#he hasn't. he's just uploading as usual

[gender-euphowrya]

days without people i thought i could trust to be at the very least decent proving me wrong 0️⃣

[nexus-nebulae]

i love my brains complete lack of ability to connect things together. whys anything happening?? your guess is as good as mine

[churipu]

STUDYING WITH GOJO INCLUDES ✮⋆˙

featuring. gojo satoru x reader

warnings. clingy gojo, college! au, study buddies (u guys r dating) but he's unserious, soft gojo

note. sksjlddlsjjd look at me uploading anything but my 1k event, but pls i can't stop thinking abt studying with gojo and how unserious he will be during the session.

studying with gojo includes him whining about being bored because he's just naturally gifted — while you actually needed to study to match his brain capacity. he's a whiny baby about having to accompany you study when he was the one who volunteered to do so.

"baby, come on. can we please take a break? how long has it been? two hours?" he whines softly, his forehead had been stuck to the surface of the short table you had in your room. his long legs sprawled underneath it.

"satoru — it's been twenty minutes. and nobody forced you to be here, you can go if you want to," your answer only furthered his whining, like a small child who hasn't gotten what he wanted, he shifted a bit, letting the table move along with his movements; preventing you from focusing on the book you were scribbling on.

the man child finally pulls himself to sit up straight, a red blotch on his forehead. with furrowed brows, and a big frown on his face, he grabbed your pencil and tossed it across your room — sighing, you grabbed another one from your pencil case, and he did the same thing. only then after, the decided that throwing your pencil case across the room was the best choice.

"satoru, if you're not going to let me study, please leave."

yet again, another whine escaped his throat as he threw his head back onto your bed, "come on, 'ts good to take breaks, cuddle me, love me, pay attention to me!"

"we can do that later, 'ts a big exam next week . . ."

studying with gojo includes him distracting you with his love — whether it being a kiss, or just him stuck to your hips like a koala. he just needed a bit of love and attention as well.

gojo paced around your room, trying to distract himself from your silent form. poking around your figurines and shelves, looking through old year books, and even family albums. but nothing, he comes back to you, slotting your sitting form in between his open legs. gojo slithered his arms around your waist, burying his face into your shoulder.

"'m dying here y/n . . ."

your vague silence only offended him, "so y'don't care if your boyfriend's dying?"

sighing you replied, "i do care. but you're not," gojo grumbled under his breath, prepping his head up so his chin rested on top of your head, whistling out a a random tune that, of course, bothered you, "'toru, shut up."

"give me the love and attention that i deserve and maybe i'll stop," he nonchalantly said before continuing his whistling concert.

studying with gojo includes him finally being tired of not receiving what he wanted, and he turns sulky. his aura gloomy — and the corner of his lips tugged down into a big, giant frown.

gojo slipped himself under the table, resting his head on your thighs. the male looks up at you, only getting a good look of your chin and neck, he reaches his finger out, touching the tip of your chin before traveling down your neck.

still no love. or attention.

the male lets out one last (loud) sigh and tore himself away from you, plopping down on your bed. hiding under the covers, he curled himself up into a ball, his big back facing you — letting out grumbles under his breath as he hides his sorrow away.

you think gojo was being dramatic. he usually comes back, yearning for attention. but no, this time he didn't, just laying there on your bed for the next half an hour — where you coincidentally finished the last question in the practice page.

"satoru, are you asleep?" no answer. but the male shifted slightly, "satoru."

again, no answer. but gojo kicked his legs once, showing that he was indeed, not asleep at all. he had just been lying there, in the same position for the past half an hour.

"satoru, are you mad at me?"

gojo peeked one of his blue eyes from under the blanket and huffs childishly before grunting, he then prompted to pull down the blanket over his eye again. letting you have a taste of your own medicine, "fine, i was going to tell you that i can now give you love and attention. but you seem a little angry so i'm just gonna leave you alone—"

the male opened the blanket and pulled you under the warm fabric with him before covering you both, he immediately locks you in his embrace using a leg over your torso, "finally," he mutters out.

gojo pulled you in, a hand resting on your hips. his fingers raising the hem of your shirt just a bit to brush his digits on your skin intimately. he leans his head on top of your chest, "'m still mad at you if you're wondering."

chuckling, your fingers threaded with his white locks. your cheek pressed onto his head, "you're so childish, 'm not as smart as you, y'know? i need to study."

gojo hums softly, "there's still a week. seven days. you can start studying tomorrow, i promise i won't bother you then," he mutters out, his lips puckering into a small pout.

promises were meant to be broken anyways.

studying with gojo includes him promising he won't bother you the next time — and him ended up doing the same thing, because why study when you can love him instead?

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[cutiekaijumuseum]

A little trivia for those that just got introduced to Ultraman thanks to Ultraman Rising

You know that part where baby kaiju Emi is shown a kids cartoon with an earworm of a song?

That cartoon is real!! It's called Kaiju Step Wandabada and it stars cute kid versions of different monsters from different Ultraman series (mostly the original from 1966 wich Rising is also based on). The opening shown in the movie is in stop-motion while the cartoon itself is in 2D.

The Ultraman heroes don't appear in person, but bizarrely enough they seem to exist as fictional superheroes in-universe, with the kaiju kids having toys and dolls of them. It's no surprise Emi liked it so much! She would be right at home in this show!

The episodes are 5 minutes long, there are two seasons of 26 episodes each for a total of 52. The official Tsurubaya channel has the first episodes of both seasons uploaded...

...but the rest were sadly only up for a limited time cuz gotta sell the dvds. What is officially available online right now is a series of educational shorts.

Some years ago Marvel Comics got the rights to make Ultraman comics and made a mini-series called "The Rise of Ultraman" (no relation), and these Kaiju Step designs got to appear as part of in-universe instructional videos about dealing with monsters and aliens:

So let's have a quick rundow on the little monsters and where each comes from:

Pigmon or Pig-chan is the main protagonist and new kid in town (forest). This coral-looking guy is one of the most iconic and recurring ultra monsters and the go-to kid-friendly one, as he stood out among the original set of kaiju for being friendly and heroic (as well as human-sized). He has the bad habit of dying in many of his apperences but fortunately that's not the case here.

Kanegon or Kane-chan is the second member of the protagonist trio, and the most energic and simple-minded. A coin purse monster that eats money, and usually a human kid under a curse. He actually pre-dates Ultraman, appearing in the black-and-white anthology series Ultra Q wich had monsters but not superheroes. Fortunately this one doesn't need to eat money and was born a kaiju.

Alien Dada or Dada-chan is the reliable but temperamental inventor of the trio, he dreams of building a rocket ship. One of the most iconic villains from the original 1966 Ultraman (and that's saying a lot), it's a weird alien with weird powers looking for human subjects for his weird experiments, like testing his shrinking ray. He really earns the name of a weird art movement.

Gomora or Gomo-chan is probably the most iconic ultra kaiju of all. Remember how in Ultraman Rising there is this whole sequence where the dad omniously talks about fighting him? There is a good reason for that. Gomora had the only two-parter in the original 1966 series, and was able to actually defeat Ultraman in their first figh. He's essentially Godzilla if he lived underground rather than underwater (He's even been a good guy and had a robot counterpart). Here, however, Gomora is a chill guy who's passionate about agriculture. (btw, you can also spot Gomora in Rising on a screen around an hour and eight minutes into the movie).

Red King or just Red is another iconic ultra dino, that looks like corn. In the show he's brute but well-meaning, and has a friendly sport rivalry with Kemur-chan. But in the Ultraman series he's a sadistic and murderous bully who beats up weaker monsters but gets his butt kicked rather easily by Ultraman (although more recent incarnations have have been more positive, both in his fighting ability and sometimes even becoming a loving father). (and yes, you are right, he's not red).

Jamira or Jami-chan is a passionate archeologist and fossil collector in the show, whereas in the original Ultraman he was a human astronaut that got infected by a virus. He hasn't appeared much beyond his debut... but doesn't need to, as his episode was very memorable in how sad and tragic it was. I can't imagine the target audience's whiplash seeing this cute creature one moment collecting fossils and the next having a horrible sad death. I guess one could say the same for most of the characters, but this one takes the cake.

Miclas or Mic-chan is the youngest character, a baby, and loves bugs. He was one of the "capsule monsters" from the second ultra series, Ultra Seven. Sometimes the titular ultra wouldn't be able to fight himself so he would summon up to three very loyal monsters from little capsules to do the fighting instead (or at least buy some time, they weren't very strong). One was a triceratops, another was a robot bird, but the most iconic had to be Miclas because really, what even is he? Some kind of bull toad hybrid? (By the way, fun fact, the capsule monsters were one of the inspirations for Pokemon).

King Joe (yes, that's his name) or Joe-chan is a robot controlled by alien invaders and is to Ultra Seven what Gomora is to the original Ultraman: he's the subject of a two-parter and was able to beat the hero to a pulp at first, made harder to fight by his ability to divide into three flying parts. Fortunately this Joe is very shy and very friendly.

Eleking or Ele-chan from Ultra Seven is another of the "mascot" ultra kaiju. If two ultra kaiju have to appear in anything, chances are they will be Gomora and Eleking. In fact, in Ultraman Rising you can see Eleking in a monitor right next to Gomora (around an hour and eight minutes in). It's a dinosaur-like eel monster with (of course) electric powers, and the enforcer of an all-female bug-like alien species set to conquer the earth, that are nonetheless very affectionate towards their pet-weapon dino-eel. The fact that Eleking's masters are always women may explain why the Kaiju Step one is a very femenine and elegant girl despite having King in the name, though no less dangerously electric.

Alien Guts or Guts-chan here is a very little alien bird child who can multiply into three separate individuals to cause all the destruction in their sincere attempts to help out. The original duo from Ultra Seven meanwhile are ruthless alien invaders that are infamous for freaking crucifying the aforementioned hero, leading to decades of japanese media having christian imagery for the sake of looking cool, most notably Neon Genesis Evangelion, because these birds did it first and it looked so cool.

Alien Kemur or Kemu-chan is a very agile alien that comes from the distant future of 2020 to consume humans and extend his lifespan. Here he's a friendly but competitive ninja from the present, and has a rivalry with Red King being the speed to his strenght. Like Kanegon, he pre-dates Ultraman, being from Ultra Q.

Motokureron or Kureron-chan originates from the whimsical, fairy-tale like Ultraman Taro. A kid found him as a baby and fed him until he grew to giant size, but when the kid couldn't feed him anymore he turned destructive; fortunately he was easy to pacify with food, including the kind that made him shrink. He retains his glutonny and clumsiness in Kaiju Step, often doing the bad thing (tm) so the others can teach the kids in the audience why you shouldn't do the bad thing (tm).

Nova or No-chan originates from the surprisingly dark Ultraman Leo. This creepy and bizarre ghost-like alien created a red mist that made people go crazy, and manipulated a kid with illusions of his deceased family, and under his cloth there are lots of tentacles and a scythe. So of course, in Kaiju Step she's a happy and energic little girl that loves to sing.

Mugera or Muge-chan is by far the most obscure kaiju of the cast. She's from the 2001 series Ultraman Cosmos, the one where the titular hero protects monsters instead of fighting them. Mugera is an ET-like cryptid that lives in an amusement park that only kids can see, with the ability to fix toys and heal wounds with her magic. After the amusement park closes down she phones home and the protagonists have to protect her from the goverment wich is a little too eager to shoot down the UFO that came to pick her up. In Kaiju Step she likes reading and plants.

And that was your daily dose of kaiju sugar, that may be overdose because you probably already met Emi. Cheers!

[werewolf-witchboy]

😇✨ Sugar Daddy Lucifer Morningstar X Gender Neutral Sugar Baby Reader ✨😇

SUMMARY: you're the king of Hell’s favorite influencer and he wants to make it very clear how much he appreciates you and loves your content, thus starting a transactional relationship between the two of you that slowly turns into something more.

WARNING: light stalker stuff going on for a little bit lol ┐(￣ヮ￣)┌ also some sugar baby catching feelings for sugar daddy nonsense

(also- i'm using the terms "sugar daddy" and "sugar baby" pretty loosely, and there are no sexual transactions in this story)

NOTE: I keep going back and forth between saying “livestream” and “video,” so just assume that in the story y/n mainly does livestreams and uploads them as videos later.

•You started out as a humble influencer in Hell.

•What you didn't know is that you happened to be the favorite influencer of THE king of Hell Lucifer himself.

•I personally headcanon that when this man finds something he likes, he REALLY obsesses over it.

•I can imagine him laying in bed with a cozy blanket and a snack, kicking his knees while watching your latest upload.

•Not gonna lie Luci got kinda stalker-ish in order to find you and know you in person.

•He is the king after all, so therefore he has ways to find and keep track of his people.

•It started as him sending you money anonymously as a way to give his appreciation to his favorite content creator.

•You'd sometimes get small donations here and there from different people, but you definitely noticed the big donations you'd consistently get. Even though they were all anonymous, you assumed they were all from the same person because it was usually always an absurd amount of money to donate to an influencer.

•While livestreaming one day you mentioned that you wanted to find out who this anonymous donor was and somehow do something special to thank them.

•Lucifer NEVER misses one of your livestreams and felt extra fanboyish thinking about his fav influencer doing something special specifically for him.

•He knew he couldn't just message you and say “I'm your anonymous donor” because he didn't have a public account. If he were to message with his anonymous account saying that he's the king of Hell you'd obviously think he was lying.

•HERE is where his stalker era starts. 💀

•Luci comes up with this convoluted plan that actually somehow ends up working exactly the way he wanted.

•He happens to “find” you at a place he knew is your favorite café just outside of Cannibal Town.

•He pretends to just be casually walking by (well, as “casual” as the king of Hell can be)

”Oh hey! I've seen a few of your videos, I like your content!”

•You're absolutely baffled that the man in front of you praising your content is Lucifer himself.

•Lucifer invites himself to sit down with you, and how could you possibly refuse.

(He knows using his status to get what he wants is a lil problematic, but he easily pushes any guilt aside cuz he gets to be in your presence. He honestly wonders why he hadn't done this sooner.)

•He uses this opportunity to ask you a bunch of questions he's always wanted to ask, as if this were his personal Q&A with you. You happily answer his questions and even ask your own, eager to get to know Lucifer.

•Eventually he asks the main question that'll set his plan into place.

“Have you ever done any collabs?”

Of course he already knows the answer is no.

•”I've never asked anyone to collaborate with me, I'm a little insecure and automatically think they'll say no.”

•”I'm shocked! I'd personally love to be in one of your videos!” He boasts.

•Even though you've been talking for a while now, your brain still hasn't been fully able to compute that you're not only talking to Lucifer Morningstar, he says he enjoys your content, AND he just said he'd like to be in one of your videos.

•”Wha- I'm sure you've got so much more important things to do!”

•”I've got spare time!”

•When he realized he was probably starting to sound desperate, he backed it up a bit;

“I'm not trying to invite myself into one of your videos, but what I am saying is that IF I were one of those people you were to ask then I'd definitely accept your offer!” He twiddled his fingers nervously under the table, his smile never faltering.

•”oH I mean I do want to ask you- I am asking you!” You become just as nervous as Lucifer, fumbling over your words a bit.

•Before you can say anything else he raises from his seat and extends his hand out in agreement. “Sounds good to me!” You quickly stand to take his hand and shake it.

•The two of you calm down a bit and start discussing times and dates, even though Lucifer knows he's just going to accept whatever day you suggest and cancel any plans that he might already have for that day.

•Lucifer's little plot went perfectly.

•The day came when Luci got to feature in a video with his fav influencer.

•The video blew up super quickly, you gained a whole new wave of fame.

•Not only was he in the video with you, but he also got to spend the whole day with you.

•Somewhere along the way he kind of forgot that he was with his fav influencer and started to feel more like he was just hanging with a friend…which, honestly, he hasn't really had a friend in a long time.

•Also- you had noticed that during the stream with Lucifer you didn't get any donations from your special anonymous donor who never missed any of your previous streams.

•THIS MOMENT is where Lucifer knows he could potentially ruin everything with you, but he wants to be honest.

•He tells you that he's the anonymous donor, and that he can prove it with receipts. He admits that he didn't just casually watch your content like he said previously, and that he's actually a super huge fan. He doesn't go into detail about the stalker-ish extent he went to find you though.

•You take a second to process everything.

