#think some people need to go outside and interact with real people for a while lmao

[seddair]

I love how well I’ve curated my dash, because the only time I really ever see shitty takes is when it gets vagueposted about, and boy am I glad I haven’t actually seen these posts lmao.

[meowse]

That AMA marks the end of Dragon Age.

In my opinion.

I'll start by saying that I have played all 3 of the previous games repeatedly, I've loved the series for 15 years, more than half my life. These games inspired me to become a writer and they've shaped a lot of my tastes and interests in shows and writing -- to say they were formative is kind of an understatement. Don't want to go on and on about how much I loved them, that's not the point here.

I didn't care for Veilguard for pretty much all of the reasons people have already discussed at length on Reddit and Tumblr. The writing is comprehensively bad, the romances are easily the worst Bioware has written by pure virtue of having the most cookie-cutter pacing and shallow characterization I've seen across their games, the lore has been shafted in every direction, and the nuanced storytelling and roleplay I came to expect from the series has been taken out back and shot in the head.

All, apparently, in the name of a "clean slate". It seems to me that, rather than familiarizing himself with the existing lore of the game he took the creative reins on, Epler clearly had a vision for Dragon Age (or perhaps a different IP entirely) in his head that he decided to transplant into the game (and possibly Trick? But they've said so little beyond defending their work that I can hardly theorize what direction they were coming from). That being a sanitized, wildly self-contradicting, morally absolute shitshow focused on distancing itself from the previous games as much as possible. Now, I know it's unrealistic to blame one person entirely, and I don't blame him entirely. Corinne was there. Trick was there.

But if it wasn't already evident from the numerous interviews Epler's given on the game as well as his participation in the Q&A's (while the actual lead writer of the game has been completely absent in not just the marketing, but in most fan-related interaction pre and post-launch outside of BSKY), this AMA seems to have confirmed, more than anything else, that Epler doesn't understand the game nor does he understand its audience. Neither does Corinne Busche, who despite being Game Director for only the last two years of development, has been answering lore questions a) like she has any fucking clue and b) like she thinks Dragon Age is a cozy-gamer IP, meant to appeal to people that want uplifting stories with uncontroversial characters, morally upright heroes, and unquestionably evil villains.

So as of today's AMA, I think I've finally had enough. We're just outright retconning the lore in Reddit AMA's now, I guess. Among other things. I'll provide a few examples, just so we're all on the same page.

This was part of Epler's response to why Solas didn't have his cult following in the game (insert "We Kind of Forgot" meme here):

Solas' experience leading the rebellion against the Evanuris turned him against the idea of being a leader. You see it in the memories - the entire experience of being in charge ate at him and, ultimately, convinced him he needed to do this on his own. And his own motivations were very different from the motivations of those who wanted to follow him - he had no real regard for their lives or their goals. So at some point between Trespasser and DATV, he severed that connection with his 'followers' and went back to being a lone wolf.

The fact that this (the not caring bit) directly contradicts the writing in the actual game is absolutely INSANE to me, moreso than the lack of Solas's spy network (which he apparently carried with him for 10 years only to conveniently drop right before the ritual? Because he clearly had them research Rook?). But in regards to the not caring -- here's a line from Solas's memory of killing Mythal in Veilguard, which. I'll get to Mythal in a minute:

Why should I not tear down the Veil, and bring back immortality to all the elven people? They deserve it!

Which is it? Does Solas care about the people he's saving (the venn diagram of people he's saving vs. the people following him is surely a circle, i.e. elves) or not? Does he even care about the spirits trapped behind the Veil anymore or is it just convenient to abandon them and have him only care about elves, now? What happened to saving The People? What happened to him not identifying as an elf in his conversations with a Dalish Inquisitor? And what the absolute fuck happened to him wanting to bring back the magical marvels (that the ancient elves did in fact achieve) that were greater than anything we see in Thedas today? Here's what Epler has to say about elven magic, now:

I do agree that the elves have had their place in the sun at this point. [...] The thing about the Evanuris is that, ultimately, they were able to take a very specific type of magic and shape it into doing what they wanted. But even their understanding of magic was only skin deep [...] Even the magic that Tevinter wields, the magic of the Southern mages, is different from what the Evanuris used. The magic of the Evanuris is powerful but it's sterile, and it's constrained. So while the Evanuris have made magic work in a way that's more predictable and understandable, it's not the only kind of magic out there, and even then, I'd say they understood it at a very surface level. People were confidently describing how the natural world worked back in the 16th century. Very few of them were right.

