, the sound of running water echoed off the tiles, a soothing white noise after the chaos of the party. I took a moment to collect myself, splashing some cool water on my face to calm my nerves. It had been an incredible night, filled with unexpected surprises and moments I knew I'd cherish forever. The memory of the announcement, the cheers, and the crown made me smile. But now, it was time to return to reality and prepare for the journey ahead.

As I washed my hands, the soothing sound of running water helped to calm my nerves after the night’s festivities. But then I heard the chatter of a group of girls entering the restroom. The voices were familiar, but I tried to push the recognition aside. I knew exactly who they were—the same group that had been giving me dirty looks earlier at the party.

I quickly grabbed my bag and headed toward the exit, hoping to avoid any confrontation. But as I turned the corner, I bumped into them, nearly knocking one of them over. It was the same girl, the one who had tried to outshine me in front of Mr. Na, the one with the revealing outfits and the fake smiles. Her friends crowded around her, their expressions already set to mock me.

"Well, well, well," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Look who it is. The 'Main Girl' herself." Her friends laughed, nodding in agreement.

I tried to ignore them, to keep my composure, but it was hard. The words stung, each one like a sharp needle pricking my skin. I decided to fight back with a simple comeback. "Just shove all your jealousy up your ass, instead do something better? something like getting better on your academic performances, yeah?" I said, looking her straight in the eye. It was a small victory, but it seemed to hit a nerve. Some of the girls glared at me, while others whispered angrily among themselves.

The main girl pretended to keep her cool, but I could see the anger in her eyes. She hated that I had the spotlight, that I had earned the admiration of our lecturers, especially Mr. Na. It was a constant reminder of her failure to stand out, and she couldn’t hide her resentment.

One of the girls in her group was holding a cup of iced chocolate. Before I could react, she flung it at me, the cold liquid splashing across my dress, my hair, and my face. The others burst into laughter, their voices echoing off the bathroom tiles. I closed my eyes in embarrassment, feeling the sticky mess dripping down my dress. It was humiliating. The beautiful gown I had chosen for the night was ruined, and my hair was a tangled, chocolate-covered mess.

The laughter grew louder, the girls enjoying my discomfort. I felt a surge of anger and shame, but I knew that reacting would only give them more satisfaction. I opened my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to keep my composure despite the overwhelming humiliation. It was one of the worst moments I had ever experienced, and I knew it would be etched in my memory for a long time.

The laughter and mockery filled the restroom as the cold, sticky chocolate dripped from my hair and dress. The girls continued to sneer, their eyes gleaming with a mix of cruelty and triumph. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, but beneath the humiliation, I felt a surge of anger bubbling to the surface.

I bent down and grabbed the half-empty cup of iced chocolate from the floor. Without hesitating, I threw it back at the main girl, the contents splashing across her shirt and into her hair. Her eyes widened in shock, her mouth forming a perfect "O" as she staggered backward, hitting the wall. Her friends gasped, their mocking laughter turning to disbelief.

I didn't wait to see her reaction. I stormed out of the bathroom, my footsteps echoing in the hallway as I rushed toward the exit. My heart was pounding, a mix of adrenaline and indignation fueling my steps. I could still hear the girls' voices behind me, now raised in anger and surprise, but I didn't look back. I had given them a taste of their own medicine, and I wasn't about to stick around for the aftermath.

As I pushed through the door and into the hotel lobby, the cool air hit my face, a refreshing contrast to the heat of my anger. I knew I would have to deal with the consequences later, but at that moment, all I wanted was to put as much distance between myself and those girls as possible. It was a relief to be away from their toxic presence, even if it meant walking through the lobby covered in chocolate and embarrassment.

I took a deep breath, focusing on the warmth of the party and the support of my friends, reminding myself that I had earned my place at Oxford. No amount of mockery or bullying could take that away from me. I was determined to hold my head high, even as I left the hotel, the night air offering a sense of calm after the storm.

I was glad to find a quiet corner in the hotel lobby where I could clean up the mess from the iced chocolate. It was a small alcove behind a decorative pillar, and I felt relieved that no one had seen me storming out of the restroom. My bag had a pack of wet tissues, thankfully, and I pulled out several to wipe away the sticky mess on my dress and hair. The chocolate had splattered everywhere, and I was trying to salvage what I could without making things worse.

As I was cleaning up, I heard a voice call my name with a hint of curiosity. It was deep and husky, the kind of voice that could make anyone stop in their tracks. I looked up, and there he was—Mr. Na. My breath caught in my throat. I was in disbelief. Why now, of all times?

He was dressed in a sleek black tuxedo that fit him perfectly. His black hair was slicked back, giving him a polished and sophisticated look, yet his eyes were soft and kind, with a hint of worry. He looked at me with an expression that was both gentle and concerned, as if he was unsure of what he had just walked into.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low and gentle. It was the kind of voice that could ease anyone's nerves, but at that moment, I felt a rush of embarrassment. Of all people to find me in this state, why did it have to be him?

I stood there, holding the damp tissues, my face flushed and my heart racing. I could see the reflection of the chandelier lights in his eyes, and it made him look even more striking. His tuxedo was impeccably tailored, emphasizing his broad shoulders and trim waist. Despite the sophistication of his attire, his gaze conveyed genuine concern, as if he truly cared about what had happened.

I tried to smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace. "Yeah, I'm fine," I said, my voice shaky. "Just a little accident, that's all." I gestured to my chocolate-stained dress, trying to play it off, but it was hard to hide the embarrassment.

Mr. Na took a step closer, his eyes scanning the scene. "Are you sure? That looks like more than just a little accident," he said, his tone soft but firm. "Do you need any help? Maybe a jacket to cover up or something?" His concern was genuine, and it made me feel both grateful and self-conscious at the same time. I knew he was trying to be kind, but his presence only made me feel more aware of my disheveled state.

I pushed my hair back, trying not to cry from the sheer humiliation of it all. My hands were still damp from the wet tissues, and my heart was racing. I kept my eyes down, focusing on the chocolate-stained fabric of my dress to avoid meeting his gaze. I didn’t want him to see the embarrassment in my eyes, or worse, the tears threatening to spill over.

“It’s fine, really,” I said, trying to sound casual, but my voice cracked slightly. I was still in disbelief that it was Mr. Na standing there, concerned about me. This was the same Mr. Na who was fierce and strict during lectures, who could command a room with a single word. But now, he was completely different, his demeanor soft and caring.

He took a step closer, his expression gentle but still filled with worry. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and soothing. “It’s okay if you’re not. I can help you find something to cover up, or we can find someone to give you a ride home.” His kindness felt almost surreal, given how he usually commanded respect with his strictness and high expectations in the classroom.

I shook my head, trying to muster a reassuring smile. “Really, it’s fine,” I said, my cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. “It’s just a little mishap, that’s all. I can handle it.” I didn’t want him to go out of his way to help me, not when I was feeling so vulnerable and exposed.

But he didn’t seem convinced. His eyes lingered on my chocolate-stained dress, then returned to my face, where he seemed to read the emotions I was trying to hide. It was strange to see him like this, so different from the stern lecturer I was used to. His voice was calm and understanding, his usual intensity replaced by a softness that made me feel like I could trust him.

Mr. Na looked at me with concern, then glanced at my chocolate-stained dress. He hesitated for a moment, then without a word, he removed his jacket and gently draped it over my shoulders, covering the worst of the mess. I felt the warmth of the fabric and the comforting scent of his cologne. It made me feel a little more secure, even as my eyes welled up with tears. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but the anger and humiliation were hard to contain.

He gestured for me to follow him, his touch light but guiding. "Come on," he said softly. "Let's find a place where you can clean up." He led me away from the crowded parts of the hotel, toward a quieter bathroom in a different wing. It wasn't the same one where I had encountered those mean girls, which was a relief.

He waited outside while I cleaned up, his presence a calming influence in the otherwise empty corridor. I used the wet tissues to wipe the chocolate off my face and attempted to tidy my hair as best as I could. The stain on my dress was mostly hidden under his jacket, but I could still feel the sticky residue on my skin. It was uncomfortable, but knowing that he was just outside made it easier to deal with.

When I stepped out, Mr. Na smiled gently. "Feeling better?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. I nodded, trying to keep my emotions in check. I didn't want to break down in front of him, not after he'd been so kind to me.

He led me back to the hotel lobby, which was now almost deserted. It was late, and most of the guests had already left. I glanced outside, hoping to find a taxi, but the streets were empty. Mr. Na noticed my hesitation and offered, "I can give you a ride home if you need it. It's no trouble."

I hesitated, not wanting to impose, but the thought of walking back alone in my current state was daunting. "Are you sure?" I asked, trying to hide my excitement. He was my crush, after all, the one I had fallen out of love with, or so I thought. But now, those old feelings seemed to be resurfacing, and I could feel my heart racing.

"Of course," he replied with a reassuring smile. "It's the least I can do. Besides, I'd feel better knowing you got home safely." His words were simple, but they carried a weight of sincerity that made me feel at ease. I nodded and agreed to the ride, my excitement bubbling beneath the surface.

As we walked toward his car, I couldn't help but think about how much had changed. I thought I had moved on from my crush on him, but now, it felt like those feelings were emerging again, stronger than ever. It was a mixture of excitement and nerves, a reminder that sometimes, even when you think you've moved on, the heart has a way of finding its own path.

The car was immaculate, with a faint scent of leather and a hint of cologne, matching the scent of his jacket. I slid into the passenger seat, feeling the coolness of the upholstery against my skin. It was a luxurious vehicle, clearly well-maintained, reflecting his meticulous nature.

Mr. Na got in on the driver’s side and started the engine, the soft purr breaking the silence of the night. The dashboard lights cast a gentle glow, illuminating his face in a way that made his features stand out even more. The air inside the car was warm, a stark contrast to the cool night outside.

As he drove through the mostly empty streets, I felt a mix of emotions. Part of me was still embarrassed about what had happened, but another part was grateful for his kindness. The soft music playing on the car radio, combined with the gentle motion of the car, created a surprisingly relaxing atmosphere. I kept glancing at him out of the corner of my eye, trying not to be obvious, but he seemed focused on the road, his expression calm and composed.

“Do you live far from here?” he asked, breaking the comfortable silence. His voice was gentle, lacking the sternness he often had during lectures.

“Not too far,” I replied, giving him directions. I felt a bit nervous, unsure of what to say or how to act. This was my strict lecturer, the one who usually commanded the classroom with an iron will, yet here he was, giving me a ride home like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The conversation was light and casual as we drove through the quiet streets. He asked about my studies and how I was planning to spend my summer holidays. I answered with simple responses, still trying to gauge the situation. There was something about the way he spoke, the softness in his tone, that made me feel at ease despite the awkward circumstances.

As we approached my dorm, I pointed out the building. Mr. Na pulled up to the entrance and parked the car. Before I could thank him, he turned to me with a smile that seemed to light up the dimly lit interior.

