#Granted there’s an exception for textbooks

[tracle0]

So uh if you pirate books please just… don’t follow me ?

[gghostwriter]

One Single Thread of Gold

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times Penelope tries to solve a Spencer Reid riddle and the one time she (and the team) meet the reason behind all the changes Trope: Fluff! Just fluff and team banter! w.c: 4.0k a/n: For some reason, my earlier post on this disappeared dunno why. But this is a very self indulgent fic as reader’s background is basically based on the industry I work in. I had a lot of fun writing the team banter and I hope you enjoy it too! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗

The first clue presented itself on a dull Wednesday night as the team, minus Hotch and Rossi, were leaving the bullpen after a full day of pushing papers. Penelope in all of her sunshine and colorful glory was buzzing about these accessories that she once spotted on a storefront window.

“I saw a pair of earrings and a matching necklace that would look so good with that top you bought the other day, JJ. You know, the blue one with those soft sleeves—they would look great with it. It’s tres boho chic.”

JJ smiled, opening her mouth to reply, but Spencer beat her to it.

“Did you know that boho chic was actually a response to political and social movements?”

“Wait, what?” Emily interjected.

He took her disbelief as a sign to continue on. “Yeah, yeah. There’s an article written about it in Vogue—softness and femininity historically appears in moments of political stress and war. Just like in the 70s with the hippie and anti-war movement that defined their style as a generation.”

They all piled into the elevator and turned to face the boy genius like he grew another head. For all they knew, this could be a clone and a very bad one at that. The Spencer Reid that they knew had absolutely no interest in the realms of fashion.

Penelope was the first to break the silence. “Vogue?”

“Kid, what gives? Just the other time, you didn’t know how many shoes a woman owns and now you’re some kind of expert?” Derek asked with both eyebrows raised.

“Did not knowing activate some kind of button that made you want to read about it?” Emily added on, feeling like she was in some kind of TV prank show.

“What?” Spencer licked his lips, nervous with all the attention on him. He felt like he was about to slip something up that he had been keeping to himself for a while now. A hidden precious gem that was you. “I—I like to read.” A believable excuse except his voice went up an octave, giving him away.

The three women shared a look.

“But you read academic textbooks and classic literature,” JJ stated.

Penelope added on. “Not fashion magazines.”

He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “I don’t discriminate when it comes to reading. If it’s interesting—” he shifted his weight one side to another, thinking that the ride down on the elevator seemed to be taking slower than usual. “—I’ll read it.”

Penelope narrowed her eyes. She was no profiler but she could smell a lie from a mile away way. That wasn’t the whole truth. Dr. Spencer Reid was hiding something.

“Okay, see you tomorrow!” he squeaked out as he ran out of the elevator once it hit the lobby.

She turned to the three profilers, stunned with the boy genius’ erratic behavior. “Huh, did anybody else get the feeling that Spencer was hiding something?”

“Maybe, but the kid does read a lot. Maybe he just ran out of books.” Morgan shrugged.

The other two profilers tilted their heads and slowly nodded in agreement. It wasn’t far off on something Spencer would do. He did once pick up a pamphlet in the airport to read as mentioned before to her by Derek, granted it was for a case but still, Penelope couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else.

So when she arrived home that very same night, she propped up her laptop and got to digging. Boy Genius was hiding something big and Little Miss Oracle of Quantico can find anything with her tech skills. She’ll get to the bottom of this mystery, once and for all.

———

Spencer was glad to be coming home to your presence. Having spied the lights still on from the outside of the apartment, he took the steps two at a time, excited to see his 2nd favorite person after his mother—you.

“Spence?” You called out, having heard the mahogany front door open. “Is that you, baby?”

“Hey, love. I missed you,” he deposited his satchel to the nearby sofa and ran to give you a hug.

You burrowed yourself into his arms. All the muscles in your body relaxing as you caught a whiff of his cedar wood perfume—the same scent you’ve gifted to him during the early stages of dating. “I missed you too. How was your day?”

“Better now with you,” his words coming out muffled as he refused to detach himself from the embrace. “Actually, I almost slipped up today.”

You extricated from his arms to give him an inquisitive look. The slight scrunch on your nose and raised brows made his heart flutter. How expressive, free, and trusting you were. It reminded him of your first encounter. How you teasingly asked him if he was a serial killer when he offered you a ride home in the pouring rain and how you easily accepted regardless.

“Yeah? Did any of them catch on?” you probed as you pulled him by his belt loops to the direction of the bedroom.

He laughed, finding your aggression cute. “No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Maybe we should schedule dinner with them sometime,” you coyly suggested as you slowly started to unravel his tie. “I mean, we’ve been together for over a year now and I have moved into your apartment, under the guise of watering your plants while you’re away. Which is a lie, by the way—”

“I have plants!” he protested. His hands divesting you out of his sweater, bringing to view his favorite silk set in deep purple that accentuated your skin and the blush on your cheeks.

“—that I brought over, Spence,” you quipped back. “But don’t worry, I won’t spill how the intelligent FBI agent fooled naive me into moving in with him.”

There was a glint in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine. “Love, I wouldn’t exactly call you naive—” his voice going an octave lower. “—not when you’re looking at me with those tempting eyes of yours.”

Giggling, you leaned in for a kiss, one that he quickly took over. His calloused dominant hand wrapped around the back of your neck, effectively caging you in while his other cradled your cheek—a stark contrast to the other. Kissing Spencer had always felt like a religious experience that you never want to part from.

Reluctantly pulling away, you caught glimpse of his need for you. His hazel eyes now dark as ink, nostrils slightly flared, teeth sinking into his lower lip, and his dominant hand dug into the fleshy nape of your neck. It made you feel desirable, like the goddess that he would call you when he’s on his knees tasting nectar from the source.

The discussion of inviting the team out for dinner was long forgotten. No other words were spoken as you pushed him on the bed—only the cries of his and your name and moans of ‘yes’ echoed well into the night.

***

The second clue was uncovered when Spencer walked into the cold windy bullpen with new black cardigan adorning his lithe body. It was non-descriptive to the untrained eye but for fashion enthusiast Penelope Garcia, she knew what those four white lines on the sleeve meant—luxury label and priced well above their pay grade.

She narrowed her eyes. The Spencer she knew wouldn’t dare spend his salary on anything besides limited first edition books. Something was truly up and she planned to get to the bottom of it as her initial online search turned up nothing.

“Reid, that’s a really nice sweater,” she complimented, throwing in her bait.

He smiled. The thought of who gave it to him warmed his heart. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks Garcia.”

Her sparkly pink kitten heels clacking on the floor as she came closer. “Can I see it?” she innocently asked.

The request threw Spencer off the loop but thought nothing of it as he shrugged and handed it to her—still warm from body temperature.

Her squeals caught the attention of the other profilers filling into the office.

“What is it, baby girl?” Morgan deposited his bag on the table and stationed himself beside her. “It’s Reid’s new sweater. Are you seeing something I’m not seeing?”

Garcia rolled her eyes. This was why females are considered more observant that their sex counterpart. Her chocolate thunder was a profiler but how could he not notice what she was deducing?

“Huh,” Emily surmised. “Based on the fibers, it’s definitely not polyester. Possibly a 100% wool, what do you think, JJ?”

“It says here on the tag—100% virgin wool,” she read out loud. “That makes it very expensive, right Garcia?”

The colorful tech analyst smiled. Her girls could never let her down. “Right you are, girlfriends! But it’s not only that, this—” pointing at the four stripes on the sleeve. “—this is a signature Thom Browne detail. Their prices go up to at least 600 dollars—” they all turned to Reid who seemed clearly agitated. “—now why does our boy wonder have a piece that could buy at most five cute heels?”

With his vast intellect, he couldn’t think of a way to weasel out of this impromptu interrogation. He couldn’t very well say that it was a gift now could he? If he did, that would lead to another hard hitting question ‘from who?’ He raked his hand through his curly hair, taking the same path as yours did just earlier as you gave him a kiss goodbye.

When you gifted him the cardigan from your last New York business trip, he really thought nothing of its material equivalence, besides feeling grateful and loved. It was proof that you paid attention to even the littlest details about him.

“Hey Spence, I got you something,” you looked up at him with sparkling eyes. The first thing you had done when you got home was run into his arms. A simple act that healed his aching heart from missing it’s other half.

You reached into your luggage, enthusiastically pulling out the black clothing wrapped in tissue paper like some magician pulling out a rabbit from a hat. “Here you go!”

“A new sweater!” He exclaimed.

You rocked on your heels, looking bashful as you explained the reasoning behind it. “I noticed you fidgeting when you wore the cardigan JJ gifted you last Christmas, the polyester fibers used on it must have been really itchy so I got you a new one—” your eyes widened at how your explanation could be taken the wrong way. “—not that her gift wasn’t great! No, it was very cute! It’s just—I want you to be comfortable and protected during your cases in cold states. Polyester is a good insulator of heat but wool is still the best.”

He loved how unabashed you rambled about your interests. That was one of the first things he piqued his notice. How you liked to share your knowledge about the fashion industry that you work for but never coming across as stuck up or snobby, you just genuinely wanted to educate anyone who had a wrong perception of the billion dollar commerce. Admittedly, he was one of them but hearing you rave about it’s nitty-gritty details and socio-economic movements changed his mind. It also helped that a beautiful and intelligent woman, such as yourself, was educating him.

He pulled you in for a kiss, stopping all the worries that ran through your head. “I love it. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing at all, baby. I like taking care of you. Just like how you take care of me,” you reasoned. “Plus I got it on sale courtesy of the magazine connections.”

A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie. It was Penelope with an eyebrow raised at the subtle smile that graced his face while he replayed the moment in his head.

“Okay,” Morgan drawled. “What’s got you smiling, Pretty boy?”

“Nothing,” he squeaked out, turning to see Hotch make his way across the office. Spencer hurriedly collected his things and started to move even before their unit chief could call their attention.

“We have a case,” Hotch announced.

The remaining BAU members all looked at each other, silently communicating about Reid’s irregular demeanor, before piling into the conference room for another grueling scene of murder.

“He’s been acting weird,” Garcia rushed out. “Definitely hiding something. What do you think, Em?”

Emily nodded. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“A girl?” JJ guessed.

“Yes, must be a special one for him to keep secret for so long,” Garcia surmised. “Do you think he’ll hate it if I go further digging around to find out who she is?”

“Further?” Emily clarified.

JJ laughed. “Probably, let’s wait for him to volunteer the information. Okay, Garcia?”

She sighed, shoulders drooping, before nodding in agreement.

***

The third clue was quite literally handed to Penelope Garcia on the jet after a case when she accompanied the team.

“Cold Alaska is so not good for my skin,” she grumbled as she rummaged her bottomless bag for her favorite hand cream. “I love going with you all on trips rather than being stuck in my own tech cave but the weather wasn’t it.”

Morgan chuckled. “Aw c’mon baby girl, don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy our time together?”

“You, my sculpted hunk, and the fireplace were the highlight,” Penelope turned to the other female profilers. “My beauties, do any of you have lotion? I think I lost mine.”

Before JJ or Emily could even utter a word, a tube made its way to her lap courtesy of her seat mate, Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Reid, since when do you carry lotion?” Emily inquired.

He shrugged. “Hand cream has it’s benefits besides from moisturizing the skin, it also provides an additional layer of protection. Depending on it’s properties, it can also repair and undo damage.”

The females all shared a look. This was another unexplainable behavior from their resident genius.

“We know that,” JJ stated. “We just thought you didn’t.”

His brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, besides from the fact that you’ve never shown interest about skincare before, isn’t it a stereotype for men not to know? Unless—” Emily slyly smiled and nodded at Garcia to continue.

“Unless you have a girlfriend that we don’t know about,” Garcia bounced on her seat.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Spencer’s eyes widened in alarm. He didn’t realize he was walking into a trap before it was too late. “What makes you say that?”

They laughed.

JJ started. “Besides from you suddenly being knowledgeable in fashion—“

“—or having a pricey sweater you’d never buy for yourself—” Emily added on.

“Or, or—“ Garcia reached out to touch his hand. Which made Spencer react with a high pitched call of her name. “—having a shea butter lotion with rough hands!” She waved the tube up in the air. “Plus, this is half empty. So either it’s not working which I doubt since this is a good brand or you keep this in your bag for a special someone to use!”

Derek chuckled. “Baby girl, you could be a profiler at this point.”

“Oh tell me something I don’t know,” she quipped back. “So Reid, want to tell us the truth?”

He sighed, finding no escape. “Yes, yes I have a girlfriend.”

The girls all shrieked with laughter and their own corresponding questions of who is she? How did you meet? How long has this been going on? What does she do for a living? Is she pretty? Oh I bet she is!

“Looks like that cat is out of the bag,” Rossi nonchalantly stated.

Four sets of eyes turned to look at one of the BAU founders. “Rossi, you knew about this and didn’t tell me?” Garcia gasped, a hand to her chest at the thought of betrayal.

He laughed. “I caught them on a dinner date once and our boy wonder over here—“ nodded in Reid’s direction. “—begged me not to out him yet, said he wanted to be the one to tell the team the news but that was like what, six months ago?”

“Six months ago?” Emily repeated.

“Wait, wait. Hotch, don’t tell me you also knew?” Morgan asked.

The unit chief smiled. “She was added to Reid’s emergency contact last February.”

“February? That’s almost a year ago!” JJ sputtered out.

The tech analyst turned to glare at the youngest member of the BAU. “Reid, you better start spilling all the details or so help me, I will stalk all your digital footprint when we land until I find out who she is, where she lives, and what her deepest darkest secret is.”

“What about hearing it all from her, instead?” He rubbed the back of his neck. The secrecy had gone on for so long and there was no time like the present to introduce his chosen family to his chosen partner—hopefully until the end of time. “She wants to treat you all out for dinner tonight.”

All four nodded vigorously as they watched him pull out his phone and send a quick text to which you readily replied and agreed to.

“My man,” Derek sighed. “Can’t believe you got a girlfriend without me being your wingman.”

“Answer me at least this, is she pretty and does she make you happy?” Garcia asked. No matter how nosey she may be, she only wanted the best for Spencer and if the recent lightness and smiles were all caused by his mystery girlfriend, she already approved.

“The prettiest,” Spencer gushed out. “She’s my own personal sunshine.”

The three girls melted into their seats. Their youngest was all grown up waxing prose over his lover.

“She makes you sappy too,” Derek teased.

***

[EXTRA - When the mystery was uncovered]

Spencer had never felt any more nervous that this moment as he, with the rest of the team minus Hotch and Rossi, wait for your arrival. He sat with his back to the restaurant entrance and his cardigan laying on the empty seat beside him as a reservation mark. His eyes had been going back and forth to his idle phone and to the conversation the team was having.

Morgan noted his state of distress and chuckled. “You okay there, lover boy? She’s still coming right, your mystery girlfriend?”

“Yeah, yeah. She said she was on her way 9 minutes and 24 seconds ago and based on the route and traffic, she should have been here 45 seconds earlier. Just worried that something might have happened.”

Penelope leaned in, picking on her bubblegum pink choice of drink as she did. “You know, if you just told me her name I could have tracked every movement by now and you wouldn’t be sitting here worrying.”

“What—no Garcia, I don’t want her tracked plus she didn’t want you to know everything about her even before meeting her,” his voice going up an octave in your defense.

She shrugged. “I’m just saying. I mean we don’t know a single thing about her—”

“We do know she exists and you’ve been together for almost a year now,” Emily interjected.

“Actually, it’s been more than year—one year and 124 days to be exact.”

“Buttercup, all I’m saying is we don’t even know how she looks—” Garcia gasped, having spotted a passerby on the window and what she was wearing. “Oh my gosh, that maroon coat is to die for and that textured leather bag—I wonder if I could track her down and ask where she got it.”

“Oh she’s pretty,” JJ noted.

Derek smirked. “Baby girl, tell me if you plan to ask her ‘cause I wouldn’t mind asking for her number.”

The tech analyst’s eyes further widened as she noted the attractive woman going inside the restaurant.

“You weren’t kidding about that coat, Garcia, it looks really nice,” JJ appraised.

Emily squinted her eyes, taking note of the garment in question. “It looks high quality, probably vintage and—is she going near us?”

“Oh gods, she is! Act natural, act natural!” Penelope chanted as she repeatedly slapped Derek’s arm.

The stranger stopped behind Spencer. “Hey handsome,” your melodic voice was a siren that called to his every being. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Penelope’s jaw dropped as she took in Derek’s flustered reaction.

“Me?” He pointed at himself, getting picked up in such a public setting was new even for him—the ladies man of the BAU.

You laughed. “Well, you too but I was more of talking to this lover of mine—“ you bent down, kissing your boyfriend’s cheek. “Hey, Spence.”

A series of gasps were heard all around the table.

The youngest stood up and turned to give you a soft kiss on the lips. “Hey, Y/N. I was starting to get worried.”

“I missed the train, sorry I forgot to send an update,” you explained as he helped you into your seat.

Promptly seating back down, he angled his body to yours—all attention on you as if you were the only one in the room. And in a way you were, with how molten his doe eyes stared, alternating between yours and your painted lips that begged to be kissed.

He always felt breathless when you were near. It was as if he found his very own Aphrodite to worship here on earth. Spencer was no believer of fates or destiny but he would pray and light a candle if he needed to, just to keep you his. Your intelligent mind complimenting his, your outgoing personality that draws anyone in, and your face that could launch a thousand ships.

Those eyes that could read the deepest crevices of his fiber of being. Those cheeks that begged to be caressed by his calloused hands. Those soft lips that deserved to be kissed and devoured until you, in turn, were as breathless as he was. He suddenly wished you both were anywhere else but here—specifically in the confines of the apartment where he was free to express his love, devotion, and adoration until you scream his name and beg him to stop. His hand, having found it’s way to your thigh, squeezed the flesh three times—communicating his promise to have your hair laid around you like a halo as you lay under him, bare and writhing with need.

The blonde on the other end of the table cleared her throat, cutting through the tension.

“Okay, Spence,” she smiled. “Mind introducing us to your girlfriend?”

