#if you don’t like something just don’t interact

[mooningningg]

あ | "KISSING I HOPE THEY CAUGHT US."

about. he bullies you in the hallways, fucks you stupid in his car, and still fixes your hair after.

pairings. bully!sukuna x fem!reader

word. 3.88k

content. bully!Sukuna, high school setting (aged-up), dubcon vibes, degradation, spitting, rough sex, backshots in a car, mean dirty talk, creampie, overstimulation, hair-pulling, face-grabbing, fingering, breast/ass groping, clit play, tongue kissing, aftercare (rude but sweet), possessiveness, sharp mouth but secretly whipped. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

notes. im ovulating... u can tell.

Sukuna Ryomen was the kind of asshole teachers pretended not to see. He had that reputation—the sort of kid who walked into class late, dropped into his chair with his legs spread obnoxiously wide, and still managed to get away with it because nobody wanted to deal with him. Teachers sighed, classmates shut up, and he basked in it.

And then there was you.

For whatever reason, tormenting you was his favorite extracurricular activity. He wasn’t the type to just shove you in the hallway or copy your homework—no, Sukuna liked to get personal. He’d lean over your desk, crowding you until you could smell the faint tang of smoke clinging to his uniform. He’d tug on the strap of your bra through your shirt when no one was looking, snap it hard enough to make you flinch, then snicker like you were just entertainment.

“Nice panties today, princess,” he’d mutter after “accidentally” brushing his hand against your skirt when squeezing past your desk. He never said it loud enough for others to hear, but just enough to watch you squirm. Half the time he didn’t even hide the way his eyes lingered—like he got off on catching glimpses, cataloging them, storing them away for later.

Everyone else thought he just hated you. That Sukuna Ryomen had found his personal chew toy and wasn’t going to let go until you broke. And yeah—he was cruel. He’d call you stupid, shove your books off the table, whisper in your ear in that gravelly voice just to see the goosebumps rise on your neck. But under all the insults, there was this sick, obsessive edge.

Because Sukuna wasn’t just a bully. He was a pervert.

He knew exactly how to make you nervous, exactly how close to stand, how to bend low so his lips nearly brushed your ear when he spoke. Sometimes he’d steal your pen just to chew on it, eyes flicking to your mouth like he was imagining something worse. Sometimes he’d force you to walk the long way home just because he liked trailing behind you, watching your skirt sway.

The worst part? Half the time he looked mad about it. Like he resented himself for wanting you, and that made him even meaner. He’d sneer after letting his eyes drag over your body, jaw tight, as if to remind himself—and you—that you were beneath him.

Still, he kept coming back. Every damn day.

And you? You let him. You let him torment you, because have you seen the man? He was six feet of pure asshole with muscles, scars that made you wonder how he got them, and a mouth that looked like it only knew how to say cruel shit… or press you against a wall and ruin you.

Sukuna didn’t just bully, he invented new ways to fuck with you.

He’d steal your water bottle in P.E., unscrew the cap, and tip it over his mouth slow, throat bobbing as he drank, staring at you the entire time—then toss it back empty. “Thanks, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I don’t have herpes.”

He’d drop his pencil on the floor just so he could bend down, slide his hand along your calf under the desk, and act innocent when you jerked away. “Relax, I was just grabbing my pencil. Unless you liked that?”

He’d grab your phone in the hallway and hold it above your head, scrolling through your notifications like he owned you. “Wow, no one’s texting you? That’s depressing as fuck.” Then whisper low so only you could hear: “Bet you’d blow me if I said I’d add you to my contacts.”

When teachers called on you to read, he’d mouth obscene shit across the classroom, tongue dragging over his lip, two fingers shaped like a V, just to watch you stumble over your words.

And the worst part? You never said anything. You could’ve told the teacher. You could’ve pushed him off. You could’ve screamed when he crowded you in the back stairwell, one hand braced above your head while the other tugged your skirt just an inch too high. But you didn’t. You froze, you fumbled, you blushed—and he noticed. Every single time.

That smug bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

Because behind every shove, every whispered insult, every “accidental” brush of his knuckles against your thigh—there was a glint in his eye that said he wasn’t doing this to humiliate you. Not really. He was doing it because he couldn’t fucking stop himself.

And if you were being honest? You didn’t stop him because you didn’t want to.

That’s why it was no fucking surprise when you were found in the back of his car, sprawled across torn leather seats, being fucked into oblivion by the same asshole who used to snap your bra straps in homeroom.

The windows fogged up, the cheap pine-tree air freshener swinging violently from the rearview as Sukuna drove his hips into you like he was trying to wreck you on purpose. The car reeked of smoke, sweat, and him—and you were gasping for breath, nails clawing at the cracked upholstery while he laughed against your throat.

“Always knew you were a little slut for me,” he growled, voice low and cruel, one hand pinning your wrists above your head like you were some helpless toy. His other hand gripped your thigh, shoving your leg higher until the stretch burned—but fuck, you couldn’t even think straight anymore.

He didn’t kiss you, not really. He bit. Sharp teeth sinking into the soft skin of your neck, claiming you the same way he claimed every fucking thing—rough, selfish, like he deserved it.

And you let him. You fucking let him.

Because god, Sukuna was huge. His cock was stretching you out in ways you didn’t think were possible, every thrust knocking the breath out of your lungs and making your eyes roll back. He knew it too—the bastard grinned every time you choked on a moan, every time your hips arched off the seat despite how much you hated yourself for wanting it.

“Pathetic,” he hissed in your ear, rutting into you harder, each word punched out by the slam of his hips. “Acting like you don’t like me in class, but look at you now—fuck—taking it so well.”

The car creaked with the violence of it, every movement reckless, every thrust a reminder that he had you exactly where he wanted.

His rhythm turned brutal, the kind of pace that made your brain short-circuit. Every time he bottomed out, the leather squealed under you, and Sukuna laughed—actually laughed—at the mess you were making on his backseat.

“Fuckin’ soaked,” he muttered, dragging his cock out halfway just to slam back in with a wet slap. “And you try to act like you don’t want me? You’re disgusting.”

He spat right where your bodies met, a crude, wet sound that made your face burn, then shoved himself back inside like the saliva was enough lube to make it easier for him to ruin you. “Take it. Take it all.”

When you tried to turn your face away, whimpering, he gripped your jaw hard, squeezing until your lips parted whether you wanted them to or not. His mouth crushed yours, hot and aggressive, tongue forcing its way in. The kiss was messy, mean, all teeth and spit—but it left you gasping for more when he finally pulled away, lips slick with saliva.

“You have no idea what you fuckin’ do to me,” Sukuna rasped, dragging your leg higher over his shoulder until your body folded under him. His eyes flicked down, and his grin sharpened. He pressed one big hand to your stomach, right over the bulge his cock made inside you, forcing you to look at it. “See that? That’s me. That’s how deep I am.”

The sight had you moaning, and he mocked you instantly—throwing his head back, mimicking your breathless little sounds in a high, fake voice. “Oh Sukuna, you’re so big, ohhh.” Then he slammed his hips down harder, voice dropping into a growl. “Shut the fuck up. I’ll make you scream it for real.”

And he did. Every thrust was relentless, his body hunched over yours, sweat dripping down his temples as his chest crushed yours. He kissed you again, filthier this time, tongue forcing its way past your teeth while his cock bullied deeper into you, your entire body rocking with every snap of his hips.

At some point, Sukuna got sick of leaning over you. With a rough grunt, he grabbed you by the waist and flipped you, dragging your body up until you were straddling him in the backseat. The shift was dizzying—one second he was caging you down, the next he was shoving you up,

dragging you onto his lap, his back slouched against the car seat like a king on his throne. One knee spread wide against the door, the other pressed to the opposite seat, he looked every bit the bastard he was—tattoos shifting over his arms, head tipped back with that cocky grin pulling at his mouth.

“C’mon,” he muttered, voice low and gravelly, hands gripping your hips like handles. “Show me what you got. Ride me.”

You braced your hands on his shoulders, heart slamming in your chest as you sank down onto him. His cock stretched you wide, the intrusion brutal, and you could barely catch your breath as you tried to ease yourself slowly onto his lap. The leather squeaked under you, his thighs flexed, and Sukuna’s head lolled back against the seat with a ragged groan.

“Fuck—you’re so tight—” His voice broke, his hand shooting to your waist to steady you. Then you clenched, unintentionally, and his reaction was instant: his grip tightened, teeth bared. “Shit—don’t—fuck—don’t clench on me like that—” He bit off his own words, jaw twitching, eyes snapping open to glare at you like it was your fault he was losing control.

You whimpered, trying to rock your hips, but your pace was hesitant, too slow. Your thighs trembled from the stretch, your body struggling to keep up. You tried, bouncing weakly, but every movement felt clumsy compared to the way he fucked you before.

Sukuna chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “Pathetic,” he drawled, though his voice cracked at the edges, rougher than he meant. His hands slid down to your ass, fingers digging in hard. “You really think that’s riding me? You’re useless.”

And then he thrust upward.

Your whole body jolted, a cry ripping out of you as his cock speared deeper, hitting places you didn’t even know existed. He did it again—harder, sharper—his thighs snapping against yours, his back never leaving the seat as he drove up into you.

“Yeah,” Sukuna grunted, his grin sharp and filthy, “that’s more like it. You sit there, pretty little thing, and I’ll do the real work. Lazy slut—look at you, bouncing like you were made for this cock.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving red trails across his skin as his pace grew ruthless. He caught your chin in one rough hand, forcing your face to his, and crashed his mouth onto yours. The kiss was all tongue and spit, aggressive and wet, his teeth biting down on your lip as his hips never slowed.

He broke away with a laugh that sounded more like a growl, his forehead pressing to yours. “Every time you squeeze around me—fuck—I can feel it. You’re strangling my dick, you know that?” His thrusts grew sharper, seatbelt buckles clattering against the door from the force. “You’ll make me lose my shit, keep clenching like that.”

The car shook with every brutal snap of his hips, his cock splitting you open while your body melted against him. And all you could do was hold on, gasping into his mouth as he fucked up into you, mocking you with your own moans between every breath.

Your body was nothing but tremors and moans, sprawled across Sukuna’s chest, skin sticking to his from sweat. You could barely hold yourself up anymore—your face was buried against his neck, hair plastered to your cheek, every sound that left your throat muffled against his hot skin.

But Sukuna wasn’t slowing down. Not for a second.

Every thrust of his hips ricocheted through your bones, his cock driving into you so deep the damn seat shuddered beneath you. Your thighs trembled uselessly at his sides, spread wide over his lap, the stretch brutal.

“Listen to that,” he rasped, sweat dripping from his temple into your hair, his mouth hovering against your ear. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed in the car, obscene and endless. “So fucking messy. You’re soaking me like a goddamn whore.”

His hand cupped your breast, rough fingers pinching your nipple until you cried out, the sound breaking against his throat. He chuckled, leaning down to suck harshly at your chest, his teeth dragging sharp over your skin before sinking in. “Sensitive, huh? Knew it,” he muttered, voice vibrating against your flesh as he left his mark.

You whimpered, but he wasn’t having it. His hand caught your jaw, forcing your mouth open as he shoved two thick fingers past your lips. “Shut the fuck up,” he growled, watching your lips stretch around him. “C’mon, bite me. Do it.” He pushed deeper until you gagged, then yanked them out, spit stringing from your tongue. His smirk was vicious as he slapped your cheek lightly with the wet hand. “Good girl. I knew you liked being used.”

The other hand slid down your stomach, calloused knuckles pressing rough against your clit. The jolt had you gasping into his chest, thighs clenching, but Sukuna only laughed, rolling the sensitive bud with cruel precision.

“Feel that? You squeeze me tighter every time I touch you here.” His hips slammed upward to prove his point, cock punching the air from your lungs. “Jesus christ. You can’t even fucking hide it.”

Your moans spilled against his neck, broken and helpless, and Sukuna swallowed them greedily when he dragged your face up and crushed his mouth to yours. His tongue shoved past your lips, messy and possessive, while he pounded harder, faster, your whole body shaking against him.

“Take it,” he snarled, voice frayed and feral, his thrusts violent enough that your ass left the seat with each snap of his hips. Your back hit the roof once, hard, and he just laughed, grinding deeper until your stomach bulged around him. “Take every inch, fuck—stop strangling my cock or I’m gonna—” His words broke into a curse, teeth sinking into your shoulder as his hips hammered up again and again.

The windows ran with condensation, the car stinking of sweat, sex, and smoke. Sukuna’s mouth dragged down your throat, sucking and biting until your skin bloomed with bruises, while his fingers rubbed your clit ruthlessly.

“Don’t think lying here all fucked-out means you’re in control,” he gritted, every thrust jarring your limp body higher against him. “This is my pace. My cock. My fucking rules.”

And he was right—because at that point, your body wasn’t yours anymore. It was his playground, his outlet, his mess to ruin. And he laughed, low and mean against your ear, as he drove you even deeper into oblivion.

Sukuna manhandled you like a ragdoll, flipping you onto your stomach across the backseat so fast your head smacked the door. The leather squeaked under your skin as he shoved your face down, his palm heavy on the back of your skull, forcing your cheek against the sticky seat.

“Face down, ass up,” he growled, voice thick with sadistic glee. “Don’t make me say it twice.”

Your knees scrambled against the cramped floorboard, back arched awkwardly, ass in the air. He didn’t give you a second to adjust. A wet spit hit your cunt, hot and obscene, and then his cock was there, smearing it in, pushing the mess inside along with him in one sharp, ruthless thrust.

You screamed against the leather, the sound muffled, your whole body jerking forward from the force.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Sukuna hissed, one hand locked onto your hip, the other braced on the fogged-up window. The car creaked with every slam of his hips, each thrust a violent clap of skin. “Messy little slut—your pussy’s eating me alive.”

He pounded into you mercilessly, backshots so deep you felt him in your stomach. Every rut had your ass smacking against his pelvis, the wet slap echoing in the confined space. The car actually rocked on its suspension, windows dripping with condensation, filling with the smell of sweat, sex, and leather.

“Too much,” you choked, voice raw, fingers clawing at the seat beneath you. “Sukuna, please—fuck—it’s too much!”

His laugh was mean and breathless, teeth flashing as he leaned down, chest pressed against your back. “Too much? You sound like you’re about to cum all over my cock. Don’t bullshit me.” He spat again, letting it dribble down your spine, and smeared it across your skin with his thumb like he owned you.

The angle had him hitting so deep your knees gave out, but he held you up by the hips, slamming harder, grinding into you until your ass stung. His cock dragged every inch of your walls raw, his pace relentless, every thrust nastier than the last.

“Fuck, this pussy,” he groaned, voice cracking, losing composure as his hips snapped faster, rougher.

You sobbed into the seat, body trembling, begging again—but Sukuna didn’t stop. He grabbed your hair, yanking your head back just so he could hear you whimper louder.

Then he broke. With a guttural curse, Sukuna slammed one final time, cock burying to the hilt as he came inside you, hot and deep, his hips grinding forward to spill every drop. He held you there, cock twitching inside your spasming cunt, making sure it all stayed in.

“Yeah,” he panted against your ear, voice low and smug. “That’s mine. Marked you from the inside out. Anyone who looks at you is gonna fucking know it.”

You lay there trembling, face pressed into the sticky leather, his weight pinning you down, his cum dripping out and soaking into the car seat. And Sukuna? He just smirked, chest heaving, cock still buried in you like he had no plans to pull out anytime soon.

Sukuna didn’t pull out right away. No—he stayed buried deep, grinding slow, filthy circles with his hips just to feel you twitch and leak around him. Every time you thought he was done, he shoved himself forward again, forcing his cum deeper until you whimpered into the leather seat.

“Fuck, look at you,” he rasped, nails digging into your hips. His thrusts weren’t hard now, but insistent, pushing his mess back inside every time it tried to spill out. “Your cunt doesn’t even wanna let me go. Greedy little thing.”

You gasped, weak and broken, your thighs trembling as he rutted lazily. “S-Sukuna… please, I can’t anymore—”

“Can’t what?” he snapped, punctuating it with another sharp push that made your whole body jolt. “Can’t take my cock? Can’t take my cum? Too fucking bad. You asked for this, brat.”

You sobbed into the seat, clenching helplessly around him. That seemed to be enough for him. Finally, with a low groan, he eased out, hot spend spilling freely between your thighs. You thought he’d laugh at the mess—but instead, his palm smoothed down your back, steady, grounding.

“Hey.” His voice was rough, but not cruel this time. “C’mere.”

Before you could collapse, he scooped you up, pulling you into his lap like you were fragile. You blinked up at him, dazed, lips parted as your chest rose and fell against his. Sukuna brushed damp strands of hair off your face, thumb grazing your temple like it was second nature.

“You okay, baby?” he asked, quiet enough that it almost didn’t sound like him. His forehead pressed briefly to yours, heavy breaths mingling.

Your throat worked around a dry swallow. “…y-yeah. Just… tired.”

“Tired, huh?” His mouth curved, somewhere between a smirk and something softer. His hand cradled the back of your head, thumb stroking gently against your scalp. “No shit. You’re lucky you can even walk after that.”

You let out a weak laugh, more a puff of breath, your face burying in his chest. “You’re such an asshole.”

He huffed, a sound that might’ve been a chuckle, his arm tightening around you. “Yeah, maybe. But I take care of what’s mine.”

And that was it—no more cruelty, no more taunts, just Sukuna holding you close in the sweltering car, his breath hot against the top of your head while his thumb kept tracing soft circles against your hip.

The windows were still fogged, the car reeking of sex and sweat, your body a trembling mess slumped across his chest. Sukuna sat back against the seat, big hand spread lazily across your lower back, the other stroking idly through your hair like it was instinct.

You shifted weakly, wincing at the soreness between your legs. “...You’re such a fucking dick,” you whispered, voice hoarse.

He snorted, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Tch. Big words for someone who just let me rearrange their guts in the backseat.” His palm slid down to squeeze your ass, sharp enough to make you jolt. “Don’t forget you were begging for it.”

“Was not,” you muttered, cheeks burning as you buried your face in his neck.

“Yeah? Then what was all that whining, huh? Crying for me to stop while your pussy was strangling my cock?” His laugh was cruel, but his fingers kept combing gently through your hair, untangling sweaty strands. “Don’t bullshit me.”

You groaned in embarrassment, trying to hide deeper in his chest. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” he said simply, almost soft. His hand smoothed down your spine again, slow and steady. “And you’re fucked. For putting up with me. For liking it.”

You peeked up at him, lips swollen, eyes hazy. “…You don’t hate me?”

His grin was sharp, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He thumbed at your cheek, almost tender. “Hate you? Baby, if I hated you, I wouldn’t be wasting my time fixing your hair after fucking you stupid.”

You blinked, taken aback by the honesty buried under the bite of his words.

Sukuna leaned in, his forehead bumping yours, his mouth brushing against your swollen lips. “I’ll say it once—so don’t make me repeat myself. You’re mine. My brat. My fuckin’ problem. And yeah, I’ll ruin you every chance I get, but…” His voice dipped, softer, dangerous in a different way. “…I’ll be the one holding you after, too. Got it?”

You nodded, small and shaky, and his smirk returned as he tugged you closer, pressing his mouth hard against yours—rough kiss, tongue and teeth, but the hand at the back of your neck never stopped stroking gently.

That was Sukuna, through and through. The bully who spit venom and fucked you raw, but still carried you out of the car afterward with your clothes half-fixed and your hair tucked behind your ear, muttering shit under his breath like, “Don’t fall asleep yet, dumbass. I’m not done with you.”

Hardest fucker. Softest touch. Always mean. Always yours.

[jj-one]

EPISODE 2: SHE SAID I WAS A VIRGIN ON VC, SO I RUINED HER HOLES UNTIL THE WHOLE FLOOR KNEW MY NAME!

this is smut, do not interact if under 18

you swore you’d never fuck a gamer virgin. he swore he’d never fold for a sanrio girl. then you found out you live two doors apart, and now you’re at each other’s dorms at 3 am to settle your “rivalry.”

pairing: gamer!yang jeongin x gamer!f!reader, fake enemies to lovers genre/tags: college au, smut with some plot ig, dumb gamer terminology, my shitty humor (as always), jeongin’s irrational fear of sanrio girls, virgin!jeongin, sexting on discord, mutual masturbation, fingering, oral (m + f receiving), overstimulation, unprotected s*x, switch!jeongin, spit kink?, multiple positions, idk what horny demon possessed me to make this tbh….. words: 13.2k

[ note. ] — it’s been a while since i put out a new fic (kinda) but i’m happy i’m finished w this ! *btw, this is the second installment of my nerd!skz series, check out my first one if you haven’t already but you don’t have to read it to know any context since they’re all stand alone fics. lmk what y’all think <3

Throughout his life, Jeongin has always considered himself as a late bloomer. Frustratingly late. Painfully late. He’s reached a point where all he wants to do is crawl under his desk and remain there for the rest of his life. And yeah, maybe that’s melodramatic, but it’s hard not to feel humiliated when your cock is hard more often than it isn’t, and the only action it’s getting is from your own goddamn hand.

Horny. Always horny. Distractingly horny. He could be sitting in lecture, pretending to take notes, then out of nowhere his brain would malfunction because some girl up in the third row bent over to pick up a pen. He could be doing his laundry, pulling out a wrinkled hoodie, and suddenly his dick would twitch like Pavlov’s dog at the thought of someone else wearing it. He could be gaming, headset on, grinding ranked like his life depended on it— and suddenly he’d lose focus because some streamer moaned in the background. The truth was ugly: Jeongin was perpetually ready to fuck, with no one willing to let him.

He didn’t get his first kiss until nineteen. Nineteen. Practically prehistoric in college standards. Meanwhile everybody he knew was damn near getting some on the daily— hookups after frat parties, sneaky links between classes, messy situationships that ended in groupchat rants. Jeongin would sit there in voice call, muted, pretending he wasn’t silently suffering while his right hand was his most loyal girlfriend. He lived in a permanent state of post nut clarity, except there was never any clarity, just the same depressing cycle of lust and disappointment.

Porn tabs served as his white noise. He swore he knew half of the top trending actors by name, could identify the production watermarks, and could quote videos line by line like they were classics. His feed bombarded him with recommendations of everything he wasn’t getting; step-this, roommate-that, the kind of wild shit he couldn’t imagine happening to him in ten lifetimes. His life wasn’t messy, it was monotonous.

Study, game, jerk off, repeat.

It wasn’t like he was a complete loser. He had friends, attended class, even received the occasional invite to a party. But when it came to women, something short-circuited. Talking to girls wasn’t impossible, but keeping them interested? Forget it. Somewhere between the awkward jokes, nervous laughs, and the way he hyper-fixated on whatever game he was currently playing, girls just… lost interest. He’d tried everything. Different cologne, new clothes, ditching the cheap graphic tees in favor of button-downs, even growing his hair out, because apparently girls were into that now. But it didn’t matter. He still got no pussy.

And what made it even worse? His roommate, Han Jisung, arguably one of the nerdiest, most socially inept guys Jeongin had ever met—blinked and somehow ended up in a relationship. And not just with some ordinary girl. No, Jisung bagged one of the hottest girls on campus. Jeongin didn’t know how it happened. Divine intervention? Blackmail? A pact with the devil? He didn’t care. He was salty.

So he was determined. If Jisung could do it then so could he.

Except dating apps were a hard no. His friends hounded him about Tinder, Bumble, even the lesser known apps but designed for “real connections”, but Jeongin refused. He wanted to meet someone the “normal” way, not through swiping like he was picking groceries. Except “normal” wasn’t cutting it. Normal left him alone in his room, headset denting his hair, grinding ranked games till the sun came up.

Gaming was the only place Jeongin almost felt like he wasn’t a total fuck-up. Behind the screen, he wasn’t the guy who still hadn’t gotten laid and couldn’t hold a girl’s attention longer than a lecture. Here, he was sharp, quick with insults, cocky when he was winning and ruthless when he was losing. It was the one place he had control— until you showed up.

One of his mutuals invited him in this late night Discord server, it wasn’t unusual, though he’ll rarely ever talk in them. He’d interact maybe once or twice a day but half the time the chat was muted. But when someone dropped a message saying ‘need one more for league’ he didn’t hesitate to join. The lobby loaded, four mics lit up green, someone coughed loudly into theirs. And the first words you ever said to him weren’t a hello— they were, “holy shit, how do you miss that? Are you blind?”

It should’ve rolled right off his back, but instead it ignited something in him. He fired back immediately, some petty remark laced with sarcasm, and that was it. That was the start. From then on, every match turned into a war zone. The endless infighting, name calling over voice chat, the sniping for trivial kill-steals in match, it should have been grating. Instead, it became addicting.

Because beneath all the shit-talk, Jeongin couldn’t get you off his mind no matter how hard he tried. There was something about the way your voice dipped when you got serious, the way you laughed out loud when you killed him in the game, and somehow managed to sound hotter than any girl he’d ever met in person. He’d never admit it though, not when you called him a “useless jungler” every other match, but with every cutting word out of your mouth, the more he’d wanted you.

And it killed him. Because he was still the late bloomer, the lonely virgin whose sex life consisted of incognito tabs and an increasingly overworked wrist. You were just another reminder of what he couldn’t have… except, maybe this time, he had a chance to change that.

+

Jeongin slumped back in his gaming chair with the overwhelming confidence of a man who definitely hadn’t just missed smite on dragon. The HP bar was gone, the pit was empty, and his jungle dignity has long since evaporated with the last chance of winning this match. The condensation from his third energy drink of the night slowly bled into his mousepad, but it wasn’t like he was paying much attention. He was too busy flaming the shit out of you.

“Jesus, kitty, do you even know what you’re doing, or are you just sightseeing?” He snapped, lips stained slightly blue from his gamer fuel of choice, some cursed flavor that tasted like artificial blueberry and pure regret. It was 1 am but he was fully awake, jittery from all the copious amounts of caffeine he consumed, eyes darting to the scoreboard as he anxiously ran a hand through his hair.

You scoffed so loud it boomed through his headset, practically rupturing his eardrums.

“Okay, Mr. Iron Elo, you wanna talk rotations when you haven’t warded once all game?” Your voice was venom wrapped in sugar, the kind of tone that would make most people want to mute their mic.

All except for Jeongin, of course.

Because everytime you insulted him, dragged him through the dirt, his cock stirred in his sweats like it had a personal vendetta. And he hated it. Hated how emasculating it was, sitting there rock hard over being called useless, virgin, dogshit at gaming. But he couldn’t stop. The sound of your taunting voice had wormed it’s way under his skin like some sick dopamine hit, maybe this was some demented kink he had and no one told him yet.

His mic crackled with frustration as he slammed the keyboard for the hundredth time that match. “I swear to fucking god, if you int one more dragon fight—” he grits through clenched teeth, sounding reminiscent of a raging little kid that just got his Roblox privileges revoked. “Are you on something, or are you just this bad at playing?”

“Bruh,” you shot back instantly, “I was literally 1v3 and still doing more than your busted ass jungle routes. You’re playing like someone trying to unlock the clown skin.”

Jeongin’s jaw tightens as his champion exploded on screen— again. “If you flash into tower one more time I’m throwing out my ps5 and flying to your house to break your keyboard.”

“Do it. At least then you’d be useful for once,” you laugh, egging him on further. “Maybe if you stopped speedrunning how to disappoint your team, we’d be winning.”

From across the room, Jisung groaned loudly, chucking a cheeto directly at Jeongin’s head, where it bounced off with a sad little puff. “Oh my god, can you two stop dry humping each other through voice chat for five minutes? Some of us are trying to watch Spy x Family in peace!”

Jeongin didn’t even flinch. “Suck it, Jisung.”

“Awww, is that your roommate?” You cut in sweetly, then dropping the innocent act altogether. “Tell him I said your mic sounds like poverty and you’re built like a hot pocket left in the microwave for too long.”

He stifled a laugh— barely. No way in hell was he giving you the satisfaction of knowing you’re actually funny.

“I’m built like a challenger-tier jungler, actually,” he quickly retorts, dodging another in-game gank. “Which is more than I can say for your support play. You miss more stuns than I miss serotonin.”

You hummed with mock sympathy. “Poor thing…no serotonin, no map awareness, no bitches.”

“You’re the definition of human repellent,” he seethed, tilting his head back in disbelief.

“And you act like someone who’s never touched a woman. Like, ever. Honestly? You give off 21-year-old virgin energy.”

That one landed like a critical hit— but his dick had a different reaction. Stiffening so suddenly it ached, straining for attention. It should’ve shut him up, humiliated him into silence, instead he doubled down.

“I could 1v1 you in real life and still come out on top,” he muttered, cheeks burning even though you couldn’t see him.

“Oh no, he’s mad now,” you cooed, voice dripping with faux concern. “Did I bruise your fragile little gamer ego, sweetheart? Poor thing probably hasn’t even been inside a Build-A-Bear, let alone a—”

“Okay,” Jeongin cuts you off, “first of all, Build-A-Bear is a respectable establishment. Second, you wouldn’t last a single round if we took this offline.”

“Oh? You threatening to fold me in real life?” You kept on with your teasing spree, your tone dropping even lower, dangerous in a way that made his stomach do backflips. “Be careful. You might find out I’m not just good with a mouse.”

Jeongin had to mute. Had to pace his room, hard as fuck, while his Sasuke pfp glowed on Discord next to your cutesy Hello Kitty avi. He’d called you “kitty” once as a joke and now it was like a loaded gun he kept firing at himself. Everytime he said it, you doubled down harder. Everytime you cooked him, his cock twitched like it wanted more. It was embarrassing. Degrading. Yet, he couldn’t get enough.

Jisung peeked over the top of his monitor with one eyebrow raised.“Yo, you good? You’re breathing like you just got jumped by three e-girls.”

“She’s insufferable,” Jeongin mumbled before yanking his headset back on, “and she’s not even good.”

Five seconds later though, he’s unmuted and back in the game like nothing even happened.

You both kept going at it for hours— you roasting him alive with every death on the kill feed, while he’s half arguing, half foaming at the mouth. When the match finally ended (a loss, because of course it was), neither of you wanted to call it a night just yet.

That’s when your phone dings, alerting you of a notification from Discord, a new message.

pussydemonslay3r: ggs u absolute trashcan my 60 year old grandma can play better than u

A smirk tugs at your lips, thumbs already flying.

kittykushqueen: like u were any better 💀 rematch or are u scared i’ll sit on ur face next round?

His hand jerked up immediately, adjusting his glasses to make sure he read that correctly.

“…What the fuck,” he muttered under his breath, instantly taken aback. He craned his neck to look over at Jisung’s gaming chair like someone might catch him reading it. He swore he felt it in his knees.

pussydemonslay3r: ur so annoying queue up again before i block and report u for emotional damage

kittykushqueen: oh nooo 😢 did the scary sanrio girl ruin ur kd and dick game in the same night?

Even the mods in the server were so done with both of your antics. One of them was some guy known as ‘The Wizard’, types in the chat:

THE_W1Z4RD: get a room or a private channel damn we tryna queue not third wheel your e-sex chats

You didn’t reply. Jeongin didn’t either.

Because you were already messaging each other privately. Staying up until 4 am like either of you didn’t have classes to go to in the morning.

+

The very next day, like clockwork, you’re both back on the game at 10 pm sharp. The lobby countdown hadn’t even finished ticking down, the map was still blurry on the loading screen, but you were already at each other’s throats, per usual.

“Can you please stop auto-pathing into tower range like it’s your safe space?” Jeongin grumbled. His tone carried the same sharp irritation he always seemed to reserve just for you, though his voice cracked slightly at the end. It hadn’t even been a full five minutes yet and already you had him tense in his chair, fingers white-knuckling his mouse. He shifted in his seat, one knee bouncing, headset pressing warm against his ears as he glanced at the minimap. He wanted to focus, but his attention kept flicking back to comms, waiting for your comeback.

You didn’t make him wait long.

“That’s rich coming from a guy who only picks jungle because he likes the feeling of being unreasonably blamed for everyone else’s bad decisions.”

Jeongin huffed, leaning forward, elbows planted on his desk. “That’s literally the point of jungle.”

“Yeah, and so is compensating for a lack of pussy.”

The words felt like a slap. Jeongin froze, blinking at the screen while his hand hovered over his keyboard. His mouth opened, then closed, as if his brain had to reboot before responding. Never in his life would he think he’d be getting owned by some random Discord girl with a Sanrio obsession of all things.

“…Are you done?” He muttered, trying to act bored, though the stiffness in his voice gave him away.

You giggled, a cruel, bubbling sound that made his stomach knot.“Not even close. You’re such a pussy, by the way. Bet you’ve never even been inside one.”

“I’ve had multiple opportunities, actually!” His voice raised in defense, though it sounded a lot more desperate than confident.

“Are the ‘multiple opportunities’ in the room with us?” You couldn’t even take him seriously, parroting his words in a singsong tone that sent you straight into a fit of cackles.

His cheeks flamed, hands jittering as he dragged his mouse too far across the desk, overshooting a gank. His champion whiffed and exploded in the kill feed. “Shut the hell up,” he hissed, “I don’t see you pulling anyone either, kitty.”

The nickname made your laughter cut short. “Stop calling me that.”

“What? Kitty?” He repeated, getting more arrogant now, leaning into the mic just to make sure it was loud in your headset. “Fits you perfectly. Cute, whiny, claws out all the time.”

Your whole body betrayed you the second those words landed, the heat crawling up your neck making your skin prickle. It was ridiculous, really— barely a minute ago he was mocking your rotations and calling your gameplay mid, the same cocky bite to his voice that always made you want to snap back twice as hard.

And now? Now you were blushing in front of your PC like some schoolgirl, fingers stiff on the keys while your mind spun over a dumb petname he probably didn’t even think twice about. You didn’t let it show, though. Your laugh had already come and gone, and you smoothed your voice back into something flatter, more casual, like his little jab hadn’t just turned you inside out. Because if there’s one thing worse than letting Jeongin rile you, it’s letting him know he actually got under your skin.

“You’re projecting. You’re the one whining.” You try your best to act all nonchalant, as if him calling you cute wasn’t the highlight of your entire night.

“Better whining than mauled by bronze mechanics,” he fired back, grabbing for his Monster can like he needed to steady himself. The carbonation fizzed out as he cracked it open too hard, foam spilling over his fingers and dripping onto his pants. He cursed under his breath and tried to shake his hand dry without pausing the match.

“Don’t get pissy just ‘cause I’ve got better map awareness and tits you’ll never see,” you purred, ulting the kill right out from under him. “Sounds like a skill issue. Maybe try playing with both hands next time, virgin.”