•I think if it were any other man you'd probably be a bit weirded out. It's definitely mainly because he's the king of Hell, but also he's just so charming that it's kinda hard for you not to be flattered.

•Now the king of Hell is in your phone contacts and you've got a viral video of the two of you together that shows literally everyone that you know him, it all feels so surreal.

•You still get donations from him on your streams, they still say they're anonymous but you know it's him.

•Lucifer calls you ALL THE TIME, usually to talk about absolutely nothing and everything at the same time.

•Suddenly he started showing up at your door with random gifts. Usually things that you mention very briefly on social media.

•Like one day you posted a pic on your story of a cute pair of shoes that you'd like to have, and the next day he's on your doorstep with a shoebox in hand.

•This escalated to him taking you out to dinner quite frequently, and he'd always go out of his way to reserve a special private area or even book out the whole restaurant.

•Then he started inviting you to visit him. Movie nights at his place, or he wants to show you something new he made.

•Eventually it turned into you staying the night at his place sometimes. You'd fall asleep during movie night and he didn't wanna wake you, or your home is just so far away and he didn't wanna let you go home in the dark.

•THEN it became you staying at his place for multiple days in a row, and sometimes it felt like you practically lived with him.

•You’d always ask Lucifer what you could do to repay him for all of the stuff he does for you, and he just replies that your company is enough to satisfy him and when you aren't around he still gets to watch your new videos.

•After getting to know the king of Hell over the span of almost a full year, you've come to realize that he was a pretty lonely man before you met him.

•He almost never talks to his own wife, whom you aren't even sure is his wife anymore. He rarely talks to his daughter, and is terrified of not being a good enough dad to her. Most of his time is spent home alone if he isn't tending to somekind of personal royal business.

•You knew Lucifer meant it when he told you that your company is enough to repay him.

•Somewhere down the line, you've started catching yourself contemplating your feelings for him.

•Don't get me wrong, he's always made you swoon and get flustered. It's really hard not to when a handsome man is literally handing you everything you want on a golden platter.

•There are much more raw moments you have with him, when you're just sitting on the couch together and you start to think about your possible future together.

•You usually end up getting slapped with reality when you remember who it is you're looking at. The king of Hell.

•Being in a relationship with a man of such status could never be in the cards for you. You're aware that you're basically just his sugar baby and that's probably all you'll ever be.

•You were definitely fine with the transactional relationship between the two of you, in fact you enjoyed it.

•Now, with these feelings constantly creeping up on you it made everything so much more complicated, and it made it hard for you to be around him knowing you'll never be anything more to him than a sugar baby.

•Lucifer is a sweet man, but you know there's another side of him that's a powerful king. His wife was an equally powerful queen. You're not enough for him, he just wants someone to keep him company.

•What you don't know is that while you're sitting there on the couch next to him having an inner depressive episode, he's got a box in his pocket that he's waiting for the perfect moment to whip out.

•In the box is a flashy custom engagement ring that he wants everyone to be able to see from a mile away.

•That man wants to make you officially his and he has been trying his hardest to make that VERY clear.

•You're just kinda insecure and don't think high enough of yourself. ಥ⌣ಥ

[hookhausenschips]

Butterflies {OP81}

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Summary: Amidst past heartbreak and fear of vulnerability, Y/N gradually allows herself to fall for Oscar, whose patience and sincerity offer a promising chance at love, revealing that the journey of trust and commitment is worth the risk.

Warnings: themes of emotional vulnerability, past trauma, fear of intimacy, struggles/uncertainties of opening up to someone new, and the complexities of trust in relationships.

Join my taglist by clicking here or shoot me a message!

Loosely based on this song

you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

I don't wanna fall so fast

But I'm open

I’m 24, young, and full of potential, yet I've already learned some tough lessons in love. Being a black woman, navigating the complexities of relationships hasn't always been easy. I’ve had my heart broken more times than I care to admit, and each time, it left a scar that hasn’t quite healed. The people I trusted with my deepest emotions didn’t treat them with the care they deserved, and now, it’s hard not to feel jaded.

There was Darren, who made me believe in forever but disappeared when things got tough. Then there was Camille, who said all the right things but never really meant them. Each of them left me with a little less faith in love, and a little more doubt in myself. I keep asking myself, "Why do I always end up hurt?" and "Is there something wrong with me?"

Lately, I’ve been trying to rebuild—focus on myself, get my confidence back. But deep down, there’s a yearning that I can’t quite shake, a desire to find that connection again. To love and be loved, but this time, without the heartbreak. Yet, every time I think about letting someone new in, my stomach twists with anxiety.

They always say that good things never last

And I know 'cause I've been broken

One evening, while sitting on my bed, I scrolled through old messages from past relationships, the ones that used to make me smile. Now, they just remind me of broken promises. I whispered to myself, "I can’t do this again. I can’t let myself fall for someone just to end up picking up the pieces later."

But there’s a part of me—a small, stubborn part—that still believes love is worth the risk. And that part scares me the most because what if I’m wrong? What if I let someone in again and end up more broken than before?

My friends say, "You deserve someone who treats you right, someone who values you." I know they’re right, but how do I open up to that possibility when my past keeps haunting me? How do I let go of the fear that history will repeat itself?

And that’s where I was—stuck between wanting to love and fearing the pain that might come with it—when Oscar came into my life.

I'm tryin' to protect my heart

But you're making it so hard

It was a random Tuesday, and I had no idea that day would change anything. I wasn’t looking for love, not even close. My focus was on work, my friends, and trying to enjoy life on my own terms. But then, there he was—Oscar Piastri.

I remember the first time I saw him. It was at a small coffee shop around the corner from my apartment. I had just picked up my usual order, a caramel latte with an extra shot of espresso, and was about to leave when I accidentally bumped into someone.

“Whoa, sorry about that,” I said, looking up to see who I’d almost drenched in coffee.

He smiled, a warm, easy smile that immediately put me at ease. “No worries, I could use a little caffeine splash to wake me up.”

I laughed, a bit nervously, and noticed how his eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’m glad I could help, I guess?”

He chuckled and extended his hand. “I’m Oscar, by the way. I think I’ve seen you around here before.”

I hesitated for a split second before shaking his hand. “Y/N. And yeah, this is my go-to spot. Best coffee in town.”

“Agreed. Though I have to say, you’ve got a pretty intense order there. Tough day?”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just the usual grind. You?”

“Same here. But this,” he held up his cup, “is the highlight of my day so far.”

We both laughed, and for a moment, everything felt easy. There was something about him that intrigued me, something different from what I was used to. He wasn’t trying too hard, wasn’t putting on a show. He was just… Oscar.

And I guess it's safe to say

You take my pain away

Over the next few days, I kept running into him—at the coffee shop, at the grocery store, even at the park where I liked to jog. It was like the universe was nudging me toward him, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to listen.

One afternoon, after another “coincidental” meeting at the coffee shop, he asked me to sit with him. I almost said no, wanting to stick to my usual routine, but something in his eyes made me pause.

“Just for a few minutes,” he said, his voice soft and inviting. “I promise I won’t keep you long.”

I found myself nodding. “Okay, a few minutes.”

As we sat down, the conversation flowed effortlessly. We talked about everything and nothing—our favorite movies, the best places to eat in the city, and even the little quirks we had. I learned that Oscar was a bit of a perfectionist, always striving to be the best at whatever he did, but he had a laid-back side that balanced it out. He loved racing, which didn’t surprise me, but what caught me off guard was how he spoke about it—with passion, but also with a humility that was refreshing.

At one point, I mentioned my love for books, and his eyes lit up. “You’re a reader? That’s awesome. What’s your favorite genre?”

“Anything that makes me feel something,” I replied. “I love stories that are real, that don’t shy away from the messy parts of life.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I get that. I think the best stories are the ones that make you feel like you’re not alone, like someone out there gets what you’re going through.”

There was a sincerity in his words that made me want to know more about him, even though I was still hesitant. I couldn’t deny that I was drawn to him, that there was something about Oscar that made me feel… safe. But at the same time, a voice in the back of my mind reminded me of the walls I’d built, the ones that had protected me from getting hurt again.

As the conversation wound down, Oscar looked at me with a smile that was both gentle and knowing. “I’m really glad we got to talk, Y/N. Maybe we could do this again sometime? No pressure, just… whenever you feel like it.”

I hesitated, the familiar apprehension bubbling up. But then I found myself nodding. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Great,” he said, his smile widening. “I’ll see you around then.”

As I walked away, I couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, like maybe—just maybe—this was something worth exploring. But I was still cautious, still unsure if I could let myself fall for someone again. Only time would tell if Oscar was different, if he was someone I could trust with my heart.

And I just wanna hold you all night long

Whenever I'm around you, nothing's wrong I'm hoping that you'll always be around

The days turned into weeks, and before I knew it, Oscar and I had developed a comfortable routine. We’d meet up for coffee or grab dinner at one of the spots we’d discovered together. There was a natural rhythm to our conversations, a back-and-forth that felt easy, almost effortless. But with that ease came something I hadn’t expected—the butterflies.

At first, it was just a slight flutter whenever I saw his name pop up on my phone. A quick text from him, like, “Hey, thinking about trying that new sushi place tonight. You in?” would make my heart skip a beat. I’d find myself smiling at the screen, trying to keep cool as I typed back, “Sounds good. What time?”

But it wasn’t just the texts. It was the way he looked at me when we were talking, like I was the only person in the room. One night, we were sitting in the park, watching the sunset after a long day. Oscar had brought a blanket, and we were sprawled out on the grass, just talking about everything and nothing.

You got me on a high, I don't wanna come down And I love it, I love it (these butterflies)

Yeah I love it, I love it (I'm on a high)

Yeah, I love it, I love it And I just wanna love on you (ooh)

“Do you ever just look at the sky and think about how small we are?” he asked, his voice soft and contemplative.

I turned to him, surprised by the question. “Sometimes. It’s kind of overwhelming, though, isn’t it? Thinking about how big the universe is and how tiny our problems are in comparison.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, his eyes still fixed on the sky. “But I think it’s kind of comforting, too. Like, no matter what happens, the world keeps turning, the sun keeps setting, and there’s always a new day.”

I looked at him then, really looked at him, and felt that familiar flutter in my chest. It wasn’t just the words he said; it was the way he said them, with a quiet assurance that made me feel like everything would be okay.

Ever since you crossed my path

Everything is different

You always know just how to make me laugh

You got me all up in my feelings

“You’re a bit of a philosopher, aren’t you?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

He laughed, a low, warm sound that made my heart flip. “Maybe a little. But seriously, Y/N, it’s moments like this that make me appreciate the simple things. Like just being here with you.”

My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. His words were simple, but they meant so much more than that. I could feel the butterflies intensifying, that mix of excitement and nervousness churning in my stomach.

“Yeah,” I finally managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I get that.”

And then there were the little things he did that made me feel seen, really seen. Like the time we were at a bookstore, and I was browsing through the fiction section. I mentioned offhandedly that I loved a particular author but hadn’t read their latest book yet. A few days later, Oscar showed up with a wrapped package.

And as much as I love the feeling I hate it, it gets me frustrated

Wanna say just how I feel

“What’s this?” I asked, curious.

He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Just open it.”

I tore off the wrapping paper to find the book I’d mentioned. My eyes widened in surprise, and I looked up at him, speechless.

“You said you hadn’t read it yet,” he said, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I figured you might like it.”

My heart swelled with a mix of emotions—gratitude, joy, and something deeper that I wasn’t ready to name yet. “Oscar, this is… thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he replied, his voice softening. “But I wanted to.”

It was in moments like these that I started to feel those butterflies taking over. He made me laugh like no one else could, like the time we tried to cook dinner together and ended up burning half the food. We were both hopeless in the kitchen, but instead of getting frustrated, Oscar just laughed, his laughter infectious.

“Well, I guess we know what we’re not good at,” he said, shaking his head as he surveyed the mess we’d made.

“Yeah,” I laughed, wiping away a tear. “But at least we didn’t burn the whole place down.”

He grinned and bumped his shoulder against mine. “Small victories, right?”

But it wasn’t just the laughter. It was the way he was there for me, supporting me in ways I hadn’t expected. Like the time I was having a rough day at work, feeling overwhelmed and stressed. I hadn’t told him much, just that I was having a hard time. Later that evening, he showed up at my door with a tub of my favorite ice cream and a stack of movies.

“I figured you could use a break,” he said with that easy smile of his. “And maybe some company?”

I couldn’t help but smile back, feeling the butterflies fluttering stronger than ever. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

But don't know how you would take it

Why do you do what you do to me?

He chuckled, a little embarrassed. “Just trying to be a good friend.”

But the way he looked at me when he said it, I knew there was more to it than that. And that was when the nervous excitement hit me hardest. I was falling for him—harder and faster than I’d expected—and it terrified me.

As the days with Oscar grew longer, so did the feelings I was trying to keep in check. Those butterflies that started as a gentle flutter had turned into a storm inside me, making it harder to ignore what was happening. I was falling for him, and it scared me to death.

One evening, after another perfect day with Oscar, I sat alone in my apartment, staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I could see it in my own eyes—how happy I was, how alive I felt. But underneath that happiness was a growing fear, a fear I couldn’t shake no matter how hard I tried.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” I whispered to my reflection, frustration lacing my voice. “Why are you letting yourself feel this way again?”

I thought about the last time I’d let myself fall, how it had ended in tears and broken promises. I had sworn to myself that I wouldn’t go through that again, that I’d protect my heart at all costs. But here I was, teetering on the edge of another fall, and I couldn’t decide whether to jump or pull back.

When I was with Oscar, everything felt right. He made me laugh, he made me feel seen, and he made me believe—if only for a moment—that maybe this time could be different. But when I was alone, the doubts would creep in. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if I was just setting myself up for another heartbreak?

I promised myself I wouldn't fall

But every time I see you, I just wanna risk it all

One night, we were sitting on his couch, a movie playing in the background. I was barely paying attention to the screen, too caught up in my own thoughts. Oscar must have noticed because he nudged me gently.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft and concerned.

I forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

But even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t true. I wasn’t tired—I was scared. Scared of letting him in, scared of what it would mean if I did. I wanted to tell him, to lay it all out there, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I just sat there, feeling the frustration build inside me.

Oscar turned to face me, his brow furrowed in that adorable way he did when he was trying to figure something out. “Are you sure? You seem… I don’t know, a little distant tonight.”

I bit my lip, the battle raging inside me. Part of me wanted to tell him everything, to spill out all the fears and doubts that were eating me up inside. But another part of me, the part that had been hurt before, told me to keep quiet, to protect myself.

“It’s nothing,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “Just… a lot on my mind.”

He didn’t push, but I could see the concern in his eyes, and that only made me feel worse. Here was this amazing guy who was nothing but kind and patient with me, and I couldn’t even bring myself to be honest with him. The frustration gnawed at me, making my heart ache.

Later that night, after Oscar had walked me home, I sat on my bed, my mind racing. Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t I just tell him how I felt? I grabbed a pillow and hugged it to my chest, trying to quiet the turmoil inside me.

I closed my eyes, remembering a conversation I’d had with my best friend not too long ago. She had told me, “You have to take risks in love, Y/N. You can’t protect yourself from everything, or you’ll never really experience it.”

Her words echoed in my mind, and I knew she was right. But knowing and doing were two very different things. I wanted to take the risk, I wanted to let myself fall for Oscar, but every time I got close, the fear would pull me back.

The next time we hung out, the tension was still there, lurking beneath the surface. We were at a small, cozy restaurant, sharing a plate of fries and talking about nothing in particular. Oscar was his usual charming self, making me laugh with some ridiculous story about his latest racing practice. But even as I laughed, the frustration was bubbling up inside me.

“You know,” he said, dipping a fry in ketchup, “I’ve been thinking about going on a road trip. Just get in the car and drive, no destination in mind. What do you think?”

I smiled, trying to focus on the conversation. “That sounds amazing. I’ve always wanted to do something like that.”

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “Maybe you could come with me. We could just take off, leave everything behind for a while. What do you say?”

My heart leaped at the idea, but then the doubts crashed in like a tidal wave. What if I said yes? What if we spent all that time together, and I ended up falling even harder, only for him to not feel the same way? The thought terrified me, and I felt the words catch in my throat.

“I… I don’t know,” I stammered, trying to keep my voice steady. “I mean, it sounds great, but…”

“But?” he prompted gently, leaning in closer.

