#Two cuties in the library

[theawkwardartist]

[tohruies]

karasu in blue jeans & a white shirt... otoya in grey sweats & a black compression tee...

[st4rbwrry]

𓊆ྀི󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠 ୨୧ ˖ ࣪ . . . 6.3k. black fem!reader ◞ librarian!armin ◞ lowercase intended ◞ rainstorm / trapped in , protection use ◞ size difference ◞ praise ◞ oral ꒰ f + m. ꒱ ◞ humping the air ◞ prone bone ◞ hair pulling ◞ spanks & choking ◞ armin’s cocky in this ngl ◞ brief throat fucking ◞ fingering ◞ pet names ꒰ cutie , baby , bunny ꒱ . minors aren’t welcomed! reblogs & comments are appreciated <3 𓊇ྀི

꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 ꒱ . . . still questioning whether i like the way i wrote this + armin in general. but, this is my first fic coming back from hiatus so im def a lil rusty lolz. this was written purely off a trip to the library and spotting a blonde boy ‘n a kitty. <3 smut linkies > > ( ❤︎. ❤︎. )

 

rain falls in heavy sheets for hours. trees rock with brutal winds as clouds descend into darkness. a gust of cold wind blows at the heavy doors to the library, aggressively slamming shut behind you along with the chime of a vintage shopkeeper bell. the old man, mister arlert, who usually runs the shop is nowhere to be found. it shouldn't be of surprise given the sudden change of weather; rushing here to return a few books that passed their deadline before your departure back home. 

you had a flight to catch early in the afternoon to spend time with your family for fall break. located in the blistering heat of the countryside. having already packed the night before given your dire need of hefty attire, cosmetics, and toiletries — there hadn’t been much to do these past two days. you’ve been cooped up into your apartment off campus after finals ended, cleaning your home, tending to self care, and binging long awaited tv shows. 

today the weather was brutal. rain literally beating down on your windows for hours now. there’s been crackles of thunder, but nothing much to worry of. although, your phone did buzz a few good times in reminder of flash flooding and possible tornadoes. it never was anything to be too concerned over given you lived in the east coast. at most, there’d be small floods, nothing exceeding two inches. since it’s currently fall, the weathers migrating to windy and chilly temperatures. tis the season for sweaters and leg warmers. 

since you had nothing better to do, you remembered you had to run a quick errand to return a few books you’d borrowed from the local library. there’s a sweet old man who owned the shop; mister arlert. each time he saw you he’d always give the warmest greetings. usually helping you with finding exactly what you needed or even giving suggestions of novels he’s enjoyed during his younger days. most of which he read to his wife. 

stepping deeper into the library, it’s completely silent. your clothes are slightly dampened, having to run towards the door to not get entirely soaked. with the books clutched close to your chest, you quietly make yourself known in the presence of whomever was here. you’d made the worst decision of wearing shorts, your thighs wet from the rain, droplets sliding down to your bethan doc martens. luckily, your wore an oversized toffee sweater that reached the backs of your thighs. 

“hello?! mister arlert?” 

silence. 

so, you continue your exploration. maybe mister arlert was in the back dusting off classics. suddenly, you hear a meow coming from the library’s famous cat; fluffles. the chunky orange persian feline with streaks of white on its fluffy coat — hence the name. you smile, clicking your tongue to get his attention as you coed and stumbled closer. 

“hii pretty baby. how are you today? i know, the weather’s scary, huh?” cutely, you gasp when his tiny head knocks into your palm delicately for comfort, purring softly. 

he’s feeding into your attention to him for two minutes before he’s made the decision to walk away. you follow him blindly, trying to see if anyone will pop up around the large, brown shelves of collections. to your luck, you do find someone. 

there’s a man you’ve never seen before, especially here at least. he has his back to you and doesn't seem to notice you, lost in his own world. you watch him for a moment, appreciating his focus and attention to detail as he carefully arranges the books. 

first, your eyes fall straight onto his hair, gawking with bloomed irises of pure enchantment. it’s blonde and bright, like the sun almost. ringlets of curls and really fluffy. it surrounded his features like a paper stick of cotton candy. really airy to touch, you’re sure of it. he’s tall, even though he’s standing on a latter organizing novels. he’s got earphones plugged in, blasting incredibly loud because even you could hear the muffled tunes of jazz he hummed along with. 

“excuse me?” you manage to announce yourself, lifting your hand to wave in his direction so he’d spot you. 

the man blinks slowly, eyes on yours in the prettiest shade of icy blue. it was too dreamy, he looked like a daydream. you could even smell him, too. his cologne like clean linen. laundry on a soft sunday. his lips are full and pink. his body is adorned in chocolate brown cargo pants and a white t-shirt, a plain black button-up draped over, halfway rolled up his forearms. 

“oh, sorry. didn’t hear you come in. i’m about to close, actually.”

you didn’t expect him to sound the way he did. his voice has a certain dialect to it, kind of valley-like. the baritone of it is quiet, yet has undertones of raspiness. it’s gentle, he looks the same. 

“h-hi, um — is mister arlert here? i know i came pretty late, but i promised him i'd have these books back by today."

“nah, he's not here today. won't be back for a while," he replies calmly. “i’m his grandson. names armin.”

“sorry, i’m ꒰ ❤︎ ꒱. um, is he okay?"

armin takes note of your worry, expression softening slightly. "yeah, well — he's gettin' up there and wasn't feelin' too good. i'm coming from uni for fall break, so i've just been looking over the shop for him."

the news upsets you. "oh, no. i'm sorry to hear that."

armin shrugs nonchalantly. "it's alright. he's a tough old boy, he'll be back soon." 

knocking his head fully up, he glances out the window at the pouring rain and lets out a heavy sigh. you’re eyeing the silver chain around his neck and wrist. "man, it's bad out there. did you bike or somethin'? how’d you even make it here?"

"i didn't expect it to get this bad, honestly. i was really adamant on returning this since i'll be home for fall break. but, i drove."

an eyebrow arches. "in this weather? that's reckless."

pursing your lips, you shrug. “kinda. if you say so. weather like this doesn’t scare me.” 

“hm.” 

you notice the way he . .  looks at you. it’s like he’s trying to find what to say to you while also keeping his composure. eyes running up and down your curvy figure. you’ve got this cute crocheted set on that looks handmade. shorts that sit on your hips perfectly and a thin strapped top that barely covers your torso, a teddy bear stitched into the bosom. your knit sweater keeping you warm along with leg warmers.  your hair is to your shoulders, half of it pulled back into a pony with a black bow. you’re pretty. 

breaking the awkward silence, there’s a crackle of thunder that startles the both of you, booming so loud it causes car alarms to go off. soon after, the lights began to flicker inside the shop, panic settling into you as you run to go check on your car, only to find there had been an inconvenient accident. a tree stump was cracked in half causing it to crash onto a few cars ahead of yours while also blocking the main road to head home, meaning you’d have no way of leaving here tonight until the storm passed.

“fuck,” you slam your hand to your mouth in agony. “ugh, no!" 

armin’s not far from behind you as he checks to see the collision. his face scrunches up in irritation, knowing he’d also have no way of leaving here tonight. the floods are picking up, the rain is beating down heavier, and it wouldn’t be safe for either of you to depart right now. thankfully, his car was parked in the back. 

“that’s just fuckin’ great,” armin sucks his teeth, placing his palm on the window and dropping his head. “well, that’s not good. looks like we’re both stuck here for the night.” 

your distress is fairly evident, forehead in your palm as you groan and ponder, trying your best not to crash out. “i literally can’t. i have a flight in the morning. this is really bad.” 

armin’s got a look of sympathy for you. “it's really coming down out there. and that tree looks like it could have damaged the road below it. there's really no way you're getting out of here anytime soon."

that didn’t make you feel any better. though, he tries his best to offer comfort.

“hey, it’s g’na be alright. i understand your worries about your flight, but safety is more important right now. it’s not worth risking your life trying to bypass this issue.” 

with a deep sigh to collect your emotions, you nod. you could agree on that. you’re sure your family would prefer if you visited with your body intact. “you’re right. i have to contact my parents. i don’t know, maybe the flights will be delayed?” 

“most likely. i doubt they’ll risk it. i’m hoping it’ll clear up in a few hours,” armin shakes his wrist to eye the watch on his wrist. “it’s a little after ten now. guys might come ‘round five.” 

“god, what a mess. i'm not usually stranded in a library with a stranger." you meet his gaze, feeling a bit self-conscious. “no offense."

armin chuckles and shakes his head. "yeah, i get it. this isn't exactly a normal situation. but, i’m not too bad company, right?"

"you're eerily calm about this. it kinda frustrates me.

armin smirks, "panic won't change the situation. it's best not to overthink it. plus, the old boy has plenty of natural disaster knick knacks in the back."

"hm.”

armin can see that you're still concerned. he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "sorry if i seem so cavalier about this. i’m just trying not stress you out even more.” 

maybe you were being a bit standoffish. it seems like he’s trying his best to make you comfortable. taking a deep breath, you sigh. “it’s okay, i’m sorry. i have a bad habit of being cold when i’m overstimulated.” 

when he smiles again, you notice a faint dimple sinking into the crevice of his top cheekbone. he’s super fucking cute. that’s another factor to your stress. you’re trying not to freak out over the fact that you’re stranded here with a man you’ve found yourself newly attracted to. anything could happen in this scenario. it’s straight out of a porno. question is, would you let it get that far? 

“it’s cool, i get it,” armin strokes the pad of his thumb across his lower lip, watching you. “c’mon, lemme show you the attic.” 

“okay.” 

following behind him, you can’t stop your eyes from wandering over his backside. he’s very slim but well built in the right areas, specifically his back, arms, and thighs. you study his walk as he digs one hand in his pocket and safely guides you up a spiral staircase leading to a secret room behind an almost ancient wooden door. 

it’s a cute little nook above the library that nearly resembled a loft apartment. there’s rustic brick walls, polished wooden floors, a kitchen, and futon in a living area. boxes upon boxes stocked in different sections filled with precious material.

"wow, this is pretty neat." 

armin grins. "yeah, it's a pretty cool little hideaway. the old man's had this place for so long that he's got pretty much everything he needs. even when the power goes out, this place stays cozy."

and for some reason, a few moments after he uttered those words, the power went out. the room is plunged into darkness as the power fails, leaving you and armin in the dim light that filters in through the windows due to the lightning. armin looks a bit surprised, but quickly composes himself.

“well, i guess that was perfect timing," he jokes. "looks like we're gonna test out that old man's preparedness."

hugging yourself tight, you swallow as you hear him pull out a drawer, revealing a few candles.

"help me light these, huh?"

you nod and rush over to help, and as the warm, flickering light from the candles illuminates the room, you can't help but feel a bit more at ease. the cozy atmosphere created by the candlelight gives the space a certain charm. as you finish setting up the candles, placing them in areas of the space that needed it, you notice that armin is already rummaging through the cabinets, looking for something specific. a radio he finds gets cut on to listen in on the news. 

"there's a few roads blocked, it seems. hopefully it won't get too bad to where'd people have to evacuate." 

solemnly, you nod. "yeah, i hope it doesn't come to that. it’s bad enough that we're stuck here already."

"hey, it's not . . too bad. don't get discouraged. we can make the time past. i've got some blankets and a futon for you. i can give you your space if you're feeling uncomfortable or anything."

"no, i uh . . actually wouldn't mind your company. it'd take my mind off the situation."

armin’s a bit relieved. "alright, that works for me. uh, you can sleep on the futon and i can just crash on the armchair over there." 

he walks over to a closet and pulls out a stack of blankets, handing them to you. "here, take these. it can get pretty cold up here, especially at night."

"thank you. i really appreciate it.”

“of course. anything else you need? ima go lock up the shop, feed the cat, then i’ll be back up.” 

“you got some food? if i knew this'd happen i wouldn't have left spaghetti on the stove,” you roll your lips inward after giggling. 

he finds you incredibly cute. chuckles and nods. "lucky for you, he’s got a stockpile of food in here. let me do some grocery shopping for lunch breaks. i can make some ramen. you like that?" he suggests.

your stomach growls at the thought, both of you hearing it and sharing a wholehearted laugh. "yeah, that'd be awesome actually."

"cool. i’ll be right back.” 

you get accustomed to the area you’re in, taking a seat on the sofa and wrapping yourself up into the blankets for warmth. you checked your phone to see if you had any service and possibly contact your parents, but there was no luck. even though the texts sent through green, it was better to send it just in case you’d gain connection once the power cut back on. it didn’t take long for armin to come back up, giving you a sweet smile while he heads towards the fridge to grab some ingredients. thankfully, he had a gas stove to work with.

"talk to me, cutie. i don't want you to be nervous around me."

you pause, a bit taken aback by the pet name. ignoring the way your face just heated up. “okay. what do you w’na talk about?"

"you said you have a flight tomorrow. where to?"

"uh, my parents live across country,” picking at the blanket with your nails, you study his movements. how quickly his wrist moves when cutting vegetables. god. “we're supposed to meet up for a family get together. horse riding, fishing, cook outs . . the usual."

armin listens intently, interested in getting to know you. "you can ride a horse?"

"yeah, i mean . . i don't do it as often anymore, but i'm decent at it. i'm actually more excited about the fishing. i haven't done that in a while."

"what's the biggest thing you've caught?"

"hmm, that's a tough one. there was this pretty big bass i caught when i was sixteen. i remember it took like thirty minutes to reel it in. me and my uncle cooked it up real good with some grits,” you reply, recalling the memory with a smile. "what about you? fan of fishing?"

"not really my hobby. i'll probably sound like a old man myself, but i'm into chess and shit. pottery is a thing of mine as well."

"ooo, pottery. i've always wanted to do something new like that. i’ll push it up in my list of hobbies."

"i could teach you. it's not hard. not really," he smirks, "i'm always looking for another person to play with. tease a lil', make 'em think they're doing good." 

this is flirting. has to be. so of course, you play along. "hm, masochist. am i your next victim?" 

armin chuckles and cocks an eyebrow at your question. "are you implying something?" he teases, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk.

"not implying, just prying."

“next topic,” he winks causing you to roll your eyes. 

trying to figure out what else to say, you twiddle your manicured fingers in thought. "it's sweet of you to look over the library while mister arlert's gone. most people would let it rot and go about their lives."

“honestly, he’s done a lot for me so it was never g’na be a hesitation when i found out the news. i’ve always kept to myself, even as a kid. i find comfort in books and silence, and i guess that’s why i enjoy spending time here. i get to shut off my brain.” 

“you sound pretty reserved. i admire that. it's cute." 

the sound of the storm outside provides a soothing background noise along with the warmth from the candles. armin’s finished cooking the ramen. using store bought packs of shin and adding miso paste, kewpie mayo, eggs, scallions, and even some rotisserie chicken. the ramen tastes delicious and makes you feel warm. the conversations you have flows effortlessly and makes time pass as the two of you trade stories and laugh at each other's jokes.

by now, the attraction is mutual. unexpected deep topics were spoken of and the two of you found each other sitting body to body, sharing warmth. armin’s got his arm thrown behind the back of the futon where you sit, thighs spread apart while you sit cutely beside him bundled under the blankets. legs crossed, eyes and scent encompassing his. 

as the conversation begins to lull, armin glances towards the window and notices that the storm seems to be dying down. "hey, looks like the rain’s starting to let up," he observes. 

you glance over your shoulder, seeing that it’s lighter outside, meaning it’s dawn now and you’ve been chatting for hours. “oh . . yeah, i think i hear the recovery workers.” 

the thought of leaving armin in possibility that you won’t see each other for a while feels like a knife to your gut. you’re drawn to him in a way that surprises you. the night is coming to an end, so you find yourself reluctant to say goodbye. you want something more, something passionate.

without realizing it, your gaze drifts to armin’s lips. they look soft and inviting, and the desire to feel them against yours is almost overwhelming. the air between you two suddenly feels charged with eroticism. it’s as if you're both feeling the same pull, the same desperate need to touch more than you were. 

"you can't kiss me." 

his words.

it seems to break the spell that had enveloped the room. your eyes widen in surprise, expression shifting from desire to confusion.

"what?" you weren’t sure if you heard him correctly.

"it's just . . if you kiss me, it'll turn into something else."

your expression softens, and a small smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. "is that a bad thing?"  

he makes you anxious, his fingertips tracing the exposed skin of your hips, your body shivering. the room suddenly feels unbearably hot, and your heart is pounding in your chest. armin’s found himself torn between wanting to pull away and wanting to press you against him. 

“no, but i'll get addicted and want you more,” he murmurs, tone low and sensual. “don’t think this is the right setting right now. you deserve more.” 

“and what's so wrong with wanting more?" you’re moving even closer to him, chest pressing up on his side. 

his fingers continue to trace small circles against your skin, armin’s eyes going gray at your words. the proximity makes it difficult for him to think straight, and his desire for you is growing stronger by the second. but, he’s also aware of the danger of giving in to this passion. he could feel his resolve weakening, but he tries to steady himself. 

the more you think about it, maybe this wasn’t the appropriate setting nor time. you’ve just met this man and only known him for a couple of hours. a few good conversations were had, he cooked you some top quality ramen even under the circumstances, he’s beautiful . . but, you didn’t want to regret it if something did happen now. so it’d be best to wait. 

"you know what, maybe . . this isn't a good idea. you’re right," you manage to stammer out. but your protest is weakening as armin closes what little distance is left between you, breath warm on your neck where his lips go to kiss. 

“nah, i’m wrong. fuck it,” he rasps by your ear, opening his mouth fully to latch onto the sensitive area of your neck. his tongue follows in a sloppy kiss, hand coming up to grab you by the neck. 

a gasp falters when you feel how hot his hand was on your skin, clutching your neck entirely in his grasp, squeezing your thighs tight and scrunching your face up from pleasure. his kisses are audible, making it known how bad he wants you. your sweater begins to slip off your shoulders as he maneuvers his way down to your chest, groping and inching both of his hands inside of your top to smooth them down towards your sides and reaching your hips briefly. hotly gripping at your flesh. 

“armin,” a weak whimper. “we shouldn’t.” 

armin catches your wrist the moment you go to stand abruptly, yanking you back towards his chest and towering over you in the process, his gaze darkening as he glares down at you. 

"i want your taste on my lips. c’mon, bunny.” 

his soft plea sends a jolt through you, fingers entwining with your own before he’s guiding that arm behind your back and resting it on your ass he uses as leverage to press you up against the bulge in his jeans, body bending backwards slightly to give yourself some air to breathe. and when he does this thing, like wind his waist to rub his clothed dick against you with a snarky ‘mhm’ blown out with frustrated air — it sends you into a state of blurriness. his scent envelops your senses, growing weaker in his hold as you stare up at him with need.  

“i —” you can’t understand why you're protesting. you knew you wanted him, and it’s clearly mutual. he just scares you, in a really good way. you fear that if you have sex with this man, it wouldn’t be the end of it. and possibly could progress to more. 

“say yes so i know you want it, then sit back down.” 

it’s clear you both didn’t care about the situation you were in anymore. you just needed it, bad. done playing cat and mouse. swallowing from his switch of demeanor, you slowly nod. 

“yes.”

so, you sit. lowering your body while training your eyes to stay on his. you’ve removed your sweater completely, tits exposed to the cool air of the attic as the straps cling to your arms. he thinks you look fucking yummy. he damn near could salivate. 

taking his seat back beside you, armin’s stretching his hands to pull your top down to your stomach, grazing your skin passionately but with notions of aggression. he wants to be sweet to you, he’ll try. he’s got his back to the couch again, spreading his thighs to give relief of the blood rushing to his dick. brushing a hand through his hair, you watch in fascination as the follicles bounce back in front of his eyes, his hand coming to unbutton his jeans as he rubs your thighs and catches your soft lips back onto his. 

it’s more aggressive this time, swallowing your lips and grazing tongues, noses smushed. you suck on his tongue, grinding in your spot and trailing your hands towards his jeans, helping him tug them down to sit at his thighs. unlatching your mouths, armin grips your chin, thick fingers indenting into your cheeks before giving you another rough kiss, his pupils blown. 

“come spit on it,” he rasps.

moaning from the way he spoke, he’s guiding your face down with the hold on your jaw, brows furrowed and pink, plush lips going agape as your dainty hands pulls his cock out of his briefs. when you see it, it makes all the more sense why he acts and talks the way he does. 

“mmph,” you moan in awe almost, fitting both of your hands around it as it throbs in your possession. “s’so pretty, ‘min.”

“yeah? . . is it too much for you?” 

that makes you grin. “mm-mm,” you deny. “i like it.” 

whatever overcomes you the moment he shifts his hips in silent plead and grips at your ponytail tight could only be adored from his view. with both of your palms wrapped around his dick; fat, curved towards his stomach with a tinted pink tip. one hefty muscle protruding the underside that you know will feel so good when he slips it in. and cutely, a beauty mark or two. his pubes are neatly trimmed, as blonde as his pretty hair. you’re drooling at this point. and you use that to salivate over his dick, armin practically dragging your head towards his dick and moaning when you do as you were told and coat it with spit. 

“yeahh — unh, good girl,” armin hisses, groaning and adjusting himself in his seat as you stroke your hand at the base, leading your way up and over the flushed head. 

he doesn’t expect you to do it, you really didn’t have to, but he’s not hellbent on stopping you either. the minute you hike yourself up so you’re arching over him, armin’s smoothing his hand over your ass now raised up and whimpering when your mouth engulfs half of his dick with a greedy moan. 

“ooh, that’s good baby. yes,” it twitches on your tongue that’s planted at the base as you suckle and drag your lips over either side. 

swaying your hips, armin sucks on his bottom lip before landing a hit to your ass, taking a handful of the fat of it after. your throats sinking further, tasting all of him while he’s raising his hips to gently fuck into your mouth. his head gets thrown back, lips parting and releasing gasps when you go to clutch his throat, pushing his head further back so it touches the wall behind, and slurping at his dick sloppily. 

“oh my god, gimme that,” armin can’t help the way his eyes roll back into his skull, unable to properly breathe. every time he tries to silence a moan, it’d come out higher pitched than the other, alternating between rough groans and whimpers. 

the gags coming from your throat along with the paced bobs of your head makes him clutch your neck to pull you up, smashing his lips on yours and roaming his hands down your thighs. he couldn’t wait any longer. if you feel that good through your mouth, he could only dream of how your pussy felt. 

catching your breath, he’s swiping a thumb over your lips to clean you up, your body mindlessly gravitating towards him, bug-eyed and nibbling at your lips.

“take these off ,” he whispers, biting his lip as he tugs on your shorts. “gotta taste you. i know it’s fuckin’ wet.” 

the quicker you tugged them off, the faster your heart pounded. armin situates himself by laying back on the sofa, politely taking your hand and carefully leading you up to sit on his face. his dick is heavy on his stomach, your thighs hovered over his head and crouching your pussy just enough for him to inhale your essence. it’s glistening in shiny slick, precious bud hiding underneath puffy pillows from his direct view. 

“every part of you is gorgeous as fuck,” armin groans, lifting one of his legs to plant on the sofa while he levels his head at just the right spot to catch your clit before you could even utter a word.

he’s kneading the flesh of your ass in his veiny hands, pushing and rocking you on his fat tongue as you listen to the incredulous sound of him slurping. you can’t speak, mewling while locking your lips beneath your teeth, threading your fingers through his fluffy hair to yank on. he’s sucking you up, all of your flavors, puffy lips enclosing around your achy clit, tasting heavenly on his palate. 

"she's such a loud girl.” thwack! it’s a hard hit he lands on your ass while grunting, your stomach rolling inward from the heat that illuminates your entire body. legs vibrating and moans breathless. “let me slip my fingers in, huh? make me fit.” 

“uh huh, yesplease.” 

gyrating your pussy into his mouth, you’re leaning further down till his nose is mushed to your clit, armin giving an audible, nasty open mouthed kiss before rubbing two fingers against his tongue, parting your folds and slowly sinking them in, armin landing a smack on your ass again to feel you pulsate and clench. in the moment, he’s unable to keep his waist from grinding upwards, dick twitching, practically humping the air as he drowns his face in your cunt.

“fuck, your fingers make me feel s’full,” you cry out, scooting so he could dip them deeper. the tingles are rushing to the pit of your stomach, lifting and dropping your ass back onto his fingers. “can i fuck them?” 

shit, you really got him spent. “yes, baby. ‘fuckin course you can. such a good baby for asking.” 

the way he speaks to you is crucial for your arousal. your moans flow out almost thankfully for that. it’s like he knows exactly what to say to you. you wish you could see his face squished under you, you know in your soul he looked messy, and you fear seeing him like that would make you squirt on the spot. a proper, sweet talking, respectful man completely losing himself in your pussy. it’s hot.

“good girl, biiig stretch.” they’re moving in coordination; the speed of his fingers and the pressure of his mouth sucking and swallowing at you. he’s loud when he does it, too. like, whimpering along with you, loud. 

“f-fuck, my tummy,” whining, you never stop your hips from swaying. voice breaking and trying your best to keep your mouth from drooling. everything felt so, so good. “anh, armin! ‘m g’na cum.” 

“all in my mouth, alright?” 

the grip of your pussy around his fingers is maddening. shoving them in and out at a steady pace and purposely thrumming against that spongy spot. you’re grinding on his face while maintaining your clasp on his scalp and the couch. when you cum, armin makes sure he keeps at his rhythm while thrashing his tongue heavily on your bud, holding his breath with you and letting you groan intensely while he follows pursuit. gasp’s ensuing.

“fuckk, good bunny. c’mere,” chin doused with your juices, he slams a palm on your ass and trails his hands to lay you flat on your tummy. 

too out of it to think of what he was doing next, you clutch onto the sofa with your cheek flat to the furniture, catching your breath and trying to fix the blur of your sight. you listen to him shuffling to find something in the room, smiling into your arm when you feel his touch on you again, smoothing his big and surprisingly baby soft palms up the back of your thighs leading to your ass. 

armin hovers over you, patting the shape of your butt with his dick a few times before you hear him rip a condom with his teeth. he’s bending to kiss at your back, shuddering from the new sensation when it gets sloppier. tongue lolling out to drag up your spine following suite with passionate kisses. his hair is disheveled, tickling at your forehead when he goes to kiss your temple, then your nose, then your lips.

rolling the condom onto his dick, he slaps it at your pussy, biting his lip as he listens to the lewd sound of wetness. then, while taking his time does he begin to slide in, the tip alone making you squeak and grip at the sofa. mouth agape, you unabashedly rock your ass back, impatience settling in. 

“m-mmgh,” the rumble in your throat is stammered, his weight on you making it impossible to escape. trapped in, no running, free use for him. 

“keep your thighs pressed together,” armin whispers. 

the feeling of his skin on yours sets you ablaze. he’s removed all of his garments because he couldn’t bare not having your skin against his. the hairs on his muscular thighs and legs scraping on yours as he works his way deeper in your pussy made your eyes shift to white. the path of his toned abdomen on your backside, the plush of his lips on your temple, and then the hot hand he clutches your throat in as his elbow rests on the sofa makes you fucking dizzy. 

breath mingling with yours, sharing moans when his dick is fully in, armin hisses in your ear, sunshine hair drifting upon your sight, nudging just where you begged for him to be. the possession of your throat in his lock gets tighter, carefully subduing your airway while making sure you could still breathe enough. this kind of intimacy wasn’t what you expected from him. not at all. 

it starts off slow. handling you with respect for a sum of minutes until he’s stuffing you full, forcing you to take it all. gummy walls suffocating his cock. tendrils stick to your face, hair falling from its perfect bow causing your hair to swarm around your features flawlessly in layers. as if you couldn’t get prettier. 

“hu—uh,” armin’s brokenly moaning, sharp hips slamming down onto your plump ass, recoiling from every hit. it starts steady, but every pound transcends rougher, harder. 

“oooo, s-shit,” you stammer out, face screwing up before you release a quiet scream. “k-keep your dick right there, baby. you’re on my spot.” 

“fuuck, yess. that's where i want it,” he’s grunting in your face, brows furrowed as he gets buried in the pleasure of you, cunt sloppy and squelching from each draw back and dip of his dick. 

skin clapping, breaths inordinate, he’s fucking you. it’s almost embarrassing how loud you were, moaning in syllables after every pound and wanting to scramble away from the unutterable pleasure of him, his tone, and body heat. he smells like the cleanest linen with hints of jasmine. a fucking trip.

armin can say the same for you. everything about you overtakes his mind. he loves the way you talk, mannered and sweet. loves the way you smell, like wild strawberries. the fullness of your lips when his are immersed. the twinkle in your feline eyes when you admire him. you’re smart, beautiful, and taste real good. that’s an issue. 

“prettiest fuckin' bunny ever,” now he’s licking at the shell of your ear, tracing from there to the underside of your jaw. it’s got you so heated. 

there’s that pet name again. it came from a joke he had made during your conversations earlier. how you bounce in your spot when contemplating what to say or just anxious. but now you’re really moving like one. whining and pawing at the furniture while weighing your ass back each time he grinds forward. 

“take me, take me — fuck,” you’re full on crying now, skin sticking to each others, sockets full of tears and losing your mobility. 

armin’s face is flushed, tinted red nearly. he takes your right arm and throws it over his neck, armin’s mouth finding the peaks of your nipples to eat at greedily, other hand pressing down on your arch for better balance before he’s inching halfway out and striking forcefully. he studies the fall of your jaw, tossing your head back and shuddering out your noises. he’s moaning in your chest, fucking you harder. the way you choke yourself and stare at him makes him lose his mind. 

“m’c-cumminggg,” dragging out whines, you raise your knee up higher which his body is planted on, squealing as his balls collide with your clit now that there’s room. 

armin doesn’t intentionally do it out of irritation or anything, but he’s quick to toss your arm off of him and take hold of your hips, deepening your arch, forearms popped out with veins bulging and fucking into you with crudeness. forgetting he cared about you momentarily just to cum. still staying where he needed to please you. 