He rolled his eyes at that last comment, the fact you called him that more than his own name was becoming a constant reminder of his sad reality.

“You act like I’ve never seen tits before..”

“Stop the cap,” you spoke dryly, “I know you haven’t.”

“I have seen real tits,” he insisted, sitting up straighter, as if posture alone could make him more believable.

“Whose? Yours in the mirror? The anatomically correct ones in your biology textbook? Don’t say hentai. Don’t you dare say hentai.”

His throat worked around a dry swallow. “You’re not funny..”

“I’m hilarious,” you countered immediately, tone dripping with mock authority. “Say it. Call me mommy.”

He choked. Like, actually choked on his drink. You could hear it through his mic; the ragged cough, the muted thud of his knee colliding with his desk.

“…Excuse me?” He rasped, voice raw from his previous coughing fit.

“You heard me.” You state confidently, dragging out the syllables for even more dramatic effect. “I carried lane, saved your kill-streak, and emotionally dismantled you in under five minutes. Call me mommy.”

Jeongin stared at his screen, wide-eyed, body buzzing with an energy he didn’t know how to contain. His cock strained miserably in his sweatpants, and he squeezed his thighs together under the desk, wondering if uninstalling League could also uninstall this feeling of profound confusion and arousal.

“I’d rather rawdog a ranked climb in bronze for the rest of my life,” he muttered weakly.

You chuckled. “I know you say it in your sleep, don’t lie.”

He didn’t answer. He physically couldn’t. His brain was split between the flashing screen and the heat curling in his gut.

You hit tab, checking stats. His death count had mysteriously spiked during that exchange, his scoreline uglier than it had any right to be.“Poor baby Jeongie. Losing LP and composure.”

Jeongin groaned again, dragging both hands down his face, pressing the heels of his palms hard into his eyes. “God, you are the most infuriating person I’ve ever met.”

“And yet, you haven’t logged off once.”

He doesn’t respond, jaw clenched, throat too tight. His cursor hovered, chest rising and falling way too fast. He exhaled, dragged his hand across the desk, and finally gave in to the pull that’s been gnawing at him since last night.

He typed straight into your DMs, fingers twitching with something he didn’t want to name.

pussydemonslay3r: u talk all this shit online but irl i’d shut u up so fast

kittykushqueen: baby u wouldn’t shut me up. u’d ruin ur headset from how hard u’d be panting 😘

pussydemonslay3r: …

His stomach lurched as he sat there frozen, hand tightening around his mouse so hard it squeaked against the pad. He hated how fast his cock responded to a line of text, because it practically jumped like it had been waiting for you to type that. Thank god Jisung wasn’t here right now, otherwise he would’ve been royally fucked.

He tilted forward slightly, pressing his knees together as if that could hide how hard he was getting, but it only made it worse— he could feel the outline straining against his sweats. His face was hot, cheeks flushed in the glow of his monitor, but he refused to let you have the satisfaction of knowing he was already on the edge from a single fucking message.

kittykushqueen: gg btw even tho i carried ur loser ass all game

pussydemonslay3r: ur delusional i literally saved ur lane, again

kittykushqueen: lmao wtv just admit u wanna kiss me or smth i’ll wait

His throat went dry all over again, a soundless laugh leaving him. He shifts uncomfortably, dragging his palm slowly across the thigh of his joggers, hovering just close enough to relieve the pressure without fully giving in.

You were baiting him, and unfortunately, it was working.

pussydemonslay3r: u think i’m that easy? 💀

kittykushqueen: i know u’re that easy u’re one dm away from folding like a lawn chair

He stared at your message for a long second, his lip caught between his teeth. His cock pulsed, already sticky at the tip from the way he’d been grinding his thighs together. He could feel it throbbing everytime his heart raced. He should’ve stopped, should’ve shut his PC, but instead his fingers typed the dumbest thing they could.

pussydemonslay3r: prove it

He shouldn’t have said that, because his entire body went rigid the second he hit send. Minutes later, a ‘photo incoming’ bar crawled across his screen and his whole body stiffens.

One image attachment. No caption. No warning.

He clicked it and his mind went blank almost immediately.

It wasn’t full-on nudes per se, but it didn’t need to be. It was worse, if that’s somehow possible. You were splayed out on your bed, the glow of purple LED lights painting your skin, legs casually spread wide enough that the camera had captured the perfect angle. The thin tank top you wore barely covered anything, straps sliding off your shoulder. No bra. Just the faintest hint of your nipples pressing through the fabric, the curve of your thighs up front and center, and one hand resting suspiciously low below your waistband.

Your face wasn’t even visible, just your lips, parted like you’d been moaning into your phone before you took it. Your other hand held the camera steady.

Jeongin’s hands flew off his keyboard as if it burned him. He didn’t type. Didn’t blink. Just sat there, completely motionless, trying to process whether or not any of this was actually real. His eyes stayed glued to the screen, wide and unblinking, his breath coming out in short, shallow bursts through his nose. His headset was still on, but the game noise had turned to static in his ears. All he could hear was the pounding of his own pulse.

And maybe you knew the effect this would’ve had on him, because when he took too long to respond, two more notifications light up his screen.

kittykushqueen: don’t tell me u nutted already i barely even showed u anything lawl

He jolted, dragging one shaky hand down his face. His cock was rock solid now, pressing tight against the front of his sweats, precum sticking damp against the fabric. He swallowed hard, adjusting himself, his hand lingering at his crotch as he tried to steady his breathing enough to finally type back.

pussydemonslay3r is typing…

can’t even give me 5 secs jfc

But before he hit send, he snapped a picture. He didn’t even think. His body was on autopilot, every nerve in his system begging him to match what you’d just done. So he leaned back in his chair, one hand sliding under his waistband to wrap around himself. He palmed his cock slowly, biting back a groan when his fingers curled around the base. It didn’t take much to get fully hard; he already was. His sweatpants slipped low enough to reveal the flushed skin at the base, his fist loose around the shaft. His tip was wet, leaking across his thumb from the single pump he gave himself just to make it look right. His shirt had ridden up a little in the process, baring the strip of toned stomach that always made his mirror selfies look better than they should.

He takes the picture, his jaw clenched tight, hair messy from how many times he’d run his hand through it tonight. He stared at it for half a second then sent it.

[One attachment.]

No caption.

You opened it instantly.

kittykushqueen: oh u a freak for real look at u all hard just from a lil cleavage.. embarrassing

Usually, a snide little comment like that would’ve sent him over the edge, but right now he was too horny to care, and his hand squeezed tighter around his cock in reflex. His breath grew uneven, the t-shirt he wore stuck to his back with sweat. He tried to calm himself down, tried to think of a witty comeback before you could tell he was already unraveling. His thumb swiped over the sticky bead at his tip, spreading it down his shaft as he clumsily typed with his left hand.

pussydemonslay3r: ur one to talk u sent me a softcore thirst trap like it was ur steam pfp

His message blinked into the chat, but he was barely able to focus on it. His eyes kept flicking between his hand stroking himself slow, and the glow of your name lighting up when you started typing again.

kittykushqueen: softcore??? bitch my hand was in my panties

Jeongin’s practically hyperventilating. He shifted lower in his chair, sweatpants pulled to his thighs now, fist moving steadily along his cock. He hissed under his breath, the sound slipping out before he could stop it. The image of your fingers tucked under your waistband, actually touching yourself while baiting him in chat, made his hips jerk up into his palm.

pussydemonslay3r: not low enough bet u got soaked just from imagining me looking at it

The second he hit send, silence. No instant reply. No cackling emoji spam. Just the empty space of the chat window waiting for you.

He swallowed hard, the pause making him more frantic. He throbbed in his hand, while his other hovered over the keyboard, ready to type something else just to break the tension. The silence stretched long enough that he couldn’t keep still, thighs trembling uncontrollably.

Then your reply landed.

kittykushqueen: i am soaked. do u wanna see or are u gonna keep acting like a bitch in voice chat

Jeongin let out a shaky exhale, head slowly falling back against the seat. Twitching violently in his fist, precum dribbling down his knuckles. He closed his eyes for a second, taking in steady breathes, but it was useless. He was losing it.

This was hell and heaven all at once. This was everything he’d been missing, everything all those endless porn tabs had failed to give him. The connection, the sting of your voice in his ear, the way his name on your lips could make him lose all his composure.

He should’ve logged off, shut his PC down, taken a cold shower, and gone to sleep.

Instead, he types:

pussydemonslay3r: video prove it and if u moan my name i’ll win this next match with my dick out

The moment he pressed enter, he knew he’d fucked up. His hand grew tighter around his cock, pumping slow as if he was bracing himself for what’s to come.

Then the ‘recording’ notification popped up on your end.

His entire body tensed, staring at the screen, dick so unbearably hard he had to squeeze it to keep from groaning. He was already halfway gone, he’d probably burst on the spot just from one video alone.

The three dots danced once.

Stopped.

Started again.

His heartbeat thundered.

[Attachment: 1 video. No caption.]

Jeongin almost felt his airways close in on him. His fingers trembling on the mouse. For a moment he hesitated, staring at the file, sweat rolling down his temple. Then he clicked.

The video filled his screen.

Short. Filthy. And absolutely devastating.

You were still lying back on your bed, tank top pushed up now, exposing your chest— nipples hard, skin flushed, one hand between your legs, fingers slow and lazy as you circled your clit through soaking panties. You didn’t speak, but you moaned, soft and drawn out, ending on a shaky little sigh as your hips rolled into your own touch. The camera wavered slightly in your grip. At the very end, you breathed one word, barely audible:

“Jeongin..”

He snapped.

Every ounce of restraint shattered. His fist was working overtime, pumping harder, hips jerking up to meet the motion. He was leaking all over his knuckles, smearing it with every slick stroke. His thighs wouldn’t stop shaking under the desk, chair creaking with how hard he shifted against it, bucking shamelessly as he tried to stay quiet— but it was already too late. A shaky groan left him, desperate and hoarse, like he’d been holding it back all night. His vision blurred at the edges, all focus zeroed in on the video replaying on his screen.

pussydemonslay3r: fuck. ur voice say it again moan my name again while u touch that messy lil pussy

Your typing bubble popped up instantly.

kittykushqueen: mm i will if u stroke that pretty cock for me, baby i wanna hear how nasty u get when ur mic isn’t on push-to-talk

Jeongin’s chest heaved, his free hand wiping the sweat off his forehead, his grip pumping faster. He could barely manage to type anymore, every word shaking as he pressed on the keyboard harder than necessary.

pussydemonslay3r: hop on vc now

He yanked his headset back on, nearly tangling the cord in his panic, adjusting the mic with wobbly hands. His palms were damp, his cock still painfully hard and aching against his stomach. He fumbled with Discord settings, clicking through until the private voice channel opened. His chest rose and fell in fast, shallow bursts.

There was a moment of awkward silence. He could hear his own shaky breathing echo in his headset, the faint click of your mic on the other end.

Then your voice slid through, smug and breathy, thick with arousal. “So quiet now. Where’s all that shit talk, virgin boy?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jeongin muttered— but his voice cracked halfway through it, and you giggled, soft but menacing, like you already knew how hard he was, how close he was, how wrecked he sounded.

“What’re you doing?” you cooed. “Jerking off to my voice? To my moans? Bet you’re leaking all over your hand like a good little loser.”

He let out a strangled sound, breathing hard. “Fucking- yes. Yes, I am. Happy?”

Your answering moan nearly made him cum right then and there. Quiet but lethal, your fingers clearly moving faster now on your end, the wet squelch of your pussy audible through the mic. The sound filled his ears, shameless and intimate, drowning out the game, his room, everything else.

“Put the mic closer,” he growled suddenly, the command tearing out of him before he could stop it.

“Say please.”

“Fuck you.”

“Then beg.”

He cursed under his breath. You could heat the creaky sound of his gaming chair as he shifted forward along with some faint rustling in the background, then his mic shifted.

And then you heard it— the wet drag of his fist stroking his cock, slow at first, then faster, messier. He groaned directly into the mic this time, not holding back. No filter. No push-to-talk.

Just Jeongin, raw and undone.

“Fucking ruined by you,” he muttered, voice low and broken. His breathing hitched with every stroke. “Always run your mouth like you’re not just as desperate. Bet your fingers aren’t even enough right now. You want me to fill you up so bad, don’t you?”

“God- yes,” you let out a high-pitched gasp, picking up your pace. “I want your cock so deep I can’t even talk shit anymore. Wanna be so full I forget what rank I am.”

Jeongin’s hips bucked harder against his hand, leaking all over his abs, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his rhythm sped.

“Say my name again,” he demanded, aching for more. “Say it like you did in the video.”

You whined his name in his ear, soft and dirty, completely destroying him. He grunted, increasing his stamina, thighs tensing as he imagined your mouth on him, your voice in his ear, your pussy clenching around him like that.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warned. “If you moan like that again, I’m- fuck- ’m gonna—”

“I’m gonna cum too,” you moaned, voice stuttering. “Cum for me, Jeongin. Be a good boy and make a mess.”

Those words did it for him. His body convulsed, mouth falling open as a helpless groan rips from his throat. Hot cum spilled across his fist and stomach, thick spurts painting his skin, his breath breaking into short, desperate gasps. His mic caught everything, every noise he couldn’t contain.

You bit your lip, still rubbing your clit, the wet slap of your fingers growing louder than before. His moans pushed you over the edge seconds later. You tipped hard, hips grinding against your hand, eyelids fluttering as you moaned his name again, louder, shameless, dragging it out until you broke apart completely in his ears.

The channel went quiet except for breathing. Your breaths, ragged and uneven. His, hoarse and heavy, chest heaving.

“…So we’re definitely not queuing again tonight,” Jeongin finally rasped.

You giggled, fucked-out and smug. “Too scared I’ll dominate you again?”

“I literally just came so hard I saw stars. You think I can aim after this?” He dragged his hand down his face, cum sticky across his skin.

You smiled lazily, voice warm but still teasing. “Damn. All that from a softcore thirst trap?”

He groaned, exhausted. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You purred, “baby, I haven’t even turned the webcam on yet.”

+

The next night rolled around and Jeongin was right back where he swore he wouldn’t be. Hunched over at his scratched-up gaming desk, fingers already drumming against his glowing keyboard. His screen lit up with the Overwatch lobby countdown, and his stomach twisted with a mix of dread and anticipation. He’d promised himself a break after last night’s… incident. He’d promised he wouldn’t let you get to him again. And yet, here he was, 2:32 am, mic unmuted, cocky smirk plastered on his face to hide the fact that he was lowkey bracing for whatever was about to come out of your mouth this time.

You were in the lobby too, your username glowing in the party list, already trash talking in team chat before the game had even started. Jeongin adjusted his headset, took a swig of his Monster, and reminded himself that he hated you. Absolutely despised you. The messages, the video, the voice call— it hadn’t changed anything. You were still his sworn enemy. His rival. The insufferable little menace who spammed “gg ez” even when you lost. The only difference now was that everytime you called him a virgin loser, his dick leveled up before his pride did.

“Why the hell are you playing Ana again?” He groaned, exasperated as he flicked through hero selection. “You can’t aim for shit.”

Your voice quickly cut in, sugary-sweet and annoying as ever. “Suck my dick.”

Jeongin almost choked again, but swiftly caught himself.

“Yeah, from the back,” he says without missing a beat, face heating slightly. “But can you heal me while doing it, or are we just throwing this game again?”

You cackled, loud and sharp. “Nah, I’m letting you die on purpose. Builds character.”

“You say that like it hasn’t already broken me spiritually.” He tilted back in his chair until it squeaked dangerously, then lurched forward when the match countdown hit.

“Good. I thrive on your mental instability.”

He groaned again, “you’re genuinely evil.”

“And you’re genuinely down bad,” you chirped. “Now push the payload, baby boy.”

He smacked his forehead on the desk with a soft thunk. “Quit calling me that..”

You were giggling, some unholy mix of adorable and infuriating. Jeongin could practically see the shit-eating grin on your face through voice chat.

The game was nothing but chaos— team kills, botched ults, passive-aggressive pings. You played recklessly, taunting enemies in chat and spamming emotes mid-fight, while Jeongin tried desperately to play clean, to prove that he wasn’t just the guy who’d jerked off in voice chat less than 24 hours ago.

“I’m dead again,” he snapped a few minutes in, glaring at his screen. “Because somebody was too busy spamming voice lines to keep me alive.”

“Oops,” you sang. “Guess I’ll have to twerk on your grave.”

Jeongin’s eyes grew wide, flicking toward his second monitor where your Discord bubble lit up. “What?”

“You heard me. Full split. Ass in the wind. Right on your pixelated tombstone.”

He let out a strangled noise. “Oh my god..”

“‘Here lies Jeongin,’” you said in a fake solemn tone. “‘Died like he lived: being a little bitch on voice chat.’”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

His throat tightened. “…I do.” But it came out too soft, too weak, like even he didn’t believe himself.

“Aw, poor Jeongie,” you cooed, dragging out the syllables on purpose. “Getting cooked and can’t handle it?”

He clenched his jaw, fingers flying across his keyboard to respawn. “God, you’re so fucking annoying.”

“And you’re so fucking fun to annoy.”

“Uh huh,” he muttered, forcing his tone flat even though he’s clearly flustered, “keep lying to yourself, kitty.”

You sneered. “You did not just pull out the ‘kitty’ card out on me again.”

Jeongin smirked faintly, leaning back like he’d just landed a game winning play. “What’re you gonna do? Cry about it?”

Your scoff came sharp through the mic. “Say it one more time and I’ll uninstall your entire hard drive.”

His grin widened, cocky even as his palms were uncontrollably sweating. “Say it two more times and you’ll what?”

You groaned, smacking your desk loud enough for him to hear. “You’re such a pain the ass.”

“Yeah?” His voice dipped low, teasing. “Funny, you’ve been in my lobby every night this week. Who’s really suffering here?”

Your silence stretched for half a second too long, and Jeongin’s cock twitched embarrassingly in his shorts. He scrambled to fill the gap before you could notice.

“Thought so,” he muttered, respawning into lane with a huff.

The bickering didn’t stop from there. Every death was blamed, every misplay ridiculed. You called him all types names every chance you got, and everytime, his pulse jumped even as his blood boiled. He kept threatening to log off, to uninstall, to block you, but he never once did.

Two more matches. Both disasters. One ended in a rage quit from your support. The other ended with Jeongin screaming into his mic because you’d thrown yourself into the enemy spawn “for the content.” By the time the final scoreboard tallied up, it was 4:03 am, the two of you had logged off voice, but you’re right back to messaging each other again.

kittykushqueen: we’re highkey insufferable lol if someone recorded our vc it’d get shipped harder than enemies in anime

You laughed softly to yourself after hitting send, your thumbs buzzing from how fast they’d been flying across your phone all night. Your ears still rang faintly with the sound of his voice— whining about losing or barking half-assed insults, all of it burned into your skull even after the call had ended.

The typing bubble popped up, disappeared, then popped up again.

pussydemonslay3r: nah bc i’d be the fan favorite u’d be the mean one everyone hates

You snorted, tugging your blanket higher over your shoulders. Your dorm room was mostly quiet except for the whir of your mini fridge in the background, but it still felt loud with how hard your heart was beating.

kittykushqueen: wrong !!! i’m the hot one ur the whiny tsundere virgin

pussydemonslay3r: wow. ratio + cry about it + i’m logging off

You rolled your eyes so hard your head tilted back against the pillow.

kittykushqueen: wait wait wait random question…. what school do u go to?

Another pause. Long enough for your stomach to twist.

pussydemonslay3r: [uni name] why

Your eyes widened. You blinked once. Then again, rubbing them like maybe the sleep deprivation finally caught up to you and was making you hallucinate.

kittykushqueen: LMFAOOOO NO WAY this is gonna sound absolutely insane but like what dorm u in??

pussydemonslay3r: orion floor 4 why wassup

Your jaw actually dropped to the floor. You sat up straighter, staring at your phone like it had just grown legs.

kittykushqueen: no. fucking. way me too ?????

pussydemonslay3r: u lying are u playing me rn

kittykushqueen: dorm 418 bro we’re neighbors

The typing bubble appeared instantly.

pussydemonslay3r: STOP I’M 416 so ur the girl who always blasts doja at 3 am

kittykushqueen: and ur the guy who tried to microwave a spoon in week 2

pussydemonslay3r: OH MY GOD SHUT UP THAT WAS ONE TIME

kittykushqueen: this is fate or a glitch in the matrix

pussydemonslay3r: …so u wanna 1v1 irl?

kittykushqueen: say less but i’m bringing the strap (it’s a nerf gun)

pussydemonslay3r: god u’re so weird i’m obsessed

You stared at those last words for a long moment, your breath shallow, chest tight. It was stupid— insane, even— that all this time the boy you’d been tearing apart online for weeks, the one you’d teased into jerking off for you less than day ago, was only two doors down. You pressed your phone to your chest, biting back a smile that wouldn’t leave. The walls of your dorm felt paper thin all of a sudden, every sound suddenly amplified. Adrenaline courses through your veins, part nerves, part thrill. You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh, hide, or knock on his door right that second. Maybe a combination of all three.

+

The hallway outside dorm room 416 was dead quiet, dimly lit by the soft flicker of overhead fluorescents and the faint buzz of someone’s dying LED strip light from a couple doors down. The silence only made your knuckles sound louder when you rapped three sharp knocks against his door, petty and deliberate. Like you were showing up to collect debt he owed.

You heard some shuffling on the other side. Then the door cracked open, revealing Jeongin— blinking blearily behind smudged glasses, hair sticking up at odd angles, wearing a plain black t-shirt and basketball shorts that hung low on his hips. He looked… unprepared. As if he hadn’t expected you to actually show up. Not that you could blame him.

“I came to fight,” you announced, arms crossed, expression serious. Completely at odds with your bright pink Hello Kitty pajama set and fuzzy slippers.

Jeongin looked you up and down, then blinked again. “In that?”

You roll your eyes dramatically, “it’s fashion, bitch. You aren’t dressed any better.”

He huffed out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck like his brain was still buffering. “Okay, damn. Come in, I guess, before someone sees you and assumes I’m being held hostage.”

You stepped inside without hesitation, smirking. “You are being held hostage. By my superiority.”

His room was exactly what you’d imagined— and maybe even a little worse. Bookshelves filled to the brim with mangas, rows of Funko Pops and action figures, a massive Death Note poster was taped crookedly above his bed. His desk was cluttered with half empty cans of Monster, an open pack of Hot Cheetos, and keyboard crusted faintly from too many late nights. On his pillow, a Soul Eater plush sat propped up as if it owned the place.

“Wow,” you said, spinning slowly. “You really don’t get laid.”

He clicks his tongue. “God forbid a man has hobbies.”

You flopped onto his gaming chair, leaning back and giving it a lazy spin, your legs crossed, looking perfectly at home. “So this is the nerd lair. I’m impressed. It’s giving.. incel with taste.”

He leaned against the wall, arms folded. His eyes kept flicking to your bare thighs where your pajama shorts had ridden up, and he tried to force himself to look anywhere else. “It’s called having a personality.”

You snort. “Says the man who told me on Discord that Sanrio girls are a red flag.”

“Because they are,” he defended, pushing off the wall. “and I stand by that. You people are dangerous.”

“You people?” You gasped, mock-offended.

“I’m serious!” He jabbed a finger at you. “Sanrio girls throw hands, cry in club bathrooms, and threaten to slash tires with glittery keychains.”

You shrugged casually, picking at a chipped nail. “And we have the best pussy.”

Jeongin froze. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes flicking down again before he forced them back up to your face. “…You can’t just say that out loud.”

You flashed a cheesy grin. “What, does Hello Kitty scare you?”

“She’s five apples tall, I just know she’s hiding something.”

“She’s literally a cat,” you deadpanned.

“She’s a concept,” he argued, stepping forward, getting way too into it. “She doesn’t even have a mouth.”

“Yet she’s still more emotionally available than most men.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Then he groaned, pressing his palm to his face. “I- okay, fine, you win this one.”

You hopped up from his chair, padding over until you were toe-to-toe, poking at his chest. “Say it louder.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was a blush creeping in at the tips of his ears. “You win. Congratulations. What do you want, a medal?”

You tilt your chin up to look right at him, “nah. Just wanna see the look on your face when you lose again.”

He arched a brow, curiosity sparking under the irritation. “Oh yeah? And how do you plan on doing that?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you pushed at his chest lightly. He stumbled back, caught off guard, until the backs of his knees hit the mattress and he dropped onto the edge of his bed with a surprised “oof.” His hands hit the blanket to steady himself, but before he could recover, you climbed right onto his lap, straddling him with a wicked grin.

Jeongin’s whole body went limp, feeling another uncomfortable lump forming in his throat. His hands hovered awkwardly at your hips, not quite daring to touch, but his eyes darted over every detail of you up close— the smooth skin of your thighs pressed against his, the strap of your pajama top slipping off one shoulder, the heat of your body right against his crotch.

“Are we… still fighting?” He asked, voice a little higher than normal.

“Mhm.” You leaned down, eyes glinting. “And I’m about to win this round too.”

His brain blanked. The urge to throw another insult warred with the ache in his cock that had been building since the second you knocked.

He blinked once. Twice. Then closed the gap, kissing you.

It was clumsy at first, hesitant, like he’s in disbelief that a girl as pretty as you was actually real and currently sitting in his lap. But when your hand found the back of his neck and your fingers tugged gently at his hair, he got the memo, dissolving right into you. His lips moved in tandem with yours, warm and eager, but still refraining from fully touching as though he’s terrified you’d have second thoughts and pull away.

The Soul Eater plush toppled off his pillow and hit the floor.

Neither of you noticed.

Your breath caught as Jeongin kissed you deeper, his hands finally grounding themselves on your hips like he was done being shy about it. His grip tightened— not rough, but certain. The hesitation he’d held a moment ago seemed to melt away, replaced by something firmer, hungrier. He shifted you closer until your knees dug into the mattress on either side of him, and the heat between your bodies left no space untouched. His mouth moved with more confidence now, tongue flicking against yours, his breath hot and uneven. Every exhale carried a low hum, almost a growl, betraying just how badly he wanted this.

This wasn’t just lust— it was longing.

You felt his fingers flex against your hips, testing, adjusting his hold. He drew small circles against the thin fabric of your pajamas, fingertips lingering just beneath the waistband, not quite enough to push further, but enough to make your skin prickle with anticipation. The firmness in his touch made you realize he wasn’t playing anymore— no teasing in vc, no pretending to hate you. Just solely focused on you, pulling you in, and it made your pulse stutter.

You break away just slightly, lips still tingling, eyes searching his. “You sure you’re not scared of Sanrio girls?”

Jeongin smirked, face flushed from the kiss. “Terrified,” he said. “But I think I like the fear.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, but the sound turned into a gasp when he guided your hips against his, slow and purposeful. You could feel him now— unbearably hard, pressed against the thin barrier of your pajama shorts, and the confidence behind his movement made your head spin. His hands urged you closer, encouraging you to roll your hips again, and when you did, he let out a curse under his breath.

“You like teasing, huh?” He murmured, voice low as he leaned in, trailing wet kisses along the rim of your jaw. “Running that mouth, thinking I won’t do anything.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned by the shift in him. “Is this you trying to sound hot right now?”

“Is it working?” He asked, lips brushing over the edge of your neck, pausing just long enough for his tongue to dart against your skin.

…Yeah. It was. But you weren’t gonna let him know that just yet.

“I think you’re bluffing,” you challenged, tilting your head back slightly. “All talk.”

“Oh?” Jeongin tugged gently at the hem of your pajama top, his fingers lightly brushing underneath. “Then let me prove it.”

His voice was gentle, but commanding in a way you hadn’t expected from the guy who just ten minutes ago was raging about lag spikes and accusing Hello Kitty of being a demon. He wasn’t stuttering, wasn’t nervous, looking straight at you with a seriousness that made your chest tighten. This was a whole new side of him you’ve never seen before… and you could barely contain your own excitement.

Your hands slid up into his hair, threading through the messy strands until you had a firm hold, messing it up further. He bit his lip when your nails scraped lightly against his scalp.

“Okay, gamer boy,” you said, a little more breathless than you intended. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Jeongin chuckled against your skin, warm and cocky, and way too arrogant for someone who still had a plushie lying upside down on the floor like it was a casualty. His lips trailed lower, peppering kisses across the side of your neck, pausing every so often to gently suckle. His hands slipped further under your top, fingertips gliding over your waist. He wasn’t rushing, and somehow that made your heart beat even faster.

“You always talk this much during games?” He murmured, nipping at your neck.

You exhaled, nails still tugging on his hair. “You always flirt like this with girls who roast you in Discord?”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his expression serious despite the flush spreading across his cheeks. “Only the ones who send me thirst traps and make me question my entire existence.”

You smirked, dragging your fingers over to toy with the hem of his shirt. “So… me.”

“Unfortunately, yes,” he muttered, right before leaning in and kissing you again, this time with more intent, more pressure. His tongue slid against yours, teasing and warm, and when you shifted in his lap, he let out a quiet, wrecked sound that went straight to your core.

You felt the twitch of his arousal against you, solid and needy through the thin layers of clothing, and the fact that he was trying so hard to keep it together only made it ten times hotter.

“God,” he breathed out, forehead resting against yours, “you’re gonna kill me.”

“You’re the one who said ‘1v1 me IRL,’” you teased, reaching for the bottom of his t-shirt. “Don’t start what you can’t finish, Jeongin.”

He lifts his arms and lets you peel it off, his body heat rises under your palms as you raked your nails down lightly. He inhaled sharply.

“Oh, I plan on finishing,” he affirms, though he paused not even a second later, eyes flicking away sheepishly. “That sounded a lot cooler in my head..”

You burst out laughing, and he kissed you again just to shut you up.

His lips moved slower now, savoring the way you taste. Every tilt of his head, every drag of his mouth felt deliberate, unhurried. His hands kept roaming under your top, gliding up your sides, exploring every inch of you. You whispered his name softly, and the way he looked up at you with the utmost intensity made your chest ache. He looked at you as if you were the one thing he’d never expected to have, and now that you were here, he wasn’t letting go.

“Tell me what you want,” he meets your gaze with pleading eyes, already so eager. “I’ll do anything.”

The way he said it made you clench around nothing, heat curling low in your stomach until it ached. His cock was throbbing under you, pressing against you in a way that had you grinding down without even meaning to. Every little shift made him jolt, breath stuttering, thighs tensing under your weight. His hands gripped your legs tighter, thumbs brushing up near the edge of your shorts, seconds away from slipping underneath. He looked equal parts nervous and wrecked, but the hunger there was undeniable.

“Wild that you’re about to lose your virginity to the girl who flames you the hardest,” you said, grinning.

He let out a dry little chuckle, the sound low and shaky. Whatever pride he’d been clinging to had already gone out the window— he was hard, you were on top of him, and in his head that meant he’d already won.

“Yeah,” he admitted, lips curling into the faintest smirk. “And I’d do it again.”

His fingers slid beneath the elastic of your shorts, teasing the center of your damp panties. “You’re soaked,” he muttered, almost to himself, voice thick with disbelief. “All that attitude just to end up dripping for me.”

Your hips jerked up instinctively, a whine spilling from your throat as your eyes scrunched shut. His eyes darkened instantly, pupils blown wide, the faint shine of his glasses reflecting the lamplight. He looked absolutely undone, and yet fully in control.

“Look at me when I touch you.” His voice was firmer now, commanding.

Your lips parted to sass back, to remind him who was supposed to be winning this so-called fight, but the moment his hand pressed firmly against your clothed clit, all that witty defiance ended up dissolving into a ragged moan.

You looked straight at him.

“Good girl,” he murmured, the words slipped out low and husky, his tone steady but threaded with something desperate. His glasses had slid down his nose, his messy black hair framing his face, looking like every anime character you’d secretly thirsted over too long— except this wasn’t your screen. He was very real. And very much between your legs.

“I’ve waited way too long to get you like this,” he said as his fingers dragged lazy circles, feeling your juices seeping through the fabric. “Talking shit in voice chat, calling me a pussy. You really think I wasn’t gonna do something about that?”

“Jeongin,” you breathed, hips rolling toward his hand, your thighs trembling. The sound of his name spilling from your lips had his head reeling, he swore he could cum untouched just from hearing it.

Before you knew it, you toppled over and your back collided with the mattress, he’d flipped you over to be on top now. He slid down the bed, settling between your legs once again, his face hovered close enough that you could feel his breath against the cotton barrier of your panties. When he looked up at you, pupils dark and lips swollen, you felt chills go up your spine.

“Say my name again,” he said softly. “And I’ll make you forget how to say anything else.”

All you managed was a shaky breath but you did as you were told, letting out another soft moan of his name that sent the blood rushing straight to his cock.

His hand dips back beneath the elastic, his fingers pressing against your soaked panties, and the sticky wet sound made both of you groan. He slipped them aside without warning, and the cool air on your wet cunt had you clenching before he even touched you. Jeongin pushed two fingers inside, filling your tight little hole, watching your face as your back arched. The stretch had you gasping, clutching the sheets beneath you tighter. His jaw clenched at the way your walls fluttered around him immediately, gripping his fingers like you’d been waiting for this forever. He pumps in and out slowly at first, his thumb brushing lightly over your clit. Your hips rolled up to meet him, chasing the friction. His lips curled, cocky but awed.

“Take my fingers so well, baby,” he muttered, voice rough. The slick squelch of your cunt echoed in the small room, loud and shameless. He pressed a third finger in before you had time to process, groaning at the way you stretched around him. “Want more?”

“Yes! Fuck—” the word tumbled out broken, your thighs twitching against his sides. You were stuffed, trembling, clenching around every push of his fingers as they drove deeper, curling them just right inside you.

Jeongin leaned closer, his forehead pressing to your stomach as he worked his hand faster. “Messy girl. Getting it all over the sheets already.” His words vibrated against your skin.

Your body buzzed with heat, sweat clinging to your skin, exhaustion mixing with pleasure until it felt like you were floating. Every thrust of his fingers dragged you closer, the pressure building, your moans spilling free without filter.

Jeongin was loving every second of it. The way your cunt swallowed his digits, the sounds of your wetness filling his ears, the sight of you squirming under him. His pace quickened, eyes locked on your face, soaking in every reaction.

“Mmm… you’re perfect,” he groaned. “Look at you- clenching so tight. You’ll take whatever I give you, won’t you?”