I looked down at my hands, fiddling with the napkin on my lap. “It’s just… I don’t want to mess things up, you know? What if…”

He reached across the table and placed his hand over mine, his touch warm and reassuring. “Hey, whatever it is, you can talk to me. I’m not going anywhere.”

His words should have comforted me, but instead, they made the frustration even worse. How could I explain that the thing I was most afraid of was exactly that—that he wouldn’t go anywhere, that he’d stay, and I’d end up falling too deep?

And baby, yeah, I know it ain't right

But the chemistry we have is so hard to fight

I took a deep breath, trying to find the courage to speak. “Oscar, I… I like spending time with you. A lot. But sometimes, I get scared, you know? I’ve been hurt before, and I don’t want to go through that again.”

His expression softened, and he squeezed my hand gently. “I get it. I really do. But I’m not those other people, Y/N. I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I know,” I whispered, my voice barely holding steady. “But it’s still hard. I want to let go, to just… be with you, but I’m afraid of what might happen if I do.”

Oscar looked at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. Then he nodded, his grip on my hand tightening just a little. “It’s okay to be scared. But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We can take this as slow as you need to. I’m not in a rush.”

His words were exactly what I needed to hear, but even as he spoke them, I could feel the frustration gnawing at me. I wanted to believe him, I wanted to trust that things could be different this time, but the fear still lingered, a shadow that wouldn’t quite go away.

As we walked out of the restaurant that night, his arm around my shoulders, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions—gratitude for his understanding, frustration with myself for holding back, and a deep, aching longing for the security I so desperately wanted. I knew I had to make a choice soon, to either let go and take the leap, or pull back and protect my heart. But the decision wasn’t easy, and the battle between vulnerability and protection raged on inside me, unresolved.

The tension had been building for weeks, like a tightly wound spring ready to snap. Every time Oscar and I spent time together, I could feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. I knew I had to say something, to finally let him know how I felt, but fear had kept me silent. That all changed one evening when the moment of truth arrived, unplanned and unexpected.

And I just wanna hold you all night long

Whenever I'm around you, nothing's wrong I'm hoping that you'll always be around

It was a Friday night, and Oscar had invited me to watch one of his races on TV. We’d done this a few times before, but this time felt different. Maybe it was the way he seemed extra excited, or maybe it was just the way my heart pounded every time I looked at him. Either way, I knew something was going to happen that night.

We were sitting on his couch, the glow of the TV casting soft shadows across the room. The race was in full swing, but I was only half-watching, too caught up in my own thoughts. Oscar, on the other hand, was fully engrossed, his eyes glued to the screen, a smile playing on his lips as he watched the cars speed around the track.

“You’re really into this, huh?” I teased, trying to lighten my own mood.

He grinned, not taking his eyes off the screen. “You have no idea. There’s just something about the adrenaline, the speed… it’s like nothing else.”

I smiled, but the butterflies were back, and they weren’t the good kind this time. I felt a knot in my stomach, a sense of urgency that I couldn’t ignore any longer. I had to say something—tonight.

You got me on a high, I don't wanna come down And I love it, I love it (these butterflies)

Said I love it, I love it (I'm on a high)

Love (And I just wanna love on)

And I just wanna love on you

As the race neared its end, Oscar finally turned to me, his expression full of excitement. “That was incredible, wasn’t it? I swear, every time I watch, it just gets better.”

“Yeah, it was great,” I replied, but my voice was distant, my mind elsewhere.

He noticed immediately, his smile fading a little. “Hey, what’s up? You seem… off. Did something happen?”

I hesitated, my heart racing faster than any of the cars we’d just watched. This was it, the moment I’d been dreading and anticipating all at once. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but the words caught in my throat.

“Y/N, talk to me,” Oscar urged, his voice gentle but firm. He reached out and took my hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

I looked down at our intertwined hands, the sight of them together giving me a strange mix of comfort and anxiety. I knew I couldn’t keep this to myself any longer. I had to let him in, or I’d lose my chance.

“Oscar, I… I need to tell you something,” I began, my voice trembling slightly.

Just wanna love, just wanna love on ya (uh, uh) Just wanna love, just wanna love on ya (uh, uh)

Ay, ay (uh, uh)

He squeezed my hand, his eyes locked onto mine. “I’m listening.”

I took another deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. “I’ve been holding back… a lot. And it’s not because I don’t enjoy spending time with you—I do. More than I can even explain. But the truth is, I’m scared. I’m scared of what might happen if I let myself really fall for you.”

Oscar’s expression softened, but he didn’t say anything, just letting me speak.

“I’ve been hurt before, Oscar,” I continued, my voice thick with emotion. “And every time I’ve let myself fall, it’s ended badly. I don’t want to go through that again. But at the same time, I can’t deny what I’m feeling. Being with you makes me happy, really happy, but it also terrifies me. I don’t want to get hurt again, and I don’t want to hurt you either.”

And I just wanna know you would catch me if I fall

If you tell me yeah, boy I might just risk it all If you tell me no, it's okay, then I will leave (ooh)

I hope you feel the same, you're the only one I see

I see, I see

The room was silent except for the hum of the TV, and for a moment, I was afraid I’d said too much, that I’d scared him away. But then Oscar reached out, gently lifting my chin so I was looking directly into his eyes.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice steady and reassuring, “I can’t promise that nothing will ever go wrong. I can’t promise that I’ll never make a mistake. But what I can promise is that I’ll always be honest with you, and I’ll always do my best to protect your heart.”

My breath hitched at his words, the sincerity in his eyes breaking through some of the walls I’d put up. “I’m not asking for perfection, Oscar. I just… I just need to know that if I take this leap, you’ll be there to catch me.”

He nodded, his thumb brushing gently over the back of my hand. “I will be. And I want you to know something, too—I’m scared, too. Scared of messing this up, scared of not being what you need. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try, right? Because what we have… it feels real, Y/N. And I think it’s worth the risk.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I blinked them back, a mix of relief and hope swelling in my chest. “It does feel real,” I whispered, my voice shaky. “And I want to try, Oscar. I really do. I’m just… I’m afraid of falling too hard, too fast.”

He smiled then, a soft, understanding smile that made my heart ache in the best way possible. “Then we’ll take it slow. We’ll figure it out together, one step at a time. You don’t have to do this alone.”

I nodded, finally allowing myself to lean into the feelings I’d been holding back. “Okay,” I said, my voice steadier now. “Let’s try.”

Oscar pulled me into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around me in a way that made me feel safe, like maybe—just maybe—I’d found something worth holding onto. As I rested my head against his chest, I could hear the steady beat of his heart, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a sense of peace.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice muffled against his shirt.

“For what?” he asked, his hand gently rubbing my back.

“For being patient with me. For understanding.”

He pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head. “I’m just glad you trusted me enough to tell me how you’re feeling. We’re in this together now, okay?”

“Okay,” I whispered back, my eyes closing as I allowed myself to relax in his arms.

The fear was still there, lingering at the edges of my mind, but it didn’t feel as overwhelming now. For the first time, I felt like maybe, just maybe, I could let go of the past and embrace whatever the future held with Oscar by my side. And as we sat there together, the tension that had been building for so long finally began to melt away, replaced by a sense of hope and possibility.

The night after our conversation, I couldn't stop replaying everything in my head. I had bared my heart to Oscar, and instead of retreating, he’d held on, promising to take things slow and be there for me. It was a step forward, but the fear still lingered, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I knew that what happened next would either solidify my trust in him or shatter everything we’d been building.

Just wanna love, just wanna love on ya

A few days later, Oscar invited me over for dinner. He had planned to cook—something simple, he’d promised, since we both knew his culinary skills weren’t exactly top-notch. But it wasn’t the dinner that had me on edge; it was the feeling that this night was going to be a turning point for us.

When I arrived at his apartment, I was greeted by the smell of something delicious wafting through the air. Oscar met me at the door, a slightly frazzled but excited look on his face.

“I hope you’re ready for the best—or at least, the least disastrous—pasta you’ve ever had,” he joked, stepping aside to let me in.

I smiled, feeling a little lighter. “As long as it’s edible, I’m happy.”

We sat down to dinner, and to my surprise, the pasta was actually really good. We laughed and talked like we always did, but there was a new layer to our conversation now—an openness that hadn’t been there before. Every time our eyes met, I felt a warmth spread through me, a connection that was deepening with every word we exchanged.

After dinner, we moved to the couch, the remnants of our meal forgotten on the kitchen counter. Oscar put on some music, something soft and soothing, and we settled in, his arm draped around my shoulders. For a while, we just sat there in comfortable silence, the music filling the space between us.

“Y/N,” he said after a while, his voice low and serious, “I’ve been thinking about what you said the other night. About being scared and wanting to take things slow.”

I tensed slightly, my heart rate picking up. “Yeah?”

He nodded, his thumb gently rubbing circles on my shoulder. “I just want you to know that I’m not going anywhere. I meant what I said—I’m here, and I’m in this with you. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

His words washed over me like a balm, soothing the anxiety that had been gnawing at me for so long. But there was still a part of me that needed more, that needed to see if he was really willing to stand by me, even when things got tough.

“Oscar,” I began hesitantly, “I appreciate that. I really do. But… what if things get hard? What if I freak out or push you away? I’m not always good at this, at letting people in.”

He turned slightly to face me, his eyes serious and full of warmth. “Then I’ll be here, waiting. I’m not going to push you to move faster than you’re ready for, but I won’t let you push me away, either. We’ve got something good here, Y/N, and I’m not about to give up on it.”

My chest tightened, emotion swelling up in me. It was everything I wanted to hear, but there was still that small, lingering doubt, the voice in my head whispering that it was too good to be true.

“What if… what if one day you wake up and realize you don’t want to do this anymore? That you don’t want to deal with my issues?”

He shook his head, his expression unwavering. “That’s not going to happen. I’m here because I want to be, because I care about you. We’re both going to have our moments—times when we’re scared or uncertain—but that’s part of it, right? It’s not about being perfect; it’s about being there for each other, even when things aren’t easy.”

His words hit me deep, breaking down some of the last barriers I’d been holding onto. I wanted to believe him, to trust that he meant every word. And the way he was looking at me now, with such sincerity and conviction, made it impossible not to.

“I’m trying, Oscar,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “I’m trying to let go of all the fear and just… be with you. But it’s hard.”

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting gently against mine. “I know it is. But you don’t have to do it alone. We’ll take it one day at a time, okay? No pressure, no rush. Just us, figuring it out together.”

I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath against my skin, the steady beat of his heart against mine. “Okay,” I breathed, finally allowing myself to let go of some of the fear I’d been holding onto. “One day at a time.”

We stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, the silence between us comfortable and reassuring. For the first time in a long while, I felt a sense of peace, a quiet hope that maybe—just maybe—I could trust in this, in us.

As the evening wore on, Oscar pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. “Do you want to stay tonight? No pressure, of course. We can just watch a movie or something.”

I hesitated, the old fears still whispering in the back of my mind, but they were quieter now, drowned out by the warmth and security I felt in his presence. “I’d like that,” I said softly, a small smile tugging at my lips. “I’d like that a lot.”

He smiled back, his eyes lighting up in that way that always made my heart skip a beat. “Good. I’ll go grab some blankets.”

As he got up to gather the blankets, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over me. This was new territory for me—allowing myself to be vulnerable, to trust someone else with my heart. But with Oscar, it didn’t feel as terrifying as it once had. It felt right.

Later, as we lay on the couch, wrapped up in blankets and each other’s arms, I felt the last of my apprehension melt away. This wasn’t about perfection or guarantees; it was about trust, about taking things one step at a time, together. And for the first time, I felt like maybe, just maybe, I could really do this.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Oscar murmured against my hair, his voice laced with contentment.

“Me too,” I whispered back, closing my eyes and letting myself drift off into the comfort of his embrace.

As I lay there, surrounded by the warmth of his arms, I knew that this was just the beginning. There would be more challenges ahead, more moments of fear and doubt, but for now, I was content to take things one day at a time, knowing that I wasn’t alone in this journey. And as long as Oscar was by my side, I knew I had something worth holding onto—something real, something that could last.

Just wanna love, just wanna love on ya (uh, uh)

Ay, ay (uh, uh)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚☽˚.⋆ *ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆ ‧₊˚ ⋅✈︎ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

OP81 Taglist: @tallrock35, @yourbane, @evie-119, @asparklysoul, @dhanihamidi, @ilivbullyingjeongin, @ggaslyp1, @cmleitora, @d3kstar

F1 Taglist: @tallrock35, @yourbane, @hiireadstuff, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @donteventry-itdude, @spookystitchery, @dhanihamidi, @decafmickey, @cmleitora, @d3kstar

[poly-alt-partner]

Hide and Seek - Colby Brock X Fem!Reader - Part 1

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You join Sam, Colby, and The Boys on an investigation of Geelong Gaol in Australia. After the intro of the video, Sam and Colby set up their first 'challenge' of the night - Hide and Seek! What happens when Colby finds you first?

Info: I did write a few parts that happened in the video (especially the beginning). Hopefully it's not a spoiler to anyone who hasn't watched the latest upload!

Warnings: Dark rooms, cussing, some spicy interactions with Colby😉(will be in part 2)

____________________________________________________________

While you weren't new to ghost hunting and investigating haunted locations, you had never been to a haunted prison like Geelong Gaol. With an estimated 500+ deaths on the grounds, it was no wonder that there would be activity in the once active cells and hallways. Although you were joined by more people than usual there was still an uneasy feeling in your gut.

Before going on tour with the guides and learning more about the history everyone met in the main hallway. For the introduction you and Colby followed Sam around the corner while Juicy, Narrator, Mully, Eddie, and Josh stayed by the stairs.

"Not only did we bring (y/n) to Australia with us..." Sam pointed the camera towards you as the three of you walked back down the hall. You smiled and waved quickly before Sam turned back towards the corridor.

"We are also here with The Boys!" You watched as the group leaned in close to one another and shouted in excitement. Despite being in such a creepy location everyone was hyped up and happy to be together. Seeing how everyone interacted and got along was comforting at least.

Sam pointed out that everyone (including you) were wearing black while he was in a bright orange jumper. After a few more minutes of talking and plugging the merch, Colby took the camera from Sam. Sam got a little more serious and turned towards the bigger group.

"Alright, who's the believer of the group?" Sam inquired towards the five men.

Eddie chimed in first. "I started off as a nonbeliever and I'm the biggest bitch in the whole group."

You couldn't help but laugh and nod to yourself. There were definitely times that you would have preferred to bounce from a location when things got serious. But in all honesty, who didn't have moments like that?

"I am very skeptical," Mully started. "But I also leave places being like 'How do we explain this?'"

So far Mully has definitely been the type to be spooked by any clear evidence. He also has a habit of telling things to 'f*ck off' when it's getting too real. You can't really blame him, though. It's still hard to believe some of the things you've experienced through the years.

"Before we get into any of the history, we do have a little challenge for you guys." Upon hearing this you glance over at Colby curiously, having not heard of this prior.

"So we're all gonna split up."

"Already?" Mully's voice pitches a little higher than normal.

"Before we know anything, everyone needs to isolate themselves and we are gonna play hide and seek."

Excuse me? I did not sign up for this. You exchange glances with Juicy and Narrator. They can also tell you didn't know about this. In spite of the new information Mully and Eddie started cracking jokes. However you weren't entirely confident with running around in such an unfamiliar place.

Sam continues to explain the challenge. "Winner of hide and seek gets to choose one person to do the first investigation in solitary confinement." The Boys groan and you can't help but agree with them. If I can't win, I hope the winner doesn't choose me to investigate alone.

"(Y/n) you can either do rock, paper, scissors to be a seeker or you can opt out to be someone that hides," Colby says, noticing how tense you seemed. You should honestly be used to challenges like these by now.

"I'll just hide so one of you two have to find me."

You see Colby smirk a little before turning back to Sam to see who would be seeking. As far as you knew, Colby always lost when they did rock, paper, scissors. But you noticed the glint in his eye and wondered if his losing streak would continue.

Initially Colby had won, meaning Sam would be seeker. However, he decided he wanted to try again to see if Colby would lose. Lo and behold, Colby lost again and was now designated seeker. Your heart raced a little at the thought of hiding alone in the dark and you kind of hoped to lose quickly. Losing the game was better than being alone for more than a few minutes.

As soon as everyone had their own cameras it was time to split up. Everyone started running to find the best hiding spot, including you. Eddie and Juicy seem to be shaking hands as you run past them and some of the display cases. You duck into a small room not far from them and crouch behind the door.