He brought your hand to his lips, leaving a series of sweet kisses on your knuckle. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is the rest of the team. Morgan—“ he gestured to each one. “Emily, JJ, and Garcia.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you!” You exclaimed. “So sorry we’re only meeting now. We wanted to stay in our little bubble for as long as we could plus this handsome FBI agent—” you nudged Spencer’s shoulder. “—wanted to keep me to himself. But where’s Aaron and Dave?”

Emily whispered under her breath. “Aaron? Dave?”

“They had prior commitments, love. They did send their regards and Rossi wants to invite you to the next gathering at his mansion,” Spencer explained.

“Love?” Penelope squeaked out. This was really starting to feel like Twilight zone for the team members.

You nodded. “I’ll definitely plot it on my calendar. Now, I heard you had some questions for me?”

“How’d you two meet?” JJ asked.

“When was the first date?” Emily inquired.

Penelope brought out a pen and paper. “What’s you social security number?”

Derek snorted at that. “Do you have any other siblings?”

Spencer’s eyebrows raised further and further up with each question while your shoulders shook with laughter.

“She has all the time in the world to get to know each of you,” Spencer laid out. “No need to make it sound like an interrogation.” He was wishing to keep you forever, if you’d let him.

You smiled as you caressed his cheek, having caught on to the veiled meaning behind his words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[theforesteldritch]

My mom's going back to university to study to become a therapist and her biopsych textbook is... interesting. It straight up states that XX chromosomes=female and XY=male, no variation or exceptions, forget about the existance of monosomy or trisomy of sex chromosomes I guess let alone AIS, Swyer syndrome or de la chappelle syndrome. Oh but wait it gets worse. It later brings up intersex variations as 'exceptions that prove the rule' of bullshit binary ideas about sex and brings up some case studies, one of which is about a woman with CAIS and then proceeds to invite a debate over if she should be told the truth and that she has CAIS. Im going to fucking rip a wall apart, at least my mom has me as the context to know that that's bullshit, but what about people that just take that at face value? People that want to go on to be psychologists or therapists? They're going to fuck any intersex patients up so bad if they think it's debatable if we should be told the truth about our intersex-ness, and not only that but think its ok to surgically 'treat' us without telling us or giving any semblance of informed consent.

I'm reminded of how I read about how one intersex woman had to break into her doctor's office to steal her medical records, because she knew something was up but even as an adult they refused to tell her. And how intersex people are far more likely to have poor physical and mental health, a good chunk of that probably attributable to the fact that shit like this happens and so we're probably more likely to avoid doctors and mental health professionals and not trust them, for pretty good reason. Some of the things I went through during diagnosis and right after and some of the things they did were traumatic and violating. But at least they fucking told me I have CAIS and gave me a say in my plan for treatment/monitoring when I pushed back. The bar is so low that despite how horrible and traumatic some of that and how I was treated was, to the point where I'm still processing certain things almost 3 years later, by other standards I got incredible care. Because at least they fucking told me. That is the bare fucking minimum. No, that's lower than the minimum, or should be, but we've been mistreated by the medical system so much that telling us we're intersex at all is a step in the direction of progress.

But people, supposedly mental health professionals and doctors, want to debate if we should be granted the basic decency of knowing.

[andreafmn]

Kinktober ⛓️ Day 3

Word Count: 2.5K Paring:  Lip Gallagher x Fem!Reader Prompt @kinktober2023: Hate Sex WARNINGS: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI),  p-in-v sex, foul language, reader is technically underage

Summary: There is no one that (Y/N) despises more than Philip Gallagher, but having his brother as her best friend forces them in close proximity more than they would like. Or maybe they do?

A/N: This is set some time during season 3 so Lip is around 18 and reader would be 17 since she's contemporary with Ian's age, so do with that what you will.

<- Previous

“Yo, Ian,” Lip’s voice rang through the house. “You’re girlfriend’s here!”

“Oh, fuck off, Lip,” (Y/N) said as she bumped past him into the Gallagher home. “I know you wish I was here to see you, but I don’t do charity work on Tuesdays.” 

“Fuck you, (Y/L/N). You’d be lucky if I was the one you were studying with.” 

“Of course, the genius Philip Gallagher that doesn’t even want to go to college,” she snickered, stopping at the rest on the stairs. “I’ll take my chances with my own brain. Thanks.”  

“You’ll regret helping Ian with math,” he called as he walked to the front door. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

With an exasperated scoff, (Y/N) walked up the rest of the stairs, clutching her backpack tighter than she should have. She didn’t understand why she and the older Gallagher son didn’t get along. She had a wonderful relationship with everyone else in the family –even Frank was courteous enough with her– but something never clicked with Lip. Every time they were in close proximity, they would bicker and fight until someone else got in the way. It made it especially difficult when (Y/N) came over to spend time with Ian. 

She would never say she hated Lip. But the sentiment was close enough that others would notice. Between the terrible side-eyes and the snide comments, being around the two could easily become suffocating. Granted, everyone but them knew what was truly happening. They had met their match in each other but were too stubborn to admit it. 

“You ran into Lip, didn’t you?” Ian chuckled as his friend walked into his room. “It’s all over your face.” 

“Unfortunately, I did,” she sighed, plopping down next to him on the floor. “But he seemed to be going somewhere, so I didn’t have to talk to him for much.” 

“Just long enough to make sure you got annoyed. Perfect mood to study Geometry with you.” 

“Fuck you, I’m always a delight.” 

“Sure. Until you spend a second with Lip, and then everything goes to shit.” 

“Shut up, Ian,” she said, rolling her eyes. “If you want me to help you study, you’ll stop talking about your despicable brother, Phillip.” 

Hours passed between textbooks and worksheets, notebooks and loose papers, and somehow the bright afternoon sun had shifted into night. Ian had already gone to bed, tired from a long day of shapes and mathematical equations. Almost everyone in the house had done the same, tucked into bed early, which was a luxury for anyone on the South Side. 

Meanwhile, (Y/N) was still wide awake, taking advantage of the tiredness of the family to use up what was left of the hot water. She could have gone home, to her packed house and probably cold water, but she found comfort staying with the Gallaghers. The family was a melting pot of chaos, there were more fights than a WWE ring, and every single day brought a different kind of adventure. Her house had all of that, except the real warmth of a family. And being there made her feel like she was a part of something. 

The water ran across her skin, soothing the tight muscles that stiffened her body. The smell of soap filled her nose as she lathered herself, and she was glad that the bar seemed new still. They were small luxuries that she was grateful she could partake in every once in a while. And in the quiet of the night, it was almost peaceful.

Until a sound that did not fit into her spa-like scenario filled the air. From behind the curtain, she could hear a strong stream of liquid falling into the toilet. But she knew she had locked the door —not that it would have worked in that house anyway. 

She moved the curtain slightly to reveal Lip standing in front of the toilet. “What the fuck are you doing?” (Y/N) exclaimed, making sure her body was covered. “Can’t you see I’m using the bathroom?” 

“You’re in the shower. Toilet was up for grabs.” 

“Why couldn’t you have gone downstairs?” 

“Because I was already upstairs,” he shrugged, shaking his cock above the toilet as he finished. “Stop gawking, (Y/N). I know it’s impressive, but staring is kind of rude.” 

“Fuck you, Lip. I’ve seen better,” she said, closing the curtain to conceal the way her skin was flushing. “I’ve definitely been with better.” 

“Keep telling yourself that,” he snickered, turning on the sink. “But we both know the guys you’ve fucked are not exactly Adonises.”

“You’re such an asshole, Lip,” she scoffed. “If you’re gonna be here, at least pass me my towel.”

“Why should I? You can just step out.” 

“You’re not seeing me naked, Lip.” 

“It’s only fair,” he chuckled. “You saw mine, I get to see yours.” 

“Stop being a perv, Lip. I’m not one of those chicks you fuck for fun. I actually have standards.” 

“Right, and they’re so high, right?”

“They are.” 

“Is that why you fucked Billy Spencer two months ago or lost your v-card with Jesse Suarez in his car? Yeah, those standards are skyscraping high.” 

In a fit of rage, (Y/N) ripped the curtain open and sauntered out of the tub, getting as close to Lip as possible. “You don’t get to fucking judge my decisions, Philip,” she spat, jabbing her index finger against his chest. “Who I sleep with or don’t sleep with is none of your business. And you sure as hell are one to talk. Your list is not the most pristine, either. Starting with Karen, for example.”

“Don’t you fucking talk about her,” he said through gritted teeth, pushing back on her as she had. “You don’t talk about her.” 

“What? You can dish it out but can’t fucking take it, huh?”

“I can take whatever you fucking throw at me, (Y/N). I ain’t scared of you.” 

“Maybe you should be,” she continued. There was almost no space between them. She had him pressed against the wall, their noses almost touching as they heaved in anger. “There is no one else that can put you in your place like I can, and you know it.” 

“I don’t need you to put me in my place.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’re so fucking infuriating!” 

“Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?” 

Lip’s next move was a surprise to her. She was expecting him to keep yelling or stomp out of the bathroom. Instead, he placed a hand on either side of her face and crashed his lips onto hers. He was all kinds of rough and forceful, clashing teeth and lips together without any care. But somehow, (Y/N) found herself kissing back just as roughly, grabbing onto the lapel of his jacket. 

But it wasn’t until she felt the roughness of his hands on the skin of her back that she realized she had jumped out of the shower, naked and still dripping with water. She jumped away from Lip as though his touch was fire and scrambled for her towel, trying her best to cover her body from him.

“Why are you covering yourself now?” he laughed. “I already saw everything, (Y/N).”

“Fuck you, Philip.”

“I was gonna let you,” he grinned. “But it looks like you got performance anxiety. Maybe you’re not as good as guys say.” 

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but I’m great in bed,” she argued. “But I would rather do it with someone I actually like.”

“It’s just sex, (Y/N),” he countered. “This is not to fall in love.” 

(Y/N) kept quiet for a beat, thinking over the boy’s request. His reputation for being a good lay preceded him, and she would have been lying if she said she had never thought about it. But the fact that his personality was almost revolting made her wonder if it was worth it. 

“God, you’re so fucking infuriating,” she said before doing the same thing he had done. “This means nothing. You’re just convenient.”

“Right,” he chuckled against her mouth. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Oh, shut up already.” 

“Make me.” 

Her lips did all the answering, molding to his mouth perfectly, their tongues dancing together in perfect symphony. If she had believed in fate and the alignment of the universe, she would have deluded herself into thinking that they were meant to be. 

Lip’s clothes were rough against her unclothed skin, the zippers and the fabrics scratching at her body and rubbing the most sensitive parts of her body that were exposed. Warmth pooled between her legs with the kiss alone, and her body’s reaction scared her. It was almost instantaneous, and it had been the first time it had happened. 

“It’s not fair that I’m the only one that’s naked,” she said breathlessly.

“Do you ever stop fucking talking?” 

“Not when my mouth’s unoccupied,” she snickered. “And I have a lot to say.”  

“You’re too fucking much,” he grumbled as he took off layer after layer of clothing, letting them fall to the floor. “Now come here.”

He kissed her roughly again, pressing his chest as close to her body as he could, his hands snaking to the small of her back. As their mouth moved in synch, they walked backward until her back was pressed against the wall, the coldness making her skin erupt in goosebumps. But his hands were enough to build a fire inside her. The way they mapped every inch of her body and worked in tandem with his mouth to find her most sensitive spots. 

Lip nipped at her jaw and her neck, traveling down to her collarbone as his hands tweaked the hardened peaks of her breasts. Somehow, he was able to annoy her within an inch of raging ire and could bring her to the brink of orgasm with just his mouth and hands. 

In a swift move, Lip turned (Y/N), bending her against the wall as he pulled the zipper of his pants down. The clothes pooled at his ankles as he held his cock and lined himself up with her wetness, running the head across her fold and teasing her clit. 

“For someone that is just doing this out of convenience, you’re really wet,” he chuckled darkly. “Have you been dreaming about this?” 

“I could ask the same of you, Philip,” she retorted. “Because for someone that doesn’t really care, you’re really fucking hard.” 

“I’m only just a man, (Y/N).” 

“How about you shut up and prove it already, then? Maybe…” 

(Y/N)’s words died in her throat as she felt him sink into her completely, stretching her walls like no one had done before. He took the air out of her lungs, a moan getting strangled in her throat at the suddenness. 

Lip didn’t move instantly, allowing her body to get used to the size. At least, that was what he would have said if she had asked. Truthfully, being inside her was the most overwhelming experience he had ever had. He needed a moment to compose himself before he busted too early. The last thing he needed was for (Y/N) to have more ammo against him. He enjoyed their bickering reparté, but he had quite the reputation when it came to sex, and he wouldn’t let her ruin it. Even if his body was trying to betray him. 

Once he felt he could control himself, he started moving hips, quickly setting a pace that had (Y/N) letting out a string of moans that he wanted to listen to for the rest of his life. Her hands gripped the towel bar before her, her knuckles turning white from the tightness. She met his every move, pushing against him as he pummeled into her. 

“Harder,” she meweled. “Fuck me harder, Philip.” 

Lip did exactly as told. Skin met skin at a rapid pace, filling the otherwise quiet room with pants, moans, and slaps. Even her using his full name did not put a damper on his mood, rather loved the way it sounded in her mouth. And for the first time, it didn’t sound like she was saying it with  hate. At least, not completely. 

He snaked his hand around her body, his hand finding the mound of her clit and pressing two fingers on it. They circled and rolled the bud, making her walls clench around him as he pistoned into her. He knew both of them were reaching their end. The tightening of her cunt and the tightening of his balls told him enough.

“Fuck, don’t stop, Lip. Don’t you dare fucking stop.” 

“I wasn’t planning to.” 

And he didn’t. He kept thrusting until (Y/N) let out a pleasurable yell that had him covering her mouth. As he did, she bit down on his skin unconsciously, making him moan and awakening something in him he didn’t know was dormant. It brought him right to the brink of his end, and it took everything in him to leave her warmth and explode all over her ass. 

His body slumped over hers, absentmindedly kissing the skin of her shoulder as they both came down from their orgasm. They felt comfortable in their silence, their pants synching and their bodies melting against each other. If they could have, they would have fallen asleep in that very position. 

But a knock on the door startled them apart.

“Yo, I need the bathroom,” Carl called from the other side of the door. “I’ve gotta piss real bad.” 

“Can you go downstairs, Carl?” (Y/N) asked. “I’m just finishing up in the shower.” 

“Ugh, fine! Just hurry up. There’s more people in this house, you know?” 

“Yeah, sorry!” 

After wiping themselves down, Lip and (Y/N) started getting dressed, neither meeting each other’s gaze. “We don’t speak about this to anyone,” she finally said. “Especially not Ian. And this can’t happen ever again.” 

“Sure,” he mumbled. “Whatever you say.” 

“I’m serious, Philip,” she pleaded, placing a hand on his chest to get his attention. “If Ian finds out, I’ll never hear the end of it.” 

“I won’t say anything,” he laughed, looking at her in a way he never had before. “But I wouldn’t mind if this happened again.” 

“Are you serious?” 

“What? The rumors are true. You are a good lay.” 

“You’re not too bad yourself, Mr. Gallagher,” she grinned before stopping at the door to exit first. “But I don’t think this will happen again.” 

“Keep telling yourself that, (Y/N).” 

“Fuck off, Philip,” she whispered from the end of the hall before disappearing into the boys’ bedroom, leaving Lip to think of just how he could make this a repeat situation.

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[momotonescreaming]

Part One | Part Two

Jeff felt like he was the only one who actually tried to do some study during his free period. Granted, this was mostly because he didn’t share his free period with anyone, but hey. He’s still counting it. It felt easier than studying at home — no mom to knock on his door every few minutes to ask him something, no annoying younger brothers. Just annoying students constantly getting shushed for talking too loud in the library. At least they listened when the librarian scolded them, unlike a pair of certain younger brothers.

So every day he could, he claimed the same table off to the side of the library, spread out his books, and tried to get some work done. Work on an essay, do some math sheets, sneak in some DnD research when he had the time (and wasn’t worried about the other teens trying to vandalise his papers). It meant he had more time at home to do things he actually liked. DnD. Guitar. Watch some TV.

It was calm, it was routine. No one else sat at his table, and it was better that way. No one wanted to hang out with one of the freaks. It was better when the cliques of Hawkins High didn’t interact. It was also easier said than done. A voice clears — light, high, and almost tentative. Right next to his table. Jeff looks up and sees the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

Chrissy Cunningham.

His heart skips a beat, butterflies flutter in his stomach, every single lovesick cliché. Jeff felt them all. Feelings swirling in his stomach like honey. Sticky sweet and coating all of his insides. It was inescapable. Unavoidable.

She was cute, and he could swear he could smell her floral perfume and strawberry shampoo. Chrissy was that close and it was a silly little thing he had dreamed about. Being that close to the head cheerleader, his unattainable crush.

Her hair was tied up in a lilac scrunchie, ponytail perfectly curled, with matching lilac eyeshadow. He was close enough that he could notice these things, could see how the colour matched the purple tint in her ruffled plaid skirt.

Jeff smiled at her, almost unconsciously, trying not to seem too much like a freak. Just another normal guy. He didn’t want to scare her off. He listened to Eddie rant about conformity all day, but smiling at a pretty girl to make her more comfortable doesn’t seem so bad.

“Hi, um,” Chrissy starts, clutching a stack of books to her chest. There’s a subtle flush to her cheeks, rosy red, and Jeff can’t quite tell if it’s makeup or if it’s just her flustered over him. She continues before he can start over thinking about whether it’s a good flush or not. Does he make her nervous. “Can I sit here? Everywhere else is taken.”

Jeff looks over, and finds that Chrissy’s right. All the other tables are full, students littering the tables with books and papers with no room for anyone else. All tables, except his. It’s sort of telling, that the only table free is his, and no one else's, but he’s trying not to think about it too hard. Not when it’s led Chrissy to him, cutely and shyly asking if she can sit.

“Of course,” he replies, a little hurried, maybe a little too desperate sounding. He bites back a wince, and moves some of his textbooks out of her way. “Totally.”