“I’m glad I could help,” he said, his eyes meeting mine with a gentle gaze. “If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I want to make sure my students are taken care of.”

His words were kind, but they also carried a weight that I couldn’t quite define. I thanked him, my heart racing from the unexpected kindness and the warmth of his smile.

But just as I was about to step out, he reached across and gently pulled my hand. His touch was light but firm enough to stop me from leaving. The sudden contact sent a jolt through my system, my heart skipping a beat as I looked at him in surprise. There was something in his eyes—an intensity I hadn’t seen before.

“Wait,” he said, his voice low and steady, but I could hear the underlying tension. He didn’t let go of my hand, his fingers wrapped gently around mine. The moment felt electric, the air between us charged with something I couldn’t quite define.

I was in disbelief. What was he doing? This was Mr. Na, the stern lecturer who was always so composed, so in control. And now, he was holding my hand, looking at me with an expression that seemed to speak volumes. The tension between us was palpable, the space within the car suddenly feeling much smaller.

“There’s something I need to say,” he continued, his eyes locked on mine. His grip on my hand tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to let me know he was serious. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I can’t ignore it anymore.”

My mind raced. What was he talking about? Was he about to say what I thought he was going to say? The possibility seemed impossible, yet the intensity in his gaze suggested otherwise. I could feel my pulse quickening, my breath catching in my throat. This wasn’t just a casual conversation—it was something more, something that could change everything.

“I like you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “More than just as a student. I know this is unexpected, but I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer.” His words hung in the air, the silence that followed heavy with anticipation.

I was stunned, my mind struggling to process what he had just said. My first reaction was disbelief—this couldn’t be real. But his eyes were sincere, and the way he held my hand suggested that he meant every word. I felt a rush of emotions—confusion, excitement, uncertainty—all swirling together in a dizzying whirlwind.

“What?” I finally managed to say, my voice shaky. It was all I could think of, my thoughts racing too quickly to form coherent sentences. The tension between us was almost unbearable, the space in the car feeling like it was closing in. I knew that whatever I said next would have consequences, that this was a moment that couldn’t be taken back.

Mr. Na waited, his gaze unwavering, his grip on my hand a constant reminder of the connection between us. I had no idea what to do or say, but I knew that this was a turning point—one that would change everything.

He held my hand, his grip gentle but firm, and I could feel the rising tension between us. His eyes were soft yet intense, conveying a mix of emotions I couldn't quite decipher. He took a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I appreciate the way you appreciate my hard work," he said, his words measured but filled with sincerity. "I know I can be strict in class, but you were always fully focused. You worked hard, and it showed in your academic performance." His eyes never left mine, and I could feel my heart racing as he continued. "And the way you smile when I pull out those silly jokes during lessons—it flutters my heart. It really does."

I stared at him in disbelief and nervousness. This was the same Mr. Na who commanded respect in the classroom, and yet here he was, speaking to me like we were equals. It was almost surreal, the way his demeanor shifted from stern to affectionate. The tension in the car grew, a palpable charge in the air, and I knew he was waiting for my response.

He hesitated, as if unsure of how to proceed. "I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable," he said, his voice softening. "But we're not that far apart in age, and I just started my career as a lecturer earlier than most. I don't want to pressure you, so if you can't agree with my feelings, just ignore what I said. We can just stay as—" He didn't get to finish his sentence.

I leaned in and kissed him. At first, it was gentle, almost tentative, but then it grew more intense, our lips pressing firmly together. His surprise melted into warmth as he responded, the kiss becoming deeper, more passionate. The tension between us exploded into a rush of emotion, and I could feel the heat building as our kiss grew steamy.

We pulled away, both of us breathless, our faces close, our eyes locked. He smiled, his expression a mix of joy and relief. It was clear we both knew the signs—this wasn't just a fleeting moment. We liked each other, and the kiss had confirmed it.

He chuckled, breaking the silence. "I think you might need to take a shower," he said, gesturing to the chocolate stains on my dress. I laughed, the sound filled with warmth, and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"Thanks again," I said, my voice filled with gratitude. "I'll see you soon."

"Goodnight," he replied, his smile never fading.

I stepped out of the car and waved goodbye, watching as he waited until I entered my apartment building. The night had taken a surprising turn, and as I made my way to my room, I knew that this was just the beginning of a story I couldn't wait to see unfold.

[faytelumos]

Into the Black With a Matchstick, pt 6

Did I go back to Part 5 and ruthlessly change a pronoun to fit my last-last second change-of-mind on a new character?

Yes. Yes I did.

@c00kieknight, @hypersomnia-insomniac, @infuryborn, @jxm-1up, @kittilumpo

@midnight--architect, @robinparravel, @theo-in-the-toaster, @thepotatoofnopes, @those-damn-snippets

@mr-orion, @rfallfish, @tildeathiwillwrite, @thelazywitchphotographer

first previous

---

When Adina had first woken up after the jump away from the Skel, she had been too confused as to where she was to even stand. She had expected to see the bunkbeds from the training facility, to look around and see blue, concrete walls, to see Patricia in the bed to her left.

Instead, she was in a claustrophobic, cold medbay, with John seemingly dumped over the gurney next to her, facing her, his hand slipped off from the drip control of her IV. It had taken her twenty minutes to climb out of bed, and she'd let John sleep.

She ran ship-wide diagnostics, checked the status and population of the stasis chamber, and was halfway through double-checking inventory when there had been an unsettling, crackling sound over the PA system. For a horrible moment, she expected to see a Xenomorph slowly creeping around the corner towards her.

"Doctor Adina Ramirez," the computer had said. But then it didn't elaborate. Which just creeped her out even more.

"Y-yes?" she'd uttered, looking around, the vacuum-sealed peanut butter and jelly meal in her hand the only weapon she had to defend herself with.

"This is the Ghost from the Arkinu vessel speaking," the computer had said. Adina blinked, looking to the hallways, then behind herself, then at the speaker above the door. "It is nice to meet you."

"Uh," she uttered. "You… too. I didn't realize you could transmit into our PA system."

"I am actually tapped directly into your computer," it said. "I am aboard."

Adina froze. That was the creepiest thing yet.

"Can I show myself to you?" it asked. It spoke in the familiar voice of the computer control, but it didn't match the cadence or word choice. She briefly considered how unwise it was to say yes. But then she was more scared of what would happen if she said no.

"Okay," she uttered, her voice trembling.

She waited. It took her a long moment to notice the hallway was glowing slowly brighter with a faint, blueish light. And then a floating, sheer… blob filled the hallway.

It looked like water with some milk splashed in, just enough to fog it up. But her brain told her that if she touched it, it would feel like chiffon or fine lace. There were tiny sparkles of light suspended in it, like fruit chunks in jello, or like glitter in plastic, and they faded in and out gradually as it moved closer.

"Wow," she breathed, taking a step back. Whatever it was, it was big. It had come into the room now, but it still filled the hallway, too.

"I hope my countenance does not distress you," the computer said. Adina huffed a laugh, smirking, looking up and down and through the thing.

"Be not afraid," she muttered to herself. She leaned forward, trying to peer into it as curiosity started to win out. She couldn't see any organs, or any solid internal structures at all, for that matter. Was this thing like a jellyfish? It seemed a bit more like a huge amoeba. But there was no way something so big — and so intelligent — was single-celled. Or was there? Who was she to say what limits there were on life? She was in outer space traveling faster than the speed of light, and this was the third intelligent species of alien she'd met today, and it was talking to her through her ship's computer in perfect English. "Wow," she breathed.

"Are you well?" it asked. Adina nodded, putting a hand on her cheek.

"I'm good," she said. "I, I actually have a lot of questions."

"Please, ask."

Adina nodded, fidgeting with the meal pack, deciding where to start.

"You're a Ghost?" she asked.

"Yes."

"As in the spirit of a living thing?"

"No," it said. "That is… a translation inconsistency." It shimmered, the little lights suspended in its body rippling in waves. Adina took a slight step away, eyes wide with awe. "You do not have a good word for my kind," it said. "But for your sake, perhaps a better word to use would be, 'robot'."

"A robot?" Adina muttered, touching her fingertips to her lip. Then her eyes blew wide. "So you're not organic?"

"Partially correct," it said. "Technically speaking, my kind are silicate-based lifeforms."

"Woah," Adina breathed. This blew everything she knew out of the water. Theoretically speaking, complex silicon-based molecules like DNA would be more stable at high temperatures, far too high to be standing in the room with the thing right now. Was that part of why it seemed so ephemeral? But then wouldn't that make it even less stable? But clearly, it was fine at this temperature, so maybe her understanding of chemistry was wrong? Or just ignorant. And were they robots because they used silicon instead of carbon like a microchip, or was there more to it? And what was the line it was crossing between robot and lifeform? Did they eat? Reproduce? Were they more like nanite colonies? Was that an ignorant conclusion to draw? What did it mean anyway by robo—

A sliver of shape slipped towards her, like a tiny tentacle pushing out of a thin membrane to reach for her.

"Would you like to touch me?" the computer asked.

Adina looked down at the offered… appendage. It wasn't very dense with the lights, or even very opaque. She rubbed her fingers on her palm, the vacuum-packed meal heavy in her other hand, gauging how clean her skin was.

"I have oils, on my skin," she said. She looked up, but with no eyes, it was difficult for her to find a point to look at it. "Some species, even on our planet, find human touch to be caustic…."

"You will not hurt me," it said, reaching slightly further out. "And I will not hurt you." Adina nodded, then looked again to the appendage, which was easier to focus on than the mass of tiny lights suspended in the hallway and most of the room.

She set the food down, and then slowly reached out with both hands, cupping them together. The Ghost reached down in a smooth arc, and it laid a length of the little tentacle across her palms. It was light as air, almost too light to feel. She carefully held it with one hand, and then caressed the length of the tentacle with her other pointer finger. It was dry and smooth, and she pet it again, trying to figure out its texture. It was difficult to tell. She gently ran the back of her finger over it, but the hairs on her skin didn't help.

"Do you, ah," she uttered, and then she looked up at no part of it in particular, "do you mind if I touch you with my lip? I won't bite you, but there's a chance that I have germs—"

"I cannot contract organic diseases," it assured her. Then it moved, sliding the appendage up along its surface smoothly, until it was level with her mouth. She blinked, then leaned forward and grasped it gently. She rubbed it slowly against her bottom lip.

It was completely and utterly smooth. Moreso than hairless skin, than polished stone, than glass. It almost didn't make sense. She blinked, marveling, and carefully let go.

"Wow," she said again.

"I have questions of you, as well," it said.

---

Rest had concluded, and Paxie considered Gunnery Sergeant Appi's words carefully.

"Popular opinion on my planet would dictate that you do not trust these people," she said in her rasping voice. Her environment suit was thin for casual wear around the ship, and the translation protocol speaker was as crisp and clear as any. "The end of their legacy is nothing but war machines and poisons in the land itself."