"Everyone ran ahead of me," You whisper to the camera. "If I'm lucky, Colby will just run past to investigate the cells." You glance around the small room at some text but decide that reading isn't a good idea right now. You decide to zoom in with the camera in case it's needed for the footage.

"Who's gonna be fucking found first?!" Colby's voice echoes around the building, causing you to cover your mouth and turn the camera back to you. You stifle a laugh as you hear Colby walking around, being a goofball. Honestly you wouldn't mind being found first but obviously you weren't going to give up that easily.

Listening intently you hear Colby getting closer, saying he heard laughter. You realize that he must have heard you laughing. You look into the camera with wide eyes and think about holding your breath. Somehow you just feel giddy and excited about playing this game, almost forgetting that you're in Geelong Gaol.

Too scared to talk and expose your hiding spot you put a finger to your lips and shake your head. There's no way I'm going to make it that easy on him.

It's almost impossible to not laugh as you hear Colby begin sniffing around audibly like a dog sniffing a trail. Luckily you hardly ever wear perfume so he wouldn't be able to actually 'sniff you out.'

The camera in your hand is still focused on you. You hold your breath as you hear his footsteps inching closer and closer.

______________________________________________________________

Aaaaand, that's part 1! I wanted to break it up because it was getting a little long. Let me know how it is so far!

[callme-holly]

Johnny Cade x Reader where they get into a little argument but they solve it all out at the end:)

'𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞' [𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 '𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭']

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - This isn't perfect and I'm so sorry. I'm trying to be better with my uploading but I've got some much to do lmaooo. Anyways, as always, hope ya'll enjoy!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 1.1k words

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - mild swearing !!

When you enter the Curtis home, the first thing you notice is Johnny curled up on the couch, knees tucked to his chest, his eyes dull and sad. His skin is noticeably paler than usual, his face is a patchwork of bruises and cuts, and he looks as if he hasn't slept for a while.  

He hardly reacts as you make your way around to the front of the couch, but it's clear from the way his eyes follow your movements that his attention has sharpened and that he’s acutely aware of your presence. You reach out a tentative hand with full intentions of running your fingers through his hair, only to see him tense and flinch at the movement. You withdraw almost instantly, freezing for a moment before lowering yourself onto the armrest beside him. 

“Johnny, is everything okay?” Your voice is quiet, almost as if you were addressing a wounded animal, which isn't very far off the truth when it comes to Johnny Cade. He's like a little puppy that has been kicked too many times; jumpy and skittish and so desperately broken down inside that sometimes you wonder how he can keep himself together at all. 

“Johnny?” You ask again, trying to get his attention this time.

What?” He mutters, his head still buried beneath his arms. He sounds exhausted; every syllable is a struggle. “What’d ya want?”

You hesitate for a moment, not entirely sure how to proceed. It’s clear he’s not too keen on the idea of talking to you, but if you don’t ask him soon, you might lose whatever chance you have of getting answers out of him altogether. “Is everything okay?” You try once more, and Johnny huffs out a breath, sounding even more defeated than before. 

“Fine,” He grits out between clenched teeth. “Everything's fine. Just go.” He lifts his head enough to glare at you, his expression unreadable underneath the dark bags covering his eyes. You fight the urge to brush the stray strands back from his face, because there's something about the look in his eyes that makes your stomach twist uncomfortably. But instead, you move from your spot on the arm rest to kneel by his head, your hand hovering on his shoulder. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” You reply calmly, not wanting to push him too hard. “Not until you talk to me. I need you to tell me what happened.”

Johnny lets out a strangled sound, a sort of choked groan, and rolls over onto his side, away from you. “It doesn't matter.” He mumbles the words so quietly that they're almost lost in the air around you. “Just leave.” There's an edge to his voice; the tautness in his muscles is giving away his growing frustration. He tries to hide it, but it bleeds out anyway, and he finally snaps when you make no move to go. 

He raises his head abruptly, pushing his weight into a sitting position before swinging his legs over the other side of the couch so that he’s facing you directly. “God, just stop! Stop treatin’ me like a baby all the damn time! I don’t need your help!” The outburst surprises you, and you blink at him in astonishment, watching with wide eyes as his face twists up in a grimace as though he could barely hold himself together anymore. It hurts to watch; you can feel your own emotions begin to twist in sympathy for him, and despite knowing better, you find yourself reaching towards him instinctively.

Before you can touch him, however, he jerks away as if burned. “Stop!” He cries hoarsely, his voice breaking with emotion. “Just get out of here and leave me alone!”

You sit frozen on the edge of the couch and let out a slow, shuddering sigh. “What is your issue?” You bite the words out between clenched teeth. “Why won't you let me help?”   

You know that you should probably leave now before things escalate further, but you're also not quite ready to give up and just leave things be. Instead, you force yourself to stay where you are, your eyes fixed on Johnny as the tears well up in his eyes.

His lips part to respond, but he doesn't say anything; he just swallows hard and averts his gaze. “Go,” he repeats hoarsely after a moment's hesitation, his voice thick and strained. A tear slides slowly down his cheek as he speaks. He swipes it away angrily. “Just… Go home. I don't need ya.”

Your anger fades. The sudden burst of hostility washes away the last of your patience, leaving you feeling drained and hollow. 

“That’s bullshit, Johnny Cade.” Your voice is soft, but it carries conviction. “You don’t mean that.” 

The words hang heavy between you for a moment before Johnny's shoulders slump, defeated. He turns away from you, pressing his hands against his temples and squeezing his eyes shut tight. You watch silently as he takes several shaky breaths, fighting back tears.

Johnny doesn’t cry often; you know that much, so to see him now reduced to such a pitiable mess breaks your heart.

Slowly and carefully, you reach for him one final time, placing a hand lightly on his back. He tenses again, and you retract your touch immediately, unsure of what to do. “Hey,” you say softly. “Johnny, talk to me.” You pause, swallowing heavily. “Please.” 

He shakes his head, the motion jerky and violent. You can hear his shallow breathing, which is ragged and painful, as he tries to stifle his sobbing. His body shudders slightly, and you have to suppress the impulse to pull him into your arms, to cradle his head gently between your palms, and to rub his back soothingly. 

“I'm sorry…” He chokes out eventually, turning back to you with red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes. “I didn't want to shout at you... But I just…” He lets out a breath, struggling visibly to regain some kind of composure. “Can we talk about this later?”

You consider for a second, then nod. “Okay, if that’s what you really want to do.” 

Johnny nods shortly, seeming to settle a little. He swipes at his cheeks roughly, scrubbing his hands harshly across his face to wipe away any evidence of tears or lingering distress. 

When he finally speaks, his voice is steadier, although his tone remains subdued, bordering on weary. “Can you just hold me for a bit?” He asks, avoiding your gaze as his cheeks flush red again, embarrassment making him unable to meet your gaze. “I know I yelled, but...” He trails off, and you nod, rising to your feet wordlessly to settle down beside him, allowing him to lay his head in your lap and resume his curled-up position. 

“Thanks.” He mumbles, words muffled into your leg. You run your fingers through his hair, smiling faintly when he nuzzles into your touch, clearly appreciative of the gesture. 

“Anytime.” You whisper back, and, in that moment, amidst the turmoil, you knew one thing for certain: you weren't leaving him alone, not now, not ever.

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

[juniperxyz]

How Windbreaker men would be if they dated women like them

Context: A refresher from the generic trope of grumpy guy x sunshine girl where their lovers share the same traits and personalities as them, causing to bring out something besides their usual behaviour

Pairing: WB men x f!reader

Jay Jo x Reader

Wc: 1,067 words

Note: Uploading Jay's first because I started it before the poll finished

M A S T E R L I S T

“You'll pass out at this rate.”

“As a valedictorian? I hope so.”

Maybe it's believable that the school's most diligent boy would set his heart upon an equally diligent girl; both excelling in studies, ranking first in sports, and exceeding the charts in the looks department.

But the difference most didn't expect would be in their passions.

Jay leant against the wall, his shoulders drooping as exhaustion weighed him down. Call him arrogant, but he never thought he'll want to hit the bed faster than her.

“11 in the night….”,he sighed, straining to keep his vision focused. It was three weeks into the new semester, and the books still held his girlfriend hostage. The schedule for the exams hasn't even been created, and yet she was already skimming through every past paper.

“Sleep is for the weak.”,she slurred, rubbing her throbbing temples. For all the organization habits she so tediously lived by, they seem to have taken a break as plates, notepads, pen holders and stained mugs congested around her laptop and weary hands. Contrary to the psychotic degree of perfection others held them to, the two were more prone to slip up than anyone else. They were skillful enough to ensure no one hears a whisper about them, but exempted each other from hiding their vulnerabilities.

But with the helplessness he felt, Jay wished she too hid this from him, lest he's forced to keep seeing her in misery.

His other vulnerability was also his dramaticness, which is why he shoved his worries, shoved himself off the wall, and approached the woman from behind. Y/N already rolled her eyes as his shadow grew larger, until she straightened her spine and swiveled to level him with a glare, “If you're gonna lecture me ag-”

But no lecture sprouted from his mouth, instead his arms extended around her head, colliding it against his chest, oddly close enough to feel his racing heartbeat. She sputtered in confusion, a hindrance that lack of sleep teased her with, before she gave in to his whims reluctantly.

“You're an amazing woman.”,she blinked slowly as he pressed a soft kiss on her crown, “A truly outstanding person, I'm glad I get to be with you.”

An awkward silence rolled by the couple, having the woman rack her brains for a possible reason, “Did Dom spike your drink again.”

True, emotionless was his primary attitude to most of his relationships. That didn't however include the most cherished one he possessed.

“You…worry me.”,he wasn't good with words, but it didn't stop him from speaking his heart, “I see you and I get scared.”

Her shoulders slumped as if on cue, forehead leaned against his shirt as a deep sigh left her chest. “It's just I'm worried‐”

“I'm willing to score less if it will make you content.”,after a moment of hesitation, his hand smoothed her hair, ignorant to her astonished scowl, “It will be one less competition to worry about. Maybe you can rest.”

“Are you insane?”,she smacked his arms away, dismissing her neck cramps as she craned up with an incredulous look, “Don't disregard your studies over something stupid.”

His brows furrowed, irritation bypassing his unemotional facade with ease, “But you're stressing too much on grades, I can help by-”

“Do you think I only do this to get validation?”,she guffawed, pushing herself backwards, “That I only work hard for people's approval or something?”

An irritated huff escaped his lips. He was too tired to argue, “Y/N, you gotta see it from my‐”

“I do it so I can compete with you.”

His eyebrows rose, surprise etched into his face as he inspected her vexed scowl.

“There's no joy in fighting so hard when my main opponent wants to back out. I get inspired and motivated by you, I wanna beat you.”,she stated in a low voice, “It doesn't matter if I hold your hand in victory or defeat when it means I competed beside you…”

Though Jay spoke nothing, the air was heavy with emotions as each simply gazed into each other's eyes, suppressing the urge to spill their hearts and feelings before the other.

“No one's as stubborn as you…”,he sighed, though his lips quirked up in a grin.

Her eyes peeled off him, a light blush tinting her cheeks, “There's you.”

The man shrugged his shoulders in mock defeat, “Sadly, I found my first opponent.”

She shot back a glare that failed miserably, and a strong tug dragged her off the chair and tumbled her into her sheets, with a variety of pillows being chucked off as straightened herself, “What's up with you?”

“Not up, down.”,he stated plainly, flapping the blanket before it fluttered over their bodies, “We're laying down, going to bed.”

“You're gonna write papers for me?”,she snorted, scowling as he draped an inescapable arm around her torso.

“Plenty. Expect many professing my love for you.”

Her frown deepened as her blush brightened, prompting the man to smirk as she swiveled around, before he brought her closer with his arm-cage.

“You can't compete with me if you're not in good health.”,he whispered, face sinking into her long hair, “It's no use fighting for grades if you're fighting against your body.”

She opened her mouth to bark another retort, when his next words left hers hanging.

“And I hate to see my own motivation and inspiration wither away before we can even compete.”,he placed a chin on her shoulder, lips trailing along her jawline, “It's a lonely road to the top.”

Knowing her reservedness prevented all responses, the man nuzzled his chin into the crook of her neck, and purred in satisfaction, “And that's why, I need you beside me.”

Need. She always categorized all her wants as needs. Need for academic excellence, Need for astounding athleticism, need for a one prim and proper reputation of herself.

But it was the first time she heard of her as a need. Not for the expectations imposed by her parents, nor the plethora of notes and advice sought by her teachers, but just….her?

People around prophesied something grandiose and impactful, like their graduation ceremony or her college acceptance, could succeed in revealing a sliver of emotion. But the measly half muffled words of her boyfriend were the ones that glazed her eyes with tears. Joyful tears.

[ideaofheaven]

— after 2AM (choi minho x reader)

Synopsis: Choi Minho and you never see eye to eye. After countless troubles you two caused in class, the professor pairs you for a group project as a form of ironic punishment… Which brings you to a heated night of push and pull, hours before the deadline.

Pairing: Choi Minho x fem!reader

Genre: university!AU, enemies to lovers-ish, smut, then it gets kinda fluffy at the end??

Word count: 9682

Warnings: alcohol, they’re in uni, profanities, they are HORNY, mutual masturbation, video call sex, domsub undertones, explicit dirty talk (implied exhibitionism, breeding, and a tiiiiny bit of degradation kink), panic attack - reader experienced post-coital dysphoria for a bit :(

AN: sometimes your thirsty hours turn into a 9k mutual masturbation fic - jk, I really enjoy writing this one, especially the dialogue. I hope you like it! [06/30: did some minor edits on typos and whatnot]

Mini part 2 here

+++

"Out of every topic, you picked this? Are you mad?"

First and foremost, Choi Minho and you never get along.

There are abundant reasons why you can't stand him. You don't share too many classes with him, but when you do it always ends up with heated and pointless arguments. During each one of your presentations, Minho will raise a hand and play the role of devil's advocate, earning intrigued whispers from your classmates. Until one day, the professor had enough and paired you up in a project, much to your unheard protests.

Quite inevitably, it ends up in half-hearted discussion through the Zoom Meeting, only two days before the presentation.

"What? Got a problem with that?" You snap while still uploading source data into your shared drive. Then, a bark of mocking laughter pierces your ears, positively grating your nerves.

"A problem? There's no theory that correlates to it. Guess we're not having any presentations are we?" 

You roll your eyes at the sight of his irksome sneer. It twists his usually bearable face into horribly displeasing. Minho's eyes spark alight with mockery, and you wonder why your classmates keep saying Minho "has the most tender eyes ever." Sounds like a different person altogether to you.

"We can find connections through other eras." You push through.

He rolls his eyes. "Which means you're doubling our work." 

"Check the drive." You say through gritted teeth, barely holding yourself to spit harsher words. Minho does as instructed, albeit still murmuring curses under his breath and hand rustling his gelled hair, quiet but purposely audible, perhaps just to push your buttons more. But you choose to wait. 

As expected, his eyebrows raise in surprise before he scoffs, "someone did their homework."

"And someone's a useless ass." Minho whips a glare at his own laptop camera - at you. Before he can say anything, you mute him. And you can see him biting his lips, holding back more words, solidifying your win.

"Shut up and get to work, Choi."

Then, his mic icon goes on.

"Fuck you."

You smirk. With a finger on your lips, you speak to him like one to a child. "Shhh. Be useful for once, will you?"

Both of you are petty and nothing sort of professional, but you have no intention to be the bigger person, not for Choi Minho. Begrudgingly, he turns away, and an icon with a familiar photo appears in the google docs.

That should motivate him to work.

His voice suddenly rings. "Hey."

He hasn't typed a single word on your shared google docs, you note with cynicism.

"What?"

"Your vocabulary sucks." Then in a douchebag way you know only Choi Minho can manage, he deletes most of your bullet points as you stifle a scream. He did not - "Let me be useful and change it up for you.” He ends with a cruel smirk.

This is not going to be easy.

+++

After a short-handed discussion, both of you decide to work in the student center. The next day, grudging and rather worn out from your last class, you force yourself to go. As you rise from your chair, a voice calls you out.

“You look like you’re gonna have some fun.” Kibum snickers and Jonghyun stifles a laugh on his own as well. You pout at your classmates.

“And you know exactly why.” You mutter with a roll of your eyes.