And she smiles, something soft and small, just for him — as she thanks him and slides into one of the seats opposite. He smiles back, heart fluttering within the confines of his ribcage. Looking back down at the notes he’s been working on for his English essay, it suddenly doesn’t seem a appealing. Not in the way that it normally does. The words blur into one another, drift across the page, as Jeff tries to keep his gaze firm on the page and not sneaking upwards to glance at Chrissy.

At her perfectly coordinated outfit, preppy and cute, without looking too frumpy. At the way her bangs frame her face, highlighting her cheeks, her shining eyes. At the subtle gloss on her lips, tinted a faint pink. Jeff wonders what it tastes like. What it would feel like against his lips. Is it cherry flavoured, or strawberry — to match her hair. Would it be sticky as their lips meet? A thread of lip gloss and saliva stringing between them as they pull apart.

Shaking his head, willing that particular train of thought to leave his head, he closes his English notes and pulls out the math sheets that Mr Mundy gave them this morning. Grips his pencil tight and tries not to think about how Chrissy is right there. He can hear her organise her books, unzip her bag and take out her things. The scratch of pen on paper. The flip of the pages turning.

It’s sort of soothing, the soft sounds of Chrissy working, a nice noise overlaying the background noises of the library. And not just because it’s her. It’s nicer than the other teens whispering and giggling about being told off by the librarian, it’s better than the annoyances he gets at home. The subtle noise of someone working in tandem with him. It’s nice. Just keeping him company. Even if Chrissy just wanted an empty table, and not him specifically.

Jeff tries to concentrate, and works on his math sheets. Tries to speed through them without totally beefing it. Math isn’t his favourite subject — that would be English Lit, funnily enough —  but he’s not totally terrible at math. DnD has admittedly, helped. Which was part of the reason his parents let him continue with it (the other part, of course, being that he enjoyed it).

So he thinks of DnD, and of math, and tries to focus on Mr Mundy’s worksheet. Except it doesn’t go all that well, because of course it doesn’t. He’ll work through a problem, sneak a glance at Chrissy, at the matching purple shade she’s painted her nails, and look back at the worksheet only to find he’s worked through the problem all wrong. Sighing, Jeff erases what he’s done, and looks at the equation.

“Excuse me, um,” Chrissy starts quietly, whispering as to not invoke the ire of the already stressed librarian. “Do you have a spare pen, mine’s ran out of ink.”

Jeff looks up, throat hitching, lungs holding air as he locks eyes with Chrissy. Clear blue, deep and inviting and looking at him. He tries to hold himself back, to try not to smile like a loon, and he’s not sure if he’s successful or not.

“It’s Jeff,” he starts, clearing his throat, before digging through his pencil case for a pen he can spare. “And sure. Hope blue’s okay. I know O’Donnell can be a real stickler about black pens only.”

"Blue’s fine,” Chrissy giggles. Fucking giggles. Pressing a hand lightly to her mouth, her soft lips — the other reaching out for the pen Jeff retrieved. “It’s not for O’Donnell.”

“No worries then,” he replies, automatically holding his breath as Chrissy takes the pen, her fingertips brushing against the skin of his hand. Her skin is soft, moisturised, and feels like silk against his. What would it be like, Jeff wonders — retracting his hand, not letting himself linger — if she were to hold his hand. Not just a mere brush of fingertips. Would she entangle their fingers, clutching tight? Would she link their pinkies, swinging their arms in between them as they walked? Would she hold his hand over the table, where everyone could see, so they could work and stay connected at the same time?

“Thank you,” She says, shaking him out of it, uncapping the pen. She jolts a little, eyes widening. “Oh! I’m Chrissy by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jeff replies, smiling and tilting his head at her. He can feel all his insides melting inside him, conjoining into one horrible feelings-filled blob settling in his stomach. Clawing up his ribs, growing likes vines. It was everywhere, it was growing, no amount of smothering was going to kill this crush anytime soon. Not when Chrissy was there, looking the way she did, smiling at him so sweetly. Being kind to him.

—

At the end of their free period they went their separate ways, shaken out of their quiet camaraderie by the ringing of the bell. She had smiled at thanked him as she left, face flushed and ponytail swinging behind her.

Jeff felt like he was going to melt into a puddle, but he still, tragically, had class to go to. So he quickly packed up his things and headed to his next class. He shared it with Frank, which was nice as they actually got to sit next to one another. But the guy was scarily perceptive, and Jeff kind of wanted to keep that moment to himself for a little bit. Wrap it up in tape and hold it close, tucked into his chest. Just him, and Chrissy, and the way that she smiled at him.

But if Jeff knew Frank (and he did), he’d read Jeff like a book. Hopefully he could read him enough that he knew Jeff wanted it unsaid, just for the moment. Not counting Eddie, of course. He was his best friend, and he got it, with his insufferable crush on Steve Harrington.

He’d tell Frank eventually, of course he would, but not now. Definitely not on school grounds, while everyone was still there. If a cheerleader or god forbid — one of the basketball jocks — heard Jeff say he had a crush on the head cheerleader? He’d throw himself into the deep end of lovers lake, never to be seen again.

So he sighs, and enters his next class, hitches his bag further up his shoulder and heads towards his assigned desk. Frank arrives shortly after, messenger bag slung on one shoulder and they lock eyes. He tries to keep it casual light, but he’s sure he sees something on his face. See the like and love and ooey gooey feelings seeping out of his pores.

“Did Kaminsky quiz you again?” Jeff asks, hoping to draw the attention away from his traitorous heart. Frank immediately groans in exasperation, tilting his head to the ceiling, and Jeff just laughs. A wash of relief rushing over his tangled emotions.

—

School dragged on, as it always did at the end of the day, and all Jeff wanted to do was go home and lock himself in his room. Maybe wallow in his emotions for a bit, let them settle, and learn some love song on the guitar. Use it to work through his feelings. Sort through them like puzzle pieces. Pick them up one by one, and carefully slot them into place.  There’s gotta be some good metal ones he can learn.

Jeff lets his mind drift, thinking of songs, and of guitars, and of learning a song just for Chrissy. Lets the class wash over him, absently writing down notes, entirely without thinking about it. He should care about this stuff, should want to take notes, should want to pass. But all of a sudden it really doesn’t seem like it matters. Not when Chrissy sat with him, had talked to him, had borrowed his pen. She forgot to give it back in the end, in the rush of the bell, but Jeff didn’t mind. Not when his crush now had something of his.

Ripping his gaze back towards the blackboard, towards the teacher, he lets the subconscious smile he was sporting drop from his face. Drifting his way through the end of class until finally, finally, the end of day bell rings and he’s free. Packing up his things as fast as he can, absently chatting with Frank as they exit class along with the flood of students.

It’s not Friday, so there’s no Hellfire. There’s no Corroded Coffin practice, he doesn’t have to drive his brothers across town to soccer, or some other lesson they’ve been begging their parents to go to. He just needs to get them, go home, and then he’s free to lock his bedroom door and melt into the carpet.

“You need a ride?” Jeff asks Frank, furrowing his brow as he turns towards his friend. The pair of them slowly walking to the student car park.

“Nah,” Frank replies, hitching his bag further onto his shoulder. “My mom’s picking me up so she can take us shopping for my dad’s birthday. Thanks though.”

“All good man,” Jeff replies, and he can’t help but be quietly relieved. That he doesn’t have to make more small talk, that he won’t politely have to invite Frank in to hang out (because he would, of course he would). That he can leave the school day behind, go home and spend some time alone. He needs it, every now and then, to centre himself. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Frank claps him on the shoulder as he says goodbye, before heading over to the pick up zone. Jeff sighs, lets all the air out of his lungs, before going to wait by his car.

It used to be his dads — an old white ford —  but passed onto Jeff when he upgraded on the condition that he help them drive his brothers around. Jeff had agreed, was desperate for his own car — just little bit more freedom — but he was not a fan of being asked to cart his brothers around like a chauffeur.

So at the end of school Jeff would loiter next to his car until bis brother Vincent came over from the middle school, before driving through the truly terrible pick up line at Hawkins Elementary for Kenneth. It wasn’t that bad, usually. If Vincent didn’t take his sweet time chatting to his friends and being annoying. Making Jeff late. Because of course he did.

He had some time, is what he was saying. Absently scans the parking lot, seeing if there’s anyone he knows, anyone interesting he can people watch. If Chrissy is out here somewhere.

Does she take the bus? Does she walk? Is she staying late for cheer practice? Does she drive, or get a ride from someone else? Her mom, her best friend, Jason. Does he walk her to his car after school, does he hold her books or open the door for her? Does he drive her home with his hand resting on her thigh?

Would she let Jeff do those things. Smiling at him out of the corner of her eyes, giggling when he turns to look at her too. Would she hold his hand over the gear-stick, letting her hand be moved along with his?

“Why are you smiling like that?” Vincent says, entirely too close to Jeff for his liking, making him jolt in place — just slightly. “Weirdo.”

Jeff frowns, looking down at his younger brother to find him giving him a look. Jeff knows that look, he’s seen it on his shithead brother’s face entirely too often. He’s thinking he knows something, is jumping to conclusions, is being a know it all. And if his brothers start talking about how he’s lovesick, has a crush, a girlfriend — it’s all over. He won’t hear the end of it. So he deflects.

“Nothing you need to worry about Vinnie,” Jeff replies, ruffling his brothers hair — because he knows he hates it. “Grown up stuff.”

“You’re not a grown up!” Vincent exclaims indignantly, just as predicted, as they both get into Jeff’s unlocked car. It’s all too easy. A good distraction. “You’re still in high school!”

“I’m closer than you, squirt,” Jeff retorts easily, buckling his seatbelt and starting the engine. Drives off to the sounds of his brothers ranting, and thoughts of Chrissy.

Tag List@goosesister @scarlet-malfoy @mavernanche @manda-panda-monium @yoriposts @grtwdsmwhr

Part Four | Part Five

[a-stitch-in-time-and-space]

kai winn is one of the most tragic characters in star trek canon. shaped by occupation, by violence, and by the fates decreed by literal god-like beings that know and affect the future, and always trying to honour the rights of these gods without ever being given direction from them, while others who haven't suffered for them or at times people who don't even really believe in them are granted visions and support. she's guided by what she has before her, and she's steadfast about honouring her ideals right up until the the final straw breaks her back, and it takes a long time for that straw to land. and even that turning is apparently beyond her control, fated to have happened the whole time. she was never in control of her destiny and her destiny was never to honour her gods like she desperately wanted to

textbook shakespearian classic tragedy. you perform the exact role that you are meant to perform and you're lauded for it, except for perhaps those naysayers who don't understand or who weren't worthy of the status they have to begin with by all accounts of the rules that have always applied until now, until suddenly (or so gradually that you didn't notice the change) that role becomes something villainous, and then you shun the people who abandoned you first. it was always going to end this way. she was never going to be okay. she was never going to get answers. the narrative is the prophets and the prophets were always bringing her right here. the betrayal of it all.

[sreyaya]

Seeing the Infernal Sin fic was just *chef's kiss*

I know you don't write much for Fool's Gold but I have a prompt thanks to that short fic hefnnfnd

Can I request Infernal Sin with him going soft to that one human that summoned him for his services, at first it was purely transactional but he slowly falls in love with the reader and soft seggs with a dorky confession ensues.

I can't handle the dark fics of him man I need soft fluffy smut (also is it okay if it's GN?)

A Mere Wish-making Demon?

Modern AU | InfernalSin!Fool's Gold x Gn!Reader NSFW

Content Warnings: 1.3K words, Soft!FG, light smut, MDNI

(A/n: a tad bit rushed out, i'm still figuring out how to write for FG jajaja, sorry to disappoint sir)

smut under the cut!

It wasn't that long ago when you were struggling with classes. Feeling left behind, everyone seemed to be improving much more than you ever would. It would be a miracle if you could catch up to anyone, and it infuriated you. It was one of those studious night, your head buried under books, you felt overwhelmed. Slowly but surely, you tackled the stacks of notes, exhaustion weighing you down.

Until you discovered a book you hadn't seen before, leather cover, straps along the spine, pages torn and worn. It barely looked like any of the material you were supposed to memorize for tomorrow. You wanted to brush it off, but something alluring about the book caught you off guard and that was when you caught yourself opening each page of the book. You began reading what's left of the book, reciting unearthly symbols and writings, muttering one line under your breath. Until suddenly, an unknown being appeared. His face was covered in a sultry mask, his grin wide and eerie.

"Norton, Norton Campbell, at your service," he said nonchalantly. His demeanor was unsettling, with demon horns setting off all your alarms yet you didn't move or run. "Ah, a brave human, I see. Very interesting indeed," he scoffed. Gold embellishments decorated his bodice attractively. "So, what are you?" you asked firmly, wanting to get it over with and continue studying. "I'm a demon, sweetheart, I can grant you anything you'd ever like" he said, a mocking chime in his tone.

"Anything, huh?" you questioned, disbelief evident in your words. He placed his jagged hands on his waist, which emitted a dim red glow, an eerie smile following before nodding slightly, "Anything." You thought of all possible wishes before asking, "Are there any... limits?" Norton chuckled. "What a greedy little human you are. I'll make an exception for you, darling. I'll grant all your wishes until I'm bored of you." His flame grew brighter, riled up and curious about you.

You were a little taken aback from his response, feeling cautious but what more can you lose from this? "Fine. Help me get a perfect score for tomorrow's exam," you said, doubt laced in your words. "Consider it done," he answered confidently. And to your surprise, when the test results were released, you indeed, scored perfectly. With a small 'congrats!' note from your professor on the top corner of your paper. Joy filled your eyes as you told Norton back in your dorm room. He only grinned, his hand resting on his chin as he stared at you. "Thanks, Norton, you practically saved my life!" you chimed happily, content after a few bad grades.

Days turned into weeks, and you found yourself turning to Norton more often. Each wish you made, from acing exams to finding lost items, was granted with a snap of his fingers. Norton became not just a strange demon, but an intriguing companion.

One evening, as you were poring over yet another textbook, Norton appeared without being summoned. "Ah, look at you," he said, leaning casually against your desk. "All work and no play makes a dull human." You chuckled in response, glancing up at him, setting your pen down before taking a light stretch. "I have to keep up. Can't let those perfect scores slip, can I?" Norton smirked, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling yet captivating light. "What if I told you there’s more to life than perfect scores?"

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What do you mean?" He straightened, his expression shifting to something almost genuine. "Come with me," he said, extending a hand. "Let’s take a break. I promise it’ll be worth your while." Hesitant but curious, you took his calloused hand. In an instant, the room around you vanished, replaced by a breathtaking view of a starlit sky over a calm lake. The air was cool and refreshing, the silence comforting.

“Where are we?” you asked, awe-struck. “Just a little pocket of my world,” Norton replied softly. “A place where time stands still and worries fade away.” You sat by the water's edge, feeling an unexpected sense of peace. Norton sat beside you, closer than ever before. As the stars reflected off the calm surface of the lake, you found yourself drawn to Norton in a way you hadn’t expected. His sharp yet bold features, the glint in his hollow eyes, even the eerie grin on his face had become familiar, almost comforting.

“Norton,” you began, feeling a flutter in your chest, “why did you help me?” He looked at you, his expression unreadable through his covered face. “You intrigue me,” he said simply. “Humans are boring, and you're interesting. I enjoy your company.” You felt a blush rise to your cheeks. “I guess, I enjoy yours too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart raced, your thoughts a whirl of emotions. Before you could respond, Norton gently cupped your face, his touch warm from his everlasting flames. Your eyes met, and in that moment, everything else faded away. Without a second thought, you leaned in, closing the distance between you. The kiss was soft against his rough lips, a blend of your world and his, and when you finally pulled away, breathless, you saw that eerie grin had softened into a genuine smile.

"Can you grant me one wish?" Norton asked. You could only nod, his calloused hands still cupping your face. "I want you, my treasure. I want all of you" he boldly declared. You were taken aback, his bold wish catching you off guard. You thought about it, your face flushed lightly. The small train of thoughts all ended as you answered with a quick 'yes' as he grabbed your frame in his arms, bringing you back to your dorm.

He towered above you, your hands cupping his face, pulling him closer for another deep kiss. It didn't take long before you were taking all of him in, slowly. He was inhuman, of course, and he understood that. Norton took his time, waiting for you to adjust to his size. "Slowly, treasure, it's okay. You're doing so well," he murmured, his length easing inside you. "Tell me if anything hurts, 'kay?" he said, his voice filled with concern. You nodded in response. "You're beautiful. I love you," Norton grunted as he filled you completely, his length finally fully inside you.

With the amount of time he spent in his lonely world, your warmth was all he needed to fill his empty spirit. Years upon years of granting favors to people, trying to find something worth living for, and your embrace made it all worthwhile. Norton moved inside you, his pace slow and loving, every thrust filled with his love and feelings that developed throughout months of being with you. Your moans filled the room, mixing well with his deep growls of pleasure. The bond between you grew stronger with every movement, every whispered word of affection as you clung to him.

When you both reached the climax, the world around you seemed to blur, reality blending with the surreal. In that moment, you knew that you were no longer just a curious human and a lonely demon, you were lovers. As you lay in each other's arms, the aftermath of your passion still lingering in your skin, Norton whispered, "I love you. Always and forever." You looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his feelings mirrored even in his hollow gaze . "I love you too, Norton. Always and forever."

Norton finally felt a peace he had longed and looked for after for so long. Your warm embrace soothed his trembling state, wrapping him in a sense of security he had never gotten before. The touch of your skin, the rhythm of your heartbeat, and the gentle warmth of your presence made him realize that perhaps he wasn't just a mere wish-making demon after all.

[soracities]

THAT EARTHWORM ANALOGY WAS RIDICULOUS PLZ SEND SOME MORE MY WAY, I HAVE TO STUDY!!!!!!!!