"You think these Humans are from that time?" Paxie asked. Appi lowered her nose, her large eyes sharp.

"Based on what I could see of their ship, yes. The construction resembles one of their more formidable weapon-vehicles."

"Do you have any record of an ideological shift?" Paxie asked. They didn't want to believe Ramirez and Harrison were war-like. They seemed nice, despite their self-abuse.

"Their archeological record is full of weapons for thousands of years," Appi rasped. She flexed her claws subtly, but Paxie could see the agitation she was trying to hide. "Admittedly, it is difficult to decompress their legacy. But, Admiral…" Appi looked directly into Paxie's eyes. "This species was the sixth major extinction event of our planet."

Paxie resisted the strong desire to pin their ears. It was their job to know and accept the facts. But this was an ugly revelation. They had hoped the Human people were a miracle, a sample of the past so distant it could only be extraordinary. But according to Appi… they were destruction.

Perhaps Paxie should have expected as much, with the way they treat their own bodies.

"Thank you, Gunnery Sergeant," Paxie uttered with a nod. "Your insight is deeply informative."

"I'm sorry it's so morose," Appi said, nodding back. "I know this is an awkward situation."

And it was. If Humans were going to be harmful to the Federation or any planet they were hosted on, then it would be better not to offer them citizenship. But if they were legally an orphaned species, then the Federation had no choice but to home them.

This was exactly Uten's luck. They were never going to get a second chance at First Contact.

"I appreciate your candor," Paxie uttered. Appi flicked one ear.

"Speaking of…" she said. Paxie perked their ears. "This species, though long extinct, does represent a significant keystone in our planet's behavioral sciences," she said. "If it isn't too bold or unorthadox, I would like to meet them."

Paxie nodded. "I'm sure we can arrange that," they said. "They may be curious of you, as well."

"I'm sure," Appi rasped.

---

There was nothing special to do to prepare for jump to end, apparently. Adina was expecting to have to buckle in, but it seemed all she and John had to do was brace a little bit. After a moment, everything seemed to tug to the left and keep moving, as if they were set down on some slow-moving track. And then it was over. The deafening, unnerving stillness was gone now. It had been so long that Adina had convinced herself it was part of space travel.

John delicately maneuvered the ship to dock properly with The Water's Kiss as Adina went down to decouple the resuspended pods. She… wasn't looking forward to it. But it had to be her. Because John was close friends with one of the unresponsive engineers.

She stepped into the stasis chamber and stopped. She had seen this place before, of course, when she climbed out of her pod earlier. But she wasn't exactly properly aware of her surroundings at that point. And before that, everyone had climbed into their pods in the big research building on Earth. So she'd never gotten the chance to truly familiarize herself with the real thing.

The pods were arranged in a honeycomb pattern, and several motorized platforms could move side-to-side and up or down to handle each pod as they were carefully ejected. Either during wakeup, or during… removal. Adina climbed onto one of the platforms and looked up and across, spotting the six lights that winked a slow, desolate red.

The two xenobiologists happened to be nearer the door. Everyone was arranged alphabetically, but these two both had D names. Adina got the platform in place and locked it with the stiff lever before turning to the first pod.

"RESUSPENDED" it said across the screen at the feet of the pod. It was a polite way of saying, "Died on wakeup, but at least they're frozen again now." Adina really hoped these aliens had tech like Star Trek, and could just revive people with a couple pleasant clicks and beeps. She used the screen to shift the power from ship-side to battery-side, keeping an eye on the switch that would do so manually if the computer had trouble. But there was no issue. A low-pitched beep signaled the change, and another beep declared the systems were running properly off of the new power source.

Adina grabbed the big release lever for the pod and forced it down with a grunt. The pod trembled, but was otherwise fine. She took up the grab bar around the bottom of the control panel and slid the pod out, mindful of the wheels that automatically folded out as it got closer to the end. She locked the wheels once it was in a good position on the platform, then moved on to the next pod.

By the time she had locked the fourth pod in place, John had docked with the Xoixe ship and the xenomedics were on board. She had paused for this pod, reading the name again. This one was John's friend.

Thinking about it… they didn't want to try to revive him first. The first attempt was the most likely to fail. But that also meant they couldn't risk the two xenobiologists. They should probably both go last, in fact. Then there was another engineer, and another biologist. Both of them were better trained and qualified in their fields than Adina and John, which was why the computer had tried to wake them up, first. Adina let out a shaking sigh, bracing her hands on the grab bar.

Raj Joshi. She'd read earlier that his GPA in university had been .2 higher than John's. It was probably why he had been picked first. She didn't want to think about how John could be mentally punishing himself right now, especially if the aliens couldn't revive him….

"Captain Ramirez?"

Adina looked behind herself suddenly. Paxie was in the room with her, standing upright on two thick legs. They looked a bit like a bear, or maybe a tiger, the way they held their arms. Adina hadn't realized their hips could make the adjustment to standing upright. Paxie blinked their four eyes at her, which were currently about level with her shins. She blinked back, marveling at just how big the Xoixe was.

"Yes?" she managed, unimpressively.

"Do you require assistance with this task?" Paxie asked. Their voice was… soft. Still deep and throaty, but gentle. They weren't looking at any of the pods.

She looked to the pod array again. Once she loaded Raj, she'd just have the one left.

"N-no," she said. She turned and met Paxie's eyes. "Thank you."

"Do you require company?" they asked.

She watched them, surprised by their gentle tone and how steadily they held themself on two legs. Faintly, she wondered why the Xoixe bothered walking on all fours if bipedalism was an option.

"That might be nice," she finally said.

---

It took multiple trips to get the pods onto the Water's Kiss. Once they were gathered in a small atrium, Paxie asked John to come out, too. Adina watched him closely as he stood away from the pods. He wasn't looking at any of them, which was probably for the best. He had him arms crossed tightly beside her as he watched Paxie.

"As you know, we were able to locate your planet in our current star maps, accounting for celestial drift," they said. Adina and John nodded. The Ghost had said that much, at least. But they were a bit more tight-lipped about the rest of it. "The planet that you lived on is now known by the name Areterra." Adina felt a swell of relief in her chest. Earth was still okay? Maybe they could get back to it. "However," Paxie said, and Adina almost shied away. It sounded like a very heavily loaded "however." "Areterra was able to produce a second space-fairing species after your kind went extinct."

Oh.

Humans had gone extinct, then.

They were truly the last of their kind?

And she was in charge of them.

26 million years…. It had really been 26 million years.

She felt light-headed. John looked down to her, concerned.

"This complicates the matter," Paxie explained. They were using that soft voice again. "There will need to be a meeting and case to decide which jurisdiction your people fall into, and how any future repopulation will be handled." Adina nodded, trying to take deep breaths. She was tired of fighting against her stomach. "For now," Paxie said, their tone kind as ever, "I wanted to introduce you to Gunnery Sergeant Appi, a Mauilen. I hope you will all find kinship in a shared planet."

Adina took another long breath and looked up to Paxie. Then she looked down, following their gaze to a small alien she hadn't noticed earlier—

Adina gasped, grabbing John's arm suddenly, eliciting a hiss from him. Adina didn't know exactly what sound was trying to escape from her throat right now, but she was sure it was a squeal.

Standing in front of them, at no taller than a two year old, was a big-eyed, wide-pawed, thick-furred cat in an environment suit.

"Oh my God," Adina whispered.

"No way," John breathed.

What kind of cat was it? How did it evolve to still be so recognizable over such a long stretch of time? Its coloring was whitish-gray with heavy black peppering around the eyes and speckled up the forehead - snowmelt camouflage? Its paws were broad like a lynx or a Pallas' cat, or a snow leopard. But with the suit on, Adina couldn't see any details of its morphology.

She realized she was staring. She let go of John and crouched down slowly.

"Sorry," she said, keeping her voice soft. "I just… our people, we.… we called you cats in our day."

Appi moved slightly. Maybe their ears moved under their helmet.

"We existed in your time?" they asked. Adina blinked, thrown off by the rasping, direct tone of voice. It was still high-pitched to her, still clearly from a small throat. But the authority in that voice was unmistakable.

"Uh, er, not you, exactly," she explained. She cleared her throat, aware that she was using a voice she might employ in a conversation with a child. No, she should treat this creature like any other scientist. "We had many species of feline - that is, a Family of carnivores with similar traits." John got down, too, squatting and resting both of his elbows on his knees. Appi looked between the two of them, and Adina caught sight of their pupils contracting and expanding. "The ones most, uh, humans were familiar with were… companions."

"What were they like?" Appi asked. They looked Adina in the eye. It stole her breath a little. Those eyes, they were huge. And there was something deeply, hauntingly intelligent about them. There was something she badly wanted to label as "human" to them.

"They were wonderful," Adina muttered. She blinked slowly. "For a lot of us, their company was more of a comfort than another human's."

Appi considered this with a twitch of their lip. They looked away from Adina, to John.

"You have a different opinion?"

Adina looked at John. He had his lips pursed behind the helmet. Adina widened her eyes, bracing for something awful.

"I… never met a cat I got along with."

Adina scowled. Appi nodded their head, lowering their chin and evaluating John. Their look was decidedly shrewd.

"We'll see if I break your streak, then," they rumbled quietly.

Adina got a chill down her back. She mentally shook herself. It had been millions and millions of years. The fact that this creature even looked like a cat was an anomaly. She should know, as a biologist, that she had no way to predict this animal's — this person's — behavior or thought patterns.

She half-listened as Paxie explained how things would go from this point. To say she was reeling was a gross understatement. Maybe she shouldn't have been. It hadn't been confirmed, but she'd known this was possible. That they were all that was left. That humanity had gone extinct and were every bit as history now as the dinosaurs had been.

They got the resuspended pods into the ship's medbay with the help of several more aliens. Nobody had asked John to help, which Adina was glad for. He stood in the hall as Kime and another alien stood together, likely gathering personal data from the pods.

"How are you doing?" Adina asked softly. John just shook his head.

"I'm not worried about me right now," he sighed, rubbing his forehead. Adina nodded, looking down. She was. But she had to be. She was… wow, she was the matron to all of humanity right now.

"I'll see what I can do to help," she whispered, putting a hand on his arm. He nodded and patted her gloved fingers weakly. She stepped away, reluctant. But he didn't meet her eye, so she turned and went back into the alien medbay.

"Captain Ramirez," Kime asked.

"Yes?"

"Is it possible for us to have some yet-living subjects to study?" Adina blinked. The medbay was already a little crowded with this many. "Seeing their parameters may increase the odds of survival for these six."

"Oh, yes," Adina said, nodding. She blinked harder, frowning, looking down. "Yes, of course. That makes perfect sense." She should have thought of that when she was already in the stasis chamber.

"May I go with you?" a small, raspy voice said. Adina turned and looked down to see Appi standing close behind her. She smiled, and she fought back the urge to bend down and pick Appi up like a baby, or like her cats back home….