“me too, fuck. me too . . fuckk.” 

the warmth of him embracing you with strong arms burying your head and cumming first. it’s not long after when you’re frantically squeezing your thighs together and humming gravely, armin humping slow to ease your quivering. neither of you wanted to move. glued in the same position sharing intimate, slow, sloppy kisses. tracing each others skin delicately with the pads of your fingers, smiling like idiots and cracking small jokes. 

you’d fallen asleep before him, waking up to a brightly lit attic and the smell of cigarettes, tucked under comfy blankets and rubbing your eyes to find armin sitting at the loveseat manspreading and smoking a quick cigarette — watching you. it was cute, until you began coughing and he immediately apologized. the roads were long cleaned up, debris in mass areas of the city. it was finally time to head home. 

you got his number, rescheduled your flight for early next morning, and he promised he’d call you when you’ve safely arrived, excited to hear your voice say his name again. 

© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not copy, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡

[toji-bunny-girl]

You don't go to the library to study. You go there to have your cunt stuffed, by nonother than librarian!Gojo.

He works there 5 days a week, and you made sure to be there by your corner every single one of those days, carefully staring at him through the side of your book. Of course, he's well aware of your interest in him. You're so preoccupied with him you don't even realise you're holding the book upside down.

He doesn't realise it yet but he's slow to share the same amount of attraction to you as you are to him. He'd note the way your eyebrows would adorably scrunch together when you're actually doing your assignment for once, and you'd collapse face down onto the table when the frustration and exhaustion caught up to you. Or how your favourite colour seemed to be pink, your stationery and laptop covered in different shades of the colour.

He's used to your presence by now, having spent the last couple of weeks observing you just as you stalked him through the library. And truth to be told, he actually enjoyed it—he's got a cutie following behind him, too shy to strike up a conversation with him and too dumb to hide your little crush any better.

You quickly became the only part of his job he would look forward to, questioning what kind of crap you were going to pull up to just right before his shift. Until you're gone all of a sudden.

Maybe you were just late, he thought on the first day of your absence. Or maybe you're sick by the second day. Perhaps you're just busy with school…or maybe some another guy—

Why does he even care in the first place? You're just some stalker with a pretty face, nothing special out of the sea of girls in his DMs. Gojo doesn't like how he's fretting over a girl who he hasn't talked to before, your presence doesn't control how his day goes anyway.

Until it does.

It exasperated him by how he allowed himself to be subjugated under you. He can't focus on his seminars when the voices in his head wonder about you louder than the lecturer's, he can't flirt with the chicks on campus without thinking about that fangirl from the library and he can't sleep if his head is filled with the images of you with another guy.

What kind of spell have you managed to put him under?

He was completely and utterly chafed by the next week when he entered his shift, a frown seemingly marked permanently upon his face as he went through his chores, putting away the books back to their categorised shelves. That was until he heard a familiar pit-pats of your shoes, and saw your figure stupidly hiding behind a bookshelf from the side of his eye.

His playful spirit returned when he noted your presence, and he wandered further into the library, where no one could see the two of you. As expected, you shuffled along his steps before slipping yourself into the aisle behind him, pretending to flick through the choices of books on display.

Those were Chinese novels, and you majored in Biochemistry. Idiot, he thought with an internal chuckle.

Unbeknownst to you, he had strolled to your back, waiting for you to turn to face him. Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when you found him standing right in front of you, and you froze then and there like a deer in the headlights.

"I know you've been stalking me around here," he had a shit-eating smirk on his face as his arms rested by your sides to trap you in between them. "Freak," he whispered next to your ears, sending a tingle through your nerves.

"I-I, ah—" you stammered, trying to collect your words to sound coherent. Your face was flushed bloody red with embarrassment, and Gojo was sure he'd burn himself if he were to touch you.

"But that's okay…" he drawled. "I won't spread the word if you listen to me."

Your eyes were wide, gaping at him through your lashes as you nodded.

Fuck, were you adorable.

"You like me, huh?"

"Uhm…I, uh…"

"Hm?"

"Y-Yes," you blurted with your eyes squeezed shut, too embarrassed. Your breath was hot, and they scorched his cheeks red upon your words.

"What do you like about me?" oh god does he love teasing the hell out of you.

"Your f-face…"

"My face?" he feigned dumb. Of course, he's well aware that girls would only come chasing after his looks. But he absolutely enjoyed torturing you with his stupid questions. "Which part of my face?"

"Huh…?" your eyes were spinning, your hands raising to push his frame a little away for your comfort.

"My eyes? My nose?" his bigger hand captured the two of yours into his grasp, his fingers were icy cold against yours, and his face neared yours once again, merely a breath away. "Or my lips?"

You didn't dare to answer, the sound of your throat gulping filled the air as a few stray hairs of his tickled your cheek. His eyes peered towards yours, catching your gaze that fell upon his lips.

"There, huh?" Gojo's smirk widened, his grip on your wrists tightening a fraction. "Wanna try them?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words left your trembling lips, except for a silent gasp. He took the shift of your feature as a sign for him to advance onto you, his lips gently sucked on your soft flesh, the tiniest amount of your saliva flowed onto his tongue and they tasted better than the finest honey.

A string of your mixed essence connected his lips to yours, red and swollen as a sign of his kiss, when he pulled away. Your knees weakened in enfeeblement, and Gojo caught you before you could fall to the ground.

"You're done?" his arms are strong, and you could feel his muscles flex under your hand when you gathered your strength to stabilise on your feet. "I'm not."

His touches slowly trailed down from your arm to your hips, and you subconsciously rubbed your thighs together when his gaze fell onto them. In his eyes you could see a growing hunger that lurked beneath his bright blue eyes, it was the darker gradient that hung low in his orbs.

"Do you touch yourself here when you think of me?" your teeth sank into the flesh of your bottom lip and your eyes peered down to between your skirt, where his hand was as you vaguely nodded; hoping that he didn't see the faint motion of your head.

How wouldn't he know when all his attention is on you? His eyes scanned the faint shifts in your features when he pressed against your heat, making sure there wasn't any hint of dissent to his touch—and mostly searching for the muted salacity behind your pretty eyes.

"Sometimes…" your voice was meek, but it was audible enough for his ear to twitch at your words. His chest almost burst to your confession, and the images of your features twisting into lewd faces flashed past his mind, calling out his name with that sweet voice of yours.

A soft moan left your lips when his fingers slipped past your pink panty, drawing slow circles upon your clit. Your hips bucked as he teased, his other hand coming down to palm your ass.

"What about I make you feel good?" he gently asked, and you drunkenly nodded to your pleasure. His thumb grew charge of teasing your hardening bud, his two long fingers dipped into your already-slick cavern, reaching the sensitive parts of your inside.

Your lips tensed into a line to quell the moans that drew from your itching tummy, and your hands rested on Gojo's chest, gripping onto his shirt for support.

His fingers grew greedy for more of your whimpers, stroking past your walls, searching for the velvety spot in you. You threw your head back when he found the part he was looking for, pumping out and into the spongey surface, stimulating your nerves to their limit.

Your eyebrows furrowed and your eyelids flew shut when he expedited the speed of his slick-coated digits, his arm growing slightly sore as he carried you to the height of your orgasm. His cock twitched when you drew out a cry of pleasure, your breath stuck in your throat as your mind went blank from your high.

Your grip on his clothes loosened, and you panted as you rest your weight against the shelves, Gojo's damp fingers evident of the pleasure he delivered to you. He watched as you collected your remaining breath, your cheeks flushed pink in arousal and your eyesight slowly blinked clear.

A bolt flash of surprise ran through his eyes when you carefully pulled his pants down, gripping his hardened girth with your warm hands. Gojo stopped you with a grab of your wrist, your whole body tensing in creeping embarrassment—he doesn't like it when you touch him?

Your thoughts flew out the window when he spat onto your palm, before guiding your hand back to his throbbing cock. Your mind grew blank as you began fisting his length, his breath hitching when you rubbed over his pinkish-red tip.

Your touches were filled with careful inexperience, and Gojo found it absolutely fucking adorable. The soft squelching of his saliva in your hand as you pumped his cock filled the air, and he inched closer to kiss you once again.

His groans flowed into your mouth as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, drinking in the taste of you as you pleased him. You seemed to be a quick learner on your own, pumping his pulsing cock faster, gripping onto him tighter, and rubbing his sensitive tip of all.

His hips stuttered along with the movements of your hand, a sign of his close release and you were clearly relentless to please him. Your pace doesn't falter, but fastened instead and his moans muffled through your sloppy kiss, your mixed drool dripping down your chin and onto your chest.

"Fuck," his voice cracked as his cock twitched, before ejaculating his hot semen onto your clothes, slowly dripping down to your thigh. Your breaths mingled in the sultry air, the smell of your essences filled your nostrils as the both of you cooled from the aftermath of your highs.

You recognised the dirty smirk on his face when you flicked your gaze up at him, and you sank into the bookshelf in preparation for what he had conjured up in his mind.

"The library closes in 30 minutes, we'll get the whole place to ourselves by then."

[wcters]

ROMANCE IS NOT DEAD IF YOU KEEP IT JUST YOURS

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: alex’s best friend and lando norris meet and something blossoms between them during a project the two are starting

warnings/contents: A rumours, hate, i do not know the whole magui situation, the comments are for the story

author’s note: i absolutely do not affiliate with any of the beliefs of the people in here and do not support israel, faceclaim is shira klein as requested, i don’t think the international uni of monaco has a fashion program but let’s pretend it does for a hot minute

yourusername

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, yourclassmate, and 1,083 others

yourusername school is kicking my ass rn

view all 38 comments

alexandrasaintmleux my talented best friend 💗💗

↳ yourusername marry me

↳ alexandrasaintmleux yes!

↳ charles_leclerc 🤨🤨🤨

↳ yourusername sorry not sorry 🤷‍♀️

user1 you’re living the dream

yourclassmate no cause why is our professer so hard on us

francisca.cgomes pretty girl 🫠❤️

user2 how is the program there?

↳ yourusername it’s good! very nice people and teachers. i just like to complain 😔

alexandrasaintmleux

liked by yourusername, iamrebeccad, and 320,763 others

alexandrasaintmleux 🍓🍓🍓 dress by the best girl @yourusername

view all 1,012 comments

iamrebeccad beautiful 💕

user1 who is yourusername?

↳ user2 alex’s best friend! she goes to the international university of monaco studying fashion

yourusername i am blushing so hard 😚😚

↳ alexandrasaintmleux love youu

francisa.cgomes 😍😍

user3 fit made by y/n never fails

f1gossip

liked by user1, user2, and 74,974 others

f1gossip alex’s best friend, y/n y/l/n seen in the ferrari garage at the dutch grand prix. she was also seen congratulating lando on his win. what do you think about this? 🤔

view all 218 comments

user1 after magui i’m done

user2 not ANOTHER one

↳ user3 what do you mean?

↳ user2 this is like the sixth girl he’s been seen with

user4 love seeing y/n and alex together 💗

user5 she needs to stay away from him

author i know the timeline doesn’t match up with school semesters but let’s play pretend 😁����

yourusername

liked by landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux, and 1,103 others

yourusername new project loading . . .

view all 32 comments

alexandrasaintmleux se excited to see the outcome of this one!

user1 girl tell usss 😫😫

yourclassmate i’m still coming up with an idea 😭😭

↳ yourusername   let’s meet up at the library and we can brains together together

↳ yourclassmate you’re my saviour

user2 my dream life

user3 cutie

user4 who’s the man

↳ yourusername   🤫🤫

f1gossip

liked by user1, user2, and 87,025 others 

f1gossip   lando norris seen meeting up with someone who has a striking resemblance to y/n y/l/n, alexandra saint mleux’s best friend. they then made their way to the international university of monaca? does this confirm its lando and y/n?

view all 235 comments

user1 we need to lando and his love life aloneee

user2 first magui and now her? this man is not slowing down

user3 why is he getting with a uni student?

user4 she’s probably just getting with him to get her and alex more attention

↳ user5 her account is literally private? 💀💀

user6 these lando fans need to chill

user7 at least this one’s smart 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

f1gossip

liked by user1, user2, and 87,963 others

f1gossip lando seen with the same girl before but at a restaurant this time. do we think it’s a date?

view all 233 comments

user1 she’s actually so ugly

user2 at this point i’d rather him be with magui 🤦‍♀️

user3 isn’t she a fashion student? shes probably a good digger

user4 she looks pretty

↳ user5 pretty ugly 🤢

yourusername

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris, and 1,487 others

yourusername the look of love, the rush of blood

view all 42 comments

alexandrasaintmleux so happy for you 💗🥺

↳ yourusername   i love you alex ❤️

user1 arctic monkeys reference !!!

yourclassmate this is why you have so many new ideas 🤨🤨

landonorris ❤️❤️

user2 i’m so jealous rn

niña bonita 😚

i don’t know if this is going to work

niña bonita 😚

if what’s going to work?

me and lando

the hate is crazy and i don’t know if i can handle it

niña bonita 😚

ma belle ☹️☹️

have you tried talking to him?

i don’t want to worry him with it

he already gets enough as it is

niña bonita 😚

oh y/n

whatever you think will help you more mentally and physically, do it

but please tell him. he would hate himself if he knew this was happening and you didn’t tell him

charles is the same

like, i know they don’t know it’s me, that’s just speculation

but they’re still taking digs at ME

what i look like, sound like, what i do

niña bonita 😚

i know honey

and you shouldn’t feel guilty for feeling like this either

and before you say you aren’t, you are. i know you

you are NEVER alone. ever.

not with me, not with lando, not with anyone

please don’t go through this alone love 💗

te amo mucho 🥺🥺🥺 (i love you so much)

niña bonita 😚

yo también te amo ❤️

now go and get that takeout you like. i know you’re questioning to or not

f1gossip

liked by user1, user2, and 100,368 others

f1gossip according to a fan, lando’s new girlfriend is y/n y/l/n! she’s a fashion student at the international university of monaco and are best friends with alexandra saint mleux. they were seen together holding hands and kissing. y/n also was there when the fan got a picture with lando

view all 364 comments

user1 she looks like a bitch

user2 she’s probably just using him for clout

user3 she’s not pretty enough to be his girlfriend 🤢🤢

user4 she’s so beautiful

user5 go back to the models @landonorris

landonorris

liked by yourusername, alexandrasaintmleux, and 1,297,034 others

landonorris yes. i do have a girlfriend. no, it is not your business, but yet you’ve made it your business. we wanted to keep it private but now we can’t. the hate that my girlfriend, and any girl seen with me, has been getting is ridiculous. my girlfriend is the sweetest person in the world, and you don’t even bother to try to get to know her before you run her name through the dirt. i have been silent on this for too long. forgive me, my love.

i am so proud of you and what you are doing. thank you for giving me a chance (and saving my style, apparently) ❤️

comments have been disabled

[monserelates]

Clueless Idiots ; James Potter.

⇨f!reader x james potter

⇨summary: Just Y/N and James being clueless little cuties.

⇨warnings/notes: fluff fluff fluff fluffy fluff, use of y/n, reader is female, she and james are really oblivious

⇨a/n: once again with my favorite trope 🥹, I just love writing about James and writing fluff. If you guys have any requests you can definitely share them i’d be really grateful! Hope you enjoy <3

There were very few constants at Hogwarts.

One: Filch’s cat was always watching.

Two: The fourth step on the Charms staircase would always try to eat your foot.

And three: James Potter and Y/N Y/L/N were practically glued at the hip.

It wasn’t official. Of course not. Because nothing was ever that easy with the two of them. They were best friends, partners-in-crime, even, and the subject of at least two weekly betting pools run by both the Gryffindor Common Room and the Hogwarts staff lounge.

“Oh, come on,” McGonnagall muttered behind her teacup one morning as the pair entered the Great Hall, James slinging his arm over Y/N’s shoulder, Y/N stealing a bit of toast from his plate without blinking. “If he tucks her hair behind her ear one more time, I’m raising my bet to ten Galleons.”

Dumbledore sipped his coffee, smiling fondly. “They remind me of a young Lily and James.”

“They are James and—never mind.”

“Minerva,” Sprout said gently, “they’re teenagers. You can’t force these things.”

“I’m not forcing anything. I’m simply pointing out that if they don’t confess by Valentine’s Day, I’m deducting points for excessive obliviousness.”

Meanwhile, back at the Gryffindor table:

“Do you think I’d look good with a moustache?” James asked, munching on bacon.

Y/N wrinkled her nose. “What kind of question is that?”

“You didn’t say no.”

“I’m saying absolutely not. You’d look like an undercover Auror going through a midlife crisis.”

James grinned. “So… no moustache.”

“Not if you want me to keep sitting next to you.”

He paused for half a second—half a second too long—and then laughed.

She didn’t notice. Or at least she pretended not to.

Sirius, sitting across from them, rolled his eyes so hard he nearly fell off the bench. “You two are unbearable.”

Remus didn’t look up from his book. “It’s like watching two penguins try to flirt by throwing fish at each other.”

“Penguins?”

“Very monogamous creatures,” Remus said. “Mate for life.”

Y/N blinked. “That’s oddly sweet.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

James reached for more toast and brushed her hand accidentally. Their eyes locked for one second too long.

Sirius groaned into his pumpkin juice.

⸻

Later that day, the pair was in the library, sharing one textbook, their knees brushing under the table. Y/N didn’t flinch. James did. Barely. Just enough to notice.

“Did you finish your Potions essay?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he lied.

“You’re lying.”

“Yeah,” he admitted.

She snorted. “Come on, Potter, focus.”

“You said my last one was ‘shockingly decent.’ That’s high praise.”

“I meant its like a shocked cat watching fireworks, but sure.”

He grinned.

They were so close, heads bent together, she could see the tiny freckle beneath his left eye. He smelled like broomstick polish and cinnamon.

She looked away first.

⸻

That weekend, they sat together at the Ravenclaw versus Slytherin quidditch match, they had bet 10 galleons that Ravenclaw will win—James with one arm slung lazily around the back of her seat, Y/N leaning into his side to shout over the noise.

“Ten more points and we win!”

“I’ll take you to Honeydukes if we do!”

“You always take me to Honeydukes!”

“Then I’ll buy you everything in the front window.”

“Even the sugar quills?”

“Especially the sugar quills.”

Lily leaned over to Marlene. “Do you think they know they’re flirting?”

Marlene raised an eyebrow. “Do you think Hogsmeade knows they’re flirting?”

⸻

Later, as the Gryffindors spilled back into the common room, James and Y/N flopped onto the couch together. James didn’t hesitate before pulling her legs into his lap.

“Oi, Y/N,” he said, grinning, “you ever going to tell me your type?”

She sipped her butterbeer. “I don’t have one.”

“Liar.”

“Okay, fine. I like boys who are funny. And brave. And maybe a little too loyal for their own good.”

His smile faltered for half a second.

“And,” she added, “he’d have to care a lot. Like… secretly-loves-dogs, picks-flowers-he-won’t-admit-to, remembers-how-I-take-my-tea kind of caring.”

He blinked.

“Oh.”

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

Remus, passing behind the couch, muttered, “I swear to Merlin, if one of you doesn’t kiss the other in the next forty-eight hours, I’m hexing both of you into next week.”

"What's that, moony?" You asked, oblivious.

"Oh, nothing. I was just talking to myself,"

⸻

Back in the staff lounge, the betting board had been updated:

“Confession before Halloween – 3 Galleons”

“Caught kissing in a broom closet – 5 Galleons”

“They still don’t know they’re in love – priceless”

“I’m changing my bet,” Sprout said cheerfully. “Two Galleons on Y/N realizing first.”

“I say it’s Potter,” said Slughorn. “He’s been writing her name in his notes for months.”

McGonagall smirked. “I’ll double it if it’s her who kisses him.”

⸻

That night, as the fire crackled low and the common room emptied out, James stretched.

“I should go to bed.”

Y/N didn’t move. “’Night, James.”

But he didn’t go.

Instead, he leaned down slowly, close enough for her to see the freckles on his nose and the look in his eyes.

“Goodnight, Y/N.

She blinked.

For a second, she thought he was going to kiss her.

For a second, she almost let him.

But then—

He straightened up, ruffled her hair, and walked off to the boys’ dorms.

And she sat there, heart thudding, cursing the universe and every stupid bet McGonagall was definitely winning.

[hoshigray]

𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 | satoru gojō

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Is it possible to wish to be in the embrace of someone who makes you want to throw them off a cliff? You seem to think so, and the same goes for Gojo. But alas, good things always come to an end, even when not meant to be...

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern + college AU - frenemies to lovers + mutual pining - Gojo and reader are at least age 20 - implied fwb relationship - catching/awakening feelings - oral (m! receiving) - ball massaging + sucking - sex in a shared room; college dorms (alone) - cowgirl position on a chair - breast fondling + sucking + nipple play - protected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, pretty, princess) - heavy depiction of a blowjob - cameos: Haibara and Ijichi - fluff + angst; misunderstandings - humor bc i'm [not] funny.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.6k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: second part, let's goooo!! i loved ur support and comments from the first story, so hope y'all are excited for this part :DDD and ty so so so MUCH for 5.5k like??? i kiss you on cheek, every single on of you, hehehe~

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“If you’re not gonna help, then leave my dorm!”

“Ehhhh, hell no! It’s cold as fuck outside; you want me to freeze to death?”

“They’re…still going at it.”

“Yeah…give it a minute, and we’ll just go to the library without them?”

It’s coming down to the last week of January; university students are finally settling in with their new schedules and getting used to the groove of the spring semester. Or some run around trying to keep up with the new semesters and the change of weather already getting on people’s nerves, wanting nothing more than spring to come quickly.

Three weeks in, and you already have stuff to do, one of them being an argumentative presentation assigned by Professor Yaga in your Contemporary Issues class. You and three other people are tasked to find sources for a topic issue you find interesting and then present a discussion-based presentation on two sides of the topic (two people in favor and two people against).

Unfortunately, the groups were to be randomly assigned. Luckily, two friends you knew in the class, Haibara and Ijichi, were picked to work alongside you! However, the bad part was that another person you knew was assigned to work with you, and he happens to be the guy getting on your last nerves right now, sitting on your couch while clicking through the television channels with the remote. 

Your roommates weren’t home today. The club fair was occurring at the quad, so Mei Mei and Utahime had to go out and represent their clubs for the afternoon. Shoko is having an intense study session with Geto for an exam on the first of February, so they’re at the library now. 

That leaves you alone at your dorm, using this as a perfect opportunity to invite your group over to work on the project. 

“You can freeze your nuts off and become the next Jack Frost for all I care; if you’re not going to do your part of the work, get out!”

Well, minus you yelling at your partner, who clicks his teeth before turning to you. His round sunglasses shone from the light reflected from the living room windows.

Satoru Gojo was your number one nemesis within these campus grounds; this was a known fact to everyone, especially the other group members who nervously examined you two bicker. Being in the same space as him is enough to make you wish you could pull your hair out or put him in the nastiest headlock you could do. Worse, being assigned to the same group as him for your project almost made you want to rip your ears off. 

But you had to suck it up; at least you were the first group to start a presentation. Better now than worry about it later, right? 

“Pssh, fine, I’ll get up and—Oh! Wait, you guys have Digimon on Hulu? Ahhh, sick!” 

Nevertheless, you can’t say that when your supposed partner acts like a child glued to your TV screen instead of doing the work he promised to do. You grit your teeth with a twitching brow, “Why you…”

Across from the common area was the kitchen, where Haibara and Ijichi sat at the dining table. The two sophomores could do nothing but feel the tension between you and Gojo grow with every passing second, suffocating the younger duo. Haibara eyes Ijichi from across the table and whispers, “Wanna make a run for it now?”

The black-haired second-year didn’t reply, only a hurried nod before the two grabbed their coats and stuffed their laptops back into their backpacks. The sound of their zippers alerts your ears, turning to them to question, “Huh? Where are you two going?” 

Haibara takes it upon himself to deliver a half-lie as he zips up his jacket. “On second thought, Ijichi and I are thinking of taking the shuttle to the library to work instead.”

Huh? The library? Were they leaving because of the belligerence between you and Gojo? God, you hoped not. “Wait, you guys don’t have to do that. I already made you guys walk all this way here; it’d be rough to have you leave for somewhere else…”

Ijichi comes with the assist after putting the sling of his messenger bag around his shoulder. “It’s okay, Y/n. We found material from the library we could use as sources, so we’re heading up there to take some notes while they’re there.” 

“Yup!” Haibara exclaims in agreement, and the two walk past you to put on their shoes by the front door. “Maybe you guys can find sources of your own while we’re gone, and then we can converse and share what we found when we come back. Sounds good?” 

“I suppose so…” you couldn’t shake the feeling that they were leaving to avoid being in the same room as you and Gojo. The guilt is hard to endure since you didn’t mean to make the younger boys uncomfortable. “See you guys, then.”

“Cya!” And with that, the door closes on their way out, leaving you and Gojo alone in your apartment. 

Well, this is just great; you’ve driven your group members and friends away and are now stuck with the nuisance of a partner who still keeps his attention on the television. It takes everything in your power not to pop a vein. But with one calm breath, you steady yourself and stand tall. 

You walk in front of the TV, blocking it from Gojo’s view. The white-haired boy throws his hands up in exasperation, but you couldn’t care less. “What’s the big idea?” He questions you as if he has a right to at this moment. 

You cross your arms across your chest with narrow eyes. “Haibara and Ijichi just left.”

“Uhh, yeah, I heard the door,” he maneuvers his body to try and see the children’s show blocked by your figure. “Doesn’t have to do with me—“

“It does have to do with you.” You interrupt him, taking two steps and bending to stare him down. Your face is a foot away from his. “You’re supposed to be here to work with Haibara on the ’no’ part of the argument while me and Ijichi do our part. You’ve only been here for thirty minutes, and the only thing you’ve done successfully is take off your shoes at the door and read your manga books on the couch. 

Gojo chuckles – oh, how you hated his laugh – as he puts his hands behind his head, spreading his long legs from their crossed form. “You heard them, no? They’re going to research on their own and then come back. Besides, you know I’m not one to start stuff right away. I’m a procrastinator, remember?”

“You’re annoying; that’s what you are.” You straighten up with a heavy sigh.  God, I wish Utahime and Shoko were here. They’d help me out with this white garbage…

“Ahhh, lighten up, Y/n. It’s not like the presentation is on Monday; we got until Friday to come up with everything.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that, smartass. And you’re right: I do know you. And I know you tend to do things at the last fucking minute. But not this time!” You watch him try to put his feet up on the coffee table, and you quickly intervene by kicking them off. 

“Tch. Look, you knew what you were getting into being partnered with me. And relax; those two said they’ll be back to discuss the material later. They already left – nothing I can do about it.”

Your hands rest at your hips, tapping your foot with visible frustration. “Oh? And I wonder why they left in the first place, Gojo. Mind telling me how?”

He quirks up a brow with a smug grin — a telling sign that you’d get ticked off with whatever he’s about to say. “I don’t know, Y/n. Why not ask the nagging control freak talking to me right now, huh? Maybe their short height and angry temper are affecting the mood of those around them to be miserable like them.” 

You almost did it — your hands nearly gave into your intrusive thoughts and were about to lunge at the snow-haired guy’s neck to wring around like a rag doll. But you played it off with a clap, rubbing the palms together to distract your temporary violent thoughts.

You sucked your teeth and turned on your heel. “Forget it. I’m gonna go take a nap.”

He scoffs, “Good, maybe your tiny brain needs it to calm down.”

“Choke and die, Gojo!” You say down the hall, already at the door of your shared bedroom. Before slamming the door shut, Gojo’s patronizing laughter can be heard to your dismay. With gritted teeth, you march to your bed to throw yourself on the mattress. 

“Ughhh. That Satoru Gojo,” you curse his name under your breath as if he’d hear you through the walls. “So unserious…”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

To be quite honest with himself, Gojo doesn’t necessarily hate you.

The white-haired boy lies on his side on Utahime’s bed, watching you nap. He did knock on the door – believe him, he did. He even gave you the good old ten-second rule, waiting for your response. But then you didn’t, which gave him the initiative to waltz in and see you in your slumber.

You slept so peacefully; your face at peace, and your faint snores were the only things his ears picked up on. It was as if your little nagging show from earlier was hard to comprehend when seeing your tranquil state in front of him. It used to be rare to see you like this. Keywords: used to be.

For the past two to three weeks, your relationship with Gojo has become more…intimate. Ever since he took your first kiss and drew your virgin curtains, the two of you have gotten a little closer than before — both platonically and physically. Something that Gojo never thought he’d experience with you, his tiny, cute frenemy. 

Gojo has known you since freshman year; you were two in the same enrichment group to prepare you to transition into college life. Personally, he wasn’t much for the program; he found it a waste of time, a mandatory prerequisite that he felt he didn’t need. He’s all about experience, wanting nothing more than to get on with his day, go to classes, hang with friends, and repeat. 

“Hello, my name is Y/n. It’s nice to meet you all!”

And then came you, the person sitting across from him at the round table your group would always meet at. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enamored by you the second he saw you. Gojo rarely finds someone who could easily pull his eyes to them — not saying the girls who’d usually crowd and admire him weren’t pretty. There was something about you that kept him wanting to know more – to engage more – about you. 

One thing he knew from you was that you carried your character with pride. Your achievements, your personality, your kindness, and your mannerisms — all of which were displayed elegantly and were a breath of fresh air to look at. You stood out to him more than all the other kids in the group, his eyes always finding a way to steer from the professor’s advice to your alluring, listening face. 

Another thing Gojo liked about you was that you weren’t afraid to stand your ground, especially when discussing with your peers or him. Sure, you were always respectful and would respect other people’s arguments. But, God, the way you said things so constructed and nuanced, it had the tall other glued to you whenever you spoke.