First of all, Tevinter has been stated in previous games to have clumsily adapted ancient elven magic for their own, but they did adapt it. To the point where even Solas is surprised that Corypheus achieved effective immortality -- by binding himself to a dragon the same way the Evanuris did. So, cool, more contradicting the lore here. "They understood it at a very surface level" you mean when all of the magic of the Fade wasn't locked behind the Veil? You mean when magic flowed freely through the world? What do you mean, Surface Fucking Level? The entire point of the Dalish elf culture is what they lost; this wasn't the ancient elves thinking the sun revolved around the earth, the Veil was their fucking Library of Alexandria burning. Oh my god. I still cannot believe he said this.

And how have the elves had their day in the sun? I'm sorry, was Arlathan not given to... the Veil Jumpers? Instead of the Dalish? What happened to all the Dalish clans in the south, who had no infrastructure when the world was apparently blighted to hell? I guess they're just gone now! They've had their day! The story of the Dalish and the Evanuris is over (also confirmed in this AMA), and it apparently ends with the final snuff of the candle that is their culture. Congratulations, Chantry, you've won! Only took two genocides and a double blight, but we're done with the Dalish now! We get your mind-numbingly superficial factions instead!

What happened to Mythal, by the way? What happened to "She was betrayed as I was betrayed, as the world was betrayed! Mythal clawed and crawled her way through the ages to me, and I will see her avenged!" What happened to the reckoning that will shake the very heavens? John's answer to this:

People grow and change over time. Mythal's essence - and in particular, the fragment of her spirit that Morrigan carries, that she got from Flemeth - is not the same Mythal who he knew millennia ago. Centuries of living in this world and being around the kinds of people Flemeth found herself around - the Hero of Ferelden, Hawke, the Inquisitor - changed her views, and made her realize her own culpability in turning Solas into the kind of person he is now.

Oh, right, okay. So she was pissed for like a thousand years, got her big speech about the impending "reckoning" out 10 years ago, and then she just chilled out because the last 3 heroes were neat people. What a fucking joke. And yes, here is the confirmation that the Evanuris story is over --

The story of the Evanuris is done - the gods are dead (or imprisoned) and Thedas is in a state of flux and uncertainty. I imagine that whatever happens next is going to be a surprise to everyone, including the people of Thedas."

So I guess Mythal's reckoning is never coming. One of the most fascinating characters in the series, shrouded in mystery for those first 3 games, PROMISING US a blaze of glory, only to fizzle out in this one. Again, and I can't emphasize this enough, for Epler's clean fucking slate. And we've not just tied up her story, but also the Veil and the Blight:

When Solas bound himself (or, depending on your ending, was forcibly bound) to the Veil, it severed the connection that the Blight had to the waking world. The reality is that the Veil has been leaking ever since the Magisters first entered the Black City, and the dreams of the Titans gave it its terrible and awesome power. Now that the Veil is fully repaired, the Blight lacks that motive force, and being so close to the epicenter of that change has stripped the Blight in Minrathous of its vitality. It's calcified now - dead - and Bellara/Neve no longer suffer its effects. If they'd been anywhere else, further from that epicenter, it would've likely been different and they still would be looking for a cure.

So the Veil is permanently fixed now because our half-dead Dread Wolf bound himself to it (a decision I still don't understand) and that somehow fixed every single hole ever poked in it. Fully repaired. No more holes, no more "Veil is thin here" because tons of people died in the same spot, nope, we're washing our hands and leaving it (and the spirits) behind us because we've wrapped up both the series-long Veil storyline and the blight storyline in a big red bow.

And Epler tells us Solas not only bound himself to the Veil but fixed it entirely in one fell swoop, no ritual required, just a little slice to the hand. Again, all in the name of a clean slate, so any future installments or media centered around Thedas can turn away from this story.

Then there's this. What we can expect from future installments, I freaking guess. The aforementioned roleplay getting taken out back and shot:

Q: "What lead you to the decision to step away from active conversations with the companions as in previous Bioware games, where you can initiate them at any moment and ask exhaustive questions?"

John: "For us, because of tech limitations, it became a choice between exhaustive investigate conversations, or letting the companions move more freely around the Lighthouse. With the kind of experience we were going for, one where seeing the team grow around you is paramount, we felt that seeing them interact in common spaces (and in each other's rooms) made more sense."