"Yes, please," Adina said. "I'd love the company."

[spyderlondon]

An au, where everyone’s memories are lost including the crew thinking they were ever real/humans when they got transported into the digital circus, they all think they are their respective characters and act as their characters personalities, heavily deviating from the ones in the show

Pomni a semi crazy goofy jester

Kinger…. A normal king

Jax, a helpful voice of reason(with a little southern accent)

And so on

A/N: .......evil Caine route? Evil Caine route. Definitely no showtime in this- it'd be far too toxic. There will be a referenced BunnyDoll though.

CW: Mind wiping, mental manipulation, puppeteeing unwilling participants, amnesia, loss of free will

Art by @00belle00lovely00

Pulling All the Strings

Ko-Fi

----

There was a small gasp then a groan as a small woman awoke in a dark room with no light visible aside from a small crack under, what she assumed, was a door, "Ugh... where-where am I...?" She mumbled quietly.

There was an almost unnoticeable dark chuckle from the corner of the room, "Seems my new puppet has awoken from her sleep~" A voice called out as she was forced onto her feet slowly and steadily as if strings were pulling her upwards against her will.

Her eyes widened in fear as she began struggling, attempting to get away. Only to feel her flesh being cut into by the invisible threads. She could only gasp in pain, "Let go! Let me [^^%*&^%] go, you ba-" She cried out as the strings seemed to yank against her neck, threatening to cut deep if she spoke another word.

Once the woman went silent and the figure seemed to feel slowly stop to struggle, he spoke up again, "They always struggle." He sighed as he on the strings once more before loosening them up, "Always struggle, almost always curse. You're all so... human." He hissed out 'human', sounding disgusted by the word. He went silent as he looked down at her, only his glowing narrowed eyes could be seen. It was as if he was examining her, judging her, figuring out who she was, "Hm, yes, you'd make a wonderful jester~" It sounded as if he was grinning, "Let me adjust your mind a tad..."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN AD- Ack!" She was silenced with another pull of the invisible string on her neck, drawing blood.

"Now, now, pet. You needn't worry about a thing..." A hand was placed on top of her head, forcing her to peer up into his heterochromatic eyes that began to quickly flash with dots and strobbing lights. She attempted to shut her eyes to avoid looking into his but that merely resulted in tiny strings taking her eyelids and forcing them open, "Do not look away from your new puppet master." He commanded with a low growl. She whimpered in fear as she had no choice but to submit to him, gazing into his flashing, wide eyes, "Good, my little jester~ Just stay like that..." He mumbled as watched the color from her eyes slowly dull from the bright violet coloration they once had and slowly had the colors separate into blue and red in a pinwheel pattern before her eyes were allowed to flutter shut.

------

"Pomni. Wake up. Time to prepare for the show." A voice spoke out, waking the jester from her sleep.

She rose as if booting up like a computer. She looked up at the floating figure in front of her with blank eyes for a moment as if registering who she was looking at- red coat... white under shirt... black pants... top hat... oh! "Hello! Caine!" She greeted as she jumped out of her bed with a bright, kind've unnatural smile on her face.

Caine hid a smirk as he watched the girl- his new puppet. His new 'AI' smile at him while rocking back and forth on her feet as if waiting orders from him. He hummed as he silently looked her up and down, admiring his work on the jester. She had a black and red color scheme unlike her blue and red eyes but her outfit had entirely changed- she had a hat on that completely covered her hair with the front part of it going down in between her eyes and barely going over the bridge of her nose with little yellow bells on the ends of the liliripes; she had a dark red vest with little purple jewels attached on the lapels; gray long sleeves that had cyan embroidery on it of some swirly patterns as well as the letters 'C&A' on the shoulders; she had dark blue and crimson gloves on her hands; her tights were black and red alternating zig zags; and her shoes were like her gloves dark blue and crimson.

The ringmaster rolled his shoulders a bit, "Hello, my dear." He mused as he greeted her, "I apologize for how I had to force you into sleep mode last night, you were just acting out too much. I had to reprogram you a bit." He explained with a feigned sigh of disappointment, "But, don't you worry, any injuries sustained were patched up Bubble!" He clapped his hands together as if everything was going as normal as always. Pomni's programming simply messed up and had to be fixed after!

"Oh! Sorry for whatever I messed up on, Ringmaster!" The jester apologized with a silly bow before glancing up at him to see him chuckling in amusement, brightening her mood up.

"Ah, it's all okay. No harm, no foul after all, my dear." He waved off, "But we mustn't stand here chatting! Jax and Ragatha's act should be over here soon! You are up next, my dear, the audience mustn't be kept waiting after all!" He urged her to get ready before he zipped off to check on the current act.

----

"You cannot see

How much I long to be free..."

A stiff looking rag doll was spinning on a large music box in the center of the main stage of the circus- she was dancing around as if she was nothing but a decoration on the mechanical contraption.

Near her was a purple rabbit with a yellow light jacket on top of a seafoam green shirt and dark yellow pants. He was moving and dancing around as if under control of an invisible puppetmaster, "Truly Scrumptious~" He sang towards the doll despite how she never glanced his way and remained ever turning, "And if I may seem presumptuous..." He danced over to the mirrors attached to the music box and looked at himself like it was choreographed... until he paused and stared himself in the mirror as if he saw a flaw on himself.

"Turning around-" The doll's eye subtly wandered towards the rabbit and noticed what he was doing, she could tell the audience and the now nearby Caine, were becoming suspicious by the rabbit's actions, "-on this music box that's..." She waited until she rotated closer to him before jolting a tiny to ram his face into the mirror, making him stumble a bit and looked around.

There was laughing from the audience and the rabbit went back to singing, "Never... never... ever..." He wandered back in front of the doll's music box where he saw a hand close to his and he couldn't but use his puppet like movements to get close to trying to give her hand a kiss.

"Wound by a key." Her moved upwards quickly, slapping one of his ears lightly- causing more laughter from the crowd.

"Go away." She made sure her arms and head moved in a perfect, robotic motion as she spun and tried to ignore the blush that tinted her cheeks a little when she saw him try to kiss her hand.

"Yearning..."

"My heart beats so unruly..." The bunny placed a hand on his chest and had it move like a heartbeat.

"Yearning..."

"Because I love you truly..." He opened his arms wide as if to get a hug from the doll.

"While I'm..." The doll sent him a small look that told him to 'stop it'.

"Honest, Truly..." The rabbit hugged himself instead.

"Turning around and around." She suddenly became frozen, the music box no longer turning.

"I do." He halfway flopped downwards, the tips of his ears barely touching the ground.

Once the music ended and there was a roar of cheering amongst the crowd, Caine popped in between two, "...meet me in my office after the show..." He ordered the two of them silently, his eyes glowing a bit as the two of them gave a quick nod before running backstage.

The ringmaster looked up to the audience, "Weren't they wonderful, audience?!" Everyone in the stands cheered loudly, "Hope our next act, the jester can impress us all just as much!" He roused up the crowd, getting them excited for the new jester.

The rag doll and rabbit stared in horror from behind the currents as they heard the announcement of a jester. The doll had to grip the rabbit to keep herself from letting her mask fall, not when another character was so close by, "He got a new person..." She mumbled under her breath, her voice trembling as she watched Pomni make her way up to where the trapeze platform were, "...we have no net to catch her if she falls..." Her face paled, "Jax..." Her grip tightened.

Jax put a hand on hers and tightened it a bit, "Caine can control her, she'll be fine, Rags..." He murmured to her, his own eyes never leaving the sight as well. Especially now that the jester had begun her performance.

-----

Song used in the fic: "Doll on a Music Box" from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

[priestessame]

Succubus 101

Aahhhhhh omg this is one brain rot I cannot get out of my head.

§.•´¨'°÷•..× 🎀 one shot 🎀 ×..•÷°'¨´•.§

Nerd Tartaglia x Novice Succubus reader

Summary: An unsuspecting Tartaglia accidentally summons a real succubus. Warnings: penetrative sex, slight awkwardness, choking, FLUFF, Tartaglia being pussy drunk, overstimulation, dirty talk. AFAB reader.Switch reader sub-Tartaglia, needy Tartaglia.

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Ajax dragged himself back to his room. Judging from the mess Scaramouche had left behind, it looked like even his emo roommate had things to do on a Friday night.

Childe tried not to overthink it. After all nothing wrong with solitude. And he was even looking forward to the time alone until he stepped inside. The empty room dawned on him, no matter how much he tried to cheer himself up he could press the bitterness of the situation down.

He looked over at his side, at one of his biochemistry textbooks lying open on his bed. Suddenly regretting not taking up the offer to go drinking with itto and the others, now that he knew exactly how his evening was going to play out.

Not long after he was already switching tabs, typing in the name of his go-to hentai site. Palming himself through his pants as he scrolled through the video icons. It wasn't new for him to spend the night pumping his cock watching some random hentai. It was almost routine to him at this point. It felt fucking great while jacking off, but by the time the high wore off, he just felt very alone.  After a few minutes of scrolling, he finally found a video he found somewhat appealing. Showing a lovely pink-haired anime girl, playfully flashing her breasts.

He groaned as the click instead made 3 other pop ups appear, sending him to random corners of the internet. With an annoyed grunt, he pulled his hand out of his pants.

He tried to find his way back to the porn site, but another click sent him to a pop-up article on how porn was harmful.

'Did you know that watching porn also can also cause you to lose all cerebral fluid??!' it said in bright yellow lettering.

"yeah sure." Ajax chuckled to himself, clicking away from the weird website. He should have gotten the new firewall system Albedo was telling him about. Maybe that way he could go back to watching hentai without all these damn pop ups.

"What now?" He complained aloud. The screen seemed to have gone completely blank. The white cursor froze on the screen.  He moved his mouse but the cursor remained where it was. Ajax felt a pit in his stomach, if his computer actually caught some virus right before the end sem- He clicked at the screen aggressively. Slamming random keys to get some kind of reaction. 

The computer screen glitched suddenly, with a sharp hiss that made him jump. The lights in the room flickered before going out with an eerie 'woosh'. For a few seconds, Ajax sat in the complete dark blinking.

The computer screen lit up, bathing his face in a red glow. Ajax brushed his curls from his face. The language on the screen was nothing like he has ever seen before. It had flickered on just as the room had darkened from the short circuit. White and red runes appearing out of nowhere. All placed around the screen in strange concentric patters. If he stared too long it felt as though they moved across the screen like some optic illusion.

His blue eyes peered over his glass, "what in the world… is that Enochian?" He murmured. At this point, Ajax had started to get a little scared. His ears rang, eyes playing tricks on him as he frantically tried to find the cursor. All he really wanted to do was get off this cursed ass site.

"Like the coding on that one? I did it myself!"

Ajax jumped violently, spinning around in the dark to see a figure sitting casually on his bed. With a gasp, Ajax slipped from his chair, landing on the floor hard. "What the actual fuck!" He cried out. You gave him no reaction, continuing to read through his textbook sheepishly.