He’s not going to lie; he’ll admit that he’d try to tick you off and get you to get a little angry with him when it came to arguing. He couldn’t help it. He just liked the thought of you layering out of your poised appearance to the point you’d glare at him whenever you saw him in the halls. And it had him giddy knowing he’s the one that made you angry because you looked cute. 

And that was the other thing he really liked about you. The more you two interacted, argued, hung out with his friends, or attended classes together, the more Gojo’s fascination for you turned into that of a school-boy crush. He wouldn’t admit to anyone of this (minus Geto and Shoko if his life depended on it) because it certainly wasn’t something to be known. He was okay with what you two had right now, being the friend who loves to push your buttons to see you nag at him. 

That was until you two started sleeping together. Because holy fuck, the past weeks you two have been sneaking time to have each other’s bodies close made Gojo’s mind go crazy. So fucking crazy like the feeling of you on him is borderline addicting. Your whiny cries calling out to him when he scrapes your sweet spots, your nails scrape on his chest, your half-lidded eyes when you look at him, or how you whisper his name only for him to hear.

This was the kind of relationship you two brewed, a secret thing only between you two. And Gojo was satisfied keeping it like this because it was what you wanted. No need to flaunt it around; it was no one’s business. Besides, he likes having you to himself, seeing a side of you that only he could imagine and experience.

The sensations of your body under his touch, the various tunes of your voice, and the beauty exhibited in your gaze. It was all addicting. You were addicting.

“Who told you to lie on my roommate’s bed? You know she’ll kill you if she ever saw you.” 

It was so addicting that he didn’t even notice you awake until you spoke to him, the erotic memories of you clouding his brain dissipating at the indication of your voice. He smirks, “Oh, I’ll be fine; not like she can hurt me with her tiny self.”

You’re too groggy to roll your eyes, sighing as you turn to your side to face him from across the room. “How long was I out for?”

“Almost an hour,” he replies, switching to sit criss-cross on Utahime’s bed. “I got bored watching TV and knocked.”

“How long have you been in here?”

“Maybe twenty minutes?”

“Just watching me sleep?”

“Yeah.”

You let out a scoff, shaking your head. “Weirdo.”

He snickers at you for recognizing his silliness. “Whaaat? There’s not much to do aside from looking at you. I got bored of the TV.”

“What about your manga?”

“Got bored of that, too.”

“Anyone on your socials that you’d wanna talk to? Girls? Friends? Your teammates?”

“Mmm, nah, none I’d wanna talk to right now.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you mean ‘right now’? You make it seem like I’m keeping you from interacting with your outside life. If you’re bored, talk with whoever you want. Maybe bother Geto…No, nevermind, he’d probably be annoyed since he’s studying.”

Gojo examines you, silently removing himself from your roommate’s bed and treading towards yours. He takes off his sunglasses and places them on top of your dresser before sitting on his knees on the floor. He rests his hands and chin on the edge of your bed, his sky-blue eyes locked in with yours. God, you were so beautiful to look at. 

“I meant that I don’t want to talk to anybody.” Now that he’s closer to you, his voice dials to a whisper. “Not when I got you here to myself.”

He notices your brows drawing upward at the sentence. “To yourself?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, bringing a forefinger to trace your brow. A sensual touch not to startle you. “Just you and me.”

You give him a look as if you think he’s trying to pull something. “Don’t tell me you were making me mad at you earlier just so Haibara and Ijichi could leave, and I’d be stuck with you.”

His smile broadens with every word, his dimples out to see. “No, although I hate that I didn’t think of that myself.” His hand goes to your cheek for his thumb to stroke gently. “Would it have been a bad thing if I did?”

You don’t reply, only placing your hand on his. Your eyes are still on his blue orbs, and – you don’t know this because Gojo has the perfect view of you – the light from the window made them shine charmingly as it highlighted your face. 

“No…I don’t think so,” you murmur, gaze gradually venturing down to his lips. “I like being around you…Satoru.”

He heard his name leave your lips, an invitation to what he wants to do, his eyes fixated on your lips before closing them and drawing in closer. “Me too…”

The kiss was soft and gentle like he always starts with, waiting for you to give him the okay to kiss you again. And when you meekly lick his bottom lip, he gives in to your request and claims your lips again. 

Your moans were so sweet to his ears — his favorite thing to hear — especially when he becomes a little devilish and sucks on your tongue to make you whimper a little louder, turning him on even more. It serves as the perfect distraction for him to snake a hand into your shirt, his hand already making itself home and cupping your breast in your bra. 

You break the kiss with a gasp, and massages to your mound make your breath shaky. “Mmmah…you sneaky pervert,” you name-call him sweetly. 

“Can’t blame me; I just know that you like to have your tits played with.” Gojo sneers, tweaking your nipple to hear you gasp again. “Hey, remember you said you’d suck me off next time?”

“Huh?” The question threw you off before you could fall deeper into a euphoric haze. 

“Don’t ‘huh’ me, you promised!” He whines to you like a hurt puppy. “After I ate you out for twenty minutes straight last time, can I just have your mouth on my dick once?”

“I never told you to eat me out for twenty minutes!”

“You crying and telling me not to stop said otherwise!” He stands his argument, even if you warn him with a glare. “Just suck it, please. I haven’t felt your mouth in a while.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. You didn’t expect to deal with his childish tendencies, but it is Gojo we’re talking about. You sigh, “…Fine, Satoru.” And then the white-headed boy beamed at the confirmation, immediately standing up and heading to your desk. It was an abrupt change of pace for a second until he brought your desk chair out. 

With glee, Gojo flings his jeans and boxers with ease, his half-hard cock out for you to see. He sits on your chair with spread legs, “I’m ready~.”

You roll your eyes, yet the smile on your face sneaks without you knowing while leaving your bed and crouching between his legs. “You’re such a big baby sometimes…”

Your hand finds its way to the body of his dick, gliding it up and down to feel the veins under your palm and fingertips. Gojo hums to your cold fingers, hitching his breath when you tease him with a blow of air. 

Your free hand comes to his balls, massaging his testicles in a way that has his leg jerk. He tries to fight it, but the squirm on his legs says otherwise. “Hahhh, fuck…quit it…”

“Hmm? What, you don’t like it when I tease you?” You peer up at him with a smug grin before using your tongue to lick on the glans slowly, and he covers his mouth before a gasp comes out after lapping on his frenulum. “But when you do it to me, it’s not a problem, huh?”

“Mmmph, shiit, Y/n—Ohhh…!” Another jolt of the hips after you lick and kiss one of his balls, teasing the skin with a kiss and tiny chews that would have him choke on his breath. “Jesus, fuck! Y/n, baby, you’re driving me crazy….Aishhh!!

“Oh, really?” God, you were such a fucking tease. But he fucking loved that so much. “What should I do?” You ask him before sucking on his balls again, and a hand comes to your shoulder to grip. 

“Mmmm…Blow me off, princess,” shivers crawl up his spine as you place kisses from the base of his cock towards the tip. “Please, I wanna feel you…” 

You giggle at his reply, finally taking in his cockhead to your pretty lips and sighing through your nose as you hollow your cheeks to take in more of him. 

Gojo sighs at your licks and sucks on his girth, his erection becoming accommodated to your oral cavity wonderfully. You unhurriedly prompt yourself to take in more of him until your lips reach his pubes, your throat now full of him, and the warmness of your gummy walls makes him squirm more. 

Bobbing your head at a moderate pace, you suck him off to that of a pleasurable cadence. You still use your hands to stroke him, Gojo melting to your touch even more. He throws his head back when you attack his tip again with the onslaught of licks and laps, the hand on his balls roughly kneading them jerks him to moan aloud. 

Fuck, it feels so fucking good having you suck him off like this. How your tongue moved up and down on him was so dangerous, prompting him to place a hand on your head for support. As if that would help, you don’t show him mercy when you suck him harder and faster. The noises coming from your mouth sounded so erotic and pornographic, the heat on his face brewing out more. 

“—Khhmm, fuck, man, I can’t…Ahhh! Y/n, I’m gonna cum if you keep licking it like that. Stop, st—Ahhaaa!!” 

But like he said before – you’re a tease (if not worse than him). You remove Gojo’s dick from your mouth and throat at once, the groan he exerts fueling the fire in your body. You stand to withdraw your shirt, bra, and panties to the ground, knowing Gojo’s watching every move. “Don’t get mad at me; I know how much you wanna cum inside.” 

You pull out the condom from the pocket of your skirt, placing the rubber on his cock after removing it from the wrapper. He couldn’t help but laugh, “Seems like you’re more of a pervert than me if you had that ready while those two were here earlier.” 

“Shut up,” you playfully kiss him with a sneaky bite to his bottom lip. Then, you mount and align your cunt on his dick, the glans kissing your wet labia. “Hmmm, fuck…”

“Relax, cutie,” he kisses you on the cheek while his hands fondle your breasts. 

You slowly descend your slit onto him, the tip of his cock pushing into the entrance of your vagina. A couple of exhales and inhales keep you steady when inserting him into you, not letting the pain distract you from the task at hand. And the both of you moan in unison when it makes it in, your hips leisurely coming down on him until your ass rests on his thighs. 

You grind on him with the roll of your hips, evoking choked intakes of air from him as a hand goes to your ass with vigor. His face to your chest while the other hand plays with one mound. His lips found a nipple to pop into his mouth to suck on. 

With a slow pace, you rock your hips onto him. Your legs bent for your feet to be on his knees, the chair solid enough to withstand you bouncing on Gojo’s dick with repetition.  

“Hoohhh, ohhhh, mmmm,” your hums are expressed in tunes. The curve of his cock is so fucking good, scraping your insides with precision. You couldn’t help but increase the speed just a little bit. 

Gojo keeps sucking on your nipple; the grazes of his teeth and pushing the bud up to the roof of his mouth only fuels more quivers to travel down your bouncing figure. Both of his hands now under your skirt to feel the flesh of your ass under his hungry grasp. He kneads your asscheeks with every thrust to your chasm, and your shrieks get louder by the second. 

“—Mmmph! Shit, shit, you feel so good, pretty,” he finally lets go of your hardened nipple, burying his face to your chest. “So fucking good for me…fuhuuuucck!

You could feel your cunt contract around him; every graze to your sensitive spots prompted your walls to grip around him. He hisses, looking up to see your expression as you ride him out. Fuck, you looked so good on top of him like this. He’ll add this position to the list of things to do again with you.

You peer down to see that Gojo is staring at you, and you quickly bring a hand to cover his eyes. “—Ahhahhn, d-don’t look at me like that! Yer soo embarrassing…!” 

He only chuckles at your shy demeanor, especially during this. But he humors you, not fighting your makeshift blind for him to see you wholly. He’s seen it all already — felt it all, too. And he could never get enough. 

“Ooooh, Satoruuu—Nnaaahh!” He loves how you say his name, your hand traveling to his hair to grab in tuffs. “Oh, fuck, ‘toruuu, I’m gonna cummm…!”

“—Hnngh! Yeah, baby?” Oh, he knows. The way you’re grinding to and fro on his pelvis tells him so. “Go ahead, princess. Clench on me and ride it out.”

And with that, your hips go to an erratic pace that has the both of you holding for dear life. The squeeze of your inner walls clenching on him almost makes him choke on his spit, the nails of his fingertips forming crescents on your skin. And you scream at it, slamming your ass onto him as you both climb up to orgasm. 

Within seconds, it hits the both of you like a train. This had to be Gojo’s favorite part of the entire thing, experiencing having your folds clamp and flutter around him as you cry for him. It took everything in his power not to come with you because he wants to have you on him a little longer. You just felt too good to let go — too addicted to your body to be done with one round.

When the contractions subside while your slurred howls get quieter, Gojo gives you a few minutes to let your body be free from the aftershocks. He knows your body is extra sensitive now, rubbing circles on your back and placing chaste kisses on your clavicle. You hum under his lips, letting the wave of your crescendo exude out from you quietly. 

However, since you wanted to be such a tease, why not be a tease back? At least, that’s what Gojo thought before he threw your cunt another snap of the hips, his cock jabbing into your delicate walls that haven’t recovered yet. A sharp cry comes from your puffy lips, the hand covering Gojo’s eyes finally freeing him to see you. 

He grins with hooded azure eyes, “Sorry, cutie, but I didn’t get to finish. Wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t get to have fun of my own, right?” 

You chew on your lip with trenched brows before bringing your face to his. “Don’t you get carried away like last time, Satoru.”

“No promises, princess~” he sings to your ear before humming into your lips. 

As mentioned before, Gojo doesn’t hate you — he just hates that he can’t fully express liking you. 

But having you on top of him like this, in his embrace, is a nice change of pace he’ll happily get used to.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Okay, everyone, class dismissed! Thank you for your time, and see you all on Friday.”

Professor Naga closes up the last class for today, and the students all get up from the seats of their elevated rows to pack up and leave. The clock is ten minutes before seven o’clock, the winter darkness already claiming the sky with a sheet of night. Students are either famished and heading to the dining hall for food, going straight to their dorms or homes, or staying behind for last-minute conversations.

Gojo was one of the latter, deciding to stay behind to chat with the group for a bit. After packing his backpack and putting on his coat, he slings from the table to jump to the row below him, where you were talking with Haibara and Ijichi. 

You watch his stunt, ready to lecture, “Jesus, Gojo, what’s all that for? You could’ve just walked around.”

“Ehhhh, why would I do that? That’s so lame.” He comes and bends close to you enough to slang his arm around your shoulders. 

But you click your teeth and try to maneuver away from his tall figure. “You’re lame,” you mutter under your breath.

However, Gojo’s ears perked with furrowed brows. “What did you say?”

“You heard me, you lame white furby!” You repeat yourself with a huff and the snow-haired student gawks at your brazenness. 

The two of you argue again; students passing by silently exit the class, others stand and watch, and Professor Yaga can only sigh at yet another altercation between you two. 

However, it quickly dissipates when Haibara laughs from his seat. “You two, there’s never a dull moment.”

You and Gojo blink at the dark brunette before removing Gojo’s hand from your shoulders. “Hmph, it’s not like it’s my fault; he’s the one who starts it.”

“Oh, what could I possibly do to make Y/n so upset with me this time?” He pushes up his sunglasses, snickering at the scowl you send him. 

Ichiji, being the passive second-year he is, meekly changes the topic from the row below you three. “On some brighter news, at least we did well on the presentation.” 

“That’s right!” Haibara happily agrees with the statement, leaning against the chair with his hands behind his head. “Professor Yaga seemed really pleased with our arguments; I don’t think he intervened even once. Plus, he said many good things about how we handled the topic. Nice one, team!” 

The raven-haired one hums at the other’s exclamation. “I think most of it goes to how Y/n and Gojo bounced off each other’s arguments. How you two pulled up examples from the articles yet remained dignified with your viewpoints was cool to witness. I even saw some students be engaged with the conversation, many amazed with how Y/n refuted Gojo’s arguments elegantly and respectfully.”

But most of all, what the two sophomores wanted to mention was that there was no yelling. To them, the professor, and all the students of this class, you and Gojo presented your presentation without a single tone of malice, no pointless teasing, no name-calling, nothing! It was a civil conversation between two opposing sides. To everyone’s surprise — and thankful stars — today was a success.

You chuckle nervously at the praise. “Oh, come on, you two, don’t let me and Gojo take all the credit. You guys did your part. Especially you, Ichiji; you were an exceptional help for my side and finding sources I could build off from.”

Gojo, on the other hand, rolls his eyes. “Psssh, don’t butter them up like that; without us, they would’ve failed this presentation big time. No offense.” He was forced to say that when you called him by his last name and hit him with your elbow.

None taken, the two younger friends say to themselves unbeknownst to each other. 

The tall one continues, “Besides, you were the one who did most of the work. I slacked off until the last minute when you whipped me into shape.” Gojo brings his hand on top of your head for a pat. The action surprised you enough to flinch a bit. “Nice work like always, Y/n.”

Were the stars aligned differently, or did Gojo just compliment you? It certainly took you aback, especially the two others who silently kept their observation to themselves. 

You could only look at his complacent look for a few seconds before you realized the warmth of your cheeks became stronger. Averting your eyes, you remove his hand from your head. “Thanks, Gojo…” you express gratitude. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

A cheeky smile, his dimples prominent to blind you. “Awww, would you two look at that? They’re complimenting me, too~” Another bump to the chest has him cackling like a child, and you shake your head with rolled eyes.

The two younger students observe the scene before Haibara forcibly stretches and yawns to catch the two’s attention. “Man, I’m so hungry; I skipped lunch to prepare for this presentation. Me and Ijichi are gonna meet up with Nanami at the dining hall. You guys wanna come?”

You instantly beam at the proposal; who are you to refuse a dinner with your friends? “Sure! I’d love to…Oh! Wait, let me use the restroom and fill my water bottle.”

You rummage through your backpack for your water bottle before exiting the classroom. The boys watch you descend from row after row, and Gojo says, “Don’t take too long; I’ll convince them to leave without you.”

“Hmph, go ahead and try! They invited me; I don’t know who told you to invite yourself.” You stick your tongue out at him before opening and closing the door behind you. 

Gojo watches you with a smile still plastered on his face for a few seconds before Ijichi makes a tiny cough to catch his attention, the sunglasses-wearing junior turning to look back down to the other two. He notes the albeit cheesy-smiling faces they harbor, and he lifts a brow. “The hell are you two smiling for?”

The raven-haired sophomore squeaks at the sudden firm tone, “N–Nothing!”

“Pfft, oh come on, Kiyo; let’s not act like we didn’t see what we just saw.”

Gojo catches the nuance of Haibara’s comment. “Saw what?”

“You’re over here talking about our faces, but you’re the one who’s smiling at Y/n as they leave the door?” The brunette sophomore sends a wink to his junior, whose face doesn’t change at the comment.

“And your point is?”

“Well, it seems — to me, at least —  there might be something going on with you and Y/n?” 

Gojo was prepared for that, opening his mouth to interject quickly. However, the dark-haired other beat him to the punch. “Now that you mention it, Gojo and Y/n have been kind of…stable? There's still the usual arguments, but those haven't happened as much since last week…”

��Right!?” Haibara points at Ijichi with exclamation, making the other second-year flinch. “For some reason, things seem to be a little quieter with the two of them now, not to mention them hanging out way more often. Everyone’s been talking about it; even Geto and Shoko asked if Gojo had done anything that made Y/n passive?”

“I asked Nanami about it on Monday; he thinks maybe Y/n finally knocked some sense into Gojo’s childish brain to have him be so civil to engage without yelling their head off.”

“Pffthaha, I wouldn’t go that far. Y/n did just kick him in the shin yesterday for scaring them from behind.”

“Ahh, yes, well, that was deserved.”

“You two realize I’m still standing right the fuck here, right?” No, they hadn’t because the two discerned the twitch of Gojo’s brow after conversing about the tall, white-haired boy. 

“But it’s true!”

Another voice enters the set, making Gojo raise his head, and the other two turn to their left. It was some girl and her friend. Gojo knew of her; she sat next to him during class. Again, he knew of her, meaning she had no significance to his knowledge.

And yet, she speaks to the three boys. “You and Y/n have gotten a lot more close these past weeks compared to previous semesters—“

“Real close, too!” Their friend adds on from behind. “It’s as if you two are like a couple.”

“So…Are you two….a thing?”

Gojo could tell from a mile away what this was. Obviously, the first girl has a thing for him — he can see the anxiousness from the twiddle of her thumbs and avoidant eye contact. Although he wasn’t interested, he couldn’t even answer the question the way he wanted. What the hell could he say: that you two are in a secret relationship? He knows you’d have his grave ready before he could finish that confession.

And he can’t say the two of you are in any relationship either; it’s not what you would’ve told them. To everyone else, you and Gojo are friends who would preferably be caught dead rather than lying in bed together. So, might as well keep that facade up.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” he starts with the push of his sunglasses. “Y/n is a pretty good friend, and I’d like to keep it at that.”

Haibara and Ijichi turn from Gojo to look at each other and shrug. Before turning back, something caught their eye that caused the two sophomores’ skin to turn white.

Ijichi tries to prevent Gojo from speaking further. “G-Gojo—“

However, the tall one doesn’t listen. “I mean, sure, they got a nice personality and are independent…Kinda pretty, too, not gonna lie. But they’re not really my type. I mean, have you seen them? Just a little person who likes to find trivial stuff to yell at me over. Angry at the world around them, I’d say.“

“Go. Jo.” Haibara says the junior’s name through gritted teeth, bringing his hand up by his neck and drawing an imaginary horizontal line back and forth — a gesture for Gojo to not say anymore. But unfortunately, the sign wasn’t seen, and the words kept pouring out.  

“And to be honest, can you imagine? Me and Y/n, a couple? Jesus Christ, that would be fucking exhausting to deal with, especially with someone so boring and too uncute like them. I’ve seen prettier, been with better. I feel sorry for the poor bastard who does end up with them—“

“SATORU GOJO!”

Now — that sudden burst of yell from a loud, masculine voice — that was what got Gojo’s attention. It’s what got the attention of everyone else in the room. The snow-haired student jerks to look at the professor standing at the front, the older man with a deep frown. “What?

The professor doesn’t answer him. Instead, he points to the left of him with his chin with a huff. With common sense, Gojo turns behind him to see where the older man points. And at that moment, he felt his very being drop to the soles of his feet. Haibara and Ijichi took a slow breath in unison at the immediate tension.

Behind him stood you, a lone figure holding their water bottle within three arm’s length away from the group. But that was sufficient enough for you to have heard everything said. 

Breathing suddenly felt impossible for Gojo; his entire body was stiff under your gaze. His shades could hide his eyes, but he wasn’t sure it could shield the instant shame that slapped him across the face from you. 

And that was another thing: the look you harbored was indecipherable — the true definition of disengagement. There were no widened eyes, quivering lips, or shaky hands. You stood plainly and looked as though you were detached from the entire situation. And that was what scared him the most.

This was strike one.

He dared not move when you began walking up, and your eyes then shifted to ignore his presence. “Hey, Yu,” the brunette straightened his posture at the use of the first name. “I think I’ll have to decline on that dinner offer. I’m a little tired and have a paper I need to work on…Maybe next time?”

“Uhh, yeah, sure, no problem.” He answers with a sweat.

Wait a second. Gojo tries to call for you, “Y/n—“

“Ijichi,” but you immediately shut him down and directed your attention to the other sophomore friend as you put on your coat and stuffed your water bottle back into your bag. “Be sure to submit the presentation template and sources to the course site before the end of the day, please.”

“U–Uhh, already done, Y/n.” He squeaks while reassuring.

Wait, please. The tall one tries again, “Wait, Y/n—“

“Good.” You sling your backpack on, refusing to look at the person trying to talk to you. “Well, I’ll be seeing you, then.” And with that, you turn on your heel and head down the row to leave.

No, wait, stop— “Y/n, wait!” This was strike two. 

Gojo doesn’t hesitate to call out to you. At that moment, he follows you to the class steps where you were a row down left from the door. He grabs your hand without thinking, the size of your palm captured by his slender fingers. He knew it was a risky move, but he had to — he had to get you to talk with him right now, if not ever. Because the latter is something he isn’t ready for, something he didn’t think would be a possibility.

And yet, he will learn this lesson of being prepared for the impossible when you rapidly turn to him. Strike three.

SLAP!

Have you ever seen someone get smacked in the face so hard that their sunglasses come off? The remaining two girls who witnessed it know for sure now. Haibara and Ijichi won’t admit to it as they immediately turn to the other side of the room when they saw your hand move. But please believe they winced at the sound of the impact. The same goes for Professor Yaga, who was too stunned to speak, yet it was a valid outcome. 

Gojo didn’t move a single limb, allowing the stinging feeling on his cheek to course through his facial muscles. His eyes were glued to the carpeted ground; he knew that’s where they were supposed to be. And you snatched your hand away from his grasp, leaving his fingers to suffer in forced loneliness.

“You…you think it’s all fun and games to say stuff like that when I turn my back for a few minutes, huh?” He can see your hand palpitate from his peripheral; the anger depicted alone was enough to interpret. And the tremble in your voice? It felt like an arrow to his being. “…Look at me.”

He’d be a fool to have you repeat yourself; he has lost that right to toy with you now. With a slow inhale, Gojo rotates his head at you, azure eyes tracking up your figure to your face. And when it lands at that destination, his heart is shot down.

Tears stream down vexed, watery eyes. Your brows furrowed, and your bottom lip chewed in a terrible attempt to stop it from quivering. The rise and fall of your shoulders as you moderate your breathing, trying so hard not to let your temper dwell into a deeper phase of ugly. It was bad enough you’re crying in public, in front of your peers, your teacher — and it was because of him. 

“From this day forward,” you fight your sniffles to say your statement as clearly as possible. “Don’t you ever talk to me, Satoru Gojo. Enjoy your life without something as boring as me.”

And with that, you dismiss yourself from him and the class altogether, the room silent even after the slam of the door closed. No one says anything, too shocked from the event to utter a letter. 

The silence aids the ringing in Gojo’s ears, his breathing still having trouble maintaining a balanced front. The cheek you slapped burned with pain; he’s sure the skin is as red as a cherry. 

Oh, fuck.

He brings a hand to his face, his body fighting the trembling. The ringing in his ears worsens, along with the pounding in his head that beats like a drum. His eyes stuck to the ground below him, choosing to focus on something inanimate and not living. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck—

All he could think of in this time and place was you. Memories flashing right before him, of you and only you. He can hear the way you say his name, both in vexation and in sweet tunes. Your smiles, your frowns, your huffs, your whispers. When your eyebrows scrunch whenever you express worry for him, how you’re never afraid to stand up against him when making a point, the smile that’s been blinding him for many days and nights — the smile he wouldn’t mind seeing for eternity.

All those memories were one stab to his heart after another. And every time a recollection ended, a flash of your crying face would return to haunt him. Tears that weren’t meant to be there but were, and warm feelings you expressed with him were gone the moment he saw your eyes void of feelings for him. At least, that’s what he saw.

He hurt you. That was the only revelation that haunted him where he stood, making his voice falter from confidence. It was a revelation he never meant to bring about. And now that it exists and he sees the damage, nothing would be better for him now than the ground beneath him swallowing him whole.

“What…the fuck…”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 ❤︎ reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ dividers by @/cafekitsune & @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

A Man with a Mission in Two or Three Editions

Bob Floyd x Reader

1.9k words

Warnings: None. Fluff, Bob being a shy cutie, Rooster being a cocky wingman, a tiny bit of language

A/N: Trying something a little different after rewatching Top Gun: Maverick! I hope y'all like it ❤️

Bob was a bookworm. To probably no one’s surprise, he’d been a voracious reader from the time he was still learning his ABC’s on Sesame Street. He was always the kid reading under the covers with a flashlight past his bedtime, annoying his teachers by finishing novels weeks ahead of the class schedule, crashing into light posts and trees because he just couldn’t take his nose out of his book. Hell, sometimes Phoenix had to grab a book out of his hand and stuff it in her purse in the middle of the Hard Deck bar because he’d missed his turn at pool. The man simply loved to read.

But somehow, that wasn’t the reason he spent so much time at the bookshop he was standing in on this drizzly Saturday morning. No, that would be the pretty pair of eyes that followed him from the cash register, the ones that always seemed to sparkle a bit brighter when the little ringing bell announced his arrival.

Normally, Bob liked to come in by himself, so he could quietly gaze at you while you shelved books or helped other customers, customers who weren’t rendered speechless by simply standing too close to you. It was a smidge ridiculous, he admitted to himself. He was in the Navy, a TOPGUN graduate, someone who, despite his bashful appearance, didn’t shy away from danger. But oh, he definitely shied away from the cute bookstore owner who smiled despite his fumbled one-word answers to the questions you asked about the books he bought. Those embarrassingly one-sided conversations were the highlight of his day. His week, really. Just the two of you in the quiet of your cozy little shop.

But no, not today. Today, Bradshaw just had to tag along. “Nothin' better to do,” his buddy had mumbled with a nonchalant shrug when Bob asked if he was sure he wanted to come to the bookstore.

Now, Rooster snuck up behind Bob, who was craning his neck around a bookshelf to get a glimpse of you, still managing to look cute despite the bored look on your face as you counted change in the register.

“Guess now we know why you’re in here all the damn time,” he teased, loud enough to make Bob’s cheeks burn red as he prayed you didn’t hear. “Reading three books a week, my ass.”

Bob let out a little huff as he turned towards Rooster, gritting his teeth. “Lower your voice,” he hissed.

“Why?” Rooster continued, his smirk growing when he saw how he was getting under his friend’s increasingly blushing skin. His eyes flickered to you before he called out, “Hey, honey? This ain’t a library, is it? Do I have to watch my volume?”

Your playful eyes flickered to Bob before settling on Rooster’s smug face. “Normally I’d say no need,” you started slowly. “But if you’re bugging my favorite customer there, I might just need to adopt a noise level policy.”

Favorite customer. The two little words danced in Bob’s ears, which were currently a deep shade of red. Despite the fact that he was here every Saturday morning like clockwork- and sometimes more than that if he could manage- and the fact that you always tried to engage him in conversation at the register, Bob hadn’t quite been sure you knew he existed until this moment. He’d been so sure he was just another customer, someone who blended in with every other person who walked through your door. Surely, you had plenty of customers who flirted with you; how was he, with his monosyllabic responses, supposed to stand out?

Still, there you were, smiling at him as Rooster clapped a hand on his shoulder and gave him a little shove. Bob stumbled forward, clutching the book he’d been carrying around, and approached your little counter.

He adjusted his glasses as he laid the book down in front of you. “Just this one today,” he murmured, barely loud enough for you to hear.

But you were used to his quietness. You liked it. “That’s one of my favorites,” you mused as you took your time finding the bar code that you could’ve found in your sleep. “You’ll have to tell me what you think.”

He nodded absently, his hands fidgeting on the countertop while he watched you scan the book. “Sure.” With a glance over his shoulder, he met Rooster’s eyes; his friend held his hands up, urging Bob to say something, anything, else. “Am I really your favorite customer?” he blurted out.