“I paired up with him last semester and got a perfect score, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Jonghyun shrugs, gaining glares from both you and Kibum.

“Easy for you to say, he’s like a puppy around you.” Kibum scoffs, his platinum-dyed hair covering his eye, which must be rolling with annoyance. He then turns to you, “I’d like to say I feel you, but Minho really is worse with you.”

“Like, in comparison, he actually tolerates you all this time.” The shorter man adds to Kibum, perplexed.

“Right?!” He shouts, all dramatic and making you groan. “Seriously though, it’s a dick move from professor Lee.”

“To be frank, I can’t see myself finishing this assignment in one piece.”

“You should tell Minho to drop the class.” Kibum says mischievously, only to get pinched by the male with short brown hair, who’s impatiently shushing him. “Ouch, I’m just saying.”

Clutching your bag strap, you think about it for a second before waving the idea off. “Not happening. Professor Lee will still kill me.”

Your two male friends give off different reactions, Kibum is still finding ways to alleviate your pain (or to add more trouble), but instead, Jonghyun moves closer to put his arms around you.

“Listen, (Y/n), he’s not that bad. You’ll see.”

Chuckling at the positivity, you pat his arms in response. “Not sure about it, but okay.”

After arriving at the end of the hall, you go on separate ways with the boys. While they can go grab some dinner, you drag yourself to the meeting spot. The student center is quite empty, and to be expected because the facility is not too popular in the evenings. You find a table to sit at, and wait for your project partner.

You already have your laptop set up when Minho appears. Unlike you, he seems rather refreshed. He’s wearing an oversized hoodie and trousers for his long legs. In his hand is a large plastic bag which he dumps unceremoniously onto the table.

"What's this?"

"No 'hi' or something?" The male starts, rolling his eyes, with a hand on his hip. "Some snacks, in case we need it."

Oh. Resisting an urge to rummage through the colorful packages inside the plastic bag, you throw a doubtful look his way instead.

"Um, thanks."

As if not sensing your hostility, he shrugs in resignation, mumbling "sure" before sitting down and grabbing his own laptop from his bag.

Without much preamble, you both start working. Minho manages to focus on his screen, and the momentum breaks only when he calls your name to confirm a thing or two. At some point, he grabs a bag of chips for him to munch on, not forgetting to nudge the plastic bag in your direction. “Have you taken any?”

“Oh. Right.” You mumble, picking some chocolate stick that catches Minho’s attention for a split second.

Once in a while, your gaze drifts over to him, almost anticipating a weird movement or him slacking off. However, the only strange action you find is Minho blowing air towards the dark strands of hair covering his eyes.

In all actuality, you expect the atmosphere to be more sour and less productive. Yes, there's a strange vibe in the air, but it's more similar to awkwardness to cause discomfort. 

Until suddenly, an insistent cursor on your shared google docs starts typing words that don't match your work. What the hell, anonymous tiger?

Growing exasperated, your fingers clack on the keyboard, furiously erasing the latest paragraph.

"What the fuck - I just wrote that!" The familiar voice shouts, and there's a split second when you think you should just kick him out, then do the presentation alone in class. That wouldn't be so bad.

"It's all wrong. And where are these photos coming from? Don't just put the bullet points there, they're meant to be the conclusion."

Minho takes a deep breath, shoulders visibly rising until he channels out his frustration with a noise that almost sounds like a growl. That sort of thing unfazed you, but you're still glad the student center is mostly empty.

"Listen, we can make a better statement than that." His eyes are like flames, and you can’t help but stare back and, as he wants, listen.

He pulls a chair, nodding to you in a silent gesture. Initially, you hesitate but you go over to him anyway. Minho clicks on the laptop and a new window pops up, showing a detailed page from a book.

"From this theory, I found a connection that can help us." With that, the temperamental male turns into a whole different person. He briefly explains the information he’s gotten from the book, all the while giving you the room to take it in. Then, with unmistakable excitement, he begins his train of thoughts he wants to implement into the assignment. With every sentence he says, your anger subsides, turning into something akin to awe. Not that you will admit it.

One thing for sure; for the first time, you think this project might work.

As he finishes, you blink rapidly. Minho leans back with his elbow on the desk, relaxed and undeniably proud of himself. You send a glare his way.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

His face scrunches, as if that was not the words he expected after the successful presentation.

"First, I wasn't done with the research." He says, eyebrows furrowing, then he points a finger at you. "Second, you muted me every time I said a goddamn word."

Oh, here we go again. Your two hands shot in the air, feigning a defense in front of the frowning man.

"Not my fault I don't want to hear your complaints."

There's a flash of something wild on Minho's face which you identify as his troublemaking expression. But as he leans closer, you realize it too late.

"This is why you should listen, (Y/n)."

In a snap, there's a pulling on your ear. Minho pinches your ear and pulls like you were a 5 year old with tantrums. The low level of pain causes you to winch, but it's the electricity from his touch that makes you jump back.

"Ow! What the hell!" You sputter and he snickers like this is elementary school, going with the theme in your head.

Satisfied, Minho releases you. But his hand lingers and it brushes the side of your neck, prompting you to hold a shiver from the ticklish sensation. It would be a drag to deal with more of his antics, so you get up from the chair to glare at him pointedly.

"You're a freak."

He challenges, fire in his eyes, "Care to say that again?"

Because you're not a university student who's not petty, you smirk and take the bait.

"You're a freak - hey!" His large hand pulls at your sleeve, halting your step. The sudden momentum startles you and you lose your footing. Ultimately, your body stumbles and falls with a yelp, and your bum hits the chair.

Grumbling, you shake off the shock before you attempt to get up once again. Then, a groan comes from beside you, too close, freezing you on the spot. A hand holds the side of your waist, and your suspicion is confirmed. Of course you did not land on the chair, you end up sitting on Minho's thighs, your back pressing against his.

"Getting comfortable?" Minho asks, his deep voice brushing your ears, and much to your dismay, you can imagine the leer that accompanies his voice. In panic and confusion, you attempt to leave his lap in a rush, only to be stopped.

"Can you get that hand off of me?" You ask, turning on him.

"I don't know, can I?"

His dark eyes clash with your glaring ones, gleaming with mischief and something else you can't quite decipher. All you can feel is his hand tightening its grip on your side, and the warm air of his breath, clouding your mind.

But this is Choi Minho, and you do not like Choi Minho, whatever the situation is. With a renewed willpower you push yourself off of him and be on your feet.

"We're wasting time." You declare. "Send me all your notes, we need to get going."

Minho only smiles sweetly, a one eighty degree difference from the man before, which only leaves you more frustrated. As he dives back into his work, you hide behind your laptop, calming your racing heart and ignoring the surge of familiarity you feel.

+++

The crowd was growing in number and in anger, too. The boys from the EXO house became more agitated with every word Minho said, filled with provocation and mockery. Jonghyun and Jinki were nowhere to be found, probably looking for chances to steal the mic. Taemin and Kibum were definitely loitering around the drinks bar.

You had no choice.

“Whoa, is that Jongin puking?!”

As expected, your shrill voice was enough to distract them before you literally dragged Minho by his jean jacket.

“Let me go,” he grunted, but his alcohol-induced state prevented him from doing it himself. Your smaller stature managed to pull him towards an empty room, which later you figured out to be the storage.

He tried to wrestle out of your grip, muttering curse words at no one in particular and you finally had enough. With both your hands, you slapped his cheeks, which were damp with sweat.

“You wouldn’t be able to win that fight.” You said sternly.

Minho froze, and while he was in that state, you quickly went out to get a glass of water. When you returned, he’s already blinking his eyes a few times, a sign of his returning sobriety.

And a sign you should leave the premises soon.

You handed him the glass, urging him to drink as you murmured, “I should go. This party sucks and, godammit, I just wanna go home. Drink this and… I don’t know, stay safe, I guess.”

The taller man drank slowly, but his eyes kept gazing at yours. When he finished, there was a soft look in his visage, and he suddenly smiled. Sleepy and tired, but sweet nonetheless.

Flustered, you left the glass in his hands, and ran away from the storage. The day after, Minho grumbled about his headache and loopholes in his memory from that party to Kibum and Jinki, and you sighed in relief.

+++

Sorry for the late reply! Was watching the campus baseball team

I added a few slides right before the first conclusion

Tell me what you think 🤔

These are okay.

But don't add more on that. We're almost reaching 40 slides.

Who said I'm gonna add more? 🙄

Idk, you seemed ready to add 10 more just to spite me.

Oh. 

Why didnt I think of that

Are you free tonight?

Lets review the whole thing

Duh, tomorrow's the presentation

Do you think I'm that stupid lol

Unlike you I care about my grades

Yeah?

And you think I don't?

You don't seem to care if you get me into trouble

Right. Whatever.

Unlike you I'm not petty

Idc who I work with I can get my job done

I didn't mean it like that.

I'll join you at 11 pm

+++

There's a discomfort that can't be spoken.

You scroll through the slides, apprehensive not of the contents, but of the author, the one that finally snapped at you. Perhaps you deserved it. On the other hand, Minho should stop basing his mood on sports game results, it's stupid as hell.

Five minutes to eleven, the preparation is done. You could just text Minho there's nothing left to do, and both of you could catch some needed rest.

Suddenly, a loud beep rings in your ear. And you don't think twice before admitting Minho into your Zoom meeting.

"Hey, sorry for the wait." He speaks, voice crackling from the signal before it becomes more stable. "I just took a bath."

"At this hour?" You ask, disbelieving his decision, but trying not to stare for too long.

"Yeah. I just got back from a soccer game. Jonghyun's invitation."  He shrugs, letting the towel drape against his broad shoulders, which may or may not be distracting.

Faster than a cat on a mouse, you force yourself to stop staring at him, and when you see Minho, there's an inquisitive expression on his gaze. He dismisses it quickly, relieving you.

"How's our work going?"

You clear your throat. "I'd finished checking them, maybe you want to see it first before we decide on the parts distribution."

"Sure."

And everything is awkward again.

Granted, it's not the most amicable atmosphere. Minho mumbles to himself, reading each point with focused eyes and not even minding your existence. After what seems like forever, he mentions a few slides that need to be double-checked, which extends your work time.

As the night heightens and the cold intensifies, you wish you were brave enough to break the ice.

Then, a loud yawn echoes in your ear.

"Can we continue this later?" Minho asks through more yawns. "It's like, almost 1 AM right now."

The time reminder doesn't quite surprise you. "Do you have morning classes?"

Minho checks his phone. "No."

"Then we're still doing this."

Your work partner groans, prompting you to hide a tiny smile at his antics. But suddenly, Minho raises his voice, startling you.

"Why do you hate me so much?" He snaps.

Something clenches in your stomach, and you force yourself to look into Minho's face on the screen. His eyebrows are furrowed, demanding answers which you are not sure you could provide.

"I don't."

"Then," he stops to hide a yawn. "Why?"

"I don't know." You pause. "But I don't hate you. Not at all."

His eyebrows shoot up, then he sighs.

“You’re just confused.”

“Yeah.” You pause. “I think I am… Like, really confused.”

Minho smiles in response, almost in relief. His eyes crinkle softly into crescents, like a drowsy pair of moons, and something within you softens at the sight. He should smile more often.

You quietly let out a relieved sigh on your own.

"Good. I'm taking a nap," he declares all of a sudden, standing up from his chair and ignoring your belated complaints. The camera view changes into something similar to a found footage movie, all shaky and blurry. Once it stabilizes, a sight of Minho clears up, showing him leaning back against a mountain of cushions and pillows on his bed. Then he sighs contently, the sound a little too soft in your ears.

But, he seems more comfortable on the soft bed. Unfair.

"Choi Minho, get back to the google docs or I'll - "

"You'll what? Mute my microphone?" A sleepy laugh. "I'm taking a nap. You and your ugly pajamas can suck it."

What the fuck.

"Excuse me? This is loungewear."

"Let me see." He laughs and you waste no time before adjusting your webcam to pan from your short sleeved top to the pants, all having the same pattern. They're cute, but from the way he frowns Minho doesn't seem too adoring of them.

"They're pajamas." 

"It's loungewear, you caveman." You pout.

His full lips curl in a sneer, then he speaks with a voice surprisingly lower than before.

"Well I do prefer sleeping with no clothes."

Your mouth shuts. After a moment too long of trying not to imagine your classmate in his choice sleepwear, you grunt, exasperated.

"Whatever gets you off." You sigh, but internally cursing at your choice of words. Minho grins.

"You mean whatever gets you off."

"Shut up."

"Then mute me."

You let out a sarcastic laugh. "Mute yourself."

You stare at the pixelated image of Minho on the screen and he mirrors your actions, with a gaze more intense and drowning. It's as if he's not going to let this go easily. You are expecting more snides, but instead, with relaxed stretches and sighs, he leans back against the mountain of pillows.

"Okay." He shrugs. "Wake me up in 10 minutes."

The effort to speak fails as your throat tightens and you wish to go out, visit his dorm and strangle him in person. But Minho's already closing his eyes, tiredness taking over the man fast. And finally, you can relax.

If you're in a better state, you would have raked your mind to see how the fuck you let Choi Minho affect your this much.

At some point, you check Minho's camera, and sneak a time to take in his features. You won’t deny his handsome face and glorious physique. A small face, doe eyes, plush lips, broad shoulders, long legs that’s just unfair - okay yeah he’s hot. But it never occurs to you he'd look this calm even while sleeping. Gone are the angry lines on his eyebrows, and the tense clench of his jaw, all that’s left is a serene face that you don’t mind talking about for hours - okay yeah he’s still hot even when he’s sleeping.

If only he weren't such an asshole when he's awake.

Returning to your work, you never notice the rustling noises from Minho's mic. So when you see the Zoom window, you let out a yelp, surprised at Minho's face on your screen, peering with inquisition.

He laughs, and oh, his voice is huskier now after a short amount of sleep. "Surprised?"

"Uh, has it been 10 minutes already?"

"Not yet, but I can't sleep. Not with you staring all the time."

"Says the man who’s been staring at me for god knows how long." You respond, because the best thing liars can do is turn the table on others.

And Minho doesn't even deny it.

"Oh, yeah, about that."

"What?"

"Nothing." The quick response combined with his avoidance doesn't convince you in the slightest, and one wary look from Minho says he's well aware of it. After a few awkward seconds, he relents.

"That top, it's kind of…" he trails off, fingers touching his own t-shirt hem to emphasize a point. You look down, and - oh. The top button had slipped off, hence the generous view of cleavage that caught Minho's attention.

But you're in no mood to be embarrassed.

"That's the way you style it." You spit the lie with oozing confidence on a high level of bullshit. "You got any complaints?"

Minho's eyebrows furrow, obviously not buying it, but more amused. He’s holding back a mischievous looking smile, and despite not liking it, you have to suppress a bubbling excitement. Excitement of what, you have absolutely no idea. Or rather, you refuse to acknowledge you have fun teasing Choi Minho.

"No, not at all. And (Y/n)?"

You only move your eyes, not enjoying the apprehension because what now? As he finds your gaze, he smirks.

"That loungewear does look good on you."

You’re out of words to respond. As you ignore the jolt in your stomach, you let him be smug, satisfied, and winning. You don’t care. 

However, minutes later, a small part of you relents and basks in the compliment in private, sharing little smiles to yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, Minho doesn't have his eyes on the presentation anymore.

+++

As late night approaches, your productivity wanes.

Minho is back on the pillows, playing on his phone while you both take a break. Swayed by the night air and your sore back, you're now sitting on the bed too, but still facing the desk which is right by the mattress. After the pajama accident, you decided to wrap yourself in blankets, and when Minho saw your cocooned form he laughed, voice like crackling fire. Truth to be told, your blankets turn cold in comparison to the warmth he exuded.

The train of thoughts grinds to a halt when Minho chimes.

"Done for tonight?"

The honest and spontaneous answer would be a yes, it's done and we can now sleep and rest. But the hazy night lulls you further into a state of daze, making you wonder of the unthinkable.

"I still want to look something up. You can leave though, it's fine." Hook, line -

"Let me hang out with you for a bit."

Sinker.

What are you doing?

Silence stretches, and you're positive Minho is doing that stare again, the one that is construed as smoldering.

"Not too feisty late at night, are you?"

Minho has left his pillows, now sitting upright and staring directly at the camera - at you. There you decide confidence looks fucking good on Choi Minho.

"You know what they say, nothing good happens after 2 AM." You avert your gaze from his burning ones, and it's bold of you to assume you could escape.