Your thighs squeezed around his arm, lips parting to release a broken moan. You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t focus on anything except the way he stretched you out, heat pooling heavy in your stomach. All you could do was hold tighter, breath shallow, feeling lightheaded as your orgasm approached fast and hard.

Your orgasm slammed into you hard from the way his fingers curled inside, but Jeongin didn’t let you come down from it. The second your body started to spasm around his hand, he pulled his fingers out, leaving you gasping, and shoved your shorts and panties down your legs in one impatient tug.

Before you had the chance to catch your breath, he already nestles himself between your thighs, spreading you open with both hands and lowering his face.

“Jeongin—” you barely managed his name before his mouth latched onto your clit, sucking hard, tongue flicking over the sensitive nub with zero hesitation.

Your back arched clean off the bed. A strangled moan ripped out of you as your hands shot to his hair, tugging at the strands. He groaned against your cunt, the vibrations making your entire body jolt.

“Fuck- holy shit—” your voice broke, knees shaking uncontrollably as he licked a long stripe from your entrance up to your clit before burying his tongue back down into you. He was messy, spit was everywhere, your wetness coats his chin as slurping sounds filled the room.

You’d never expected him to be this good. You figured he’d be clumsy, unsure, but he was focused, greedy, working your pussy like he’d studied for this moment. And in a way, he had. Every late night porn binge, every video of girls grinding on tongues and riding faces— he’d memorized it all. Now, he was putting that research to use.

He alternated between sucking your clit, swirling his tongue around it, and pushing it inside you as far as it would go. Each shift in rhythm had you writhing, your thighs snapping shut around his head, but he only groaned in satisfaction, prying them back open to keep at it.

“Jesus, Jeongin, stop—” you whine, though your hips were grinding against his face. “I-I can’t—”

“You can,” he muttered into you before flicking his tongue over your clit again. His voice was wrecked, almost unrecognizable, and his tongue never let up.

Your whole body shudders, hands clawing at the sheets, your cries bouncing off the walls of his dorm. He was practically drowning in you— his chin, his cheeks, even the tip of his nose glistened with your slick. He was groaning with every movement, rutting subtly against the mattress just from eating you out, like he couldn’t get enough.

Everytime you thought you were about to break apart, he pushed you harder— sucking, licking, moaning into you until your orgasm crashed over you again, harder than before. You screamed his name, whimpering in pathetic desperation, nails digging into his scalp.

But he still didn’t stop.

He lapped at you through your orgasm, tongue relentless, mouth wet and noisy. The overstimulation had you thrashing, another string of whines spilling out without control, your body jerking under him as if you were trying to escape. He pinned your hips down with his hands, holding you in place while his tongue drew quick circles over your clit.

“Too much- Jeongin, fuck, please,” you begged, half sobbing, your thighs twitching violently.

He finally pulled back just enough to smirk up at you, the entire bottom half of his face drenched with your arousal. His eyes were blown wide, hair a complete mess from your grip.

“Beg prettier,” he rasped, then immediately dove right back in, pressing more open-mouthed kisses to your overly sensitive clit.

Tears pricked at your eyes from the intensity, your body spasming. You’d never been eaten out like this— messy, sloppy, desperate. He devoured you like he’d starved for it. And each time you thought he’d pull back, he pushed harder, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you until you were nothing but a convulsing, overstimulated mess.

When he finally pulled away for real, your chest was heaving, sweat dampening your hairline. You were in ruins, legs spread wide, sheets completely soaked beneath you. He licked his lips, still panting, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, though it did absolutely nothing to clean him up.

“I could eat you forever,” he muttered, dazed, voice low and rough.

You whimpered, trying to steady your breathing, thighs still twitching through the aftershocks, and yet the sight of him, hair ruined and lips swollen, made arousal surge right back into your veins.

Slowly, shakily, you pushed yourself upright, crawling toward him. His eyes tracked you the entire way, chest rising fast, his hard cock straining obviously against his shorts.

Your palms pressed against his chest, shoving him back until he laid flat on the bed. You swung a leg over him, settling on his hips, your hands smoothing down his bare chest as you leaned forward.

He moaned when you kissed him again, getting a taste of yourself on his tongue. Your hand slipped down, tugging at the band of his shorts.

You pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips, your smile wicked. “My turn.”

And then you started to slide down his body, ready to take him into your mouth.

You pulled his shorts down in one rough motion, his cock springing free, flushed red and leaking. He jolted at the exposure, a broken sound catching in his throat as you wrapped your hand around the base. He was thick in your grip, pulsing with every tiny shift of your fingers, the head already slick with precum.

“Fuck..” Jeongin hissed, head falling back into his pillow. He tried to cover his face with his arm, embarrassed at how fast he was leaking for you, but dropped it when you bent down and let a thick string of spit drip directly onto the swollen tip. It slid down his shaft, mixing with his precum and your hand stroking lazily along his length. His hips bucked before he could stop himself, a groan escaping. “Oh my god—”

You licked a slow stripe up his cock, pressing your tongue flat against the vein before circling the head and spitting again, deliberately letting it dribble out of your mouth onto him. He throbbed in your grasp, chest rising faster.

“You’ve been dreaming about this, huh?” You smirked, stroking him with the mess you’d made. “Bet all those nights jerking off to hentai didn’t prepare you for the real thing.”

Jeongin groaned, hands fisting the sheets tight. “S-shut up—” his protest cut off in a sharp gasp when you took him into your mouth, lips sealing around the head, tongue lapping up every drop of slick and spit.

You moaned around him, vibrating down his cock, and he lost it instantly. “Shit- ah—” his hips jerked, and you pinned him down with one hand against his stomach, the other guiding his cock deeper.

Detaching slowly, a thick strand of spit stretched from your lips to his tip. You slapped his cock down against your tongue, your mouth wide open so he could see the mess you’d made. Drool ran down your chin, dripping onto your chest. “Look at this. Look at how hard you are for me, gamer boy.”

The noise he made was downright sinful— half a groan, half a whimper. His hands shot to his hair, tugging at it until his knuckles turned white. He looked worn out already, and you hadn’t even gone all the way yet.

You swallowed him down again, forcing your throat to relax as you pushed further. Your nose brushed his pelvis, and your throat clenched tight around him, gagging loudly. Spit bubbled at the corners of your lips, coating him, dripping onto his balls as you swallowed and pulled back only to sink down again.

“Holy fuck—” he groaned, hips bucking helplessly. “You’re- fuck- you’re unreal.”

You pulled off only for a moment, spit and precum running down your chin, only to drool another messy string directly onto his cock before sucking the head back into your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks, bobbing your head faster now, the obscene wet sounds filling both your eardrums. His thighs shook violently, his breath coming out in sharp, broken pants.

“Gonna- ah- fuck, gonna cum!” His voice cracked, frantic, almost pleading. His hand hovered over your head like he wanted to shove you down but was too overwhelmed.

You didn’t let up. If anything, you went harder— taking him so deep you’re damn near choking on his length, spit soaking your face and dripping down onto the sheets. You let it get filthy, sloppy, your tongue working fast as your throat milked him.

His whole body tensed, stomach caving in as you’re sucking the life out of him, abs flexing under your hand. With a guttural moan, he spilled into your mouth, hot ropes of cum flooding your throat in heavy pulses. You swallowed instantly, gulping it down while your tongue kept working the head. His cock twitched again, and he choked out a loud, broken cry.

You pulled back to suck him clean until he hissed from the oversensitivity. When you finally let him slip from your lips, you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue to show him. Clean, every drop swallowed. Then you licked your lips, drool still glistening on your chin.

Jeongin stared at you like he’d just ascended. His chest heaved, his glasses crooked, hair sticking in every direction as he rose from the pillow. He looked completely undone, eyes glassy, lips parted.

“My god—” his voice was beyond wrecked. “you’re insane.”

You don’t even reply, just flash him a little smirk before crawling up his body and straddling him again, your soaked pussy pressing against his softening cock, making him groan under you. You kissed him deep, letting him taste himself on your tongue, spit messy between your mouths.

When you pulled back, your voice was husky. “Don’t get comfy yet. I’m not done with you.”

You kissed down his jaw, shifting until you were sliding lower again, ready to take him back into your mouth, but this time to get him hard all over so you could ride him.

Jeongin barely had time to catch his breath before you were sliding down his chest again, your tongue tracing over his skin, tasting the sweat that had started to gather there. His was still sensitive from the load he’d spilled down your throat, but when your lips wrapped around the head and you sucked gently, he cursed, already half-hard again.

“Fuck, baby, slow down,” he gasped, but his hips betrayed him, pushing up into your mouth. His voice cracked, needy and strained.

You popped off with a wet sound, saliva stringing from your lips to his cock. “Mm, no. I’m not waiting. Wanna feel you inside me now.”

His jaw went slack, a sharp curse slipping out under his breath as he watched you spit onto his cock again, stroking him until he was hard and heavy in your hand. His eyes flicked down between your legs, watching the way your pussy glistened, still dripping from how hard he’d worked you over earlier.

You straddled him, grabbing his cock and guiding the tip to your entrance. The first push in had you both moaning, your head falling back as your walls stretched around him, his hands clutching your waist like he needed something to stabilize himself.

“Holy shit—” Jeongin choked, voice quivering. “You’re- fuck, you’re so tight. You’re really- fuck, you’re taking all of me?”

Your nails dug into his chest as you sank down inch by inch, feeling every vein, every twitch of his cock as it stuffed you full. The stretch burned in the best way, and when you finally bottomed out, sitting flush against his hips, you whimpered at how deep he reached.

“God, you’re so big,” you moaned, rolling your hips slowly to adjust. “Stuffing me so full I can’t even think.”

Jeongin’s head fell back into his pillow, sweat already beading along his hairline. “Fuck, you’re perfect, oh my god—” He lifted his hips to meet yours, groaning as your pussy swallows him whole. “Don’t stop- please.”

You braced your hands on his chest and started to move, bouncing on him, grinding your hips to milk every inch, each slap of your ass against his thighs making him groan louder. He tried to keep his eyes open, to watch the way your tits bounced in your thin pajama top, but his eyes kept rolling back when you slammed down hard enough to make his cock twitch deep inside you.

“Fuck- you’re gonna ruin me,” he panted, nails biting into your waist. “Keep riding me, kitty, please- oh fuck—”

The nickname had you clenching around him, your walls fluttering as you moaned shamelessly. You leaned forward, kissing him hard, sloppy and wet, spit mixing as his tongue tangled with yours. You loved how messy it was, how needy he sounded, how completely undone he looked beneath you.

But then he gritted his teeth, flipped you onto your back, and drove his cock back into you in one sharp thrust. You yelped, legs flying up around his waist as he started pounding into you, fucking you with a pace so raw and desperate you could barely breathe.

“Thought you could win this round?” He growled, his voice breaking with every thrust. “Look at you, whimpering, moaning, you love it, don’t you? Love when I fuck you stupid.”

“Yes! Yes, fuck- Jeongin!” You cried out, your nails dragging down his back as he held your thighs open, driving himself into you over and over. Your cunt was so wet it splattered everywhere, the lewd sounds echoing louder than his grunts, the mattress squeaking under the force.

He buried his face in your neck, kissing, biting, moaning into your skin as he fucked you. His thrusts were relentless, sharp and deep, hitting that spot inside you that had your eyes rolling back. You couldn’t even form words anymore, just broken sounds, gasps, and his name spilling from your lips.

“God- you’re dripping all over me,” he groaned, hips snapping hard. “Gonna make me cum again if you keep squeezing me like that- fuck.”

Your legs trembled around his waist, tears brimming your eyes from the overstimulation, but you didn’t want him to stop. Every thrust had your stomach tightening, the coil pulling tighter and tighter until you were on the edge again, your cries muffled against his shoulder.

When you came, it ripped through you like a shockwave, your cunt spasming around his cock, milking him. He grunts into your ear, fucking you through it, letting you ride it out until you collapsed boneless beneath him, panting and shaking.

But he wasn’t done.

He pulled out, his cock slick and throbbing, and manhandled you onto your hands and knees before sliding back onto the bed. His chest rose and fell fast, sweat dripping down his temple, but his eyes were still wild. He tugged you onto him, guiding you until you were facing away from him, your ass pressed against his thighs.

“Reverse cowgirl,” he panted, gripping your hips. “Wanna see you ride me in the mirror.”

You glanced up— and there it was. The full-length mirror propped against his wall reflected everything. Your blissed-out face, your messy hair, your pussy dripping as his cock lined up again with your entrance.

You sank down slowly, both of you watching the mirror as his cock slid back inside you. The sight made your stomach clench, your walls already fluttering before you even started moving.

“Oh fuck,” Jeongin sighed, throwing his head back before forcing his eyes open again to watch the reflection. “Look at you, so fucking sexy, I can’t—”

You braced your hands on your thighs and started bouncing, slamming yourself down onto him over and over. His cock hit so deep you saw stars, your moans getting louder as you rode him fast, the mirror showing every obscene detail. His grip bruised your hips, pulling you down harder, and you could feel how close he was by the way his cock twitched inside you.

“Fuck, Jeongin- so deep!” You cried, grinding down and rolling your hips, your eyes locked on the mirror.

He was moaning openly now, no shame, watching you lose yourself on his cock. His voice cracked as he begged, his head falling back against the mattress. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop—”

And neither of you did.

You rode him harder, faster, your reflection showing just how messy and fucked-out you both were, your bodies glistening with sweat. By the time you both reached the edge again, you weren’t thinking straight— just raw, desperate pleasure, chasing the high together as the mirror reflected every second of it.

The tension in the room finally snapped with one last shared cry, your body seizing around him as he spilled deep inside, groaning through his teeth while holding you flush against him. You barely managed another thrust down onto him before your body gave up, trembling and overstimulated, your legs refusing to hold you any longer.

You collapsed on top of him, your sweaty back sliding against his chest as his arms wrapped tight around your waist. His cock still pulsed weakly inside you, buried deep as you both gasped for breath, your skin coated with sweat, sheets beneath you a sticky, ruined mess.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of panting. His chest heaved against your spine, your cheek pressed into the crook of his arm. Your body still recovering every few seconds from aftershocks, and he rubbed your hip slowly, grounding you back into the moment.

When you finally had the strength to roll off him, you turned onto your side, curling into his chest. He tucked an arm under your head, pulling you close in a way that felt too easy, too natural for what had just happened.

You let your eyes close for a second, your voice hoarse when you muttered, “getting cracked into another dimension by a virgin who spends his time gaming all day was definitely not on my bingo card.”

Jeongin snorted, chest shaking beneath your cheek. “On the bright side, at least I can live up to my username now.”

You laughed weakly, smacking his chest with the little energy you had left. He winced dramatically, like you’d actually hurt him, then grinned when you snuggled closer despite yourself. The sex appeal had evaporated completely with that dumb comment, replaced with something much lighter. Normally his dumbass one-liners would’ve drove you insane, but now? With his arm around you and his breath warming your hair, you found it almost… endearing.

You both lay there in silence for a while, tangled messily in sheets, sore and sated. His fingers traced random shapes against your arm absentmindedly, and you let him. Neither of you moved to get up, neither of you said “good game” or “queue again.” For once, there wasn’t an insult looming between you.

Still, the quiet wasn’t simple. It felt heavier, charged in a different way. You were supposed to be enemies— sniping at each other on Discord, flaming in voice chat, swearing you couldn’t stand him. But after everything that just happened? After the way he’d touched you, the way you’d screamed his name, the way he was holding you now like you belonged there?

The thought hovered at the tip of your tongue, soft and uncertain, making your chest tight. What are we?

You didn’t ask. Not yet, at least. But the question lingered in the room, in the space between your bodies, in the warmth of his arm tightening around you as you both drifted off into the silence of early morning.

[xiaq]

Let’s talk about AI (the good, the bad, the ugly)

Hi, I work in tech and I’m also an author and I feel we need to have a chat. Because I’m seeing a lot of misinformation/conflation happening.

There are many different kinds of AI, and disagreement about what should even be termed “AI” in the industry (it’s the hot new thing, so companies are rebranding all sorts of products they offer as “AI” which is muddying the waters re what is Artificial Intelligence and what’s just a sparkling workflow). That being said, let’s go over some key terminology/how these iterations differ (at least in my part of the data management AI world).

Narrow AI: This is a limited, passive, task-specific kind of AI. It’s programmed to respond within certain constraints. Narrow AI is behind the chat bot you talk to when you want to make an Amazon return, or voice assistants you speak to when trying to make an insurance claim. They don’t learn; if you ask them a question outside their purview, they will not provide an answer. Narrow AI can be useful for efficiency and saving costs (it can also be hella annoying if you’re stuck speaking to one that can’t help you with your problem and you don’t know the magic set of words to get to an actual person who can).

Agentic AI: This is a more advanced system that attempts to mimic human decision-making within a specific context using LLMs. This is a model that can “learn” and adapt. There are many subsets of Machine Learning within Agentic AI like Supervised learning—where a system can be trained to identify something by certain characteristics (used for cancer detection!) or Unsupervised Learning which is a matching/pattern recognition exercise (like identifying new disease subgroups!). Agentic AI can also help more generally with looking at patient data within the context of their medical history/the most up-to-date medical best practices, and provide insights. Aside from use in the medical industry, Agentic AI might be used within larger corporations for supply chain management—monitoring and automating interactions between suppliers, vendors, freight companies, etc. to make sure the correct number of products are ordered and shipped at the correct time to the correct locations, even if those numbers fluctuate. It can be used for companies who want to enable self-service for their business units to query data and create new data sets based on those queries using natural language (“show me all customers who purchased x product within this time frame in this geographic location,” “now create a new data set with this information”). Like Narrow AI, Agentic AI can improve efficiency, and is helpful in contexts when the breadth of data/moving parts involved is so substantial a human may not be equipped to manage it alone. However, it still needs to be implemented responsibly (more on that after Generative AI).

Predictive AI: This uses pattern recognition/machine learning/statistics/algorithms to predict outcomes. Predictive AI taps into an amount of data that was previously not possible for human teams to manage (much like Agentic AI). Predictive AI can anticipate stock market changes, extreme weather, mechanical issues, supply chain impacts, healthcare outcomes, crime surges, and more, saving time, money, and potentially even preventing major problems like vehicle recalls and death due to natural disasters. However, predictive AI is limited by the data it’s trained on, which has resulted in algorithmic biases (like when used in law enforcement/policing contexts, or healthcare contexts). So, as is true for any of the AI models I’ve mentioned so far, while it can be a positive tool, implementors should be cognizant of the fallible, human, foundation it’s built upon and try to mitigate bias.

Generative AI: This is what most people think of when they think of AI, thanks to chatbots like ChatGPT. Generative AI is a regurgitative leech. It creates “new” content based on the massive amounts of data it has been trained on. Nothing ChatGPT creates is actually new, though. It’s not thinking for itself. When you ask it to write a story or create a picture, it’s using an amalgamation of the writing and art it has copied from real creators without credit. There is very little useful about Generative AI like ChatGPT. Especially when you consider the environmental ramifications of using it. Generative AI used within a social context (as a therapist/friend/romantic stand-in) is dangerous. And if used as an authoritative search engine (which is disturbingly prevalent, now) it’s equally problematic due to common issues like hallucinations, the spread of fabricated news stories/outlets, dangerous deepfakes, extremist bias, and more. And if you’re thinking, well I just use it to help with outlining papers/re-writing emails/condensing notes, there are already studies that raise concerns about generative AI weakening critical thinking skills. I cannot tell you how relieved I am that I left my job as a professor the year before ChatGPT came out.

Now, to be fair, a lot of Agentic AI depends on LLMs, as I mentioned, which makes it prone to encountering the same sorts of issues with hallucinations/bias as Generative AI chatbots. But in my experience, companies/hospitals/government entities are aware of this and, when implementing responsibly, use Agentic AI as a tool that requires supervision and adjustment, not some holy, infallible, authority (like many public-facing chat bot users). I also think the potential benefits of Agentic AI currently outweigh my concerns about its use of generative AI (though the environmental impacts are still worrisome). So perhaps even further nuance is needed between Generative AI used within Agentic contexts and public-facing Generative AI used purely for entertainment/ “education” in chatbots.

Which only emphasizes my point that lumping all AI together is not beneficial. There’s nuance! Anyway.

TL;DR my personal thoughts on AI:

Narrow AI—Can be Good when implemented appropriately!

Agentic AI—Can be Good when implemented appropriately!

Predictive AI—Can be Good when implemented appropriately!

Generative AI (public-facing)—Kill it with fire.

[that-one-girl2020]

i cant stop thinking about this-- its clear rumi's sister!readerdidn't have the best life, but it definitly could've gone worse. Maybe there's a world where Celine chose to kick reader out to focus on rumi only, by then everything spirals down for reader while the events of the continued on as normal. This'll prob be a huge nightmare to wake up from polytrix and the saja boys lol

What Could Have Been

Saja Boys x Rumi’s Sister! Reader

A/N: There’s not a lot of dialogue in this one either, but I kind of speed ran a decade and in this ‘what if’ scenario, I don’t think they would have ever really interacted with each other and it would really just follow the events of the movie.

Synopsis: Maybe it’s a message from the universe, but eight people having the same eerie dream at once of what could have happened if Celine had thrown you out all those years ago definitely feels purposeful. (Read the short series for this to make sense!)

TW: Child abandonment, toxic parenting, abandonment issues, self harm (intense scratching), fear of being killed, paranoia, low self esteem, insecurity, angst, bad ending (in dream), etc.

Word Count: 1.8k

Master List || KPDH Request Master List

(Reminder: Baby = Jum, Romance = Chungae, Mystery = Hyeon, Abby = Kwan)

Young Rumi woke up with the sun as usual, something she always did but would eventually grow out of due to the various responsibilities and numerous tasks demanded of a famous idol. But she wasn’t an idol yet. She was just a little girl that was being raised by her Aunt along with her twin sister.

The day before had been scary… Rumi had shown promise months back, the threads of the Honmoon glimmering around her faintly when she sang for the first time. It was one of the happiest moments of her life, a physical connection with her deceased mother. But… nothing happened for her sister.

Hours, days, weeks and then months passed with Aunt Celine working (Y/n) harder and harder, trying to get her to connect with the Honmoon like Rumi had. Nothing worked. Aunt Celine had been getting more and more frustrated and angry and (Y/n) had been getting more and more scared and nervous until it all accumulated during weapons training the day before. It wasn’t anything serious.

The two of them had been sparring with the training weapons, moving through simple katas when (Y/n) had gotten a good hit in and Rumi had fallen back, losing her weapon and cutting her arm on a stray rock with a startled cry.

“What have you done, you terrible child?!” Aunt Celine had burst out, pushing (Y/n) back forcefully so she could carefully cradle Rumi in her arms. “I can’t look at you right now! Go to your room for the rest of the day and don’t you dare come out until I say you can!”

Body trembling and eyes wet, you had gone. Pushing yourself out of the dirt and sniffling as you went, (Y/n) had quietly gone back to your room and Rumi did not see you for the rest of the day. Not for the rest of training, not for dinner, not for free time, and not for bed time.

But that was okay because Rumi would get to see you for breakfast. Right?

Carefully peeking into the kitchen to see if you were cooking like Aunt Celine had been having you do for the past few weeks, she was surprised to only see Aunt Celine and no you. Maybe Aunt Celine had decided to let you have a break after being so mean to you yesterday.

“Aunt Celine?” Rumi called out carefully, not wanting to trigger the woman’s temper after yesterday. “Where’s (Y/n)?”

Aunt Celine went carefully still, her back to Rumi. “She’s gone Rumi.”

Rumi’s chest felt like someone had reached in and carved something important out. “‘Gone’?” She echoed hollowly.

The knife fell harsher than before. “Yes. Gone. You will not be seeing that demon child ever again. However, if you do, then you are to kill her on sight.”

Rumi, confused and too many complicated emotions spinning into a whirlwind in her still growing body, stumbled back and her legs gave out the support she had now gone. In more ways than one. “What…? But, (Y/n)’s my sister! I love—“

Rumi couldn’t help but flinch as Aunt Celine slammed the knife down harshly, “That child is not your sister, she’s no good. She’s a demon and that is all that is important now. I will hear no more of her.”

Rumi felt like the world was graying out around her. She couldn’t stay in the house with her Aunt anymore. She ran outside and away.

“(Y/n)!” She called, unaware of how her patterns glowed with her distress, creeping across her skin. “(Y/n)! Where are you?!”

Maybe you were still around. Maybe she could sneak you into her room until Aunt Celine calmed down. Then everything would be okay again, right? She had to find you though because Aunt Celine would call her for breakfast soon and what would she do if Rumi was late? Would she get rid of Rumi too? She was a demon too, wasn’t she?

No, she couldn’t think about that now. She had to find you, her sister.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n)! Come back!”

She shouted, tears mixing with her snot until she couldn’t take it anymore and fell to the ground and cried. And then Aunt Celine’s voice called for her and Rumi had to swallow her tears down and go about the day as she usually would under the careful watch of her Aunt.

Years passed. She didn’t see you again.

That day, Aunt Celine had silently brought you into the car with nothing but the clothes on your back. She drove for a long time. Maybe half the night, maybe more. Until she stopped in the middle of nowhere and brought you out of the car and into the middle of the road. She told you to stay there. She got in the car, you calling after her in confusion and then fear and desperation.

Her last words to you were, “If I ever see you again, then either I or the Hunters will kill you.” She drove away, leaving you, a child, in the middle of the road with your hands and knees scraped from the asphalt and crying great heaving sobs.

You were so scared. Scared and broken. There was nothing else to be said about it because what words could describe what it was like to be abandoned like that.

You cried for longer than you would ever be able to tell and then you walked for double that—long after the sky turned blue with the sun. You scratched and scratched at your arms until they were raw and bloody, trying to get rid of your patterns in hopes that if they were gone, you would be able to go home again.

A nice woman driving by on the desolate road took you to the hospital where they treated the wounds on your arms, hands, and knees. Then you were questioned but all you could give them was your name. It was while you were at the hospital, being kept there while officials debated what to do with you, when you saw a news segment of your Aunt Celine at some event, your sister at her side.

Your heart twisted and pulled with warring emotions. Home. Safety. Love. Fear. Terror. Danger. The conflicting visceral reaction made your stomach turn so hard that you threw up and cried and tried to scratch some more.

You ended up being placed in the foster system, where you were bounced from home to home, never being allowed to settle. No one could handle you. It was either issues with the other kids because of your patterns or the adults being unable to handle your anxieties and scratching.

The only thing that somewhat soothed you was singing and dancing. You only did so in the quiet of the night or when you were sure you were alone. Despite the way you grew up, you dreamed so intensely of performing in front of others, of sharing your song and dance, your soul with others but the idea of it always filled you with so much terror that your nails would sink into skin.

They would see you.

Celine’s last words to you haunted you. You were so terrified that she or one of the Hunters would see you while you performed, even if it was just a crowd in the middle of a quiet park, that you never dared to sing or dance in front of a single person. You were so scared that your sister would one day come to kill you.

You saw her of course. How could you not? Her and two other girls debuted so spectacularly that it was like they set a bomb off in the entertainment industry. They climbed so quickly that it was almost dizzying. It was strange feeling a flicker of pride for your sister through the fear and envy you felt whenever you saw her image.

You moved through life in a daze of terror and emptiness, getting a simple job where you knew you would never cross paths with your sister and living in a simple apartment. And everyday, it ached in you that this was your life.

It was almost a relief when you saw the Saja Boys.

You weren’t there at their debut, but there were plenty of videos of it online within seconds. Even through the low quality of the fancam recording, you could see the faint flicker of demonic features. You didn’t know what they were doing here in the human world, but you didn’t care very much. They were demons, like you. And they were performing so freely.

You followed their budding career as closely as you could from another city. You could tell that your sister and her friends were doing their best to kill them or get the upper hand but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

They were just demons but they gave you the courage you needed to finally try.

It wasn’t anything large and public. It was just a simple video recording of you and your guitar, singing a song you wrote a long time ago when you were more sad and lonely than usual. You posted it and gained a good number of followers so you posted a few more times. You created your own little nook in the corner of the internet where you felt safe with the small number of people that liked your music.

You maybe felt happy. For the first time in years.

And while that was happening, tensions between the Saja Boys and Huntr/x rose higher and higher. Rumi struggled with her secrets, the shame of her patterns and the fear that started years ago of anyone finding out about her patterns. If Aunt Celine would kill you and toss you from their home so easily then what was keeping anyone from turning against her? There was a distance between the girls that they struggled to bridge.

Then the Idol Awards happened and you saw your sister with her patterns exposed on national television. You couldn’t help but empathize and worry for Rumi but it was distant. You worried for the little girl you remembered, the sister that would sneak out to stargaze with you and giggle in the forest glade. But you hadn’t seen that girl in over a decade. Still, you couldn’t help but scratch.

But then Gwi Ma was defeated, the Honmoon sealed and Jinu, Kwan, Chungae, Hyeon, and Jum died without ever knowing what love or hope was like.

And you disappeared beneath the rainbow threads without a trace. Only a fading scream and an impression of magenta flames burning left beneath eyelids.

Eight people awoke abruptly, sitting up in sheets soaked with cold sweat and hearts racing painfully in their chests.

It had never happened.

Relief slammed through them with the force of a freight train.

When you awoke the next morning, there were eight more bodies in your bed than you remembered going to sleep with.

A/N: In the movie, they don’t really show the demons being sealed away in the end, just the Honmoon being complete so I don’t know if the demons on that side of the Honmoon escaped being sealed away and the girls had to hunt them down or if they were sealed away? Like, Derpy and Sussie were still in the human world so maybe it was a subconscious thing? So, in the what-if world, it had been drilled into Rumi’s head to kill her sister on sight so she ended up being sealed away on the other side of the Honmoon with the other demons…? Does that make sense?

Outtakes:

*the next day*

Rumi: *glued to your side* “Do you want your stress nest? I think you need time in your stress nest.”

Mira & Zoey: *also attached to you* “Yeah, we can get you some snacks and fidgets and you can just chill in your nest.”

Jinu: *Stuck to you like glue* “Do you want some face masks too?”

Kwan: *basically an extra limb at this point* “I can run and get you your favorite snacks from the street market, just say the word, babe.”

Chungae: *might as well be a human/demon blanket* “We can put on your favorite movies or your comfort show too if you want some time in your nest.”

Jum: *your current accessory for the day* “I can go grab your headphones if you want quiet time in your nest?”

Hyeon: *trying to become one with you* “Do you need me to go and hunt Celine down for you? Because I will. Just say the word. Say it and I will. I swear I will for you, princess.”

You: *very confused* “Are you sure you guys don’t need the stress nest?”

…

Bobby: *answering the phone* “Hey, (Y/n), what’s up?”

You: “Bobby. Please. Please come and get them off, it has been two days.”

Bobby: “What? The girls or the guys or both?”

You: “Both! They haven’t let me more than three feet from them, let alone out of sight! They would quite literally be the air in my lungs if they could—! Hey!”

Jinu: *taking the phone Hyeon stole from you* “Hey, Bobby, is it possible that we could all work with (Y/n) every day or not leave her side for the next… mmm, week?”

Bobby: “…”

Bobby: “No.” *Hangs up* “Okay! I need a security team to come with me to extract (Y/n) from the eight menaces so she can get to her event!”

Security: “Ahhh, not again…”

…

*Later*

You: *finally free* “Stay. Ah ah ah, I said stay!”

Polytr/x & Saja Simps: *pouting with teary eyes* “But…”

You: *hands out* “Ah! No, I said stay. Stayyyyy… Good babies… Bye!” *darts into the elevator as the doors shut*

Polytr/x & Saja Simps: “Don’t leave us!”

…

Tag List: @brights-place @itmechaosartist @reni502 @chin-chii @cultish-corner @enerofairy @mama-m1na @akariis4snowball @gremlinartstudio @shynotded @shadowmoonlight0604 @omgsuperstarg @neigesprincess @sleep-7372 @hurts-my-brain @kiwibackie @gh0stied3ath @naysha140 @theferretkids @lelantyuu @sexyindependentdowntospendit @hornehlittleweeblet2 @moonymoo1 @moochiwoochi @cheolright @crescent-z @prorpy @mey-archive @cami1qx @nerdalicios @xxsadlovexx @blackheart34 @anonymousewrites @scarletrosesposts @justanindiangirl12 @beexboo @tatsuri-zomushiki @call-me-nyxx @queenofviolenceandnerds @randomfan218-blog @jaybbygrl @unholycheesesnack @ocean-mochi @iviorienne @confusedparticle @otakusimp1 @nosbaby07 @fries11 @ri-eveowe @1950schick @libdarkheart @yourjustassaneasiamx @the-bookish-artist @anduinandwrathionlover @eternallyrosyfire @lysira340 @lansy-4 @strayharmony943 @maximumtrashchild @bleufu1 @minepugs @valeriele3 @arieslucy @nisarelle @suzieq1948374 @esposamultifandom

[rosesforshoto]

what, you think i can’t hold a few boxes?

in which sae is interested in you, the new bubbly worker around his team, and he has a little trouble trying to strike up a conversation

itoshi sae x reader | fluff | wc: 1.2k

“that looks heavy.”

your head lifts at the sound of a low sharp voice, eyes immediately meeting teal ones. oh, he’s here already? it’s unusual for him to be this early.

“hey sae! how are you?” you chirp, smiling widely, footsteps coming to a halt.

sae looks at you indifferently, his unbothered expression barely cracking as he motions with his head at the stack of boxes in your hands. the stack piles so high that it almost obscures your vision. you can just barely see his face and his tufts of red-brown hair.

sae ignores your question, “you look like you’re struggling.”

you give him another courteous smile, though you’re not sure if he can even see it with the tower of boxes in the way. “i got it, don’t worry! it’s a short walk to the field anyways. it’s nice seeing you!”

leaning back so that the weight settles against your front, you move to walk around him in the narrow hallway until he steps in front of you, blocking your path. you look at him curiously with a smile still on your face, confusion now snaking its way into it.

“did you need me for something? i can help you out right after i bring these down,” you offer enthusiastically. you’ve only ever interacted with him a few times, not wanting to step on the star player’s toes. though, if he made you wait any longer, these boxes might do it instead.

“you’ve worked here for around a month now,” sae states, not asking.

you tilt your head to the side, “...yes?”

he sighs, short and curt. “then you should know those go to locker room first, not the field.”

your eyes widen and you snap your mouth shut. damn it, guess your walk won’t be so short afterall. “ah… that’s my bad. i’ll head up there right away then!”

“it’s far from here. you sure you don’t need some help?”

his question makes you furrow your brows. did he offer his help earlier? also, when did itoshi sae ever offer his help? especially when a worker is just doing their job.