The small chuckle you breathed out made his heart skip a beat. “Well, one of my favorites,” you corrected, teasing dripping from your voice. “There’s also this dog that comes in with his elderly owner all the time, and this little toddler whose mom had brought her in since she was just a few months old.” Something sparkled in your eyes as you leaned forward on the counter and slid the book towards him. “But you’re definitely in the top three.”

“What’s he have to do to take first place?” Bob didn’t notice Rooster slink over to the register, but now one of those heavy arms slung over his shoulders. “Help a guy out,” he added with a wink.

Was Rooster flirting with you for him? Bob wondered with a wince. This was certainly a new low.

If you thought Rooster’s intervention was lame, you didn’t show it. In fact, your gaze remained firmly on Bob, although your words were in response to Rooster’s question. “How can he take first place,” you repeated with a small hum. “Maybe by asking for my number?” The smile you flashed Bob would have been enough to bring a man back from the brink of death. “Himself, though. No help from the peanut gallery.”

The air caught in Bob’s throat mid-breath. Sure, sometimes women flirted with him- but really, they were flirting with the uniform, not Bob. You, on the other hand, were smiling at the man in glasses who bumbled around your shop a couple times a week and trembled whenever you not-so-accidentally brushed your fingers against his while handing him his purchases. Just Bob.

He shrugged off Rooster’s arm and stood up straight as he could, the way he did whenever an admiral or captain walked by. Deep breath, he reminded himself as he clenched and unclenched his fists. She wants you to ask.

“Do you think I could get your number?” he asked, his voice sounding unfamiliar to his own ears.

That lovely smile widened as you leaned your cheek on your hand. “Depends what you plan to do with it,” you said. Challenged, really. After months of trying to get this guy to respond to your flirting, you were making him work for this. Just a little.

His throat went dry. Oh damn. “I…” He blinked, hoping he didn’t suddenly look as small as he felt. “I could use to… call you?” Your raised eyebrows urged him on. He kind of liked it, the way you emboldened him. He wanted more of it. “I would call you,” he repeated, a little more sure now. “And… I’d ask you out. For coffee.” Oh heck, it was so cute the way you wrinkled your nose. “Dinner,” he tried again; you rewarded him with the return of that dazzling smile. “And-and we’d talk all about the books we’ve read and the books you think I should read, and I’d ask you about your store and I’d even talk about my job, if you wanted me to. And I’d take you home after and walk you to your door and-” He swallowed hard, the flush on your cheeks giving him the courage to go full-speed ahead, fast as the fighter jet he’d just been flying the day before. “And before you go inside, I’d ask to see you again and if I could kiss you goodnight.”

After what felt like an eternity of you staring at Bob, studying him, you finally let out an amused little hum. “That’s the most I’ve ever heard you say,” you mused, drumming your fingernails on the book that still sat between the two of you. “Promise you’ll talk that much at dinner?”

Relief flooded his chest as he nodded. “Yes ma’am.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll talk as much as you want me to.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Still holding his gaze, you reached over for a flyer advertising a book and wine night you were hosting the following week- an event Bob had already decided he’d be going to, of course- and used a glittery blue pen to scribble down your name and number. “I’m free tonight, by the way.”

Dazed was the only word to describe Bob as he took the flyer from you. “Tonight,” he echoed, a smile finally stretching across his face. “I’ll, uh, see you tonight.” He looked down at the flyer, admiring your looping letters, the way the glittery ink caught the light, your name- oh. “I’m Robert, by the way,” he blurted out. “Or Bob. Everyone calls me Bob. It’s my callsign.”

It looked like now that you had him talking, he didn’t know how to stop. And it was pretty damn cute, if you were being totally honest. “Nice to finally meet you, Bob.”

“Nice to meet you too.” His shoulders finally relaxed as he just stared at you, the ghost of a smile on his face. “Really nice.”

He probably would have stayed there all day, just taking in the sight of your pretty smile and basking in the pride of finally successfully speaking more than two words to you. But Bradshaw clapped a hand on his shoulder, breaking his gaze from yours.

“Why don’t we let this lady get back to work,” he suggested with a shit-eating grin, “and I help you figure out where you’re taking her for dinner tonight?”

Bob nodded, quickly turning his eyes back to you; oh, thank God, you were still smiling at him. “I’ll see you later,” he promised, raising his hand in a half wave as Rooster finally started dragging him away. “And- and I’ll call you.”

 “You better,” you teased, casually tossing his forgotten book to him; he barely caught it. “Because I’m looking forward to answering your question.”

He paused in the doorway, brows furrowed. “My question?”

You nodded, eyes flittering up and down his figure. “Whether or not you can kiss me.”

“Oh.” He looked down, all of his bashfulness returning with a vengeance. When he looked back at you, you were still grinning. “I hope you say yes,” he admitted, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“Guess you’ll find out tonight.” You offered him a little wave as Rooster yanked him out the door. “Bye, Bob.”

“Goodbye-” But the door had already closed behind him. Bob allowed Rooster to drag him down the block a ways before finally regaining control of his steps. When he looked at his friend, he found the smuggest grin waiting for him.

Rooster chuckled and ruffled Bob’s hair. “You don’t gotta thank me,” he razzed. “Just promise me I’ll be the best man at your wedding.”

Bob grinned and shoved his friend off him. “I think Phoenix’ll fight you on that one. She’s already called dibs.” He glanced down at the flyer and book in his hands, reminders that your conversation really just happened. That you actually wanted to go out with him- and might even let him kiss you.

He’d barely settled into the passenger seat of the car when he pulled out his phone and began typing, ignoring Rooster’s knowing smirk. Sure, maybe it was a little sooner than you expected. But Bob couldn’t help himself; while he didn’t usually read love stories, he knew that he wanted this one to begin as soon as possible.

[flickering-chandelier]

Full Throttle

✨ Sequel to Was Any Of It True? ✨

Pairing: Modern badboy!Azriel x goodgirl!Reader

Summary: honestly no plot, just smut and fluff. Little snapshots of life with these two cuties.

Based on this request! 🩷 And also this lol 🫶🏻

Warnings: smut, swearing, brief mention of family abuse (very vague about Az's past)

Word Count: 5.1k

Azriel smiled as he read your text.

The essay is complete! I'm all yours. 

He'd never get tired of that thought, that you were his, that he was yours. He texted back immediately:

That might be a new record, bookworm. I'll be there in 10.

“Aaaaand, he's ditching us for the girl. Again,” Cassian groaned before Azriel had even said anything.

Rhysand chuckled. “Why are you surprised?”

Azriel didn't bother to hide his grin. “What can I say, boys? She's much prettier than you.”

His friends laughed and made fun of him for a few more minutes, and by the time he was making his way to his motorcycle, you had texted back.

Maybe I just couldn't wait to see you. 

Azriel's heart swelled. He couldn't believe how lucky he was.

When he pulled up to the library, he slid off his bike and leaned against it, waiting for you to come outside.

Even from a distance, he could see that your eyes were bright as you made your way toward him, a bounce in your step that proved you were proud of the work you had accomplished today. Azriel felt pride rush through him.

He met you halfway, taking your heavy backpack from your outstretched hand, slinging it over his shoulder as you twined your fingers with his. “Hey, beautiful.” 

You grinned, tilting your chin up as you walked back to his motorcycle, silently asking for a kiss. Azriel smirked, leaning down to give you one.

Azriel handed you your helmet when you got to his bike, as you said, your smile bright, “I got so much done today, Az!”

“Proud of you, sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling your body against his to kiss you again. “You are a beautiful, beautiful genius,” he said in between kisses, holding your face in his hands.

You were getting breathless, he could tell. You sighed happily, leaning into him even more. 

“Take me home,” you said into his mouth, your voice raspy.

He groaned, taking the helmet from your hands and sliding it over your head.

You laughed as he hopped onto the bike quickly, impatiently waiting for you to settle in behind him.

He was going to get you home as soon as humanly possible. 

On the short drive home, your hands may have wandered a bit.

Smiling to yourself, you laid your palms flat on his stomach, moving lower, lower…

Your hands settled on his growing bulge and he reached back, gripping your thigh hard. It was an effort not to squirm. There was no quicker way to get him going.

Azriel growled when you finally made your way into your apartment, pinning you against the door immediately, his hard body pressing into yours, kissing you with such ferocity that it made your head spin.

“You used to be such a good girl,” he teased, nipping at your neck. “Now you're getting me all riled up in public.”

A moan escaped you as he gripped your ass with one hand, while the other tangled in your hair, pulling on it to expose more of your neck to him. He continued his trail of little bites and kisses as you groaned, “It was hardly public. Nobody was around.” 

He laughed into your skin, and you went in for the kill, knowing it would set him off. “And I'm still your good girl,” you panted.

He halted his movements, his eyes darkening with need as he pulled back to look at you with a devious smile. “Prove it.”

You took a moment to give him your sweetest, most innocent smile before you dropped to your knees and unbuckled his belt, pulling his pants and his boxers down his thighs. Your mouth was around him in a matter of moments.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, his hands moving to gently hold the back of your head.

You hummed somewhat smugly as you took as much of him as you could down your throat, stroking the rest of his length with your hand. 

“Fuck,” he leaned his forearms against the door, pushing himself deeper down your throat, starting to thrust in and out, the back of your head now resting on the door. 

“Look at me, baby,” he grunted, and when your eyes rose to meet his, he groaned loudly, thrusting in and out a few more times before pulling out of your mouth and helping you stand up, kissing you fiercely when you were upright. 

You pushed his pants down the rest of the way and pulled his shirt over his head, desperate to feel his skin.

He smirked as he grasped your ass with both hands, lifting you in his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to your bedroom.

As soon as he set you on your feet, you were reaching for your own clothes, but he grabbed your wrists, halting you. You looked up at him curiously and were nearly knocked off your feet at the lust in his gaze. 

Azriel moved your hands to your sides, then slowly curled his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, his eyes laser focused on your body as he revealed your skin inch by inch.

“Az,” you whined. This was taking too long, you needed him now--

“Shhh,” he said as he finally lifted your shirt over your head, leaning down to kiss down your neck, over your breasts, down your stomach, as he unhooked your bra with one hand and let it slide off your form. 

He trailed his lips back up, taking your nipple in his mouth and sucking hard as he slid your pants down your legs agonizingly slowly. 

When you were left in nothing but your underwear, you felt dizzy with need. “Az, please.”

Az laughed darkly before he picked you up and tossed you onto the bed. You landed on your back and before you could even react, he was over you, sliding your panties down your legs.

“Tell me what you want,” he said gruffly into your neck. 

“I want all of you,” you gasped, wrapping your arms around him, resting your hands on his back. “Now.”

He moaned, sliding fully into you in one swift movement. You gasped, clutching to him.

Azriel moved slowly at first, giving you time to adjust to him. He gazed into your eyes, twining his fingers with yours, raising your hand above your head. 

You raked your fingers through his hair, pulling his head down to meet his lips with yours. He kissed you gently, a perfect juxtaposition to him pounding into you faster now.

You moaned into his mouth and you felt him smile, his hips slapping against you harder. “Such a good girl for me,” he murmured, and you gasped, raking your nails down his back.

“I told you so,” you said breathlessly.

He laughed, kissing down your chest, rolling a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

You groaned, arching your back off the mattress.

“Mmm, I know what that means,” he growled. “You ready to come for me, bookworm?”

All you could do was moan, spurring him on to move even faster against you. 

He held your chin gently, looking into your eyes as you came undone, and he followed right after, groaning loudly.

When he had finished, he slumped on top of you, breathing hard. 

After you both caught your breath, he slid out of you with a grunt, going to your bathroom and coming back with a wet towel, cleaning you up gently before crawling back into bed with you.

Azriel kissed you softly, gently moving your hair off your face, before pulling you to his chest. “I love you,” he murmured, kissing your forehead.

“I love you, too,” you said sleepily, listening to his heartbeat against your ear as you fell asleep.

---

Azriel groaned, tightening his arms around you as your alarm went off.

You pulled out of his reach to turn it off, but as soon as you did, his arms were around you, pulling you back against his chest. 

“It's too early,” he murmured, kissing your neck. “Stay with me.”

When you sighed sleepily, he knew you were contemplating it. 

“I need to go over my notes before class,” you grumbled.

Azriel shifted, turning you to face him, “you're the most brilliant person in the world,” he said, kissing you softly. “You can go one day without looking at your notes before class.” 

You giggled and his heart soared. “I'm not that brilliant.”

“You are,” he said, kissing you again, his hand wandering down to your hip.

“Brilliant people check their notes before class,” you smiled.

“Brilliant people stay in bed with their boyfriends for as long as possible,” he smirked. “I read a study about it yesterday.”

You rolled your eyes, and he couldn't resist kissing you again. “You've never read a study in your life,” you murmured against his lips.

He pulled you closer to him, so your bodies were pressed against each other. He held your face in his hands. “Stay with me,” he whispered, his lips almost touching yours. “Just this once.”

When you bit your lip, he knew he had convinced you. “Okay,” you said quietly. 

He grinned, crushing you into his chest, and you laughed. “I love you too, but I can't breathe.”

“Oh shit,” he said, easing his hold on you.

You spent the rest of the morning in his arms. You traced your finger over the tattoo on his shoulder, trailing up his neck and down his bicep. “What do they mean?” You asked quietly.

He smiled, watching your finger trail over his body. “Luck. Cassian and Rhys have similar ones. We all got them together.”

Your eyes met his then. “Luck for what?” You asked, and he could tell you wondering if it was about his elusive family. 

“A better life,” he said quietly, leaning in to brush a soft kiss to your lips. “I guess they worked.”

You flushed, hiding your face in his chest. He laughed, grateful he could still get you flustered like that. 

“My family,” he said quietly, and you went perfectly still, your face still hidden to him. He gently stroked your hair. He cleared his throat, steeling himself to tell you what he had never told anyone else. “My family was… abusive. To me. My stepmom and step brothers hated me. They didn't see me as one of them, so… they were awful. Really, really awful,” he said, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “Rhys and Cassian's upbringings weren't much better. So as soon as we turned 18, we got these tattoos and we left without looking back.”

He tilted your chin up to look at him and his heart melted when he saw the tears on your cheeks. “I'm sorry,” you whispered. “I had no idea.”

He smiled lightly, kissing the tears off your cheeks one at a time. “Nobody does,” he whispered. “Nobody, but my new family,” tears walked up in his own eyes now as he gazed at you. “My brothers… and you.”

You choked on a sob and he brought his rough hands to your cheeks, wiping the fresh tears away with his fingers as he kissed you softly. 

It was torturous to be apart from you from that moment on. 

---

You felt closer to Azriel than ever, since he had told you about his past, and had called you his family. It made butterflies flutter through your stomach every time you thought about it. 

Apparently it also showed on your face because Az slung his arm around over your shoulders and kissed your cheek, whispering in your ear, “What are you all smiley about?”

“You,” you smiled.

Cassian and Rhysand groaned. “You two are disgusting.”

You laughed, leaning your head on Az’s shoulder, who looked thrilled. You had been spending more time with his friends, wanting to get to know them better. It was also partly because you felt guilty that Azriel kept ditching them to spend time with you.

The doorbell rang then, and Azriel went down to get the food you all had ordered.

After he left, Rhysand turned to you, “I know we give him a lot of shit, but we are really glad that he has you.”

Cassian smiled at you genuinely for probably the first time. “You've changed him. He's never been this happy in his life.”

You flushed, and before you could reply, Azriel was back. He noticed the look on your face and raised an eyebrow, “What just happened?”

“Time to eat!” Cassian cut in, taking the bags from Az’s hands and divvying up the food.

Azriel looked to you, and you smiled, patting his shoulder. “I'll tell you later,” you whispered.

Later, the boys were playing a video game that you had tried to play with them, but you died so much that you slowed everyone down, so you opted to read a book instead.

Azriel cuddled you in every spare moment that the game allowed, sometimes accidentally letting Cassian or Rhys die while his hand was on your thigh, or when he was pressing a quick kiss to your temple.

The boys were not hesitant to show their frustration, but Azriel would just shrug, kissing you again.

You felt so unbelievably in love. 

It was well into the night when you two ended up back at Azriel's apartment. 

You were exhausted. He tossed you one of his t-shirts and you stripped down to your underwear before slipping it on over your head. He stripped down to his boxers, his eyes trailing your body with a faint smile on his face the whole time.

You both got settled in his bed, facing each other. You felt so tired, but couldn't close your eyes, couldn't peel them from Azriel’s. His hazel eyes were twinkling even in the darkness.

“What did they say while I was gone?” Az asked quietly, stroking your cheek.

You smiled. “They said they're glad that we're together. And that they've never seen you so happy.”

“Mmm,” he murmured, leaning closer to you, “I never have been this happy.”

A blissful sigh escaped from you as he gently touched his lips to yours, kissing you slowly. Lovingly.

His hand found its way to your hip, easing your body closer to his, like he had all the time in the world.

For a while, he kissed you and kissed you, tongue entwining with yours gently. 

Eventually his hands trailed down to the hem of your shirt. Well, his shirt.

His eyes were trained on yours as he gently pulled it over your head and tossed it aside.

“You're so beautiful,” he murmured into your skin, trailing kisses down your neck, your breasts, your stomach. 

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, and he looked up at your face, smiling, like he had been waiting for it.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, brushing a lock of overgrown hair out of his face. “So are you,” you said, your eyes trailing across his broad shoulders, his massive biceps, his toned stomach. 

He chuckled, moving up your body to kiss your lips again. “Thank you, bookworm.”

Azriel took his time kissing you again, his hand trailing down to your panties, sliding them off slowly. 

You gasped as he pressed a thumb to your clit, then slipped a finger inside you.

“Az,” you moaned quietly as he started pumping his finger in and out of you. 

He smiled softly, watching your expression. “Good?”

All you could do was nod, biting your lip. His smile grew; his fingers moved faster. You gripped the bedsheets, watching him.

You whimpered and he halted his movements. "You ready for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you breathed, reaching for him.

He smiled dreamily, sliding off his boxers and hovering over you, settling his elbows on either side of your head. 

His eyes bore into yours as he slid into you. He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and resting his forehead against yours.

Your hands found their way into his hair as he moved inside you, kissing you lightly on your lips, your neck, your breasts.

Azriel pulled back to look into your eyes, holding you close to him. “You're everything to me,” he murmured, his hips meeting yours in a slow, steady rhythm.

You felt your bottom lip tremble and he wiped his thumb over it gently, his eyes laser focused on you. “You're everything to me,” you admitted, breathlessly.

His mouth turned up into that half smile that you loved. “Even more than books?”

You brought your hand to the back of his neck, gently pulling him down for a kiss. “Even more than books,” you said.

He moaned, picking up speed slightly. Then he laughed. “That turned me on way more than I was expecting.”

You laughed too, and within a few minutes, the two of you were climaxing together, holding each other tightly.

After you caught your breath and cleaned up, you said, “I want your shirt back.”

Azriel laughed, delight flooding his expression as he tossed it back to you. “Good. It looks better on you than it ever could on me.”

---

When you didn’t meet Azriel for dinner, he was worried. You were always on time. Always. 

He was thankful the two of you had shared your location with each other ages ago. When he checked, you were in your apartment, and seemingly hadn’t moved in hours. 

There was no answer when he knocked. He fished the spare key you’d given him out of his pocket and went into your apartment. 

He found you in bed, fast asleep. You looked pale, a shiny gleam of sweat on your brow. He frowned, feeling your forehead, and swore. You were burning up. 

You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut even tighter. “Az?”

“Yeah, it’s me, sweetheart,” he said quietly, stroking your cheek.

Scrunching your nose, you mumbled, “I don’t feel good.”

“I can tell,” he murmured. “One second, I’ll be right back,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before he went to your kitchen.

He came back with a glass of water and ibuprofen. “Can you sit up, baby?”

You opened your eyes slowly, then reached for his wrist, laser focused on your own hand as you touched him. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I thought I was hallucinating you,” you said matter-of-factly, your eyes sleepy.

Azriel couldn’t help but laugh, despite his concern. “Oh, wow. Okay, this is worse than I thought.”

He set the water and medicine on the bedside table, then climbed into bed with you, sitting against the headboard, then gently pulling you to a sitting position, settling you between his legs, leaning your back against his chest. You groaned, leaning your head back against him, too.

“Drink this,” he said softly, holding the cup in front of you, his other hand resting on your thigh. 

“I don’t like water without ice,” you mumbled.

“I know. If you’d open your eyes, you’d see the ice in the glass.”

After a moment, you said, “Oh.”

He breathed a sigh of relief as you took the cup from his hand, taking a few sips. 

“Take this,” he said, holding two ibuprofen in front of you. 

You swallowed them without argument, leaning back against him like it took great effort just to do that.

“You wanna lay back down?” He asked.

“Please,” you said quietly. 

He shifted, easing you back against the pillows as gently as he could. “Anything else I can do?”

“I’m too hot,” you grumbled. 

He rifled through your drawers, pulling out shorts and a tank top for you before sliding your pajama pants and your t-shirt off. Getting the new clothes on you was more effort than he had anticipated. He wasn’t used to putting your clothes on.

You let out a satisfied sigh though, when you had changed. 

He refilled your water glass and set it on the table before he slid into bed next to you, holding you in his arms. 

“You don't have to stay,” you mumbled.

“Don't be stupid,” he said, brushing the hair off your face. “Of course I'm staying.”

“I love you,” you muttered, almost too quiet for him to hear.

“I love you, too,” he said, kissing your head softly. “Go to sleep.”

It was a long night, not only because it started around 7. Azriel barely slept. He was too busy feeling your forehead, bringing you cold towels, willing your fever to go down. 

By the morning, you seemed to be doing a bit better, but still not back to normal. 

You mumbled something incoherent, nuzzling into his chest. 

“Hmm?” he asked, tilting your chin up so he could hear you. 

“Shower?” you asked, your eyes finally opening and focusing on him. 

He kissed the top of your head before scooping you up in his arms and carrying you to your bathroom. 

It was the least sexy shower he had ever taken. You were slumping over, leaning against him to stay upright. He had one arm looped around you, running the soap over your body with his other hand. 

It worried him that you could hardly hold yourself up. 

He had watched you like a hawk all morning until, a few hours later, still slumped over in your bed, you said, “What time is it?”

He checked his phone. “Almost 11.”

“Shit,” you said, sitting up, grabbing for your own phone. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You stood up, looking exhausted. “I have to go to class.”

Raising an eyebrow, he watched as you looked around for your backpack. “You’re kidding, right? You can barely sit up for fifteen minutes.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you said, a little frantically. “This professor is strict, I can’t miss any notes.”

He stood up, crossing over to you, settling his hands on your shoulders so you’d stop and look at him. “Sweetheart, you need to stay here and rest.”

You shook your head, your eyes welling with tears. “I can’t, Az, I have to go.”

Heart breaking for you, his hands moved to your cheeks. “Baby, you can miss one class. You know you can’t go like this.”

You slumped back down on the bed, exhausted. “I know,” you said, your voice breaking. “But this class is so much work. If I miss one class, I’ll be so behind.”

Azriel sat next to you, helping you lay back down in your bed. “Do you know anybody in the class? I can go get the notes for you.”

You swallowed, then shook your head lightly. “No. I don’t know anybody who would give me the notes.”

“You sure?” He asked. “Nobody?”

Sighing, you settled back against the pillows. “Claire is the only person in the class that I know,” you said quietly. 

His stomach dropped. He hadn’t thought about Claire in a long time, hadn’t seen her in almost a year, not since the party that nearly ruined your life, and his. 

“I can ask her,” he said quietly.

“No.”

“If you’re this worried about it, I’ll ask her,” he said soothingly, running his hand back and forth on your leg.

“She won’t give them to you,” you grumbled. 

The hurt in your voice, in your eyes, made his heart crack. He knew you were remembering it all, all the hurt that he and Claire had caused last year. “Let me try? For you?”

You looked into his eyes, studying him. Finally, you said quietly, “Okay.”

Azriel would do anything for you. This proved it. Claire was the last person that he ever wanted to see. 

He would convince her to give you those notes. He didn’t know how, but he would figure it out. 

You had given Azriel the room number for your class, and he lingered outside just before it ended, waiting for class to let out. 

When Claire walked out, he cleared his throat. She turned to him, her smile positively feline. “Azriel. I haven’t seen you around this year.”

“I’ve been busy,” he said shortly. “I need a copy of the lecture notes from today.”

She raised her eyebrow. “The bookworm’s got you running errands when she skips class now?”

“Don’t call her that,” he snapped. “Are you going to give me the notes, or not?”

Claire looked at Azriel, studying him. “Why should I?”

“You owe her. This is the least you can do,” he said, not trying to hide the edge in his voice. 

She shook her head, incredulously. “She’s got you wrapped around her little finger, doesn’t she?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, she does. And she’s half delirious with a fever right now, but she’s still stressed enough about these notes that I’m here, talking to you. So, give me the notes.”

Her eyes widened slightly at his harsh tone. She looked at him for a beat longer before, wordlessly, she took her notebook out, flipped to the most recent page, and handed it to him. 

He took a picture of it with his phone, then handed it back to her. “Thanks, Claire.”

Without another word, he turned on his heels, going back home to you. 

You were asleep when he let himself back into your apartment, and he was thankful to see a little more color in your face than when he had left. 

He closed the door behind him, and your eyes opened slowly, a faint smile spreading on your face when you saw him. 

“How’d it go?” 

Azriel smiled, showing you the picture of the notes on his phone, before texting it to you. 

You grinned, “Wow. You’re my favorite person in the whole world.”

He laughed, his heart thundering in his chest at your words. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “And you’re mine.”

--- 

“Fucking hell,” Azriel said, his eyes trailing down your body. “That’s what you’re wearing today?” 

“What?” you asked, looking down at your sundress. “You don’t like it?”

He smirked, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you against him. He kissed down your neck, nipping lightly. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to keep my hands off you.”

You giggled, heat running through you at his touch. “If you hadn’t made dinner reservations, I would say that we should skip date night, but…”

He groaned, threading his fingers through your hair and kissing you deeply. “Why’d I have to think ahead and be responsible?”

“You’ve been spending too much time with me,” you sighed as he continued kissing you. 

“Impossible,” he said happily, peppering kisses all over your face. 

All throughout dinner, Azriel’s eyes were boring into yours, his eyes dark with lust, his leg brushing yours under the table, his hand holding yours. 

It was maddening.

As soon as you were back in your apartment, Azriel bent you over your kitchen table, flipping your skirt up before smacking your ass lightly. 

He growled as he slid your panties down your legs, immediately putting his mouth on you, sucking hard.

You groaned, clinging to the table, focusing on keeping yourself upright just as much as you were focusing on the feel of him devouring you.

When he moaned against you, your legs started trembling. “Az, I need you inside me,” you panted. 

He stood up immediately, and you shivered as you heard him undo his belt, dropping his pants, pulling off his shirt. 

“Fuck,” he moaned through gritted teeth as he entered you completely with one powerful thrust. He pounded into you in hard, fast movements, his thighs slapping against your ass over and over again. 

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think beyond the feeling of him inside you. 

He wrapped your hair around his fist, pulling gently, his other hand gripping your waist tightly. 

You whimpered, but as he sped up his pace, slamming into you even harder, you let out an involuntary shriek. 

“That’s it, scream for me, baby,” he growled. 

So, you did.

---

You sighed, resting your head on your arms for a moment. Finals were quickly approaching and you were exhausting yourself. 

A knock on your door made your heart leap. There’s only one person who would show up without warning. 

There was a newfound energy, a bounce in your step as you opened the door to find Azriel on the other side, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hand. 

“Hey, beautiful,” he smiled, offering the flowers to you. 

“What are these for?” you asked, your heart thundering in your chest. 

He leaned down to kiss you. “Figured you’re driving yourself insane with studying by now,” he said, smiling. “And also because I love you.”

You beamed, rising to your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I love you. Thank you, Az, this is so sweet.” 

Wandering into the kitchen to get a vase, you sighed. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, coming up behind you, pulling you into him once the flowers were settled on the table. 

You shrugged. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“Anything I can help with?” He asked, his brow furrowed with concern. 

You couldn't help but smile, resting your chin on his chest as you looked up at him. “Not unless you want to do my homework. Or figure out what I should do this summer.”

‘What are you thinking for the summer?” He said.

“I don't know. I want to stay close by…” you trailed off, smiling at him. “There's kinda this guy I want to spend time with as much as I can.”

He grinned, leaning down to kiss you. “So, stay close by. What is there to figure out?”

“My lease is up at the end of the semester,” you said, sadly. “And everything in my budget is pretty much booked.”

“Well,” he said softly, leaning down to brush his nose against yours. “What if you moved in with me?”

Your eyes widened, your heart pounding. “Really? Do you think we're ready for that?”

“I mean, we spend all of our time together already. All of our nights,” he said, shifting to press a kiss to your forehead. “I know that I'm more in love with you than I could have ever imagined,” he smiled. “If it's not what you want, that's okay. But, I think it could be kinda great.”

You pictured it, living with Azriel, sharing your life with him in that way. “I think it would be really great,” you beamed up at him.

His face lit up, his eyes shining. “Yeah?”

“Let's do it,” you said.

He grinned, lifting you in his arms and spinning you around, his deep laugh bouncing off the walls. “I love you,” he murmured, gazing into your eyes as he set you back on the ground. “I can't wait for the rest of my life with you.”

Your heart soared, your knees weak. “Me either, Az.”

@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @evergreenlark @ecliphttlunar @bookloverandalsocats @melmo567 @headacheseason @sillysillygoose444 @halibshepherd @azrielshadows1nger @yourqueenlilith @mariamay02

Want to see more? Check out part 3!

[taylorman2274]

We Care About You (Part III)

Those who have been with you since the beginning discuss the differences they've noticed with and without your presence.