Literally confirmed that they chose companions moving freely about the cabin over ... interacting with them outside the handful of cutscenes we got. Who in their right mind would think this was a good call in a Dragon Age game? A series that quite literally prides itself on complex character interactions and storytelling? So they could... sit in different places? Are you kidding me?

They don't see an issue with the game's reception. They don't have any interest in addressing or responding to criticism. They're either happy with their choices or EA's got a gun pointed at their heads, I'm honestly not sure anymore. I used to believe the latter was true, but looking at both Epler's and Busche's responses today, I'm inclined to believe the former.

So I think that's it for the series. Not that I thought it was going to get another game after this, but on the absolute off chance it did, what would be the point? The best stories were ruined. Anything left they have to tell is going to read a lot like Veilguard -- superficial, morally absolute, flagrantly disrespectful to the lore, and delivered in a very poorly written package.

[drchucktingle]

my masks

hey there buckaroos. due to all of the attention the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION situation has gotten i am going to take a minute to talk about my personal way as an autistic buckaroo. im going to tell you about my masks.

im doing this for a few reasons, some are good FUN reasons full of love and some are not so great. 

lets start with the GOOD STUFF. first of all, i am talking about this because speaking on my way can help other buckaroo feel more comfortable speaking on there own way, ESPECIALLY if they are good at ‘passing’ for neurotypical like chuck is. 

unfortunately the NOT SO GREAT reasons im talking about all this dang stuff are two fold. reason one: i have been put into a position of having to explain and justify my needs and boundaries by the TXLA. this is not something that i WANT to be taking up all of my time, but when large organizations do not make space for those who they have pledged to support, it puts us smaller buckaroos into position where were have to defend our existence. it is not plesent but it is necessary.

the second NOT SO GREAT reason is that ‘passing’ bisexual and autistic people like myself are ALWAYS just seconds from being gatekept from folks both outside and inside these communities. there will probably be a day on chucks deathbed where i take off my mask and say hello to this timeline (mostly so you can all see how handsome i am under here but I DIGRESS). i KNOW with absolute certainty (the same way other bi and autistic buckaroos are probably nodding along right now) that when that day comes i will STILL be accused of ‘not being real’ and ‘faking’ because i ‘dont look autistic’ and i have a beautiful ladybuck partner in sweet barbara.

ALL THAT IS TO SAY, i am taking a moment today to talk FOR THE RECORD about my neurodigence and my particular needs. hopefully i will not have to keep diving this deep every time an organization takes a discrimantory action against me, but i will also say this: at least it is a good fight on an important battlefield

anyway buds, here is the story of my way on the spectrum

when i was a young buckaroo i knew that my thought process was different. i could socialize easily, which is unique in contrast to many autistic buds (it is a spectrum after all), but my social ease was for an interesting reason. I ALWAYS KNEW WHAT OTHERS WERE ABOUT TO SAY. it was like a strange ‘human game’ where someone would say one thing and i would think ‘well you actually mean something else’ in a sort of logical way (this is why i later related to DATA from star trek so dang much). at first i remember thinking ‘well i am just NOT going to play along with this human game’. i quickly learned neurotypical buckaroos do not like this, that there is a BOB AND WEAVE to social interactions that must be learned. 

later i realized ‘actually if i WANT to make friends and prove love is real then i can do this like an expert because i can SEE the game where most cant’. this got chuck many buds and took me on many adventures. please understand, i am not saying these connections are not important to me, they are just different. they are full of love, but i express this in my own unique way.

HOWEVER, while growing up i felt disconnected from this timeline in other ways, like an alien or a reverse twin trotting along in a world that is not quite my own. i did not feel emotions the same way my buds did. they would get upset over the ‘human game’ interactions and i would not be moved at all, HOWEVER i could see the way sunlight hit a window and start crying my dang eyes out over the beauty. so my emotion was still there and VERY STRONG, i just felt it in more existential ways (like hearing the call of the lonesome train). these days that feeling has progressed to where i am pretty much in a constant blissed out state of cosmic emotional connection (make of that last sentence what you will, but it is the truth). when i make existential posts online i am not just FIRING OFF SOME CONTENT, i really mean every word. this is really my trot.

anyway as a young buckaroo these feelings made me worry sometimes. i thought about various mental health dianosises and marked the parts and pieces that matched with myself. am i this? am i that? sometimes, instead of just being’ different’ i worried i might actually be ‘wrong’. 