"Biochemistry." You sighed laying down on your stomach, your tail flicking lazily, "honestly I would have preferred someone who was studying humanities."

He stared at you, "okay so I have lost all my cerebral fluid and gone completely mad."

You tilted your head to the side, "i don't think loss of cerebral fluid causes hallucinations though."

Ajax was still too much in a daze to hold a conversation with you, "All I fucking did was click that website, and it would cause a whole ass person to appear."

You pumped up your fist in the air, "I KNOW RIGHT?! it works!" You said, rolling on to your back, and kicking your legs happily. "God that's bound to get me an A, I mean not to brag but I might have just revolutionized the plane for succubi-human interactions!"

Right. A strange half-naked woman had suddenly appeared talking about demonic coding. And he still had his cock out. Ajax held up a hand, while furiously trying to zip up his undone pants.

"Okay hold up. So you're telling me you're a… Sex demon?" "A Succubus," you corrected him pointing at the little black horns on your head, Still, on the floor, Ajax gave out a hollow laugh, slapping his forehead, "there's a sex demon on my bed."

You frowned at him, "I'm a Succubus, it really isn't that uncommon of a word." Ajax continued to stare at you, now perched cross-legged on his bed. With your outfit, you looked more like an adult cosplayer than an actual demon. Firstly the small bat wings on your back were more cute than daunting. The black spade-tipped tail swished lazily. Your skirt god save him, was just perfect on you. The leather digging into your skin lightly. Ending right your mid-way thigh, with gorgeous slits down both sides. And the leather halter top had a heart cut out for your chest. Fuck they looked so soft-

He forced himself to look at your face. If it wasn't for that ominous Golden glow in your eyes, he would have thought you had walked out of one of his hentai videos. "With that outfit, you don't really look like a demon."

Your eyes slit, and the lights in the room flickered. The temperature around him dropped so suddenly that his ears popped. Your golden eyes flashed at him teasingly, "Wanna see proof?" You warned. Ajax felt his cock twitch at your tone. "Nope." He gulped, attempting to stand up.

He tried to get his brain working again. "So I summoned you? Through that website?" He asked. You smiled proudly, clearly very pleased with your academic endeavor, "that's right." He cocked his head to the side, a lopsided smile that meant trouble appearing on his face. "So that means we have a contract ?"

Your fingers fiddled with the hem of your skirt. "I was just testing out my website, but I guess it does."

You looked up at him, unable to keep the desire from pooling between your legs. You really liked this cute human before you, and you'd love to indulge him more. You patted the mattress beside you softly, watching him practically trip over himself trying to sit down. Ajax bit back a moan as you settled onto his lap. Warm core pressing up against his bulge.

His fingers rested on your skirt. Your breasts squished up against his chest. God he loved this outfit on you. He couldn't help but run his hands along your sides.

Ajax scratched his head, "So this is like your job?" "It's not my job" you snapped at him, "It's how I collect souls."

Ajax's face paled, cerulean eyes wide.

You gave out a soft giggle, "I'll make an exception this time." You promised, "after all.. your voice trailed off.

"You're kinda my first." You completed with a blush.

He arched an eyebrow "So you're a virgin succubus?"

You give him a pout, "you see, virginity as a construct is much more human than you realize, doesn't really apply to demons."

"I don't know, I thought you would have had some… Practicals." He said.

"T-that's not what they covered in class." You murmured.

"So what do they teach in succubus 101?"

You looked at him as if it was apparent "You know, consent and stuff!"

Ajax ran a hand through his hair, "Of course." Your thigh dug into his growing erection. "You know if you want… I mean now that I am here." You started, breasts almost aching with need. "I could you know, help you out?"

Ajax felt his mouth go dry. "You really want to?" His cerulean orbs drank in your curves, what he would give to actually be able to touch you. You grinned at him, sliding your hand down his abs over his aching cock. You leaned in close to his face, "I'd love to~"

He pulled you in a breathless kiss. Hands running down your body greedily. His touch grew hotter with every second, fingers sliding under your top, rubbing up against your soft mounds. His hot tongue ran down your lower lip, needing, begging you to let him taste you more. You squeezed his cock lightly before rubbing your finger along the sensitive slit, oozing precum. Tracing the fat vein down to his base.

Ajax gave out ragged laugh against your mouth, "Fuck, it's like you can read minds."

You stared at him. His smile slipped. "YOU CAN READ MINDS?" He asked.

You grinned at him, "From any dirty thought, down to every pathetic porn search, you have ever made." You replied with pride. "My mind-reading skills are pretty good."

"So if you're feeling a little embarrassed to tell me what you like…~~"

His stomach dropped, "Don't you fucking dare -"

But the mischievous grin you had, told him it was already too late. Your eyes flashed a molten gold, as demonic magic churned inside, a small smile on your red-painted lips. "Choking? Really?"

Heat crept up his face, he opened his mouth but you shut him up with a little coo. You leaned in hands sliding up his torso towards his pretty neck.

"Like getting your neck squeezed sweetheart? Like it when you're tied down all helpless and can't even breathe?" You took his disgruntled yelp for a yes.

"Aww, you just wanna be a good boy for mommy~" You mumbled against his mouth, urging him to kiss you more. His tongue meeting yours. You loved how hot the kiss was. How he flicked his tongue to keep up with you. Following your lead almost obediently, soft lips parting for you.  He tasted like the ocean. You slipped your hand over his cock, guiding the tip towards your entrance. Your thumb brushing over the leaky mushroom tip. Ajax moaned into your mouth. His tip brushed sloppily against your folds and he threw his head back. You reached forward to kiss the corner of his mouth.

"Want me to ride you, baby boy?" You asked.

Ajax gave out a low groan, "Oh God, fuck yes. Please, please ride me." His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips as you lowered yourself on his cock. You felt him tremble under your touch as you sink down to his hilt. His blue eyes widened as you wrapped your fingers around his neck. You felt him get harder inside you.

"You like that baby?" You cooed, tightening your grip slightly. Your laughter was straight out of hell, ringing in his ears as his vision blurred. Poisonously sweet. Fuck he wouldn't even mind if you took his soul at this point. Till the time it meant he could keep milking his cock with your sweet cunt he would even give it to you voluntarily. Fingers wrapped tightly around his neck as you bounced on his cock. Fuck it was too much. Too much.

He gasped as you tightened your grip. Small hearts forming in your eyes, "cum for me big boy? Pretty please~" Ajax was already seeing stars, just cumming inside your warm pussy felt like a fucking dream. He practically came on command as you squeezed another orgasm out of him, cock still throbbing as the leaky tip slipped out. He panted out head rolling back. Mind blanking from the most intense orgasms he had ever had.

Ajax was too gone to answer you. You kissed down his jaw, along the fine lines your fingers had left around his neck. His head rolled back. Giving you more surface to drag your mouth over. You scrape your small fangs against the hollow of his throat, as you felt his fingers wrap around your shoulders. His grip on your shoulders was firm as he drew you back. When he raised his head again, the gaze was practically feral. Eyes darker and hooded. You licked your lower lip. You might have just awakened something darker. Your pussy squeezed with excitement.

You squealed as he flipped you over. The mattress sank under your weight as he climbed over you. Your tail curled around his torso almost protectively. He sank into you again, making you give a sigh of pleasure. Your walls squeezed his cock as he dragged it out, You loved how needily his cock twitched inside of you, pulsing as he tried to push it in deeper. Like he still couldn't get enough. How sweet, honestly you didn't mind. All you wanted was to play with your pretty man all night long. Make his pretty cock fill you up over and over again until it dripped down your thighs.

Oh hell, you had really gotten yourself such a pretty boy at that. The faint flush on his face, the freckled cheeks. You wrapped your legs around his waist, watching his face twist with pure pleasure. You looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, a feverish haze of pleasure taking over you. His fingers ran over your stomach, finding your breasts. "It's still a few hours till sunrise right?" He panted out.

You smiled at him stupidly, "yup, still time."

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Ajax loved fucking you from the back. The way your little wings flapped lightly as he thrust into you, his balls slapping against your ass. And perfect breasts he couldn't help but grope. He could just get off of how much you seemed to love getting fucked by him. Arching your back as he fucked into you and squeezing his cock just so good. God, he knew your Succubus cunt had practically ruined him for anyone else. His tip hurt from the friction now, but he felt like he just couldn't stop. Your pussy just felt so warm and so perfect it was driving him insane.

His fingers slid against the base of your tail. Your knees buckled. With a yelp, you stumbled forward into his whale-printed duvet.

"So the tail's sensitive huh?" He asked. His thumb dragged along the spade-shaped tip. Your legs trembled. "W-wait" you tried, the touch on your pretty tail was overwhelming. It sent chills of pleasure right down your spine, making you quiver under him.

"So cute, so pretty" he purred out. You couldn't help but fuck your hips back into him. Practically mewling as he stroked your lovely tail.

"You won't mind me being a lil rough with it do you?" He asked, You shook your head, as you felt him curl his fingers around the base again. With a teasing caress, you felt him yank your tail as he bottomed into you. Your vision doubled as Your pleasure finally peaked.  You came hard on his cock with a whimper. Your walls squelched around his girth.

"Ah fuck-" Ajax moaned, wrapping his hands around your waist as he continued to rock into you. Fucking you through your own orgasm. He groaned against your ear, "fuck, I'm gonna fall in love with you.' "You don't have to disappear right away, do you?" He panted against you. You sank into his warmth, arms protectively against your body. "I guess I don't." You replied.

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[aspiringtrashpanda]

💫The Collapse of a Star💫

StevenxReader Rating: G Word Count: 4,904 Tags: Established Relationship, Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort A gift for the winner of my giveaway - the lovely @box-kun! It was so nice to meet you! Thank you for requesting Steven 💕

“Incoming call from diamond Steven blue heart diamond! Incoming call from diamond Steven blue heart diamond!”

You tore your gaze away from the computer display to wince at your new Rotom PokéNav. The screen flashed neon blue, only irritating your dry, bloodshot eyes further. Perhaps you shouldn’t have opted to stay up until 3am, glued to a glowing monitor. 

Perhaps you shouldn’t have put such an obnoxious name for Steven into your device, either. 

“Incoming call from diamond Steven blue heart diamond!”  

Your Aron squeaked in interest, waddling over from his bed in the corner of your office to peer up at the PokéNav with eyes as blue as the screen. Adoration spilled from his gaze, the same emotion squeezing your heart. Your little baby was so smart, yes he was!  

Reaching down to rub the sleek steel crown of Aron’s head, you praised his ability to recognize such a prominent name in your life, regardless of the speaker. You tossed him an iron screw from the jar of his “treats” on your desk.

“Incoming call from diamond Steven blue heart diamond!”  

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” With a dry chuckle, you accepted the call, turning the volume as loud as possible and triggering the speaker phone button. No one was in the office at this time, anyway. Your voice cracked from lack of use as you spoke, “Hello?” 