NO SINGLE CREATURE ON THIS EARTH EXISTS IN ANY TEMPORAL CONTEXT EXCEPT THAT OF PERPETUAL BECOMING. THE EARTHWORM OF YESTERDAY IS AS DEAD AS THE EARTHWORM OF TWO MINUTES AGO WHO IS AS DEAD AS THE EARTHWORM OF TOMORROW ALL THAT EXISTS IS THE WORM'S CONSCIOUS DECISION TO MOVE THROUGH ITS ALLOTTED SPACE THE ONLY WRIGGLY WAY IT KNOWS HOW AND IN THAT SINGLE MOVEMENT A SHAPE IS GRANTED TO THIS HAPHAZARD THING WE CALL LIFE THERE IS NO YESTERDAY THERE IS NO TOMORROW THERE IS ONLY RIGHT NOW AND IN THAT LIES YOUR ULTIMATE FREEDOM & SALVATION ANON TOMORROW DOES NOT MATTER TOMORROW IS AS DEAD AS THE PAST AND SO IS EVERYTHING YOU FEAR LOOMING AHEAD OF YOU FOR YOU MUST ONLY ACCOUNT FOR THIS MOMENT ANON THIS MOMENT AND NOTHING ELSE AND FOR THE EARTHWORM THAT IS A WIGGLE AND FOR YOU IT IS READING THAT SENTENCE IN YOUR TEXTBOOK YOU ARE AVOIDING CARPE DIEM THIS BITCH I BELIEVE IN YOU AND SO DO THE WORMS 6 OR SO FEET BELOW YOU OKAY BYE

[kewrnage]

hoodlum next door spoils me rotten.

synopsis. headcanon with jason who has a neighbor with quite the messy place.

꒰ pairing ꒱ — jason todd x gender neutral! reader.

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff. reader is lazy but improves overtime. this version of jason is the closest to batman : wayne family adventures.

── Jason has learned that his neighbor is leaving and that the vacant flat next to him will be inhabited by someone else. Jason was unable to enjoy himself and have fun because of the prior neighbor's haughty attitude. As a result, the neighbor decided to silently leave the neighboring unit without saying anything.

── Jason, who was used to the freedom of living in Wayne Manor, pondered about how his life could change by interacting with his new neighbor. This new acquaintance could potentially provide an exciting break from the monotony.

── As he made his way to the entrance of his apartment, he glanced at the neighboring unit, curious about the identity of his new neighbor. To his delight, he spotted you transporting crates into the adjoining apartment. A smile crept onto his face as he found you incredibly adorable, yet also displaying a sense of seriousness in your vacant expression, which perfectly contrasted his mischievous nature.

── Jason attempted to gain entry by knocking, but you did not respond. Consequently, he resorted to turning the doorknob, granting him access to your apartment. He expressed surprise by raising an eyebrow, as he observed the untidy state of your flat, particularly the disorderly arrangement of your textbooks. Meanwhile, you were comfortably seated on the couch, engrossed in a class presentation on your laptop. Surprisingly, the only well-organized item in the room was the trashcan.

── Jason Todd, the neighbor who resided nearby, possessed a devious allure that you were unbothered by, even when he started making your already disorganized shelf even more chaotic.

── Despite this, you showed no concern as he continued to mess up your belongings; some of your picture frames were even hanging on the wall at odd angles. He particularly took notice of the disorder in your room, where the bedsheets and blankets were nothing but crumpled messes. The chaos that you lived in frustrated him, and he couldn't resist criticizing you for it.

── You brushed it off at first because you were used to it, especially since no one tried to motivate you anyhow. As a result, he resolved to do the opposite. The next day, he returned to your flat, and he spent his day off from crime-fighting by first assisting you in organizing your living area.

── One of his tactics involves advising you on what actions to take. Occasionally, he can be severe in order to elicit a negative reaction from you, hoping it will prompt self-reflection and growth. Alternatively, he may simply want to observe your displeasure. He assists with various household chores, such as washing dishes and cleaning smudged windows.

── When it comes to cooking, he initially taught you and the dish you prepared was close to being burnt, which disappointed him as evidenced by his sigh.

── He assisted you in enhancing your organizing skills over the course of several months, and you gradually became adept at it, except for cooking. Whenever he would go out to fight crime, you would resort to purchasing instant noodles or any ready-made meal for dinner, which you would then bring home as takeout because he wasn't present to cook for you.

── As you slowly improve, he becomes increasingly proud of you every day. He has observed your efforts to the fullest and it brings him joy. Every now and then, he spoils you with his somewhat above-average cooking, and you express your appreciation by becoming affectionate towards him. Whenever he prepares a meal for you, you embrace him from behind, which never fails to make his heart beat faster and cause a smirk that you cannot see.

── Both of you desired the best outcome for one another. Despite occasional procrastination, you possess a level of understanding and wisdom that catches him by surprise. Therefore, when he faces a moral dilemma, he seeks your guidance without hesitation.

── Over time, the bond between you two grew into something deeper. You hug him from behind while he prepares meals for the two of you, and he takes solace in your presence by opening your window after his crime-fighting tasks at night, cherishing the warmth of your embrace and caressing your faces with gentle kisses. As he becomes accustomed to this connection, your desire for each other only intensifies.

── He'd be willing and glad to explore this newfound feelings with you. He continues to spoil you with his somewhat above-average cooking and his mischievous antics you're trying to discern. However, you'll be there for each other in every step of the way.

── Bonus ; Jason would often bring Artemis and Bizarro to your flat, his Outlaws team to your flat because your brother, who is married to an East Asian household, generously offers you a large amount of food almost every month. Your brother's deliveries usually include ramen, sweets, and chocolates in cute wrapping, as well as wonderfully wrapped crisps.

[melancholy-of-nadia]

love u lately (m) #6 | myg/knj/pjm

title: love u lately​ chapter title: #6 - introspection pairing: yoongi x f. reader, namjoon x f. reader, jimin x f. reader (yoonminjoon x f. reader) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; college/university au , pseudo frat! bts; best friends! yoonminjoon friends to lovers; summary: the end of the fall semester leaves you overwhelmed and overstimulated: final exams, presentations, and now, your friends with benefits deal with yoongi AND jimin. when you head back to your hometown for the holidays, you can't seem to stop thinking about your feelings towards your best friends and how you're going to approach this challenge in the new year. and apparently, you're not the only one going through this. warnings:  smut, spicy time in the library study room, fingering, final exam presentation because this is a college AU, toys... not for kids, y/n past relationship mentions, swearing, NAMJOON POV, more angst because they're confused college kids, y/n being in her head a lot and reflecting, very small timeskips for plot note: everyone say thank you to @daegudrama for editing this chapter! total word count: 9.6k drop date: January 9th, 2024, 12:30PM PST cross posted on AO3 here ← #5 | Series Masterlist | #7

The deal is sealed with a kiss on November 16, 20XX, an unexpected turn in your relationship with Yoongi and Jimin. As the 0309x1013 group chat was created, signaling the beginning of this uncharted journey, everyone agreed to take things slow, fully aware of the potential risks involved.

With Thanksgiving approaching, the university granted a break for the following week. Instead of heading home, you all decide to have a Friendsgiving together at the house, creating a memorable celebration. The backyard is transformed into a makeshift KBBQ haven, complete with the tantalizing aroma of grilled meats wafting through the air. In an unexpected fusion of cultures, you and Jungkook insist on having pumpkin pie for dessert.

This alternative celebration with friends spares you from the potential awkwardness of interrogations from your relatives about college life and romance. And there is no way in hell you can ever bring up your friends with benefits deal to them. You will be branded as the weird and psychotic child in the family. They may as well burn you at stake.

With more time on your hands, the week break lets you seize moments of solitude with Yoongi and Jimin, stolen kisses and playful slaps on the ass becoming commonplace. Jimin seems to enjoy the latter more, and in a surprising turn of events, Yoongi decides to adopt that habit too.

As schedules align for once, you all indulge in a Friday Night Game Night. The living room transforms for Cards Against Humanity, with soju bottles and beer adding to the spirited atmosphere. Namjoon, however, appears a bit distant, engrossed in his phone. A pang of guilt flutters in your chest, realizing he remains the only best friend unaware of the recent developments. Before you can think too deeply about it, the raucous laughter of the others brings you back to the game.

+++++++++

November 29th [THURSDAY]

The subsequent week marks dead week, a period of intense preparation for impending exams. Your focus turns to Finance, Stats, and Psych, subjects you can’t afford to fail. You were already struggling a bit a few weeks ago as you didn’t do well on your Finance midterm. So you need to get your shit together. Determined to get your academic affairs in order, you book a study room in the library, reaching out to the BTS group chat for potential study buddies. Everyone seems occupied elsewhere, except Yoongi.

Amid the hushed atmosphere of the study room, Yoongi arrives and sits next to you, bearing the weight of textbooks from his Psych classes and the impending stress of exams. The initial exchange of nods and silent acknowledgments is replaced by the persistent rustling of papers and whispering discussions on complex subjects.

As the study session progresses, the tension in the room seems to escalate. Yoongi, sensing the collective stress coming from you reading a question over and over, decides it's time for a much-needed break.

Yoongi lets out a sigh, pushing his chair back slightly. "I need a break, Angel." he admits, rubbing his temples as if trying to physically massage the stress away.

You nod in agreement, closing your textbook with a thud. "Yeah, we should take a break. I think my brain needs a reset."

Yoongi leans in, his voice low and suggestive, "Should we do something to relieve stress?"

Your eyebrows raise in curiosity. "Uh, what do you have in mind?"

You’re going to regret asking this.

A sly smile plays on Yoongi's lips as he brings up a topic that has been lingering unaddressed, "You know, you never really got your punishment for spending time with Jimin. I think it's high time we settle that."

“W-What do you mean?”

Yoongi places his hand on your knee under the table, slowly moving it and placing it in your inner thigh, nearing your heat. You gasp quietly, surprised and excited by his boldness.

“I’ll show you,” he says, looking down at you. You really decided to wear a skirt on the worst day.

You swallow hard, a lump forming in your throat. You're not sure if you're ready for this, but your body betrays you, betraying your nervousness and hesitance. He doesn't say anything else, just looks at you expectantly, waiting for your response.

Finally, you nod, the words coming out in a whispery breath, "Okay, b-but we're in a study room…what if someone sees?!"

Yoongi chuckles, "The door and windows outside this room are frosted glass, they will see people in here but won't know what they're doing." He moves his hand under your skirt, slides your panties off to the side and starts circling your bud.

His fingers dance back and forth, sending shivers down your spine. You moan softly, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through your body. He then reaches down and gently pushes one finger inside you, stretching you open. The sensation is incredible, and you can't help but arch your back, begging for more. It’s been too long without the fullness of his fingers inside you.

His digits move inside faster, and you try to cover your mouth before getting louder, fearing people outside will know what you're doing. It's almost like you can hear their whispers, taste your own fear that someone might catch you. But, Yoongi's eyes are locked onto you, and he knows exactly what he's doing. He leans in and kisses you, his tongue darting out to taste you, his lips demanding more than just a taste. Your body is on fire now, your heart races, and your breath hitches at every touch, every thrust. He pulls you close, his body pressing against yours, and you can't help but grind against his hands, seeking more of him.

It's then that you lose yourself, your body convulsing and trembling under his touch. Yoongi lets out an intense groan, in reaction to her squirming delight from his digits reaching the right spots.

You collapse back onto the chair, panting and sweating. Yoongi pulls your panties back in place and he opens your text book, reading the question .

“Mary has obtained a $10,000 loan to buy a used car. She is considering 12, 24, and 48-month loans, all of which carry an annual interest rate of 6%. Which of the following statements is true?” Yoongi reads, glancing at you for an answer.

“I hate you so much.” You scoff, covering your flushed face. You can’t believe he really went from fingering you and back to studying, well, helping you study now like it’s nothing. “And the answer is ‘A longer loan period means she will pay more total interest’!”

Yoongi's low chuckle ripples through the room, a mixture of amusement and a hint of satisfaction. He leans back, a playful glint in his eyes as he takes in your blushing and slightly disheveled appearance. The aftermath of a brief interlude from studying seems to have lightened the mood, and he can't help but revel in his revenge move.

"Post-nut clarity does wonders, doesn't it, angel?" he teases, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The humor in his tone lingers, adds an extra layer of playfulness to the moment. "Glad I could assist."

“Please, shut up!”

Yoongi's low chuckle fills the room again as he leans back in his chair, still basking in the aftermath of the unconventional study break. "You know, I'm just trying to make sure you remember the material. Practical application, right?"

Rolling your eyes, you reach for your water bottle, taking a long sip to cool down the lingering warmth on your face. "Practical application, my ass. You just wanted an excuse to finally get back at me.”

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" He smirks, closing the textbook with a decisive snap. "Now, back to studying for your Finance final."

“You’re unbelievable, Min Yoongi.” You groan dramatically, but you can't deny that maybe this helped you destress.

+++++++++++++++

DECEMBER 4TH [TUESDAY]

The week swiftly transitions into finals, marked by a cascade of exams and the pressure building up for the impending challenges. The first two days witness you navigating through three exams, managing to hold your own despite the weight of academic stress.

Amidst the stress, Jin's birthday slipped your mind. The oversight dawns on you during the marketing group project presentation run-through. The team, a makeshift family made during this semester, surprises Jin with a chocolate lunchbox cake adorned with a Mario frosting doodle. Thank God someone else remembered. The makeshift Mario-themed cake adds a touch of joy to the moment, catching Jin off guard.

"Hyejin, I really thought that box was just extra food from the dining hall." Jin chuckles as he is about to take a bite of the cake. Hwasa playfully kicks him in the butt, laughter echoing in the room. Amid the small birthday celebration, the impending final marketing presentation remains a looming challenge.

The team urges you to lead the presentation, praising your storytelling skills that you tend to downplay. Jimin and Jin offer words of encouragement, reassuring you that your ability to make things work out will shine through once again. As you contemplate the final tomorrow, you hope things will go well. For now, the celebratory atmosphere provides a momentary reprieve before the final academic hurdle of the semester.

+++++++++++++++

DECEMBER 5TH [WEDNESDAY]

The following day arrives, and you find yourself standing in the seminar classroom, ready to deliver your In-N-Out marketing presentation. Unlike the typical lecture hall, the business school's seminar classrooms mimic real-world business meetings, focusing attention on the speaker.

Dressed in a crisp white collared blouse paired with a sleek black pencil skirt, you exude professionalism. The subtle hum of the pantyhose beneath your attire and the comfort of loafers complete the polished look, projecting confidence and sophistication as you prepare to engage your audience. The rest of your team members are dressed in similar fashion, with black slacks and white collared shirts. Jimin, Jin, and Matthew sport black ties as well.

You begin the presentation with a captivating introduction: "Ladies and gentlemen, today, we're delving into the world of In-N-Out – not just a fast-food chain, but a West Coast staple and a testament to effective marketing. Let's talk about why people don't just eat at In-N-Out; they love it, and we're about to uncover the secrets behind their success."

As you, Hwasa, Matthew, Jin and Jimin weave through the details of In-N-Out's marketing strategy, emphasizing its family-oriented approach and the cult-like following it has garnered, the room becomes animated with engaged reactions from your peers. The dialogue is punctuated with anecdotes about the brand's iconic status, creating an atmosphere of hunger and nostalgia.

The end of your presentation is met with applause and excitement. To add to the celebration, Matthew surprises the class with several boxes of In-N-Out animal style fries. That was his idea to entice the audience and the judge, Professor Kim. The gesture not only elevates the experience but also earns cheers from your hungry classmates, turning the presentation into a shared moment of enjoyment. Even your professor can't help but express pride in the engaging and delicious conclusion to your marketing showcase.

As the final comes to an end, your team members shower you with congratulations for delivering an exceptional presentation, with special praise for your captivating introduction and conclusion. Professor Kim approaches your team, a smile on her face, to deliver the good news. She informs you that you all received an A on the final project. Although she hasn't graded the paper portion yet, the impressive effort you put into the project leads her to believe it's bound to be another automatic A.

Walking back home with Jimin, you think about how the success of the presentation and the positive feedback from your professor lifts your spirits.

“Honey, I actually ended up getting you something for working hard throughout the semester on this project. Consider it an early christmas gift too?” Jimin speaks as his hand is shuffling inside his pocket to find the keys to the front door.

Jimin got you a present? You thought it was a little odd, but not completely unlike him to do something like that. He’s always been kind, and while his love language is clearly physical touch, gift giving ties with words of affirmation as a second.

“A gift? You shouldn’t have, Jiminie. Like, really!” You insisted your best friend, walking in once he opens the door.

“It’s nothing! It’s up in my room. I’ll come right over to your room once i grab it.”

You nod, heading upstairs to your room right next to Jimin’s. You don’t know why, but when someone suddenly says they get you something, you can’t help but feel a little nervous. What could he have possibly gotten that he insists on giving it to you before Christmas. Maybe it’s food? There is a bakery off campus that has special made-to-order seasonal pies. You remember going with Jimin and Taehyung to get a pumpkin cream pie there last year, but you were too busy this semester to have time to order one.

Well…

You’re not too far from that guess. Actually you were very far off from any potential thought of what this man could have gifted you, but when Jimin enters your room holding a relatively small black box, you know for a fact that this is not food.

“Here,” Jimin hands you the box, which feels slightly heavy. “Open it.”

Jimin’s eyes and lips turn into crescent moons as he sits on the bed next to you. Oh this can’t be good. You give him a weird glance before going ahead and opening the black box.

What you find in there, makes you yelp and you drop the box which causes the object in it to plop out onto the floor.

“Jimin, what the fuck!”

Suppressing his giggles, Jimin maintains a hushed tone to avoid drawing attention to the two of you in your room. You hope to God that no one else is in this house right now, but given what has happened previously, there’s always one other person somewhere.

"You got me a sex toy… Why would you buy this?!" you whisper with a blend of surprise and agitation, not quite sure what to make of the unexpected gift. You never expected Jimin to get you something like this. And if this were any other situation, you’d probably laugh, but all you can do is look at Jimin with a mortified expression.

Jimin, unable to suppress his laughter any longer, bursts into a fit of giggles. He quickly places a hand over his mouth, attempting to stifle the noise. You, on the other hand, are still grappling with the absurdity of the situation as you stare at the rose-shaped adult toy lying innocently on the floor.

"I thought you could use a little stress relief," Jimin finally manages to say between laughs. "And we did talk about experimentation before, so I wanted to try this on you. I kept seeing people talk online about it so i wanna use it on you."

His words make your face blush red rapidly. You pick up the toy, and now closely examining it to see that it is indeed one of those rose-shaped clit sucking sex toys that have been trending online, however this one comes attached to a vibrating dildo at the bottom of the rose.