when i saw david byrne on letterman in my younger days i immediately recognized something connected to myself. i thought ‘wow this is the mystery being solved before my very eyes.’ i could hear it in the music of talking heads too. i started doing research and realized that i might be on autism spectrum, something that was later confirmed by a therapist (back then the diagnosis was called asperger's). it was a glorious and fulfilling moment. i was SO EXCITED TO BE AUTISTIC LIKE MY HERO. i felt very cool because of it, and i still feel very cool because of it.

one of the big reasons i talk so much about being autistic these days is because i want to make sure OTHER buckaroos can have that same moment that i did. they can see chuck and think ‘wow i really like this autistic artist, maybe being autistic is cool’

so what does an average day WITHOUT wearing the pink bag look like for me?

my thought process is exactly like ROSE from CAMP DAMASCUS, which is part of why i wrote the book. we have the same stim (complex order of finger taps), we prepare for social interactions the same way, we analyze things in the same logical trot that neurotypical people might think feels ‘detached’ but for me feels natural (certain reviews of camp damascus are very funny to me in this way. you can tell when a reader is just very confused by existing in an autistic brain for 250 pages.)

from the outside you would not be able to tell that i am on the spectrum. in fact you would probably find me very socially adept. 

the problem is, all of that masking can take its toll. i spent years trotting in and out the emergency room, talking to confused doctors who could not figure out the chronic phantom tension and pain that radiated through my body. i eventually accepted the fact that i would either live a life constantly on heavy painkillers or just stop living altogether.

eventually, however, i started noticing a correlation between the way that i felt, and the space that i allowed for chuck and the pink mask. i was exercising that tension, allowing my mental mask of neurotypical existence to take a rest. i started practicing physical therapy and this time THE RESULTS STUCK because i was approaching from two sides, MIND AND BODY. after a while, i got my pain down to about 5 percent of what it once was. i still have flare ups in times of stress, but the healing has been very real and life changing.

lets get VERY specific now. if i attended the TXLA confrence without a mask and gave my talk i can tell you this: i would do a dang good job. i can work the heck out of a crowd and (not to reveal too much about my secret way) I HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO DO THIS ON OCCASION VERY WELL. however, going home from this event i would very likely be in pain. i would likely need to do physical therapy. i would likely need to stim for a while. i would NOT be emotionally fullfilled in the same way. in other words, without my pink mask i can charm the heck out of buckaroos, but THE SPACE OF CHUCK TINGLE IS NOT THE SPACE FOR THAT. the pink bag is a place for me to not have to put up with that tension. it is a place for me to unmask mentally by masking physically.

this pink bag space SAVED MY LIFE and i am not going to risk blurring these lines. if and when that ever happens it will be MY decision, not someone elses. that is my boundary. the part of me that neurotypically masks could handle a library conference in a purely technical sense, but the part of me that chuck represents absolutely cannot and should not be asked to do that without the pink bag. unfortunately, the complexity of this point makes it even MORE difficult for me to think about and takes up even more of my time, because it forces me to START QUESTIONING MYSELF and my own needs. to be honest, that is the most insidious part of other people questioning your identify and refusing to accept your accommodation needs without ‘proof’.

the thing is, while all of this discussion of disability and accessibility is important, i have a much larger point to make by writing these words.

a conference should not uninvite someone with an unusual physical presentation or a strange way of speaking REGARDLESS of it being classified as a disability. it does not matter WHY i look the way that i look and wear what i wear. i should not have to spend all day writing this post instead of writing my next book, just because my sensibilities are unique and my presentation is unusual. 

fortunately the solution is very simple: let other people be themselves. its not hurting you to simply accept and nod at the buckaroos you think look strange. let us exist

[weirdmageddon]

i was thinking about this since i posted earlier about us needing to address the trend of gen z men being pulled into alt-right pipelines might have contributed to the outcome of this election.

i think contrapoints is really smart, and from what i’ve seen, has been way more effective at getting people out of harmful ideological pipelines than i’ve seen from the majority of leftists online who instead berate and drive a greater wedge of antipathy (though i understand why! and it can be very hard to have empathy for the people who see you as a threat). that antipathy makes the right more radicalized because they don’t feel like they can talk about anything without the “crazy lefties” who won’t even engage with them. where did these issues come from?