“Good morning.”

You could hear Steven yawn through the words. Your heart panged as you thought of him, groggily blinking in the morning sun streaming through the sheer linen curtains over the large window in his temporary room. Far too familiar with the way the light refracted through his irises, turning them to the warmest crystal, you wished you were there to run your fingers through his unruly bedhead.  

“Hey,” Despite your exhaustion, your smile came easy, “How did you sleep?” 

“Mmm,” His voice sounded muffled, and the creak of springs told you he had buried his head in his pillow, “Could’ve slept better.” 

“Yeah? Bad dreams?”  

“Is it a bad dream if you wake up and realize it’s not real?” He was pouting. You could hear it.  

“You’ve lost me.” 

The response was tagged onto a soft sigh. “You were here.” 

You thought your heart was going to break. “Ah.” 

Here. 

Hundreds of miles away. 

In Unova.

READ THE FULL FIC HERE.

Thanks for stopping by! 💕

[imagineanime2022]

Teenage Informant

Dabi X Teen!Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 1185

Requested: Anon

Request: Heyy I was wondering if, based on your Dabi x teen! reader fic you could write the league finding out that Dabi lives with teen!reader?? (platonic ofc) tyy

Dabi remembered seeing you on the street corner fighting. Some low level thugs who seemed to be trying and failing to push you around, in the end you knocked every one of them out, searched their pockets and took everything that you deemed worth taking. Dabi made himself known after that and when you showed no fear towards him, he saw himself in you, he didn’t say anything that day but he watched out for you whenever he was around.

The second time that he saw you, you were leaning against the wall of an old alleyway, there was some gang leader that he remembered seeing around, not that he could tell you the name of him, you both seemed to be talking about something.The leader dove forward at something to you said but you easily blocked and then moved him against the wall where you said something close to his ear before letting him go. He shrugged you off before glancing around eyes connecting with Dabi at the end of the alley but he was looking at you, he didn’t spare the leader even a glance as he watched you count up money and stuff it in your pocket. “You good kid?” He asked, finally looking at the man next to you with blue eyes glowing in the low light. “Fine.” You answered, handing over whatever the leader was looking for, he snatched it from you before briskly leaving the scene. “You shouldn’t be dealing with guys like that.” Dabi said, you just nodded at the statement “then what are you doing out here with them?” “Need money to live.” You answered “I apparently have a skill that most are interested in using.” “What’s that?” He asked. “Information gathering, my quirk allows me to track someone and gather information through computers and cameras as long as I’ve seen their eyes.” You explained “creeped out everyone that I went to school with and I’m sure you can figure out why most heroes were afraid of my quirk.” “Just by seein’ their eyes?” He asked. “Mmm.” You hummed. “That sounds useful, has anyone tried actually recruiting you?” Dabi asked as he walked towards you. “No ones looking to recruit a teen with nowhere to go and every opportunity to be captured by the enemy.” You answered. “Well you seem like a useful kid so I’ve got a place for you to stay if you want.” He shrugged. “And what do you want in return?” You asked. “Just information when I need it.” He answered. “Fine.” You answered. “Really?” he asked. “You're just going to go with a stranger like that?” “I have to trust strangers everyday, I don’t have any friends or family around to use it on.” You answered. “Not to mention with my quirk no one stays a stranger for long.”

It was a few months later that Dabi decided to join the LoV and even with more people around you were still the only teen that he could tolerate in larger doses. He never told the others about you but you knew about all of them and made sure that they were who they said they were based on the information that you could find on them. Dabi used you to get extra information on the people that they decided to target.

Dabi was sitting in the bar arm resting on the back of the sofa as he watched everyone “Hey scar face.” Shigaraki called from the bar, eyes cast over to look at him. “What?” He asked, now used to the names that Shigaraki would throw at him, it was a rare and usually dangerous situation when his actual name was used. “Where do you get your information from?” He asked. “What does it matter to you?” Dabi asked. “It’s reliable, why aren’t they part of the league?” Shigaraki asked. “Maybe they don’t want to be a part of this group.” Dabi shrugged, turning away from him. “Well you tell me who they are or I find them myself and find out what you're hiding.” Shigaraki warned him. “Leave ‘em alone, their helpin’ you is that not enough? You paranoid freak.” Dabi grumbled, the silence between them filled with the ringing of a phone. “He can meet me if that will stop him from doubting you.” Your voice emitted through the phone. “You don’t have to do that kid.” He muttered. “It’s okay.” You said. “Fine, I’ll bring ‘em to you.” He said, you hummed in agreement as you both signed off. “They said that they’ll meet you.”

45 minutes later Dabi was standing in the livingroom of the apartment that he stayed at with you, you must have still been in your room because he couldn’t see or hear you around. “They’re here?” Shigaraki asked. “Is this where you live?” Toga asked. “None of your business Brat.” He answered. “Hey kid you here!?” He called, it was only a few seconds later that you jogged down the stairs, eyes casting over all of the people in the room before waving. “This is the one you get your information from?” Shigaraki asked, “lying to me will get you nowhere.” “He’s not lying.” You cut in. “Prove it.” Shigaraki ordered. “What do you want to know?” You asked. “How do you get your information?” Shigaraki answered. “Your eyes.” You answered. “My eyes?” Shigaraki asked. “Well, anyone’s eyes, as long as I’ve seen your eyes I can track you through any camera footage, past or present, I can usually find some kind of photo ID, the rest is just really good computer skills.” You explained as leaned against the banister in front of you. “You live with this kid?” Compress asked. “He offered me a place to stay in exchange for information gathering skills.” You answered. “So why do you want to meet with me?” “I want you to join the league.” Shigaraki answered and you looked at Dabi who shrugged. “Your choice kid.” He finally said. “Then I’ll join but the moment that your goals stray from Dabi’s, I leave to follow him, so don’t get too comfortable.” You answered, Dabi smirked as he walked over to you ruffling your hair as you smacked him away. “Bring her tomorrow, we've got work to do.” Shigaraki ordered as he turned and left the apartment, the others still lingering. “Didn’t think you had a soft spot, Dabi.” Compress said, you could hear the smirk under the mask. “Don’t, they serve a purpose.” Dabi answered. “I’m sure.” Compress waved him off as he gestured for the others to leave, you were sure that the others would have said more if they knew that Dabi wouldn’t kill them immediately but with no guarantee they all left following their leader. “You did good kid.” He said once the door closed and you nodded taking a deep breath. “I meant it, if I ever have to choose I will choose you.” You promised. “Mm.” He hummed, you didn’t expect anything more than that but when you looked up there was a subtle smile and honestly that was enough.

Request Here!!

[hannahssimblr]

And so, begins an intense drive for work like I have never experienced. Perhaps work is the wrong word, as not much about creating art feels that way. Never before with ordinary, academically focussed work have I adopted this kind of extraordinary discipline to the point that I simply get through the motions of the ins and outs of my ordinary days, looking forward to the moment that I can lock myself away in my bedroom and draw for the evenings and into the night.

I draw everything in sight. I study fabric; the crinkle of the duvet, the crease in my pillows and the piles of discarded clothing on my bedroom floor. I draw the curtains from ten positions, then ten more. I study the exacting edges of man made objects. The hard, smooth ceramic of the mugs I should have brought back to the kitchen days ago, the individual keys of my laptop, a tastefully arranged stack of books from dad’s library that he surely won’t notice are missing unless he has a sudden urge to read about the battle of the bulge or Haguenau for the thousandth time. 

Mostly I study myself, my own anatomy, feet, legs, arms and fingers and all of the weird little bits of me that move about beneath the skin. I fill pages and pages this way, so many that I run out of paper and start drawing in between all of the drawings I’ve already done, overlapping like the work of an obsessed madman. Maybe I am. 

Have I eaten today? 

Often I pull up a mirror and study my own face in different ways. I pull different expressions or control the lighting so that I can create soft, diffused light in the early morning, or cast angular shadows over my cheek with the artificial glow of a desk light when the sun sets and the room around me is black like spilled ink. 

At school when I lay my work on the table for Miss O’Reilly I’m embarrassed by how many drawings of my own likeness cram the bursting pages of my sketchbooks. They look like the journals of a raving egomaniac to me, but to her it resembles art. She tells me that I show a lot of real promise, and that I have more to learn. I agree with her, and spend lunchtime in the library.

Art and science, it seems, go hand in hand. Hunched in a dark corner where nobody can see how uncool I have become, I pore over anatomy diagrams and look at muscles and tendons and bones. I learn what everything is called and the shape it makes when the skin is pulled taut over it. 

When it is curved on one side, it’s straight on the other, I observe, as I draw my finger down the length of an illustrated thigh on page sixty four of Biology Plus for Leaving Cert, trying not to think about how this is probably the closest I’ve come to intimacy with another human being in months, and as someone as uncontrollably and constantly horny as I am it’s becoming difficult to ignore. Maybe I should text Tara Neary and ask if she’ll help me study biology…

No.

I hastily skip over the pages about reproduction and start reading about something called the Cephalic vein instead. Sexy. 

I even log into the library computers and watch disgusting medical videos of dissections which make me feel so ill that I think I might lose my lunch, but they are informative as much as they make me feel like I am displaying psychopathic behaviour and worry that I am on a slippery slope towards becoming one of those people that murders cats and rabbits just so that he can cut them up and peer at their insides. What’s next? Robbing graves?

“Look up blue waffle next.”

I jump, and spin around to Jen who is leaning over my shoulder, and I quickly close all windows from the Video Atlas of Human Anatomy website. “And that’s fucking sick, whatever that is.” 

“Jesus, Jen, you scared me.”

“Only because I caught you looking at something you shouldn’t.” 

“It’s just biology,” I grumble, and she pinches my arm before pulling up a seat and slumping into it, “I didn’t think I’d find you here of all places. The elusive Jude Turner.”

“Is that what they call me now?”

“I’m afraid so. But honestly I thought you were doing something way more interesting with all your alone time these days.”

“I’m studying.”

“Do you know how to study?”

“Clearly.” 

She sighs, “Well can you give it a rest? I miss you. We don’t hang out enough lately.”

“It’s not because I hate you or something…”

“I know, you’re busy, busy, busy, drawing all the time. Ugh. I get it. Is this how you’re going to be all summer too? Down on the beach in Wexford drawing scabby seagulls?”

“If you wanted to hang out you could always come over to my house and let me draw you again, as long as you won’t move around so much this time.”

“I can’t not move!” She says in outrage, and as the librarian promptly shushes her she lowers the volume, “It’s so boring just to sit there and do nothing, I can’t think of anything worse. Oh no wait, I can, it’s hanging out with Michelle and Evan without you there to laugh at them with me. And now that it’s getting warmer and the days are longer I just want to be outside, but my only options are to sit in the park and watch them kiss or go for a sad walk all on my own, Judie,” she takes my hands, “Please, give it a rest. Down the pencils, I’m begging you.”