You can’t believe he got you a fucking vibrating clit sucking toy and dildo.

This isn’t a pumpkin cream pie you were hoping for, but this could be involved in other cream pies.

And he’s right. You were keen on the idea of experimenting new things involving sex, and while other things like bdsm crossed your mind first, using sex toys wasn’t really a thought at all. You hadn’t done too much with the two men, but you’ve been pretty satisfied giving or receiving oral or an occasional quickie.

“Hey, hey, darling. I thought we could try it, but if you’re not comfortable with this, we don’t have to do it.” he speaks up before you can speak out your own thoughts. But you really don’t know what else to say besides ‘what the fuck’. You’re so shocked that you can’t even react or talk properly.

“We? You want us to try this?” you ask slowly, looking back at your best friend that gives you a short nod. He wants to try this himself?! Or did he mean use it on you?

“I mean you can try it when you’re alone, it’s totally up to you.”

“What? No! ” you shake your head.

“I just want to help make you feel good. You’re already doing so much being with Yoongi hyung and I. Sex with you feels so amazing, and I don’t know if you feel the same, so I thought this would help emphasize those feelings.”

Sex with Jimin feels so liberating, so sensual. It is definitely a contrast from fucking Yoongi, which makes you feel secure and comfort. Fuck, Y/N. If you’re doing this deal to figure out your feelings, it’s not going to be easy. You care about both of them equally. You can’t fathom being without either of them in your life.

“Is this something you want to try?” you ask him curiously, and you see him relax when he notices your interest and that you’re no longer overthinking his present.

“If you want to,” he answers seriously, which causes you to glare at him. “We can just try the roses’ function to start and then the dildo depending how you feel?”

The thought of him using this toy piques your curiosity and brings a tinge of excitement. It's new territory for you. You've only been with a total of 4 people in your life. And you’ve never had the balls to buy something like this, not even when you wanted to pleasure yourself. Your fingers could do only so little inside you and flicking the bean, that you often ended up more frustrated with no orgasm.

“Okay, let’s try it.” You walk towards your door, locking it, and turning back to sit on your bed. “Also, when did you even buy this?”

Jimin chuckles, taking your hand as he laces his fingers with your own. “I had passed a sex shop the other day I went out to buy something else. So I got it, hid it in my room, and waited. It wasn’t easy.” he answers, watching you as you grab the vibrator again with your free hand and examine the object.

“With this much functionality, it looks expensive?”

“Oh trust me, it was. I got it in pastel pink because it’s cute just like your pussy.” He pouts, making you reflexively hit him in the arm. “I’d get anything for you, my love.”

Oh fuck, your heart is beating fast.

“Jimin, you joke a lot, but don’t say stuff like that.” You murmur, avoiding his eyes while looking at the sex toy.

“But why not? It’s true!” He tells you honestly, placing a kiss on your cheek, making you sigh at the feeling.

But what’s true? That he genuinely means you’re his love or that he’ll get you anything?

Things like this mess with your head. It makes you think things like him actually being in love with you is a possibility. But he wouldn’t fall for you. You know how Jimin has always been. Hopping from one person to another. You’re not entirely sure what feelings he has to sort out for him to be involved in this deal, but maybe the casual sex with his best friend is a temporary bliss for him to indulge in pleasure. But there is a part of you that does think otherwise.

The way he carries himself when he’s around you is much different than how he is with other girls, even previously with Irene. He’s truly himself, constantly showering you with love and physical affection even when others are looking, making you wish he could freely kiss you and fuck you senselessly. You wonder if he realizes this contrast as well. Though for him, these actions might just come natural when he’s around you. He has known you for almost a decade. Other people really don’t bat an eye at that like at the halloween party. And when you return that energy back at him, what does that really say about how you feel about Jimin?

Is this love?

Maybe the excessive release of sex hormones are getting to your head. You should just focus on indulging in the pleasure and go all out while you’re still in college. It’ll probably end sooner or later. As it should. Maybe Jimin and Yoongi should find someone else that isn’t as indecisive as you.

“Let’s try it.” you speak up, slowly handing out the toy to Jimin as his eyes widen in shock.

“Right now? Really? You looked kinda scared earlier.” he asks, eyes filled with worry but also a hidden excitement behind them.

“I did look scared, didn’t I?,” You laugh, “But I want to try this. Gotta live it up while I still can.” You assure him, giving him a slight smile he returns.

Giving you a little nod, he leans in next to you, reaching your lips for a kiss. He gives a few pecks to them, before he stands up and hovers over you. Reaching for his white collared shirt and clutching it in a fist, you pull him towards you which surprises him and causes him to stumble back.

He pins you down with his darkened eyes meanwhile a satisfied grin appears on his plump lips as your back meets the mattress. When his lips press against your jaw, neck and slowly move at the top of your blouse-covered breasts, you feel yourself arching from the bed in a desperate need to feel him more and closer. While his lips are preoccupied with your exposed skin that is available to his mouth, Jimin’s hands are too busy gripping your hips, ass.

He leans down, pulling off your pantyhose, your pencil skirt, and then your white lace panties. The sight of your bare pussy never ceases to amaze him.

“You looked hot in your professional business lady outfit, but I like seeing you without anything on.”

You giggle at his silly remark. Typical horny college student.

He presses the rose toy against your sensitive clit, and you shiver at the contact. He turns it on, the first setting of soft vibrations already sending shocks of pleasure coursing through your body.

Your breath starts to quicken as Jimin presses on to modes of vibrations, intensifying the feeling inside you. You close your eyes, feeling light-headed from the pleasure and anticipation. Meanwhile, Jimin's free hand continue to roam, exploring every inch of your body. He somehow manages to unbutton your white blouse with one hand and then pushes up your lilac floral bra to get a view of your breasts. He massages them gently, pinching your nipples up between his fingers.

As the vibrations reach a higher pitch, you can feel your body becoming more and more aroused. You’re worried that it sounds too loud, but before you can ponder it more, you moan softly, unable to resist the pleasure that's building inside you.

“F-Fuck…”

Jimin grins wickedly, his eyes never leaving your flushed face. "Feeling good, Y/N?"

You nod, unable to form words. Your body is now a mass of need, every muscle tensing and releasing in waves of pleasure.

With that, the vibration gets more intense and faster, your clit throbbing almost painfully while Jimin starts rubbing the rose at your most sensitive spot. This feeling is different – you’ve never felt this kind of pleasure before. You suddenly understand Jimin's eagerness to try something new and trying sex toys was something you never thought you'd experience. He’s truthful to his words, wanting to help you feel pleasure through different ways.

The new pleasant feeling makes your whole body shiver, or maybe it’s Jimin's dark lustful eyes hovering over with dark hair falling onto his face, or it’s a simple combination of both that takes you over the edge before you can even realize it. With another rub and skilful twist of his wrist, you’re instantly cumming undone just from the set of vibration. Legs shakingly in the air from the intensity, liquid squirting out which you never thought your body could do.

Holy shit.

Jimin rides you through it, slowing down the vibration until he fully turns it off when you're left breathless.

"How was it?" he smirks, watching your chest rise and fall as you catch your breath, waiting for you to glance back at him. “I can’t believe that made you squirt, has that ever happened to you before?”

"You're fucking crazy…” The residual tingles linger, and a sly grin crosses your face as you appreciate the Jimin’s spontaneity. “I’ve never actually squirted in my life so I guess it was that good then?”

“Really? Never?” Jimin asks, feeling prideful for being the first one to get you to squirt. “God, I wish I could brag about this.”

“Yeah, but would you please help me clean up because we yet again ruined another set of sheets.” You giggle as you get up from the wet spot, feeling cold, sticky and in need of a shower. Jimin, already an experienced cleaner, goes to grab extra bedding from your closet.

You somehow manage to survive the semester. Barely.

+++++++++++++++++++

December 8th [SATURDAY]

On Saturday, the whole house is buzzing with activity as everyone packs their luggage or duffle bags to head back home for the holidays after finals. Since all of you are from the same hometown, you've decided to carpool in the only two vehicles you have available: Jin's car, carrying Taehyung, Jungkook, and Hoseok, and Jimin's car, with you, Namjoon, and Yoongi.

As Jimin pulls up to your street, a sense of nostalgia washes over you. The familiar houses, the tree-lined streets, and the cozy neighborhood covered in Christmas decor evoke nostalgic memories. At the end of the cul-de-sac, are two houses where you and Namjoon live. Jimin and Yoongi drop you both off, bidding you goodbye for the time being.

“You won’t get rid off us for long,” Yoongi chuckles as he moves to sit on the front passenger seat, which you previously sat on. You get car sick if you’re in the back.

“Yeah, you two will see us around! Probably one more than the other.” Jimin winks at you, knowing that these words are definitely targeted at you. Namjoon has no idea of the meaning behind the words. Though you don’t know if you end up having any rendezvous with them during the break. Too risky.

“Okay, okay! You two better get home before your moms decide to call me worried about your whereabouts.” You shoo them away. “Don’t forget to text me about whatever you decide to do during break.”

“We will,” Yoongi waves to the both of you as Jimin turns the car around the cul-de-sac to leave, Namjoon and you watch as Jimin's car drives away until it disappears around the corner. The air is crisp, and the quietness of the suburban streets contrasts with the bustling holiday season. Namjoon turns to look at you, with a smile, “Well I’ll be sure to come over one of these days to hang out and send my greetings to your parents.”

You giggle at his politeness, “I know you just want to come over and eat the Christmas treats my mom is going to whip up, so yes, you’re to come over Joonie.”

The two of you share a slightly awkward silence before Namjoon breaks it with a warm hug. There's something about him embracing you in public that leaves you feeling flustered. This isn’t the first time that it has happened, but you can't help but notice the subtle reddening of your cheeks. As he pulls away, you hope he doesn't catch on, but he seems more focused on grabbing his luggage from the ground. With a quick "bye," he leaves you standing there, slightly dumbfounded.

What was that?

You shake your head, deciding to give yourself more time to think about it once you’re settled back in your room.

You approach your front door and knock. The familiar scent of home envelops you as your sister swings it open, excitement evident in her words as she wraps you in a tight hug. Stepping aside, she ushers you into the house. Your parents are at work, and won't be back until evening. Despite the months that have passed since you were last home, returning after a college break always feels a bit strange. The absence of the usual ruckus created by the other guys intensifies the void of loneliness.

In your room, you sit and stare at your phone, mindlessly scrolling through TikToks and other apps for hours. Eventually, you decide to lock your phone and gaze up at the ceiling, contemplating the different atmosphere and reflection of the fall semester in the quiet surroundings of your family home.

This is too much alone time to overthink.

It's also the first moment of peace you've had. It suddenly hits you — you're entangled with two out of your three best friends. It feels insane, and a month into this arrangement, your emotions remain tangled and unsorted. What the fuck are you going to do? There’s no game plan to this and it kind of scares you. There's also a particular aspect you've been avoiding, a name that lingers in your conscience: Namjoon.

You do feel guilt over doing this behind Namjoon's back. And a part of you hurts doing this too. It doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t deserve that either.

Now with Jimin joining this thing that you have with Yoongi, you wonder if Namjoon would be willing to do that too. You're aware that he's no longer with Jihyo, but whether he's involved with someone else, you're uncertain. The image of him on his phone during the card game flashes in your mind, but amid the chaos, you've been preoccupied with managing your own emotions and keeping everything under wraps.

No. Namjoon, the most logic-driven member in your quad and whole Beta Tau Sigma house would never. That’s like crazy. What kind of sane person is friends with benefits with three people at the same time? You can barely handle two people, let alone three. And as you had already thought before, what will the end result be? You only end up with one of them. And what about the other two?

Things would be easier if you could all be in a polyamorous relationship.

That’s only a dream though. No way that could happen when society is still iffy when it comes to sam sex relationships.

But not having Namjoon in the mix feels like you can’t properly settle things.

You don’t think Namjoon has those types of feelings or thoughts of you because he’s known you the longest. He's been there from the beginning, witnessing your growth and sharing a bond that transcends mere friendship. Family. In his eyes, you're more like a little sister, a connection resembling the one he has with his actual sibling, Kyeongmin, navigating her freshman year at a different college.

Your phone pinged unexpectedly, prompting you to check the 0309x1013 group chat.

Yoongi [4:21 PM]: Can we change the gc name to something else?

You decide to reply.

You [4:21 PM]: All of a sudden?

Yoongi [4:22 PM]: It’s too sus.

Yoongi [4:22 PM]: My brother was getting ideas when he saw my phone light up.

Yoongi [4:22 PM]: He said he saw a dating scandal break out with a group chat named with dates in Korea.

Jimin [4:23 PM]: LMAO

Jimin [4:23 PM]: I got an idea for a new name just now.

[[Jimin changed the GC name to ‘The Sanctuary’]]

Yoongi [4:25 PM]: The Sanctuary?

Jimin [4:26 PM]: It’s a SONG I really like right now.

Jimin [4:26 PM]: I think this name fits the purpose of this gc really well.

You [4:27 PM]: I like it c;

You [4:27 PM]: You guys are my sanctuary c:

Yoongi [4:29 PM]: …

Jimin [4:30 PM]: LOL not hyung being flustered. Jimin [4:30 PM]: this is too funny!! i never see him like this Yoongi [4:32 PM]: Aye....

Yoongi [4:32 PM]: She needs to stop..

Yoongi [4:32 PM]: you're being too cute honey! >:3

You find it adorable when Yoongi gets flustered, which doesn’t happen too often. You’re glad you have these two around, as close as you could possibly have them all to yourself. Is this selfish? Well isn't that what love is about? To be a bit selfish in wanting those you care about close to you? Shaking off those contemplative thoughts, you focus on the playful banter within the group chat.

++++++++++

December 10th [Monday]

On Monday morning, a text from Kyeongmin brightens your day. The invitation to join their family for some homemade kimchi is too tempting to resist. You slip out of your pajamas, opting for flared jeans and a cozy turtleneck, then head next door.

Kyeongmin greets you with a warm hug, exclaiming, "Unnie! It's been a while! How have you been?" She gestures for you to come inside, and you gladly accept.

"I've been good! It's been an eventful semester, to say the least," you reply. As you step in, Namjoon's mom, Mrs. Kim, peeks out from the kitchen.

"Namjoon hasn't been giving you a hard time, has he?" she teases. You smile at her, appreciating the familiarity of the Kim family home.

"Hi, Mrs. Kim! At the start, I would say he was, but he's been good. How are you doing?" you ask, approaching her.

"I'm doing good, sweetheart. I'm glad Joonie has been a good sport," she replies. Mrs. Kim hands you chopsticks with a piece of kimchi, urging you to eat. You gladly oblige, savoring the familiar taste.

"Thank you! Luckily, Yoongi and Seokjin were in charge of cooking, so we were able to eat well," you share.

"Is Oppa still a terrible cook?" Kyeongmin snickers as she chewed a mouthful of food.

"Haha, actually, he's been improving, thanks to Yoongi. He can make really good carbonara now," you giggle as you praise Namjoon, who coincidentally enters the dining room and takes a seat.

"Oh, Y/N, you're here!" he exclaims in a sleepy voice. Dressed in a black tank top and grey sweatpants, he seems to have just woken up.

"Did you really just wake up?" you tease.

"Yeah, because I was resting. The whole point of the break, Honey,"

"I like to be more productive with my breaks, Joonie," you smirk, earning an eye roll from Namjoon.

Mrs. Kim ushers you to join Namjoon at the table, setting up an array of banchan in front of both of you before placing bowls of Doenjang-jjigae as well.

"So, what's the move for today?" you ask.

"I had plans to go meet up with someone," Namjoon replies.

"Someone?" you inquire.

"Was it that girl you were on the phone with last night?" Kyeongmin adds, and Namjoon chokes on his kimchi.

"Kyeong!"

You can't help but wonder if your suspicions about Namjoon seeing someone are accurate.

"What? There's no reason for you to be hiding that from Y/N. She's your best friend, after all," Kyeongmin remarks. Her words strike a chord in your heart.

"I'm not seeing anyone, Kyeong. Y/N would be the first to know if I was, right, Y/N?" Namjoon looks at you.

You hum, "Mm, I don't know, Namjoon. You didn't tell me about you and Jihyo until October." Namjoon’s eyes widen at the mention of his technically ex-girlfriend in front of his sister. His mom is too occupied looking for something in the pantry to hear.

"Oh my God, you had a girlfriend?!" Kyeongmin gasps.

"Well…" Namjoon clears his throat, "We ended things before we made it official."

"Why?" Kyeongmin looks at both of you, hoping for an explanation.

"It's complicated," he vaguely replies, and the topic is dropped. The room falls into a brief silence as you all continue to eat.

"Y/N, are you seeing someone?" Mrs. Kim asks as she enters the dining room with more kimchi.

"N-No," you stammer, catching Namjoon's eyes. "I've been focused on my studies too much to look for love."

"Oh, you're such a studious girl," she praises, patting your back. "I was thinking of setting you up with my friend's son. His name is Lee Dongmin. He goes to a lovely private university down south. You'd love him!"

"Mom," Namjoon warns, a certain look in his eyes.

Trying to lighten the situation, you giggle, "Thank you, Mrs. Kim. I'll think about it and let you know."

After finishing your meal, washing the dishes, and bidding farewell to the Kim family, you return home. As Mrs. Kim closes the door, Namjoon heads back to his room, avoiding eye contact.

"I see you still get jealous," his mom observes, aware of the feelings Namjoon harbors for you.

He shakes his head, "I don't think it would be a good idea."

"Why do you say that?"

"I just know that Yoongi and Jimin probably feel the same way. Maybe even more guys at school feel the same way too. I don't know how I compare to them," he admits, leaving his mother sighing in the living room over her son's reluctance to express his feelings.

++++++++++++++++

December 12th [Wednesday]

It's around noon on December 12th, a Wednesday, when Namjoon decides to surprise you with an unannounced visit. He has a habit of dropping by unexpectedly, assuming you wouldn't have any weekday plans during winter break. However, today, he's in for a surprise himself.