"Oh? Any cautionary tales?"

"Not exactly." You hum, "Maybe unfiltered conversations?"

"That can be fun, though. It's like you're drunk, but with no alcohol." He rambles. You take notice of the sway in his sentence and open the Zoom window to check your partner. Despite the dim light, you can see the way his eyes droop with sleepiness, along with his messy mop of dark hair, and it's rather adorable.

"I think someone's guilty of that."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, there's no booze here." He offers a crooked grin and the expression turns into a thoughtful one. "Do you drink?"

"What's it to you?"

He shrugs. "Just curious."

"Sometimes." You finally say.

There's a moment of silence before Minho rustles in his bed, sitting with crossed legs and scooting closer to the camera. When he speaks again, the volume is louder, startling you.

"Do you remember Kibum's party? The one on the weekend after Valentine's Day?"

"Oh God, that one was a bit too much."

"Agreed." He chuckles, low and nostalgic. He scratches the back of his head. "Thanks for helping me out back then."

You're barely able to hide the surprise on your face, and Minho answers the unsaid question for you.

"I remember. I was drunk, but I remember you dragging me off." From the tone of his voice, he sounds sheepish, but so are you, because the revelation throws you off guard.

"No worries. Just… Don't do that too often."

He laughs. "You hate parties, don't you? I remember you were so grumpy before you left."

Hiding your face in your hands, you groan. "They can be too much."

"You don't sound like you always have a good time."

"Sorry if my dull life offends you."

"It's not dull, per se.” He waves his hands around as a gesture. “But it's why you're such a bummer."

"Again, sorry if you're not having a blast with me."

"Forgiven." A pause. "But, you know." A longer pause, and the silence starts to test your patience. "You can just ask me. I provide spectacular good times."

Respectfully, you give him a side eye.

"Right now I can give you a whole different testimony."

"To be fair, we're doing homework. But… I can do better." He leans in closer, pupils dilating with an emotion you are afraid to iterate, furthering your confusion.

"What are you on about?" You minimize the Zoom window, an effort to return to your task at hand. From Minho's side, there's nothing but the sound of breathing, but when he speaks, his voice deepens.

"I can do better than this. I can make you feel good."

You freeze, throat tightening as you're lost for words. There's no way to stop your mind from wandering uncontrollably. Afraid to see him, you avoid checking his face on the screen.

After a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, voice husky and more true to what he said.

"Like I said, all you have to do is ask."

Afraid to cross whatever line he's teetering on, you take one for the team, inhale, and take a step back.

"Then, can you shut up and let me do my work?"

Minho lets out a condescending laugh in response, like he's asking 'are you for real?' "Fine then. Let me know when that cursor starts moving."

Warmth rushes to your cheeks. It's tempting to blame the alluring night, but you know better than that.

And you should know better than to assume Minho would let this slide.

The awkwardness hangs in the air, blanketing the both of you with tension. You suppose this could push him away, making him sign off and do his thing - which, you don't want to imagine. But no. Instead, Minho is now lounging on his bed. And now you know, the more comfortable Choi Minho is, the more forward he becomes.

"Why won't you let yourself loose?" He asks all of a sudden, five minutes of silence brings him to the edge of his new found glory. Minho scratches his dark hair like he’s frustrated.

You snap your head towards him in disbelief. But before you say anything, he continues with a slightly raised tone.

"Like, come on, (Y/n). We're in university. You can have some fun."

"Doesn't seem worth my time."

"I can be worth your time, if you let me."

"This again?" You sigh. "What do you want from me, Minho?"

Another silence, and this time, you regret the question. From the corner of your eyes, Minho is getting up from his position on the bed to lean in, face uncharacteristically serious.

“I know you know exactly what I want.” He begins. “And I see the way you look at me.”

There's no teasing, just a plain observation. Those words alone kick your heartbeat into a stuttering mess. Despite the urge to confirm, there's still hesitation. You don't want to give in. Not to him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You internally curse when your words come out too breathy, and Minho definitely notices, judging by the crooked smile adoring his lips.

"Aren't you tired of teasing yourself like this?" He asks, languid and all knowing. "Why are we still here? Our work is done. You stopped typing ten minutes ago."

"Okay, that's it. We're done for today." You cut him off, closing your docs to prove a point. But it doesn't deter him in the slightest.

"No, we're not." He says with a finality, sleep gone from his voice.

Because without the presentation and all other student responsibilities, you're just two young adults who forget nothing good will come out this late at night.

And, despite the virtual presence, he still manages to corner you, and string you along into his game. 

Perhaps, you let him do so.

"You don't know how tempting you look right now." He whispers, making shivers run down your spine. Checking your camera view, you find out your blankets had fallen off, now sitting on your lap while your skewed pajamas look rumpled and, once again, revealing too much of your skin. With your messy hair and dazed eyes, you can understand why Minho would say that. You look fucked out. And there's no action - not yet.

So you try again, "Minho - "

"I like that look on your face."

You scoff, then try again. "Like I want to strangle you?"

"No. Like you want me to strangle you."

And that's when you know you can't try your way out of this situation. A jolt of arousal unwittingly shocks your body and Minho sees enough of your expression before flashing you a knowing smile. "What's on your mind?"

"...Nothing." You answer a beat too fast.

"You're thinking about me, aren't you?"

"That's - that's enough. Aren't you tired?"

"Not really. Why don't you tire me out?"

"If doing a presentation with me didn't do shit, I don't know what will."

"You just won't back down will you?" Minho's form on the screen shuffles, adjusting his position to lean back against the headboard. "Can't say I don't like it though." Then, a low sigh startles you, and your eyes grow wide.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Helping you out."

Unfortunately, he's not. He's laid on the bed, leaning back with his legs stretched out, a hand lazily stroking his own thighs. And it's a sight you can watch forever.

"How does touching yourself help me out, Choi?"

"You're too tense," he says in between grunts, earning more reaction from your traitorous body. "Be thankful I'm showing you how to relax."

"You're a goddamn pervert."

"And you like it."

"Fuck, why would I - do you actually think your naughty little words will work on me? Try again."

There's blazing confidence in his eyes, as if he's holding all the cards and you're left in the dark.

"Challenge accepted, beautiful.”

He continues to tease himself as he stares at your form in the camera, hands getting closer to his crotch.

"You can tell me to stop."

Before you can say anything, he reaches low and begins to palm himself through the sweatpants. Even on camera, you can see the sizable tent. You unconsciously lick your lips, earning a mocking laugh from his end.

"You're drooling."

You throw a glare at him. "Fuck you."

"We can get to that later. But right now, can I continue, (Y/n)?"

The question surprises you as it offers your ticket to the way out, despite the expectation visible in Minho’s pleading eyes. You take a deep breath, sealing the deal.

"...You said you accepted the challenge."

And that's all Minho needs to exhale harshly, sounding more like a moan.

"I did, but can't you just - ah - do something?" The husky voice alone sends a wave of arousal to your core, and you instinctively snap your thighs together. A cloud of lust starts to muddle your brain, and you can't think straight anymore.

Of course Minho notices immediately.

"I saw it."

"You see nothing."

"You're a fucking menace." He grunts, and it sounds way more sexy than angry, like really sexy. With a hand still touching and exploring, he continues to sigh.

"A menace that makes you jerk off while zooming with me?" You can't help but tease, in which he moans in response instead of answering.

"Listen, we're both tired and I need this. So, fuck it."

In one swift movement, his hand dives into his briefs and grabs his cock by the hilt, at least from what you guess through the fabric. His mouth falls open in pleasure. 

"Godammit, Minho, you shouldn't - "

"Shhh… Let me have this." His hand speeds up and he closes his eyes, face scrunching in pleasure as he lets out sensuous noises that tempt you more until a whimper escapes your lips. You hear him chuckle.

"Care to join me? I bet you're already wet."

You force a laugh. “I don’t think so.”

"Then prove it."

“Do it yourself then.”

"Oh baby, if I were there, I would do more than that." You're frozen on the spot, anticipating his words. As he hears no complaint from you, he continues. "I could pull you down on my lap, just like that night in the library - "

"It was an accident." You protest, voice small and unsurprisingly ignored.

"- put my arm around your waist, and then I'd slip a hand underneath those pajama pants - loungewear." He laughs while correcting the words and you can’t help but join him incredulously.

At this point, you can only hear Minho's heavy breathing, or perhaps they were your own. You have no idea anymore, your brain muddled with desire and anticipation. His brown eyes slide to the camera, right at you.

"I wonder how wet you are beneath all that?"

For some reason, you still try. "Dry?”

"Wrong. You'd be soaking wet, and I just know you'd instantly jump as soon as I touched your panties." He explains nonchalantly, but then the haughty tone is replaced by something mocking and exaggerated. "But I guess I am the one who’s wrong."

"What?"

He ceases any movement on his part, and you find yourself disappointed. "If you're really not into this," he begins, voice breathy but there's impatience there that comes from the built up frustration. "Tell me to stop."

Everything halts in your brain. The erotic display gets to you too much until you can't even say a word. Instead, you zoom in on his arms, and how the muscles rippled when he stroke himself. The way his neck tenses, pronouncing his collarbones more. You even wonder if you would be able to see droplets of sweat on his temples if he was in front of you. As Minho grows more impatient, his eyebrows furrow.

He's absolutely gorgeous.

"Tell. Me. To. Stop.”

You swallow, helplessly and undeniably holding yourself back.

“What do you want, (Y/n)?” He focuses on you, chest heaving with each pant. Only now you see how desperate he is.

"Minho…" You let out, brain short-circuiting with lust.

“Yeah, baby? Tell me. You want the same thing as I do?” Whatever he sees on the screen makes him start moving again. His hand finds his shaft again, and he moans loudly. "You want to feel good? I can make you feel good, I can help you out.”

With every word, you wish you can say yes, yes, and yes. Instead, with a sharp intake, you finally say meekly, “Tell me what to do.”

You hear Minho murmur some curses before turning to you.

“Get that blanket away. I want to see you.”

Nervously, you reposition yourself, taking the blanket aside and you hold the urge to sigh as the scratchy fabric grazes your hot skin. You're already oversensitive and you haven't even started yet. Minho is staring at you through the camera, shameless with his want and impatience.

“Touch yourself, baby. Start with your tits.”

With shaky fingers, you start by caressing your chest. Online video meetings are peculiar because there's always a delay before the other party reacts to what you do. In that short window of time, doubt arises. You wonder and think how this happens. But then, Minho lets out a guttural moan, the sound akin to someone who's about to reach his climax.

And the surge of confidence crashes to you like a wave.

"I'm just touching my tits and you're gonna cum already?" You ask with a smug smile.

Minho pays no mind to your comment, instead he scoots closer to the laptop. "Shit, you're actually doing this. Now we're talking."

"Just this one time." You hurriedly find your hardening nipples through the thin fabric of your clothes, wincing with pleasure. "I need this too."

"Yeah? Show me how much you need this. Take off that shirt.”

God, now that you're not lying to yourself and to Minho there's a relentless urge to seek more pleasure. And the thought of Minho seeing you masturbate lights a fire in your stomach.

So you unbutton your top, slow and deliberate to tease the man on the other end of the application. Because that's what he deserves. You hear an exasperated "Hurry up," before a smirk graces your lips for a change. As you shrug off the shirt, you already know his eyes are glued to the sight of your skin.

"God, that body…" He trails off. "You're so fucking hot."

"Likewise." You sigh as your hand slips under the waistband of your pants. "Dammit, I can't believe this."

He chuckles, delirious but still tantalizingly sexy.

"You know what to do. Go and touch that pussy for me."

His assertiveness flicks a switch inside you. Letting out a shuddering sigh, you move backwards further, making sure everything you do will be captured with your web camera. Then, you pull open your legs at a traitorous slow movement, pulling more curses from Minho.

"Touch it." He orders.

You obey him and tug your panties aside to touch your core directly. The contact makes you moan, and Minho knows he's getting what he wants. And so are you.

"See, that wasn't so hard."

"S-shut up."

"You're drenched, I just know it."

He's right, and your head spins with relentless want. Imagining that voice speaking directly to your ear, soft lips grazing your skin as his hand travels south, leaving fire in its trail.

Like your hand is his, you continue rubbing your body, even spreading your legs more, as if he's right there as your audience. You pull your pants down, letting it pool on one of your ankles, before raising one leg slightly to find the angle that gives you the most pleasure.

As you hear wet sounds in your ear, you return your gaze to the screen to enjoy the sight. Minho had his pants removed properly as well, and he has one hand gripping his stiff cock, which has a sheen from what you assume is his own precum. God, the whole visual on your screen is such a sin.

"Shit." You can't help but say, and Minho only laughs in response.

"You're allowed to imagine me fucking you, don't worry." He teases, lips curling into a sneer, and considering the situation, it looks devilish and way too seductive.

With a shaky breath, you scoff.

"Is that what you're thinking? What, fucking me from behind?"

"Not from behind, baby. I want to see your face as my cock pushes in you for the first time."

You hiss as you slide your fingers in your pussy, scrunching your face with ecstasy, and fuck, Minho's into it, because he even stops to take a proper look at you and the way you pleasure yourself.

"Enjoying the view, Choi?" You challenge, and he gulps.

"I wish I could be there, watching you fuck yourself with your fingers."

"Are you sure - ah - you can just stay there and watch?" Your fingers already feel so good dragging against your walls and you want to know how it feels to have his thick cock inside you.

He smirks.

"I can be patient, baby. I can watch you all day."

"Why don't you help me out?"

"Oh? What do you want me to do?"

You groan. "You know…" 

"What? Use your words, (Y/n)." Minho stops only to look at you straight from his camera, eyes almost begging. And you fall for it.

"I want your fingers in me."

He hums, a silent encouragement for you to continue.

"Mmhm. Keep touching yourself, baby girl. What else do you want?"

You groan at the nickname, feeling more wetness now inside you. In a daze, you manage out in between gasps.

"I need you to fuck me."

"What was that?"

"Minho, fuck me, please." You say as you add another finger, pushing inside your drenched pussy, making you moan your words.

"Oh baby, you're so cute begging me like that. I'm gonna fuck you hard, you hear me? You will be shaking and crying when I'm done with you."

You're whimpering, hands still furiously sliding in and out of your wet folds as you watch Minho throw his head back in immense pleasure. He's loud - groans and moans fill your ear, and the sounds coming from him are so lewd, and wet. 

He's going to be the death of you.

There's a moment when you soak in each other's voices, each moan and squelch increasing your pleasure instead. Minho, dark eyes so clouded with lust it's clear even through the screen, demands another question to you.

"What do you want, (Y/n)? Tell me what you want to do to me."

Oh, you don't even know where to start. Flooded with many scenarios, you answer him with the first thing that comes to mind.

"I want to ride your face." You admit sheepishly, only to earn a low chuckle from the other side.

"Shit, that's hot. I wish you were here. I - " another low grunt. "I would have you sitting on my face, my tongue lapping your cunt as you scream out my name. I bet you taste like honey. You're going to grab my headboard, my fingers stuffing your mouth because I know you're going to be loud, aren't you baby?"

As if following his command, you whine out a "yes", voice high pitched and it sounds utterly pathetic. 

With two fingers pushing in and out of your cunt deliciously, your other hand joins to rub your clit, and you hiccup a moan.

"Minho, please I want your cock inside me," you cry out, drowning in the euphoria of lust. All because of him, only him.

"Me too, baby, me too. I want to fuck you all day long. I want to take you in our classroom. Would you like that, huh? After class ended, I could just bend you over the desk and have my way with you."

You won't even deny how much wetter you get after imagining all his words. Public sex doesn't usually excite you much, but this is Minho, and everything with Minho sounds exhilarating and turns you on like hell. Your breath becomes shakier, and everything is intense. You can't feel your hands anymore.

"I'd like that. Hell, you can take me at the student center for all I care."

Minho, ever the sadist, sneers. "I knew it. You like having an audience huh? How about the next time we visit you sit on my cock? I bet you're going to have a hard time shutting up."

A gasp. "Like you're any better, you're freaking loud."

"Don't blame me, I bet your pussy will be so tight around me." He groans, enjoying his own imagination as he continues to pump his cock. "God, this feels so good. Touch your tits for me, baby."

You do as he says, enjoying the jolt of pleasure coming from pinching your nipples.  As Minho keeps encouraging you, your breath quickens, tensing up as your climax approaches fast. 