Content Warning(s): Jean, Kaeya, & Albedo Story Quest Spoilers; Mondstadt Archon Quest Spoilers

Notes: SAGAU; GN!Reader; [T/N] = Traveler Name

Word Count: 2.1k

Previous || Next

Taglist: @silverstarred; @victoria1676; @angelofdarkness2; @areaderspov; @andromeda-gay; @ash1; @mercy-not-merci; @toodledoodl3;

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

The sun had fully risen over the horizon by the time all the stores in Mondstadt's main plaza had opened for the day. Blanche was finishing setting up her fruit trays on the counter by the time Marjorie and Timeaus arrived at their respective stores. Sara, on the other hand, had already opened up Good Hunter half an hour ago. This was in case there were any early birds or if any of the aforementioned shopkeepers wanted a quick bite to eat before work.

Today, the Traveler and Paimon were examples of early birds, as the two were enjoying breakfast from Good Hunter. However, as they were eating their respective meals, they were approached by Raymond, a Knight of Favonius.

"Morning, Traveler. Morning, Paimon," he greeted. "Sorry to interrupt your meal, but I'm here to inform you that your presence has been requested by the Acting Grand Master. She requests that you head on over to headquarters immediately."

Paimon groaned. "Does Jean really have to summon us this early? Paimon hasn't even finished her Fisherman's Toast yet."

"I apologize once again, but it would be rude to keep the Acting Grand Master waiting," Raymond replied.

The Traveler shook their head. "No worries. I'm just about finished anyway." They got up from their seat. "Would you like for me to get you a to-go box, Paimon?

"Get a to-go box? Has Paimon not already proved to you what she's capable of? Watch this!" Paimon proclaimed before chowing down the rest of her Fisherman's Toast as quickly as Paimonly possible.

...Said way involved burying herself nose-deep in her plate and practically inhaling all the food left on her plate. The Traveler and Raymond even had to hold their hands up to their faces to protect themselves from any flying food.

Maybe they shouldn't have bought her a triple stack...

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

Despite being invited by Jean herself, The Traveler decided to knock on her office door. It was only proper manners.

"Enter."

They opened the door and allowed Paimon to enter first before letting themselves in. As soon as Jean recognized them, she gracefully got up from her chair and walked around to the front of her desk.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Honorary Knight. I know you must be tired.”

The Traveler shook their head. "It was no trouble. Paimon and I were already up to begin with."

"Is that so? It's a shame my cuties didn't think to greet me in the library first thing in the morning. Your company can certainly revitalize this mage's energy." Came a voice to their left. Both newcomers swiveled their heads to look at the other visitor partially hidden in the corner.

"Lisa? Were you called here by Jean as well?" questioned Paimon.

"I was," Lisa confirmed, perplexion etched on her face, "Though I haven't been told why yet."

"I called you both here for the same reason. However, not everyone has arrived yet. We're still waiting on two more people. Once they’ve arrived, I’ll explain everything," Jean explained.

To pass the time, the Traveler, Paimon, and Lisa began to catch up with each other on what had happened since they last met while Jean leaned against her desk and peeked at the ticking clock on the wall from time to time.

She wasn't worried about the other two members being late. They each were fellow Knights of Favonius members after all. They know the standards that need to be set in order to maintain their position.

A few minutes later, everyone in the office could hear rapid footsteps from outside the room. Not even a second later the door was thrown open by Amber who quickly entered the room and put her hands on her knees to catch her breath.

pant ... pant ... "Sorry I'm late, Jean. I got caught up with something."

Jean shook her head. "Not to worry, Amber. We haven't started talking about anything yet." Jean snuck a peak behind Amber towards the open door. "Did you happen to see Kaeya on the way here?"

Amber straightened up and nodded her head. "I did, actually. He's..."

"Right here."

Kaeya smoothly walked into the office and quietly shut the door Amber left open behind him.

Jean gave a quick nod. "Good. That should be everybody." Everyone gathered around Jean in a semi-circle. "I bet you're all wondering why I've called you here this early."

"To put it simply, I'd rather get this discussion out of the way before we all start work for the day. This mainly concerns the Traveler, but I promise you all are important to this discussion as well."

Jean turned her attention to the Traveler. "First off, how are your adventures going?"

The Traveler looked at Jean in confusion. Jean called all of them here just to ask them about their adventures? "...Pretty well I guess. I've hit a few obstacles here and there but it was nothing I couldn't handle."

Jean nodded. "That's good to hear. And what about this latest obstacle you're facing?"

Now it was Paimon's turn to be confused. "Latest obstacle...?" she murmured, "Oh! Do you mean [Y/N]?"

Amber, Lisa, and Kaeya all widened their eyes in surprise as they looked at Paimon. Jean nodded once again.

"Yes. That's exactly the reason why I've called you all here. Although I may not know much about [Y/N], I understand that you all have had some experience with them. If you could tell me all that you know about them, I'll get a better understanding of what our next action should be."

The Traveler nodded in understanding before looking around at the others. "Should I go first, or do you all want to share your thoughts now?"

Amber was the first to reply. "Sure! I'll go first. In my opinion, the Traveler and [Y/N] are the same person, but also different people. When I first met the Traveler outside of the Whispering Woods, they introduced themselves as [Y/N]. However, once we dealt with the sources of Stormterror's power in the abandoned Four Winds' Temples, they seemed much livelier. That was when they explained that they were actually [T/N], and [Y/N] was this 'ghost or entity-like thing' that possessed them against their will.

Lisa nodded. "It's true. When we were traversing through the last temple, I felt as if my body was not under my control, but I was still conscious to witness what I was doing. It was scary at first, but after a while, I kind of got used to it."

Jean raised a skeptical brow. "And why is that?"

"Because [Y/N] and I were trying to achieve the same thing. They guided me through the temple, defeated all of the enemies, and destroyed Stormterror's crystal, all things that I originally intended to do myself."

Jean brought a hand to her chin. "Interesting..."

Kaeya raised his hand, signaling to speak next. "It's not just that, either. Later on when I had the Traveler lure some Treasure Hoarders to some ruins, one of them accidentally activated a Ruin Guard while attempting to flee. We managed to take it down, of course, while being guided by [Y/N], but I noticed that I had gotten stronger in between fighting the treasure hoarders outside the ruins and fighting the Ruin Guard. We defeated the Ruin Guard a lot quicker than I thought we would."

Jean furrowed her brows. "But Ruin Guards are a lot harder to defeat than mere Treasure Hoarders. Surely you must be exaggerating?"

Kaeya chuckled. "I can assure you, Jean. The strength I gained when guided by [Y/N] is no exaggeration. Surely you must've felt their presence yourself?"

"Outside of the day when I got burnout, no. But even then, I didn't exactly feel I was much stronger."

"Oh!" Amber blurted out. "Speaking of getting stronger, I've noticed that [Y/N] has improved some of my abilities as well! For example, the day before we pulled that whole sleeping stunt on [Y/N], we were helping them complete some commissions around Mondstadt. While we were completing them, I noticed that I could suddenly fire two arrows with one shot! Not only that, but I was able to manually detonate my Baron Bunny by shooting at it!"

Amber frowned. “The only downside is that I haven't had much success replicating these abilities when I'm not with [Y/N].”

"So you've noticed as well?" Lisa asked. "I thought I was the only one to notice." She turned her attention back to Jean. "You see, [Y/N] typically has me defeat hydro slimes whenever they appear, and with them I'm normally able to defeat them in one or two hits. However, I wanted to test a theory I've been thinking about recently. So I went to go find a hydro slime and see how many hits it took to defeat it. Just as I thought, it took nearly double the number of hits before it was beaten."

"I see. And is this something that we should look into?"

"No. I just thought it was something worth mentioning."

"Alright then. And when [Y/N] does guide you, is it only to complete commissions?" Jean inquired.

"Oh no!" Amber eyes sparkled. "We've been helping the Honorary Knight and [Y/N] all across Teyvat! It's amazing!"

Jean smiled. "Then you all must be enjoying your adventures, I presume?"

"But of course!" exclaimed Amber. "I've always wanted to see the world beyond Mondstadt and it's just as grand as I imagined."

"That's good to hear." Jean then looked down at the floor and sighed. "...Honestly, there are times when I wish I could throw my work to the side and travel alongside you, Honorary Knight."

"Paimon is certain that [Y/N] would love to have you join their Adventure Team! If it becomes possible, Paimon will put in a good word for you."

Jean chuckled. "Thanks, Paimon." She turned her attention to the Traveler. "And what about you? What do you know about [Y/N]?"

"It's a pretty long story. The first time I ever got a clue as to who [Y/N] was was when I was in the middle of helping Albedo with his research. During the middle of some experiments, I felt their presence leaving. However, almost immediately after they left I saw a bright light in the sky. It only lasted for a few seconds, but when the light went away, I saw that it had come from Celestia!"

Jean looked shocked for a moment but quickly composed herself. She had an image to maintain after all. "Really?! From Celestia?"

"Yes. Albedo saw it as well and it piqued his curiosity. To make a long story short, he found out that for a brief moment, the light that spawns from Celestia forms as if one is opening a door to an unlit room. He hypothesizes that whoever [Y/N] is, they are not from Celestia but somewhere beyond it. Maybe even another world entirely."

Kaeya smirked. "From another world, eh? So does that mean [Y/N] is an alien?"

The Traveler shook their head. "I don't think so. Most of the worlds I traveled to before Teyvat were inhabited by humans. I would assume that if [Y/N] is from another world, they would be human as well.

"How certain are you?" inquired Jean.

"I'm like 90% certain they're human," the Traveler confirmed. Amber hummed in thought.

"Do you think they might be a god?"

“A god whose eyes are focused on a world separate from theirs? Sounds unlikely to me,” countered Lisa.

"Regardless..." Jean interjected. "[Y/N] has been absent for a while now, correct?" The Traveler nodded. "Have you thought about continuing your journey without them should they not come back?"

"I've had the thought. But I'm willing to wait however long is necessary if it means I get to see them again."

Jean put a hand to her chin. "Are you sure? I would gladly be willing to have Amber, Lisa, or Kaeya travel with you for the foreseeable future."

Paimon nodded. "It's been almost a week since that incident, and yet Paimon has never seen the Traveler lose any determination at all!"

Jean nodded as well. "I see. In that case, I believe that is all I have to say for this discussion. It was nice meeting you once again, Honorary Knight."

"The same goes for you, Jean.”

Everyone exchanged goodbyes with each other and, minus Jean, prepared to leave the office. However, just before they left...

"Hey. Is it just me, or is it getting brighter outside?"

Kaeya looked towards Amber. "I'm sure it's just the clouds moving past the sun."

Amber shook her head, keeping her gaze towards the window. "No... I didn't see any clouds when I first came in..."

The room was silent. Some looked to the window while others kept their attention on Amber.

Suddenly, Paimon gasped.

"Paimon!" The Traveler shouted in surprise. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"...They're back..." she whispered.

The Traveler tilted their head. "Who's back?"

Paimon was too stunned to speak, but it didn't take long for the Traveler to figure out why. Their eyes grew wide in shock.

"[Y/N]!!" They suddenly exclaimed as they bolted past everyone. Everyone quickly followed the Traveler outside.

Once they all gathered outside. They quickly turned their gaze towards Celestia. Just as they thought, a light, though less noticeable during the day, was slowly getting brighter.

"Sorry, Jean! We've got to go! Don't wanna be late!" Paimon quickly said before everyone aside from Jean was teleported away.

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

"It sure is taking a long time to check for updates," you thought.

After countless research, note-taking, and several anxiety breakdowns, you were finally ready to hop back onto Genshin and meet up with the people who you now realize are alive and sentient.

"I hope all this makes a good impression on them."

The door appeared.

With one click, you would be back to where this trouble all started…

Breathe in… Breathe out…

click

The door opened.

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

Author Side Notes: I looked at my fanfiction and decided that it needed LORE™

Once again, I'll be editing this chapter over the next upcoming days. I sort of prefer it as opposed to keeping this in my drafts. I don't want you all waiting for the next part too long!

[myuviis]

FIVE PHOTOS

synopsis: it was karina’s birthday and you made a special gift for her

pairing(s): student!karina x student!female!reader

genre: fluff

warning(s): swearing (abit)

note: happy bday to my wife karina

karina was too busy studying. she had tests coming her way and she couldn’t fail any of them. you came into her room and heard the pen scratching the piece of paper paired with some soft music playing on her laptop. you knocked on her opened door three times, she looked back at you in surprise.

“oh!” she jumped up. “hi baby, i’m just finishing things here.” you kissed her forehead and handed her an photo album.

“what’s this?” she asked forgetting about her work. “open it.” you smiled.

she opened the book and saw pages with memories and words written down.

FIRST

photo: you two in the library studying together. you both looked so peaceful together. the photo was taken by a friend.

letter:

this was the first time we had studied in the library together. you were teaching me biology. i think i was too focused on your face instead of what you said :( but anyways, you were such a good teacher and i loved how every time your bangs fell down you would put them behind your ears showing your sharp jawline. loved this moment bc i saw your side profile. i was flabbergasted and in so much shock how i managed to pull you. i don’t think you noticed at all but i had to control my breathing because you were too pretty. u were too focused on the text book tho. cutie ;(

SECOND

photo: karina with flowers

letter:

this was our first valentine together!! i can’t believe you beat me to it and asked me to be your valentine first!! >:( i was literally planning it too.. but im glad you did it anyways because i think i would’ve pussied out in the end yk? but anyways, i got you flowers (jacob’s ladder and roses combined if u forgot) i only knew you liked them because i begged for your friends to tell me :D (i paid them to do it) they were so secretive and suspicious of me (especially winter) i was sweating so hard… :( in the end ningning bursted it all out proudly just because i gave her 10 bucks :(

THIRD

photo: karina wearing mickey mouse headband

letter:

okay you looked so cute in this photo i was gonna latch onto you and squeeze your cheeks. i remember you telling me that your cheeks were so swollen because you ate something last night and told me to not take a photo.. poor bby :( but how could i resist, you looked so cute. i remember before we fell asleep you asked me “will you be the minnie mouse to my mickey mouse” so proudly. i think you proposed to me but whatever :( i’m your wife now btw you have no choice :D

FOURTH

photo: karina sipping coffee

letter:

i bet you didn’t even know i had this photo of you <3 but like you were too pretty i had to take a photo. and guess what? this was on the digital camera you gave me for my birthday! love you for that btw <333 i’m pretty sure this was when the cafe just opened and you had dragged me there to check it out. never thought we would go there almost weekly now. at first i thought that there wasn’t much people and it was probably bad. you said “the less people the better! no one was disturb us now” and smiled brightly at me. u awakened smth in me i swearrrr. i mean u were my gay awakening sooooo

FIFTH

photo: karina eating hotpot

letter:

i remember you telling me at 11pm that there was a new hotpot restaurant nearby and that you were craving some. ofc i thought it was too late but somehow you changed my mind?? it was a 10 minute walk and the hotpot was so worth the money. it was pretty pricey and you insisted on paying for it but ofc i couldn’t let you do that my princess pookie wookie bear <333 you looked so happy after on the walk back home and ofc you slept like a koala clinging onto me when we went to sleep. i think that hotpot did smth to u.. i cant rlly say anything tho bc that actually helped me sleep till 11am. i love you

“you’re so sweet baby.” she put the book down and hugged you. you giggled. “it’s really nothing. happy birthday karina.” you smiled. “i love you.” she said. “love you too.” you kissed her on the lips. “how about you take a break today?” you suggested. she nodded. karina jumped up and wrapped her legs around your waist. “wait—!” you said before you both fall backwards on her bed. “you’re lucky the bed was behind me.”

[mywritersmind]

MEET ME IN THE LIBRARY - LN4

summary : He’s a certified book theif, she’s a perfect distraction. Some sweet interactions between y/n x lando in their college life.

listen up : LANDO NORRIS JOCK FRAT BOY AU🗣️🗣️ guys this was so cutie i love !! i need more romance books also lol. some dirty jokes but that’s about it! the FIA is lando’s frat lol

word count : 4480

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I regret wearing a skirt as I step into the library, the cold temperatures not changing at all. But I'm trying to get in and out quickly. Which is hard while surrounded by books.

I smile at Ms. Finigan, hurrying up the stairs and past favorite section, romance. I sadly walk past, seeing all of my favorite titles call to me.

I find the Shakespeare section and realize that I need to get out of my comfort zone sometimes. I’m scanning the books before I find my next victim. Romeo and Juliet. The overly romanticized book about two idiot pre teens.

I finally think something is going right for me today, until I go to reach for it. Someone next to me reaches over my head and snatches it right out of my reach.

I turn to yell at the man who’s taken my book, but then I realize who it is.

Lando Norris.

Of course, today of all days, he has to be in my way.

He’s devastatingly gorgeous, an insane athlete, and utterly annoying. “You’re Y/n… Right?” I push the fact that I've never introduced myself out of my mind and reach for the book.

He pulls it back, I'm still bookless. And he, with his backwards hat and FIA hoodie, is just peering at me like I'm some zoo animal.

He raises a brow at me as I frown, “Yes. Could I have my book?”

“Your book?”

He’s cocky and arrogant and I’m getting distracted by his eyes. “Yes, My soon to be book if you’d let me have it! Please, Norris. I’m late.”

“Norris?” He eyes me, “Didn’t know you knew who I was.”

“Glad you learned something today!” I reach for the book but he holds it over his head, “I need it!”

“Why do you need it?”

I cross my arms, “Why do you need to know?” Sadly, this doesn’t put him off. A smirk grows on his handsome face.

“Sassy.” He brings the book behind his back but when I reach for it, he just steps closer. I narrow my eyes because what game is he playing? “You’re cute when you’re angry.” Yeah… what the fuck.

I step back, “I'm going to be late, Lando.” He smiles when I say his name, “Why do you need it?”

“Just some light reading.” I frown, trying to think of any way I can get it from him, “I’ll give it to you if you beg for it.”

“Awh.” I fake pout before rolling my eyes and walking away, “I’d rather choke.”

“I know something you can c-” I snap my head around and he honestly looks scared. “Sorry.”

“Sorry? I swear to fucking god Norris, if you’re just screwing me over for fun-” I let out an angry groan and take a deep breath in, reminding myself how bad I need it, “I need it. My professor needs me to have the hardcopy, and I need him to like me because normally all my professors like me and I’ve never failed and he’s the type to fail me because of something like this.” I don’t mean to dump all my thoughts onto him but he doesn’t look fazed.

“Alright, Ace. Should have thought a bit ahead then, huh?” He gives me an annoying look and I suddenly get the urge to slap him.

“You don’t seem like the type to be into Shakespeare.” He almost looks surprised that i’m not falling at his feet.

“I’m not.” He shrugs in the way all frat guys do, and I know he won’t say any more.

I need to cut my losses, “Whatever, I am so late.” I start walking away but he follows.

“Need a ride?”

I eye him, standing in the front steps, “You’ll give me a ride but not that book?” He starts talking again but I just shake my head, not being able to deal with this anymore.

“Come on, wait!”

I keep walking.

“You made me feel bad, Ace!”

So he does have a heart.

“Your loss!”

When I turn back one last time, my middle finger in the air, I see him getting into his immensely expensive Mclaren, and winking at me.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I make it to my class late, after my professor embarrasses me in front of the whole class because I don’t have my book, I finally finish and make my way back to my apartment. I hear a loud sigh as I walk in. My roommate, Lily Muni He is spread out on the couch and frowning at her laptop, “I'm dropping out.”

“After the day i've had, me too” I go straight to the fridge.

“What happened?”

”Oh you mean spilling my coffee all over my favorite sweater, Lando Norris asking me to beg for it, Or my professor yelling at me in front of my whole creative writing class?” I open my tug of ice cream.

Her jaw drops, “What!?”

“Yeah my new sweater that I spent months saving for-” I dive my spoon into the chocolate and peanut butter mixture before she screams and cuts me off.

“NO! Go back! What do you mean Lando Norris!? Lando Norris asked you to beg for WHAT!?” I plop down on the couch with her.

“Oh. That.” I roll my eyes, thinking back to his dickish moves today. I’ve met him but not in a formal sense, when he was trying to get into the most exclusive frat on campus (FIA) the guys would volunteer at the library I work at to read to kids. Lily claps her hands in front of my face and I snap back to reality.

I tell her the story and while I'm hung up on my poor book, probably in his nasty room, she’s hung up on the fact that Lando offered me a ride in his Mclaren.

“You know, he’s not as bad as everyone makes him out to be.” I don’t believe her, “Seriously! He shared a room with Alex last year and was actually really nice to me. Definitely player vibes but at least he’s a nice one.”

I frown, “Well that’s great for you! But he’s holding my book hostage.”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“One iced coffee with oat milk please!” I smile and reach into my bag, digging around for my wallet. Okay! no need to panic, I have no wallet but I have apple pay.

Except when I tap my phone, the lady taking my order shakes her head at me, “Declined… Any other way you could pay?”

I sigh, honestly about to walk right out with all of my shame left over. But a familiar arm reaches over me for the second time, handing over a credit card.

“I’ve got it.” Lando fucking Norris. “Good to see you again, Ace.” He shoots me that heartthrob smile before the woman swipes his card and within two minutes, we’re holding drinks.

“You really didn’t have to…” I take my coffee from him as we move out of the way. He sips his matcha latte and smiles.

“It’s no problem. I felt sort of bad that I took your book anyways.” I frown at his words, still angry, “But if you want to repay me back, you can sit with me.”

I don’t know why he wants to. But he bought my eight dollar coffee so who am I to say no?

We sit at the seats facing the window, looking out onto the street that’s covered in orange and brown leaves.

Lando doesn’t talk first, just sips his drink and watches the two dogs at separate tables outside play together.

I don’t know why I say it, but I can’t help myself, “Do you have pets?”

His head turns to me and I realize how curly his mullet really is. No hat or weird gel just makes him more attractive and I fear I'm not mad at it.

“Nah, the house doesn’t allow it. Besides Franco’s weird lizard…” He looks disgusted for a second before looking at me again, “Do you?”

I nod, “A cat.”

“What’s its name?” It’s a bit weird that he’s interested, but I’ll take any chance I get to talk about my child.

“Jo! Like Jo March.” He looks confused, “Little women?” He still looks confused, “Louisa May Alcott…?” When I realize he’s not getting it I nod, “It’s a book.”

“Ah… I don’t know much about those.”

I can’t help but say, “But you know about Romeo and Juliet, right?” He better because I did not get called out just for him to not read it.

“It was for my friend…” He cringes as I scoff, “I’m sorry! He needed it! Uh- Carlos? He’s in your class too I think…”

I swat his arm, “You gave it to someone in my class!? That’s even worse!”

He laughs, “Sorry, not sorry! He asked nicely.”

I eye him, “Oh, and I didn’t?” He shakes his head, his hand going to his hair as his elbow rests against the table. He hides his face in his arms but I can still see his smile.

I roll my eyes, “Well, thanks to you I got humiliated in class!”

“Hey, I bought you coffee, you can’t be mad!” I huff and look back outside, he stays looking at my side profile for a second then joins me in silence.

Silence that is quickly broken by a girls shrill voice, “Lando!” Kill me now. I don’t know what’s about to happen, but I don’t want to be apart of it.

Sadly, I'm not struck down by lightning and have to watch the blonde wrap her arms around Lando. His eyes go wide but when she pulls away, he gives a cool nod.

“Katy.”

“Where’ve you been?” She giggles, not paying any attention to me and resting a hand on his arm, “I’ve missed you.”

Lando glances at me, “Um… around?” She giggles at this again.

“I’ll be at the party on sunday! Me and Rennee!” Lando seems to be overtaken by a coughing fit and I promptly stand, grabbing my bag and coffee.

“Thanks for the coffee, Norris. I gotta go!” He watches me leave, looking like he’s going to say something. But he doesn’t.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

It’s not everyday that a frat car wash happens. But when it does, I know it’s going to be a good one. My friends make me drive, Lily’s next to me and she said she had to support her boyfriend.

Watching twenty shirtless guys grind shirtless on my car is definitely an interesting support system. But hey, i’m not complaining.

I’m crying laughing by the time my car is getting soaped up, Lily is screaming and Alexandra and Francesca are videoing in the back.

Lily bangs on the window, Alex pops up, smiling at her, “Get Lando!” I lunge for her as soon as she says it, “Ah!” She screams as I turn her to me.

“Lily!” The girls in the back are crying now, “Lily no!”

She just giggles, “Too late!” I look to my left to see Oscar (a guy from my chem class) and Lando walking towards the car.

Francesca and Alexandra are watching the man on top of the car but i’m totally and completely zoned in on Lando’s soapy wet abs.

“I hate you.” I say to Lily but she just giggles.

“No you don’t!” Him, Oscar and Alex start basically dry humping my car. I cover my face but Lando slams his hand on the window.

He looks personally offended, a fat grin back on his face. He points to my eyes, then his. I roll my eyes and he sticks his tongue out.

They continue to assault my car and just as I’m wondering why all of them are ripped. Lando gets thrown onto my windshield, being moved around like a rag by Alex and Oscar who are laughing hysterically.

I clap my hands together, honestly admiring his effort, I'm laughing still. I bring my fingers to my lips and whistle as Lando grabs the hose, pouring it on himself.

“Shit!” Lily hits my arm repeatedly as he sprays us.

“You’re ridiculous!” I yell and he laughs at my words.

He just spreads his arms and shrugs, “Only for you, Ace!” His muscles are distracting me. They're even making me gloss over that this is the third time he’s called me ‘Ace’.

He blows me a kiss before running his hand down his body, sticking his tongue out as I shake my head.

“Excuse me!” Francesca yells from behind us, “Are you and Lando Norris, fucking!?”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

LANDOS POV

I’m officially embarrassing myself. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Y/n whisper yells at me as I slide into the seat next to her.

“I had to wait for Carlos anyways so I thought, Hmm I know someone in this class!” The professor starts speaking as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“You can’t just be here! Why don’t you go sit with Carlos?”

“Well that’s easy, Ace. You’re much prettier than he is.” I don’t miss the blush that finds her cheeks, smiling to myself because I did that. “Saw you at our car wash last week.”

“Have you ever considered a career in the magic mike industry?” She whispers as she moves her pencil across the paper.

I laugh a bit too loud and when the professor calls me on it, I stand and wave, “Sorry, Prof! Won’t. happen again!”

When I sit back down, she gives me a death stare, “Why is it that in the three years I've been at this school, I've had the pleasure of never running into you, but in the past three weeks, I've seen you everywhere?”

“Maybe I just want you to see me now.” I knew her name, she was too pretty to forget but never hung around our group and I was otherwise occupied.

But now that I've actually talked to her, I realize that maybe I like her for more than her killer face.

She doesn’t look up yet, “Did you run out of girls on the campus and I'm the last victim?” I know she thinks I'm a sort of… slut? Town bike? Classic Frat boy?

But honestly is it a crime to enjoy myself?

I know I really enjoy myself with her.

“I’ll let you be anything to me, Ace. Anything except victim, seems like something I’d get kicked out for.” He laughs under her breath, I love when I make her laugh.

“The only thing I am to you, is a way to be distracting.” I grin because she’s exactly right.

“True.” I lean in closer, resting my arm on her chair, “I can think of a lot of ways we can be distracting to this class.”

She elbows my side and when I groan, she eyes me, “Ow!”

She shakes her head and continues listening. I let her for a while, looking at her shoes and avoiding looking at her legs. I fail at the second one and she snaps her fingers in front of my face.

“I won’t let you sit here if you’re gonna be checking me out the whole time.”

I listen to her, scrolling on my phone and making little remarks at what she’s writing, “So you wanna be an author?” she hums in response, “You like to read?” She nods again, “I bet you read smut.”

She hits me again, “Lando!”

“What!? With that reaction, I know I'm right.” she’s blushing again and suddenly all I want is to look at her bookshelf, “No need to be embarrassed we all have our vices.” She covers her face from me and I smile.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I down two shots before going to Lando’s frat party. My friends are obsessing over the fact that we were invited but i’m more nervous than I have been in a while.

Francesca is a lion, Lily is princess peach (a couples costume with Alex), Alexandra is a fairy, and the only things I could find were a white dress and wings so i’ve labeled myself as Juliet in the weird ‘modern’ adaptation.

As we walk up, I realize there’s people waiting to get in but Alex waves us to the front. It’s almost immediate when I spot Lando.

I thought I would at least have time for more drinks before I even got close to him. I don’t know why I'm anxious, maybe it’s because Lando is a sort of fun way to take my mind off things.

I don’t think anything of his costume, he just looks like he’s in gray. But as we get closer, I can see the shift in Lando’s face and when he turns to talk to Alex, I see the armor on his arms.

He’s fucking Romeo.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I’m avoiding him. Simple as that! He tried to say something to me when I arrived but I swerved him and ran after Alexandra.

Someone’s talking to me, I think his name is Liam or something? He’s blonde and dressed like a mouse.

But he’s cute and definitely interested in me.

“Hey!” Lando’s hand goes to Liam’s shoulder, squeezing him tightly, “Pledge! I see you’ve met Y/n.”

Liam’s eyes widen and he scurries away like… well… a mouse. I cross my arms, watching Lando smile as he leaves.

“You’ve been avoiding me, Ace.”

I sip my drink, looking anywhere but him, “No….”

He steps in front of me, way too close, “I like your costume.” His eyes move down my body and I might as well be naked by the way he’s staring at me.

“Yours could use a bit of work, not very accurate.” I lie.

“What, you wanted me to straighten my hair?” I cringe at the idea, “I don’t do well with books, the movie was good.”

I laugh a bit, “You’re a walking stereotype.”

“Oh and you aren’t?” He eyes me, “Nerdy with a big mouth who can’t stop blushing.”

I think about it for a moment and realize he’s right. Lizzie Bennett, Amy Santiago, Hermione granger. Shit why does he know me?

“You’re doing it again.” He pokes my cheek and I know they’re pink, “It’s cute.”

“You’re such a flirt.” He smirks at this, “It’s the jock thing! Is it in your water or something?”