Expecting to find you in your usual winter break attire – Christmas green and blue plaid pajama pants and a band t-shirt – he's taken aback. Your eyes light up at the sight of him, clearly not anticipating his presence. Namjoon sneaks a glance at your outfit, a grey roll neck knit sweater dress paired with thigh-high black felt boots. He quickly shifts his gaze back to your face, hoping you didn't catch him checking you out. Are you actually dressed to go out?

"O-Oh hey, Joon! What's up?" you greet him.

"Hey, uh, I came over to hang out with you, but I see you have plans?"

"Oh, um," you look down at your well-put-together outfit, a bit embarrassed he caught you dressed up, "I had plans to hang out with Yoongi, actually, but something came up, so now I'm dressed up to be at home."

Yoongi? Fuck. His mind briefly flits to bad thoughts of you two together, but he quickly dismisses it. We're all friends here. Yoongi wouldn't do that. Still, his insecurities have been getting the better of him lately.

"Yoongi?" Namjoon sounds more surprised than he intended.

"Yeah, we were going to go out shopping for Christmas gifts," you explain. Namjoon mentally sighs in relief. "But his mom is dragging him to help with some church fundraising event selling soondae soup."

Namjoon makes a mental note to thank Mrs. Min silently. This unexpected turn of events gives him the chance to hang out with you alone for the first time in forever.

"So what I'm hearing is that you're free?" he teases, leaning against the doorway and looking at you.

"Depends," you pucker your lips in thought, "What did you have in mind?"

Namjoon knows you're mostly a homebody, except for those spontaneous bursts of energy. He treads carefully with his suggestion, aware that one wrong move could lead you to decline his invitation. But there's one thing he's pretty sure you won't refuse.

"Want to get boba?"

"Boba?!" Bingo. Your eyes widen with excitement. "Is it from the place I'm thinking of?"

“Tea-cha!” You both exclaim in unison. Tea-cha is a familiar spot, closely located to the neighborhood where you both reside. It holds sentimental value, being the place you both frequented after school back in your high school. The boba might not be that great, but he knows the pure nostalgia makes you crave it whenever you're back home.

"Just like old times," Namjoon remarks, gazing deeply into your eyes. A dark, coffee like color that glistens stars made up of tiny sugar crystals. Always mesmerizing, he thinks to himself.

"Okay, but I'll drive!" you offer, grabbing the keys and your bag hanging on the hooks next to your door. "I can't believe you still don't have your license after all this time." You laugh, but he's always been apprehensive about the prospect of getting into an accident. With all his friends driving, he hasn't felt the urgent need to obtain a license.

"Shut up, tiny. I'll get it someday."

+++++++++++++++

You navigate your trusty black sedan while Namjoon occupies the passenger seat, engrossed in scrolling through his phone to peruse the menu.

Arriving at Tea-cha, he takes the initiative to place your order: strawberry green tea with honey boba, 25% sweetness, and light ice. He beams with pride about knowing your preferred drink, and you can't help but giggle at his enthusiasm. For himself, he opts for a roasted oolong milk tea with honey boba. As you reach for your card to settle the bill, he swiftly taps his own card on the machine.

Already using up gas and driving, covering the boba tab is the least he could do.

After securing your boba drinks, you decide to take a trip down memory lane and drive to your old high school.

Sitting in the empty student parking lot, Namjoon cues up his favorite playlist, guided by your impeccable taste in music. "Ride" by HYBS fills the car, creating a nostalgic atmosphere as you sip your drinks and gaze out at the familiar football field. The landscape around is serene, with birds gliding by and the leafless trees standing against the winter chill.

As the soft melodies of the playlist envelop the car, your conversation with Namjoon takes on a myriad of trivial topics. From discussing the latest quirky memes circulating on the internet to reminiscing about the absurdities of his high school years, the range of subjects is as diverse as your friendship.

At one point, you find yourselves debating the merits of various fast-food items, playfully arguing over the supremacy of McDonald's fries versus Burger King's onion rings. Namjoon can't help but chuckle at your passionate defense.

The conversation then shifts to your shared love for classic literature, with Namjoon excitedly recommending a new novel he recently discovered. You, in turn, share your fascination with a contemporary author you had just discovered during your break. Namjoon made a mental note to get you a book by them for Christmas.

The triviality of the topics is what makes these moments special to him, like exchanging anecdotes about your friends or laughing about the virginity race from high school.

You asked, curiosity evident in your eyes, "Speaking of people, who did you end up seeing on Monday?"

The question catches Namjoon off guard. He wasn’t trying to hide who he was going to go see, but also didn’t want to give you the wrong idea.

"Oh, uh, I met up with Soyoon," he carefully admits, the words carrying a sharp feeling as he voice them out.

"Soyoon? As in my coworker and friend, Hwang Soyoon?"

"Yeah," he responds, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. A fleeting thought crossed his mind— maybe that wasn’t a good idea. He mentally curses Kyeongmin for bringing it up on Monday and you hearing it.

"Shit," he mutters internally, realizing that this could imply that he likes Soyoon. He fidgeted, contemplating the consequences of his openness.

"Ah, didn't know she was your type," you remark casually, resuming the rhythmic sip of your drink. There it is. The one thing he knew you’d jump to conclude.

"I said I'm not seeing anyone," he protests, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "We're just talking." He tries to steer the conversation away from misconceptions, emphasizing his purely platonic interactions with Soyoon.

You, however, narrow your eyes, a gesture that did not escape Namjoon's notice. "About ART! She’s helping me with something." he clarifies.

"Okay, Joonie, whatever you say," you respond, your tone carrying a subtle playfulness.

The conversation takes an unforeseen turn when Namjoon, succumbing to an unspoken frustration, poses a question he instantly regrets.

"What about you? Dressing up all cute to hang out with Yoongi?" The words slipped out, revealing an undercurrent of bitterness at the perceived shift in your priorities.

A sharp pang lingers within him. You've been spending more time with Yoongi and Jimin, which is starting to create a growing distance visible in his eyes.

He still remembers when Yoongi called him out back at Jimin’s birthday for not knowing your favorite drink. He still remembers when he saw you dancing giddily across the room with Jimin at Matthew’s halloween party. He still remembers hearing you, Yoongi, and Jimin laughing and talking from inside your room before he went up to call you over to the living room. He feels like an outsider these days, observing you in the light as he stands in the darkness, feeling pathetic and alone.

"It’s just Yoongi, Namjoon," you sigh, your feet shifting nervously, "Why are you always so overprotective of me?"

Because I don’t want to lose you to someone else.

Because I am actually in love with you?

And the thought of you being with someone else pisses me the fuck off.

Those are phrases running through Namjoon’s mind as he struggles with this dilemma, but doesn’t have the guts to say to you or anyone for that matter. Didn’t Jihyo say to get his shit sorted out? He’s really fucking up by remaining complacent to his current lifestyle because he is scared of getting you hurt.

The honesty in your response strikes a chord in him, but his internal fights find expression as he admits, "I’m sorry. It’s just, there’s been a lot on my mind lately. I feel like I don’t really know you anymore."

You register Namjoon's words with a mix of surprise and concern, the air around you heavy with unspoken tension. It's a moment suspended in the confines of your car, and Namjoon feels the weight of his own admission.

"I mean, everything's changed since we got to college, and it's not just with relationships or whatever," Namjoon continues, his eyes drifting to the nostalgia-inducing surroundings of your high school parking lot. “And I just…I've noticed you acting differently, feeling distant from me and I don't know how to navigate that." Namjoon admits, a hint of vulnerability seeping into his voice. His gaze searches your face for a sign, a cue that would unravel the mystery behind your recent actions.

You remain quiet, your eyes reflecting a complexity that eludes him. He fears pushing too hard, sensing that any additional pressure might push you further away. The car feels heavy with internal thoughts, the music’s hum a backdrop to the charged atmosphere.

"I guess I've been feeling…alone," Namjoon continues, his fingers tracing an absent pattern on the boba cup. "And seeing you with Yoongi, Jimin, and everyone, it's like…like the pieces don't fit the way they used to."

Your eyes soften, registering the sincerity in his words. A sense of deja vu in his words from a similar feeling from nights ago that he doesn’t know. Yet, there's a hesitancy, a wall that has grown between you two, making Namjoon wonder if it's a chasm that can be bridged.

"I know it's not fair to expect things to stay the same. We're all changing, I get that," he confesses, the weight of unspoken sentiments settling in the space between you, "But it feels like I'm losing you."

The admission lingers in the air.

"I felt the same way, actually," you confess, the words breaking the heavy silence. “When you started to talking to Jihyo last year and then you two sleeping with each other, even when Jimin started to get more invested in his relationship with Irene… I was feeling so left out.”

Namjoon wasn’t aware you felt that way. He left you with Yoongi, because Yoongi was someone he trusted would protect you. He wasn’t sure if Yoongi liked you in a romantic sense, but then at some point, he became worried he could’ve changed his mind.

”But I had Yoongs with me, and while it was a rough few months, he was always there to save me from falling into a dark void.”

Namjoon remembers the first time you fell into that dark void. You had become close friends with Yeonjun during your senior year as you both competed to be in the top 10 of your graduating class. You then invited him as your date to Seokjung’s wedding to spite Namjoon who had brought a date himself. He didn’t think you two were seeing each other until he saw you two kiss in the garden outside the reception. For some reason, that sight tore his heartstrings and debunked his previous thoughts.

Then the day he had gone up to campus to help you move into the dorm was the day he decided to end things. He’s still not sure why. Though, Namjoon hated that fucker for deciding to do that right as you were starting your new life. Yoongi saw it happen and was the first to comfort you. Then him and Jimin rushed to your aid as they went to buy snacks to celebrate the move-in. Yeonjun was lucky he wasn’t going to the same college as you. Namjoon would’ve made his life a living hell until the kid dropped out or transferred.

”So please don’t feel that way Namjoon. You have me. You have Yoongi, Jimin, everyone in the house and even those not living there. You have Soyoon too.”

Soyoon. She was a nice girl, different from Jihyo and you. Against the norms and all for breaking boundaries in art. He relates to that. He could have fallen for her if his heart wasn’t deadset on you. It’s been that way for years and he didn’t want to keep running from you anymore. Soyoon was actually helping him find the chance to tell you.

Namjoon absorbs your words, his mind processing the layers of emotion and revelation that have unfolded in this unexpected conversation. The honesty you've shared lays bare the intricacies of your feelings, illuminating a side of your experience he hadn't fully comprehended.

"I appreciate you saying that, Y/N," Namjoon begins, his voice sincere. "I never realized the impact my actions had on you. I guess I was so caught up in my own struggles that I didn't see how it affected you."

Namjoon finds himself drawing closer to you, the subtle shift in his posture closing the physical distance between you two. He can feel the warmth radiating from your presence, a comfort that transcends words. In the quietude of shared history, he inches closer, his gaze locked onto your warm coffee eyes.

"You've always been my constant, Y/N," he murmurs, the sincerity in his voice threaded with vulnerability. "making me feel grounded when I become overwhelmed."

The words lingers in the small space between you, and as his eyes meet yours, there's an understanding. Namjoon's hand instinctively reaches up, fingers gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. The touch is tender, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken connection that has woven itself through the tapestry of your friendship.

A soft blush graces your cheeks, an involuntary reaction to the proximity that leaves Namjoon captivated by your charm. He finds your bashfulness endearing.

The air is charged with a different energy, one that goes beyond friendship and borders of emotions you can’t pinpoint. Yet, in this delicate dance of shared frustrations and questions, Namjoon chooses to tread carefully, aware that some feelings are better left unsaid for now. The car becomes a cocoon, shielding you both from the world outside, as the echoes of lost words reverberate in the uncharted space between friends.

"I think we should head back…" you say, breaking the subtle tension that had wrapped around you both. The vulnerability shared in this moment needs time to settle, and the familiar grounds of your past are safer than the uncharted territories you've inadvertently explored.

Namjoon nods, his hand gently retracting from its intimate proximity.

“Y-Yeah, definitely.” He stutters, which isn’t a common thing for him. You find that cute though.

The drive back to your neighborhood is filled with a comfortable silence, punctuated by the occasional shared laughter about random memories of this town you lived in. The tension seems to dissipate gradually, replaced by the comforting familiarity that defines your friendship.

Once you arrive back at your place, Namjoon remains seated for a moment, his gaze fixed on the steering wheel. "Thanks for today," he says, his tone carrying a mix of gratitude and contemplation.

"It was nice, Joon," you reply, your eyes meeting his briefly. The sentiments still linger, like shadows dancing on the periphery, but for now, anything outside this boundary remain untouched.

++++++++++++++

December 25th [Tuesday]

The days leading up to Christmas are packed with plans, with you bustling through holiday preparations. You find yourself going out more than usual, whether it's Christmas gift shopping with Yoongi for the guys or joining the late birthday dinner for Jin at his favorite local Koreatown BBQ place. Amidst the festivities, you occasionally run into Namjoon, sharing dinners with Mrs. Kim or your own family. The Sanctuary group chat keeps you entertained during the quieter moments.

Despite the festive busyness, there are times when you find yourself alone, lost in your thoughts. The echo of Namjoon's words hangs in the air, a revelation that caught you off guard. As you navigate through the hustle and bustle of the season, you can't help but confront the questions swirling in your mind.

A childish part of you feels a strange satisfaction knowing that Namjoon experienced the same loneliness he unwittingly subjected you to earlier in the semester. Yet, there's a deeper, more somber emotion beneath the surface. Each sigh you let out seems to spawn more questions than answers. What are you even doing right now, playing with your own heart while sleeping with your own best friends? You feel like you’re wasting their time and feelings as well. Another thought lingers in your mind: What if, in the midst of all this, you realize you had feelings for Namjoon all along? What’s going to happen then?

"Y/N? Did you want some of the treats my dad made?" Jihyun's voice breaks through your thoughts, and you glance up to find Jimin's younger brother peering at you. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks; you forgot you're at Jimin's house for Christmas. Losing yourself in contemplation in public and getting caught feels mortifying. You realize you need to figure things out soon.

"Jihyun! Sorry, I was lost in thought," you apologize, the embarrassment evident in your voice. "I'll take the blueberry scone! Thank you." The younger boy smiles, handing you the pastry with a napkin. As he continues offering treats to others in the house, you marvel at the holiday spirit that envelopes Jimin's home.

The living room, adorned with twinkling lights and holiday decorations, seems to come alive with excitement. Plush cushions and throws add a cozy touch to the seating arrangement. Jimin's mom, still in the kitchen, contributes to the festive atmosphere with her cheerful hums and the clinking of utensils. The aroma of holiday spices wafts through the air, creating a comforting and welcoming environment. It's a perfect setting for friends to gather and celebrate the joyous season.

"So January 19, we’re going camping?" Taehyung words catch onto your radar in the midst of you looking around at the decor.

"Huh? What? Camping?" You blurt out in surprise, prompting a sigh from Taehyung. You need to stop spacing out.

"Yeah, camping. We’ve talked about this before!" Jungkook exclaims, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "Taehyung wants us to go on a frat retreat."

"Oh, well, sorry, I’ve had a lot on my mind before, so I didn’t know," you reply, your gaze shifting to Yoongi and Jimin, who exchange unreadable glances. They quickly look away when you catch them.

"It’s gonna be us, but if you want to invite your lady friends, you can." Jin comments, taking a sip of his spiced tea with a contented smile.

"Uh, sure, I can invite Hwasa, Jieun, Soohyun, and Soyoon—" You pause, a sudden awareness of Namjoon's secret rendezvous with Soyoon making you hesitate. Unsure if it's appropriate to invite her, you choose your words carefully.

It seems Namjoon has similar thoughts, and he responds, "That’s a fine group." Maybe he had already discussed it with her. The realization hits you: why are you only finding out about this camping trip now?

"Then it’s settled! We’re going camping!" Hoseok yelps in excitement, wrapping his arms around Tae and Jungkook. The room buzzes with energy, filled with the anticipation.

However you can't shake the worry gnawing at your thoughts.

As the evening unfolds, you contemplate the upcoming camping trip, wondering if it will provide answers or only deepen the complexities within your friend group.

tbc :O a/n: we've made it halfway through!!! YAY! we finally got namjoon's perspective in here. camping chapter is up next! that will be loosely based on an irl experience i had going on an MT TRIP with my club back in college!! smack down in the winter during those 3 day weekends we get in january/february. Anyone have any thoughts or theories? i'd love to heart about them so lmk hehehe thank you all for reading!

[ghosttotheparty]

a mess of holy things 1 also on ao3 // next cw: implied religious trauma/abuse

It feels weird to be in this room.

It’s so… empty.

Not that Steve’s room at his parents’ house back home is full. His walls were always void of photos and art and everything people on TV had, still are now that he’s gone, always covered in that wallpaper his mother picked when he was eleven. He was never allowed to talk badly about it, not that he would have had he been granted permission. But these walls don’t have wallpaper on them. They’re bare, white, empty.

He stares at them when his parents leave.

He sits on the edge of his bed, which is smaller than his bed back home, and naked except for the two blue suitcases he brought with him, and he looks across the room. At the bare wall. He doesn’t really feel the urge to cover it with anything, but it still feels sort of unnerving to look at. Like there’s something wrong with it.

But Steve doesn’t think the walls are what his father is worried about with him living here for college.

He’d had to listen to him for weeks after getting the acceptance letter in the mail. The school is popular for its business course, which of course is the reason Steve applied in the first place, despite his indifference when it comes to business, but it’s in the city. Steve had never been to a city before today.

It’s noisier than it is back home, he thinks as he turns to look out his window. From where he’s sitting he can only see the tops of trees; he got lucky in that his room faces away from the other dorm buildings around his, and he takes a moment to watch the leaves blow in the wind for a moment. He can hear voices from downstairs, muffled but still audible. It sounds like they’re arguing, but Steve can’t tell if they are or not; he had the same issue back home when he could hear his parents’ voices from his room upstairs. Though they were usually arguing when he cracked his door open.

He can hear cars from outside, a motorcycle revving, a distant siren that fades after a few moments. Some laughter that somehow feels more distant than anything else.