“I just really like learning about this.”

“Yes, but can you like it six days a week instead of seven? Can you give me a day? A measly day for old Jenny?”

“I see you Tuesdays still,” I point out, though I know that grilling her with maths questions while she groans in despair into her pillow isn’t exactly her definition of fun, but can’t she see that this is important to me? I can’t forgo my Ivy duties or rugby, so I must forgo my social evenings instead. Something's got to give, and now it has, and for the good of my future I have stopped texting everyone back. 

“We’re having a bonfire night at the weekend, will you come?”

“Who is?”

“Me and my friends.”

“The emos.”

“Yeah, the emos. What other friends do I have? Now that it’s finally semi-warm-ish we thought we’d have a fun night up by the beach and just sit around and chat by the fire. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“Well, yeah,” I admit reluctantly. “I do like a bonfire.”

“Of course you do, my little arsonist. So come. It’ll be good for you to get out and do something. You’re an extrovert, you’re not meant to be so cooped up.”

I begin to protest that I don’t feel cooped up, even, astoundingly, when I’m at home with my family. I feel alive and free in my artistic pursuits since I’ve unlocked this new exciting part of myself. I’m capable of focussing on something, doesn’t Jen understand how significant that is? But then again,  maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s abnormal not to socialise with other teenagers for three weeks in a row. 

“Alright, I’ll come then.”

“That’s more like it,” Jen ruffles my hair, no doubt getting it all out of place, but it’s fine, I’ll fix it later in the mirror when I’m back drawing my nose or my chin for the umpteenth time. “We’ll have a lovely time! I’m excited now!”

“Yeah, don’t get too excited, I feel like the librarian might have something to say about that.”

Jen peers around to see the daggers being shot her way, “Okay, fine. I’ll leave you alone.”

“You promise?”

“Yes! Look, I’m going!” She untangles her legs from the chair and does a whole show of sneaking away as quietly as humanly possible while watching the librarian with performative caution, “Hey,” She hisses from the door, just when I had started to believe she was truly gone, “Don't forget to look up blue waffle. Trust me.”

“Get out of here!”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[incongruence-osaf]

The Incongruence of Stars and Flowers PART ONE - Chapter One

1948

Space Colony ARK, Mobius’s Orbit

The brilliance of white heavenly fire gradually disappears behind the blue and green marble of planet Mobius. As the tenth dusk prepares room for pockets and fields of stars to shine in the never-ending darkness, a stout elderly scientist sits on a swivel chair in the frame of one of Space Colony ARK’s tall laboratory windows. He quietly observes the familiar changes of the station’s daily orbit while absentmindedly twiddling his long gray mustache. The dissipating halo of sunlight winks goodbye to Professor Gerald Robotnik, the reflection no longer glinting in the clean lenses of his round glasses. 

The beige and gray surfaces of the lab’s machinery will be darkened by shadows once more for another ninety minutes. He eases out of his focused state and becomes aware of just how much time has passed when the glaring glow of the computer screen in front of him can no longer be ignored behind the tint in his glasses. Stress from transferring complex genetic data charts to colleagues, as well as impatiently checking for emailed test results from the Pediatric Endocrinology department, had finally caught up to him. More testing had been determined necessary by his granddaughter’s on-site care team within the last week. Her conditions were changing in curious ways, creating more puzzles to solve inside the complex enigma of her deteriorating brain and body, the progression of which is slowed down by the low gravity in space. The scientist rubs his wrinkled face and stands up to stretch his creaking joints in his now cold and unlively workspace. 

A new light source from the adjacent hallway illuminates a path toward the weary man after a blonde-haired child opens the door. A shiny keycard dangles from a lanyard around her neck. His granddaughter, Maria Robotnik, is wearing a baggy blue hoodie over a hospital gown and sleepily saunters past the tables of equipment to join him.

 

For a few moments, the only sounds interrupting the silence are the grippy steps of her socks, the ambient hum of computer beeps and fans, and their relaxed breathing syncing as she wordlessly leans into his plump embrace. Her lean feels heavier and unsteady today, the poor girl, while she buries her face into his wrinkled white lab coat. Gerald pecks the top of Maria’s head that’s decorated with a daisy-patterned blue headband. Her hair is thin and rather yellowish in tone. It used to have a healthy golden luster before her body started to attack itself. The memory of the sun with its summery hues filtered through the barrier of Mobius’s atmosphere flits through his mind.

“Táborák.” Gerald quietly muses to himself.

Maria furrows her brow against the pen pocket on his chest.

“What's that Grandpa?”

He pulls away slightly but keeps a gentle arm around her shoulders as a guide while he walks them along the wall of windows. “It’s a Slovak word I learned when I was a young boy. It means ‘campfire’. Like in the Western film we watched yesterday after your tests, when the cowboys were cooking meat and laughing over the fire pit. You might have been too young to remember, but we had several family campfires with your parents before you and I moved to the ARK.”

The preteen girl squints her eyes for a moment before speaking, taking interest in the newly visible specks of stars. “...I remember a little bit. You had your funny sweater on that made Dad laugh. I was cold, but my parents warmed me up in their laps. I was really small but the sky seemed so big and pretty,” she recounts, the corners of her eyes creasing upwards.

“I’m glad that fascination sprouted in you since you were a little tot,” the elder wistfully smiles down at her, now holding the forgotten cup of coffee he obtained from the nearest wall of cabinets. “Say, there’s an almost imperceptible cluster of stars located just past the shuttle bay, through the corner of this window here. Their colors would look very much like a campfire if we were to view them through a telescope. Do you remember what kind of stars those are?”

Maria presses her floppy blue sleeves against the glass to follow where his finger points. “Hmmm…those could be spectral type K, or M, such as red dwarf stars. Those live the longest and are the coolest…just like Shadow is.” Maria snickers with a proud grin.

 Gerald wheezes, coughing up the small sip of cold coffee he just inhaled, “Haha! Very good Maria! You are correct on both accounts.” His chuckles trail off as he almost puts his mug into the wrong microwave, closing the door of the one used to dry lab materials and instead opening the household microwave beside it. Its uncentered turntable clicks in a sporadic pattern compared to the rhythmic whirring of the machines and computers in the wide room. Maria looks lost in thought and her face droops while staring at the dark liquid turning round and round.

“Grandpa?”

“Yes, słoneczko?” 

“Are the stars really as pretty as I think I remember? From Mobius, I mean? We spin so much that I get the constellations mixed up and forget where they are. I forget where we are, and what they looked like. They’re cool, but…” she huffs in frustration. Gerald can see that Maria’s eyes have become glossier in the dim glow of the microwave at her eye level before it shuts off. He ignores the now heated coffee and carefully leans down to put comforting palms onto her shoulders.

“They’re absolutely as beautiful as you remember, if not more. When I was a student in Poland, I’d gather around campfires way too big for my mother’s liking. I'd talk about the meaning of life with fellow stargazers, friends who are no longer alive. When the same stars that we see so frequently start to peek out in the darkness of the Mobius sky, especially in the country where no city lights can reach…it’s the closest I’ve gotten to feeling a higher power. Sometimes there’s so many that it looks like a living painting, glittering all together on a more focused canvas than the infinite darkness we see in orbit. The stars keep company and comfort in such a way that we often take for granted here aboard the ARK.”

Maria blinks the teariness out of her eyes and settles her gaze on the vacuum of space only kept separate by the thickly reinforced glass. Gerald does his best to make sure her life on the ARK is holistically nourishing. But he knows that what the adults sometimes consider to be an escape from an imperfect world full of multitudes of harm, a growing utopia…to Maria, it’s cold isolation during her most formative years. Gerald resolves that Maria will be able to live on Mobius again, healthy and safe. That she will see with her own eyes the wonders of the world outside of books and pictures. It doesn’t matter that he’s past his prime; he will dedicate the rest of his days to make sure that her dreams become reality.

“Let’s add making a campfire to the ‘bucket list’. When we go to Mobius, we’ll find a quiet place where pesky city lights won’t obstruct the view of the true night sky. The flames and the stars will shine on the new memories all of us will make together. You, Shadow, and me.” Gerald reassures her warmly. 

Maria rubs her eyes with her sleeves and clings to her grandfather for another hug. He feels and hears her stomach gurgle through her oversized clothes.

“Sounds about time for a snack. Want to come with me to the cafeteria? I need to give my old eyes a break. And here, use my cane.” Arm in arm, the pair slowly exit into the hallway, leaving behind the flickering red, blue, green, and white buttons of the machines blinking like eyes in the pitch-black laboratory.

CHAPTER TWO HERE

[caprisunnydays]

Adventures of a not so average Voxtech employee : Chapter 1

Word count : 1.7k

Life in hell wasn’t THAT bad. Well, it was still hell, but you’d come to appreciate the afterlife you’d made for yourself. Considering the unfortunate circumstance, you were able to find comfort in the twisted familiarity. It felt like being trapped in a tidepool, where the ebb and flow of the water brought fleeting moments of relief from the frigid depths. Yet, in this hellish existence, there was no escape from the relentless cycle. At times you weren’t drowning in the anguish of your existence, but just like the ocean's chill, you felt a constant, dull pain. But things had been worse before you got this “job”.

You had no purpose for quite some time. Running around in search of suitable shelter each night, scavenging for food, and busting your ass to avoid bigger, more powerful demons was no way to live. Even now, you were new to hell. It had only been about a year since you died and fell into this horrid place, and for a few months, you were scrambling for a scrap of stability. Then in a turn of luck, you landed a job as a janitor in a Vox tech store, then worked your way up the totem pole (which wasn’t too hard when the boss of that store fired and killed people left and right if they looked at her funny) to where you sat today. 

A cubicle in Voxtech’s news script writing department for!

MUCH better than when you had no job and no place to sleep! Now it was just a 5-minute walk to the Voxtech building from your apartment every morning, work until you’re done, and hopefully get back home before 3 am! You weren’t so lucky this time, but you had accidentally fallen asleep on your 30-minute lunch break and turned it into an hour and a half, so maybe the overtime was karma. 

You sat hunched in your chair, a fluffy blanket from home wrapped around your shoulders, and the taste of cold coffee was on your tongue as you typed corrections on the last of your assignments. When you discounted the burn of the blue light in your eyes, you entered a meditative state that combined focus and dissociation into the killer combo known as your “work mode”. It got you through the days, nights, and mornings you spent doing overtime with no extra pay. Your eyes wandered to the clock in the corner of your screen.

3:15 am

Eh, not as bad as it could be.

Even once you finish this, you’ll probably end up sleeping in your makeshift office bed, which consists of your blanket and a flat-ass pillow being shoved under your desk so you don’t have to deal with going home just to come back in 3 hours. You stretch, pushing your rollie chair away from the desk and groaning at your stiff joints. You stood up and looked over the rows of dividers to see empty cubicles. This was probably the first time in forever that you had been the only one in the office, even at this late hour. The glowing of your singular computer screen and the hum of the AC bordered something you’d see on a Lofi study video, bringing a sense of comfortable isolation to your dead heart. That was until you heard the clicking of shoes against the office floor and doors being slammed.