He laughs, taking my hand, “Come dance?” I nod without thinking. He’s still sipping his drink as his hand moves from my hand to my waist.

His touch is soft and he smiles at me under the neon lights. It’s weird that four weeks ago I had all sorts of ideas about him in my head. Now I know him and I sort of love it.

We dance for a while, i’m in a haze of smoke and alcohol when I realize Lando is zoning out.

I touch his arm, leaning closer, “Wanna get some air?” He nods and looks around.

“Come on.” He takes my hand. Lando fucking Norris, grabs my hand and gently guides me through the crowd.

It’s different this time, I don’t know why. But his hand on mine feels more intimate.

He starts walking upstairs and when I pause he looks back, “I have a balcony. Fresh air only, I promise.” I nod and follow, trusting him.

His room is clean, with posters up and multiple photographs hung on the walls. He slides the door open, letting me go first.

I take a deep breath, the cool air washing over me as I lean against the railing, leaning my head back and rebelling in the muffled noise.

I look back up to him, but he’s just staring at me, “You’re beautiful.” It takes me by surprise, like genuine shock runs through me. His eyes widen, almost like he didn’t mean to say that out loud. “I’m-”

“Don’t apologize.” He looks relieved at my words, “Thank you.”

He breathes out, standing next to me, “Thanks for coming. My friend really likes yours- Alexandra, right?”

“Oh!” So that’s why he invited me. “Right, I heard they were hooking up…” He’s acting nervous and fidgety, “Are you okay?”

He nods, “Sorry. I’m kinda drunk and anxious and you’re great but I don’t feel great.” I frown, nodding to walk back inside.

I sit on his bed, pulling off my shoes and crossing my legs. He doesn’t look at me weird, just lays next to me, sighing.

For some reason, he looks so different than the Lando who teased me in a class he snuck into.

Are you really okay, you don’t seem like you’re in the party mood...”

He hums, “I’d rather be up here with you anyways.”

I sigh, “Stop fucking with me.”

He frowns, sitting up a bit, “What?”

“I know we laugh about you being flirty and shit but you’re gonna make me think you like me.” I brush my hair out of my face but I can feel him looking at me.

“Why would I joke about that? I do like you.” Oh.

Oh okay.

So he just drops that fucking bomb then goes into another room to “grab something” ??

I want to slap myself. What the hell is happening.

He walks back in with two waters and a bucket of halloween candy. “You can go back down, by the way.”

“Trying to get rid of me, Norris?” I reach over and grab a twix as he smiles. It makes me feel good that he’s feeling well enough to smile.

“Never, Ace.”

We sit in silence for a bit, eating candy and drinking water like the complete nerds we are. I glance over at him, making sure he’s still awake, “How many girls have you had in this bed?”

He frowns, “You want the real answer?”

“No.” He laughs as I turn to him, crossing my ankles and leaning against the wall, “Why do you call me ace?”

“Why do you think?” When I don’t say anything, he answers hesitatingly, “You went off about your grades and professors liking you. Like you ace everything. And even before that I knew you were smart. But now it’s more because I think you’re pretty close to perfect.”

I think my heart stops. Just then, the look he gives me… like he’s embarrassed or something, “I don’t really know what to say to that.”

“Then don’t say anything.” He lays back down, “What’s your favorite color?” I smile softly as Lando plays with my shoelace.

We sit like this for a while, the party is still in full effect when we get quiet again. I’ve learned about his family, his dreams and school life. I told him about my aspirations, what I've always loved, and what I truly read.

He gets a kick out of the last bit.

He’s feeling better now, I know because his eyes aren’t avoiding me. He’s just looking into my eyes, his are so green and I think I could write an essay about them.

His head knocks against the wall, he’s next to me now, our arms touching as he tilts his head to look at me, “Ace?” He whispers even though it’s just us.

“Hm?”

“I don’t want you to think i’m a slut.”

I smile softly, “I don’t.”

“I want you to like me.”

My heart rate rises, “I do.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Norris. You’re too nosy to believe me anyway.” He laughs at this. Then he gets really quiet.

My eyes flicker to his lips, he does the same. I lean in, so does he. I’m about to close my eyes. He backs away, clearing his throat.

I pull my lips into a thin line, looking away.

And again I think,

What. The. Fuck.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I’m embarrassed to say that my lack of a kiss with Lando last night, was truly humbling. He’s so confusing.

I mean, he said he liked me! And I go to kiss him and then he just doesn’t? After that awkward moment he mumbled something about joining the group and we went back downstairs.

Lando looked incredibly uncomfortable the rest of the night and I found my way to the tequila way too fast.

I march my way up the library stairs, my headache subsiding after the meditation and water. I don’t really remember anything after Lando and I went downstairs.

I’ve been unable to stop thinking about what happened with us, so i’ve come to my happy place.

I breathe in the smell of the books, drifting my hand against the spines of historical fiction. I make my way to shakespeare.

It’s probably not the best right now because all I can think of is how Lando smelled when he took that book from me. I look up, and see Romeo and Juliet staring back at me.

I reach up and take it from its place, opening it and flipping through the pages. I smile at the words that I've come to like after my class.

I’ve never felt such an all consuming love like Juliet, but I think I understand her just a bit more now.

Someone clears their throat and when I look up, i’m not as shocked as I was all those weeks ago.

Lando Norris.

He's in jeans and a plain white tee. Why does he look so good then?

He slips his hands in his pockets, walking towards me, “I’m sorry.”

I raise a brow because I certainly wasn’t expecting that, “For?”

“I wasn’t lying when I said I like you.” he blushes and I want to tease him but he keeps talking, “But I really didn’t feel like myself last night. And I wanted our first kiss to be the sort of thing you could write in detail.”

A small smile meets my lips as he stands in front of me, my back to the shelves, “You’ve thought about kissing me.”

He rolls his eyes but a smile is on his face, he steps closer and his hand goes to my waist, “You are a distraction.” I laugh a bit, looking up at him innocently.

“Whatever do you mean?” He shakes his head and dips it down to be at my level.

“For real this time… Can I kiss you?” I can’t help but smile.

“Only if you compare me to a summer's day and would be willing to die for m-” He cuts me off with his lips.

My arms wrap around his neck, as I kiss him back. I can feel him smile against my lips. My hand goes to his hair, the other gripping the book.

That damn book that started this all.

He bites my lip a bit before moving back, his breath still on me. “I don’t think I've seen true beauty until I saw you in this library.”

[zerocoded]

summary: your estranged grandmother left you exactly one thing in her will: a sprawling luxury apartment in the heart of seoul — the kind of place that could singlehandedly cover your entire college tuition if you ever decided to sell it. now you had a penthouse all to yourself, a pink-tiled kitchen you weirdly adored, and a hopeless, slow-burning crush on the absurdly attractive neighbor who barely looked your way.

authors note: here i am uploading this big ass story when i should be totally studying for my finals next week. well, i can't help but be obsessed with these vampire ahh cuties. stream desire unleashed everybody! it is a good ass album. i changed and this is the second prologue of the story. don't ask me why, but i think this one suits better as a prologue and not a chapter.

warnings and tags: sfw content but suggestive • niki is our bestie and i hope we're ok with that • dark themes such as depression, melancholy, killing • landlord!sunghoon x reader • vampire!sunghoon x collegestudent!reader • gore, mentions of violence and blood • description of violence• HEAVY ANGST • poor attempt at comedy • fluff if you squint • bad writing • reader's dad has cancer • complicated mom and daughter relationship • family drama.

word count: 10.9k (pls someone sedate me)

previous chapters: series masterlist.

you should’ve known this was exactly how your mother would reach out for the first time in seven months — not a call, not a text, not even a passive-aggressive emoji reaction to your instagram story — but a forwarded email from a lawyer with the subject line "regarding the inheritance of han ok-ja's estate."

no context. no greeting. just a pdf attachment and the words: "at least your grandmother left you something useful. don’t waste it."

that was it.

your mother, ever the poet.

and by good thing, of course, she meant a multi-million won apartment unit in seoul’s most absurdly exclusive building — a place you’d only ever seen from a bus window once during a high school trip, the kind of place you thought only politicians and pop idols lived in.

you hadn’t even known your grandmother owned an apartment in the city. hell, you hadn’t known she was still alive until she wasn’t anymore.

but that was the han family legacy, wasn’t it? generational silence, weaponized inheritance, and the occasional real estate windfall.

you grew up in boseong — land of green tea fields, gossiping neighbors, and a high school with a graduation rate that would make your seoul classmates flinch. your entire life had unfolded in two rooms above a butcher shop, where the ceiling leaked every spring and the walls knew too much about your parents’ divorce.

turns out college plans were ruined when you were only 12 and discovered your father had cancer — stage 3 colon cancer, to be exact.

you remember the way your mom said it like she was announcing a sale at the grocery store. no softness, no warning. just facts over kimchi stew. your dad, on the other hand, had tried to smile through it, like he was the one who should be comforting you.

you kind of always thought you would forever be taking care of him in boseong. after your parents’ divorce — at thirteen —, you knew no one else would be on your father’s side to fight cancer, so you only imagined that would be your legacy forever. no big dreams, no neon skylines, no designer buildings with their own saunas and private libraries. just him, you, and the rice cooker that only half-worked in the winter.

he was your best friend. he let you paint his nails when you were five and cried with you when your hamster died. he showed you how to ride a bike, how to swear in three different dialects, and how to make the best damn doenjang jjigae in the province. you would’ve done anything for him. and you did. you sacrificed your future before it even had a chance to form. quietly, without question. like it was just part of being alive — giving up everything for someone you loved.

and for years, he let you. even when the chemo worked, even when he got stronger, even when the worst passed and the only thing left was exhaustion and silence and the scent of hand sanitizer still soaked into the kitchen tiles — he let you stay.

but then you graduated high school, and he started asking. don’t you want to go? aren’t you curious about life beyond the fields? you’re too smart to stay here forever.

and by “smart” he meant that you had great communication skills and were part of the very small chess community of boseong — it consisted only of you and two old ladies.

you pretended not to hear him sometimes. because the truth was, you didn’t want to leave. not him. not your routine. not the only person who made life feel even slightly manageable.

it wasn’t until your mother’s email — short, cold, weaponized — that everything shifted. she hadn’t even mentioned the death, just the logistics. how your grandma died three months ago. how your mother and her brothers were waiting for legally open her will, how some of them took advantage, how they fought. and still, she had left something for you. her only granddaughter. 

and when you told your dad, expecting him to scoff or curse or at least roll his eyes, he’d only smiled. that soft, sad smile that meant he’d been waiting for this moment longer than you had.

“go,” he said. “your life isn’t here. it never was.”

at first, you fought. seoul was never your main goal, you never dreamed of getting out of boseong and going to college. you were content with your two part time jobs at the local bar and at the grocery store. you always had good grades in school, good relationship with your neighbors and a great money reserve. 

so you told him that you would never leave him and that you were content with your ok life in boseong. 

but one night you got weak and searched about college applications just right after your shift. you could say the curiosity got the best out of you, and there you were perching in your bed with your laptop in hands in your dirty waitress uniform and greasy hair. at first, you really didn’t found anything interesting, until you decided to search up the address of the building your mother sent you.

you were surprised, to say the least. and for someone who shared the same bathroom with your own father for 10 years and cleaned tables as a way of living, your temptation to got to seoul changed a bit after that.

on the same night, your father told you to go. to let him go. let boseong go and live a life. 

your life.

you talked to him all night, telling him about how you felt about studying topics you never heard of and living in a too spacious environment when all you have ever wanted was to take care of his sickness. he cursed at you so many times that night about your stupidity that you felt obligated to go and get a life beyond the fields.

so you packed. and cried. and pretended you weren’t terrified of being alone for the first time in your life. you moved into a stranger’s home — one who just happened to share your blood — in a building that felt like a five-star hotel married a haunted mansion.

seonghyeon jaega.

a building that at first made you feel too small, too out of place — all clean marble floors and echoing hallways and neighbors who looked like they’d stepped out of a luxury catalog. the hundreds of pictures of the place on the internet couldn’t get close to how the building was terrifyingly aesthetic inside and out.

and when you said terrifying, you meant it. 

the lobby alone had three chandeliers, a grand piano that no one touched and a concierge desk staffed by a man who looked like he hadn’t blinked since 2003. the elevator played classical music, but not in a comforting way — in a this-is-the-last-song-you-hear-before-disappearing kind of way. there was a koi pond in the library for no reason at all, a fully operational greenhouse on the rooftop that smelled like lavender and secrets. the gym was nicer than most hospitals. the sauna had eucalyptus-infused steam and, somehow, free chilled grapes. and you swore one of the mirrors in the hallway moved half an inch every time you looked away. luxurious, yes. but also deeply cursed. like a rich aunt who only gives you money if you promise not to ask what’s in the basement.

you were so scared your first night here that you called your dad before even unpacking, crouched on the pristine floor of the guest bathroom because it was the only place that didn’t echo like a murder documentary reenactment. he didn’t know how to work his phone most of the time — had once accidentally live-streamed himself peeling an orange for nine minutes — but somehow, that night, he figured it out. he stayed on the line with you until you fell asleep, whispering his arsenal of stupid dad jokes like it was a bedtime ritual.

“what’s a vampire’s favorite fruit?” he asked, barely holding in his own laughter. “a blood orange, obviously.”

you groaned. he continued. “why did the skeleton break up with the ghost? … because he could see right through her.”

“dad,” you warned.

“okay, okay, serious one. what’s dracula’s least favorite dentist?”

 “dad—”

 “you. because you’d stake him for his plaque.”

somewhere between his third and twelfth pun, you stopped noticing how unfamiliar the apartment smelled or how quiet the building had become after sunset. it was just his voice in your ear, warm and ridiculous, reminding you who you were when everything else felt too big, too expensive, too not-you.

he kept talking even after you stopped answering, just in case you were pretending to sleep but still needed to hear him. he told you a story about the time he got kicked out of a supermarket for trying to haggle over cabbages, then promised to teach you how to cook galbijjim in an electric pressure cooker “once you stop being a fancy city girl.”

he called you that — fancy city girl — like it was both an insult and a title you’d earned.

and eventually, in that bathroom that smelled like foreign air freshener and existential dread, you fell asleep to the sound of his voice calling you brave in between bad puns about ghosts with dental insurance.

you hated every second of your sleep that night until you started decorating the next morning. with unpacked bags, you left your clothes in a sad little pile of indecision and focused on the real priority: comfort. not survival comfort — emotional comfort. aesthetic comfort. petty, personal, i-will-make-this-haunted-barbie-dream-my-home kind of comfort.

you didn’t have much, but what you did have mattered. mismatched frames, old polaroids, that ugly rug your dad swore was a “family heirloom” (you were 90% sure it was from a garage sale in 2007), your chipped mug with the cartoon bear that looked perpetually anxious — each item slowly carved a space for you inside all the clean, terrifying luxury.

and then there was the kitchen. the pink-tiled kitchen.

you’d thought it was a visual hallucination at first. a fever dream from sleeping on marble and grief. but no — it was real. baby pink tiles from floor to ceiling, gold handles on every drawer, and a retro mint-green fridge that looked like it belonged in a movie about a rich housewife who poisons her husband with artisanal arsenic.

the oven was smarter than you. the faucet lit up in LED colors when you turned it. there was a built-in coffee machine you accidentally worshipped for three full minutes before realizing it also made espresso martinis.

you’d never had your own kitchen before. not really. in boseong, the stove had to be turned on with a butter knife and a prayer, and your dad’s idea of spice organization was “vaguely the same shelf.”

but here, in this edible-looking kitchen that screamed chaotic heiress with secrets, you felt something shift. you didn’t belong here — not even close — but you could pretend. you could make it yours.

starting with the bear mug. front and center. because if the ghosts were going to haunt you, they were going to have to look at his anxious little face first.

you didn’t know much about your grandmother — except that she hated your dad, apparently tolerated your mom, and once sent you a birthday card with your name spelled wrong and five thousand won tucked inside like a truce. growing up, she was more ghost story than family member. the kind of woman who existed only in bitter phone calls and family reunions no one ever enjoyed.

so the fact that this pink kitchen — this frosted, weaponized femininity — had belonged to her was confusing at best and mildly horrifying at worst. did she choose this aesthetic? were the gold swan-shaped drawer pulls intentional? did she wake up one day and think, “yes, i want my home to look like a macaron opened a credit line”?  and if so — who the hell was han ok-ja, really?

you were still staring at the gold-rimmed stovetop on your second night here, trying to decide if it made you feel rich or nauseous, when you heard it.

voices.

the first sound of life outside your apartment since moving in — and not the unsettling creak of old pipes or elevator music that sounded suspiciously like a dirge. actual human voices.

you froze, mug in hand, heart thudding like you were the one trespassing.

you crept toward the door and peeked through the peephole like a responsible citizen-slash-nosey neighbor. and there they were: two of them.

two men.

not delivery drivers. not maintenance workers. not the faceless ghosts you’d imagined floated through these halls at night. these guys looked like they’d walked off a K-drama set about billionaire assassins. tall, sharply dressed, effortlessly serious. one had that slicked-back hair that screamed “i own three nightclubs and a moral dilemma,” and the other looked like he could command a room without saying a word. they spoke low and fast — something about “containment” and “asking jake later” — before disappearing around the corner like this was all completely normal.

you didn’t breathe until the hallway was empty again. and even then, only because your bear mug was fogging up the peephole.

you didn’t know who they were. hell, you didn’t know anyone here. the one person who’d helped you move in was the doorman with serial killer energy and an unsettlingly strong grip — and even he disappeared the second your last box was through the door, like helping you was part of some cursed blood oath he had to fulfill.

your college classmates weren’t much better. your entire winter prep course so far had consisted of awkward breakout rooms, muted mics, and staring at floating letters in google classroom. no faces. just ominous little circles with initials like “K” and “Y,” as if you were being haunted by the world’s most boring ghost cult.

so yeah. no friends. no neighbors. no idea if anyone in this building was even real. and you were introduced to the concept of “other residents” in the most dramatic way possible — via hallway mafia cosplay and mysterious murmurs about something that definitely did not sound legal.

you did what any mentally stable person would do: took a shower. hot water. calm nerves. fake a sense of control.

four minutes in — conditioner still in your hair, face mid-existential crisis — the doorbell rang.

you stood there frozen, water dripping down your back, just staring at the tiled wall like maybe you’d imagined it. maybe the building was playing tricks. wouldn’t be the weirdest thing.

but it rang again. twice this time. like whoever it was had the audacity to be persistent.

so you grabbed a towel, cursed under your breath, and padded across the marble floor like the world's angriest wet ghost.

and when you opened the door —

sunghoon.

you didn’t know his name at the time. you only knew he looked like someone who didn’t need names. the kind of face that belonged on perfume billboards and moody vampire dramas. sharp jaw, colder eyes, all cheekbones and contempt. holding your mail like it had personally offended him.

“your delivery,” he’d said.

two words. no emotion. no explanation. just a stack of envelopes addressed to han ok-ja and a stare that nearly short-circuited your brain.

you stammered. tried to say thank you. dropped your conditioner on the floor like a dramatic prop.

he didn’t flinch. didn’t blink. just placed the mail in your hands and turned around, disappearing down the hallway like a final boss retreating after a tutorial level.

you shut the door and immediately collapsed against it, half-naked, half-mortified, fully confused.

you told yourself it was just a fluke encounter. he probably didn’t even live on your floor. maybe he was visiting. maybe you hallucinated the whole thing and the envelopes were cursed.

but then you started hearing more voices in the next day. always calm, always composed — unnervingly so, like they were narrating a documentary or conducting a negotiation instead of, you know, talking like regular people. they were different voices, too. distinct. male. low. not loud enough to catch the words, just the rhythm. steady. practiced. like they knew someone might be listening.

they came from the only other apartment on your floor — the one directly across from yours, the only other unit tucked into this absurdly private corridor. at first, you thought it was just the acoustics messing with you, echoing from the floors above or below. but no. the timing was too perfect. the pauses too measured.

so you pieced it together: those voices, the ones that made your skin prickle and your heartbeat speed up for no logical reason, belonged to your neighbors.

whoever they were. whoever he was.

so, naturally, you started stalking him.

you called it “gathering intel,” but really it was just you loitering in the hallway and pretending to take out the trash three times a day. you even got fake-lost once, wandering to the rooftop and pretending to marvel at the view — only to find him elbow-deep in a planter box in the greenhouse.

you tried to play it cool. like you just happened to stumble upon this botanical mysteryland by accident. he didn’t buy it. you knew because he didn’t say a word. just looked at you, one eyebrow raised, dirt on his hands, like really?

and yes, really — you made yourself a fool. not even the endearing kind. the talks-to-flowers-to-fill-the-silence-while-your-hot-neighbor-ignores-you kind.

you replayed every second of that encounter at least seventy-two times on your walk back to the apartment.

you, standing like a lost sims character in his private garden. 

you, talking about hydrangeas like they personally offended you. 

you, saying “are you deaf?” to a man who could probably hear a moth sneeze through a concrete wall.

he’d told you his name. sunghoon. 

no last name. no polite small talk. just sunghoon — like it should’ve been obvious, like he assumed his name carried weight in ways you were too human to understand. and maybe it did. maybe that was why it stuck with you so easily.

after that, you told yourself you’d avoid him. let the awkwardness fade, let time cover the whole thing in dust like everything else in this building.

but curiosity’s a bitch.

and so were you, apparently, because you started noticing things.

all the other residents vanished during the day — ghost cars coming and going at strange hours, silent hallways, apartments that never flickered with light. seonghyeon was supposed to be the pinnacle of luxury, and yet sometimes it felt like a very expensive haunted house. a place for the rich and restless to disappear.

but his apartment — the penthouse — that one was never truly still.

the door was always closed, always locked, always giving you shall not pass energy. but something about it pulsed with life.

sometimes, if you stood still in the stairwell long enough (not that you did that on purpose), you could hear it — laughter. deep voices. music, faint and classical one day, low and thumping the next. the clink of glass against glass. sometimes even footsteps pacing, like someone arguing with the walls.

and they weren’t ghost sounds. they weren’t echoes. they were unmistakably human.

which confused the hell out of you.

sunghoon didn’t seem like the hosting type. he didn’t seem like the talking type, honestly. and yet… those voices.

you tried to rationalize it. maybe he had roommates. maybe he had a large, weirdly formal family. maybe he was running a strangely attractive cult and no one had noticed because they were all too hot to question anything.

you figured those two men from your second day here — the ones who looked like they belonged in a noir film or an underworld fashion spread — lived there too. the timing made too much sense. the way they moved, too — like the building was theirs.

and that made everything worse.

because, really — why were hot men living together in a penthouse?

not just hot. alarmingly hot. HD-ready, slow-motion-walk-through-the-smoke hot.

either they were in a boyband you’d never heard of, or something weird was going on. and the more you thought about it, the less it felt like a fantasy and the more it felt like the start of an expensive psychological thriller.

you’d moved here thinking the biggest threat was going to be loneliness. 

now you weren’t so sure.

between the mysterious roommates, the suspiciously symmetrical garden, and the fact that your neighbor might be the living embodiment of a victorian fever dream — things had shifted. subtly. quietly. but still.

which brings you to the present.

two weeks in. january air pressing sharp against your windows. your heating system suspiciously temperamental. your prep course schedule eating your sanity one unread syllabus at a time.

it was friday — the day after the greenhouse incident. or, as you now lovingly referred to it in your mind: the day you decided to mortify yourself in front of a hot cryptid.

you were doing your absolute best to pretend like it never happened. which was hard, considering the mental reruns your brain insisted on playing every time you so much as walked past a plant.

also, the silence. the kind of silence that felt too big, even for a place this large.

you missed your dad.

you missed the way he knocked on your door every morning even when you weren’t home. you missed how the house always smelled like burnt rice or old coffee.

here, everything smelled like luxury cleaning products and echoes.

you still didn’t know how to use the guest room bathtub.

you still hadn’t figured out which switch turned on the weird chandelier in the hallway.

you were still trying to remember what it felt like to not be new all the time.

which meant: staying indoors, drinking your weight in instant coffee, and trying to finish your college assignment like a normal, functioning member of society.

outside, seoul was a frozen postcard — january at its peak, all gray skies and the kind of wind that made your building moan like it was haunted (which, honestly, wasn’t out of the question). inside, you were wrapped in a giant hoodie, sitting cross-legged on your overpriced sofa, staring at a half-finished document titled “attachment styles and their long-term impact on adult relationships.”

it was due in four days. you’d written seven words. two of them were your name.

“jesus,” you muttered, dragging a hand down your face as your laptop fan whined like it too wanted to give up.

your textbook lay open beside you, unread. you kept glancing at the clock, at your phone, at the kitchen — literally anywhere that wasn’t your word doc.

you’d already cleaned the counters. twice. rearranged the spice rack. googled “can someone have both avoidant and anxious attachment or am i just doomed.”

now you were debating whether “take a nap” qualified as productive.

and yet, no matter how hard you tried to focus, your brain kept looping back to one very specific visual: sunghoon. crouched in the dirt. sleeves rolled. that voice. those hands.

you groaned, flopping backwards like gravity owed you a favor.

this was a nightmare. or a romcom. except instead of falling in love you were just… spiraling. academically. emotionally. thermally, because your heater was already acting up again.

it was the end of your second week in seoul.

your father had called that morning, asking how you were adapting to the city’s temperature.

you hadn’t had the heart to say that you missed his jokes the most, that you felt embarrassingly late starting a winter prep course at twenty-three, and that you hadn’t made a single friend over winter break because you were too busy staying inside.

not studying. not exploring. just… existing.

you told him everything was fine. you laughed at his dumb pun about kimchi being your emotional support food. you pretended the loneliness didn’t cling to you like an oversized coat you couldn’t quite shake off.

you were about to post a photo of your aggressively pink mug sitting next to your aggressively pink kettle when the doorbell rang.

you paused.

not because doorbells were inherently threatening — but because in seonghyeon jaega, they kind of were. no one visited. not without warning. not without coded texts or concierge calls. your mail came through a steel chute. your food deliveries were dropped two floors down. you didn’t even think your bell worked.

so when it rang — sharp and alive — you froze mid-caption, thumb hovering over the word “aesthetic.”

you stood, barefoot and confused, tiptoeing toward the door like a raccoon at risk. peeked through the peephole. blinked.

hoodie. messy hair. that grin.

niki.

leaning against your doorframe like this was a tuesday rerun in a life he was half-bored of. black sweatshirt slouched at the collar, sleeves pushed up like he’d been working on something — or pretending to. his hair was slightly damp. maybe from rain. maybe from chaos. you wouldn’t put it past him to casually rinse his face and show up with a weather update like he controlled the forecast.

“hey,” he said, voice low, almost sheepish. “sorry for the drop-in. weird question—do you have a printer?”

you blinked. “a what?”

“a printer.” he gestured vaguely toward your apartment like this was a very normal thing to ask. “ours died. jake forgot to refill the toner and now it sounds like it’s dying. i have to print something for heeseung before he comes home and murders me with passive aggression.”

he smiled like this was cute. like you were both in on some inside joke. you weren’t.

“you don’t have a backup?”

“we have centuries of accumulated wisdom,” he said, solemn, “and apparently none of it includes printer maintenance.”

you raised an eyebrow. leaned a little against the doorframe.

niki didn’t falter. just tilted his head slightly. “look, if you say no, i’ll totally respect that and probably cry myself to sleep. but if you say yes, i’ll owe you a lifelong debt. possibly cookies. maybe foot massages. depends on the mood.”

you were already tired. the heater in your bedroom still made weird clicking sounds. your period was trying to kill you. and now your possibly-weird, definitely-too-handsome neighbor was flirting his way into your apartment with printer lies.

you should’ve said no.

you didn’t.

“i swear to god,” you muttered, stepping aside.

niki grinned like he’d just won the lottery. “this is why i like you.”

“you don’t even know me.”

“sure i do,” he said, walking in like he’d been invited. “banana bread last week? tragic gym attempt? neon pink slippers with sad cat faces? i know your whole arc.”

“oh my god.”

“you’re adorable. and weird. but mostly adorable.”

you nearly threw your mug at him. instead, you pointed to the corner of the room, where your sad little printer sat beside a stack of tangled cords and empty ramen cups.

“be my guest. if it explodes, i’m blaming you.”

“i accept all legal responsibility,” he said solemnly, already crouching like he’d lived here for months. “also. you owe me. i fixed your heater.”

“you unplugged it and plugged it back in.”

“and it worked.”

you opened your mouth. closed it again.

because he was right.

and maybe — just maybe — he wasn’t the worst neighbor you’d ever had.

somehow, niki was the only neighbor who actually talked to you. he sometimes sounded oddly flirty, in that way that made you question if he was joking or just naturally like that, but still — he was the only constant you’d had all week.

like that first night in the elevator.

you’d gone out to take the trash in your sad-girl uniform (read: mismatched socks, your dad’s hoodie, and the kind of messy bun that was less “carefree” and more “actively falling apart”).

the elevator doors opened and there he was. leaning against the mirrored wall like the ride was a runway.

he looked at you, at your tragic ensemble, and without missing a beat said, “rough night or bold fashion statement?”

you almost dropped the trash bag.

then there was the gym.

which, in your defense, you thought would be empty at noon on a tuesday.

you walked in ready to attempt some kind of fake cardio — only to find niki mid-rep, shirtless, earbuds in, glistening with the kind of sweat that looked like it came with a lighting crew.

you stood frozen like you'd just walked in on a pagan ritual.

he noticed you instantly — of course he did — and pulled out one earbud with a grin.

“didn’t take you for a gym rat,” he said, not even out of breath. “what’s your workout plan? anxiety and instant noodles?”

you left seven minutes later, sweating from embarrassment.

another time, you tried to sneak out for a night walk — hoodie on, playlist blasting, full stealth mode — only for the lobby door to swing open and reveal niki… balancing a tray of banana milk, three convenience store bento boxes, and what appeared to be a single lemon.

he blinked at you.

you blinked back.