He stands after another second, crossing the small distance to his desk that’s in front of the window, setting his hands on the chair as he leans over it to look outside. He’s on the third floor. When he leans over farther he can see some people gathered in a circle in the grass. One is laying on his back, his hands on his belly as he laughs, and as Steve watches, a girl next to him reaches over to smack his leg. One boy in the group is smoking a cigarette. Steve looks away.

There’s a corkboard on the other side of the bed, next to some shelving. Steve looks at it, listening to the boy laugh. He doesn’t think he has anything to put on it, but maybe he can get a calendar or something.

It feels so quiet in here. Even with the noises outside.

But he’s never minded the silence.

He unpacks slowly. He does the cardboard boxes first. There isn’t much, just some old textbooks from his father, textbooks he used when he went to business school. Steve tried to tell him that they probably use different textbooks now, especially considering he goes to a different school than the one his father went to, but he insisted these books are the best, so Steve stayed quiet. He doesn’t like to argue, especially with his father. The books are padded with his bedding, which he tosses onto one of the suitcases while he unpacks, as he stacks the books on one of the shelves next to his desk.

His winter clothes go into the wardrobe, his towel and soaps into the bathroom, and when he finds his paper and post-it notes and stationary, he makes a note to buy toilet paper and a bathmat. He knew he’d forget some things.

When he unpacks the suitcases, he does so slowly. He won’t admit it to himself, but it kind of feels like he’s procrastinating as he does it, like he doesn’t want to get to it.

He knows what he’s looking for, what he’s avoiding. It’s in the second suitcase, carefully wrapped in one of his favorite sweaters, and when he spots the red knit, he pauses, standing up straight and just looking for a moment.

He unpacks everything around it. It’s hot in his room when he finishes, and he’s sweating through the shirt he’s wearing. He opens his window and plugs in the fan his father packed for him before he pauses and cracks open the window above his desk. The group of people has left, probably because the sun is going down now, but he can still smell the cigarette smoke lingering in the air. But he can’t tell if it’s just his mind providing the smell because he knows it was there or not.

That’s happened before, him smelling or hearing things that he knows aren’t really there. Lingering cigarette smoke or weed smoke, the remnants of secular music that rattle around in his head like it’s empty except for echoing drum beats. It’s frustrating. He doesn’t want to hear the music, or smell those smells, and he knows he’s not supposed to. He’s caught himself humming along to songs that he doesn’t even know more times than he can count, and every time he just lets his head fall. He recites prayers that tend to take the place of the music.

His suitcase is empty except for the sweater. He supposes he should just finish so he can make his bed.

He kneels on the mattress, reaching over into the suitcase to pull it out, holding it with both hands like it might break even though he’s had it for as long as he can remember, and he knows that it won’t shatter to pieces in his hands. He still kind of feels like his hands have that ability. To break anything.

Especially something like this.

He unwraps the crucifix, and he doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath. The cross is wood. Jesus is gold. Steve doesn’t think it’s real gold, but it’s gleaming at him nonetheless. He drops the sweater on the bed again, and with a shaking hand, he sets the crucifix on one of the shelves next to his desk. It’s up high, looking down at the rest of the room in judgement.

Steve looks away, exhaling.

He puts the sweater in his wardrobe, folded carefully so he doesn’t stretch the yarn. And then he makes his bed. It’s hard to get the corners of the mattress right because of how the room is laid out, but he manages it, and when he’s done, he takes a shower. He’s grateful to his parents for paying for him to have his own bathroom, grateful that he doesn’t have to wait for showers to be available or risk having to talk to people in the hallways.

He thinks that might be part of why they paid for it. They, meaning his father specifically. He makes the decisions. Steve’s mom just agrees and stays quiet.

His dad doesn’t like the idea of Steve being in the city.

Not because of the noise, or the trash, or because it’s something that’s foreign to Steve, somewhere that he doesn’t feel particularly, entirely safe, but because of the people that Steve is surrounded by. In his words, heathens and hippies, chain-smokers and Satanists. Steve had to very carefully tell him that he’s responsible for who he spends time with, and he’s always been conscious of his friends’ mindsets and focuses and goals. Which is the truth. His only friends from home he met in church as a child.

Though met may be generous; their mothers had been friends and they had been stuck together in the playroom when they were small, but as soon as they were old enough to sit still, even when they didn’t want to, they were separated to sit with their families. But they were all Steve knew, so they stayed together in school, even when Steve decided he didn’t really like them that much. Which is why he’s kind of glad he’s here in the city; it’s so much less likely that he’ll run into a familiar face, someone he went to school with. He feels just inches closer to escaping.

Escaping.

He shouldn’t be thinking about that.

He shouldn’t be thinking about leaving home. He shouldn’t be happy about being here in this empty room instead of in his parents’ house.

It’s highlighted in his copy of the Bible, the one he got when he was ten that he’s kept on his bedside for almost a decade. It’s highlighted in yellow. Important.

Ephesians 6:1-3.

1 aChildren, bobey your parents in the Lord: for this is right. 2 aHonour thy father and mother; (which is the first commandment with promise;) 3 That it may be well with thee, and thou mayest live long on the earth.

It’s hard sometimes. But he tries. And he likes to think that that’s enough for now.

He doesn’t have anything to eat. His parents didn’t get anything for him on the way to his dorm, and then they left right after helping him move everything into his room and lecturing him about being mindful of who he’s friends with. So he just takes a shower and says his nighttime prayer, and he goes to bed.

His room isn’t as dark as his room at his parents’ house. There are lights outside, lining the sidewalk his room overlooks, and they peer through the windows when he pulls them shut. He stares at the ceiling. He kind of wishes there was something to see on it instead of white paint. But when he closes his eyes, he can pretend he’s facing the sky full of stars.

He manages to drift off after a while, but he wakes up around midnight to the smell of weed. He wrinkles his nose, blinking his eyes open and squinting as his eyes adjust to the darkness. He rolls over, furrowing his eyebrows as he looks across the room to his open window, and he sighs heavily. His limbs are sore as he gets up heavily. He’s pretty sure he has a bruise or two on his legs but carrying in the boxes.

He’s still squinting as he leans over his desk to look out the window. There’s another group of people where the others had been earlier, and of course Steve would get stuck with the room right above a popular smoking spot. There are fewer people in this group than there had been in the other, but two of them are smoking, watching a third as she spins at the center of their little circle. Her skirt fans around her legs, and another person starts clapping. The girl giggles and sits back down heavily, reaching for her friend’s cigarette. Steve watches for another moment before he pulls his window shut. He moves his fan closer to his bed.

It’s not that it’s particularly weird to not have friends.

But he doesn’t speak at all without anyone he knows around, and his throat starts to feel weird after about a week. He didn’t realize how little he spoke when he wasn’t with his friends. He knew he didn’t talk much at home, but that’s… different.

It’s not necessarily that he wasn’t allowed to talk at home. He just wasn’t supposed to. He didn’t have to.

And now he doesn’t have to because there’s no one to hear him. Attendance is taken in the form of a sheet of paper by the door, every student’s name typed out neatly, waiting for a signature next to it, and Steve isn’t to volunteer answers when his professors pose questions to the class. He listens quietly. Takes notes.

He supposes he’s avoiding the others’ eyes after a while. He doesn’t know why; it’s like he’s scared that they’ll look into him, that they’ll find something he doesn’t want them to. A few of them offer friendly smiles, polite waves, and Steve reciprocates, but in a way that lets them know he won’t be joining them, or making conversation, or any of the things normal people do. Steve doesn’t really think he counts as a normal person. His parents would say that he isn’t like the others, because he’s enlightened, because he’s saved.

But he’s starting to wonder if that’s exactly what it is, just… Maybe not in the way his parents think.

He doesn’t know if he feels lonely. If he knows what it feels like to be lonely. It’s an odd feeling, this uncertainty, but he doesn’t think it’s a bad feeling. The solitude is nice sometimes. The quiet. But he does wonder if this is what his life is going to be like from now on, so quiet and slow and…

Boring.

It’s boring.

He’ll barely admit it to himself, but he’s bored in his dorm room. Bored of the white walls and plain blankets, of his textbooks and his professors’ droning voices. Bored of the same breakfast every morning (eggs and toast, a cup of black coffee), of the same walk to his lectures (past the other dorm building and two lecture halls, through a pathway that cuts across a park that’s spotted with benches and trash cans). Bored of his degree. Already.

He doesn’t tell his parents all of this during their weekly phone calls, of course. His voice is rough as he speaks to them, but they don’t question it. Of course they don’t. Steve doesn’t think they even notice. Their calls are always filled with the same conversations:

My classes are going well.

Everything is turned in on time.

I have an essay due in a few weeks.

The outline is already done.

My hallway has been quiet.

My professors seem nice.

I haven’t made any friends.

I’ve been focussing on my schoolwork.

Friends aren’t my priority right now.

They let it slide. As long as he’s passing his classes, as long as he’s praying. They don’t ask if he’s been to church since he started college. (He hasn’t. He doesn’t know if he wants to, even though he knows where the church is in the city, even though he knows what times services start and end. He practically has the schedule memorized.)

And he’s bored.

Bored.

Bored.

The library in the city is better than the one on campus in Steve’s opinion.

It’s a bit noisier with the city outside, with cars and trucks and motorcycles, sirens and construction and shouting, but it’s not just students there, which Steve thinks is what he likes. On campus, every room is filled with people his age, people he should know how to talk to, people he should be spending time with and chatting with and becoming friends with, and there’s this pressure on his chest the whole time. Like he’s doing something wrong as he’s looking through his textbooks and analyzing his notes.

In the city, there are a few people that Steve would recognize as students at his college, but there are also children carrying picturebooks, whispering loudly to their parents, and teenagers doing their homework, and elderly people looking through shelves of books, and Steve somehow feels less lonely here.

He starts going to the public library a few weeks into the school year on a whim; at first it was just to see what the library was like, just to get out of his dorm room and finally explore a little after so much boredom, but it’s become a common thing for him. It’s nice to see the city, even if there’s a sense of wrongness that follows him around as he looks at the other people. At the women in their short skirts, at the couples making out against the walls of buildings. All the people his parents would scoff at and turn toward Steve to give him a lecture because they can’t give it to the person they’re actually judging.

But for some reason, Steve likes seeing these people. He doesn’t know if it’s a sense of adventure that he gets in seeing these people and not hearing a whole spiel about how they’ll end up in Hell and how God is watching them, and oh, may God lead them to the light, despite the fact that they tend to look pretty happy with themselves as and where they are. There aren’t as many of these people in the library (save for the couple Steve saw making out behind a bookshelf; he managed to get away before they noticed him there.), but he still likes it there. There are so many more people in this public library than the one in his hometown, but it’s still just as quiet.

There are more study rooms in this library than the one back home. There’s one on the second floor that Steve likes: it’s small and sort of tucked away into a corner, the door creaky and a little hard to push open. The table is wobbly the same way his desks were in high school, and there are old doodles on it, some in ink or smudged graphite, others carved into the wood and smoothed down over time.

Every time Steve reaches for the door, he says a little prayer that there’s no one inside, and so far, he hasn’t walked in on anybody. He always anticipates it, stepping inside and making wide-eyed eye contact with a stranger, mumbling an apology in his rough, barely-used voice before he leaves and never comes back just because he can’t handle it. But maybe his prayers are working. Or maybe he’s just lucky.

He thinks he’s just lucky.

He’s also lucky that no one has come in while he’s working. Maybe because it’s so tucked away, hidden in some bookshelves, nobody really sees it.

The quiet city sounds are even quieter when he’s in this room, the vehicles and sirens and loud laughter all muffled behind the walls, and the sounds of his studying seem unusually loud in turn, the scratching of his pencil, the turning of his pages, and soft thuds of the table leg tapping the ground as he works, wobbling back and forth and back and forth. He likes it here. It might be his favorite place that he’s found since he started college, quiet and peaceful and away from it all.

He hears a truck pass outside as he turns the page in his textbook. It’s a second-hand book, one he bought after reading the supply list for one of his classes, and some of the lines are already marked, highlighted in a fading yellow or circled with smudged pencil. He ignores the annotations at first, copying down the text that he thinks is important, and then he goes back to see what the book’s previous owners thought was important. He hesitates, then writes it all down too.

He startles when the door opens abruptly, jumping and looking up, his hand fumbling with his pen. He drops it as a man enters the room, carrying a backpack. He’s got long hair that seems to obstruct his vision until he tosses his head, flicking his hair out of the way, and he closes the door behind himself, letting out a breath before he looks up and his eyes meet Steve’s.

“Jesus Christ—”

Steve’s eyes widen as he watches the man startle, turning to hide his face as he presses a ring-clad hand to his chest.

“Sorry,” the man says breathily, flinging his hair away again. “Shit. Uh.” He takes another breath, awkwardly running a hand through his hair, pushing it back, facing Steve. It’s longer than Steve’s ever seen on a man, past his shoulders and wavy, frizzy like it should be curly. There are bits of metal on his face, piercings in places Steve’s never seen: on the bridge of his nose between his eyes, on his eyebrows, his mouth. “There usually isn’t, uhm, anyone in here.”

“Oh,” Steve says finally, blinking at him. His eyes flick up and down the man’s body, scanning the angel on his t-shirt, patches and pins on his denim jacket, the rips in his jeans. He’s never seen anyone dressed like this before, so… dark. Even his boots are intimidating. The rings on his fingers look heavy, and Steve has to tear his eyes away from them.

“I’m just… I’m just studying,” he says finally. “If you… wanna share.”

“Okay,” the man says, and he’s smiling awkwardly now. He has a nice smile. It digs lines into his cheeks and makes his eyes squint, but Steve can still see how dark and shiny they are. Like a deer’s.

He watches the man sit at the other end of the table, watches him set his bag on the ground and pull some books out of it to set them on the table. Steve glances at the books and stops, staring. Atop one book that's plain brown, untitled, the spine bare, are a few colorful ones, reading Dungeons & Dragons above various illustrations of monsters. Steve feels the man glance over at him, and he looks away sharply, back down at his textbook and notebook.

It’s suddenly too quiet, even though there’s more noise than there was a minute ago. Steve listens to him rifle through his bag and glances out of the corner of his eye to watch him pull a pen out of the biggest pocket.

Steve looks away again. Finishes the sentence he’d been writing when the man came in. Turns the page of his textbook and tries to read the next paragraph.

It’s not a minute later that he looks up at the man again. He’s sitting funnily. One leg brought up onto his chair, arm around it, his cheek almost resting on his knee. The rip in his jeans shows his skin under it, and he looks even paler against the dark fabric. He’s writing in the brown book, and Steve’s eyes skim down to his hands. He’s right-handed, and his nails are painted black. The polish is chipping.

Steve looks back and forth between him and his notebook, glancing and staring, noticing something new every time he looks. There’s a tattoo covering the back of his hand. It looks like some kind of flower.

When he leans back in his seat, looking down at his book, he lifts a hand to his mouth and nibbles at his nail for a moment before he grimaces and lowers his hand. When he lowers his hand, Steve can see the tattoo that’s covering his neck and throat; it’s a bat, its wings outstretched, its mouth in some grotesque expression. Steve looks away.

He feels nervous, somehow.

The man seems nice enough. He smiled at Steve. Apologized for his reaction. He’s being quiet, respectful of their shared space. Keeping all of his things on his side of the table.

But the angel on his t-shirt has a skull instead of a face. He’s wearing at least three necklaces, silver chains and one with a charm that Steve can’t quite identify. There are tattoos on his fingers, partially hidden under his heavy rings that click every time he does something with his hands. The patches on his jacket have symbols on them that would prompt Steve’s parents into prayer.

And Steve isn’t sure how to feel about him.

He knows he isn’t supposed to like him.

But it feels odd to dislike someone because of their hair, their clothes, the art on their skin.

And he has a nice smile.

Steve faces his notebook but can’t tear his eyes away from the man. He watches him write, glancing back and forth between the colorful Dungeons & Dragons books and his brown notebook, watches him twist one of his rings around his finger, watches his lips twist as he thinks. It’s a while that Steve sits here, watching and staring, looking at his tattoos, at his piercings, at his hair (which he keeps re-tucking behind his ear).

“I can feel you looking at me,” the man says finally, and Steve drops his pen, his face flushing with heat.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, eyes wide, but the man just smiles at his notebook, scribbling something down before he looks up at Steve again. And Steve can see his piercings clearly now, two through both of his eyebrows, one through the bridge of his nose, one on either side of his bottom lip. They’re silver studs, and they gleam in the sunlight coming in through the window.

“‘S okay,” he says lightly, gently, smiling. “I get it a lot.”

It’s quiet for a moment as they look at each other, and Steve feels oddly self-conscious as the man’s eyes flick over him, like he’s analysing the shirt Steve is wearing, the way his hair is pushed back. But the man’s smile doesn’t waver, even as he leans over his notebook and gestures to Steve with a jerk of his chin.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Uhm.” Steve finally looks away, glances down at where his handwriting has lifted up off the lines of his notebook, distracted. “…Business management and administration.”

“Sounds exciting,” the man says dryly, and Steve just shakes his head, which prompts a laugh from him. “I’m assuming you go to college here?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve says awkwardly, crossing his arms over the table. “I’m a freshman.”

“How are you liking it?”

“Uh,” Steve says again. “…I like it.”

He just raises an eyebrow like he’s amused, silently promoting Steve, like he’s poking him in the side.

“It’s kinda lonely,” Steve says with a light shrug.

“You don’t have friends?”

“I…” He shrugs again. “I’m not… very social, I guess. I had friends in high school, but I think…” He hesitates, oddly unfamiliar with the sound of his voice after being silent for so long, but the man looks so patient, listening closely like he actually wants to hear what Steve has to say. “I think I didn’t really like them that much,” he says finally. “I took a gap year after grad and they all left for college and it was like I… I could breathe without them.”

He shrugs again, but the man is just smiling now. Like he gets it. He has a really nice smile. Steve looks at it, at the way his piercings shift slightly as his lips curve.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Steve blinks. Looks back into his eyes. (They’re so dark.)

“Sorry,” he says, cheeks flushing with heat again. “I just… I’ve never seen anyone like you before.”

The man’s smile turns sly, and he sets his chin on his palm, resting his elbow on the table.

“Never seen a freak?” he says smoothly.