“Mother FUCKING useless pieces of shit! The one day they say they can come in for maintenance checks and their sorry asses flake AGAIN?! I swear to Satan I’m sending someone to burn down that company for making ME do this bullshit myself because like hell am I gonna deal with shit in my company not working and costing me money-”

 You froze at the aggressive rambling as it approached your station. You slowly sat back down and turned off your computer, sitting silently. Your fingertips brushed the handle of your bat, which you kept under your desk for cases like this. In case one of those nut jobs with much less sanity than you decided to throw themselves in the building and go on a rampage. You gingerly picked the weapon up as the angry ranting got closer. The footsteps crescendoed until a figure was nearing the opening of your cubicle, and you shot up, bat drawn back ready to swing.

The TV demon screamed, jumping back in a laughably cartoonish way, arms over his face and one leg off the ground. His screen buffered, his scream lagging while a code ‘HOLY SHIT’ flashed across his screen.

“AH SHIT! What the fuck are you doing here?” You stood there in the dark for a beat, before putting the bat under your desk and turning your computer back on.

“Work.” You yawn and sit back down. You accessed the man, your brain slowly catching up to reality despite its drowsy fog. 

TV demon…loud…angry…oh shit this is my boss.

In your entire time working for this man, you seldom saw him in the flesh…or, circuits rather. That made sense, he’s VOX. Owner of Voxtech, one of the most powerful overlords in hell, and from what you could tell, a workaholic. He built this empire that you only played a minuscule part in. It was something to marvel at, if you thought about it deeply enough, but you also knew he had a habit of slaughtering anybody disrupting the machine he kept so well-oiled. Maybe that’s why the manager of your department was such an asshole all the time, but you’re sure that she was born to play the role of a narcissistic, cold-hearted bitch. All that aside, you didn’t want to set off the big man who controlled your life standing right next to you, so you just sat in your chair, awkwardly waiting to be spoken to again.

“And your “work” has you sitting in the dark with a bat like a lunatic?” He groaned and rubbed his face. “I mean seriously, I’m surprised you’re still here when I specifically told everyone to get their asses out of this office before 3am.” You squinted in confusion. You were never usually told to leave by a certain time. Everyone above you 

ALWAYS wanted you and the other corporate slaves working around the clock to keep making money. You quickly opened your email.

Nothing about that in there.

Maybe they had an announcement that you just didn’t hear? But you’d been working your ass off the whole day and didn’t-

They had a meeting while I was asleep on my lunch break and NOBODY TOLD ME ABOUT IT?! These people really are fake as hell.

You knew not getting screamed at and almost killed by your boss for your unprompted nap was strange. She must have just let it slip so you’d have to deal with someone much worse. Vox was looking down at you with a furrowed brow and tapping foot. You considered your options, and the most rational thing you could think of was just to try and slowly extract yourself from the office. You grabbed your phone and turned off your computer, keeping your gaze down as you attempted to creep away.

“I am looking right at you, stop trying to sneak away as if I can’t see you.”

Well, there goes that plan.

Halting your movements, you began mentally preparing to be maimed. After all, it wouldn't be the first time that happened to you in this office. Your manager handed out physical punishments like candy, and while she had never killed you and forced you to respawn, you had been given horrific injuries countless times. You turned back to Vox, studying his form in the low lighting. He didn’t look THAT mad, more like he was contemplating something. His scrunched expression morphed into a charming smile, the one he’s known for. Was he about to use his eye on you?

“I could use your help with this inspection I’ve gotta do. You know this place best after all.” It was not a question, and since you were just preparing for a second death, you’d take this option with no complaints. You gave him a nod and he clasped his hands together, before grabbing one of your shoulders. “Greaaaat,” His smile dropped, “Let's get this shit done with.”

You proceeded to show him around the office, stopping at places that could be hazardous and require maintenance. The lights, electricity, and everything else that made this unit function was in order. You were only checking the places that made this place run smoothly, but that was to be expected. You ended off your maintenance tour by turning on every single computer to make sure they were functioning. You had only gotten through three when suddenly the office exploded with white light. Vox shot you a cocky smirk.

“It’s much faster that way,” He held out his hand, blue claws sparking as tiny bolts of electricity danced between his fingers, “but your manual technique was cute enough.” He stomped and let electricity surge through the floor again to shut off all the computers. Then he scoffed and pulled out his phone, texting someone aggressively. “Thank god that’s over with. I’m out, you should be too.” He pocketed his phone and began striding out the door. “Oh, and thanks for the help or whatever.” 

Just like that, he was gone. A breath of anxiety pushed out of your lungs, one you weren’t even aware of until the pressure of Vox’s presence was lifted. You had expected much worse. After all, the consensus among you and your peers was that he was a massive prick. But at least he didn’t grab you by the horns and throw you around till they cracked like your manager.

“…mission successful.” As you mutter under your breath some passive-aggressive comments you'd like to say to your colleagues, you gathered your belongings to head back to your apartment. Nearly stumbling over your improvised bed, you briefly consider just crashing there for the night. Mentally though, you’re so far gone that you might end up doing yourself even more of a disservice by staying. “Fuck it, I’m going home.” You chug the rest of your watered-down coffee and throw the mug in the office kitchen sink. 

As you stepped out into the vibrant streets of the entertainment district, you savored the moment when you closed the back door to the Vees' headquarters. There’s nothing like the sound of the lock clicking when you turn your work key in the knob and head off for the night.

I'm gonna make multiple chapters and post em on Ao3 whenever I get around to working on it. Will post the link here!

[futurebird]

The Overdue Man

Have you ever had an uncanny or possibly paranormal experience?

I have.

It happened when I was in undergrad, I had a work-study in the Archivists Office in the rare books section of the library. The library is a classic modern building from the 50s, once ahead of its time, now well behind. The computer system was similar, my college being one of the first to adopt a digital library catalog in the late 60s

So, as you can see, this is, in part, a story of a haunted computer terminal.

I had returned early from spring break to pack in some extra hours in the library so I could avoid working during exams week. The campus was lovely in spring, dogwood trees shed pink petals on the quad, tulips tossed & bobbed sudden short thunderstorms. I got lost in my work on the solid library terminal with it's chunky keyboard & blue-green matrix screen.

My desk was under a little sky light in a hidden corner of the 5th floor. That's how I noticed the light changing.

The library was a modernist building, as I mentioned, and many people called it "ugly" I think simply because it was modern. Secretly it was one of my favorite buildings on the campus. Because, although built with clean minimalist lines, it was made with care. The architect clearly cared about light. During the day, the building hardly used any electric lights at all.

So, I was alarmed when the sky suddenly darkened so drastically that the runners came on. But, this was spring and I looked up expecting the thunder and another violent little thunder storm.

Gazing up through the skylight told me little. The window was frosted, and I could only see a steel gray haze. The green blue glow of the old computer lit my keyboard and I endeavored to keep working.

Before I could apply myself to my task the light shifted again. This time growing brighter... golden. The runners switched off. The air grew still. The library was empty.

The light from the skylight and from every window was a lustrous pink-gold, a sunset color although it was only early afternoon. The effect was beautiful, dust motes played near the stair well.

The bell at the front desk around the corner rang. Strange. I didn't hear anyone enter.

My main duty was cataloging, but if the head archivist was out I was tasked with lending out rare books in his place. I went around to see who it was.

The light was much more dramatic in the rare books library lobby where there were more skylights & windows, the whole space was bathed in that peach-toned light. And there, by the bell, stood a young man. Smartly dressed. Too smartly dressed.

In fact, a large part of the "paranormal" nature of this experience will require you to trust my (even then) finally tuned sense of fashion.

He had on tweed pants and a sweater, leather shoes and a button down shirt. All of his clothes were out of time. His sweater, to take one item, was a campy letterman affair in school colors. Hand knit. It was the kind of plain sweater that no one would bother to hand knit. It was hand knit self-consciously because whoever bought it couldn't afford store-bought and aimed to approximate the mass produced look as best they could. In short, it was very old.

But, it was also brand new.

The same was true of his plain, white shirt. I could see less than perfect hand stitching on the collar. Who, today would sew a white button-down shirt by hand?

Under his arm he held a notebook, and even it struck me as all wrong for the date of our existence. It was a composition book the likes of which I have never seen except in archives, the black and white dapple pattern was made by splattering ... not printing.

His outfit, though very plain, had that effect of a costume. I took all this in and decided he was from the drama department.

Not everyone could check out rare books. We had our own system, hence the computer in the basement and the beautiful, clunky terminals. I asked for his ID. That's when things got even more strange.

His ID was *laminated* and contained a *real photograph*! His name inscribed by typewriter. His student ID? In pen! I started to have my doubts about my theory that he was from drama. Maybe this was an elaborate book heist!

I tuned over the ID frowning with doubt. "This isn't-" "I'm a grad student." He explained quickly. "Have been for a long time. I know that photo is old..."

The photo didn't look old to me at all. Though, perhaps it was that strange light, concealing and repainting things, for as much as I'd noticed his clothing, I took more notice now of the man himself. He had an uncanny ageless quality. I could not have said if he were 25 or 45... or perhaps even older.

I peered at the photograph on the ID comparing it to the man. They were clearly the same. The clothing in the photo looked just as anachronistic. Even the background of the photo felt like something from a forgotten decade, a pull-down painted backdrop of the college rotunda. His photo beamed at me, and so did the man himself.

Some of the faculty had such ancient IDs. So, I decided to search him up in the system. I tried his last name, which was short an unusual. No luck. I tried his ID--

When I entered his student ID the terminal flashed. The screen inverting for a moment. I gave it wack, as I'd seen the head archivist do, and this seemed to clear it up... but the record I was now viewing was curious and incomplete.

His name had been entered in the wrong field, which is why the search failed. His first name was just an initial. I attempted to correct this but the system wouldn't accept my changes.

I scanned the book. And handed it over to him. He smiled, thanked me, and it seemed very sincere. Whatever else he was, whoever or wherever (whenever) he'd come from he seemed like a nice person, at least.

I watched him leave, and then leaned over to the window hoping to see him go out through the main exit on ground level below.

But he never came out. Instead the golden light began to rapidly fade. The library returned to normal... the charm that hovered over the place was gone.

Maybe he was just a quirky grad student with a thing for vintage clothing construction, a very old ID, uncanny ageless looks, and great timing with lighting. (and he could have left the library via the tunnels. )

I tried to look at his record in the system again, and NOBODY could edit it. Not even the head archivist. It kept changing itself back. Edits wouldn't stick. To this day, I can't shake the feeling that something more was going on.

I never saw him again.

If you are wondering, the book was "Physics and applications of secondary electron emission"