“no, it’s okay!” you answer cheerfully, ignoring the crushing feeling in your fingers. he sweeps his gaze down your figure and you really hope he doesn’t notice you shifting the heavy weight back and forth. “now, if you’ll just excuse me…”

you move forward, hoping he’ll get the hint but he’s rooted to his spot, calculative eyes never straying away from you. you bite the inside of your cheek as you awkwardly shuffle back, eyes darting around helplessly.

he’s quiet and you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye, his presence is a little intimidating to say the least. and the way he’s staring at you, unmovingly, is starting to make you flustered.

did you do something wrong?

footsteps echo down the hall and you hear oliver’s booming voice from behind, rapidly approaching you both.

“hey! are you headed to the locker room? oh, that looks a little heavy. let me take some of those.”

before you can protest, oliver takes a couple of boxes from the top of your stack and grins at you. you smile back, muttering a quick thank you before sidestepping the two men, squeezing past the little space in between sae and the wall.

“ah, sorry about that,” you briefly glance up at sae when your arm brushes his. his face is emotionless as he doesn’t acknowledge the graze and turns to oliver. you use this opportunity to bid both of them goodbye and round the corner in the hallway.

you breathe out a sigh of relief at the lightened stack against your chest, hearing sae and oliver’s voices trail farther and farther behind. more so oliver’s than sae’s.

that was a little weird. did sae want to say something to you? but you two haven’t really talked before in the short time you’ve worked here.

you hum to yourself, choosing not to dwell on the usually apathetic man.

walking about a fourth of the way to the locker room, you hear footsteps coming up from behind again. turning your head, your eyes bug out at seeing sae carrying what was once in yours—then oliver’s arms.

immediately, you stop and hold out what’s left of your boxes in front of you, gesturing for him to put his boxes back on your stack.

“let me take those!” you say hurriedly, “you must be busy—”

“i was heading to the locker room anyways,” sae says curtly, huffing out a breath.

“no really! you shouldn’t—”

“it’s fine. what, you think i can’t hold a few boxes?” he quirks an eyebrow up, looking at you pointedly. you glance back and forth between both your boxes before hesitantly turning forward again. only starting to walk when he glances back, seeming to wait for you.

oh well, if he insists…

the walk to the locker room starts off a little awkward at first but eventually, your mouth starts running a little faster than your brain can keep up, as usual. sae nods along as you speak, only offering a few words but nonetheless listens quietly at your ramblings.

you give him a toothy smile when he notes, “you’re rather energetic.”

“thanks! i try to be!”

sae nods at your response and looks at you again, silent. you think maybe he was trying to point out that you’re being a little too energetic but then he gives you another nod.

an encouraging nod.

it’s small but you can’t help the flutter in your chest as you grin and open your mouth again, not missing a beat from before.

maybe itoshi sae isn’t so intimidating afterall, you think to yourself happily.

sae doesn’t turn his gaze away from you as you continue talking his ear off. and he still feels his arm tingling from when you brushed against it earlier.

he wonders how you’re able to come up with so many topics.

you bring up his team, your boss, the dog you saw on the street this morning, how the weather has been getting colder lately. and he simply listens, finding himself liking the way you talk and laugh at yourself. also curious as to when you'll run out of things to say.

that moment doesn’t come though. you only stop when a chill runs up your arms and you shudder in the freezing building.

“oh man, it really has gotten colder lately. sucks that i forgot to bring my jacket. i have this really cute one with—”

“a silver embroidery in the back. the thick red one, right?” he asks nonchalantly.

you pause before laughing, a little taken aback. “yeah! that’s the one! i’m surprised you know, i must’ve worn it one too many times.”

no, sae thinks. you’ve only worn it two times since you started working here, and he’s seen you everyday since. he saw you wearing it on your first day. then saw it again after noticing that you look cute in red. he thought it matched you, with how bright and all it is.

it’s odd, he never fails to look up when hearing your bubbly voice and tinkling laughter filter in the space, his eyes not being able to look away once he found you. his eyes that also saw that you seemed to interact with him a little less compared to his teammates. not avoiding, but not lingering either.

you both are halfway to the locker room when he hopes that that wouldn't be the case next time. that maybe you’ll talk to him again instead of excusing yourself like you normally do when he comes around.

your voice is pleasant and your expressions that come with it are even more pleasant. he wants—hopes to see it again. directed at him.

sae also hopes oliver doesn’t mention anything later, with the way the man knowingly smirked at him earlier. infuriatingly so as he backed up with two palms thrown up when sae was uncharacteristically insistent on taking those boxes off his hands.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Pazzi = Baby Fever

Pairing: Pazzi x Reader

Fandom: WNBA-Dallas Wings/ UConn wbb

Summary: Watching Pazzi with kids triggers dramatic ovulation and TikTok chaos.

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @defntkaizer , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @sayurireidotcom , @let-zizi-yap , @latenighttalkinqwp , @fairyblossomsav , @liloandstitchstan , @kaliblazin , @marleymarleymarleymarley , @latenighttalkinqwp , @atimelessheaven , @wbbszn , @em--n-ems , @bueckersbucket

Dating Pazzi should come with a warning label. Something like: may cause unexpected feelings of baby fever, chaos, and TikTok meltdowns.

I swear it started at WNBA All-Star weekend in July.

Paige was surrounded by kids the whole time—signing jerseys, letting toddlers give her things they’ve made for her, crouching down to their level like she was born for it. Azzi wasn’t much better, holding an arm baby during All-Star weekend.

My hormones? They took notes.

Fast forward to September, and the sightings hadn’t slowed down.

Every time I opened Instagram, there was another clip of Paige interacting with fan’s baby or the little kids that are fans themselves, or Azzi at her family’s cabin with friends and family playing with the little kids and babies.

And the worst part? They both looked so good doing it. Natural. Effortless. Like they’d been preparing for parenthood in secret.

So, when my body reminded me that yes, I was ovulating, the logical part of my brain packed up and left the building.

We were getting ready for dinner one night..Paige in the bathroom drying her hair, post shower.

Azzi sitting on the bed scrolling her phone and I marched in like a woman on a mission.

“Okay,” I blurted. “One of you needs to put a baby in me. ASAP.”

Paige froze mid–hair flip, staring at me in the mirror. “Huh?”

Azzi lowered her phone slowly, raising her brows. “Did you just—?”

“Yes,” I said firmly, crossing my arms. “I can’t keep watching you two with babies and kids and not get one of my own. So. Put one in me.”

Paige turned, arms crossed. “Babe. That’s not how that works.”

“Yeah, no,” Azzi agreed, trying not to laugh. “That’s not… how that works.”

“Excuse me?” I gasped. “So you’re telling me you don’t love me enough to make me a mommy?”

Paige groaned. “Here we go.”

“No, I’m serious!” I stomped my foot for dramatic effect. “You guys are baby whisperers. Every kid you touch smiles like it’s Christmas morning. Meanwhile, I’m over here suffering. Ovulating. And alone!”

Azzi bit her lip, eyes sparkling with amusement. Paige shook her head.

“That’s literally not what we said,” Paige muttered.

“Oh, I’m posting about this,” I declared, grabbing my phone.

Ten minutes later, I had a TikTok up with a sad souls and it’s where Paige and Azzi are walking ahead of me.

Caption: “They told me they don’t love me 💔🥺”

The comments went feral immediately.

• “??? Girl are you okay???”

• “Not Pazzi breaking your heart like this 😭”

• “Do we need to start a #FreeYN campaign??”

Paige commented first: “That’s not what we said and you know it 🙄😂”

Azzi followed: “Stop lying on our names.”

Of course, that only made fans more confused.

A couple of days later, I was in Connecticut helping KK finish her move into her dorm for the 2025–2026 season.

Sarah and Kelis were there, and Ice had popped by too.

It felt like controlled chaos, ya know boxes everywhere, music blasting, KK singing into a hairbrush like it was a mic.

Naturally, KK decided to go live on TikTok.

We were in the middle of unpacking clothes when the comments started rolling in:

“Y/N what did you mean by Azzi and Paige not loving you???”

“Wait are you fr?”

“Pazzi wouldn’t do you like that.”

KK gasped dramatically, turning the camera toward me. “Ohhh, they’re asking about your TikTok, Y/N. Explain yourself.”

I dropped the hoodie in my hands with a sigh. “Yeah, they don’t love me. I asked them to make me a mommy, and they said that’s not how that works. Like…make it make sense.”

The chat blew up instantly.

Right then, Azzi walked in carrying a box. She set it down, gave me that you’re so unserious look, then leaned into the camera.

“We love you,” she said firmly, pointing at me. “But that’s not how that works. And not right now.”

She kissed my forehead, then walked out of frame like she hadn’t just caused chaos.

The live went ballistic.

We ended up staying on live for another hour and a half.

Kelis kept zooming in on my face every time I pouted.

Kk tried teaching me a TikTok dance, which was a disaster.

Sarah kept reading comments out loud like she was narrating a drama series. Ice laughed so hard she cried.

In the middle of it, my phone buzzed with a FaceTime from Paige.

I answered, holding it up so everyone could see.

Paige’s face filled the screen, unimpressed. “Really? You told them on live that we don’t love you?”

I tried to look innocent. “Well, you don’t. You denied me motherhood.”

“Ma,” she said slowly, “be so for real. We can’t give you a baby, and you know that.”

I pursed my lips. “Yeah… yeah. Just get me a puppy and I might take back my statement.”

Paige stared at me for a long beat, deadpan. “A puppy?”

“Yes.”

She sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The room erupted in laughter.

“You’re so dramatic,” Ice said between giggles.

“Puppy fever is just as bad as baby fever,” Sarah added.

Kelis snickers then pokes my cheek before going , “they has you spoiled .”

And Azzi, of course, just smirked and kept folding clothes like she was above it all.

I stayed in Connecticut for a week before flying back to Dallas, where Paige had already returned for on the road games.

And honestly, I thought she’d forgotten about the whole puppy thing.

I even started scrolling rescue accounts myself, daydreaming about floppy ears and tiny paws.

But when I walked into our apartment, dragging my suitcase behind me, I heard Paige call, “Living room!”

I dropped my bag and walked in only to stop dead in my tracks.

There she was, sitting cross-legged on the floor… with the tiniest dachshund puppy I’d ever seen wriggling in her lap.

My jaw dropped. “Oh. My. God.”

Paige grinned, scooping up the six-week-old bundle of brown fur. “Meet your new baby.”

I screamed. Literally screamed. “PAIGE!”

The puppy yipped like she was joining in. I fell to my knees, hands over my mouth. Paige placed the pup gently in my arms, and my heart melted instantly.

“She looks like a cocoa bean,” I whispered, stroking her velvety ears. “Oh my god, she’s perfect.”

Paige smirked. “Then that’s her name. Cocoa Bean.”

Tears prickled at my eyes. “Paige…”

“I figured this was safer than actually trying to make you a mommy,” she teased.

“Shut up,” I laughed through the tears. “I love her.”

Cocoa Bean licked my chin, tail wagging furiously, and I swear I’d never been happier.

The next week was pure chaos.

Cocoa Bean was tiny but mighty, with two modes: sleepy cuddlebug and destructive hurricane.

She chewed my shoelaces, barked at her own reflection, and peed on one of Paige’s socks…which, yes, I laughed at.

Azzi flew in for the weekend, and Cocoa Bean immediately claimed her as a third parent.

Azzi would sit on the couch, scrolling her phone, and Cocoa would wiggle into her lap like she belonged there.

One night, I pouted, “I think she loves you more than me.”

Azzi smirked, scratching Cocoa’s belly. “Well, I am the fun parent.”

“Excuse me?” Paige cut in. “If anyone’s the fun parent, it’s me.”

I crossed my arms. “So what does that make me?”

They exchanged a look, then said in unison: “The dramatic one.”

Cocoa barked like she agreed.

Traitor.

The best part? My TikTok comments went from “Are you okay???” to “Pazzi really does love you 🥺” after I posted a video of Cocoa Bean asleep on my chest.

Caption: “Meet my daughter 💕🐾”

Paige commented: “You’re welcome 🙄”

Azzi added: “Already spoiled smh.”

And the fans ate it up.

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                 -Thank You For Reading!💚💙

                             -prettygirl-gabi✨️💗

[thedivinereverie]

Undoing

spencer reid x f!bau!reader

rating: 18+, minors do not interact.

synopsis: getting hired at the bau has you rekindling with an old friend. when the job proves just how dangerous it really is, you don’t want to waste another moment and it’s one that leads you both to ultimately confess what you should have years ago.

warnings: canon typical violence, both reader and spencer are briefly held at gunpoint, friends to lovers, lots and lots of feelings, a sickening amount of fluff, mentions of anxiety, spencer has a nickname for reader, smut (f & m oral receiving, unprotected piv, fingering, brief handjob), reader is nondescript aside from being shorter than spencer, no use of y/n.

word count: 7k (dev stfu challenge 2.0: level inexplicably impossible)

a/n: every time this man pops up on my screen i wanna yell #needdat

Spencer Reid was practically numb to the element of surprise. 

From his own magic tricks to cases he works on with the BAU, there’s very little that’s jarring to him. 

He recognizes patterns, puts together clues like pieces to a puzzle in record time, uses his brilliant mind to the utmost capacity to take down some of the most downright evil humans he’s ever seen. 

What he doesn’t expect, though, is for you to walk through the glass doors of the BAU on a chilly late November morning. 

Everyone is at their desks in the bullpen, laughing amongst themselves before one of them spots you and whispers to everyone else. They wonder who you are as you make your way to the unit chief’s office. 

They make presumptive guesses about you. Kind but confident, smart but humble, and the most obvious: you’re a stunner. 

Spencer freezes in his chair when he finally recognizes you as you’re knocking on Aaron’s door. 

“What, cat got your tongue Pretty Boy?” Derek teases, and Spencer waves him off. He squints his eyes at you as if that’ll help his brain recognize faster that you are indeed the woman he secretly fell in love with in college. 

“Look at him, he’s blushing,” Emily points out, and Spencer makes it a point to glare at her. 

“I am not,” he says defensively. 

“Oh, you soooo are. You think she’s pretty,” JJ joins the mix, sitting at the edge of his desk. 

“She’s beautiful,” he whispers. JJ raises an eyebrow at him, and Derek is about to say something to further embarrass him, but you and Aaron walk out of his office. 

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet our newest member of the team,” he says. 

You wave at everyone and flash them a dazzling smile, introducing yourself before your eyes stop short on Spencer. 

Anything else you were going to say instantly dies on your tongue. It’s like the world suddenly moves in slow motion. You furrow your brows, blinking a few times to make sure your mind wasn’t playing a cruel joke on you. 

“Spencer?” You say, and in true Reid fashion, he gives you that awkward yet charming smile. 

“Hi, angel.” It’s breathless and familiar, the way he calls you his nickname for you. 

Derek looks between you two. “You two know each other?” 

Your eyes tear away from Spencer, almost regretfully so. You meet Derek’s curious gaze, offering him a small smile and a nod. “We went to college together. Had a couple of the same psych classes.” 

What they didn’t know (and quite frankly didn’t need to know) is that you and the good doctor have a past. A history. Not a bad one, but one with missing pieces and unfinished business. 

“Huh. Well I’ll be damned. Welcome to the team, Pretty Girl.” 

“Morgan, it’s her first thirty minutes here and you’re already giving her a nickname?” JJ asks, sporting a smile of pure disbelief. 

“Hey, that’s how we roll around here. Now we have a duo. Pretty Boy and Pretty Girl,” he says nonchalantly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

You softly chuckle as you turn back to Aaron. “Sir,” you say, and he nods before shaking your hand. You make your way down to the bullpen to stop in front of Spencer, still not fully believing that he’s actually right here in front of you. 

“I missed you,” you whisper. He nods, and a familiar look flashes in his hazel eyes. 

I know. I missed you too. 

“You’re all grown up now, Spence,” you softly laugh, and that pulls a smile from him before he takes it upon himself to wrap his arms around you. 

Gone was the incredibly-shy-around-women Spencer, and instead replaced with someone who exudes familiarity in the way he holds you. 

Everyone looks at you both in pure shock. Never have they seen Spencer so… blatantly comfortable around someone like this, let alone initiate any sort of physical contact. 

“You are too.” 

The sigh of relief you let out is one that isn’t missed. You’re comfortable in his arms, and the team takes notice right away how you melt naturally into him. 

“Looks like we have a lot of catching up to do.” 

“Indeed we do.” 

“So what was Pretty Boy like in college?” 

You look up at Spencer as his arms unravel from you, and you smile before turning your attention to Derek. 

“Huge partier,” you deadpan. Spencer’s lips twitch in amusement as you keep a straight face, not veering your gaze from Derek for a second. 

“There’s absolutely no way.” 

“Oh yeah, you should’ve seen him at all the frat parties doing keg stands and shotgunning beer.” 

“Okay now you’re just messing with me.” 

Everyone laughs as you break your façade, shaking your head. 

“He was quiet. Great project partner. Coffee and croissants were our go-to when we studied together in the library until one in the morning.” 

“That’s so sweet,” Emily says. 

The tips of Spencer’s ears started to turn pink. 

He reminisced about those nights a lot. How you were always in a cozy sweater, eyes bright despite the fact that you were exhausted from studying, and your perfume — sweet, but not sickeningly so. It was soft. Gentle. Very much like you were back then. 

But he could easily clock the hardened exterior you’ve grown. Can see it in your eyes, the way they’re more serious. Like they’ve seen stuff they shouldn’t have. And, with this job, he knows you’re bound to see a lot more. 

He still sees the brightness in them, though. He also intends to find out who or what has made you put these walls up around you. 

If he could find out this much about you in only the few minutes you’ve been standing next to him, he wonders what he could uncover in hours. Days. Months, even. 

And so he does just that. He asks you to get coffee with him on Saturday, and you easily oblige. 

You beam when you see him, smile so wide it makes your cheeks hurt. He’s dressed cozily, adorning a gray cable knit sweater with a white collared button-up long sleeve underneath, paired with some black jeans, Converse, and a purple scarf wrapped around his neck. 

“Hey Spence,” you greet, bringing him into a short hug before separating from him too soon for your liking. 

He grins down at you and opens the café door, motioning for you to walk in first. You softly thank him as you stand in line, and the heat from his body beside you sends a shiver down your spine. 

“Hey, would you mind finding us a spot to sit? I remember your order,” he says, and you look up at him with a raised brow. 

“What if it’s changed since the last time I saw you, huh?” you tease, and he grins and shakes his head. 

“I know you, angel. You can’t fool me,” he says. 

“‘M holding you to that, Reid.” You squint your eyes at him playfully before shooting him a grin and turning on your heel to find a spot. You find a small, cozy booth in the corner near the windows that looks out to the rainy day and bustling street. 

Spencer returns to you a few minutes later with a paper cup in hand, setting it down before you with a butter croissant on the side. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, and he grins as he takes his seat across from you. 

“So,” he begins, and you take a sip of the hot coffee with two creams and two sugars in it. You hum in delight, because he had, in fact, not forgotten how you like your coffee. 

“You and your eidetic memory,” you softly laugh, and his lips tug up as he takes a sip of his own coffee. He prided himself on remembering practically everything about you — or at least the parts you let him in to see. 

“How’s Diana?” you ask gently, not wanting to overstep. It was more like slowly prying off the band-aid. 

He’d told you about his mother one late night when you couldn’t really focus on the study of Freud’s psychoanalysis. 

He’d blurted it when you began to go off-topic and discuss your family. 

My dad left when I was young, and my mother has schizophrenia. She’s in a long-term care facility in Vegas.  

You kept this secret sacred and close to your heart. Didn’t tell a soul, because it wasn’t yours to tell. That, and you’d never do that to Spencer. 

You remember he stared at you with this almost childlike look when the words spilled past his lips. All you’d done was reach across the table, grab his hand, and squeeze it softly. 

And you didn’t let go. 

He clears his throat. “She’s good. I went to go see her a few weeks back actually, when we had a case in Vegas. I still write to her weekly.” 

You smile softly at his words. “I’m glad she’s doing good,” you say. 

He furrows his brows, gaze shifting to the sleeve on his coffee cup as he fiddles with it. “She actually asked about you.” 

You can’t hide your surprised expression. “Did she?” 

He nods. “She said, and I quote, ‘when are you bringing that pretty girl around again? She was nice.’”

You laugh at that, shaking your head. “And what if she meant someone else?” You ask, folding your arms over your torso, leaning forward so your elbows rest on the table. 

“You’re the only woman I’ve ever brought around my mother,” he says. He huffs through his nose softly, eyes shifting back up to you. 

You’d gone with him one time to visit her, back when it was spring break and your family was going on a cruise that you didn’t want to tag along for. You’d asked him what his plans were for the week, and when he told you he was going to Vegas to visit his mom, you’d been asked to join him. He found out you were going to stay behind at school for the week, and he didn’t want you to be alone. 

That was the week that you’d almost confessed it all to him. How you felt, how you could picture a whole future with him in your mind, how badly you wanted to be his, how much you wanted to kiss him and were praying to god it would lead to more. 

But none of that happened. 

Because you were both terrified of crossing the fine line between being best friends and potential lovers. Where it would leave the both of you once your careers took off and you wouldn’t physically be close anymore. 

He’s everything you’ve ever wanted. Even after he left for training at the academy, you tried to get over him. Tried to go out on other dates, tried distracting yourself from the thoughts of him that kept you up late at night. 

Nothing worked, though. Nobody compared to the man sitting before you. 

“I’d love to go with you to see her again sometime,” you finally say, realizing you got so wrapped up in your own thoughts. 

His eyes light up at those words. 

He recalls how nervous he was at first to bring you around his mother, mainly because she doesn’t do so well with strangers. But you’d sat with her and chatted like two old friends, conversation flowing with ease. You were so gentle and patient with her. It came naturally to you, and that moment was the nail in the coffin for Spencer. 

That’s when he knew he loved you. 

“Oh, yeah, she’d love that. I’d love that, too.” 

His face tinged a beautiful shade of pink. 

“So what have you been up to? You know, since Caltech.” 

Your eyes drift down to his hands as they still fiddle with the cardboard sleeve. You’ve pictured those very hands all over you, in you, holding you, caressing you. You lick your lips as you cross your legs, eyes snapping back up to him. 

You twist your mouth to the side before letting out a deep breath. 

“After I graduated, I got recruited to be a forensic analyst for the NYPD. Enjoyed it for a while, but my boss could tell it wasn’t stimulating my mind enough, I guess. Her words,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “So she suggested I apply to the academy and if I got in, put in a transfer to work for the BAU… and here I am.”  

“Here you are,” he nearly whispers, and you hold his gaze for what seems like an eternity. 

Something intense flashes behind his eyes. Longing, desperation. And then something darker. Want, need, carnal fucking desire. 

Because Spencer Reid has wanted you for as long as he can remember. He didn’t believe in fate, but he’d lost you once and the universe brought you back to him. 

He wasn’t going to lose you again. 

“Angel,” he whispers, and your eyes flutter shut at the way his lips wrap around that word. It’s full of unsaid sureties, and it sends a shiver down your spine. 

You’re about to reach out for him — then his phone rings. You roll your lips into your mouth as you look outside, trying (and probably failing miserably) to act nonchalant. 

“It’s JJ,” he says. He picks up the phone, his eyes never once leaving you. “Hey JJ. Okay, thanks. Be there soon.” 

“We have a case,” he grimaces, and you sport a soft smile. 

“Better get moving, then.” 

“Angel,” he calls, gripping your elbow gently after you both get up to head out of the door. 

“Yeah, Spence?” 

“We can talk more later. After the case,” he reassures you, and you nod. 

You both arrive at the bureau together, which raises a playful eyebrow from Derek. Spencer ignores him and you pretend not to notice, but everyone can see the matching coffee cups in your hands. It’s no secret you were with Spencer just moments prior. 

You all gather in the briefing room. Realization hits you: it’s your first official case with the team. Nerves seep into your bones as you intently listen to Penelope go over the gruesome details of the case — women being killed after being assaulted on a remote highway off the coast of Oregon. The team volleys questions and speculations off of each other, immediately starting to build a profile for the unsub. 

You observe them, taking mental notes as your eyes cast down to the case file in front of you. 

“Wheels up in thirty,” Aaron says, and everyone disperses to get their go bags. 

“I know it can be a bit overwhelming at first,” Spencer pipes up. You look up at him as you walk out of the briefing room together. 

“A little. But I’ll catch on quickly.” 

His mouth twitches. “You always have.” 

-

In only two days, the team had narrowed down who the unsub was. The team and Depoe Bay police surround his place of residence, guns drawn and waiting for a signal from Aaron. Once he gives the go-ahead through your earpieces, Derek kicks down the front door while you, Spencer and Emily go through the back. 

You’re vigilant, laser-focused on any movement in the back of the house. You open the bedroom door and don’t see anyone in there at first. 

You hear a creak and you whip around, suddenly staring down the barrel of a gun. 

The man has a mean snarl as his finger lays on the trigger. 

You hear everyone yell “clear!” in the background, but you know they’ll find out really soon that something is wrong where you’re at. 

You hold your hands up in surrender as you keep eye contact with the unsub. 

You swallow harshly. “You don’t need to do this,” you say, trying your damndest to keep your voice level and calm. 

“Don’t fucking tell me what I need to do and don’t do,” he snaps. 

You’re trying to rack your brain as to how you can talk him down, when you hear your name being called in your ear piece. It’s Aaron asking if you’re all clear. 

Seconds later, Spencer is at the bedroom door with his gun pointed at the unsub. 

“Put it down,” Spencer says harshly. You don’t think you’ve ever heard that much authority in his tone… ever. 

His usually bright, warm hazel eyes have turned dark and harsh. Unforgiving. His brow furrows as he stares down the unsub as the gun points at him now. 

He doesn’t even flinch. 

“Back the hell away from me, boy. I’ll shoot you both.” 

“You shoot a federal agent? You’ll get life with no chance of parole,” you say. 

Your heart pounds against your ribcage and your mouth runs dry. You can’t stand seeing a gun being pointed at Spencer. 

The unsub takes his eyes off of Spencer to turn around to face you again. 

“I got nothin’ to lose anymore, bitch,” he spits. 

That’s when Derek moves in to stealthily tackle the man to the ground. Spencer kicks the gun away from his hand as Derek cuffs him, yanking him up forcefully before shoving him out of the room like a ragdoll. 

Aaron and Emily come into the room seconds later, both assessing you and Spencer with a quick once-over. 

“Are you okay?” Aaron asks, and you nod. 

“Such a warm welcome to the BAU,” you darkly joke, and you swear you see Aaron’s mouth twitch with the slightest amount of amusement. 

Emily huffs a laugh and Spencer closes his eyes and shakes his head. 

“Glad you’re alright, agent.” Aaron nods at you before you all walk back outside. 

You step a few feet away from everyone, sucking in a lungful of the crisp air before shakily exhaling. You do this a few times to calm your erratic nerves, and the footsteps you hear in the gravel behind you makes you look over your shoulder. 

Your body relaxes when you see it’s Spencer. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks. His voice is gentle, patient. A complete one-eighty from inside the house. 

“Seeing a gun pointed directly at you,” you start,  shaking your head. You can’t even finish your sentence. 

You try so hard to rid the image from your mind, but you know it’s useless. It’s the first time you’ll see him like that, and unfortunately, probably not the last. 

He nods. “I know. I felt the same way when it was you staring down the gun.” 

Your eyes are glossy when you meet his gaze once again. 

“Let’s get you home,” he whispers. 

He knows exactly how you feel. The adrenaline from the first few cases is beyond draining, anxiety in the pit of your gut making a permanent home for itself. 

You’re quiet on the jet back to Quantico. Spencer sits by your side the entire flight home. 

Everyone else tries to get some shut-eye, but you’re wide awake, still trembling from the events that took place hours prior. 

It doesn’t stop, even when you get home. Spencer insisted he saw you up to your apartment to make sure you were okay and safe for the night. He was just about to leave when you called out his name in the softest voice possible. 

He turns to face you, eyebrows drawn together in worry. 

You swallow. Your eyes cast to the side, lips twisted as you contemplate even asking him such a huge favor. 

“Do you mind staying the night? Just for tonight. I–” you sigh, meeting his gaze again. “I don’t want to be alone.” 

Spencer would do anything for you. You’d say jump, he’d ask how high. 

“Of course, angel.” 

You exhale a sigh of relief. 

You head toward your bedroom to take off your makeup and change into your pajamas, and when you come back out, you see Spencer in his sweatpants and old college shirt with his glasses perched on his nose. 

You smile at the sight of him. He looks so comfy, and you want nothing more than to kiss him right this instant. 

His eyes travel down your body, taking in your own appearance. An old oversized crewneck with knitted thigh high socks. The column of his throat works as he swallows, mouth popping open. 

“Let me get you a pillow and some blankets. The couch pulls out,” you say, trying to ease the tension that thickened between the two of you. 

He nods, and you feel his eyes burning holes into your body as you walk away. 

You return to the living room and start to make his bed on the couch, careful not to be in super close proximity to him. 

You don’t think you or your nerves can handle that right now. 

You fluff up the pillow and lay it down, stepping back to admire your handiwork. 

“Hopefully it’s comfortable. Thank you again for staying,” you say. He smiles softly at you before nodding, sitting down on the couch. 

“There’s food and water in the fridge and snacks in the cupboard. Help yourself to anything you’d like.” And with that, you spin on your heel and head for your bedroom. 

You close your door almost all the way, keeping it slightly ajar if he needs anything. 

You slide under your covers, turning off your bedside lamp. It’s not long before the light in the living room turns off as well, only a faint glow coming from the nightlight you have out there. 

You lay flat on your back, shutting your eyes as you try to will yourself to sleep. When that doesn’t work, you flip to each side to try and get comfortable, but to no avail. 

This goes on for probably forty-five minutes before you softly groan in frustration. 

“Fuck,” you whisper. An idea pops into your mind, but you’re not so sure Spencer will take you up on it. Him staying over just to put you at ease has already been a huge favor in itself. 

You don’t want to keep asking for more, but ultimately, your feet find the floor before your brain can stop you. You pad toward your bedroom door, and when you go to open it, you gasp in surprise to see Spencer already there with his fist raised as if he was about to knock. 

“Spence,” you breathe. “You startled me.” 

“Sorry,” he says, lowering his fist. “I heard you groan and was going to ask if you were okay.” 

“Can’t sleep. I was actually on my way to come ask you if you maybe wanted to share a bed with me, just for the night.”

“Oh, um–”  he starts, and you shake your head. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It was too much of me to ask. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“Angel,” he says, hands softly gripping your upper arms. “You’re not making me uncomfortable, I promise,” he reassures you. 

You swallow thickly and nod, stepping back to let him into your bedroom. He slips into bed beside you, and his warmth immediately puts you at ease. You’re both laying on your backs for a few minutes before you turn to your side, facing him. 

“Spence?” you whisper, not wanting to wake him if he’s already fallen asleep. 

“Hm?” 

“Are you super tired?”

He turns on his side to face you. “Not really, no.” 

“What is it you wanted to talk about? At the café a couple of days back?” 

He stills. He searches your eyes in the dark, and you can see the wheels turning in his head. It’s his signature he wants to say something look, but he doesn’t know how. 

“You can talk to me,” you reassure him. 

He’s quiet for a few beats longer. “It’s the way you were looking at me,” he finally says. “It… friends don’t exactly look at each other the way you were looking at me, and it got me thinking—hoping, really—that you feel the same as I do.” 

“How do you feel?” 

You need to hear him say it. You need it to be real. 

“You’re the only woman in the whole entire world that makes me feel the way you do. I feel like I can’t breathe without you. I just… I just think that I’d search for you in every lifetime, and I’m so lucky I get to experience you in this one.” 

His words completely knock the air out of your lungs. Your eyes water and your nose stings, and suddenly, you want to sob. 

You lean forward and cup the side of his face gently, swiping your thumb over his striking cheekbone. 

“Nobody in this universe even holds a candle to you, Spencer Reid.” 

Your words are soft but hold so much weight to them, and he presses his body against yours. 

“Please let me kiss you. I need it. I need you more than anything,” he nearly whimpers, and it’s the start of your undoing. 

You lean forward an inch more, and your lips brush. The contact sends a shiver down your spine, and you feel his stuttered breath before he closes the gap between you both. 

His plush lips push onto yours, and he gently grabs your cheek as he kisses you like his life depends on it. You both have waited so long for this moment, and now that it’s finally happening, it seems insanely surreal. 

You moan softly into the kiss, and he swallows your little sounds before it turns into something desperate. Something much, much hungrier. 

His tongue swipes against your bottom lip, and you don’t hesitate to let him in. You slide your hand through his mussed curls at the back of his head, tugging softly. He groans into your mouth, and he can feel your body writhe with need beside him. 

“Tell me what you want,” he pants, forehead resting against yours. 

“You, Spencer. I want you. Every single part of you. Your beautiful mind, your quirks, your fears and anxieties, your love. I want you in the most raw and emotional way possible,” you confess. 

He rears back as he stares at you in disbelief. You furrow your brows as you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, anxiety slinking through your bones in fear that you might’ve overstepped. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you. For this.” 

“Then show me.”

“Are- are you sure? Because once we cross that line, there’s no going back.” He traces the side of your face with his fingers. 

“I know, Spence. I’m sure. I’ve wanted this for a very long time.” 

“And so two fools fell in love,” he jokes, and you flash a grin at him while your heart stutters at that one word that changes it all: love. 

You bring him to you again, pressing your lips to his. He trails his hand from your face down to your throat, over your collarbone and down your chest. His thumb brushes against a pebbled nipple and you gasp. He smiles against your lips before continuing down your torso, finally making it to the hem of the crewneck before slipping his hand underneath the warm material. 

He’s tracing you like he would reading a book. Featherlight to the touch but intentional enough to tease you and drive you wild. 

You shiver at his touch as his thumb rubs slow, sensual circles over your hip. The anticipation weighs heavy in your core, and you think you’ll die if he doesn’t touch you where you need him most. 

His fingers deftly swipe over the hemline of your panties, and you lift your hips instinctually. 

“Can I?” His voice is gentle, lips not straying far from yours.

”Please. I’ve always had a thing for your hands, you know,” you say to soften the tension, but that only pulls an extremely rare smirk from him. 

He kisses you again, but this time, he slips his hand down the front of your panties. You gasp as he circles your clit with featherlight motions. He slides his middle finger through your slit, coating his digit in your arousal. 