“I don’t know if that’s the word I’d use,” Steve says hesitantly. The man laughs brightly, almost childishly, and Steve can’t suppress his own smile.

“What’s, uhm. What’s Slayer?” Steve asks, glancing at the man’s shirt, watching him lean back to look at his own chest like he’s forgotten what he’s wearing.

“It’s a band,” he says. “One of my favorites.”

“What kind of music is it?” Steve asks curiously, and he doesn’t think he'd never be talking this much if it were anyone else, but the man’s eyes are trained on him so kindly. Steve knows he should be avoiding him at all costs, but he seems sweet in a way that Steve can’t really describe.

“Metal,” the man says lightly.

Steve looks at him blankly, and he starts to smile again, pressing his lips together.

“What kind of music do you listen to?”

“I don’t listen to music.”

“At all?”

Steve shakes his head, squeezing his upper arm.

“My father says media distracts the soul from its righteous duties.”

He looks up at him nervously, because that’s such a weird thing to say, isn’t it? But the man’s eyes are sparkling at him, and he’s still smiling.

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Steve raises an eyebrow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You look righteous.”

“You don’t.”

A laugh bursts out of him, and Steve finally cracks a smile, tilting his head at him.

“Yeah, I know,” he says finally, still beaming at Steve.

And then they fall quiet, just looking at each other. Like they’re both studying each other, taking note of what’s different. His long frizzy curls, Steve’s carefully tamed hair. His painted, chipped nails, Steve’s bare ones that he’s never really thought twice about. His worn t-shirt and patched jacket and Steve’s collared shirt that’s tucked into his pants.

“I, uhm…” the man finally says, hesitating, tapping a finger on the table lightly. “I live really close to here, if you wanna give Slayer a listen.”

Steve blinks, taken aback by the invitation, but before he can respond, the man gestures to Steve’s books.

“Unless you’re too busy with business management.”

Steve flips his notebook shut silently. The man laughs brightly.

“Sure,” Steve says, surprising himself. His parents would kill him.

But it feels kind of exciting, putting his books in his bag as the man does the same, still smiling. Steve thinks he must smile a lot.

permanent taglist: @estrellami-1 @theplantscientist @spectrum-spectre @carlprocastinator1000 @starman-jpg <3 holy things taglist: @stevesbipanic @pearynice @ao3whore @slowandsteddie <3 (comment to be added/removed to/from either list!!)

♡ buy me a coffee ♡

[idkanametoputhere]

hi!! i have a request! of a fic or hcs either one is great so it's about reader/yuu and grim get stuck in a time loop and they try ways to escape but no luck and they just try to learn to accept it. (at least they will be together forever 🤷)



(Ofc, you don't have to do it if you don't want to.)

hi love! let me tell u I LOVE ur request, I actually wanted to write smth like this but didn't really start writing it so thank u for giving me the opportunity to write it :)

type: angst(-y)

pronouns: they/them

tw: mentions of suicide, poisoning oneself, drowning, mentions of going mad, implied assault(or worse) if u squint, literally losing your mind

masterlist&lt;3

time is a concept of the human mind. it was created by ancient races when seeing the sun's position. throughout the centuries it evolved into the modern concept of time, calculated in days, hours, seconds, etc. science has proven time and time again that time can only move forward, the present was the future and will be the past. that is simply a rule that mother nature set on the universe

that logic of course does not apply to a world as twisted as this one

the beloved prefect, along with their cat-like companion, came to the conclusion that time has little to no significance in this world. it is a concept that the forces of the universe enjoy toying with

it was the first day of school, the welcoming ceremony. or to be more specific, it was the fifty-second welcoming ceremony for that year, for the prefect and grim at least

the first time it happened, they were almost set ablaze by grim as he tried to take their spot as a student. nowadays they just wait for the coffin to open and grant them permission to step out, too exhausted to try and follow the original scenario

and it always goes the same way, step out, head to the mirror, be told that you have no soul, get sorted to ramshackle

'be told that you have no soul' funny. originally the phrase was used by the dark mirror towards the prefect as a way to exclaim that they are magicless. now the prefect thinks that the literal meaning of the phrase fits them way better

and so they live their school life in this endless loop. sometimes they have fun, knowing how things will play out and watching from the sidelines, other times they warn their friends and schoolmates as they are worried for their well being. but no matter what they do, two things remain the same

one is that the students are always unsettled by them

the more the cycle repeats, the more students want to avoid the ramshackle dorm altogether. friends that once fed grim tuna and comforted the prefect during their lowest times now have an unexplainable fear of their old friends. an unreasonable fear

they feel like they know them, but at the same time they have never met them before. they feel as if they have spent years by their side, but they aren't even from the same world

the weirdest thing, though, happened when ortho tried to scan them to get their information. most of their information was normal, except from two things. instead of their age being displayed, the numbers were going crazy, constantly switching, reaching even three digits some times. and their life state? dead

the second thing that remained the same was of course the storyline. no matter what they did, it was always the same. like a broken record that's stuck on the same part of the song. some little things changed, like their grades for instance. when they first arrived they couldn't even understand the logic of this world, by the tenth time they almost knew the whole history textbook by heart

of course, there weren't many positives to the loop. there were so many nights where the prefect was crying their eyes off, holding grim as they were both comforting eachother with their presence. you see, living the same thing again and again can drive you crazy

and when the glass gets constantly filled, it eventually spills

they tried every way to get out of the loop. they drank poison that turned their veins black and filled their lungs with a black cloud of smoke, not letting them inhale any air. another time they reached a cliff on the isle of sage, the sea being under them, covered by large rocks. they fell into it, breaking so many bones that their mind couldn't comprehend it. and then there was the time when they filled their bathtub with water, not stopping the water from running even when the tub was full. they went under water and stayed there until their last air bubbles reached the surface

nothing

nothing happened

every single time they woke up at that god forsaken coffin

why? why were the gods punishing them like that? what sins and crimes did they commit at their past life for them to be punished like this?

they tried everything, everything in their power to escape that cursed routine, but they were unable to

at least they had grim with them. they don't know how much worse the things they'd so would be if he wasn't there to keep them company

what they didn't know was the singular condition for the loop to end

they had to stop their friends from overblotting before they did. together with grim, they had to use their brains and magic to stop the students on their school from overblotting.they had to stop all the negative thoughts from consuming and taking over the people they have seen drowning in ink so many times before. they had to paint the picture another colour, different from the black that was painting the canvas of their lives

but they couldn't

and so the loop continues, as the ramshackle residents fall into an eternal rabbit hole of madness and repetition, with the key to their escape just out of their reach

no I did NOT almost forget grim, WHAT are u talking about. and no I did NOT write this in a total of 30 minutes, in the span of two days when I was on the bus and getting back from school. me? never!!!!

anywho when I reach 100 followers (currently at 91) I will do a "meet the author" so yeah

[convolutedperson]

"I'm not a narcissist, darling, I'm just better."

Everyone shut up!! I'm going to tell you about my first OC, Alice Gardener.

She's the bastard daughter of a human noble, and fled home as soon as her father's patience for her wore thin. She's a paladin... of a sort. Alice believes in no higher power except for the one residing in herself. As long as she believes in herself, she has supernatural physical skills beyond those of any normal human. That first clause is very important. As soon as she is shaken or knocked from her untouchable pedestal, her powers lessen or stop functioning altogether.

Many famous stories have "chosen one" characters, where the characters recognizes the inherent importance of that chosen one in defeating the antagonist. What if there was a "chosen one" character who was not the chosen one? I think about that when considering Alice's story.

Alice's belief in her inherent protagonism isolates her from deeper relationships and connections. She is a textbook narcissist, and she struggles with the fact that it is this narcissism that grants her power.

Her temperament is sanguine, her color is gold, and her tarot card is Strength upright.

[asyastudieskorean]

9/20/2023 — Hello, studying world. Today I start my journey of learning Korean with my first university Korean class (online). We didn't have any work on the first day, so all I did was read the syllabus (the most basic, non-informative syllabus I've ever read, ha), set up my new desk space, and updated my student bio on Canvas. I haven't been a college student for about 3 years, so it felt like I accomplished a lot. When the readings and assignments start coming in, I'm sure reality will hit.

I've always wanted to learn Korean, and my goal is to reach a near-fluent level, but I know it'll be hard, especially with my full-time work priorities. Eventually, being able to teach and work in translation is my goal. FYI, Chinese, Thai, and Japanese are on my list, too, but I'll be realistic and focus on one language for the foreseeable future.

Last week, as it so happens, I had to move from my family and childhood home, and I am lacking in the positivity department rn, so I think having a place to chronicle my studies and the progress I make will be good for me. I tend to start a new blog on here when I'm having a hard time, and it helps.

So, the plan is to take two full academic years of Korean (that's 3 quarters per year at my university). That's just how much Korean the school offers. I graduated in 2020 from this same university with a BA in English with a focus on professional and creative writing, and I really enjoyed the overall experience studying here.

I spent a whole lot of time obsessing over grammar, reading new and old literature, trying to understand poetry, and just enjoying the inner peace I felt when writing fiction. It was maybe my most happy time because I had no other real responsibilities or worries besides school. All I did was read and write.

Anyhow, fast forward to now, after pondering different language learning options (which are limited in my area), I decided to take my Korean classes at the university level because the classes will show up on my official university transcripts, and I imagine that will be best when I apply for future Korean-related jobs. I am also hoping that by taking university-level language classes, they will have some sort of superior level of... intensity? accuracy? efficiency? Something like that. Granted, this route isn't the best for my finances, as there is no aid for non-matriculated post-grads, and the cost of a single class is quite ridiculous. But alas, here I am, with an empty wallet and hope in my eyes.

Upon reading the syllabus today, which could basically be summarized as "TBD," I realized the textbook I bought, the textbook I waited over a week for, the one listed on the online course materials list, is, in fact, not the correct textbook.

And, icing on the bitter cake, the correct textbook appears to be a rare Pokémon that isn't available anywhere except the dark corners of eBay, where shipping will take at least 2 weeks. Like how did other students get this? Did they order it two months in advance? Meanwhile, I have my first assignments and readings due Monday.

I quite literally just sent an email to my professor and asked what I should do, so we'll see what she says, but I really wasn't hoping to be that one student, emailing the professor about an issue on day 1.

Since this is my first post here, here also is a tiny bit about me:

My name is Asya ("Asia"), and I'm a 24-year-old English grad based in Washington; no, not the one followed by DC, but the state with a lot of rain and trees. Twilight? Starbucks? Amazon? Yes, that one.

Since graduating in 2020, I've been a freelance editor and writer. I'm taking Korean both for passion and for work purposes, and I really should have started sooner. But I guess we're all on our own timelines.

I've been on Tumblr for a long, long time, but I've never been part of the studyblr sector. I'm glad to be here. :)

[astrum-aetherium]

hello hello!! wondering if u could pls do more intellectual rival stuff with henry!! lots of love! -star

i would love to, my dear, except with a request so vague i'm not even sure i can cater to it whilst simultaneously being convinced you will like it. i hope you can see this from my perspective. i've made a few posts in the genre already, and beyond the general overview, i'm afraid merely requesting 'more' doesn't tell me precisely what it is you want — thereby defeating the purpose of a personalized request — and merely granting me full artistic freedom tells me that whatever i may come up with runs the risk of not suiting your imagination/needs/preferences, which you have not specified.

in an environment as collaborative as a public blog predominantly thriving off of user-submitted scenarios that i expand and develop, i cannot be sure what to respond to you with except an equally vague selection of inklings that i can try and aim at your preference but can never be sure whether you'll actually end up enjoying. it's a shot in the dark to me, as i don't know you enough; i hope this doesn't come off as rude. i am merely unsure as i try to appeal to the masses equally and with maximized accuracy in regard to their named preferences.

therefore, here go a few vague enough thoughts that i can assume you may find suitable:

stealing academic rival!henry's textbook on purpose to get him in trouble (joke ends up being on you, as he has his translations and justifications memorized)

arranging a competitive study date with academic rival!henry to see who can get more done in the same timeframe (you're absolutely baffled by his efficiency)

teasing academic rival!henry during sex via being on top and halting, proceeding to quiz him on random intellectual matters as a motivator to keep moving (angers him beyond belief, wherefore you end up flipped on your back and worn out completely as a result)

[purple-rabbit-fics]

can you do any kevnoah (tribetwelve) oneshot 💔 i need to be fed

Your wish is granted ♡

TW: TRIBETWELVE

note: set in Noah and Kevin's college years

Sometimes You Can Study To Hard

The light in the college students dorm room had been on for hours. Now illuminating over Kevin's head where he's sat at his desk for hours now studying for his college finals. Kevin had been at it for a few days now, cramming every last bit of knowledge from his textbooks.

He's gone from chemistry to advanced calculus, his fine arts classes as well as history, he was not going to fail. Having been like this since he was a kid craving academic acceptance from his family and peers, he took on more than he could chew, ignoring his own needs and wants even health just to be seen as more than just smart. no. he wants to be seen as exceptional. If he was not smart then what was he?

As Kevin stared into the textbook his eyes tiredly glossing over every piece of text he takes notes almost absentmindedly as if he's on autopilot. The buzzing of the lights above his head rings throughout his ears becoming increasingly louder, but he ignores the growing headache creeping through his brain, the pounding on his forehead felt like a hammer to a nail.

Kevin looks up for a moment from the entrancement he had on the textbook, his eyes unblurring as he looks around the room and at his roommate's clock besides his bed.

Three o clock in the afternoon, he looks at his stopwatch on his desk realizing he's sat here since six in them morning, he didn't even notice his roommate Noah leave for his religious studies classes. Speaking of Noah he should be back by now, Kevin goes to stand up but quickly sits back down in his chair as a pounding in his head began. He forces his head back up due to the bright light above him shining down on his head, a soft groan escaping his lips as he lazily moves his arms towards his desk drawer, until, the bedroom doors lock unlocks, and in walks his tall, lanky roommate, Noah, who stands in the doorway for a moment walking in and kicking the door shut with his foot.

Noah quickly sets the pizza down on the coffee table in their dorm room and turns to Kevin after dropping his bookbag onto his bed and sitting down.

The first thing Noah says to Kevin rolls off of his tongue so naturally that it doesn't even phase him through his pounding headache. "you look like shit man" Noah gives him a small smile that Kevin can't help but fawn over silently to himself, snapping out of it and focusing back at the matter at hand that his college roommate and small crush just said he looked like shit.

"yeah, I know, I have a splitting headache dude..." a soft groan escapes his lips as a hand goes up to his head dramatically to humor the taller male. "you got any pills?" Noah nods and reaches into his bookbag he always keeps some on him, because recently he's been getting a lot of random headaches that have started interrupting his college work and job.

Kevin takes them from his hand with a small smile, he looks to Noah for a moment a small blush spreading across his face as he suddenly forgets all about his schoolwork and studying instead focusing on the small rambles of the man in-front of him. Kevin listens for a few more moments before wincing and pulling his hand back up to his head this time not to be dramatic instead he is pummeled with another pounding against his skull.

Noah stopped his rambling to pay attention to his roommate almost like a feeling, he brings his hand up to Kevin's head and shoots him a concerned look. "Kev your burning up", Noah gingerly takes Kevin's arms lifting him up from his chair where he can only assume his roommate has been sat at for hours neglecting his health.

As he lifts Kevin to his legs his roommate staggers in place for a moment he gives Noah a soft smile, and Noah returns it silently as he brings his friend to his bed laying him down. Kevin looks up at Noah who went over to their medicine cabinet and pulled out some Night-Quill pouring the purple liquid into the measuring cup provided. He sits at the side of Kevin's bed lifting the medicine cup up to his lips and watches as Kevin drinks it down, making a disgusted face afterwards. "bleh! that taste like shit Noah...". Noah just gives him a small dopey smile and leans down flipping the lid to the pizza box open and pulls out a warm slice of pepperoni pizza shoving it into his mouth.

Kevin stares at Noah watching as he eats the slice of pizza, a small laugh escapes his lips as the medicine slowly begins to hit him his mouth speaking before his brain even processes a thought.

"I like you Noah". Kevin giggles absentmindedly as he speaks those words. Noah looks over at Kevin for a moment and gives him another smile after finishing his bite of pizza. "Thanks, I like you to Kev". The small nickname Noah has for Kevin sounds like music to his ears its warm and soft and it fills him with joy, even through Kevin's loopy state he doubles down on his statement picking up that it went way over Noah's head.

"No. Noah". He says softly and a bit groggily as he sits up in the bed almost falling over but catching himself as he pushes his glasses back up to his face. Forcing his eyes to meet Noah's, who now has his full attention on him.

"I. like. you.", he says sternly and stares at Noah with wide eyes hoping he gets his point across to the taller less aware man. It takes Noah a moment before it dawns on him, what his roommate was getting at. "Oh!" Noah gives him a small smile his eyes widening as he places the unfinished pizza back into the box in a hurry before wiping his hands on his jeans taking a deep breath in and exhaling somewhat loudly, his attention turning to Kevin who is obviously holding himself awake by a string.

Noah's eyes soften as he glances down at Kevin's fingers which are nervously moving around, waiting for an answer. Noah's mind is racing slightly, he hasn't been in a real relationship since high-school and it didn't end well for him, he also has never dated a guy before but has never been opposed to the idea, though he's always kept those thoughts in the far back of his mind where he never let them slip through as bad as they wanted to, it just never happened.

Noah goes to speak, his mouth opening slightly before closing back again and Kevin's eyes dart away looking almost ashamed for even mentioning the affection he has for his roommate. Noah doesn't know what to do so his arms dart for Kevin's hands taking them in his softly to make them stop fidgeting. Kevin looks back up at Noah his eyes a lovely dark brown, Noah taking it in for a moment decides to open his mouth once more, this time speaking, "I wouldn't mind trying this out Kev..." his voice is soft and reassuring and Kevin lets out a breath he had been holding in for quite some time now, a small smile spreads across his lips as he kicks his legs a bit excitedly.

A blush appears on Noah's face as he stares down at his excited roommate, "uh so...how about when you feel better we could go get ice cream or something?" Noah says nervously as he rubs the back of his neck. Kevin gently takes Noah's hands and nods in agreement. "that would be nice, thankyou".