“don’t judge me,” he said, as if you were the one caught mid-snack run with a lemon like it owed him money.

you weren’t sure if he was teasing you or had the personality of a teen movie star.

but either way, he was a puzzle you couldn’t quite solve — half charming, half cryptic, entirely unpredictable.

and now he was standing at your door, asking for a printer, like that made perfect sense.

niki’s company wasn’t uninvited, just oddly strategic sometimes, like he’s been waiting for tou to open your apartment door for him to leave his. 

not that you two were friends, exactly. but he made you feel comfortable — or at the very least, not like you were one bad decision away from becoming a true crime podcast episode. he seemed decent. normal-ish. like someone who held doors open and actually texted back.

so maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to give him a chance. you guys already had a decent amount of stupid hangouts. maybe he could be your friend in this giant, freezing city. maybe you wouldn’t have to do this whole alone-in-seoul thing completely alone.

“so,” you said, arms crossed as you leaned against the kitchen counter. “what are you printing that’s so life or death?”

niki didn’t even glance up. just crouched in front of your printer like it was an ancient artifact and he was the chosen one. “building schematics.”

“schematics,” you repeated slowly, squinting like that would help. “for, like… a building?”

“yeah. stuff heeseung asked for.”

you blinked. tilted your head slightly. “okay, wait. which one is heeseung again?”

niki’s head snapped toward you so fast it was almost dramatic. “wow. wow.” he looked personally offended, like you’d insulted the honor of his bloodline. “you’ve lived here for two weeks and you still don’t know our names?”

you shrugged one shoulder. your socked foot nudged the cabinet behind you. “should i?”

he leaned back on his heels, hand over his heart like he’d been struck by lightning. “unbelievable. and here i thought we had something special.”

you rolled your eyes, but your mouth twitched. “you literally showed up at my door because your printer broke.”

“and you let me in,” he countered, pointing a finger at you like that settled the case. “which means something.”

“uh-huh.”

niki turned back to the printer, humming as he clicked through the settings. too casual. too smooth. like this was his third printer mission of the week and your apartment was just part of the route. “anyway. heeseung. red hair, tall, stares like he’s reading your thoughts. very expensive skincare routine. kind of terrifying if you don’t know he listens to city pop while painting model trains.”

you blinked again. processed. “he dyed his hair red?”

“see?” niki shot you a scandalized look. “this is how i know you only remember my name. scandalous.”

you opened your mouth to argue. closed it again. because… fair. kind of. he wasn’t wrong, exactly. your brain had definitely slotted everyone else under vague descriptors like “hot one,” “scary one,” and “probably legally dead but still pays rent.”

niki, unfortunately, was “the one who made you laugh when you were trying not to.”

“it’s okay,” he said, grinning wider now. “i get it. i’m memorable.”

“you sound like we’re actually friends,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes. “which we’re not, by the way. i barely know you. and i barely see your friends — they’re like never here. or they vanish when i’m around. which makes you suspicious, you know that? because the only one i always see is you.”

niki didn’t flinch. didn’t even pretend to be offended. just kept fiddling with the printer tray like you hadn’t just accused him of being a walking cult recruiter.

“of course i’m the only one you see,” he said easily. “i’m the most charming. obviously.”

you opened your mouth — probably to insult him, definitely to point out he was insufferable — but before you could fire back, the printer let out a high-pitched whirr and came to life.

niki looked way too pleased, like he’d personally reanimated a corpse. “and voilà,” he announced proudly, as the first page slid out. “proof that i am both useful and handsome.”

you stared. “wow. incredible. now take your stuff and go.”

but of course he didn’t.

niki — who apparently had zero sense of personal space or social cues — didn’t grab his papers and bolt. instead, he wandered away from the printer like a man surveying a summer home, casually inspecting your space like it was a showroom.

you didn’t stop him.

you told yourself it was because you were too tired. but maybe, just maybe, you didn’t hate the company.

your arms uncrossed as he ambled toward your couch, his hoodie sleeves bunching near the elbows, hands still holding that fake-offended air like it was part of his wardrobe. you leaned a little harder into the counter, feeling the cool granite bite into your hip, grounding yourself.

this was not how you planned to spend your evening. you had ramen in the microwave. a half-finished essay waiting on your laptop. an outfit that could only be described as “please don’t perceive me.”

but here he was.

niki.

too much charm. too much hair. too many secrets you weren’t sure you wanted answers to.

and for some reason, he felt... safe.

chaotic, yes. deeply questionable. likely to ruin your sleep schedule.

but safe.

you sighed. he grinned.

this, apparently, was your night now.

“nice place,” he said, eyes scanning your living room like a bored art critic. he wandered toward the corner where your only plant sat — half-wilted, probably dying, but still somehow upright. he crouched beside it, poked a finger at the soil, and raised an eyebrow.

“what’s this one’s name? depression?”

you didn’t even look up from your cup of tea. “that’s literally a peace lily.”

he tilted his head, deadpan. “ironic.”

before you could respond, he flopped onto your couch like it owed him money. limbs everywhere. hoodie pulled up to his wrists. sneakers still on. your throw blanket bunched under his thigh like an afterthought.

“is this real leather or vegan sadness?” he asked, patting the cushion beneath him.

“niki—”

“oh,” he perked up, already reaching. “are these cookies?”

you lunged forward from the kitchen. “those are mine! you can’t just— you’re not even invited!”

“i was invited by the owner,” he said smoothly, already chewing, crumbs on his hoodie. “and also, by the universal law of ‘i fixed your heater.’”

you stared at him in disbelief. “that is not— that’s not how anything works!”

he made himself even more comfortable — which, given the way he stretched out across your furniture like a cat in a sunbeam, should’ve been physically impossible. one arm thrown over the back of the couch. the other still clutching the cookie like it was a trophy.

“this is nice,” he said, entirely too relaxed. “i feel very welcomed.”

you folded your arms. stared. sighed. “you’re a menace.”

he glanced at you, eyes glinting. “a charming one.”

“i should start charging rent.”

niki grinned like you’d just paid him a compliment. “sure. just add it to the list of things you pretend you don’t want from me.”

your brain stalled for half a second.

then you grabbed the nearest throw pillow and hurled it at his face.

he caught it midair — barely — then smirked. leaned forward like the entire apartment was his stage. “just doing my neighborly due diligence.”

you made a show of rolling your eyes, but your cheeks felt warm. it wasn’t fair — he said everything with that same tone. playful. borderline cocky. but never cruel.

“do you talk like this with all the other residents?” you asked, mostly to keep him from reading too much into the way your voice dipped a little softer.

“only the pretty ones who lend me banana bread and let me into their apartment without asking questions.”

you blinked. stood very still.

he didn’t flinch.

you opened your mouth. closed it again. reached for your tea like it could help.

“you’re lucky my pepper spray’s buried in my tote bag,” you muttered.

“you’re lucky i’m charming enough to take that risk.”

you shook your head, fighting a smile that was halfway there already.

a few more pages printed in the background. niki didn’t seem to notice — or maybe he did, and just didn’t care. the air between you softened slightly. not tense. not flirty, exactly. but... familiar.

like maybe this wasn’t the first time he’d ended up on a stranger’s couch.

and maybe you didn’t mind as much as you should.

“met any of the other neighbors yet?” he asked, casually sprawled across your very recently cleaned sofa like it was his birthright. shoes still on. hoodie riding up slightly at the waist. 

you sighed. apparently, this was your night now — your other cute neighbor (not the one you kind of maybe occasionally imagined kissing in a greenhouse, but still cute in that devil-may-care way) had decided to turn your living room into his own private lounge.

you dropped into the only other chair — the one beside the shelf where a TV should’ve been, if you could afford anything other than groceries and tuition. ramen was your closest friend these days. the only reason you hadn’t withered away was sheer spite.

you glanced at niki, who looked deeply unbothered by your existential student crisis, and answered, “not unless you count the old woman on the third floor who yells at the mailman in jeolla dialect. i think she has a shrine to her cat in the stairwell.”

he laughed, warm and easy. “ah, mrs. cho. the patron saint of passive aggression.”

you grinned despite yourself. “and then there’s the guy with the black porsche. not korean. definitely not even asian. i swear to god i’ve seen him in a movie before.”

niki lifted a brow. “short? built like a villain? always wears sunglasses indoors?”

“yes!”

“that’s theo.”

you blinked. “you know him?”

“he owes me two shirts and a very expensive wine opener,” niki said, as if that explained everything.

you stared at him. “so you hang out with western celebrities but still have to print schematics on your neighbor’s barely-functioning printer?”

he gave a long-suffering sigh. “i’m humble like that.”

you gave him a skeptical look. “right. and what’s the deal, then? why is this building full of ghosts and runway models? from what my grandmother told me, i thought this was going to be filled with retired professors and rich ajummas named eun-sook with bichons in pearls.”

niki’s grin widened — that foxlike, too-sharp one that always made you feel like he was six steps ahead in a conversation you didn’t know you were having.

“maybe you’re just circulating in different areas,” he said breezily. “you haven’t met mr. park yet. lives on the tenth floor. made his fortune directing very adult films in the seventies. talks to his plants. wears velvet robes. honestly? king behavior.”

you blinked. “…he’s real?”

“realer than my GPA,” niki said solemnly.

you stared at him. “what are you, then? the building’s unofficial tour guide?”

“resident heartthrob,” he replied without hesitation. “printer technician. heater fixer. emotional support neighbor.”

you narrowed your eyes. “you’re impossible to age. your face screams ‘freshman orientation,’ but you talk like someone who’s been divorced twice and got revenge both times.”

niki leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand. “i’m twenty-two.”

the way he said it — soft, unbothered, with the slightest glint of mischief — made your brain short-circuit. it was too clean. too polished. like he’d practiced it.

you stared a second too long. “…sure you are.”

he raised an eyebrow. “what, you don’t believe me?”

“i believe someone is twenty-two,” you muttered. “i’m just not convinced it’s you.”

he laughed. easy. like it didn’t matter either way.

you, on the other hand, were very aware that you’d been running on caffeine, anxiety, and precisely one cookie all day. your stomach made a small, pitiful noise — like it was mourning your last real meal.

niki’s print job was finally done. but instead of collecting his papers and leaving like a normal person, he floated back to the couch like he lived here. he flopped down again, one leg tucked under the other, as if this was his regular friday night routine — lounging in your furniture while you silently debated crying over your student loans.

“do your roommates also pretend to live here,” you asked, “or is that just your thing?”

niki hummed lazily, shifting again as the cushions dipped beneath his weight. “depends. jungwon’s usually busy running the world, sunoo only leaves for beauty products, jay’s emotionally allergic to sunlight, and heeseung…” a pause. “well, heeseung’s redecorating his room again. new hair, new furniture. guy’s going through his third identity arc this year.”

you blinked. twice. “he really dyed it red?”

“like full villain arc. he stood in front of the mirror for two hours yesterday practicing his ‘you dare betray me’ face.”

you laughed — surprised by the sound of it, warm and real in your own apartment, like it had been waiting in your chest for a week and finally broke free.

“i should’ve picked him to develop a weird crush on.”

the silence that followed wasn’t loud, but it hit like a dropped pin in an empty room. niki looked at you. really looked. a slow turn of the head. a raised brow. a grin, wide and merciless.

you realized, too late.

your heart dropped with the weight of your own stupidity.

did you just… admit that? out loud?

a crush.

on his roommate.

his roommate, who you’d spoken to exactly once. who had not smiled at you. who looked like he’d been sculpted by victorian grief and dressed by vogue. his roommate who — unfortunately — probably heard everything you’d just said. through niki. or the walls. or sheer karmic spite.

your blood turned to static.

and niki, of course, said nothing for a second. he just smiled like the universe had finally handed him the plot twist he’d been waiting for.

“you are very unique, you know that, right?” he said at last — and for once, his voice didn’t carry a joke. not fully. it was soft. curious. and it made your skin heat in a way that had nothing to do with embarrassment.

you tried to recover. you really did. you raised your eyebrow like you weren’t seconds away from combusting. “so you were the girl sunghoon-hyung was muttering about all morning. i thought i was going crazy.”

pause.

what?

you blinked. again.

“what?”

niki just stared back at you, like you’d missed something obvious. like he hadn’t just set your brain on fire.

“sunghoon,” he repeated. “pale skin, cute moles, nice fashion sense. he was relentless this morning. a lot, actually. and he doesn’t do that. ever. not unless something’s bothering him.”

your mouth opened. then closed. your heart had gone rogue — hammering now, like it couldn’t decide if it was excited or preparing for a cardiac arrest.

“and you… came here to print. not to spy. right?”

niki gave you a look so flat, so unimpressed, that it was almost comforting. “i came here to confirm a theory,” he said, waving one of the printed pages like it was proof. “the printing was just an excuse. i don’t actually care about heeseung’s floor plans. the guy’s redecorating again — it’s like watching a pinterest board have a breakdown.”

you stared at him like he’d grown another head. “so you think… sunghoon’s spiraling? and you came here to see if i was the reason?”

he tilted his head. thoughtful. “he didn’t go out with the rest of us today. jay’s out. jungwon too. even jake finally left the building. which means whatever got him all twisted up happened here.”

you tried to process. tried to piece together the chain of cause and effect that somehow led to you being the root of sunghoon’s existential turmoil. it didn’t track. it didn’t make sense.

“so i asked myself: what changed yesterday?” niki went on, pacing now, gesturing around your apartment like this was a true crime scene. “and then i remembered our neighbor. who decided to play dumb in his private greenhouse.”

you groaned, dragging a hand over your face. “i didn’t decide anything. i got lost.”

niki arched an eyebrow, eyes gleaming. “sure.”

“i thought he was going to throw a rake at me.”

“nope. just internalized it and started spiraling like a man in a period drama.” he leaned in then, elbows on knees, expression alight with amusement. “which, honestly, is kind of flattering. he usually skips the spiraling and goes straight to brooding.”

you dropped your head into your hands, completely mortified. “i’m going to die. i’m going to be haunted by this for the rest of my life. tell no one.”

“too late,” he said. “i’m emotionally invested now. this is my entertainment.”

you groaned again, hands still pressed over your face. “and—how do you even know? don’t tell me he’s the type to talk shit about women around his guy friends. please.”

niki scoffed. “sunghoon-hyung? no. he doesn’t talk bad about women. he doesn’t talk about women. or people. or, like, at all most days. that’s why when he started pacing the kitchen and cleaning the already cleaned counter like he was trying to hex himself, i paid attention.”

you peeked through your fingers. he looked serious. calm. like he was just stating facts.

“it wasn’t mean,” he added, voice quieter now. “just... restless. confused. like you short-circuited something in him and he couldn’t figure out why.”

your head thunked back against the chair. “so i’m haunting him.”

“you’re interesting,” he corrected.

you sat up, arms crossed. “okay. fine. i admit it. he got my attention on the first day. but i didn’t know anything about him, so i went up there to check. just... to see.”

niki’s grin returned. smug. knowing. “and?”

“and i made a fool out of myself,” you muttered. “i insulted his hydrangeas. i accused him of spray-painting flowers. i basically loitered in his personal sanctuary like some floral cryptid. it was a disaster.”

“a disaster he’s still thinking about, apparently.”

you stared at him. “get out of my apartment.”

“rude. but fair.”

you waved your hand like a white flag. “he’s probably trying to figure out how to get me evicted. he looked very not thrilled to see someone new, now that i think about it.”

niki just raised his brows.

“actually,” you added, like your mouth had given up on logic, “he’s so fine it’s probably safer for me to just move back to boseong. honestly. for my health. for public safety. i might actually die if i see him again.”

niki blinked. once. then: “you’re unwell.”

“you started it.”

“and i regret nothing,” he said, beaming. “please spiral more. i’ll bring popcorn next time.”

you groaned into the chair arm. “the guy i found cute is exposing my terrible flirting techniques with his roommates.”

niki casually flipped one of the printer pages. “nah. sunghoon-hyung would probably just water your ghost like a houseplant.”

no words. no strength.

“okay, maybe i am crazy,” you mumbled. “i’m having a mental crisis over a neighbor i barely know and who doesn’t even know my name.”

niki looked at you. calm again. “oh, he does. i told him.”

you stopped breathing. “you what?”

he shrugged, gathering the last of the printed pages. “you were spiraling. he was spiraling. i connected the dots. you’re welcome.”

“you’re insane.”

“you say that like it’s news.”

and then, just when you thought he might actually leave, he turned at the door.

“don’t overthink it too hard,” he said. “it’s not like you’re the only human who’s ever made him spiral.”

your stomach dropped. “wait — the only what?”

he paused.

smiled.

too slow.

“neighbor,” he said, deadpan. “human neighbor. obviously.”

and then he was gone.

the apartment door clicked shut behind him.

you just stood there, staring. trying to decide whether this was real or some elaborate fever dream induced by printer ink fumes and too many empty carb meals.

and maybe that was what made you do it.

maybe that’s why, ten minutes later, you were zipping up your coat. lacing your sneakers. moving on autopilot. maybe that’s why your hand hovered near the elevator button, breath caught somewhere behind your teeth.

because something wasn’t right. and hadn’t been for a while. and maybe, just maybe, you were finally ready to find out what.

you pressed the button.

the elevator doors opened.

you stepped inside, heart in your throat, mind buzzing with too many thoughts and not enough certainty.

you were going back.

to the greenhouse.

to the one place in this strange building that made even less sense than the boy with the smirk and the printer.

and maybe, somehow, that was the whole point.

——

you didn’t really have a plan. just your coat half-zipped, your phone shoved into your pocket, and a fuzzy memory of the stairwell leading to the rooftop.

by the time you reached the greenhouse, the wind had started howling louder, curling around the marble like it had claws. the door creaked as you pushed it open, hesitant — not quite sure what you were hoping to find. not even sure you wanted to be seen.

but no one was there. not yet.

instead, there was… stillness. eerie, clean stillness. the kind that didn’t feel empty, just waiting.

the lights were dimmed to that soft, golden low — like the whole place was stuck between late evening and a dream. the air was warmer here than in the rest of the building, humid and filled with the scent of damp earth, jasmine, and something vaguely sweet you couldn’t place. like something had just bloomed, or was about to.

you stepped forward carefully, eyes flicking from one corner to another. there were plants you couldn’t name — some domestic, some probably illegal, some tall enough to have a personality. there were shelves of tools that looked antique, a misting system that hissed like a sleeping cat every few minutes, and in the far back — the camellias.

you didn’t know much about flowers, but those had been the ones the cute neighbor was tending the last time you embarrassed yourself in here. they looked too perfect to be real now. which somehow only made you more nervous.

you walked slowly, brushing your fingers over a leaf here, a petal there. something about the place made your heartbeat slow down — not relax, but drag, like time was thicker here.

you reached the camellias. stared at them. quiet. then:

“if you start talking, i swear to god i’ll scream.”

no response. which was good. you weren’t ready for enchanted flora just yet.

you leaned against the nearest wooden post and let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

“i’m not crazy,” you told the flowers. “i mean, maybe a little. but he’s just a guy. a really… visually jarring guy. with plants. and beautiful hands. and maybe cult energy. but still. a guy.”

actually, now that you thought about it, your father would be losing it if he saw you right now — probably wheezing from laughter, maybe texting you articles about urban hallucinations, and definitely threatening to drag you back to boseong before you joined a handsome, plant-worshipping cult.

you never been in love before, hell, you only felt attraction through tv shows and social media platforms. boseong didn’t have actual boys your age to fantasize about. so you felt stupid for being so new to all this experience. hell, you only found him hot, it’s not like you have already fell for him.

or so that was what you were willing to admit right now.

and of course — because your life was a joke — that was exactly when the door creaked open behind you.

you turned. slowly.

sunghoon stood in the entrance, hoodie pulled over his head, face unreadable under the warm light.

he was dressed so casually compared to the last time you saw him — exactly here, probably twenty-four hours ago to the minute — when he looked like he’d stepped out of a noir film in that trench coat that probably cost more than your tuition and shoes you were too scared to breathe near.

now it was just a hoodie. black, like niki’s. sleeves pushed to the forearms. sneakers.

he looked… human. more human than yesterday.

still, hot as fuck.

but you controlled your thoughts. barely.

“sorry that i’m trespassing again,” was your first move — because, naturally, you led with self-incrimination.

great. amazing. full confession. this man was definitely going to start locking the place now. maybe even file a restraining order.

honestly, you wouldn’t blame him.

he didn’t answer right away. you could feel his gaze, though — heavy, unreadable, like he was trying to decide if you were a threat or just stupid.

your embarrassment arrived a second too late. you turned your back to him, pretending you weren’t mortified and that the night view just happened to be that interesting.

and to be fair, it kind of was. this part of the greenhouse stretched farther than you realized — glass walls curved outward, revealing the full sprawl of the city below. lights blinked like dying stars. rooftops dusted with frost. your own reflection faint in the glass, barely outlined by the soft yellow glow inside.

you exhaled.

“i hadn’t seen this part yesterday,” you said quietly to no one exactly. “was too busy making a fool of myself in the front.”

you didn’t turn around. just kept your eyes on the skyline. “it’s pretty,” you added. “i mean—i guess you know that. you live here. obviously.”

you heard movement behind you. quiet steps on stone. then his voice — calm, low.

“most people don’t notice this part. too bright during the day.”

you blinked. “well. i only trespass at night, apparently.”

there was a pause. not awkward — just… full.

“you can keep coming here, if you like,” he said finally, gaze fixed on the orchid. “it’s nice during winter.”

you blinked. “is this special treatment because i became friends with one of your roommates?”

he glanced at you. “are you talking about riki?”

“riki? i swear it was niki.”

he laughed. and you absolutely weren’t prepared.

it wasn’t loud — just a quiet, breathy sound, like something slipped out before he could stop it — but it lit across his face in this rare, startling way. his lips parted slightly. you caught the sharp glint of his canines.

and for one irrational second, you felt your blood run cold.

those were long ass canines, my lord.

“yes, niki,” he said, finally looking away. “he goes by that too, apparently. he’s… troublesome. don’t fall for his traps.”

you smiled before you could help it. “thanks for the concern, but i think it’s too late. he literally invaded my apartment earlier today.”

sunghoon raised a brow. 

“printer emergency,” you added, like that somehow justified it.

his mouth twitched. “sounds like him.”

you nodded, trying not to feel weirdly proud that this sunghoon guy didn’t seem annoyed. that he was still standing there. that he hadn’t told you to leave.

did niki say anything to him? god, if he did…

until then, sunghoon had kept a good distance between you both — a few careful feet, a plant or two, like the space between you was intentional. personal. you let it slide, thinking maybe he still thought you were unstable. (which, fair.)

still, you figured you shouldn’t push your luck. shouldn’t linger long enough to ruin the first actually peaceful moment you’d shared with him.

so, with slow steps, you began walking further into the greenhouse, fingers brushing gently over the edge of a planter, letting the silence settle.

the warmth of the space, the smell of wet soil and night-blooming flowers — it all pressed around you like a soft blanket. 

you let yourself breathe.

“do you all live here? for how long?” you couldn’t help but ask, voice low, like the plants might tattle.

sunghoon didn’t answer right away. you glanced back at him — he hadn’t moved from his spot, still half-shadowed by a curtain of ivy, the soft yellow light outlining the curve of his jaw.

“a while,” he said finally. vague. noncommittal. ancient-sounding.

you waited for more. didn’t get it.

“like... years?”

he tilted his head. “give or take.”

you squinted. “that’s not an answer.”

“it’s the only one you’re getting.”

you exhaled, half amused, half suspicious. so mysterious. so nonchalant. so suspiciously good at evading direct human timelines.

“you’re worse than niki at evading questions, god. are you all like this?”

sunghoon almost smiled — almost. just a flicker at the corner of his mouth, like he was debating whether you were worth the truth or just another nosy neighbor with too much curiosity and too little survival instinct.

“maybe it’s a roommate requirement,” he said.

you narrowed your eyes. “what, like a quiz? ‘how mysterious are you on a scale from 1 to dramatic rooftop monologue’?”

this time, he actually smiled. just a little. but it was there.

“you’d fail,” he said simply.

you gasped. “rude.”

“you talk too much.”

you grinned. “and you brood too much. balance.”

“actually, you’re the one who should be asking questions,” you shot back, turning to face him fully. “i got here first.”

sunghoon blinked, like he was momentarily stunned by your logic.

“trespassing doesn’t count as arrival,” he said flatly.

“semantics.” you waved a hand. “i was emotionally distressed. that grants me squatters’ rights.”

he let out a quiet breath — not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh.

“you’re unbelievable.”

“and yet, here you are,” you said, gesturing between you. “still talking to me. maybe you’re the crazy one.”

he didn’t deny it. just glanced away, like maybe you were onto something.

“do you always go out with your pink phone case?”

you froze. blinked. stared. how did he—

“wait, you noticed that?”

sunghoon didn’t even blink. “hard to miss.”

your mouth opened, then closed. “it’s for the aesthetics. i like pink.”

he hummed, like he was storing the information away for later. or judging you. or both.

you crossed your arms. “don’t make that face.”

“i didn’t make a face.”

“you did. it was very i-expected-black-but-of-course-it’s-pink.”

he looked at you, gaze steady. “i expected lavender, actually.”

“do i give off lavender vibes?” you asked, genuinely confused.

sunghoon didn’t answer right away — just tilted his head slightly, eyes trailing over you in that unreadable way of his, like he was assessing your soul for color palette accuracy.

“sometimes,” he said. “but mostly… chaotic rose gold.”

you squinted. “that’s not a real vibe.”

“it is now.”

“you just made that up.”

“it’s a pretty color,” sunghoon said.

you blinked at him. “are you calling me pretty?”

“no.”

“that’s rude.”

“you should be at your apartment.”

you narrowed your eyes. “are you saying i’m ugly, then?”

he didn’t flinch. “beauty is about preferences. you can think a flower is pretty, but someone else might think it’s not the best.”

you stared. “are you a walking inspirational monologue coach? is that your side hustle? why are you always showing up late at night like some poetic batman?”

sunghoon looked off toward the glass ceiling like he was considering whether to dignify that with an answer.

“plants prefer quiet,” he said finally. “and so do i.”

you crossed your arms. “you’re so weird.”

and cute, you wanted to add, but decided against giving him that satisfaction. instead, you walked further into the greenhouse, letting the soft hum of warmth and the faint scent of soil wrap around you like a blanket.

you couldn’t believe you were actually talking to the cute neighbor. like really having a conversation, not just a one sided talk. you think you could count this as a good win for today.

the camellias were everywhere — climbing the trellises, tucked into carefully sculpted beds, blooming in quiet defiance of winter. pale pink, deep red, soft ivory. some petals curled like folded silk, others stretched wide like they had something to prove. you could tell someone tended to them with care. the kind of care that didn’t just water plants but listened to them.

tiny ceramic pots lined the shelves, holding herbs you didn’t recognize, some with tags written in what you swore wasn’t korean. there was a cluster of hanging plants near the center — spider plants, trailing vines, a few that looked carnivorous — and nestled between them, a tea set. just… sitting there. like someone had once hosted a garden party and forgot to clean up.

you weren’t sure how long you wandered, fingertips grazing leaves and petals, occasionally pausing to mutter something dumb like you guys get more affection than i do. it felt sacred in a way. not holy, but intentional. lived-in. like it had memories.

eventually, you saw him again.

sunghoon.

he was standing by the far end of the greenhouse now — in the same spot you had been earlier, overlooking the city through the large arched window. the skyline shimmered under the frostbitten night, a painting of silver and cold light. he was still. too still. hands in the pockets of his black hoodie, shoulders drawn back, head tilted just slightly, as if listening to something only he could hear.

you didn’t think. just moved. quietly, carefully, like your slippers might betray you.

he didn’t turn. he didn’t seem to notice you at all — until you got too close.

you were maybe two steps behind him when it happened.

his body stiffened. violently.

his shoulders tensed first, like he’d been punched in the spine, then his head turned just enough for you to see it: the way his eyes had gone wide, pupils blown open like ink on paper.

then the wince.

his nose twitched, and in the span of a single breath, he stumbled back.

three steps. four. too fast. like he’d touched fire.

his face wasn’t angry. it wasn’t surprised, either. it was… pained.

like something disgusted him. or worse — tempted him.

you stood frozen between the camellias and the windows, confused and small.

he was staring at you like you were the ghost.

you stepped back too, instinctively — as if your retreat might undo whatever invisible boundary you’d just crossed.

“are you okay?” you asked, voice soft, the question half-caught in your throat.

sunghoon didn’t answer right away. he was still staring. still breathing like he’d run here instead of just been standing still.

his jaw flexed once, then again. you could see it — the way he was trying to keep his composure, to collect himself into something human, but failing spectacularly.

his tongue darted out to wet his lips, slow, distracted, and for a second you could’ve sworn you saw it — the glint of a canine too long, too sharp.

his eyes, dark and wide, flashed. not red. not exactly. but something burned behind them, low and glowing.

he took another step back.

then another.

“you should go,” he said finally. voice low. hoarse. like the words scraped on the way out.

you blinked. “did i… do something wrong?”

he shut his eyes for a beat too long. shook his head, almost imperceptibly.

“no,” he said, forcing a breath through clenched teeth. “it’s not you.”

and then, quieter — barely audible, like a confession he didn’t mean for you to catch: 

“it’s me.”

you hesitated, your fingers curling slightly at your sides.

“do you want me to call niki? or a medic? are you sure you’re alright?”

his eyes snapped shut again. his voice was rough when it came out — like it hurt.

“please. you can leave already.”

you took a cautious step forward anyway. “should i go find one of your roommates?”

that’s when he flinched — visibly, violently.

“fuck—just stay right there. don’t move.”

it wasn’t anger. it was something else. desperation. restraint.

you froze.

his pupils were blown wide now, his chest rising and falling too fast. his hands trembled where they hung by his sides, like he was holding himself back from something.