“These hands, angel?” He whispers against your lips, and you inhale sharply as his teasing ministrations escalate. 

Spencer can count on one hand the amount of sexual partners he’s ever had in his life. But nothing, and no one, compares to the way you preen at his touch, so reactive and responsive to him as a whole. 

It’s the way you writhe for him. The sounds you make. The wanton moan that slips so easily from your throat when he tests the waters, pushing one slim finger into you. Then another. 

You can literally hear how wet you are for him as he sets his fingers to curl in and out of you at a steady pace. You bury your face in his neck, and part of you is still chalking this up to be nothing more than a wet dream. 

But when he whispers how good you feel around his fingers, how wet you are for him, when he kisses you stupid and steals your breath—it’s one hundred percent real. 

“You’re so good, angel. So good.” 

You whimper at the name, clenching around his fingers. You grab a fistful of his shirt as he moves them at a faster pace, and that pit in your core continues to build until it’s a white hot fury in your bones. 

“Spencer,” you cry, throwing your head back against your pillow. 

“I’ve got you. Let go, beautiful. I’ve got you.” 

His words send you soaring over the edge, and your first orgasm rips through your body. He whispers praises into your neck, kissing your hot skin lovingly as he uses his free hand to stroke your arm.

He slowly pulls his fingers out of you, and you shiver at the loss of contact. He stares down at your slick on his fingers, licking his lips as he tilts his head. You can tell he’s contemplating something, but out of embarrassment, you speak up first. 

“What is it?” you ask, and his eyes snap to yours. 

“I need to taste you.” 

You furrow your brows. “Like, lick your fingers?” 

He chuckles softly then, and it sends a fresh wave of arousal to your core. 

“No, angel. I need to taste you.” 

Realization dawns on you. Oh, fuck. 

“Are you sure? I mean, you don’t have t—”

You can’t even finish your sentence because he’s already moving down your bed, sliding your crewneck up so it sits at the middle of your torso. 

His eyes fall to the wet patch on your panties, and he swallows before looking up at you. 

“I’m a thousand percent sure,” he murmurs. 

Any words you’re going to say instantly die on your tongue, so you opt for a head nod and bite your lip. 

He hooks his fingers into the side of your panties, and you lift your hips so he slides them down with ease. 

You always thought Spencer would be more nervous and jittery when it came to being intimate like this, but he seems so sure of every move he makes. 

You guess he’s either done this enough times, or he’s studied the hell out of whatever books to be as precise as possible.  

His grip on your thighs brings your attention back to him. He softly grins at you, and you reach down to run a hand through his soft hair before he dips his head down to press slow, teasing kisses to your inner thighs. 

“You’re perfect,” he whispers. 

You watch him as he inches closer to your aching cunt, and you’re about to plead for him until he looks up at you one last time before licking a long stripe up from your hole to your clit. 

You choke on a moan, never breaking eye contact until he closes his eyes and hums in what seems to be pure fucking delight. 

He goes on to devour you like a man starved. 

“Spencer, oh my god,” you moan breathlessly, fingers tugging at his curls as his tongue works expertly. 

He switches between rhythmic licks and swirls, then sucking on your clit with just the right amount of pressure. 

He finds the perfect spot and rhythm, and it has you pleading behind gasps and moans for him not to stop. 

You writhe your hips in tandem with his tongue and he moans into you, the vibration shooting a tingle down your spine. 

Then he starts to fuck you with his tongue. You sit up on your elbows with a gasp, and each breath you let out is a louder moan of his name. 

You wouldn’t be surprised if your neighbors heard you at this point, and while you were a respectable person and nice neighbor, you really couldn’t give a fuck right now with the way this man is ravenous for you. 

You feel that coil tighten in the pit of your core once again, and all you can hear is your own desperate voice sighing pleasepleaseplease and how wet you sound on Spencer’s tongue. 

You’ve decided then and there that Spencer Reid ruining you is inevitable, and you accept your fate as you gush around his tongue. 

You cry out his name one last time before he relents, giving you one last thorough lick before placing kisses on your thighs again. He trails his lips back up your body, taking the crewneck with him. 

He stops just beneath your breasts, and he gives you a questioning look before you nod your head in a haze. He slips the material up and over your head, tossing it somewhere beside you before bringing your body close to his. 

“You taste divine, by the way,” he softly laughs, and your face heats in shyness. He tilts your chin up to connect your lips with his, and you softly moan as you taste yourself on his tongue. 

You continue to kiss for a few minutes before you start to do some exploring of your own. Your hands roam down his torso, fingertips teasing just above the waistband of his sweatpants. 

“Let me make you feel good too, Spence.” 

He nods in confirmation, and you smile against him as you begin to kiss him again to ease some nerves. Your hand travels down to tease the outline of him, but what you weren’t expecting is his size. 

The words fly out of your mouth before you can even think to stop them. 

“Jesus, Spencer. You’re fucking hung,” you gasp against his lips, pulling back from him in the slightest. Even in the dark room, you can see that delicious rosy blush that begins to adorn his cheeks. 

“I– um, yeah? I guess?” he awkwardly chuckles. 

“Sorry, I– I’ve just never been with anyone your size.” 

Maybe it was the heat of the moment. Or maybe he just knew, deep down, that you two would always find a way back to each other, which is why his next words are presumptuous as hell. The weight of them still packed a punch, though. 

“It’s a good thing we have the rest of our lives for you to get used to the size of me.” 

The rest of our lives. 

You lock that away for later, focusing on how his hands tremble as you slowly pump him through the fabric of his clothes. You move your body down, giving him a reassuring smile as he gives you the go-ahead to tug the material down to his thighs. 

His cock springs free, and you try so hard not to marvel at the sheer size of him. The fact that he’s been walking around this whole time with that is utterly unbelievable. 

You lick your hand before gently grabbing onto his length, beginning to pump him slowly. You rub a thumb over his head, collecting the pre cum that’s beaded at his tip. He shivers at the touch, and you grin up at him while giving him a few more slow strokes before moving your head down. 

You start off slow at first, licking the underside of his cock while tracing the vein with your tongue. He groans softly, and his sounds only spur you on further. You swirl your tongue over his tip, sucking lightly before taking him deeper into your mouth. 

“That feels so good,” Spencer mutters, voice strained as he tries to keep his composure. 

You work your mouth on his cock, taking him as deep as you possibly can without gagging. Your hand works the part of his length that your mouth can’t reach, and his moans grow louder. 

Hearing him say your name in such a filthy way has you rubbing your thighs together, because fuck, he sounds downright delicious. 

“So– so good for me, angel. Please don’t stop. Please,” he pleads, and you moan around him as your eyes roll back at his begging. You find a nice rhythm, mouth working in tandem with your hand and a newfound desire blooming through you to be his undoing, too. 

His breathing is heavy and you can tell that he’s close, so you focus on his head before you’re nearly ripped away from him. 

You blink, staring up at him with a confused expression. He’s heaving, face red and sweaty. 

“I don’t wanna come yet,” he clarifies. 

“What–?” 

“Please tell me you’re on birth control.” 

You sit up on your knees before him, nodding. “I am.” 

“I want to feel all of you,” he pauses for a beat. “Only if you’re comfortable with it.” 

You got his message loud and clear, and quite frankly, you’ve dreamed of this a thousand times. 

You move your body up so you’re straddling his hips. You lean down to kiss him with fervor, moaning as his cock makes contact with your aching cunt. 

He screws his eyes shut when you pull apart from him and sit straight up. You’re hovering above his length, waiting for him patiently as he tries to regain his composure. 

He looks up at you, biting his lip before nodding. You lick your lips and grab his stiff length, swiping his head through your slick folds before lining him up and sinking down slowly onto him. 

The stretch is something so sinfully delicious. You close your eyes as you let out a shaky breath, and his hands grip your hips like a vice. You both moan in unison once you reach the hilt. You move your hips slightly, trying hard to adjust to his size, but his fingers dig into your flesh. 

“Please stay still, angel,” he whimpers, and you furrow your brows. 

“Spence–”

“Please. Or else I’m going to cum and this will be over before it even starts.” 

Fuck. 

Knowing that you affect him like this has you clenching around him, and he groans at your warmth wrapped around him tightly so.

His fingers flex against your hips as his eyes roam over your bare body. He looks down at where you two are connected, and you feel his cock twitch inside you. 

“You truly are the most beautiful woman in the world,” he murmurs. 

You cast your eyes down to the side, shaking your head with a small laugh. 

“Thanks, Spence.” 

“I mean it, baby. C’mere,” he says, and you look back at him before leaning down so your face is mere inches from his. 

He cups your cheeks in his hands, bringing your lips to his in a slow, tender kiss. His hands slide down to your hips without breaking the kiss, and he moves them up for you. You whimper at the feeling of him slowly impaling you over and over at a torturous pace. 

This is exactly what should’ve happened all those years ago in Vegas. You savor the moment even more so that it’s happening right now. 

“Spencer, please. I need to move.” 

“Go ahead, pretty girl.” 

You sigh against his lips as you straighten up again, rolling your hips faster before you find a good balance to finally move up and down. His hands grip your hips for support, and soon enough, he finds himself fucking up into you. 

He can’t help it. He wants to see the way your pretty face twists into pleasure as you glide up and down easily on his cock. You feel the mess of your arousal between your thighs and on his wiry hair at the base of his length, and such proof that you’re so turned on by him only spurs him on to wrangle your third orgasm out of you. 

One of his hands slips between your legs, mercilessly rubbing at your clit. You toss your head back as you silently scream his name, legs beginning to shake wildly. 

“C’mon angel. Give me one more. I know you’re almost there,” he says, voice cracking with desperation. You can tell he’s close too, so you clamp down on him and cry out as one last white hot flame rips through your body viscerally. 

You’ve completely come undone for him. 

He bucks up into you a couple of more times before he stills, body crashing back down onto your bed as he fills you with his release. You let out a sob as you slump forward, and Spencer gathers you in his arms only to pull you against his body. 

His heartbeat is a match for yours—erratic. 

“You did so good for me,” he says, kissing your hair before resting his head against the pillows. 

“Me? You’re a walking mystery, Spence.” 

He laughs at that, and your heart completely melts at the sweet sound. 

“How so?” 

“You’re usually so shy and reserved around other people. You really surprised me tonight.” 

“Right. Around other people, but you’re my person.” 

You turn your head to look up at him with glassy eyes. 

“And you’re mine.” 

He leans down to kiss you again, giving your shoulder an affectionate squeeze before rubbing his nose against yours. 

You feel him harden in you once again, and you bite your lip to stifle a laugh. 

“You truly have no idea what you do to me.” 

You grin at him as you turn your bodies over, so this time he’s on top of you. His hips slowly roll into yours once, and you softly inhale at the feeling. 

You link your hands behind his neck and lean up, kissing his cheek before your lips find his ear. 

“It’s a good thing we’ve got the rest of our lives for me to find out then, Pretty Boy.” 

quick shoutout to @ananonymousaffair for letting me ramble about this fic and giving me feedback 🤍 much love to you

dividers by @.saradika-graphics

[stateofmarauders]

ALL TOO WELL

remus lupin x fem!muggle!reader

summary: because of his lycantrophy, remus tried to keep you away until he gives up and runs back into your arms. because of that, you broke up and got back together so many times you can’t count. you don’t know if you’re going to be together forever but you knew one thing for sure. you were going to remember it all too well.

warnings; reader is 20 and remus is 21-22 (so is lily, sirius, etc). reader is lily’s cousin (so random but who cares), implied sex, angst, remus’s self hatred and not feeling enough, ik that september isn’t a cold month but let’s pretend ok??

w/c; 7.8k

a/n: catch all the taylor references challenge

September 6th 1982. - Scarf

“They will love you,” Remus comforted you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry, it’ll all be alright.”

You caught your lower lip in between your lips, his words did little to calm your nerves. Of course, he had to say it’ll be okay. If he said his parents would hate you, you wouldn’t come in the first place.

He sighed when you didn’t respond and turned his whole body to you, his hands immediately travelling to hold your face.

“Just be yourself, okay?” he asked gently. “Seriously, the chances that you fuck it up are zero.”

You managed to nod, even if you didn’t believe him entirely. The chances that you were going to screw up were fifty-fifty. Never zero.

You watched him knock on the door and you formed your hands into fists, causing your nails to dig into your palms. The doors opened five seconds later, revealing a kind-looking woman in her mid or late fourties. She immediately smiled at Remus and pulled him into a tight hug, even kissing his cheek.

You had to smile at the interaction, heart warming. Remus told you how much he loved his mum and now you finally got to meet the woman he spoke so highly of. It made you even more nervous.

After they pulled away, her eyes immediately found you. And before you could even say hello, her arms were wrapped around your neck. It took you three whole seconds to hug her, taken aback by the sudden affection.

“Mum,” Remus spoke behind her, smile tugging at his lips, “let her breathe.”

She eventually pulled away from you, but you didn’t mind her embrace at all. She took your appearence in and then said, “I can’t believe Remus was hiding a pretty girl like you from us for so long. I’m Hope, by the way.”

You turned red at her words, giving her a nervous laugh before shaking her hand. Hope then hushed you both inside. Remus reached intertwined his fingers with yours as you walked through the door.

Something about it felt like home somehow. You removed your red scarf from around your neck and hung it over the banister. You didn’t know why, you just did.

Remus helped to take off your coat, hanging it by the door right next to his before leading you from the hallway into the dining room with his hand on your lower back.

There was an older man sitting at the table, reading the newspaper with furrowed eyebrows. Upon hearing the noise of you two, he looked up with a smile. He stood up and immediately went to introduce himself to you.

“I’m Lyall. Nice to meet you.” The resemblance between him and Remus was unmistakeable.

“I’m Y/N,” you smiled politely. “Thank you for having me.”

“Well, someone has to make sure my son’s treating you well,” Lyall jokes, his eyes glistening. You hear Remus groan but ignore him as Lyall leads you to sit down.

Your boyfriend takes a seat next to you and moments later, Hope approaches the table with a big pot of whatever she cooked.

The dinner seemed to be going flawlessly. Hope and Lyall asked you all about the muggle word since they were Halfbloods and didn’t know it that well. Remus had his left hand on your lower thigh almost the entire time, drawing circles whenever he felt you were getting nervous again. He had this weird sixth sense to feel it. Had to be something magical, you were sure.

After everyone finished eating, you helped Hope to clean up despite the fact that she said she was forbidding you to do so.

When all the dishes were clean, Hope got the brilliant idea to show you pictures of Remus from when he was a kid and soon, you found yourself leaning against the kitchen counter with the photo album opened right in front of you. You were laughing at the photograph of Remus in a twin-sized bed with ridiculously big glasses – that belonged to Lyall – on his face.

When your boyfriend came strolling into the kitchen to check on you, he froze.

You smirked when you noticed him and reached for his hand to pull him closer.

“You were so adorable,” you told him and gave his cheek a peck. You watched his cheeks turning red at both the emberassment of the photo album and your affection. You turned your attention back to Hope.

“Oh, and this,” Hope cooed and pointed to a picture of a young Remus reading a book on the sofa in the living room. “He was in a book club when he was in primary school. I think he’s about nine here.”

You gave Remus a look that said, “you were so cute, I could literally eat you”.

The poor young man looked like he wanted to dig himself a hole and die there, but he couldn’t help the smile forming on his lips. His two favorite women getting along so well. That was exactly all he wanted.

You let him drag you away despite your protests. You bid Hope and Lyal goodnight in case you didn’t see them until the morning and then walked up the stars, following Remus with your hand in his.

“It looks exactly like you,” you said when you stepped into his old room. The walls were painted beige with posters of his favorite artists splattered arcoss. His bed was neatly made, probably because he hasn’t slept there for a year. There was a bookshelf filled with books and you were surprised to find toy dragons standing on all of the shelves. You turned to him, eyebrow raised in amusement.

“I used to be obsessed with dragons,” he admitted sheepeshly. “Couldn’t throw them away, even when I became an adult.”

You stepped closer and wrapped your arms around his neck, grinning from ear to ear.

Remus chuckled, eyes darting to your lips and back to your eyes. You took the hint and pushes his head forward, your mouths connecting. His hands moved from his sides to your hips and then lower back, pulling you closer, your bodies now flushed against the other.

The kiss turned heated rather quickly even though his parents were downstairs and could walk on you two any second. However, those thoughts disappeared when Remus’s lips brushed right under your jawline, making you whimper. You pulled at his hair as he began to suck, surely leaving a mark but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when it felt so good.

You didn���t even realize you were walking backwards until the back of your knees hit the edge of his bed. He lied you down carefully before taking a moment to admire you. Your hair was already slightly messy, your lipstick smudged and your eyes wide with anticipation. He got on top of you, connecting your lips once again.

As his hands travelled from your face to your sides and then under your blouse, reality hit you.

You were going to have your first time ever. With him. In his parents’s house.

You felt light panic wash over you and Remus, because he sensed it, immediately pulled away.

“Are you okay?” He asked breathlessly.

You managed to nod.

His eyes studied you. “We…don’t have to do this. It’s okay, if you don’t want to.”

You quickly shook your head. Not doing it was the last thing you wanted.

“I want to,” you answered, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just…I’ve never done….it.”

He looked almost suprised. “You’ve never had sex?”

Your face twisted, suddenly feeling embarrassed because of how he said the word sex so casually. It was casual for most people, you knew that. But not for you.

You were twenty. All your friends had already done it, and your cousin was even married and had a child. You felt certain pressure to do it since you turned sixteen but you never felt safe enough with anyone to go further than just snog. Not until now.

“No.” You exhaled. “I’ve never had sex. But I want to with you,” you quickly added.

“Alright,” Remus nodded, his eyes still on you, searching for any kind of hesitation or discomfort. When he didn’t find any, he said, “It will most likely hurt.”

“I know,” you replied. You’ve heard enough stories from your friends to know what first time feels like.

“You’ll tell me when you want to stop?”

“I will,” you reassured. And with that, you grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him in.

You left more than your red scarf at his parents’s house.

September 13th 1982 - A masterpiece

You had your suspicion for a while. Since you’ve first met him, actually, which was when you were dropping off Lily at the platform and 9 3/4. Your cousin introduced you two and you couldn’t help your eyes to curiously stare at his scars on his face, neck, and even hands. He must have known at what you were looking, and so you shook his hand and smiled brightly.

You wondered about what could have happened to him to leave him so scarred. Some looked even fresher than the others and so, the realization hit you as you remembered full moon was just a few days before that. And you’ve heard enough from Lily about werewolves to know what that meant.

However, your suspicions were confirmed after you got to know him more. You tracked the full moons in the calendar by your bed and watched as his behaviour changed just the week before his transformations. How he became quieter, face twisting in pain more often, his irritation growing because of the littlest things, how he made excuses of why not to spend time together. You couldn’t blame him at all. You didn’t know what he was going through but you could imagine how painful and scary it must be to turn into an animal and lose control over yourself for a whole night.

You walked on tiptoes around him if you happened to be together days before the full moon. You became quieter too, you didn’t talk about your day, of what happened when you were looking over little Harry, or that your favourite book was getting a film adaption. You talked only when neccessary and barely touched him at all.

You waited for him to tell you on your own but three months later, you lost hope that he was going to ever tell you at all.

Until one day, when you were in his bed in the flat he shared with Sirius. It was close to midnight after the whole afternoon spent watching him as he fought not to let his pain show. You so badly wanted to hold him, to tell him you knew and that you were there for him, willing to do anything to help him. But you didn’t and kept your hands to yourself.

He barely looked at you, his gaze glued to the space between you and him.

At one point, you let out a shaky breath, and that’s when he said it.

“You know, don’t you?”

It wasn’t a question. He knew you knew and there was no point in pretending you had no idea what he was talking about or to deny it.

You simply nodded, even though you didn’t know if he could even see it through the darkness.

“I do,” you whispered, feeling suddenly relieved.

“Why are you even here, then?”

That questioned caught you off guard. Cause I love you, you almost said before you stopped yourself, feeling like it was too early to say it out loud.

“Cause I want to be,” you answered simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And to you, it was.

“I’m not exactly an entertaining company during this time,” he laughed bitterly.

You shrugged. “I’m not here for entertainment. I’m here for you,” you paused, rethinking your words before saying, “I can go if you don’t want me here.”

Silence followed and you thought he was about to tell you to go home.

You felt his fingers brushing against yours. You thought it was an accident but then he intertwined them and you were sure it wasn’t.

“I always want you here.”

You squeezed his hand, sensing that there was nothing else needed to be said. You sat up a bit and placed a gentle kiss on Remus’s forehead, hearing a sigh escape his lips.

“Goodnight, Remus.”

“Will you stay?” He asked, voice shaky.

And of course, you did.

October 10th 1982 - First Crack in the Glass

The full moon the very next month was worse.

You called to his flat that day, just to ask Remus if he was okay, if he wanted anything from the store you were going to before visiting him.

“Hello, sweetheart.” Came from the other line and you recognized it to be Sirius. You didn’t know how he knew it was you but you decided not to ask anything.

“Hi, Sirius,” you greeted, feeling anxiety creeping into your bones for no particular reason.

“Listen, uh,” he paused and that’s when you knew something was wrong. Sirius sounded serious and he rarely did. “I don’t think Remus is in a good mood for any visitors. I’m myself just on the way out.”

You closed your eyes and sighed, gaze dropping into your lap. You knew what Sirius was saying. Remus didn’t want to see you.

“Oh,” was all you managed to say.

“Yeah,” Sirius agreed. “Oh.”

When you said nothing else, he continued. “Don’t take it personally, sweetheart, alright? I confirm that he still very much likes you. He’s just not himself.”

You nodded, even though you knew he couldn’t see it. “Okay. Thank you, Sirius. Have a nice day.”

“You too, Y/N.”

The line went off and another sigh left your lips. You thought about what Sirius said. He himself wanted to get out of the flat and you wondered how bad the atmosphere must have been. You knew you shouldn’t go. You told yourself you shouldn’t. There were millions of other things you could be doing instead of disrupting Remus. But, unfortunately, before you knew it, you were unlocking the door of his flat.

The evidence of the toll this full moon took on him were everywhere.

Unfinished breakfast, although it looked more like Remus didn’t even take a bite. There was a cup with coffee filled to the half and too many cigarettes in the ashtray. On the floor lied a broken plate. The whole place smelled like something bad was about to happen soon. You quietly took off your coat and shoes and put your bag down on the kitchen floor. You carefully moved over to the broken plate and began to pick up the pieces. Remus would’ve gone mad if he saw you picking it up with your bare fingers, scolding you that you were going to cut yourself.

And you did.

You hissed as you felt the sharp edge slit your skin of your palm. You glanced down at it to see a red line forming and you cursed quietly under your breath, abandoning the pieces and moved over to the sink to wash your hand. Sighing happily as the cold water hit your wound, you didn’t hear Remus making its way to the kitchen at the smell of your blood.

“What are you doing here?”

You almost jumped at the sound of his voice and turned around to see your boyfriend standing in the door way, with a bandage in his hand. He looked so incredibly tired and weak, with his shoulders down and a look in your eyes that looked far from the boy you knew.

“I…..” you couldnt finish your sentence as you watched him slowly making his way over to you. He grabbed the scissors from the kitchen table and cut the bandage. He handed out his hand, asking for yours without asking out loud. You obeyed, silently watching as he began bandaging.

“You should’ve been more careful,” he scolded without looking at you. “You should’ve just left the plate where it was. You shouldn’t be cleaning up my mess.”

You had a feeling this wasn’t about just cleaning up his flat anymore.

“I just wanted to help,” you tried to reason and his hands sped up, but you could see he was struggling. “Remus, I love you—“

He dropped your hand. “Then don’t!” He lashed out, his voice far harsher than he intended, but you heard it break.

You froze.

“Seriously, Y/N. I have never asked you for anything. Not for cleaning my flat just because you think I can’t do it myself–“

“I don’t think that,” you cut in desperately.

He ignored your words. “And I have certainly never asked you for sticking around nor have I ever asked for your love!”

You glanced down on your feet and gripped your injured hand. Not because it hurt – you were sure your heart was in a whole lot worse condition – but because you needed something to hold onto.

Was Remus breaking up with you? Was that what it was about?

“I’m sorry,” you managed to mumble. “I- I’ll go.”

You walked past him, unable to look him in the eye and he seemed to be struggling too. You grabbed your things, got dressed and walked out without another word, trying to ignore how your heart ached.

You ended up at James and Lily’s house with the excuse that you just wanted to see Harry. Which was not completely false, you loved him to death and always wanted to see him.

However, as you stepped into the living room, your eyes landed on Sirius who was sitting on the floor and playing with your – and his – godson.

His eyes lit up when he saw you, and Harry was too busy playing with cars to notice you. However, he frowned in confussion as if he sensed something was wrong.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he said unsurely, eyes flicking to Lily and James who just shrugged. Suddenly, his eyes widened a bit before asking, “You’ve been to see Remus, haven’t you?”

There were a few “ah”’s coming from your cousin and her husband and you sighed in defeat.

“You and your dog senses,” you said before sitting down on the floor next to Harry who was already making grabby hands at you. You chuckled and pulled him into your lap, giving him a kiss on the top of his head and that’s when they all saw it. The bandage on your hand.

“Oh God,” Lily gasped, her hand over her mouth. “Did he….?”

Your eyes went wide at what she was implying. “No!” You shook your head quickly. “That was all me, he was the one bandaging it.”

James raised an eyebrow. He’s been uncharacteristically quiet the whole time. “So… what happened?”

You remained quiet. Harry was giving you a grin, looking up at you with curious eyes.

“Went to his flat. There was, uh, a broken plate on the floor. I wanted to clean it up and cut myself. Remus appeared like thirty seconds later with a bandage. Then he started about how I should’ve been more careful and that he never asked me for any of this and that he certainly never asked me for my love.”

“Jesus Christ….” Lily mumbled.

And that’s when it hit you. The reality of his words.

“I think he was breaking up with me,” you admitted. Your voice broke on the last word and tears began streaming down your face. Before you knew it, Sirius took Harry out of your hold to give you some space, which was the last thing you wanted but you didn’t protest. Lily crouched down next to you and began caressing your back.

“I’m sure he wasn’t,” James said, giving you a sad smile. “Moony wouldn’t do that.”

Sirius tsked and you turned your head to face him.

“Moony would do that,” he corrected. You opened your mouth to argue, but then you realized you didn’t know him long like Sirius did. That made your heart ache even more.

“Sirius!” Lily scolded.

The said boy put his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, Lils, but there’s no point at lying to the poor girl. Remus is the type of person to push everyone away, especially the closest people. He can be so casually cruel in the name of being honest.”

You felt a lump in your throat and no matter how much you tried swallowed it, it never went away.

You eventually nodded, slowly, accepting your fate.

“He broke up with me.”

Lily sighed from her spot beside you. “You can’t know that for hundred precent.”

“Yeah,” James agreed. “Remus always says things he doesn’t mean when it’s close to the full moon. I say call him or meet up with him after.”

You shook your head. “I’m not going to call first—“

Then, the phone rang, cutting you off. James went over to answer it. You couldn’t hear the voice on the other line to figure out who it was, only James’s quiet responses.

“Yeah, uh, she’s here,” he said. “I’m not sure she wants to talk to you, mate–“

You were already in your feet, making your way to the phone. “Is that Remus?”

James nodded unsurely. He wanted to say you didn’t have to talk to him if you didn’t want to, but you were already reaching for the phone before he could say anything.

You heard him breathing, and then holding it just before you spoke.

“Rem?” You asked softly.

“Y/N,” he breathed out as if hearing your voice was the best thing ever. And for him, it was. “I’m sorry. Godric, I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you mumbled, leaning against the wall.

“No, it’s not,” Remus argued, his voice gentle yet firm. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

“It’s alright, Rem, really,” you said honestly. You could see Lily, James, Sirius, and even Harry watching you. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through. Sirius told me not to come and I should’ve listened. It’s my fault.”

“No.” You imagined him shaking his head. “You were just being your kind self. You wanted to help. And I was awful to you. You should yell at me.”

You let out a chuckle. “I’m not going to yell at you, love.”

“I know,” he said and paused. The silence was somewhat comfortable cause you now knew he wasn’t breaking up with you. “I love you.”

And there, he said it. And you swore you could hear your heart quite literally leaping out of your chest. You hid your face in your free hand to cover your smile as you felt your cheeks heat up.

“I love you.”

You heard Remus let out a sigh of relief. You were still together, now stronger than ever.

Everything was going to be okay.

Or….so you thought.

October 20th 1982 - Wind in My Hair, I Was There

The leaves finally turned autumn colours.

You dragged Remus out of his flat despite his protests about wanting to curl up on the sofa with a good book. You promised him you’ll do it with him later that day and eventually, with a sigh, he agreed.

And so there you were, walking hand in hand through the colourful forest towards a lake. It had been fun so far, even for Remus. He let you talk his ear off about anything that came into your mind. It would be annoying for many, but not for your boyfriend. He loved your voice and how excited you got about things you liked. Sometimes you were so lost in what you were saying he had to lead you so you wouldn’t step into a puddle.

“And Sara got this beautiful cat and—“ you abruptly stopped yourself.

Remus raised his eyebrow, confusion written all of his face. “And what, dove?”

You scrunched up your nose and looked down at the ground. “I’m talking too much, aren’t I?”

He brought your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles. “Nonsense.”

You slowed your walking when you felt him to do so and smiled up at him. When you two stopped in your tracks entirely, he framed your face with his scarred hands and placed a gentle kiss on your mouth. He didn’t pull away entirely, you could feel his breath on your face.

You wrapped your arms around his waist and stood up on your tiptoes to kiss him once again. He hummed happily into your mouth, his thumb brushing over your jawline.

“You’re too nice to me,” you said when you continued your way to the lake. “If you want me to shut up, you have to tell me.”

He pouted teasingly. “But I want to hear our voice.”

And, God, you folded.

Despite the cold weather, the sun found its way to cast its light through the tree branches onto the water, creating a sparkling effect. The wind was messing up your hair the whole time, but you gave up on trying to fix it.

You and Remus sat into the grass next to the lake. There were only a few people, mostly passing by without really interrupting you two. You kissed some more, until your lips turned blue, clinging onto the heat radiating from him. He was so warm.

“Swear to remember this all too well,” you pleaded, with your head on his shoulder.

You felt him kiss the top of your head.

“I promise.”

October 27th 1982 - Breaking Point

You let yourself in Remus’s flat. You were so excited to show him the halloween costume you got for James and Lily’s party. It was a witch, ironically. But a bit more…revealing, you’d say.

You definitely hoped the afternoon would end up a different way than it did.

You hanged your coat by the door and kicked off your shoes. You felt as if you knew something was going to happen but told your anxious brain it was paranoid. It worked, for a while.

Sirius was in the kitchen, cigarette hanging from his lips as he read the newspapers, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath. He looked up at the sound of your footsteps and grinned.

“Hello, doll,” he greeted you. You learned not to take the nicknames anything more than casually. It was simply in Sirius’s nature.

“Hi, Sirius,” you greeted back and looked around the kitchen and the living room. “Is Remus here?”

“Bedroom,” Sirius responded and before he could say anything else, you were on your way over there.

You knocked on the door softly, exactly three times and waited patienly for Remus to answer. After hearing the faint sound of “come in”, you excitedly entered.

Except, your excitement wore off when you saw Remus sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.

You dropped your bags and immediately approached. You sat down in front of him, your hand brushing over his shoulder.

You spoke in panicked voice. “What happened, love? Are you hurting?”

He shook his head, his voice still covered. Then, he finally looked at you. There was this kind of sadness in his eyes. He hadn’t been crying, at least not in the past thirty minutes, you could tell that. But that didn’t make you feel any more better.

“What happened?” You repeated, more urgently this time.

He opened his mouth but no words came out. You furrowed your eyebrows worryingly.

And then–

“I don’t think this will work out.”

Seven words.

Enough to make your whole world fall apart.

Your eyes widened in cofussion, hand drawing from his shoulder back to your side.

“What?”

He sighed, as if it pained him to say it again.

“I don’t think this will work out, Y/N.”

It made your heart ache in ways you never experienced before. You were completely frozen by his words. You thought you two talked everything out. He literally just met your parents a week ago! Charming your dad with self-effacing jokes, sipping his coffee like he was on a late night show. He gave your mother flowers and complimented her cooking. He made love to you later that night in the exact bed you were just sitting next to and now he was breaking up with you?

“Why?” You managed to croak out. When he didn’t answer, you asked again. “Why, Remus?” This one came out harsher than intended and he winced.

“You have to think of your future.” Was his answer. The thing, he said you were his future and you believed him.

Stupid girl.

You stood up and threw hands in the air. “I do think about my future, and you are in it!”

Remus sighed again, as if he didn’t want to continue this conversation.

“You have to think a bit more beyond that,” he couldn’t even look at you, keeping his gaze on the linoleum floor. “I’ve got a badly-paid job because of what I am. I can’t give you the life you want.”

A sob left your lips before you could stop it. “I don’t care about my life as long as you’re in it,” you said weekly. Remus hated that he made you like this, but he was convinced that you were better off without him.

“You’re saying that now.” His eyes finally met yours. “But what about when we’re going to be in debts because of all the bills we couldn’t pay?”

You knew he had a point, but you wouldn’t let him know that. “Then we’re going to be in it together!”

“Love can’t safe us from that, dove.”

Your shoulders dropped in defeat, silently begging him to change his mind. Unfortunately, you knew that there was nothing else you could do to prevent him from leaving.

“So, that’s it?”

He nodded, slowly. His eyes drifted back to the floor. “Yes. That’s it.”

You let out another sob. You were torn between wanting to hug him, hold onto him for dear life and never wanting to see him again. You chose for the second option and turned around, grabbed your bags, and left his bedroom.

Sirius was still in the kitchen, smoking probably another cigarette. You wanted to sneak past him without him noticing you but that was impossible.

“Y/N?” He asked at the sight of your teary face. You shook your head, signalizing ou couldn’t and didn’t want to talk to him about it. He only nodded and kissed your cheek, squeezing your arm. You thanked him in a whisper and then left the apartment.

You broke down outside the building.

November 4th 1982 - You Call Me Up Again

One week.

Seven days.

168 hours.

10 080 minutes.

604 800 seconds.

Some really painful seconds without him.

You never knew how devestating it can be to get your heart broken. You’ve seen movies and read books about it, sure. But experiencing was something completely different.

You felt this presistent ache in your chest from the moment you woke up to the very second you drifted to your dreamland. And even then, the pain wouldn’t give you rest.