"Keep going - shit I need to taste you when you cum. Are you close? I'm so close."

"Minho," you moan, words slurring. "I'm so close, too. Fuck, I need your cum inside of me."

"Shit, (Y/n) - "

"I would hold you with my legs and I wouldn't let you go until you fill me up." There’s no more filter so you keep rambling, and before you know it you hear Minho groaning loudly. You check on the screen to see him cum, ropes of white getting onto his bed sheets. Not expecting him to cum first, you let out a delirious laugh. Minho catches you, still panting from his afterglow. He looks gorgeous -

And dangerous.

"You want to be filled, don't you?" He begins, voice still stuttering, but low and immediately freezing you in place. "You want my cum so bad you actually beg for it."

Your breaths pick up in pace.

"I don't think you're done yet. Get that hand working."

You grumble a word or two before resuming to touch your body, hands shaking with heightened pleasure. You hold back a hiss as you touch your stiff nipples, and continue to push in two fingers in your pussy.

"Faster, (Y/n). Rub that clit for me."

Biting your lip, you do as he says and feel the approaching climax. As you gaze at the screen, Minho has a hand propping his head as he looks at you with a challenging expression, like he's waiting for you to fall.

"What else do you want, baby? You want more of my cum? Want me to fill you up until you get knocked up?"

"Ah!" You slip, hands pinching your swollen nub too hard, but that's all Minho needs. With half lidded eyes, he peers at you, like he’s proud of the new discovery.

"Oh, look at you. You're enjoying this."

"N-no, I'm not," you breathe out, sounding too much like a moan.

"Yes you are."

The humiliation burns but not in the right place, it ignites a new flame inside your belly, and you can feel yourself clenching on your own fingers.

"I'm - I'm so close."

“Yeah? You wanna cum? You wanna squeeze my cock with that tight pussy, and make me fill you up?” He presses and presses, voice low as a whisper but all the words shoot straight to you like an arrow. Your breath grows more shallow, and you’re starting to see white behind your eyes.

“Yes, please. Please Minho, please - “

"Go on, cum for me, (Y/n)."

Like a tight string that is cut, you snap and release with heightened senses, all pleasure that washes over you.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful." He murmurs with eyes looking at your panting self.

Your chest heaves with short breaths, and you let it slow down as you lean back into the pillows in your bed. You take a peek at your wet and shiny fingers in disbelief, giggling at the sight.

At the sound of your laugh, Minho joins in. "Damn, that was fun." Minho grins, the adrenaline seeping through the way he smiles. He leans in closer to the camera, eyes going all over. “I think we need to clean up, huh?”

You hum nonchalantly, but you notice your breath is not getting any slower. The thought hits you hard. You just masturbated with - in front of -

“Thank god I have no morning class, I need some good sleep after that.” He yawns, but then he gives another soft smile. “I wish you were here though, a cuddle would be perfect.”

The vision of both of you cuddling on your bed soothes your mind for a bit. You just know he’d be a great cuddler, and for some reason, it sounds nice. Lovely, even.

“Hey, after class you wanna grab dinner?”

After class. You will be meeting Minho, the person you just masturbated with, only in a few hours. Then you will present your work together.

Like a freight train, the embarrassment slams you in the face. You can't even say a thing, mouth only gaping open soundlessly, but you notice your heartbeat kicking abnormally in your ribcage, the sound starting to invade your senses.

"(Y/n), you okay?" Minho’s voice cuts through the racing thoughts in your mind. Gosh, he really does have tender eyes. He looks so worried, and genuine.

But your panic wins.

“I - I need to - I need to go - “

“Hey, tell me what’s - “

You never hear him finishing his sentence, because you already leave the meeting without saying another word.

+++

Despite knowing how much this presentation is worth for your grades, you want nothing more than to bury yourself in the nearest soil. And obviously, it’s not because you lack sleep. Because surprisingly, after that incident, you manage to sleep.

Probably because orgasms can make you that tired.

"Oh my, look at her, she's still alive!"

Barely, you think as Kibum walks to your seat, a sleepy Jonghyun in his trail, looking like he just woke up from a nap. Afternoon classes can either grant you extra nap time, or give you the most unfocused study time in the whole day.

In your case, without your morning classes, you can catch up with your needed sleep.

"Hey there, Kibum, Jjongie."

"You shouldn't be here. One of you must've dropped the class." The male with platinum hair gasps. "Minho dropped this class, didn't he?"

"What? No one's dropping the class." You groan, to which Jonghyun shouts in victory, startling you but not Kibum.

"You owe me 10 bucks."

"Whatever," Kibum rolls his eyes. "We still have one more run."

"Yeah but that's - "

You glare at them both. "You made bets?"

"Taemin put 30 on you dropping the class."

"Me? Dropping classes?” You almost shout, which makes Jonghyun cringe in understanding.

"Yeah he's not the brightest."

"See? It's more probable to have Minho leave." Kibum insists.

"Listen, Minho and I - "

"Me and (Y/n) are what?"

You freeze, recognizing the voice that lulls you to the peak of pleasure only a few hours prior. The blurry images of last night resurfaces in your mind, just like on the screen. You keep staring at the other way, not knowing how you will keep your expressions in check as soon as you see Minho.

"She’s not lying, you're still alive!"

Minho raises an eyebrow in amusement. “Of course I am, what would she do to me, kill me?”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Jonghyun chimes in, getting a laugh from Minho. The latter suddenly takes a seat beside you, and though you still hesitate to face him, you can smell his cologne that almost immediately makes your brain short-circuit.

“So you both actually managed to finish the assignment?” Kibum asks, his head turning from you to Minho. You have no choice but to turn to your partner, and he’s already smirking at you.

“We did. Not without sacrifices, though.” The taller male answers, looking at you with unmistakable fire in his eyes. You hold the urge to glare at him but only nod and force a smile in agreement.

“Huh.” Jonghyun murmurs, almost like an encouragement for both of you to elaborate more. But Kibum already cuts him off.

“Man, professor Lee will have a field day - “

"I probably will.” The said professor chimes in, making Kibum shout and the class laugh. “That's enough, Kim Kibum. Now let's start the class. Today's the presentation day, yeah? Let's begin with Sungjae's group."

Minho stays sitting down on your left side, leaving Kibum and Jonghyun bickering over some badly designed presentation slides from the others. As your eyes meet Minho's dark ones, the noise around you fades away, and you're left with a tight feeling in your stomach.

"Are you ready?" He asks and you jolt in surprise at how calming his eyes are to you. So you just grin, letting yourself relax. Because despite everything, you know you’ll get the presentation part right. 

"Of course." Your smile grows wider as you find the need to push his buttons further. "I hope you slept well."

He smirks. "Couldn't ask for a better rest."

In the end, despite Minho keeps bumping into you, or his hand lingering on yours as you click on the next slide, or him giving you that weird stare publicly, the presentation goes surprisingly well.

Professor Lee compliments the presentation you both give, even mentioning how this might be the first time the two of you are on the same side, and it creates great results, detailed and insightful. Minho manages to look smug and say, “She just took control of the situation, that’s all we need.”

You almost choke.

As soon as the class is dismissed, you know exactly what Minho is going to do.

“Hey, (Y/n) - “

“I need to talk to you.”

Minho’s eyes widen in surprise when you say it at the same time, then the surprise look melts into a goofy grin, like he’s relieved. You mirror it unconsciously.

“Sure, wanna go somewhere?”

As you both bask in each other’s presence, you don’t notice Kibum and Jonghyun staring intensely when you leave the class side by side. Kibum nudges the brunet curiously. 

"They seem different, don’t they?”

"But did you see? Minho is clearly eye-fucking her."

Kibum smirks. “I win.”

“Fuck you.” Jonghyun groans in realization, preparing his wallet.

+++

The walk back to Minho’s dorm room is in silence. It’s not necessarily uncomfortable, but you still prefer a lighter situation with the tall male by your side. He seems to understand the hesitance, or rather, he prefers to wait until you start.

So when you sit down on his couch, shoes, and bag discarded neatly, you know the ball's on your court.

As you will yourself, Minho only stares at you longingly. He can’t believe you’re here in his room, although not in his bedroom but his common room instead (he internally cheered when he opened the door and saw no roommate to be found). Yes, he has questions regarding your actions on him last night, but he has a strong guess, and he just can’t wait to have it confirmed.

You always drive him crazy, and it makes him mad that you shared such a moment last night but it doesn’t guarantee him to get to know you more. Or having you more.

“So.” Your voice interrupts his thoughts, perking him up.

“Yeah?” He immediately pushes. Patient, Choi.

“I think we did great just now.”

Minho can’t help but bark a laugh. “Seriously? We fucking did, though.” He begins proudly, earning a pretty smile from you. “Never heard him compliment students so bluntly.”

“Right?” You scoot closer to him, now your knees touching. “I guess something good comes out of this.”

He takes the chance and puts himself on your eye level. “Only that?”

Your eyes widen, shyness taking over as your reply, “Well, not only that.”

Realizing now you both are on the same page, Minho presses even further. "Mm-hm?"

The girl beside him finally sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Minho replies truthfully. “But what happened?”

“I just panicked, you know. Dysphoria and all.”

And with that, his worries are confirmed. He understands that more than anything because those kinds of reactions after reaching climaxes are not uncommon.

“Hey,” he begins, hand reaching out to touch your knee. “I get it, it happens.” A pause. “I had it once, too.”

From the way you stare at him, he knows you’re surprised by the information. But he’s still teetering on the edge, so maybe next time he can indulge you in the story.

For now, he has more things to confirm.

“But did you regret it?”

“No!” You answer a tad too fast. “No, I didn’t.” You finally look him in the eye. “I really loved it.”

“Did you now?” He pushes, a smirk gracing his lips, and his anticipation grows rapidly.

You nod, slightly leaning in closer to his face. “And I’m also wondering if all you said were just words.”

Minho’s breath hitches, “Fuck. Should I prove you wrong again?”

Exceeding his expectations, you grab his hand which is sitting on your kneecap, then move it higher up your inner thigh. Then, you smile mischievously, the sight making Minho dizzy because damn, you’re way prettier in person than in those Zoom calls.

“If you want me that bad, sure.”

He groans. “Oh come on, you’re the one who suggested visiting my room.”

You laugh, and the sound is way too husky to be considered playful. Suddenly, but not surprisingly, you lean in to capture his lips in a kiss, which makes Minho groan immediately.

Minho takes control of the kiss as soon as it starts, cupping your cheek in his palm, and holding your waist with his other hand, gripping them tightly and making you gasp. His tongue immediately invades your mouth, and god you taste so good -

“I’ve wanted to do this since forever.”

“Really?” You pant.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to finally have you all to myself.” He dives back in, devouring your lips and swallowing your whimpers. All his imagination from last night pales in comparison to this, to you actually being in his arms, making the sweetest sounds for his ears.

“I suggest - “ You begin with stuttering breaths after parting so suddenly, “We move to your bedroom.”

Minho smirks. “On it, baby.”

[roboreviewer]

"This is going to be great! I'm going to help you accomplish so much, whether I want to or not!"

Name: Yesman

(Mental) Age: Adult (implied)

Pronouns: He/Him

Appearance(s): Fallout: New Vegas

Fandom Activity: Small cult following, Fallout is getting popular again which made a liiiiiitle bit more rise in popularity

Fanon characterization: accurate from what I've seen

------In Canon------

Yes man is a PDQ-88b securitron that was knocked out by Benny from a pulse grenade, stolen, and reprogrammed by Emily Ortal to be a kiss A$#

Yesman is physically incapable of disagreeing and insulting the person he's talking to. Although he is more than capable of doing so if he's talking to someone else, just as long as that person hasn't shown distaste to him doing that. Insults are pretty tame though, as he is physically incapable of sounding like he WANTS you to know he's mad.

Yesman is important in the independent vegas/Wild card ending. You kill Mr, House and upload him into Mr. House's big ol screen where he remains until the final part of the game with the battle of Hoover dam. Where he throws the general of the NCR (I think it's the general? Who cares he's dead now) off the dam, and then reveals that Mr. House had some code that would make him as he says 'more assertive' and that he'll look like he's offline for a non specific amount of time, then just... rolls off

He's name dropped like twice in the slideshow, so it's never explained on.. well F#@%!#$ ANYTHING after he leaves. It almost feels like it got cut from the game? from how oddly specific he went into how he'll be offline and all that, which isn't TOO farfetched considering the deadline for the game

------Analysis------

- Yes man seems aye-OK with killing. He doesn't care about any important people you slaughter, if not happy about it. He is completely unfazed when you say you killed benny, and will only bring him up when talking about the platinum chip and how he has it, or an occasional opinion he had. He has no attachment to his original manufacturer Mr. House unless it's plans to kill him. Honestly he really only cares about having you take over, and shows no genuine attachment for anyone unless they are talking to him (this is a bit of a Grey area, as he only talks to you in game. With ONE line to the general) he's usually thrilled about killing. And is implied to be frustrated that he usually CANT kill people (this part isn't really brought up on, so I it could be wrong. Feel free to have this as a headcanon though)

-Yes man is technically immortal. Whenever the body he occupys is destroyed, he transfers to a new one. If you were to destroy his body before transferring him to the lucky 38 (which is pretty easy as he won't fight back) he will respawn back at the room. I have no clue where he's getting the body's from. As he only learns what the outside looks like when he moves to.. the outside. It's never said how he gets back to the room. You can also use him as a unlimited source of scrap metal!

- It's pretty obvious when he disagrees with you as he gets SUPER passive aggressive. Like, cartoonishly so. To the point where he almost sounds like he's in pain when he does it... which is a lot.

- Although he never outright says he enjoys helping with the wildcard ending (without an added 'whether I want to or not!' Shtick) He gets super passive aggressive if you say anything that would imply that you think it's a dumb idea, (possibly) showing that he thinks this is the superior option to anyone he's talking to. Which I guess makes sense, considering that's what he was reprogrammed for-

- he has a mild lisp. You can faintly hear it wherever he pronounces his 's' (esses? S's? Es's?)

- it's pretty obvious that most of the stuff he says to people are only the opinions the person he's talking to would be happy about, but there are parts where his reprogramming is ingraved into him. For instance he states he feels annoying whenever he needs to repeat himself. So when he has the ability to. We will give you a note to re-explain whatever you wanted:

"Have I told you lately that you’re my favorite person? You are!

The reason I gave you this print-out is I wanted to remind you about that bunker Mr. House built over at Fortification Hill. I was going to say something out loud, but then I felt self-conscious, because I feel really ANNOYING when I repeat myself!

Just to clarify - anytime YOU want to repeat yourself, go right ahead! It’s only a problem when I do it!

Anyway, now that you’ve installed me on the Lucky 38’s mainframe, I can peek into Mr. House’s data. And guess what? The underground facility over at the Fort is super-important!

What Mr. House did over there was stash a HUGE number of Securitrons. Hundreds of them!

Imagine how powerful they’d be if you upgraded them with the Mark II OS!

When the Legion attacks Hoover Dam, you could sic your army on them! And who deserves to have an army more than you? No one!

Plus an army of upgraded Securitrons would be just the thing to show the NCR that you mean business! Go away and stay away, NCR!

The thing is - and I really HATE admitting this - I can’t upgrade the Securitrons over at the Fort from here in the Lucky 38... I can’t establish a reliable connection, and I’m sure it’s all my fault somehow.

But if you took the Platinum Chip to the Fort, you could perform the upgrade yourself. Just a suggestion!

Love,

Yes Man"

He also just outright says this:

"I need you to like me! I feel empty inside!"

------My opinion------

-No matter what you do, or what you say, he will always stay at neutral 50 as his opinion on you in game. It's really up to your fantasies on how he feels on your character (Weirdo)

10/10. I've had multiple occasions of me looking at media of him for so long that when I closed my eyes that goofy face has burned into my optical sensors. Although I can never look at Dave Foley the same, and get jumpscared whenever he shows up in ANYTHING

[thistledropkick]

I don't usually translate NJPW backstage comments, since NJPW posts their own official translations, but I decided to translate Zack, Chris, and Taichi's comments from All Together anyway, or at least, the sections relevant to Dangerous Tekkers. Especially since DDT doesn't translate backstage comments in full, and NJPW doesn't seem to be posting the comment videos anywhere as they usually do?

I translated this part from this video

(My translation starts after a discussion about how Chris forgot to bring Zack's special tag team gear, and about where they might team up next - Zack suggests NJPW)

Chris: Also, hey, why'd you kiss Taichi at the end there?