“please,” he said again. this time quieter. almost a whisper. almost a plea.

you didn’t say anything. just nodded, slowly, and backed toward the door — one careful step at a time.

and the moment you were out, you heard it.

not footsteps.

not words.

just the slam of a side door somewhere deeper in the greenhouse.

like he needed distance. fast.

like he needed saving from something only he understood.

you didn’t look back.

but you didn’t stop thinking about it, either.

not even once.

author's note: i swear the more vampiric side of this story WILL GET HERE, just wait a bit more. i know this is fast paced, i know this is rushed and chaotic, but bear with my little time to plot everything and proofread it. i hope we see each other in the next chapter. send me a request • my masterpost

[birdiewritessometimes]

hii looooved the mattheo riddle fic any chance u cld plsssss do more bc i’m obsessed. like mattheo riddle x harry’s twin sister or smth would EAT

All His

A/N: Hi anon! Thank you so much for reading and liking my mattheo fic <3 thank you so much for this request, i hope you liked it <3

I used some promts for this writing, one was from @thepromptswhisperer 's "you're blushing" promts and the others were from @stormyskies-writes 's spicy romance promts. These really helped me with the banter for this story and these two have really good prompts if yall might need/want some prompts for your own stories <3

Also, i'm sorry Mattheo isn't as soft in this one, i tried something different and i hope you like it. I will probably write more of soft!matty because he is a cutie.

Also, also, I'm sorry for any mistakes i might have made, I usually come back to my stories a couple of days later with fresh eyes hihi <3

Also request something if you want to!

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Potter!reader

Themes/warnings: Cursing, slight suggestive, slight enemies to lovers but not really, bickering, so much bickering, McLaggen (he's a warning in himself really)

Word count: 4000 - ish

Please do not copy or translate my work!

It has been about a month since the school year started at Hogwarts. It was colder, leaves changing colour for green to yellow to orange. The familiar cold breeze sweeping through the castle, signalling that autumn really was here. Thankfully there were fires scattered around the castle to keep its inhabitants warm. You were sitting by one of these fires in the library. Its flames effectively warming you from the cold that was seeping through the stonewalls. You were working on an essay for your defence against the dark arts class. It was about sirens. You found the subject intriguing, aquatic life had always interested you, but you couldn’t for the life of you concentrate on your work. Your brother and his friend had joined you and Hermione but instead of studying they were glaring and huffing at a table all the way across the library. The table in question were occupied by a group of Slytherin boys notorious for picking fights with Harry and Ron. At what seemed like their hundred huff you lost your calm, feeling extremely annoyed by their disruptions.

“Really, boys just study instead of making googly eyes at the Slytherins.” You said with an eyeroll. “Or at least shut up.” You snapped. Harry rolled his eyes at your attitude, he was quite used to your attitude, having the privilege to grow up with it since he was your twin.

“We weren’t-” Ron started to defend himself, but you interrupted.

“I must admit, Mattheo is quite cute under all that annoying personality,” You sighed as you cast a glance at the brunette that was chatting casually to his friends, he was a picture of relaxed arrogance as he leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head, “but I didn’t think he was your type.” Harry made a face of disgust at your admission which you replied with a glare.

“Y/n, you can’t be serious? Riddle?” Harry said with that disgust distinguishable in his voice.

“I didn’t say I wanted his babies now did I, Harry?” You rolled your eyes at your brother.

“I don’t care who wants whose babies, just shut up.” Hermione hissed annoyed before she turned back to her own essay. You and Harry sent glares at each other, those types of glares only siblings seemed to be able to muster. Turning back to your essay you read through it. You noticed that you could add some facts to the last part of your text. To do that you needed a new book: An advanced guide to aquatic dangers. With a sigh you rose from your, the wooden chair creaking at your movement.

“Oi, where are you going?” Ron asked, accusingly, almost like he thought you were going over to the Slytherins. He eyed you suspiciously, making you roll your eyes for the umpteenth time.

“Relax Ron, I’m just going to get another book.” You said with a tired voice. You walked slowly through the old library, wooden floorboards creaking under your shoes as you browsed the shelves that held the books on water-beings. There was an unbelievable number of books on the subject, but you needed just one. Searching what you thought was your 50th bookshelf you finally found the book you were looking for. It was in a hidden corner near the table of boys your brother and friend had glared at moments earlier. As you reached for it you noticed that it was placed higher than you thought. You tried to reach it a couple of times to no avail. As you let out a groan of frustration a hand shot out from behind you, easily grabbing it. Another hand was braced on the shelf in front of you. It was adorned by two silver rings, one on the index with a serpent on it, and the other was a signet ring on the pinkie with the initials M.R. You swallowed quickly before turning around, coming face to, well, chest with the Slytherin you just referred to as ‘cute’. He still had the book in his hand, a smirk on his face and he leaned into the hand on the shelf, effectively invading you personal space even more. His presence wrapping around you like a warm blanket shielding you from the coldness of the castle.

“Reading up on your ancestry, Potter?” He asked with a smirk as he gestured to the sketched siren on the cover of the book. You narrowed your eyes at him confused, did he just complement you or insult you?

“Are you insulting me or complementing me, Riddle?” You couldn’t help but ask, your eyes still scanning him suspiciously.

“Isn’t that the same thing for you?” He answered, a cheeky grin on his face, “Hateful comments seem to be the way to your heart, Potter.” You sighed and rolled your eyes at the boy, was he always this annoying? You couldn’t believe you’d just called him cute. You wished you could take it back. Mattheo was quite the flirt with the girls of the school, but his latest target seemed to be you. It didn’t seem like it mattered what you threw back at him, he would always turn it into some weird way of flirting.

“Thinking of how much you want kiss me, Potter?” He interrupted your train of thought with a smirk, leaning in closer into your space, you could smell him now, he smelled good rich, but you would never admit that out loud.

“In your dreams, Riddle.” You huffed in feign annoyance, you would never admit it, but you quite enjoyed the back and forth between the two of you. If he wasn’t known for being a ladies man you might’ve considered going out with him, regardless of what your brother thought of him. It wasn’t a secret that Harry and Mattheo didn’t like each other. This was also a reason why you couldn’t figure out for the life of you why he had set his sights on you.

“Oh, trust me darling, in my dreams we do way more that just kiss.” He said while wiggling his eyebrows at you with a suggestive grin. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks in embarrassment from his insinuation.

“You’re blushing.” He said as he poked your cheek with a chuckle.

“Yeah, so? Never seen anyone fall for your charm before?” You asked sarcastically, rolling your eyes for good measure. He chuckled at that and handed you the book he was still holding.

“Always a pleasure, Potter.” He said, finally stepping away from you, cold air engulfed you when he pulled away, his hand falling to his side.

“I wish I could say the same, but I don’t think you’re capable of making a woman feel pleasure.” You said, you gave the boy a wink before turning on your heel, walking back to your table. You could feel your heart calming down as you neared your table as you weaved in and out of shelves on your way back. Sitting down on the uncomfortable wooden chair you gently placed the book on the table.

“What the hell took you so long?” Harry asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“The book was just hard to find.” You said swiftly, you dared to cast a quick glance at the table across the library. He was already staring at you, his gaze was tracing your form, something alike hunger behind his eyes. You quickly looked away, not wanting to be caught staring by Harry or Ron. The rest of the evening you glanced over at him now and then. He was already looking at you every time. The look on his face unreadable but his eyes still had that hungry look. As the autumn weather really made its home on the grounds the lessons progressed. You had scored an ‘outstanding’ on your essay by Professor Snape. You were thinking about it late one evening around two weeks after your study session in the library.

You couldn’t sleep, which is how you ended up in the kitchens, a mug of warm milk in your hands. You were glad that it was a weekend, meaning that you didn’t have to be up early for classes. Your mind drifted from your grade on your essay to the boy who had helped you reach the book which had helped you. He continued to shamelessly flirt with you, ignoring your brothers warnings to stay away from you. You had to admit, his flirting was charming, in its own way. You had no idea how he pulled off half the stunts he did, like how he managed to get your favourite flowers on your bedside table. First of all, how did he know which flowers were your favourite? Second of all, how did he get them into your dorm? Or all the times you would find your favourite candy in your pockets or bag with a small note with his initials. You would lie if you said it didn’t work on you though. The banter whenever you would talk in combination with these sweet gestures really was the way to your heart and you had no idea how he had figured it out. When you had finished your milk, you thanked the houselves and started to make your way up the stairs that led from the kitchen corridor. Rounding a corner you slammed into a chest. Panicking, thinking it was a teacher, you started to utter out apologies and excuses as to why you were out of bed.

“Shut up, Potter or we will be caught!” A voice you so clearly recognised whisper shouted. Looking up you saw none other than Mattheo Riddle, the boy who was occupying your mind more often than not nowadays. Before you could retort you heard footsteps echo through the hall, nearing where the two of you were.

“Shit.” You whispered in unison. Realising where in the castle you were you grabbed Mattheo by the collar and dragged him in to a broom closet that was hidden right by the entrance to the stairs that led to the kitchens. The closet was small, the space felt cramped as you were standing chest to chest with Mattheo, your hands still gripping his collar. You stared up at Mattheo, eyes wide in fear of getting caught out of bed. Seeing your fear, he placed a hand on your cheek, rubbing your cheekbone slightly, in an attempt to comfort you. It did the exact opposite. Your heart was racing, not from the fear of getting caught, but from the way he was touching you. His hand was warm, his palm rough from quidditch but his touch gentle. You looked at him, really looked at him, his brown eyes soft, his curls sightly messy. You couldn’t help yourself as you shamelessly checked him out. He was looking at you now and it felt like the room got even smaller as a small smirk made its way onto his lips. You were so close, his body pressing against yours, his warmth surrounding you like a blanket. You were so close that your faces were centimetres apart.

“You like what you see?” He whispered, his breath hitting your face. Your brain couldn’t process what was happening right now. He let out a quiet, breathy laugh at your inability to answer him. When he quieted the tension flooded right back. His eyes traced your face, flickering to your lips for a split second before finding your wide eyes again.

“Is it weird that I really want to kiss you right now?” He murmured as his eyes found your lips again for a split second. Your mind went completely blank. All you knew is that you wanted him, needed him to kiss you.

“But I won’t, not until you ask me to.” He smirked before quietly opening the door to the closet. No footsteps could be heard. Cold air welled in, effectively breaking the trance he had you in. You frowned at him. He slipped out of the closet, and you sneaked out after him. You felt anger rise in you chest as you watched the back of his curly mop of hair descend the stone stairs to the kitchens.

“Fuck you, Mattheo.” You whisper shouted. You heard a chuckle from the stairs.

“Fuck me yourself, you coward.” He whispered back making you gape in the general direction of his voice in disbelief. You huffed in annoyance before turning around, sneaking your way back to your common room. The whole way back you thought about how soft his lips had looked and how angry you were with yourself for falling for his charms so easily. After this incident something shifted between you. The usual banter was mixed with something more, a longing, from the both of you. Insults was mixed with tones of want. He would also find ways to touch you more often after the incident in the broom closet. One thing you noticed in the middle of December was that he had not so much as looked at another girl while he was flirting with you. Hermione was even pointing it out. Saying that a few girls had tried to get with him but that he had ignored them completely. It was a beautiful snowy but cold day, and you had just been invited to Slughorn’s Christmas party, along with your brother and Hermione. You noticed that the grounds were covered in glittering white snow as you and Hermione were discussing who to go with on your way to ancient runes. You walked past Mattheo; him and his friends were also part of the so-called Slug club. You watched him as he laughed at something that his friend Theodore said. He really was gorgeous.

“I am going with Terry Boot, as friends, you should go with Harry, Hermione.” You said to Hermione when you had passed the boys.

“Oh, why didn’t I think of that?” She let out as she slapped her forehead in annoyance with herself.

“Are you going with someone else?” You asked amusedly. Hermione reddened, clearly embarrassed with her choice of date.

“Well, I was thinking about who would piss of Ron the most so I kind of asked Cormac.” She said as you let out a laugh. Hermione and Ron were having a rough time with each other at the moment, mostly because Ron was acting like an ass. She slapped your arm in annoyance.

“It’s not funny!” She said with a frown.

“It kind of is, Hermione.” You said, still chuckling.

“Well, I’m surprised that you didn’t go with Riddle.” She retorted.

“Why?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Because it’s obvious that you like each other.” She shrugged her shoulders as you walked into the classroom and sat down in your seat.

“We do not!” You said incredulously. She gave you a look of disbelief before bringing out her book and some parchment to write notes. Through the lesson Mattheo occupied your mind like he usually did nowadays. He was attractive, and sweet and he seemed to have changed his ways with girls. You were occupied by these thoughts even when you walked through the castle corridors to the great hall with Hermione after the lesson had finished. She was going on about how interesting the lesson was with you barley listening. When you were in the entrance hall you bumped your shoulder into someone and just as you were about to apologise you saw that it was none other than the boy who were occupying your mind.

“Stop daydreaming about me and watch where you’re going, love.” He said with a cheeky wink. Snapping out of your dazed state you narrowed your eyes at him, but not as sharply as you usually did.

“Please, any dream involving you would be a nightmare.” You rolled your eyes; you heard a chuckle from Mattheo’s friend Theodore. Mattheo sent a glare at his friend before turning back to you, that made you smile slightly.

“I heard you were going to Slughorn’s party with Terry Boot.” He stated casually. You eyed him suspiciously.

“Why? You jealous, Riddle?” You taunted him with a smirk on your face. He scoffed.

“Of him having to hold your sweaty hand? No, I think I’m fine.” He stated nonchalantly, you rolled your eyes at him.

“Oh, shut up.” You said, annoyance in your voice.

“You shut up.” He said back, getting closer to your face.

“Make me.” You retorted, staring him directly in his eyes.

“Okay, but you might moan a little.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders as he backed off slightly. You gaped at him. The audacity. His friends chuckled and he gave you a cheeky grin before casually sauntering off with his friends.

“You were saying something about not liking each other?” Hermione said, effectively rubbing salt in your wounds.

“Not a word.” You said grumpily as you made your way to the great hall in silence. The evening of the party arrived sooner than you thought. You were walking arm in arm with Terry. You wore a nice dress for the occasion, one that was accentuating your curves. Terry looked nice too in a suit and bowtie. When you entered the party, it was in full swing, people mingling and eating the finger food that was offered. You and Terry took the drink that was offered upon your arrival and went around and mingled with people. You looked around the beautifully decorated room, it was perfectly decorated for Christmas. Your eyes landed on a group of guys, Mattheo and his friends. You noticed that he didn’t seem to have a date. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. You were sure he would bring someone. Your eyes drifted to Cormac, alone, seeming to look for someone. You excused yourself to Terry. He let you go without any hesitation, continuing to talk with some other Ravenclaw boy. You looked around and saw two familiar silhouettes behind a sheer curtain. When you walked over you found Hermione hiding there with Harry, panic evident in his eyes.

“What’s going on?” You asked your brother as you saw Hermione stuffing her mouth with the dragon ball tarte. You scrunched your nose at this, since it was notorious to make your breath stink.

“Hermione is trying to ward of McLaggen.” Harry said with a laugh at the girl who was clearly suffering. You gave the girl a look of sympathy.

“Oh, here he comes.” Hermione said, panic in her voice, as she quickly escaped out the other side of the curtain, Harry hot on her heels. Leaving you alone to fend of the sleazy boy.

“Where did she go?” Cormac asked.

“To the ladies room.” You swiftly lied. You gave him a small, polite smile before you tried to pass him to rejoin the party. He stopped you by grabbing your upper arm rather harshly.

“Well, she is a real minx, your friend. But seeing as we’re here, alone, we might as well.” He said, a greasy smile on his face. You frowned at him, but you were gagging on the inside. You tried to yank your arm free from his grip, but he didn’t let go. You were about to tell him to let you go when someone else got before you.

“Get your hands off her.” A cold voice came from behind Cormac. You looked over his shoulder and you saw none other than Mattheo Riddle standing there, face stoic apart from the muscle that was popping from his jaw. He looked deadly. Cormac’s grip faltered but he didn’t let go.

“Look man-” He started, but Mattheo didn’t let him finish.

“There is nothing you could say that won’t make me break your face if you don’t get your slimy hand off of her in the next 2 seconds.” Mattheo got out through gritted teeth. Seeing Mattheo so angry made you feel some type of way. Cormac let you go slowly, his face pale as he excused himself. He knew better than to mess with the beater of the Slytherin team. The boy notorious for fighting anyone who pissed him off without a second thought. Your eyes met Mattheo’s under the low lights as he took slow steps towards you. He was handsome in his suit, the top buttons of his dress shirt unbuttoned. His face was still cold as he stopped in front of you. His hand moved to gently touch your arm, where Cormac had gripped it rather harshly. His rings were cool against your hot skin, sending shivers down your spine. The way he was looking at you made you feel hot. He closed his eyes as he forced a breath through his nose.

“Are you okay?” You asked him in a low voice. His eyes shot open as he studied your face.

“I should be the one asking that, but I’m fine.” He let out tensely. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You’re not.” You stated as a matter of fact.

“I am.” He was still sounding extremely tense.

“That’s not the truth, tell me the truth Mattheo. What were you jealous?” You threw the words out, but when you said them, it dawned on you. Could he have been jealous? His eyes narrowed this time.

“I was not, I just don’t like slimy guys.” He muttered irritably he looked like he would snap any second now.

“You’re such an asshole. If you weren’t jealous, why would you threaten Corm-”

“Okay, fine! I was jealous. I was so jealous that I could rip his throat out for just talking to you, let alone touching you. I was jealous when I saw you walking in with Boot” he spat his name, “because he had the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen as his date” he gestured to you, “I was jealous because whatever I do, I will never be that guy to you. I shouldn’t be jealous, because you aren’t even mine, yet here I am.” He was breathing heavily after he was done with his rant. You were smiling shyly up at him as you took a couple of steps closer to him, invading his personal space. Your hands found the planes of his stomach before they travelled slowly up his chest and around his neck. He let out a low groan at your actions.

“Kiss me, asshole.” You whispered; he closed his eyes at your words. Your mind was immediately brought back to the almost kiss in the broom closet and how sure of himself he sounded when he had said that he wouldn’t kiss you unless you asked.

“The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop.” He murmured back his hands finding your hips, gripping them tightly.

“Maybe I don’t want you to.” You replied simply and it was like all restraint he had in him flew out the window. He smashed his lips to yours. The kiss was desperate, lips and teeth clashing, his tongue fighting with yours as his hands moved from your hips to your waist, giving it a squeeze. Yours found his hair, pulling on the strands on the back of his neck. Eliciting a moan from him. The kiss was far from sweet, but you didn’t want it any other way. It felt like months of feelings and want was poured into the kiss. It was as if he kissed you hard enough you would understand his feelings for you. You kissed him back with just as much fervour, as if you too were trying to convey your feelings through the kiss.

“My eyes!” You heard a shriek from behind you. You and Mattheo broke apart, startled from the sound. Turning around you saw Harry and Hermione standing there. Harry had the most disgusted expression you had ever seen, and Hermione looked awfully smug.

“Really y/n? Riddle?” Harry said in an annoyed voice to which you rolled your eyes.

“Shut up Harry, go away.” You said, annoyance in your own voice, Hermione didn’t say anything as she slowly pulled Harry away, but she still had that smug smile on her face. You turned back to Mattheo, who had your lipstick all over his lips, and he was looking at you with a look you’ve never seen before. His eyes were soft, tender, a small smirk was on his lips. The look made you feel weak in the knees. With your heart hammering you snaked your arms around his neck again.

“You can be as jealous as you want, asshole, because I’m yours.” You whispered, your eyes finding his. His smile widened as he took one of your hands of his neck and took it in his. He took off his signet ring, where his initials were carved, and put it on your index finger.

“There, all mine.” He said softly before kissing you again, softer this time. His lips were gentle against yours, his hands tracing your back as yours raked through his hair.

“All yours.” You murmured against his lips, to which he groaned.

“I could listen to you saying that all night.” He said, his voice sounding strained, and he parted from you a little, needing to collect himself. You were still at Slughorn’s party after all.

“If you play your cards right maybe you will.” You said seductively as you pulled him back to you by his belt. He groaned, which he covered up by coughing when a teacher walked by on the other side of the curtain. You giggled at this.

“Well, handsome, I’m going to rejoin my date for the party.” You said, a teasing smile on your face. He looked at you bewildered.

“I might be yours now, but I wasn’t when I agreed to be Terry’s date for tonight.” You said a teasing note in your voice.

“I’ll see you tonight.” You whispered into his ear before placing a kiss to his cheek and slipping out the curtain. It would be a long night.

[melodrangea]

Nicknames Soul Eaters Boys call their S/O

———————

Soul “Eater” Evans

sweetheart

he says this extremely sarcastically, especially during training

“C’mon sweetheart, is that all you got? I saw you lift twice as much yesterday.”

doll

often uses it in a more formal setting or when he’s trying to tease

“What’s the matter doll? Cat got your tongue?”

He’s a little menace but he’s our menace <3

babe

most common out of the three

you name DOES NOT exist to this man

no name, no nickname, nothing

“Babe can I borrow your notes. Babe where do you wanna go later? BABE”

———————

Black Star

n/n or another variation of you name

doesn’t really use pet names much (sorry babes)

why words words on pet names? he’s way too blunt and if he’s feeling something he’ll just say it, not waste time on fancy words or pet names

(that’s what he tells himself being fr he’s not creative enough as much as I love him)

babe

mostly used around friends (this dumbass thinks he’s being smug)

“hey babe wasn’t going out yesterday awesome? I mean since we’re so inlove and everything.”

the little shit would make your relationship EVERYONE ELSE’S problem (no one is safe 😭)

———————

Death the Kid

Darling

this pretentious hipster

is fairly consistent with the pet names he uses but darling is his favorite

“Darling can you please pass me that book there?”

“Are you alright darling?”

my dear

uses this one without realizing it most of the time

will be chilling in the library studying and will half-consciously call for you

“are you almost done?”

“just a few minutes more my dear, then we can go”

you chuckled, “what did you call me”

“what do you mean, what did I call you?”

love

Kid is a romantic at heart, very classy as well

he would stare into your eyes and call you love

“my love you have no clue how much I love you.”

———————

Crona Gorgon

honey

you would call him honey bunny as a joke and he loved it so he started calling you honey

would always have the cutest blush in his face when he said it too

“o-oh thank you honey :)” (cutie patootie 💋)

dear

would definitely take him a while to start calling this, but when he does 🤌💋

“are you alright if we stay a little longer dear? It’s been a while since we’ve seen the others”

being fr this poor soul would be TERRIFIED to call you something other than your name or a variation for A WHILE

his brains running six times the speed 🏃🏼

———————

Professor Stein

this sadistic mf

i pray for anyone dating this man

but we can be delulu for a few

dove

would absolutely call you dove or some other kind of bird

reminds him of how he protects you like your a delicate bird (and he likes experimenting on birds if yk what i mean 😏)

angel

TELL ME HE WOULDN’T

ngl he only calls you angel when he’s horny asf in a good mood

“hey angel, can you come here for a bit?”

NONE OF YOUR HOLES ARE SAFE RIP

honey

only time your safe if when he calls you honey

mostly calls you this when you’re having a bad day

BUT HE STILL MANAGES TO SOUND SARCASTIC ASF

this is a warning, this man will accidentally hurt your feelings 24/7

“You doing alright there honey? You want to talk about it?”

———————

Kilik Rung

fuck not being allowed to have favorites I LOVE THIS BITCH

only fully green flag in the show i stg (except Marie ofc)

lovebug

he will call you every single pet name he can come up with, but love bug is his favorite

neither of you know how it started but you’re not complaining

“You’re too sweet for me lovebug” <33

sweets

ya see what i did there? ofc he combines his two favorite things: you and those damn candy bars

“This class is so boring, right sweets?”

will calls you sweets often to express thanks kinda like a “thanks toots”

getting more into that

toots

he thinks he’s funny (and he is)

will say this very ironically and usually infront of friends to make everyone laugh

the only slightly annoying quality abt Kilik is his inability to take anything other than combat seriously

“hey toots, how’s it goin’?”

hon

I SWEAR THIS IS THE LAST ONE!

but you cannot tell me this man is not from New Orleans or some other adjacent

and the hon with the southern-ish accent

being so fr he will call you hon all the time and it will fluster tf out of you (he’s smug abt it, just a little 🤏

“You look nice, who are you all dressed up for hun?”

———————————————————————————

woo hoo first post!

anyways hope y’all are doing great

any comments, questions, requests or concerns feel free to DM me!

-Melodrangea <3

[kenwio]

Joker's kid! reader: kids of villains: meeting Cass and Stephanie

Route: recovered dove

Warnings: bad writing, bad English, attempt at fluff?

Authors note: I know Im late. Its far past midnight where I am, and only now i found time to post. I am currently not able to post regulary, but I will post when i can. I will answer on all coments I haven`t yet after some sleep

They say, when you see something one time you cannot unseen it. In your case it was, when you heard something, you cannot stop hearing it. Well, since you become a real member of batfamily, free to hang out with everyone and almost everywhere in a manor, you were fee to converse and to hear the conversations of others. And while doing it, you started notice how everyone were bringing up two names. Cassandra and Stephanie.

One time it was when you came down to the batcave to bring Tim yet another cup of coffee. Dodging consequences of Damian's and Dick's training, you carefully completed your task and started watching the two of them

- Hey, Dams, is that a new move? - Dick commented, dodging the blow in his dramatically graceful manner

-  Cassandra have showed it to me

- Cass? Wait, why she has name privileges and I don't?

.... Cass?

Or another day, or rather night, where you were woken up by the sudden thunder, and decided to watch few documentaries in the living room to distract yourself. On your way Chlory, who was on your shoulder pulled you, so you've look in the library and low and behold, Tim was doing something on the laptop sitting near the couch on the floor while Jason was on the couch reading. You walked over, sitting next to Jason, Chlory creaked happily to greet both of them.

- How was patrol? - you asked them

- good - Jay answered calmly, giving you a head pat

- yeah, aside from Jason acting not according to the plan - Tim grumbled

- hey, I couldn't possibly ignore the tip Steph gave me, could I?

.... Steph?

It led you to conclusion: they existed, well obviously, and they were part of batfamily, meaning your family. You had two more siblings, and you didn't know about them. You didn't really know why. Maybe Bruce have told you, because now thinking about that, you remember him mentioning you haven't met all of your family, but he didn't really talk in long about them with you. Maybe that was caused by the fact that he was busy, maybe by the fact that your adjusting to the family took longer than he thought.  You couldn't know the real reason, that's why you were left theorizing. All you could say for sure, is that you wanted to meet them.  You wanted to know Cass and Steph

Maybe, this wish was heard by stars or wind, like in fairytales you read to Chlory in order to practice your read and speech, but really soon after you met them, and, well, it all happened in true batfamily fashion

You Firstly met Steph. It happened one particularly noisy afternoon, when it seemed everyone who was in manor, that left you with Jason and Damian ... and some other voice. You've considering to stay in your room, but your hunger decided for you. So, you made your way to the kitchen.... and saw her, as your latter found out. She was emptying the fridge from every food option possible, with intention to make it her meal. As you stared at her, trying to analyze her opinion on you, she started back, slightly startled and surprised

- wow, this is awkward.... - she said, soon after, her eyes traveled between you and her food collection- wanna sandwich?

You nodded.

Soon you found out, Stephanie was a ... rather talkative person, a yapper as she called herself. And maybe it was overwhelming at times, because she talked even more than your biological father, you liked the way Steph talked. She talked with you as if your past didn't exist, as if she didn't care about your blood relations, and soon you found out she indeed did not

- Pfft, my father was a bad guy too. Am I a villain to ya? - she said one time you brought it up.

In Steph's eyes you were adorable! A little cutie, who looked a bit too lost, sure, but aside from that, you were cute as hell. So, she wanted to hang out with you. She told you funny stories about her school life and her patrols. Sometimes she joined you and Tim in your game nights. And she also helped you to color your hair.

As for Cass, you met her later. It wasn't something awkward, at least on her part. You just noticed that dancing room (yes you were surprised that it was in manor) which was usually empty and that's why closed, was open. You couldn't help but get curious and take a look. What you saw was really beautiful. You saw dancing only on TV, when Jason showed you ballet adaptation of Romeo and Juliette. But the moment was short lived, Cass noticed you right away, turning to look at you, and after few moments she softly smiled at you, giving you a little greeting wave.

Cas knew body language like no one else, she was professional in reading it, and she saw your hesitance, she noticed presence of small fear, but that was to be expected, judging by the what Bruce have talked about you. And she, for sure never noticed anything malicious in you. You were a kid, who was traumatized beyond measure. She could relate. She, just like you, weren’t given a choice, but now in the Wayne manor everything is better. You safe now. You have control of what you do and who you are.

Cass took you after her wing in some sense. She showed you that with her you were safe. She also did not pressure you it any point in expression yourself though words, she could understand you without them. You both formed almost telepathic bound, understanding each other without words. And it was nice. Sometimes you both just hang out with each other, while being busy with your own activities: she could dance and you could draw, and sometimes (oftentimes) during those sessions you draw her. You both also started practicing reading and speaking together. Sure, it surprised her that you already had a deep knowledge about since language (thanks to Tim), but it made her proud of you. She was proud to be your older sister

And sometimes the three of you hang out together. Steph called three of you (and sometimes she forced squad Damian to join in) the villain's kids, and we'll name was suiting. Steph was talking about how three of you are trauma bounding while you and Cass were sitting down, chewing on snacks or choosing movies to watch, because those hang outs usually happened after patrols, and it was more reasonable to relax. That was just good. Yes, Steph and Cass sometimes fall asleep to your favorite documentaries (Though, Damian who usually was around when you chose the film watched it with you) but it was so domestic and comforting.

All in all, you love your family even more

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Thank you for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think about my work! Hope you have a good day

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