You dreamed of him.

The dreams didn’t really make sense most of the time, but he was there. Always.

Waiting. Watching. Smiling.

And when you opened your eyes, the reality hit you like a train.

You haven’t spoken to him in seven whole days. You have been barely speaking to anyone at all.

Lily called about twenty of times, just to ask you how you are. She even put Harry on the phone, but the boy could only speak gibberish and you pretended like you could understand him. It cheered you up, though. Harry always did.

Sirius called every other day and stopped by when you told him to so you could give him his birthday present. He didn’t make you feel guilty for missing his party. Not after seeing how heartbroken you looked that day.

Everyone called. Everyone stopped by. Just not Remus.

You spend your days in bed, crying until your eyes hurt and you felt sick. You’d look at the pictures of you and him or the pictures of him that you took while the songs he loved played in the backround.

No wonder you were miserable.

And you yearned for Remus in ways that made you feel crazy.

You knew you’d forgive him in a heart beat if he reached out and you hated yourself for that a tiny bit. But, at the same time, it’s not like he did something unforgivable. You thought about it hard enough to understand why he did what he did and you even wondered about what would you do if the roles were reversed. You came to the conclusion that you would do the exact same thing.

But the thing was, you couldn’t forgive him until he asked for forgivness.

And he didn’t. For seven days.

And then, the call came. Completely out of the blue.

You were curled up in your bed, staring into nowhere when the phone rang in the living room. Faintly, but you could hear it anyway.

You were about ninety-nine percent sure it was going to be Lily. The other one percent went for Sirius.

You sighed, getting into the act of being totally fine before picking it up.

“Hello?” You said, anticipating your cousin’s voice on the other line.

You never expected it to be him.

But then you heard it, the shaky breath and your name.

You closed your eyes and leaned against the wall. “Remus.”

Silence prevailed. You couldn’t even hear his breath, suspecting he was holding it.

You held the phone as if it was him, gently but firmly at the same time.

“I miss you,” he eventually croaked out. “I miss you really badly.”

And, God, how badly you wanted to hear him saying that. You imagined it multiple times, but this was better than your brain could ever form.

“I miss you really badly, too,” you admitted quietly. You started wondering what it meant. Did he just call you to say he missed you just to leave you stranded and confused? Did he think it was a romantic thing to do?

“Mum found out about what I did to you,” Remus said after a while. “From Sirius, of course. She gave me hell for it. I was convinced to call you and talk.”

You mentally thanked Hope Lupin for being the most amazing woman in the whole world.

“Well, did you want to talk to me, at all?” You asked, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Course,” he said honestly. “I always want to talk to you, even if I pretend I don’t.”

You let out a quiet chuckle and smiled for the first time in days. You heard Remus let out a sigh of relief at the sound.

“Would you….” He paused. “Would you like to meet up? Maybe at the café you wanted to go to?”

“Yes,” you spoke faster than you meant to. “I’d like that.”

November 10th 1982 - Down the Stairs, I Was There

A week later, you couldn’t be happier.

You and Remus were back together and everyone was delighted to hear the news. You started socializing again and didn’t cry when you heard David Bowie anymore.

Just like now.

You were back at his parents’ house. Lyall and Hope were out of town and asked Remus to take care of it while they were gone. You ended up hanging out with him there, without anyone interrupting you two.

There, downstairs in the kitchen, you and Remus decided for brownies at midnight. Your boyfriend was the one making the batter while you were seated on the kitchen counter and tasting it, despite the multiple times Remus playfully smacked your hand away before kissing you on the cheek. Each single time.

You watched him, not really his work, rather how beautifully he looked in the refrigerator light. Hair all messy from previous activity – you know what I mean, smile plastered on his face the entire time, eyes glistening.

You didn’t want to look at anything else ever again.

His records were playing softly in the backround. You recognized all of the songs. He played Bowie often enough for you to memorize them word by word. Your favourite was definitely Heroes and so when it started playing, you jumped off the counter and dramatically asked Remus to dance.

And who was he to say no to that?

He gladly took your hand and you lead him in the middle of the kitchen to move the dining table and chairs so you had enough space to dance.

Like you two stood a chance.

He placed one of his hands on your waist and you put one of yours on his shoulder. The dance was messy and uncoordinated but none of you cared enough. You were both laughing the whole time, even when Remus accidentally stepped on your feet.

By the end if the song, you had your head leaning against his chest, moving slowly. At one point, you looked at him, smiled and he just couldn’t not lean down and kiss you softly on the lips.

He murmured “I love you” when your finger threaded into his sand brown locks.

There, down the stairs, your sillhouettes luminated by the light from the refrigerator, in your lover’s arms, you felt like exploding.

November 16th 1982 - Just To Break Me Like A Promise

Unfortunately, Remus likes breaking his favourite toys.

What was more unfortunate, was that you were one of them.

It came just as unexpectedly as the first break up. This time, he couldn’t even meet you in person to tell you

You told him he was a coward, he said he knew. You didn’t know what to say after that. You remembered the last time, how you tried to convince him and nothing worked. He broke you like a promise he never really made.

You stayed on the phone with him in silence for a few minutes. The tick of the clock in your kitchen suddenly felt too loud, as if mocking you.

Your time ran out.

Then suddenly, you picked all your courage to ask him. “Will you come to my birthday party?”

That caught him completely off guard.

“What?” He asked, the shock evident in his voice.

“I want you there,” you admitted. Silence followed. “Please, tell me you’ll come.” Silence. “Remus–“

“I’ll be there,” he responded finally. “I promise.”

You didn’t know if he said it just to satisfy you or if he actually wanted to be there but you couldn’t bring yourself to ask, afraid of the answer.

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

The line went dead.

November 23th 1982 - The Moment I Knew

That day of the party, you wore your favourite dark purple party dress and his favourite red lipstick of yours.

Your friends came flooding in.

Lily, James, and Harry came first, carrying one present each. Sirius arrived a few minutes after that, complaining about the traffic before giving the top of your head a kiss and placing his present for you among the others.

Your childhood friends Sara and Lisa bursted through the door with bright smiles on their faces. They embraced you so tightly you could barely breathe.

You patiently waited. For Remus to arrive with Peter.

And then the door opened.

And only one of them made it.

Your smile faltered when you saw only Peter walking through the doorway. At the sight of you, he quickly explained;

“He said he’ll come later. Got caught up at work.”

You trusted Peter he was telling the truth. You didn’t trust Remus that he told his friend the truth.

But you still got hope as you joined all your friends.

However, twenty minutes passed. Then forty-five. Then a whole hour. And you felt the reality sinking in.

You got your eye on the door the entire time, only halfly listening to James and Sirius sharing funny stories from school. You could tell that they were trying really hard to not mention Remus and you were somewhat grateful for that.

The more time passed, the more sadder you’ve become and it became harder to pretend you were alright.

Everyone noticed. Of course, they did. You hardly said anything at all the entire evening, only speaking when spoken to.

And when Lisa asked if you were okay, you couldn’t hold the tears back anymore.

You quickly excused yourself and made your way into the bathroom. You could hear steps behind you and didn’t need to look back to know it was Sirius. Hence why you didn’t close the door to the bathroom, torn between wanting to be alone and speaking about it to someone.

Your back was facing the door when he entered, your face in your hands as you quietly sobbed, the noises muffled by your palms.

“Y/N,” Sirius sighed and wrapped his arms around your shaking figure. You were sure you’d be on the floor if he didn’t come in.

You burried your face in his shoulder, gripping his white shirt.

“He said he’d be here,” you cried out, followed by another broken sob.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Sirius mumbled into your hair. He hold you tightly, as if afraid you were going to fall apart otherwise. And you would.

You stayed like that for about ten minutes, until you calmed down. Your eyes were red, mascara completely ruined and your lipstick was smudged on Sirius’s tshirt. He waved you off when you apalogized and fixed it with a flick of his wand. He then fixed your appearance, too. Minus the red eyes, he wasn’t sure what to do about that.

You hesitated joining your friends again in the living room but you felt guilty about your dissapearence. You stared at the floor for a second, your lip in between your teeth.

“Come on,” Sirius nudged you playfully, making you look up. He was grinning but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s supposed to be fun turning twenty one.”

Two hours later, you were in your flat alone once again. The presents remained wrapped as you weren’t in the mood to open them. You poured yourself a glass of wine and sank into the sofa. Your appearance a devastating contrast to the decorated flat.

You played back your last phone call with Remus. How he promised he’d come.

He should’ve been there.

You were too tired to cry anymore, and you weren’t sure if you had any tears left. You lied down, still with your dress and your heels that you picked out just for him.

His voice played in your ears.

“I’ll be there. I promise.”

Foolish one.

You were awaken by the phone ringing.

Your eyes shot open into the dark and your chest tightened.

It must be him, you thought. It must be.

You slowly got up, praying that he wouldn’t give up and hang up because you were sure you couldn’t call him yourself. Finally your hand reached for the phone and held it close to your ear.

“Y/N?” He questioned, as if he wasn’t sure you’d even pick up. You didn’t know what time it was, but considering the dark outside, it must have been at least eleven.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “It’s me.”

You waited for him to say something.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it,” he apologized. It sounded sincere but that wasn’t enough to mend your broken heart.

You wanted to yell at him. You wanted to ask him to put your name on the top of his list. How throughout the whole relationship, you asked for one thing and one thing only. To be with you when you wanted him. You wanted him to answer of why he was doing this to you. Why he was keep breaking your heart in a blink of an eye.

But you didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. Not because you didn’t care but because deep down you knew there was nothing to fight for anymore.

Instead, you sighed and said, “I’m sorry, too.”

Then, you hung up.

And that was the moment you knew.

December 14th 1982 - How It Glistened As It Fell

You stared into your coffee.

The café you were in wasn’t busy in the late afternoon, only clinking of dishes and the low sound of people talking could be heard.

You thought it was hilarious. Remus asked to meet you here to talk and yet, he didn’t say a single word except of “hi” and “I’m glad you came”.

It was awkward. The silence. The way you sometimes accidentally bumped your leg against his. The way you caught his stare when he was looking at your face.

You sighed. “What did you want to talk about?”

He glanced down on the table and took a deep breath. “Nothing. I just wanted to see you.”

Oh, God.

You tilted your head and studied his face. “Why did you want to see me, then?”

Silence. And then–

“I miss you.”

You looked out the window and saw a couple walking by, hand in hand, the girl laughing at something the boy said.

“You broke up with me, Remus,” you whispered. “You don’t get to say that.”

He nodded slowly, knowing where you’re coming from. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

You didn’t say it was okay, because it wasn’t. “I just wish you wouldn’t let it get between us like that.” It being lycantrophy. “I’d love you so hard if you just let me. We could make it work. But you gave it up. You gave us up.”

Remus swallowed the lump in his throat. “Maybe if…I wasn’t what I was then… It would’ve been fine.”

And that made you want to die.

You stayed silent, not trusting your voice to break if you spoke. You could feel tears stinging your eyes and you used your sleeve to wipe them.

But the grief was too much.

You looked out of the window again and let the tears fall this time. Seeing the first fall of snow should make you happy. But it didn’t. Nothing mattered.

You looked back at him, only to see his gaze already on you. You needed to say it. “I love you.”

Remus closed his eyes as if the sentence physically pained him to hear it. And with a shaky breath, he said;

“It’ll pass.”

You looked down on your shaky hands as if it could comfort you.

Fifteen minutes later, you said your goodbyes. You didn’t hug each other, afraid that if you did, you wouldn’t be able to let go.

And Remus knew it was for the better.

It was all for you.

You watched him walking away from you, hands in his pockets and head down low.

He didn’t look back, not once.

You looked up and let the first snowflakes fall on your face, admiring how it glistened as it fell.

Time passed. Like it always did.

But you still remembered every little detail of his breathing. Every detail of the colour of his eyes. The sound of his laugh. The was his fingers felt on your face when he kissed you.

You were going to remember how it felt to love him.

You were going to remember it all.

Too well.

[yrevras]

Go for it, SuperHan!

Han Jisung is an avid comic enthusiast, and he may or may not be crushing on his local comic shop's morning shift employee.

Han Jisung is also anonymously arguing with someone on Reddit. That someone also happens to be you.

Or

Yours and Jisung's story, told through the lens of Superman, his symbol of hope.

word count: 11.1K

a/n: wanted to write a small drabble mixing two of my favorite things, ended up with the longest piece I've written to date. I think it's cute though.

Jisung doesn’t know why he keeps logging on to reddit. 

r/DCcomics is meant to be a forum for comic fans to appreciate and discuss the artful storytelling and lore of the works they read. Yes, there’s the common troll, but they’re usually buried deep down by the hyperspecific inquiries and theories from dedicated fans.

Maybe the trolls have gotten better though.

He doesn’t really comment or post on the forum, instead just upvoting or downvoting to influence his feed and leaving it at that. Reading comics and consuming the online content was fun, but the only friend that shared his interest was Seungmin. He was into marvel and didn’t talk about it much anyways.

 He swivels boredly in his gaming chair. Besides, watching people argue online was amazing free entertainment.

Until it goes too far.

“Why Jason Todd is the best Robin (and nobody can convince me otherwise)” 

Was the title of the stomach-ache-inducing 2 page long post he’d stumbled across.

Maybe it was because of the late hour, or the fact that he was doing anything to put off real life responsibilities, but for the first time ever, he clicked “comment”.

“What is wrong with you? Have you ever picked up a comic in your life? Jason failed at being Robin the second he put on the mask…”  He types. Minho says if he put as much effort into his english essays as he does talking about fictional characters, maybe he’d be passing. English class doesn’t have superpowered metahumans though, so he’ll pass.

He’s already posted his one-page rant before he pauses and blinks. He just got genuinely upset over a take about a comic book character that he read on reddit. He’s no better than Chan. Maybe it’s time to close the laptop shut for the night.

-

You’re not sure why your friends are so excited to get you out of the house. Maybe it’s because you’re usually the self-appointed designated driver and they never get to see your “wild side”. 

The few times they do drag you out for a night on the town, they’re reminded why.

They could’ve sworn they’d only given you two shots, but apparently it’s enough to make you run off. Their hopes of you having found someone to go home with for the night (finally) was crushed when they’d searched the bathroom.

You were huddled in the corner on the dirty tile floor, furiously typing something on your phone with one hand and nursing a bloody mary in the other. 

Right. Instead of going party girl crazy when you were intoxicated, you redownload reddit and info-dump on the sub you claim to hate.

As much of a challenge as it was to tear you away from the phone, you were passed out immediately. 

In your drunken haze, you’d forgotten to delete the app again.

-

Your head is pounding. You lift your head and examine your surroundings. Mascara smudged onto the pillow case below you, small beams of light peeking through the window, and your alarm clock ringing nonstop at what feels like 600 decibels.

Groaning, you reach over and shut it off before your neighbor can start banging on the shared paper-thin wall with the top of her broom again. You don’t really know why she does that. She’s only putting dents in her own wall, but you guess it worked. You never let that alarm ring for longer than 30 seconds.

The impending morning shift you're scheduled to work is what wills you to wake up. You really believe that working mornings at the comic shop is like a blessing personally sent down from god. 

Nobody ever visited a comic store before midday, so you didn’t have to interact with anyone other than the rare coworker for 6 hours. You could just pop in an ear bud and catalogue all morning. It wasn’t too far from what you’d be doing at home, so it didn’t really feel like work at all. It also fits into your schedule. Morning shifts, evening classes. Perfect.

Working around so many comics and characters has influenced you to read a bit. A bit transformed into a lot and now you were an incognito lexicon of DC knowledge from your hours of empty shop time spent reading. 

You like to think you were pretty lowkey about it. Mostly.

You wait until you board the bus to check your notifications. You don’t fully trust yourself to stay on schedule in the morning with a phone in hand. 

The bus stop is a small bench with an overhead cover. You know a few of the regulars whose schedules overlap with yours, but they’re not very chatty. The only exception was Martha, the elderly woman across from the stop who got her nephew to install a small heater above the bench for the winter. You know this because 1. You use the heater often, and 2. She’s always trying to set you up with said nephew. 

Luckily, nobody’s here today, so the music stays on. 

The driver nods at you as you enter, claiming your usual window seat near the middle and leaning your head against the glass. It’s nice and warm from the sun. It’s a nice spot. Nobody really sits in the middle unless they have to, so you get your space.

You finally pull your phone out of your pocket. There’s 12 notifications from…reddit..?

Weird, you thought you’d deleted that app months ago. Some of the people there were just too negative for your taste. You were trying to keep your inner peace (you know, aligning your chakras and all). You click it. 

“What is wrong with you?...” 

There’s a two page rebuttal to the drunken lovepiece you wrote about Jason Todd. Defending DIck Grayson.

The worst part? It’s extremely well written. MLA formatted, CER based. They’ve even pulled out online statistics and cited comic issues from the 80’s. (So what if Jason got voted the least favorite robin in the 60’s? Times change…)

By the time you’ve finished reading it (and clicking through all the links they attached), you’re already at your stop.

-

The shop is simple and it’s not hard to find. Bright colored posters are hung up outside with a big sign that says ‘COMICS’ (pretty lowkey…). The inside is lined with shelves and boxes sorted alphabetically by company, character, etc. The organization is incredibly neat, and not to toot your own horn or anything, but it's mostly thanks to you. 

You’ve spent a bit of your own cash on the store. Just small things like a new softer rug, strawberry candle or refilling the candy bowl, but it makes the place feel homely and warm (and really nice smelling). Your boss hasn’t said anything bad about it yet, so you suspect he kind of enjoys it.

Green Lantern stares you down from his plastic stand on the register. You slowly sign in, counting up the amount of purchases made the day before, but your mind keeps wandering back to the thread you read earlier. 

Yes, you hate arguing with strangers online. It’s a waste of time and you would never give a random person the satisfaction of seeing you upset over something you could’ve just deleted and forgotten about. However, maybe you’ll entertain this. They did give a well thought out response, and it’s not like they’re just saying whatever they can to provoke you, so maybe you’ll justify this with a response. Only because you’re quite bored (and definitely not because you don’t have anyone else in your life to talk comics about, even if it’s an argument).

13 sales yesterday. That’s…really good actually. Comics aren’t really a high demand item and they’re pretty cheap, so there’s not an incredibly steady flow of sales everyday. Most of the income the shop receives is from actually preserving the comics that people bring in.

Opening shift duty #2, restocking the shelves. You've only been here for a few months, but being one of the only people with the job, it’s become second nature to you. There’s only a few new issues, but they’re rarer. Rare comics need to be packaged up behind the register. You pause your music as you examine them, squinting. 

‘Robin; vol 2, The Triumphant’. 

A collectors edition. You hadn’t read it, but doors technically didn’t open for 12 minutes. Maybe…? 

You cling wrap like you never had before. Wrap, label, to the top of the shelf, repeat. Your morning regular comes in around 8:30 whenever he decides to drop by, so you always mentally prepare each shift (even if he never shows).

You tell yourself it’s because he’s the only recurring morning regular (even if that’s not true) and you like to keep your customers happy. That’s why he’s your favorite. No other reason. Definitely not because of his awkward stuttery charm, round glasses, messy black hair and insane comic book knowledge. He’s just a regular.

By the time the clock hits 8, all of your duties have been completed, leaving you just enough time to settle down behind the counter with the collectors item. Green Lantern looks at you disappointed. He can suck it. It’s not illegal to check over an item before you put it up for sale.

-

In, 2, 3, 4,

out, 2, 3, 4

Breathing exercises never work to calm his nerves, but he tries everyday anyways. As if the caffeine running through his veins wasn’t bad enough, he was going to brave the storm again today.

Jisungs heated reddit rant from last night (which he is so embarrassed about that it will be taken to the grave) had subconsciously given him the courage to visit the comic shop again.

If he could write a 2 page analysis on Dick Grayson's legacy in one night, he could will himself to spark up a conversation with the pretty girl behind the register. During his evening visits, he can back and forth about Superman's abilities with Chul, the comic enthusiast decades older than him. There’s just something about you that gets him nervous. 

You’ve even thrown him a rope, asking about the issues he purchases or who his favorite character was, but every time he just kind of…stares. The second you look at him with those sparkling eyes and kind smile, he turns into some regular Joe that’s never touched a piece of media in his life. Like Changbin (don’t tell him he said that). 

But not today.

 If it comes to it, he will recite his essay line by line. He will never score a date with you unless he can wow you, and the awkward stuttering and stiff nods weren’t gonna cut it. 

The recognizable ding of the bell is missing today when he opens the door. Jisung lets the glass close slowly, sweater sleeve falling over his fingers as he lets go, scanning the room. It smells nice as always. He likes to think that it’s just because it’s your shift. The strawberry aroma doesn’t follow into the afternoon, instead leaning towards old books more. It’s not a bad scent, but it’s not yours.

Nobody’s at the counter. He hopes you’re on shift today and just working in the back or on your break. This amount of courage wouldn’t find him again for months. He had to do it today. Preferably before his 9:15am class…

If you’re busy…he guesses it wouldn’t hurt to look around. He hasn’t come by in a little over a week and there's new content shipped in daily. His favorite thing about comics and this store especially, is (you) the fact that they’re so cheap. Felix always complains about how expensive physical manga is and he gloats inside every time. An average 2-4$ comic is a steal for a struggling college student.

He scans the aisles like he has so many times before. He’d like to avoid anything with Robin featured in it. For his sanity. 

The display behind the counter catches his eye. They look a bit nicer and thicker than most of the floor level ones, but it wouldn’t hurt him to take a look right? Maybe a bit of window shopping could keep a flow of gas on his little flame of courage before he loses it to time.

They’re wrapped and labelled very neatly (you're doing. Not that he watches you or anything, but you mentioned it in passing one time and even though he just awkwardly smiled, he always remembered). 

His sweater pawed hands support his weight on the counter as he leans forward, trying to get a closer look. The wood creaks a bit, and he hears a quiet gasp. Your head pops up from under the counter quicker than the speed of light, throwing him into a panic. The startled scream he let out will haunt his dreams forever. His fingers raise to brush under his jawline, checking his pulse and he collects himself. You’re staring wide-eyed at him with your hands behind your back and a sheepish smile. 

Confidence gone.

“Hi! How can I help you today?” Your tone is friendly, but your motions are awkward. You sidestep over to the register, body angled towards him the whole time, and lean down until your hands are level with the counter, dropping a comic down with a quiet ‘thud’.

He catches a glimpse of it. He can’t read the full title, but he can make out the word ‘ROBIN’ and the Boy Wonder with his adoptive father on the front page. He makes his move.

“You um, do you like…Robin?”

So he could've strung the sentence together without so many pauses, but this was an improvement from anything he’d done before, so he gives himself some grace. 

What happened to avoiding Robin today?

You freeze, looking caught between being surprised (probably at the fact that he can actually speak. This is so humiliating) and embarrassed. You nod over-enthusiastically at him.

“I love them! You?”

He nods, then realizes he needs to make conversation. You don’t want to speak to a wall. 

“Mhm. I like Dick.”

You smile amusedly. Shit.

“Uh Grayson. Dick Grasyon. The first one… the um… acrobat. Nightwing.”

Great to know that even if he can’t make conversation with you, at least he knows all of Dick Grayson's titles. Woop-de-fucking-doo.

A giggle breaks him out of his deprecating train of thoughts. You pick up the comic you were ‘secretly’ reading and offer it to him, cover facing him.

“I’ve heard a thing or two about him I think. I still think Jason Todd’s the coolest though.”

He takes the comic, looking down. Dick Grayson is on the cover, cheesy smile and all. He’s not the biggest Jason Todd enthusiast (as he’s shown anonymously online), but he knows enough about the guy to pretend. He’s read a whole think piece about it on reddit afterall.

“Jason does have a pretty cool backstory.” He nods, still flicking through the page. He kind of pulled that from the post, but technically it had used the term ‘emotionally rich and tragic’. 

It seemed like the right thing to say though, because your eyes lit up. 

“Exactly! His character is so well written and his development? Especially with the Lazarus pit?”

You lean forward, palms planted on the desk. Jisung feels like he hit the jackpot.

“His relationship with the Al Ghuls is cool too. We don’t see much of that with the others. Not even Batman.” He didn’t actually pull this one from the post, but he didn’t agree with it completely. He didn’t like the Al Ghuls, but he liked you. That was enough.

You nod even harder.

“Dick and Jason are a cool duo too! He’s a good older brother figure and it gets overlooked by a lot of people I think.”

He thinks he just fell in love again. Even after his awkward introduction, you still tried to bring up his favorites. He could drop to one knee right now.

The conversation continues, and he leans on the counter to match your stance. It almost feels like a long talk with an old friend. Comic knowledge is something he’s experienced and confident in, and he forgot how exciting it was to talk about them with someone his own age. (Not that Chul wasn’t great company, but you were different. Butterflies didn’t erupt in his stomach when Chul laughed at his jokes).

Nobody came in the whole time, which slightly surprised him. It was also slightly exciting to him though. If you didn’t usually have customers during your shifts, maybe he could drop by and chat more often? He’d have to do some homework on Jason Todd, but he’s sure he could review that reddit post. Maybe provoke them a bit so they share more good info. 

It’s not long until his phone ringing snaps you out of the conversation. The screen lights up with Felix’s face on the front, accompanied by a ‘where r u?????’ text. It’s 9:30.

It’s 9:30.

-

Your compsci professor is droning on about some type of quiz happening on some day. You’re not really paying too much attention. 

An empty google document is pulled up on the screen of the open laptop in front of you. It was meant to be used for notes, but you haven’t really heard anything noteworthy yet. Not that you’d really been listening.

The conversation with your regular, Jisung, as he’d said out the door, was stuck on replay in the little tv screen that was your mind. He was even cuter than you’d imagined with his oversized knitted sweater and bulky backpack that he wore on both shoulders, hands holding the straps.

Talking to him was unlike conversing with anyone else you’d ever met. Maybe you’d just been subtly crushing on him for a few months, or maybe you just didn’t have a friend who wanted to listen to you drone on about a superhero and his universe for a whole hour. Jisung was different. He listened when you spoke and he rambled about things you hadn’t even thought of. All of his takes are so insightful and well thought out. His awkwardness only adds to his charm.

You’d spoken for one day and he was already killing you. You really needed to get out more.

When he’d brought up the robins and Jason, it had weirdly given  you a boost of confidence. You were glad that, of all the different characters there were, was who he picked. You eat, sleep and breathe the Robins.

So much that you got into online arguments with strangers about it.

Your fingers are moving with a mind of their own, filling up the empty document line by line. 

“I think that you don’t fully understand his character. Jason Todd………”

-

Jisung blinks at the screen. 

They’d replied with an even longer, even more detailed response than his own. He’d thought that he’d be over it by the next day, that it was just a one night thing, but he was wrong.

He could pretend to like Jason Todd for you, but he owed this stranger nothing. He still read it though.

“Whatcha lookin at?” Changbin peeks over his shoulder. His roommates were in his room (having been the only soundproofed one) and came in to mess with the studio every so often. Now was one of those times.

Chan had called a break to pick up some take out, which Jisung took as his permission for some nice computer time. He looks to Changbin, trying to figure out how to word it.

“I’m arguing with this person on reddit about who the best Robin is.”

No deniability there. 

Changbin’s grin grows, leaning in from behind Jisung to get closer to the screen and taking the mouse into his hand to skim the text.

“They’ve got you writing essays here dude….” He scrolls down, reading their latest response a little slower. “Ouch.”

“Ouch? What’s ouch?” Chan asks from the doorway, locking the door behind him. He drops the food onto the table, coming up behind the computer to join the two.

“Jisung’s getting his ass beat by a comic book nerd in the comment section.”

Jisung's head perks up, offended.

“I am not. Look, I even cited sources.”

Chan scrolls down, connecting the story quickly.

“So did they…”

“Whatever.” He shuts the laptop before the conversation can continue further. He’ll just have to make a better rebuttal tonight. He’ll show them.

Chan brought chinese food. It was a big favorite throughout the group because of the ‘share-a-bility’ as Jisung called it. They’d set everything out in the middle of the table buffet style and pick out of there and eat off of each other's plates. It was cheaper, yes, but it was also a surefire way for them to all have dinner together once in a while. It was a mandatory bonding night every month that started after Chan hadn’t left his room for 4 days straight.

He dips a piece of chicken into the red sauce, stuffing his cheeks. Changbin talks about how he watched I.N. stumble through an english presentation that he had accidentally created on the wrong topic. They all laughed at that. It seemed like such a him thing to do.

Chan turns to him, gesturing with a chopstick full of noodles.

“Did you visit the comics store today? You were pretty late to the lecture.” 

He shouldn’t kiss and tell really, but the guys have given him so much advice that it would be a crime not  to tell them. So he recites his entire morning from his entrance up until the lecture with a giggly grin on his face. He doesn’t mention his stuttering, but he’s sure the others assume it just from knowing him. 

They look surprised, as if they hadn’t expected him to be able to work up the courage to speak more than 3 words to you. Changbin squints.

“Wasn’t Jason Todd the one that you wrote that hate rant about though?” Chan nods.

“Well first of all, it wasn't a hate rant. It was an argumentative essay in favor of Dick Grayson.”

Changbins is already grinning at this, but he digs his stupid nerdy hole even deeper. “And two, I would talk about any character with her. Even some random marvel dude.”

They share an amused look.

“Did you get her number atleast?”

Jisung pauses, staring into his chicken. 

“We’re not…there yet.”

Changbin nudges his shoulder a bit roughly. He turns back and glares, slightly pouting.

“That’s how you get there.” he winks exaggeratedly. Chan nods in agreement again, shoveling more food into his mouth.

He doesn’t answer, choosing to stuff more food into his cheeks and sulk. Good things take time, right? He can use the Jason Todd textbook of things to like about him and use them on you. 

Maybe he’d have to talk about himself at some point, but. Baby steps.

-

Jisung comes in again the next morning as you’re dusting the shelves.

You’d spent the night using him as confidence to battle your e-enemy. You even had the thought of asking Jisung what he thought of your takes, but you didn’t feel like your friendship was to that point yet. He might think you’re some freak that argues with people online (and you are, but he doesn't need to know that).

It’s not common for him to come in two days in a row. You push down the small glimmer of hope that he came in specifically for you. Technically, he didn’t buy anything yesterday, but it’s not like he really had time.

You’re surprised he knows Felix though. You didn’t want to come off as a stalker, but you’d recognize your neighbor’s face popping up on his phone when he called. If you were anyone else, you’d bring it up to Felix, maybe have a little laugh about it. Unfortunately, you prefer not to talk to many people unless you need to, with Jisung being the only exception.

“Do you have any comics, um….” He starts, biting his lip in thought. You take the chance before he finishes.

“That’s pretty much what we sell, yeah.” You joke with a teasing smirk. His face goes red and the corner of his lip curls up a bit.

“About romance.” He says.

You pause. Romance? You didn’t really see him as a romance reader, but maybe you’d read him wrong? The thought of him cozying up with a lighthearted romance book is kind of cute though.

“You read romance?”

It’s his turn to pause. He looks around for a second before slowly nodding wordlessly, not making eye contact. It’s adorable, and it makes you want to scream. You set the duster down, skimming the shelf in front of you. 

“I’m sure we have something here. Superhero romance? Or not dc related?”

He answers immediately.

“Superhero. I like reading about how they find love even though they’re a bit different.” He teeters back and forth on his feet.

It’s like he really is trying to kill you. You ignore how his words make your heart clench in your chest, leading him over to the section labelled with the S’s as he blindly follows.

“We don’t really sort by genre, but Superman has a lot of issues about him and Lois. I think if we dig deep enough we can find a thing or two!”

If it were any other customer you would have shown them the section and been on your way, but you liked spending time with Jisung. If anyone asked, it was just good customer service. 

“Any morning classes today?” you try, sinking to your knees and pulling out one of the white file boxes that stores the low priced comics. He does the same, grabbing another box.

“Not until noon. I made sure to schedule around my visit this time.” He smiles, flitting through the books. That means he has more time to spend here, you note.

You take your time pulling out issues with the couple on the cover, flicking through the pages and putting them back.

“What do you major in?”

 If only Martha could see how conversational you were now. She once said getting you to talk about yourself was like pulling teeth.

He looks over to you, hands pausing.

“Music Composition.”

You look up to him surprised. 

“Music composition? That's insane. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone doing that. I didn’t even know they had that here.”

He smiles a sheepish smile, shrugging. 

“It’s busy work, but I’m humble.” You giggle, earning a smile from him.

When he asks about your major, you actually answer truthfully. (Usually you just tell people you study finance so they’ll leave you alone. Nobody wants to talk about accounting).

“I’m doing Computer Science.” His eyes widened more than yours had. 

“So you’re like, crazy smart then?” He’s not even touching the box anymore, arms wrapped around his legs, knees up to his chest. 

“Well,” You tease, “I’m humble.” He rolls his eyes playfully.

Jisung gets easier to talk to by the minute. Your headphones aren’t even around your neck, having been cast off to the side the second that he walked in. He asks about your job, favorite spots to eat around campus and friend groups, and you tell him. He has a way of extracting information from you with a simple interesting question. 

You learn that he has two roommates, Chan and Changbin, but his friend group is bigger. They’re all in some type of arts program. He writes lyrics, but only ever publishes music with his roommates. He likes cats but he's always been a bit scared of dogs because of a rabid pitbull that bit his leg when he was twelve. He’s the most interesting person you’ve ever met.  (He gets shy when you tell him that, though.)

He’s halfway through a story about an accidental blind date his friend went on when a cover catches your eye. 

“Aha!” You shout. He flinches back a bit, and you lower your voice. “Sorry. Look.”

You hand him the issue. It’s thicker than most comics in this section. On the front page is a picture of Clark Kent and Lois leaning into each other at both ends of a desk, teasing smiles on their faces. The issue is titled ‘Superman's Girl Friend, Lois Lane’.

He goes silent, taking it from your hands and quickly skimming a few pages. He smiles. 

“I like this one.” You take another look at it. 

“I’ve never read it, but it looks pretty long. Only 5$ though. Not bad at all.” He hums in agreement. 

You don’t want to ring him up just yet, but you do anyway. You’d spent nearly an hour and a half on the ground “sifting through boxers” and talking. He’s starting to become the highlight of your shift (and your day).

-

You pat down your pockets, searching for your keys. Jisung hadn’t come in for a few days, and you definitely weren’t disappointed. Nobody needs to buy a new comic everyday. He was probably busy reading the one he’d just gotten.