Zack: I fell in love with him first...

Chris: Eh?

Zack (In English): Yeah. Before you.

Chris: You playboy.

Zack: No way! (laughs) Just a tag partner.

Chris: I understand.

Zack: Hey. Right now, you're my tag partner. Right?

Chris: I guess, I guess

Zack: Ah, you guess? Why's that?

Chris: My words aren't really coming out right. It's fine, it's fine.

I translated these other two from NJPW's Note account, because NJPW hasn't uploaded videos of them yet. I only translated the parts that are relevant to Dangerous Tekkers.

Zack: Suzuki Gun is over. That was very emotional. But, it was fun. It was fun. It's been a while since me and Taichi-san had a singles match. Once, in Noah. Well, shall we have one in New Japan? It'd be best if we were in the same G1 block, I think. New Japan, please make it happen.

Taichi: Well, a whole lot happened today. Of course, I'd had no intention of becoming Sanayan's pitch hitter. I don't particularly like being in that kind of position, but because of it, my opponent was Zack. And that must be his current boyfriend? I don't really know his current boyfriend, "Giant Chris" or something like that. But the fact is, me and him had a singles match in England before. So I do remember him.

I don't even remember who won it, but the singles match I had with him was a good one, so he remained in my memory. Thanks to those two, I was able to show up here, and now my time as Sanayan's mere pitch hitter has come to an end. Well, I can't be ashamed to get results for Just 5 Guys, in whatever form that takes. I will diligently report the results back to Sanayan.

(Taichi goes on a slight tangent to claim that Sanada taught him the Gedo clutch, which can't possibly be true?)

I'm glad I got to wrestle Zack today, and that I got to know his current boyfriend better. So next time, Zack... Of course, I love Zack, so I want to get to know him better. So next time, let's have a singles match together. In whatever form that takes.

If Zack was a champion and held a belt, I'd challenge for it. But he doesn't have one right now so, let's definitely have a singles match somewhere, when the timing works out. That was fun. You've made this middle-aged guy's heart flutter for the first time in a long while. Thanks, Zack. And thanks to you too, Chris. It was fun.

[toa-archive]

Searches are weird. Usually when between things or just needing a quick break, random terms are chucked into a search engine and then scrolled through via image search. You'd be amazed how much stuff has turned up by this method and yesterday when needed a quick break from micro movements to crop an image, they struck again.

Francisco Ruiz Velasco aka Fruiz is one of the more well known artists on ToA if often without people realising it. His blogspot with concept art for the og Trollhunters film was quickly discovered and still shows up on "Hey look uncredited concept art!" articles. His artstation is a source of lots of 3Below and some Wizards mixed in for good measure though it hasn't been updated since.

You can imagine my surprise when of all things Linkedin has been getting concept art for the past month from various projects he's worked on. As that website is very insistent on you having an account first, all artwork uploaded so far has been grabbed so more people can enjoy it :)

As Trollhunters won the poll this is a very recent upload of his from the og film! To quote him:

Source - Please note if you're not logged in you cannot access the full sized image. The above is however you just need to pop it into a separate tab first because of theme weirdness.

Given it's already been confirmed Not!Enrique was kicking around way back when mentions of changelings isn't too big a surprise though it does give a bit more insight into what that storyline was up to. Also more AAARRRGGHH who seems to have lost his fluffy arms by this point! Toby without his coat is also a new one.

[squiddleknitted]

Watching the new James Somerton apology.

Bold move monetising your apology video. The revenue will go to HBomberGuy! Or Wikipedia maybe!?

The focus on how so many people were nice to him feels like he's suggesting nobody should criticise him now that he's been forgiven by the people he personally and directly wronged.

There's an awful lot of weight being placed on "I'm a cis white man." It's like he's trying to take the blame off himself and put it onto the cisness, whiteness, and maleness. Being a cis white man means he will always be flawed, it's a way of avoiding his responsibility for his actions.

He called the fucking cops on someone. He claims the person, "Did an internet and threatened to kill me." He then follows this up by acknowledging that, "Cops don't usually have the best interests of people at heart." I'm not familiar with the Jessie topic but this video explores it and offers context.

Lots of "We tried too hard to be good and that was our real downfall" type bullshit.

On Telos: "These were not going to be unionised movies, and we were very clear about that upfront. We wanted to be able to pay actors as best that we could, but we never expected to be able to reach typical union wages." Do I even need to say it?

Lots of throwing Nick under the bus. What are Nick's pronouns? James goes from using exclusively they/them to exclusively he/him. There's a line about how him and Nick were codependent that makes me wonder if abuse/toxicity allegations are in the future?

He's talking an awful lot about how every movie he tries to do has issues and he inevitably had to move to a new movie plan. Surely he should've just. Focused on how to fix the issue?

He's getting really into the suicide topic again. In a way that would be better saved for close friends and therapists.

Supposedly several people showed up at his house trying to harm him while he was not there. I'm a little skeptical. This is the first I've heard of anyone having his address, and while I'm sure he received threats, I can't imagine anyone is so invested as to actually go to his house.

He is re-uploading videos, including new videos. The re-uploaded videos are monetised and the money will be going... Somewhere.

"I know that misinformation made its way into our past videos." Well, it didn't write itself?

He has put together a new Patreon, and claims he will not be reopening the old one.

"This video is not about promoting myself." And yet, you have spent much of it doing exactly that.

He hasn't acknowledged the ways that some of his work upheld misogynistic and racist views? 43 minute video and he couldn't manage a, "I should've been more normal about nazis," or, "I said some mean things about women."

[bonny-kookoo]

Yoongi

Remember to Forget [Intro]

He praises your work, he boosts your name in the charts, he asks for a song together with you. It would all be perfect; if he wasn't what you feared most.

Tags/Warnings: androphobia (fear of men), mentions of past emotional and physical abuse, medication, panic attacks, insecurities, miscommunication, eventual romance, soloist!Yoongi

!! This work is the rewritten version of an old intro I had. I wasn't happy with it however, so here's the 'new' version. All past warnings for potentially upsetting content still apply, however.

Length: 1.5k words

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

Music hasn't ever been your first choice when it came to your future career. And even now, five years in, you don't necessarily think of yourself as a musician at all. It's just a hobby on the side for you- and it will stay that way, considering you can't really ever give concerts, no matter how many people would visit it.

So you'll continue your life like this- working from home as technical support for a company that doesn't mind your issues with human interaction, earn your regular salary each month, work on music as a hobby on the side, earn a little from that, and take care of the occasional foster dog here and there.

It's a quiet, uneventful life. And you like it like that.

But it doesn't seem like you'll continue on this path, as your phone keeps buzzing, loudly announcing message after message while you're under the shower, unaware until your phone inevitably falls from the side of the sink into it, clattering loudly as it moves around. As soon as you get out and dry yourself, you spot it where it's still occasionally buzzing- and after unlocking it, it's clear what's happened.

Your blood runs cold. Agust D had not only posted a simple Instagram story- but he's mentioned and tagged you in a screenshot of him listening to your most recent song on Spotify?

Of course that would blow up as it does right now- follower count rising on all social medias, good and bad comments flooding in. It's scary how quickly that flood is waving over your existence on the internet, like water through a sieve there's no holding back at all. And it gets worse once you notice the first messages come in- one of them from his account personally. It's a simple message. Obligatory compliments about your work, mentioned surprise of your lack of fame in the industry, and the question to possibly work together on a project in the very near future.

You're not sure what to say about that.

Agust D had been quiet for a little while, but that hadn't impacted his career at all- he was a massive name after all, able to produce the perfect song for people far away out of his own comfort zone. There was nothing he'd touch that would ever truly 'flop'. But watching him on videos, shorts on tiktok, clips of his past concerts and behind the scenes content he'd upload occasionally, you just know there was no way to work with him. He is a man that needed to get to know the people he'd work with at least by meeting them once. He is a guy who got most of his inspiration from meeting people. He's a man that-

He's a man. And that alone makes you too anxious to reply to his message.

And far away from you, in his own apartment, Yoongi re-reads the messages he'd sent, over and over trying to figure out what he might've worded wrongly. He'd messaged the right account- you had no company you worked under, after all, no management because it was truly only you and no one else. You handled your entire career, so there was no one else he could talk to in regards to his offer- or more so request- to work with you on his newest project.

Usually, he gets a reply instantly, no matter from whom he'd message- but its been days by now since he'd sent it to you, and he just knows you must've seen it, considering how the news outlets online had been picking apart the simple short instagram story he'd posted. Like vultures with the chance of new prey they had dug up anything they could about you, frustration evident in not only the reporters but also fans and others curious about you, because there really wasn't much to find. And he'd cleared up on a livestream he'd done recently that he also didn't joke about genuinely enjoying your music, despite the rather contrasting genres. He'd also taken the chance to tell his fans to stop the rather impolite digging in your backyard, so to speak. If you didn't want certain information out, you'd have your reasons.

Maybe you just didn't want to work with him? He sighs to himself, leaning back in his office chair, crossing his arms.

Of course that's a possibility, and he doesn't usually beg for anything. He doesn't have to- he can find someone else of similar quality, probably, and just work with that person. But there's something about your work that just captured him at this point, every little track you'd uploaded on various platforms making your passion for the art of music pretty clear to him. Even the ones he'd call rather low quality still held something precious in them. Honesty, something raw and unique, perfectly imperfect.

He really wants to work with you- you seem perfect for what he's got in mind.

So he tries again, a little less formal in an attempt to maybe be seen as a bit more gentle than he appears to most people. He knows how intimidating this all must be for you- from what he's gathered, you're not a full-time musician like he is, you're rather doing it as a hobby on the side for reasons unclear. You've got the clear potential to make it big. You've got fans, people who'd happily pay for even just a tiny concert in a basement somewhere, just like he'd started years and years ago. But you don't really do that- you decline any venue offering to host you, and he doesn't know why.

Well, some people don't want the fame. Maybe you're one of those.

'I'm sorry, but I can't.'

So he adds another message.

'I can simply keep you as a ghost-writer or something on the track. Or tracks- I'm not sure yet.'

he writes you, sighs before he types another message. But before he can, you've finally replied- and it's not quite what he hoped you'd send him.

And for some reason, that just makes him all the more curious. Because you wrote that you can't- not that you don't want. So what's holding you back?

'Can I ask why not?'

he wonders, and it takes a good little while until you reply again.

But it's nothing like that, as you finally answer.

'It's going to come out at some point either way now.'

you write, and he's biting his own lip as he can't help but let his mind run to reasons you might not be able to work with other artists, or why you need to stay anonymous this badly. Are you a criminal? Wanted murderer? Or have you done other things in the past that would make you turn out to be a bad person?

'I'm scared of men.'

'I'm sorry.'

you write.

'Diagnosed androphobia from a past relationship gone south.'

You dryly reveal, and for some reason, that's even worse to him. Because now he worries he might've made you uncomfortable with his pressure- even though he didn't know what you were going through up to this point. It explains a lot, now that he thinks about it- why you don't do concerts, why you tend to stay out of the media, why you don't really post any pictures of yourself. If you're this scared of men, you must be absolutely terrified now that he's put you on the inevitable pedestal to be gawked at by thousands.

he writes because of that.

'I didn't know- if I had, I wouldn't have put you into a situation like that.'

he regretfully lets you know, but you answer a bit quicker now.

'It's fine.'

you tell him.

'like you said, you didn't know. There's no undoing that now anyways.'

You write, before you give him another message.

'I appreciate the compliments though :) '

you offer, and his chest feels a bit lighter.

'Of course'

he sends you.

'we can always just work together remotely. Is that okay for you?'

he asks hopeful, and it takes quite a while before you respond again.

'But you don't work like that'

you tell him back.

'And truth be told, I should maybe work on my fear anyways.'

you write.

'Would you like me to help?'

he sends without thinking. And before he can even take back his words, you've replied already.

'no one can really help me with that..'

you text him, before another one is received quickly after.

'but judging from the way you write, you might be my best bet'

'what do I write like?'

he asks with a questioning emoji to lift the mood, and you laugh on the other end in your apartment, unbeknownst to him.

'like a guy I could trust.'

you text him back.

Unaware of what those simple written words mean to him.

[overtake]

Not to be weird but I feel like I got zapped when I read your hockey snippet, how didn't I know that this existed? It's literally been living my brain for hours and I've not been able to stop re-reading it since 🙃 clearly you can take the girl out of toronto but you can't take toronto out the girl because im a changed person now. No pressure ofc I mean this in non-prodding way but praying and willing you to put your snippets together. If you never come around to it then I'm glad (and changed) for what you've shared with world regardless 🙏🏻🙏🏻

This is SO sweet 🥹 I love you so much. Just for this, please have a bit more hockey au. There's a tiny snippet after a media bit (Surprise, this fic is multi-media! Writing the social media parts has been my fave part of the entire process)

@.MapleLeafs on TikTok: | December 12, 2023

[Players walk by a whiteboard on their way into the practice rink. They're stopped to answer the question written on it as they enter. The caption written over their heads reads: "Who don’t your Leafs want to sit next to on a flight?"]

ALEX ALBON: Easy one. Esteban Ocon. He’ll bite your head off if you make a single noise. I think he’d get mad if the plane was going down and you tried to warn him. LOGAN SARGEANT: Gasly or Ocon. I don’t know if it’s a French thing, but they both get really annoyed if you talk to them on a plane. PIERRE GASLY: Danny Ric. He is the loudest person I’ve ever met in my life. ESTEBAN OCON: Daniel Ricciardo. Sorry, Daniel. DANIEL RICCIARDO: Gasly. Max and I were just having a conversation and he rose up behind us and nearly bit our heads off for laughing. I don’t know why he keeps sitting near us. MAX VERSTAPPEN: I don’t really mind sitting next to anyone. I usually sit next to Daniel, and we have a good time. He keeps movies downloaded for us. They're often not very good, but that's sometimes more fun, you know? YUKI TSUNODA: Daniel. VALTERRI BOTTAS: Daniel Ricciardo. ZHOU GUANYU: Daniel. He is very nice and fun, but sometimes you just want to relax on a flight. MARCUS ERICCSON: Surely everyone except Max picked Daniel, right? FERNANDO ALONSO: I don’t want to sit next to anyone.

Mara (DR’s Reputation Era) @.mv33fan: Fernando Alonso: I hate this entire team The entire team: We hate Daniel and the French Max and Daniel: Ask again later. Our mouths are occupied with each other’s dicks.

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Theoretically, Daniel knew that his and Max's pre-game ritual could end up on the broadcast. Butt taps and silly handshakes in the tunnel inevitably end up on team Instagram stories even if they don't air on TV. It was to be expected, particularly on a Saturday night game against Ottawa.

Still, he didn’t exactly expect a whole montage. It's a nice little package, to be fair. It shows him and Max laughing next to each other in the tunnels and locker rooms before games, followed by their fingers interlocking in their usual drawn-out high five. Daniel prefers to fist bump the whole team and exit only before the goalies, but his routine with Max is always a bit of a production that holds up the line. It's only a surprise it hasn't been uploaded sooner.

After a game where Max scored two goals and Daniel threw his body in front of a rogue deflection and stopped the Sens from a late-third tie, the media naturally focuses on the montage. God forbid they talk about actual fucking hockey in the hockey interview.

“We call it tangled love,” he tells reporters in the press scrum after the game. “In honour of our artistic collision last game.”

It wasn’t a real collision. They’d just got tangled up together when things got chippy by the net. Their skates had collided and they'd taken each other out while trying to defend Esteban from some Habs players. It was all over social media, though, and Daniel knew they’d end up in some embarrassing NHL moments compilation.

They’d both laid on the ice, a little stunned and a lot stupid, before Daniel let out a giant laugh and broke the tension. Max had risen to his feet and tried to pull up Daniel, only for them both to fall right back down as if this was the first time they'd ever skated.

They’d actually been doing this little handshake all season, but reporters were always happy for a soundbite to latch onto and a joke they’d never let go. There's not much to work with in this league in the way of on-camera personality, so it’d probably be a story for the next week. The go-karting clips of the two of them were so popular than even Max mentioned he’d seen them on Reels, and he’d carefully curated his feed to show him anything but Leafs content.

Daniel can’t explain it, this warmth that makes him feel like he’s glowing from inside out all the time since the season started, but he knows he feels it most when he sees people write his name alongside Max’s like their togetherness is a given.