To fill that conversational hole in your heart, you’d logged onto reddit on your break and responded to your e-enemies (second? third?) rebuttal. Your conversations had expanded from the two characters into comparing different arcs and plotlines. Their messages were a bit angrier every time, and while you did feel bad riling someone up so much like this, you really quite enjoyed it. It became a little guilty pleasure of sorts.

Now you just need to get in your apartment and curl up in bed. The heating had gone out on the main floor, making the lobby freezing cold. You weren’t sure if the separate rooms had heat or not, but you weren’t worried. You’d stocked up on enough blankets to keep you through the apocalypse. 

The key is in your hand, but just as you’re sticking it in the lock, a voice peeps in from behind you.

“Hey (name)!”

It doesn’t sound like Martha, so you’re already safe. You swivel around. Lee Felix is waving at you, limping over with bags of groceries overflowing in his hands.

You give a small wave, readying to turn back around and enter your apartment again. 

“I hate to ask this, but could you grab the door? My hands are a bit full” He lifts his arms, showing you the bags. “It’s already unlocked.”

You nod, pushing the door open and letting him though. He doesn’t let you stop there though.

“Did you just get off shift?” He inquires, using his heels  to slip off his shoes without hands.

You nod again. “Comic store.”

He stills for a second, lighting up. “Morning shifts?” You glance around, nodding again. He probably thinks it’s all you know how to do.

“Actually,” he grimaces, “do you think you could help me put away some of these? I hurt my ankle pretty badly, it’s kind of hard to move around.” That checks out. Jisung had mentioned something about his friend spraining his ankle and just now getting off of crutches. It also explains the way he was limping earlier.

You nod again, following him in. He starts to unload the bags, nodding you over to where the different items need to be put. It’s a fairly quiet task. There’s your good deed for the day.

“The least I can do is make you something. Dinner maybe?”

You freeze. You don’t want to get ahead of yourself or anything, but you know what ‘dinner’ means in a casual context, and you are one-sidedly loyal to a specific pair of glasses-wearing regular at your shop.

Felix must notice your hesitation because he stops and rephrases. 

“I’m hosting a dinner with my friend tonight and I was gonna make a lot anyway. You could even…come over if you want? They’re a pretty nice group, they don’t bite.”

You’re not sure why he’s offering this. You and Felix are neighbors at best. You’ve had the odd elevator interactions, but that was about it. 

He makes a show of walking on his limp, titling his head. With the way he’s giving you puppy eyes right now though, it’s near impossible to say no. You internally debate. You could fake an allergy, but you’re sure he’d just end up finding a workaround.

“What time?” you pull out your phone, checking the time. “I have a class tonight.”

“It’s a game night so we usually start a little later. Around 8?”

Damnit. He’s got you.

“Okay…” you nod. He brightens again, grinning and nodding, “Do you think your friends would be okay with that?” He nods even harder. 

“Oh definitely.”

And with that, you’re left with one lecture and a new dinner scheduled. Maybe you need to rehearse with Martha. Practice your social skills and all.

-

“Get your feet off of my dash.”

Jisung sticks his tongue out, digging his heels further into the plastic. 

Minho’s car has become the designated non-profit friend group uber, because he’s the only one that could afford one. He’d called the front seat before Minho had even arrived at their apartment, forcing his bulky roommates into the backseat. 

The driver drops his hands to his lap, leaning back into his seat and going still.

“I’m not driving until you take them down.” and he pulls out his phone, mindlessly scrolling. Changbin kicks the back of the passenger seat. 

“Dude come onnnn. I’m hungryyyy.” He whines. Chan just rolls his eyes, reaching over to pull the boy's heels down. Jisung accepts the defeat with a huff. Minho clicks back into gear, hand coming to the other seat to steady himself as he reverses. They all wolf whistle at that, like they do every time. 

“It’s bad enough he’s wearing that stupid hat. He should just walk.” 

He looks at Minho, offended. 

“How dare you? This is a gift.”

Atop of his inky waves is a baby pink bucket hat, with a strap tied around his chin. In hot pink comic sans are the words ‘SWALLOW QUEEN’.

It was a hat he, Felix and I.N. liked to pass around. They’d leave it at each other's house in some random spot, and then text the other ‘check the dishwasher/sugar jar/etc.” and today, it was Jisung’s turn to swallow queen Felix.

Chan chimes in, “I think it looks great on you, Jisung.” Changbin giggles.

“Really fits his character.”

He reaches behind him and blindly smacks his friend, missing anyway.

“You guys just don’t get it.”

Minho smoothly brakes into the parking space. Jisung is kind of jealous of how good of a driver he is, even though it’s to be expected.

The boys load into the lobby at 7:59. They’d been around so many times that the doorman already knew them. Minho pulls his jacket a bit tighter around himself and Changbin rubs the growing goosebumps forming on his arms. 

“It's kind of chilly in here..”

“I’ve got a hat you can wear!”

-

“Hyunjin, can you get the door?’

He groans, setting his drink down. Felix had promised an “extra special” guest for tonight’s dinner (that they’d all just kind of assumed would be his Wii for Mario Kart night), but he’d been weirdly excited about it all night. 

Seungmin was the last to arrive at 8:17, Felix having written down everyone’s arrival times.

Everyone had started picking at the appetizers he’d set out. Felix really was an amazing cook. They’d tried to do a potluck once, but it didn't….go well. So they left most of the food stuff to Felix.

Most of the boys had been huddled around the snack table, debating on what game was the hardest to beat. The voted lineup for tonight was charades, monopoly, and then whatever else they could get to (because they’ve never been able to complete a full game of monopoly in their life).

He pulls the door open, slightly curious. It’s not uncommon for Felix to introduce them to his friends, but he doesn’t usually keep them a secret. You stand there, surprised. You were probably expecting Felix. He gives you a once-over. There’s a box of what he assumes to be store bought cheesecake from his view through the foggy plastic. He smiles, opening the door further to invite you in.

“There she is! (Name), our guest of the hour!” Felix announces.

He pulls you inside, closing the door quickly, as if you were going to bolt out any second. He wasn’t entirely wrong though. You did look pretty on edge.

The guys perk up smiling. Seungmin pauses, the only one that recognizes you.

“Don’t you work at the comic shop by the campus?”

You pause, nodding slowly with an awkward smile. Chan and Changbin's head pop up immediately, staring you down and sharing an awed glance, eyebrows perched high.

“She’s also my neighbor, and we wouldn’t have this dinner if it weren’t for her,” he takes the cake from your hands, "Everyone say ‘thank you (name)!”

Varied voices repeat it. 

“Thank you (name)!” Changbins still smiling a huge, cheesy grin, motioning you over to join them at the table, you accept tentatively, introducing yourself.

“Did I miss the special guest?” a voice pops from the bathroom.

-

Han Jisung doesn’t know what he did in his past life, but it must have been really bad. Like, burning villages and killing orphans bad, something to deserve this.

He excused himself from the table for one second. Went to the bathroom for one second, and now he’s face to face with you. The object of his utmost affections is sitting with his friends in Felix’s living room, and he has nothing prepared. 

It took him forever to build the courage when he had prep time, but now? It’s over for him. 

Changbin’s grinning wickedly from behind you, a friendly hand on your shoulder. He had to have known. Your eyes are wider than he’d ever seen them. You probably weren’t expecting him here either. Oh my god, what if you think he’s stalking you?

Your gaze lifts to above his head, eyebrows furrowing the tiniest bit. 

The hat. He forgot about the hat.

He’s standing in front of who he hopes to be his future white picket fence partner in a ‘swallow queen’ hat. 

Chan breaks the silence with a snort he attempted to restrain. Seungmin catches on, lips quirking up as he introduces you.

“This is (name). She works at that comic store you go to.”

“We’ve met a few times!” you add more to Seungmin than him. He just gapes, mouth opening and closing like a fish. 

He wants to dig a hole and die.

“I like your hat, by the way.”

-

It’s slightly embarrassing to admit, and you don’t know why, but you’re kind of enjoying the company of Jisung and Felix’s friends. They have a way of making you feel included but not coming on too strong. It’s weirdly comfortable for a first meeting. 

You definitely weren’t expecting Jisung to be there though. You hadn’t gotten to talk to him one on one yet, but he’s been slightly awkward all night. His friends must have been used to it though, because with every stutter came a chorus of giggles or teases from them. You felt similar to him, but hid it a little better.

It happened when Felix passed out the cheesecake.

“How far are you in the romance issue?” you sit next to him with your plate, whispering in case he was embarrassed about reading romance around his friends. He looks over, and quickly chews and swallows his bite. There’s a bit of cream on the side of his mouth. He wipes it with his sleeve quickly, then realizes what he did and flushes. He just nods.

“70 pages.”

He’s got the number memorized and everything. He must like it. 

“Is it everything you thought it would be? And more?”

He smiles for a second and nods again. “It’s really sweet. Kind of just a series of oneshots, but they’re in chronological order. It’s like seeing little snippets of their relationship.” You hum.

“They do have a fun relationship story. I like how Lois keeps trying to figure out his identity. I know a lot of people don’t, but the chase is fun to read. It’s cute.”

“I like how it shows Clark's awkward side. It makes him feel human. Lois brings it out of him. Like yeah, he’s superman and all, but he’s also just an awkward guy sometimes.” He contemplates. 

“Like you.” You poke his side teasingly. He recoils and giggles. 

“I guess…”

Superman talk opens up the Jisung you know again. He sits with you as you get lost in conversation, even feeding him a piece of cheesecake off of your fork. 

"It tastes better when you eat it with the fork upside down," you'd told him. (Was it a boldfaced lie so you could feed him? Maybe. Did he have to know that? No).

Even when the others drag you into a game of charades, he’s still bubbly and charming.

throughout the night.

You have to work a shift tomorrow and Felix has an early class, you all depart around 11:30. 

Changbin pats you on the back again, and you exchange all of your pleasantries with the guys. Felix promises to invite you to more events, and you smile. (You might actually take him up on that…). 

Jisung approaches you as you’re walking out, (not that you’re going far, given you’re the next door over). 

“I was wondering if I could maybe get your number? Just so I can update you on the Superman and Lois comic obviously. Chan isn’t really great at conversation on the intricacies of their relationship, you know…” He doesn’t make eye contact with you, rubbing his sleeve.

“I can definitely see that. Here,” you gesture for his phone, he quickly pulls it out and hands it to you, almost dropping it. You type your number into the phone, leaving the contact name blank. 

“I’ll um…I’ll text you!” He assures you endearingly.

You smile. “Okay.”

-

Jisung hasn’t gathered the courage to tell you about his reddit enemy yet. (It already sounds bad enough just using that term). 

He’s been texting you for two weeks, talking about anything and everything under the sun. He’s so passionate about showing this random person who's boss. 

It’s gotten to the point where he writes a response everyday. They’re not as long as they started out to be, but they’re definitely more frequent. He’s covered almost everything he could think of, and they have the worst takes on everything. The robins, Batman's morals and origin, the concept of the Joker's death. Everything. 

The only thing they’ve found a middle ground on was Superman. To be fair, it’s Superman. You can’t really hate him. 

Jisung may be a little biased though. When he reads a Superman comic, he likes to imagine himself in his shoes. 

A lot of people like to say that Spiderman is the most relatable superhero. He’s not some fancy billionaire or a superhuman assassin with years of training. He’s just an awkward teen trying his best. 

But he’s not Superman. 

Superman is getting through life the best he can. He tries to be a good person even if he’s still learning about life. Even with everything he has going on, he goes through life with an optimistic outlook and tries to make everyone smile.

That’s exactly what Jisung wants to be.

It’s also a bit embarrassing, but he sees you in Lois too. Someone wouldn’t think it unless they’d met you. You don’t share the outward headstrong demeanor or pushy attitude, but you had the passion. You were determined and intelligent. 

He thought that Superman and Lois made a pretty good pair.

He hoped you did too.

The comic had been finished and on his desk for a week, but he hadn’t told you that. Instead, he would pretend he’s been busy, only reading a few pages a day, so he could prolong it. He didn’t need to really. You both had expanded from talking about just comics.

But that was what he was most confident in. It was like speaking to you in a secret little language that only the two of you knew.

-

You’d picked up a small bit of information about your online friend over time.

They were an avid comic fan (obviously) and owned a lot of physical copies of what they referenced, (even inserting pictures into some of their responses). 

You were able to see their wrist in the corner of one of the pictures. They had a temporary wristband on. The kind you’d get at a state fair or waterpark. You’d made out what letters you could, and looked it up (you’d blame it on boredom). 

What surprised you the most though, was that it was for a local music event. One right on campus. You’d known about it because Felix had mentioned it in passing once. You’d asked about his ankle, but he claimed it was fine. Jisung later informed you that it was not, in fact, fine.

Jisung had gone too. He hadn’t come in the morning after, texting you and whining about how bad his head and feet hurt. Poor thing.

You turn the laptop brightness up. The cafe corner you were tucked back into was quiet and peaceful. It's how you liked it. It was also good that nobody was there to watch your investigative spiral.

In your mind, this person is your friend. You’ve been chatting weekly about comics (they even like Superman and Lois!). It’s fun to debate with them. You’d like to think they feel the same.

But you don’t talk to many people, and you’d like to know who you’re talking to everyday. Maybe you could even meet in person since they seem close. Jisung would like them.

The waitress comes and drops off your blueberry muffin, refilling your coffee. You go to pull out your wallet.

“Someone already paid!” She alerts you, nodding over to the counter. 

Changbin and Chan are ordering, the former giving you a friendly wave. You stare for a second. How did they find you? You’d picked a spot tucked into the back for a reason, but who are you to say no to a free breakfast?

You return the wave and return to your screen, zooming in on the posted picture again. The duo joins you in the booth against your own will, sliding into the seat infront of you. Changbin leans over.

“You look so studious over here. What are you up to?” Chan breaks off a piece of his croissant, wordlessly offering it to Changbin. He accepts, turning to you again. 

“Um…just some research.”

“For English?” He peeks at your screen before you can hide it. His eyebrows raise. “Oh, did Jisung send you that?” You still.

“What?”

He tilts his head. “No?”

You open the computer a bit more. “Why would you think that?”

Chan looks over, matching Changbin's confused tone. He licks his lips and wipes his hand with a napkin, pulling the screen towards him. You let him.

“That’s Jisung's room.”

What?

“It is?”

Changbin’s zooming into the picture. “Why do you sound so shocked?”

You shake your head. Not much left to lose now. The least you could do was be honest. They did buy your breakfast afterall.

“I’ve just been…talking… to someone on reddit. In the comments. And they posted that.” The duo's eyes widen comically at the same time. “I just saw the bracelet and recognized it from the music festival and…yeah…”

You’re still processing it. Jisung? His roommates had both confirmed that it was his room. Jisung and the mystery person both had crazy extensive comic knowledge. Their favorites were both Dick Grayson.

Wow.

The only two people you genuinely felt a connection with when talking to were…not two people at all. It was just Jisung. 

You can’t even be mad. You should’ve realized it a lot sooner. Who else would argue with a random online about comics except for him? (and you…). 

Chan realizes at the same time as you. 

“You’re the one he was arguing with?”

“He told you about it?” Changbin nods. 

“All the time. He hates you dude.”

Well ouch. To be fair, he doesn't really know it’s you. Does he?

You stare at the screen while the guys laugh. The hand looks like his, you suppose. The timeline is a bit blurry, but you posted that around the time he started coming in a lot.

The only problem is that Jisung likes Jason Todd. He agrees with most of your takes. The commenter doesn’t. Passionately.

“Why are you squinting so hard?”

-

Operation: Catch Han Jisung (a.k.a. Reddit user doolsetnet) started on a slow Tuesday morning.

Jisung had come in to visit you, part of his routine. He didn’t usually buy anything unless he really wanted to. You were at the point in your friendship where he could stroll in just to talk to you while you stocked shelves. Sometimes he had somewhere to be and only hung around for a few minutes, but on those lucky few days, he’d stay for an hour and help you do whatever it is you needed to finish. His presence had become commonplace in the shop.

You’d informed Changbin of your plan, asking him not to say anything. He agreed, but only on the condition that you update him (and include him!).

When the subject of said operation strolls in, you put the first trial into motion. 

“You like Jason Todd, right?”

He nods without hesitation. “Who doesn’t?”

You shake your head innocently. “You’d be surprised.”

Jisung stills for a second, setting the labelmaker down. He really was an unpaid intern here.

“What’s that mean?”

“Nothing. Just some negative comments online I read. Got me thinking.” He pokes your side.

“Stop reading stuff online. It’ll only make you upset.” He says, half teasing and half sincere. You grow a little braver, testing the waters.

“I just don’t understand why people put so much energy into saying stuff like that online.” You do understand why people do it. You have firsthand experience.

He freezes more visibly this time, laughing it off with an awkward chuckle and shaking his head, nose-deep in the labelmaker. “Yeah, some people just have no life.”

Your stare burns a hole in the side of his head. Trial one failed.

You will confess soon, Han Jisung.

-

Han Jisung is terrified of confessions. 

All of his friends know this. In 3rd grade, he’d spilt milk over the rug and accidentally forgotten about it, leaving it to sour into the fabric over the weekend. When his teacher asked about it, he’d just broken out into inconsolable sobs. Anytime he’d ever had a crush, he sat there and let it simmer forever, waiting until they made the first move or grew distant and closer to someone else.

In short, he’s not a great confesser.

Unfortunately, Changbin and Felix have turned him into a paranoid conspiracy theorist. Every so often, Felix mentions seeing a random guy drop by your apartment in the later hours of the night. (They all know it’s a joke, Jisung included, but it still makes his stomach twist in a way that makes him feel sick).

Which is why he’s sitting on the floor with his roommates and the extra aussie, jotting down lines in his notebook.

“Make it romantic. She’ll probably like that.” Changbin offers. Felix shakes his head, almost looking offended for you.

“He'll scare her with that.” He turns to Jisung, “Don’t come on too strong. Just be chill.”

He nods, scratching ‘chill. romance is scary’ into the paper with his pencil. Chan leans over and erases the second sentence with his own pencil. 

“Romance is not scary. You just need to do it in a way that makes you comfortable and confident.”

He nods again, writing ‘comfy and confident’ over the faded lines. Felix and Changbin hum in agreement. 

“I don’t know…” he shuts the notebook, “maybe it’s too early.” 

Changbin scoffs. “As if. She’s gonna be hanging off some other comic nerd's arm in a few days if you don’t grow a pair soon.” Jisung thinks that Changbin knows how uneasy the thought makes him. He knows where to hit to make it hurt, that’s for sure He hates that it’s working. 

Chan rubs his shoulderblade. “Don’t listen to them. Just take your time with it. Go at your ace. Confident and comfortable, remember?”

Confident and Comfortable. He could do that. Confident and comfortable.

-

Plan 2 is more of a group effort. (Group being you and Changbin…).

Your response had been typed up before dinner. You knew that he had notifications on because of how fast your comments were responded to. Also because Changbin told you so, but he doesn't need all the credit.

The family-style restaurant that Felix had recommended for the group was nice and quiet, making it the perfect place to set up a mystery phone ping. It was only you, Felix and the 3 dormmates. Chan liked to call you guys the ‘apartment buddies’. The name never stuck. He definitely wasn’t bothered by it.

You’d clicked the post button right as the waiter left with the dirty dishes. A few seconds later, Jisung's phone pinged. Loudly. Did he really make his reddit notifications a different tone?

Felix, the only one not in on the plan, looks up. “Is that the reddit guy again?”

Jisung looks up like a deer in headlights, cheeks full. His eyes dart back and forth from you to Felix frantically. He quickly swallows. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lix.” His tone hardens for a second as he pulls out his phone, trying to discreetly silence it. 

“Reddit guy?” you try. 

“No. Um,” he pauses, ”Just…someone. They like to text me a lot.”

“Oh? Got a hot date?” Felix teases. You know the notification isn’t from a random person, but Felix’s comment stings you a little bit. You swallow and go silent. Jisung answers awkwardly. 

“Um. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Oh.

Changbin and Chan share a confused look.

You’re quiet for the rest of the night.

-

In, 2, 3, 4,

out, 2, 3, 4

He finds himself doing the same breathing exercise outside of the shop that he’d done a few months ago. Except this time, he’s not just going in to talk to you about comics. He’s going to confess his feelings for you.

He’d spent a week coming up with and preparing for how he’d do it. None of the guys knew about it though. He didn’t want to lose his confidence by explaining it. It was kind of embarrassing. 

The bell dings, and you’re working the register again, eyebrows furrowed as you tap the same button repeatedly. He finds it cute.

“What did the register ever do to you?” His voice startles you out of your confusion. Another flashback to his first time talking to you. It almost feels sentimental for what he’s about to do.

“Oh, come off it.“ You look at the digital clock behind him. “You don’t usually come in on Thursdays.” 

That’s true. He usually has lectures a bit earlier on Thursdays, but he planned this around his off day. It gave him some prep time. 

He shrugs. “No lecture today.”

“So you decided to bless me with your presence? I’m so honored.” You tease, looking back down at the problem button. 

“What are you working on?”

You huff. “This stupid button won’t work no matter how hard I press it.” 

He crosses behind the counter, coming over to examine it. You move to the side and let him.

“Have you tried being gentle with it?” He smirks. You playfully roll your eyes.

“Obviously.”

His nimble fingers pull the key up a bit, gently sliding it around. He lets go and lightly taps on it. The ‘6’ shows up on the register.

“I hate you.”

“Don’t hate the player. Can you light another candle?”

His initial assumption of the nice aroma being from you had been correct. You had brought him out candle shopping a few weeks ago and he helped pick out a few new scents for the shop.

You nod, pulling a lighter from the desk drawer and lighting one of the open candles on the counter, propped up next to an Iron Man figure. The scent calms his nerves. Comforts him, even. Chan would be proud.

The confession lingers on his shoulders like a boulder. He wants to get it over with, but he’s also worried that if you rejected him, this would be your last moment like this in the shop. He wanted to enjoy it for a little bit longer. Just in case.

“Did you know Bob Ross used to be a drill sergeant?” he asks.

You set the lighter down. “No way. He’s too kind spirited.”

He nods eagerly. “Believe it. He didn't like how mean he had to be, so he retired 20 years later.”

You tilt your head at him, lips painted with an endeared smile. “How do you know this stuff?”

“Sometimes I go on a random fact generator and stock up on them. Just in case.”

Other people would think that it’s nerdy or lame, but he knows you understand. You’d never been one to judge anyone, especially him. You probably even empathized. (He might be getting a little ahead of himself).

“Well. Got any more? I’m interested to hear which ones you retained.” You put a hand to your ear, leaning in with a grin.

“Actually.” He stops. Now is the time. He can’t afford to chicken out. “I have something I need to tell you.” He reaches into his tote bag, thumbing the cover of the book.

Your face lights up, almost…knowingly?

You bite the inside of your cheek in an attempt to hide your grin. 

“Jisung, I know.”

His thumb stops.

“You do?”

You nod, giggling. “Yeah. I’m not upset though, don’t worry. I actually thought it was kind of funny.” His expression turns to one of concern.

“Funny?”

“Yeah. I mean, you’re just so…you. I didn’t really expect it.”

Oh. 

He nods slowly, swallowing the lump that grows in his throat. He pushes his glasses back and clears his throat. You weren’t really wrong. He was just Jisung. You were you, and he was…him. It was kind of funny that he thought it would work.

He can’t laugh about it right now though. Maybe in a few years.

He drops the book on the table and speed walks out, ignoring your concerned shouts.

-

You didn’t think he would be that embarrassed about the reddit thing. You’d kind of assumed that he knew you were the other person since he was ‘coming clean’ to you about it.

Maybe you’d said something wrong? Whatever it was, it formed a large dull ache in your gut.

You glance down to the book he dropped. 

‘Superman's Girl Friend, Lois Lane’

Why did he return it? He’d bought it, so technically it was his forever now. There’s an orange slip of paper peeking out from the pages. You open the cover, inspecting it.

“SuperHan and Lois (Name)”

There’s a little stick drawing of the two of you. Him in a cape, standing next to you, typing at a desk. It’s messy and cute and so Jisung.

You flip through the pages one by one. Each story has a sticky note or two.

A pink one in the first oneshot. It’s the one about them meeting. Clark bumps into Lois on his first day of the job and helps pick up her flyaway papers.

‘This reminds me of the first time we talked. I think I scared you a little bit, but I liked listening to your voice. I felt like Clark in this chapter.’

A blue one in another one. It’s a few pages about Lois having Clark try a new ‘human’ food that he’s never had before.

‘The cheesecake hack you showed me at Felix’s dinner party! The indirect kiss kind of flustered me. You were sure of yourself though, like Lois. I’ve only had cheesecake once since then, but I use the hack everytime.’

A yellow one in the next. Lois and Calrk visit a record store. She tries to help him look for a vinyl that his parents used to play, but he can’t quite remember the name of.

“When I came in asking for a romance book, I wasn’t actually expecting anything. I kind of just figured it would be hard to find and let me spend more time with you. Your dedication to helping me find one made me shy though. I’m glad you picked this one.”

There’s a sticky note and memory attached to every story. Each one you read brings more tears to your eyes. You’re on the ground now, hiding under the counter again, like you had been the first time you’d talked.

He wasn’t coming in to confess about reddit at all. It was a love confession. One that you’d been waiting for for months, and he did it in such a personal way.

Your secret language was comics and characters. He’d shown you exactly how he felt about you through your language. He’d connected it to the thing you’d understand the most. Nobody’s ever done something like that for you. Nobody's even known you enough to know that it would be an option.

Your bottom lip starts to tremble. You sit there and reread the book over and over again until your shift ends. You don’t tend to the shelves or take inventory. You just huddle up on the floor and cry.

-

The only word you could think of to describe Jisung's apartment was warm. Just like he was.

Changbin had let you in with no words exchanged. Jisung didn’t have any classes today, so you’d hoped he’d just gone straight home. You were right.

He’d pointed you down the hall to the boys room and retreated back into his own, wishing you good luck. You mentally reminded yourself to thank him later. He really is a good friend.

The halls were lined with pictures of the trio together and embarrassing childhood photos. It was your first time in the apartment, so you took your time. Definitely not because you were scared of talking to Jisung.

There was a squirrel keychain hanging off of his door handle, matching the wolf and pig on Chan and Changbins. You raised your hand, giving three light knocks on the wood. 

“Not right now. Let me wallow in my own misery for a few more hours at least. God, you’re so impatient.”

You contemplated telling him who it was, but you’d decided to just open the door and let it do the talking.

It creaks open and you step through. He’s in a lump of blankets on his bead. His hair is messy and his glasses are folded up on the nightstand next to him. He turns his head, brows furrowed, but drops the expression when he recognizes you. He sits up quickly and coughs. 

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here?” He leans to the side, looking out through the door. “How did you get in?”

“Changbin.” You drop the book on the blankets over his lap. He looks down at it, wincing. You shake your head before he can speak. “Read it.”

“Um…I kind of already have.” He looks up at you, not moving to grab the book. You take a seat next to him on the bed, motioning to the book.

“No, dumbass. Read it again.”

He warily picks the book up, flipping to the cover. He spots the sticky note under his own. It’s another drawing of the both of you, made by you this time. It’s a recreation of the cover photo. You and him leaning over a desk toward each other. It’s captioned ‘The first time you talked to me’.

“I added some of my own little memories in there too.” You’d made your sticky notes all the same color so that they were easy to spot. His eyes water and he looks down, closing the book.

You lift his chin up to make him look at you.

 “I’m sorry. I thought you were talking about something completely different. I read it all wrong. I really like you, Jisung.”

His brows furrow, confusion glistening in his eyes through the tears. You explain. 

“The reddit account. The other commenter is me.”

His jaw drops, grabbing your wrist.

“Shut up.” His voice is scratchy from the tears. 

“I’m dead serious.” You giggle, he slowly joins you, hugging the book to his chest. His hand slids from your wrist to your palm, interlocking your fingers and squeezing hard.

“I like you too.”

“I kind of gathered that.’

-

<U/Doolsetnet has sent you a message>

>where do u wanna go for dinner<

You >why dont u text me like a normal person<

>god forbid a guy have a little fun with his secret identity<

You >whatever. eta?<

>outside<

You buzz him up and he’s in your living room at record speed. You’ve already ordered pizza and queued up Zach Snyder's ‘Justice League’ so it would be ready for him the moment he got out of his lecture.

Jisung tackles you into the couch before you can greet him, going limp on top of you. 

“I’m so tired.” He whines, burying his face into your shoulder.

Your hand comes up to play with the curls that form at the base of his neck. “You can’t be tired yet. We still have pizza and a movie.”

He doesn’t move. “What movie?”

“Justice League.” He lifts his head, looking up at you. 

“Zach Snyder cut?” You nod, self satisfied. You know what he likes. He smiles, and buries his head into your neck again, facing the screen. 

“Play it then.” He instructs. You look over to the pizza on the coffee table in front of you longingly.

“What about the pizza?”

“Feed me.” He opens his mouth wide with a light ‘aaaahh’.

You roll your eyes. “Well I can’t reach it from here.” 

His shoulders raise and drop in a low effort shrug. 

“Oh well.”

You sigh, hand coming up to his hair again. “You’re such a baby.” He just hums, not denying it. 

Grabbing the remote, you press play.

Not deleting Reddit may have been one of the best things you ever did.

a/n: this fic was written in the span of 3 days but i really really like it. Writing him in different AU's is just so fun to me.

The Jisung/Robins mix is very much self indulgent, but it was fun to look into a few older issues for research purposes...

Please let me know what you think of it though! I've never written something this long, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated!! I love you guys!

[charmed-asylum]

You know what Thor is right and he knows what he doing. Huh I ( tearing up like a sad bitch) touch . Like Steve did so much damage that she can’t tell he trying to woo her like oh friends nahhh he mentioned family doing something outside of this his friends life work etc girl this could of been ur first date ( and if she could see it it proves to me it could work and and i be damn) give Steve a run for his money bc let’s be honest Thunder a better friend then Steve saw she was hurting and she same ( sorry gotta stop that damn dog too damn cute) and support her . They share so much but places they don’t it’s like they can fill each other gaps . I wonder who idea was it to bring thunder and pack up a picnic bc they deserve an award . And with the rain ( giggles) 🤭 can we get that adventure to see the mysterious place he lives which I mean coming to the fact she found stuff that belongs to his family it’s a fucking mansion and this attic haha is like a huge ass wing of this place. U need a damn map. The little looks the feel lord the feels got me.

Like I want to add things like this to show I AM NOT CRAZY THIS IS REAL MY STAN IS real it’s gonna happen I just gotta sit on my hands and wait. She longs for something he can give and shit hate me( I’m gonna maybe not regret this …. Might actually) but can’t be anymore worst then what Steve is at least he care and the feelings the realness girl get ur man also I want to see Bucky and Loki interact and try this drink of his. I love this I love it. I love it omg 😳 u have no idea how long of an essay I can do

Someone New 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You've had a crush on your best friend for years, but you're slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: nice to see ya again!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Thor makes himself as permanent as the layers of sediment. Whether you’re in the dirt or looking over the charts and maps, making notes or sorting through your findings, he appears. Knowing he’ll be there keeps you coming yourself. Despite the short nights and long drives, thinking of him finding an empty site deters you from a day off, even against Sam’s pleas. 

The night before was filled with similar chiding from your friend. Sam is as persistent as ever. He always has a new account of his antics with Bucky and never forgets to tell you to take a break. You can’t stop though. You know if you do, you’ll have to think about everything you’re denying. 

The time away has given you time to breathe but it’s suffocated you in new ways. Along with that weight on your chest that has a name, there’s another you can’t quite understand. The one that sees you spending your spare hours alone and your working hours longing for anything but. You’re desperate to get out but terrified of the very same. 

When he arrives that day, you’re ready to give up. The tension in the air is giving you a headache and the dampness makes your skin feel sticky. You just feel gross. 

“Ah, I didn’t think you’d brave the weather today,” he muses as Thunder hops around his feet. You don’t look up, in a mood as grim as the sky. “You’d do well to stay in tomorrow. Trust me.” 

He’s always right about the weather. It must be the familiarity and yet it’s almost eerie how accurate he is. You might take his advice. You don’t like being wet and you’re starting to go cross-eyed from the hours and hours of concentration. 

Thunder yipes as you use your gloves to brush away clumps of dirt. Thor’s footsteps mulch patches of grass that sparsely carpet the dirt. He hums as his shadows looms in your peripheral. 

“Yes, my darling, I believe you’ve found the perfect spot,” he praises. 

You look over curiously. What is he talking about? You only notice then that he has more than the tiny dog with him. He has a basket on his elbow and a blanket under his arm. You sit up and watch him place down the former and shake out the latter.  

He spreads the blanket over the dirt and Thunder jumps onto it, rolling around on the fabric, digging her nose into the patched quilt as she wiggles across it. You clap off your hands and watch him as he gets down to his knees and flips open one side of the basket. He lays out several containers and two thermos’; one is the very same he brought you tea in.  

“I thought you could use a nice lunch before the weather turns,” he stands and nears the fence, “summer doesn’t last long here. You may as well enjoy it.” 

“Lunch?” You utter. 

“Brunch?” He suggest coyly. “Surely you can take a break. You are only human, you need to eat.” 

“You...” you lean to see around him, “you brought me lunch?” 

“I know it isn’t the most elaborate picnic but I thought it might be a pleasant surprise. I must confess I’ve been rather bored these days,” he admits, “so?” 

“Thor, that’s so... sweet,” you frown, “but...” 

“Work, work, work. Surely they can’t expect you to work yourself to the bone, pardon the pun,” he insists, “it will only be a bit.” 

“Yes, but...” you leave the sentence to hang. You don’t have a good excuse. You don’t know. It just makes you nervous. It’s a whole lot of effort for just you.  

“Oh, I don’t mind if you would rather stay over there. Only mean more for, eh, Thunder?” He asks the canine tramping around the blanket. “More than happy to sit here and enjoy my jelly cookies and hot coffee. 

“Coffee?” Your brows raise. 

“Freshly brewed. Promise, There’s nothing pickled. Though I don’t mind a nice herring,” he grins. 

Thunder bounces over and barks at you. She stands on her hind legs as she paws at the barrier between you. Now, how can you deny her? 

You stand and shed your gloves. You carry them over to the table beneath the tent and grab a wet wipe from the back. You come back under the open sky as you wipe your hands. 

“Sorry about all the dirt,” you scoff as you cross the dirt. 

“I don’t mind,” he assures you. He pulls apart the panels of the fence to let you through. It isn’t something you could ever forget but you can’t help but be stricken again by his sheer size. 

You bend to pet Thunder as she gets between your feet. She licks your fingers and you giggle. She’s cute. 

“Go on, pick her up,” Thor goads, “she loves it.” 

You scoop up the dog and stand. She squirms as she wags her tail incessantly. She swipes your chin with her tongue and you scrunch up your face. You carry her to the blanket and look over the spread. A leafy salad, pasta salad, sandwiches, cookies... There’s so much. Your protein bars and peanut butter and jelly can’t compare. 

“Oh gosh, this... a lot.” 

“Is it? Isn’t too much. We’re friends, yes?” 

“Friends?” You face him as you pet Thunder’s soft head. 

“Perhaps it is rather one-sided. You are obligated to be here, I just sort of haunt this place,” he chuckles. 

“No, no, friends,” you smile, “that sounds about right.” 

You turn away and lower yourself onto the blanket, sure to keep your boots off of it, as you hide your face. There’s a tinge of disappointment. You hear a far off echo in your head. How many times did Steve say the same; we’re friends, just friends, you’re such a good friend. Well, that’s all this is. No need to be so sensitive. 

“Do you ever take time off?” He asks as he gets to his knees. 

You look at him as you put Thunder down. He barely keeps her from chomping down on a rye crust. He lifts her easily and she kicks her legs. 

“Eh, you beast,” he points a finger at her snout, “be good.” 

He sets her back on her paws and she obeys. He tells her to sit and she does so. Her eyes continue to hungrily rove over the food. How can he resist them? 

“Like you said, the weather won’t last. Should get done what I can before the ground gets cold.” 

“Ah, yes, that is a concern,” he tuts, “how would you deal with that?” 

“Heat lamps, tiger torch... jackhammer if I really need but I’d have to put in a request for that...” you hadn’t thought too much into the inevitability of winter.  

“Ah, that’s...” he smirks, “I’m sorry but the idea of you with a jackhammer,” he snorts. 

“Hey,” you pout. 

“It isn’t to be mean but... you’re so gentle. When you dig, you’re so delicate about it.” 

“Am I?” You wonder. 

“Mm, is it a bit weird to say so?” He wonders aloud. “Yes, you are very precise, very cautious.” He takes out a set of plates and offers you one, “please, help yourself.” 

“It must be boring watching. Really, I’m the one digging and it gets dull,” you accept and pluck out one of the sandwiches. Salmon, you think. 

“You make it interesting,” he muses. “You talk to the bones.” 

“I talk to the bones?” You repeat, “what?” 

“Yes, I suppose you’re not aware of it. But your lips move when you’re focused. As if you’re chatting up the dirt,” he chuckles, “sometimes a few words do slip out.” 

“They do?” You blanch before you can help yourself to the salad. 

“You don’t say much. Usually something about the dishes, I’m not too sure.” 

“You never mentioned,” you look away shyly. 

“It’s... cute,” he shrugs. 

“You mean crazy,” you shake your head. 

“I say what I mean,” he counters. “No use in not. We can’t be happy if we’re not honest, not least of all with ourselves.” 

You’re quiet as you turn your attention to your plate. His words feel sharp despite his placid tone. You know it’s only because they’re true, especially for you. If you’d just accepted everything sooner, if you hadn’t been so dumb, if you hadn’t been so emotional, it would never have gotten so bad. No, if you’d just been honest. 

“I hope... I hope that didn’t come off wrong,” he says. 

“No, no, I’m... this all looks so good and I’m starving,” you assure him as you sit back with your plate. “Thank you again. This is... great.” 

“Well, I was thinking, you must miss your friends. I might be a paltry substitute but I thought i might fill that gap, even just for an hour.” 

“It’s really...” your eyes tingle but you push away the tinge of sadness, “it’s really nice.” 

“So tell me,” he scoops up salad onto his plate, “tell me about home.” 

“I...” you begin, surprised by the prompt. “It’s just home. New York. It’s busy and loud. Not like here.” 

“No, not that. Your friends. I want to know all about them. If I’m ever going to come up standards, I’ve got to know the competition.” 

You laugh. He speaks as if he needs to impress you. It’s nice to be somewhere where no one knows you’re not that special. You take a bite of the sandwich and chew, thinking out your question.  

You swallow, “well, my friend Sam, he calls every night to bitch at me. He’s great. Supportive but pushy. He likes to terrorise Bucky. He’s the strong and silent type, you know? Grumpy to boot but they’re... they’re awesome.” You smile without thinking, “before I left, they took me to this cocktail bar...” you blow out between your lips and roll your eyes, “real girly stuff.” 

“Ooh, cocktails. I’ve been known to indulge. I love finding new recipes.” 

“Really?” 

“Oh, yes, I love the sweet ones. I’ve only just perfected my blueberry basil concoction. I’m afraid I can’t share the secret ingredient unfortunately.” 

“Blueberry?” You ponder the flavour, “sounds yummy.” 

“Perhaps one day you can try it,” he suggest. 

“Maybe,” you say evasively. “Anyway, yeah, Sam and Bucky are... characters.” 

“They sound like it. How’d you meet?” 

“Oh, it’s boring. What about you?” 

“It’s not my turn,” he deflects, “tell me.” 

You don’t know why he cares. It’s as confounding as everything else about him. You still don’t get why he’s here watching you sit in the dirt. It sounds as grueling as watching a golfing tournament, in your opinion. Yet here he is, a man who looks like that, staring at you in your mud-stained khakis. 

“College. We met through a mutual friend,” you explain vaguely. 

“Ah, so you’ve been friends for some time. Yes, I see, I’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” he hums thoughtfully as he toys with the braid that hangs loose by his face, the rest of his hair twisted back as always. 

“Steve,” you say without thinking, your eyes drifting off into the distance, “he was my best friend. We met in art history. We spent almost every day together. Studying, whatever. He was more of a partier than me but... fifteen years, more than, and we saw each other...” You choke on your words and scoff darkly, “sorry, that’s... I’m homesick, I think.” 

You bat away the glaze in your eyes and focus on your food. You take a few bites as he sits quietly. Thunder stands up cautiously and crosses the blanket. She settles against your leg, leaning her head on your thigh. It’s comforting. 

“Yes, I think I would be very homesick as well. I lived in the city for a while but mother and father, they need me. And I love this mountain. It’s home. There was nothing in Oslo for me. I can work from here.” 

“Work? What exactly do you do?” You ask, happy to divert from your own painful past. “Oo, are you like a farmer? Or a shepherd. There must be sheep up here or something.” 

He laughs, “there are some sheep, yes, but those are protected by the government. We’ve not much of a choice where they settle. No, I’m not so savvy as all that.” 

“Hm, you... oh, what could do you here?” You look around, “on a mountain... oh, tours? Do you give tours?” 

He laughs, “it’s not a bad idea, but no. I’m a business owner.” 

“A business. You must sell fitness or something.” 

“Must I?” He narrows his eyes, “and what else do you assume about me?” 

“Oh, it’s only you’re so...” you cringe as you eke out the word, “big?” 

“Genetics,” he affirms, “not that but close, in a matter of looking at it. You recall that tea I brought you, with the cloudberry?” 

“Uh, yeah, it was sweet. Yummy.” 

“I’m happy you enjoyed it,” he smiles proudly, “I make superblends. All Nordic ingredients. There is a demand for wellness and organic products. I found the right niche and I’ve not done too badly.” 

“Must not if you can live all the way up here,” you remark. 

“Yes, but... it’s a reason I moved back. Business is a lonely venture. Now I’ve got it all figured out, I have my managers and my business plan, I break even, I realise how much I put to the side,” he mulls his sandwich and takes a glum bite. It’s the first time you’ve seen him anything but bright and beaming, “I feel like I’ve fallen behind. Like I’m playing catch up.” 

His words sink in and storm inside of you. You crunch on the crisp lettuce and gulp. You wipe your mouth with a napkin and clear your throat. 

“I know exactly what you mean,” you say breathily. 

“Do you? You’re out here, on an adventure all you’re own, how brave,” his voice is wistful and his gray blue eyes reminds you of the clouds above. 

“Yes, I know,” you say, “better than you. Trust me.” 

You smile, a bittersweet tug in your cheeks, and he stares back at you. Your eyes cling to each other and you feel as if the world is moving around you. He smiles and a glimmer of something unfurls in your chest. You make yourself look away. 

“Well,” you push the salad around your plate, “what about you? You must have friends, aside from the girl in the dirt.” 

He hums and scrapes up a bite of the pasta salad. He takes his time chewing before he answers. You scratch Thunder’s nose as she sniffs at your plate. 

“Yes, if you ever come to sample my cocktails, you might meet a few,” he coaxes, “I think you’d get along. Hogan and Vol, and Fandy. All good company. Sif’s not around so often when my brother’s around but he’s as fleeting as the sun.” He tuts, “I would call Loki a friend as well but he does scowl at the very thought.” 

“Loki?” 

“My brother of course,” he explains with , “yes, he is quite the dour one. He might get along with that Bucky.” 

[yasministration]

Hi lovie, first of all I’m in love with your writing I check your page every day and for the 7k celebration I would love to see the first meeting for the “A certain Malfoy” Au!

Love, kisses and well wishes 💜

Pair up - bill weasley

a certain malfoy au summary: bill hadn't always known you while you were at hogwarts, but a quick interaction brought an end to that wc: 0.7k+

Bill didn’t know you, but for five years consecutively, he knew of you.

It was difficult not to know people in the same year group, considering many of your classes were shared between houses. But from third year, the classes became divided. No longer were you put in lessons with nearly half the year group, but you were put in classes with people who'd selected the same subjects, and that meant you had similar interests.

There were only twenty five students from third to fifth year taking Ancient Runes including you, so Bill had definitely spoken to you once or twice in passing. For example when you asked your classmates if they finished their essays while you debated if you should attempt to finish it before lunch was over. He had definitely laughed at the confused look on your face as you weighed the costs and rewards of rushing to complete the homework.

But somehow, Bill Weasley had never actually had a conversation with you. His words had never been directed to you, and yours had never been directed to him. That might have been due to the fact that you were in different Hogwarts houses and often stuck to your closest friends in the lesson, sitting on the opposite end of the class to Bill, which he always felt indifferent about.

At least, until the beginning of your sixth year. With so many people having dropped the uncommon subject after O.W.Ls (leaving only eight students in the year group to take Ancient Runes), Bill thought he should branch out and make new friends — a feat which was frankly quite easy.

Professor Babbling had asked you all to move to the table closest to her desk — easiest for discussions, she had said. Easiest to teach. Bill, being the first student in the class, had watched everyone file in, much shyer than they had been two years ago since they didn’t have their friends by their side.

But you?

You trotted in as though you were best friends with all of them, dropping your bag on the floor next to your chair and sliding down on it, sitting on Bill’s immediate right. You had taken a good look at your classmates, sighed deeply and said “If anyone sees my posture breaking, just slap me and it’ll do the job.” Bill had laughed in shock, and a Ravenclaw boy had choked on the water he had just sipped. A girl across from you had raised an eyebrow and said “You can count on me for that.”

At least you had broken the ice.

You then cleared your throat uncomfortably as the room fell into another awkward silence, leaning in close to Bill’s side and mumbling sarcastically “Glad we established some dynamics here.” Bill had snorted, but his chest had swelled with something like pride, completely under the impression that you chose him as your token class friend.

Professor Babbling made your first lesson after the holiday simple enough, trying to give you a peaceful welcome before the pressure of your N.E.W.Ts would begin. But at the end of the lesson, she had smiled and rubbed her hands together, and everyone in the classroom knew she didn’t have anything good to offer you.

“Alright, pair up. I want this project done by next week. You don’t have to come to our lessons for the rest of the week, just make sure the assignment is done. All your information is on these papers.”

Bill had bitten his lip to hold back a smile as you let your head drop onto the table. He brought a hand to your shoulder, awkwardly patting you. You turned your head to the side, resting your cheek on your forearm as you looked at Bill, who was already looking at you.

“Partners?” He asked, and you nodded slowly, straightening back up. “Better you than the hufflepuff girl who wants to slap me.” And you had immediately packed up your belongings and walked out of the room, leaving Bill to helplessly follow you, poorly attempting to come to an agreement on a date for a study session.

And that was how everything started, with Bill chasing after you whilst you lived casually, will little worries. Not much had changed since then.

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[httpknjoon]

run down my thighs | myg

plot | that time you performed tears for the first time.

w.c | 1.1k

pairing | bass guitarist!yoongi x popstar!reader

genre | enemies to lovers, slow burn

note | looooooved this one haha

main masterlist | series masterlist

“How are we doing, Amsterdam?!”

The crowd screamed, matching your enthusiasm even though you had already performed for an hour straight. There are still a couple of songs left, including one that has a surprise performance for tonight. You were wearing a black, glittery (of course) floor-length halter gown, the one you wear when you perform one of your ballads.

“Seems like everyone is still up for a surprise tonight…” You smirked as your fans cheered in delight.

“Okay, before that, I have a fun fact for everyone.” You began walking to the heart-shaped center of your concert stage. “So, I began writing this next song in Seoul during our stay there.”

Yoongi would have dropped dead on the stage if his eyes threw daggers. He can feel people looking at him, from his bandmates to the audience members nearby, and even those in the VIP standing area. He even heard a distant yet loud voice calling his name. But he didn’t bat an eye about it, like you did, even though a small portion of the crowd reacted to it while you talked.

“The idea came to me during interactions with this very, very… I guess I could say, a responsible guy? I don’t know, maybe my bar was really on the ground before.” Everyone laughed, including your live band, who are watching you from behind. “But he was so responsible, so respectful, I think he made– well, still making– me feel… things.”

All Yoongi can do is smile and shake his head as you twirl the ends of your hair at a distance. He will never be tired of your great on-stage persona that you always keep up. 

“Anyway, here is Tears!”

The lights dimmed down in a snap as the crowd cheered, as tonight will be your first live performance of the song. The spotlight opened, pointed at your figure. You were turned around, posed with your right arm raised, fingers pointed, while your left hand held your customized glittery microphone.

You began humming, just like you did at the beginning of the hit single, feeling it as you ran your right hand from your head down to your body. Just before the first chorus starts, the lights turn on, revealing your dancers dressed as the same characters in your music video. A pole can also be seen set up on the stage.

“I get wet at the thought of you, being a responsible guy…”

You began dancing with your dancers before walking around the stage for the first verse, doing rehearsed bits. Your fans sang the song, word by word, fueling the energy of your band. You were in the last line of the chorus when you walked to their area on stage. 

“A little respect for women can get you very, very far…” You leaned on Noah, who nodded his head to the song.

Then you moved to Akio, letting her sing a few words to your mic, “Remembering how to use your phone gets me oh so, oh so, oh so hot…”

Then you stood in front of the band, “Considering I have feelings, I'm like, 'Why are my clothes still on?"

The music stops abruptly, confusing the audience.

Dead silence as the lights turned down again. 

Then, the spotlight pointed only to you again, showing you struggling to reach something behind your neck.

“Oh, wait– Can somebody help me with this?!”

Screams filled the arena when Yoongi came up behind you with a stupid smile on his face. You winked at the camera as he worked on your clothes, resulting in an eruption of screams from your fans who definitely feed on the rumors going around between you and your bassist.

“Offering to do anything, I'm like–”

“Oh my god!” the fans screamed as you turned your microphone to them.

As if on cue, the dress fell on the ground, revealing a sparkling, metallic, fringe chainmail halter top with matching arm cuffs. The exact one you wore in the song’s music video. If someone looks closely, they will see that your silver thigh chain has a tiny red bass guitar charm attached. Before making your way back to the heart of the stage, you turned to him and pressed your fingers from your lips to his cheek, something not part of the rehearsals. Yoongi, although surprised, had his gummy smile on while shaking his head. You giggled as you sang the chorus again.

Fancams of that moment would later go viral and be edited into various edits. With one fan tweeting: oh my god yn and yoongi stop flirting on stage challenge: failed.

“Treating me like you're supposed to do…”

Just when you are back singing and doing theatrics on the heart stage with your dancers. Two of them left their spots to head straight for Yoongi, reaching for him, causing more excitement for your fans.

The audience screamed when he followed, letting himself be guided to the waiting chair at the bottom center of the heart stage. He sat down, now with the usual blank look on his face, bass still strapped across him. This was all rehearsed and something he agreed to do, but still, he could feel his heart beating faster as he watched you at the front.

“Dance break…” You whispered before doing the choreography you did in your video.

It was like you were dancing for him, locking stares directly at his eyes. You had the same teasing smile on your face, and his only goal was to keep the stoic expression on his face. But when the big screens of the arena showed his reaction on stage, the audience could tell the faint curve on the corner of his lips.

It didn’t help that, as you were singing the last chorus, you were getting closer to Yoongi. The camera caught his jaw flexing just when you leaned closer, the fringe of your top touching his guitar. The crowd went crazy, phones raised, the sound of their screams nearly swallowing the beat. You circled behind him, fingers grazing his hair, lips close enough to his ear that the audience swore you were whispering something meant only for him. But you were still holding your mic.

“Tears run down my thighs.”

You lingered there, bent low, voice sultry against the mic and his ear.

Then the lights snapped down, drowning the stage in black.

And the entire place screamed like they had just got third-wheeled.

SERIES TAGLIST

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[cupcakeinat0r]

‘Te Amo’ doesn’t sound as foreign anymore.

A Miguel who says it repeatedly and randomly throughout the day every day, whether it’s quietly in public or after a belly laugh in the living room. It’s his way of saying I will pick you and only you for the rest of my life and in every life.

The words especially hit late in the night, when they reach your ears from across the kitchen, followed by heavy footsteps.

Your smile deepens when that certain curve of his stomach aligns with the inward crescent of your spine like a puzzle piece; a sensation that feels like home.

“Te amo.”

“…Where’d that come from?”

The interaction is nothing but gentle.

“What? Can’t tell my absolutely perfect girlfriend I love her?”

You turn your head slowly.

“What do you want?”

Miguel feigns a look of betrayal.

“I’m offended that you think so lowly of me.”

You let go of the joke and nuzzle your head under his chin.

“Nah, just teasing. Love you more, papito.”

And like every single other confession of love you two exchange, you share a kiss capable of stopping time.

“Do you realize how much I love you? I don’t think you do,” his mewled words vibrates against your cheek as he spreads more kisses across your face, “Like, I honestly really don’t think you do, Jesus…” you feel him breathe you in like it’s his lifeline, and more kisses are pressed onto you. He lifts his head suddenly as the thought strikes him.

“Come to bed with me?”

He asks, but he asks it like it’s for the first time; as if you two haven’t shared a bed for what feels like years now.

“Please, mamita? Will you come to bed with me? Say you will? Won’t be able to sleep without you.” His voice grows strained and helpless, hints of his saliva left down your neck as more kisses are sprinkled along your skin like a light rain.

You smile widely, dimples on display. You loved when he got like this, which was basically for the entirety of the time in the house. No one saw this side of him, and in his eyes, no one was allowed to.

“Of course, baby.”

“You… you said sleep.”

Miguel, whose head is currently under the sheets and between your thighs.

He reveals himself for just a second, “Don’t act surprised. Y’know I don’t fall asleep on an empty stomach.” And back under he went.

Once the both of your faces are met in missionary, that’s when the ‘I love you’s and ‘te amo’s do not stop. The strained words are paired with the usual: The furrowed brows, the lazy eyes, the even lazier hip rhythm, and those wet, soft lips…. Ugh.

Sometimes… you’ll purposely just take his entire being in, scanning from the singular stand of hair down his forehead that dances to the rhythm of the bed creaks, alllll the way down to where you two connect. It was a sight you wanted seared into your brain. No need to, though.

This man will never let you forget it.

Some nights, he’ll fasten his pace, giving you no mercy whilst muttering the grossest things into your ear.

But tonight is not that sort of night.

To you, it sounds as if he begins to choke up. Your eyes dart towards his, and that’s when you see your kryptonite; the one thing that makes you instantly fall apart; something that you absolutely worship about Miguel:

His eyes begin to well up.

“Aw ffuck,” he dips his head down and hides as his first tear rolls, then looks back at you, “How’d I get so fucking lucky, beba?” he babbles, a quiet sniffle here and there between shaky breaths and low grunts. He’ll occasionally pull out farther for an aggressive thrust, thinking it’ll make him cut out the crying, but he can’t help it. All he wants to do is take you slowly, deeply, and lovingly, even if it means shedding a couple of tears.

Because he just loves you so much.

“You’re my everything, mama.” He mumbles and presses his cheek against yours, letting the tear on his cheek transfer onto your skin.

It’s no time until you start crying, too.

“Baby, nno,” you cup his face, “Why’re you- oof… don’cry ba- oh,” that familiar knot starts to form, making it challenging for coherent speech.

With one last slow drag of his length, he sweetly coaxes you into pure bliss.

While still buried deep, he breathes out a simple phrase. A phrase that used to feel so strange coming out of his mouth. Two words that, during the most loneliest time of his life, forbade himself from ever saying again.

Te Amo.

[oddballwriter]

I can understand and appreciate the aus where we’re a rich/upper-class of some kind and Hector takes the role of being a class “beneath us” but still yearns for us anyways. But imagine an au where it’s the other way around where Hector is the one who’s upper class, but still a recluse, and we’re some sort of humble worker or something. But like… he’s still so hopelessly in love with us.

Like okay just bear with me. Hector is from a wealthy family, the kind where Hector himself is wealthy just by existing. But he’s painfully shy and nervous with social interactions. So he mostly holes himself up in his room all day unless he absolutely needs to come out, and even then it’s like pulling teeth. He’s also not a big fan of suitors and bachelorettes because they all tend to be, well… let’s just say they clearly like his hypothetical money over him. And so Hector, although a huge romantic, can’t really let himself get out there since he doesn’t want to be seen as just dollar signs.

But then he meets you, let’s just say you’re a maid, and he just becomes absolutely taken by you. I can’t really decide if you already know who Hector is but don’t really care for status since it’s clear that Hector isn’t your typical rich asshole who pushes the staff around, so you actually talk to him.

But I also LOVE the idea that you’re new and when you two first meet you just think he’s a fellow worker of some kind. So you talk and crack jokes. No “Yes, sir. No, sir. Right away, sir” stuff that Hector doesn’t really like, and no clear indication that you’re trying to get something out of him. He’s equal to you and he just falls deeply in love with you. And I love this idea because its a nice reversal of the Cinderella-like thing that the other AUs do where instead of Hector masquerading as someone upperclass, he’s trying to blend in as being lower class so that you two can continue talking and bonding as he “works the tasks with you”.

It would also add some really great angst because Hector would always worry about his cover getting blown in a whole new way. Instead of you shunning him because he’s poor, he’s scared that if you find out who he really is you won’t love him anymore because you’ll think that he was just trying to play with your feelings and take advantage of you since that’s a very common thing with things like this. Maybe he also fears that if his family finds out that he’s with/fallen for a person of lower class they’ll fire you and accuse you of being a gold digger and trying to marry up the social ladder, and Hector doesn’t want that at all.

Bonus: I think that it would be hilarious that since Hector has lived his whole life in the lap of luxury and has people to take care of all of the chores around that house/estate/whatever, Hector has no clue what to do in order to blend in with all of the servants. Which could actually work well with his whole “silent observation” thing. He secretly watches the servants work so that he knows how to do things and mimic it so that he’s not dusting the carpet or whatever. But sometimes the rich boy slips out and he has to calculate what he has to do in his head without looking obviously clueless.

[chosology]

GOJO SATORU — when did you get hot?

⟢ nerd!gojo ⸝⸝ 0.8k wc .

gojo satoru once used to be pathetic. he was the kind of boy who sat at the back of his class with crooked glasses sliding down his nose, sweaters too big for his frame, and a habit of laughing at jokes he didn’t find funny just because he didn’t want to be left out. he was smart — the one who knew everything, always keeping himself updated with the latest shows, trending music, and the recent news cycles, always topping the class — the kind of smart that didn’t make him charming, just forgettable. he was just a nerd that people forgot existed unless they needed help with something.

then there was you. the girl he had the biggest crush on during high school. and it didn’t help that you were leagues away from him — popular, charming, charismatic — everything he wasn’t. it was embarrassing, really — the way he lit up whenever he saw you around, how he would smile just by hearing you laugh, or when he lingered in the hallways just so he could watch you pass by. he just wanted to be in your presence, to at the very least exist in your world. but you never spared him more than a glance. even so, gojo carried every fleeting interaction like a treasure. like when your keychain fell off once, and he picked it up.

he contemplated walking away and keeping it for himself. a little selfish, yes. but he returned it to you anyway, no matter how envious he was (yes, he was jealous of a keychain) because it was yours — probably something you cherished. and when you turned around and thanked him with a smile, his heart stopped. he stumbled backwards, words tumbling out uncontrollably, face heating up redder than a tomato. pathetic. he couldn’t even hide the fact that he liked you.

it was beyond humiliating when he found himself sweating through presentations just because you were sitting in the front row, tripping over his own shoelaces when you looked his way, even convincing himself that lending you a pen when you forgot your pencil case meant something. his crush on you was loud and obvious, but he wondered why you never noticed. or maybe you just never acknowledged him at all, given how irrelevant he was.

eventually, he told himself he’d get over it — this stupid crush of his — that he’d move on, grow out of it. and for a while, he did. kept it that way by avoiding you throughout the entirety of high school. until he saw you with your friend, on the dance floor of a college party he didn’t want to be at. he thought he’d buried it — his feelings, the late-night daydreams, the stupid hope that you’d be his one day — he swore he was over you. but he realised how wrong he was when you trailed behind your friend, who was walking towards him, to the group of friends he was hanging out with.

panic bloomed in his chest instantly. shit, shit, shit. would you even remember him? if you didn’t, then that would spare him the humiliation, right? sure, he was less pathetic now that he had more friends, and for some reason, people actually liked having him around. but he was still the same person at his core — still hiding behind his glasses, still draped in sweaters twice his size, still topping all his classes, still forgettable — he didn’t change at all. there was still nothing memorable about him, and he was the only one holding onto memories of you.

he forced the lump inside his throat down as your friend started introducing you to his group so casually while he was dying from anxiety. “this is geto, this is shoko, and this is gojo!” your friend said cheerfully. “gojo?” you asked with a confused expression on your face. “yeah, don’t you know gojo?” your friend tilted her head. “huh.. as in gojo satoru?” you blinked at him, a blushing mess standing in the corner of a room.

the sound of his own name leaving your lips almost knocked him off balance right there, spiralling internally. oh my god, you remembered? actually? holy shit, holy shit. this can’t be real. he was so out of it, stuck in a dizzying blur of thoughts that he didn’t even notice everyone had left to get drinks, leaving just you and him behind.

“you’re not going with them?” you asked, your voice snapping him out of his trance. “n—no! i’m—i’ll just.. stay here..” he stammered, voice cracking in the same embarrassing way that he claimed he outgrew.

“gojo satoru, hm?” the corners of your lips curled upwards, eyes sweeping over him in a way that made his stomach flip. “well, when did you get hot?”

“h—hot? like the temperature kind of hot? or in the way society describes—“ he stuttered, very much flustered by your question. you laughed at his reaction, the sound that he loved to hear the most. one that he would replay every second if he could. “definitely not the temperature.” you said, still smiling brightly at him. “i remember you.”

and in that instant, gojo fell still. his heart was beating out of his chest, his hands turning numb from how flustered he was. he didn’t know what to say, standing there stupidly like his brain had stopped functioning. he was set back to where he started — hopeless, and falling all over again for the same person he tried so hard to ignore.

you remembered him. the same forgettable him. and still, he was in love with you, pathetically. always pathetic.

© chosology — est ‘25

[cheshireliam]

Ring Schwartz Main Story: Chapter 4 Premium Avatar Challenge Story

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting┊IkeVil TW/CW List

Hearing about Haus from Nica, Ring came to my mind.

(If Nica was in Haus, then Ring… too…?) 

(I don't know if he’d want to talk about it, but… I’ll try asking.)

I walked through the palace garden, searching for him. 

Just then,—

???: …— 

(Was that voice… Ring’s…?)

I turned to walk in the direction of the voice, and the words gradually grew clearer. 

Ring: You… move another inch and I won’t show mercy.

Ring: If you value your life, don’t you dare go any deeper. Now, leave…!)

(Eh? Did he get into a fight…!?) 

Kate: Ring! What's going on— 

I rushed over, only to see he was alone.

Kate: … Huh? You weren't fighting with someone? 

Ring: I still am. … With this guy. 

Ring pointed ahead at a lone cat sitting quietly. 

Ring: It was trampling on the flowerbeds, so I was trying to get it to stop. 

Kate: Oh, so that's what happened. … Ah. 

The cat wandered off as we spoke.

Ring: *Sigh*. It finally left… but the damage it caused is severe. 

Ring gently picked up two flowers that had their roots snapped off. 

Ring: Anyway, did you need me for something ?

Kate: Oh… um, about that… 

I wanted to hurry and bring up the topic of Haus, but— 

It felt wrong to bring up a negative part of his past without context. 

(Maybe I should start with small talk… no, that’ll seem weird too…)

Kate: Uhh… 

Ring: … Take your time. You patiently waited for me to speak too the last time.

Ring: Now it’s my turn to listen to you. 

With the same tender gaze he had when tending to the flowers trampled on by the cat, Ring stared at me. 

Ring: Ah, right. If you’re nervous, can you hold out your hand?

Kate: Umm… like this? 

I did as he asked and held my hand out, and Ring grasped it firmly. 

A warm, comforting feeling immediately spread from my palm to my heart. 

Kate: What’s this…? 

I looked up at him, surprised by the unusual sensation coming from his hand. 

Ring: This is my curse’s power. I can make anyone happy by holding their hand. 

Ring: It can’t be used in fights, and Dari said I don't need to hide it from you… so, how does it feel? 

(Making someone happy by holding their hand… that’s Ring’s power.) 

In that moment, my heart felt like a flower blooming in a sunny garden. 

— I couldn't tell if it was because of Ring’s power, or because he cared enough to worry about me; but either way, it did make me happy. 

Kate: I feel much calmer now… thank you, Ring. 

Ring: That’s good. This is all I can do for you. 

Ring smiled. 

At the sight of that smile, my heart swelled with a fuzzy feeling… and that was when I knew exactly what I wanted.

Kate: Um… I want to be friends with you, Ring. 

Ring: Friends…? 

Kate: Yes. You wrote in your letter that you wanted to make friends when you came to England. 

Kate: Can I volunteer for that role? 

Ring: I did write that, but… we can’t be friends. 

His firm refusal felt like a massive weight was dropped onto my chest. 

Kate: … May I ask why?

Ring: Because Darius said so. The Cursed and ordinary humans will never truly understand each other. So… it's just not possible. 

Kate: But that’s only Darius’ opinion, isn't it…? What do you think, Ring? 

Ring: I’m interested in humans, but… 

Ring: I follow anything and everything Dari says. Dari is always right. 

(He needs Darius’ opinion even for making friends…?)

(... Maybe Ring’s cautious of humans too because Darius dislikes them.)

Kate: Given what happened in the past, I think it’s understandable that Darius feels he can’t trust humans. 

Kate: But… everyone thinks differently. 

Kate: There’s no way to know if we can understand each other, unless we try. 

Ring: … Did you hear about Haus?

Kate: … Yes, I did. 

Kate: But I really don’t want to give up. Why don't we give it a try? Then we’ll see if we truly can't be friends. 

Ring fell silent for a brief moment before speaking again calmly. 

Ring: … Why would you go to such lengths just to make friends with me?

Kate: Because I want to get to know you, Ring. I’m curious about you. 

Despite the way he sometimes came off as cold and unfeeling, he also occasionally showed his kind side. 

I couldn't resist wanting to understand the reason for his unbalanced personality. 

Ring: …

Silence fell between us once again… until he finally spoke in a voice softer than before. 

Ring: To be honest… I felt happy when you said you wanted to be friends. 

Ring: The only people I have around me are Dari and Nica, so I've always wanted something like a “friend”.

Ring: I want to know more about England, how humans experience emotions, and how they live. 

Ring: And… I’m curious about you too. 

Kate: Eh?

I was surprised to hear that, and Ring gave me a small smile.

Ring: You didn't break even when we were threatening you, and you have a strong heart…

Ring: And your smile — it sparkles. I think you’re an unusual human. 

(For Ring to say something like that to me…)

The words resonated in my eardrums, and my heart started racing. 

But then,... 

Ring: Still, whether we can become friends isn’t something I can decide alone. 

Kate: … Why?

Ring: I have to ask Darius, or else it's definitely a no.

(And here I thought I’m finally getting close…)

At the very next second, his heart drifts out of my reach again.

And at the end of that endless cycle — there was always Darius. 

(Why is Ring so stubbornly obsessed with having Darius decide everything for him…?) 

Ring: … I’ll discuss with Dari about us becoming friends, and give you an answer afterwards. 

Kate: Alright, I understand…

I nodded, and Ring held out to me one of the two flowers the cat had broken. 

Ring: Right. Here, … why don’t you put this in the vase in your room?

Ring: It’s empty today, right? 

Kate: It is. Thank you. 

(... Wait.)

Kate: How did you know I have a vase in my room, and that it’s empty today? 

Ring: Eh!? Oh, uhh, I- I… 

The panic in his response made it obvious. 

Kate: Could it be that you’re the one who’s been putting flowers in it every day…?

Ring: I-It’s not me! I’ve never gone into your room…! 

Ring: It’s improper to enter a lady’s room, so I asked a maid to… 

Kate: Then the bluebells from before… those were from you too, weren't they?

Ring: … Yeah. 

Ring confessed with a resigned nod.

Ring: The day you became Vogel’s Fairytale Keeper, you barely touched your dinner… 

Ring: I just thought that maybe having flowers in your room will lift your spirits. 

(... Ring really does have a kind heart.) 

Kate: Thank you for looking out for me. The flowers you place in my room do bring me peace of mind. 

Kate: By the way… what kind of flower is this? 

I looked down at the vibrant flower he had just given me.

Ring: It’s a Freesia. 

Ring: A botanist from Denmark named it after his close friend, a doctor from Germany. 

Ring: That’s why its meaning in flower language is “friendship”.

Kate: You’re very knowledgeable about plants, aren't you? 

Ring: Yeah. I guess remembering the names of flowers is something I’m good at. 

(If we became friends, maybe I’ll get to know even more of these little things about him.) 

(Borrowing the blessings of this flower… I hope Ring and I can truly be friends.)

I whispered that wish inside my heart, clutching the purple freesia gently to my chest. 

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