what i’ve noticed, and i’m even guilty of this, is that people don’t interact with groups of people whom they refuse talk to, which makes realities more hypothetical in the minds of their opponent since they aren’t open to seeing reality from their perspective. this is true on both sides. from what i’ve observed, it seems to originate from hypothetical perception of the opponent, but when people treat those perceptions as though they are real, it becomes real with their actions, which then makes the antipathy justified to someone. again, on both sides.

what makes contrapoints so successful at breaking this down is that is that she creates these socratic dialogue skits that represent real people and ideologies, has a sense of humor, isn’t afraid to discuss these things, reframes how we see these things by introducing nuance to both sides. she’s a leftist, but she also knows how to engage without ripening division, of meeting someone halfway and being completely humble about it. she is able to soften extremes.

she is able to get into the mind of people who aren’t aligned with her views, understand the nuance and rationales from a realistic perspective, breaking down a big block of “this is all bad” into “ok, some of this makes sense…”, what this does is create a space for self-reflection that doesn’t feel ham-fisted (which could otherwise cause people to double down on their beliefs instead of opening up to other perspectives outside of their bubble). while also being entertaining and well-produced on top of it.

what she is doing is creating these scenarios and socratic discussions that SHOULD be happening in real life but aren’t in this polarized social climate.

i graduated from new college of florida this spring, the small liberal arts college that was in headlines across the country for ron desantis’s board of trustees hostile takeover and exodus of professors.

new students and student athletes from conservative walks of life were being basically incentivized to go there who were taught to fear the lgbt boogeyman growing up in their conservative communities. but once they actually interacted with lgbt students there, many of them they felt like they understood them, and they weren’t as bad as they were told they would be. new college of florida was also famous for getting derek black (child of the man who created stormfront, and godchild of the kkk grand wizard david duke) out of white nationalism. their peers at NCF called them out but also interacted with them, invited them to dinner. black wrote a book about it.

now of course some people are too far gone and you shouldn’t waste your time with them, like derek’s family for example. but i also think a lot of people who voted for trump are not informed, are operating off of emotion and knee-jerk mentality because it’s easier than thinking, and they are not seeing the discussions that need to be had to change their mind because fuckin…nobody is doing them.

and we feel this visceral disgust to people of the opposing party because of its associations. i just want to know how it happened and how we got to be like this. i think social media is partly to blame and also the algorithms that take people down dangerous pipelines and sharpen them, insulate them.

i myself understand the vitriol you might have for anyone that voted for trump. i feel so disappointed that half the people of this country voted against our collective benefit. and i’ve seen a lot of sentiment from the left today saying “every single person who voted for trump is dead to me. i disowned you”.

you can see the reality of trump’s demagoguery, and it’s so obvious, but what i want to know is: what do they see? why did they vote for him? emotion and entertainment travel faster and have more reach than reason. and it’s that’s why i think contrapoints’s videos are exemplary at tackling this ideological divide. this is something i’ve been thinking about for months before today and i thought now was a better time than ever to give my two cents on it.

[gottencents]

Casual Pt.2 - Yu Jimin

part one. | part three.

pairing. mean girl!karina x star soccer player!reader

synopsis. at Changryeo University, Yu Jimin or just Karina is the ultimate “mean rich girl” — popular, wealthy, and always seeking ways to stay on top. After setting her sights on Sunghoon, the charming soccer captain, Karina shifts her focus to Y/N, an up-and-coming soccer star with an unexpected breakout season. Unlike the polished Sunghoon, Y/N is more of an outsider who got by on talent but doesn’t fit the typical college elite mold. Realizing that Y/N is the only one who doesn’t care about the social hierarchy, Karina proposes a deal: they’ll fake date so Karina can boost her popularity, while Y/N gets protection from relentless attention. Reluctantly, Y/N agrees, and the two navigate a world of social manipulation, only to find that their fake relationship might lead to something more real than either expected.

Life didn’t slow down after the gala. If anything, it picked up.

Y/N had never cared much for gossip, but now she was at the center of it. Whispers followed her everywhere—on the soccer field, in the hallways, even in her own dorm. She couldn’t go a full hour without hearing Karina’s name mentioned in some capacity.

“Did you see the way Karina was looking at her?”

“They actually look good together, I won’t lie.”

“I heard Karina ditched someone else at the gala just to be with Y/N.”

None of it made sense. Y/N didn’t do the whole socialite thing—she played soccer, went to class, and tried not to overcomplicate her life. But now, she was part of a spectacle. And the worst part? Karina didn’t seem fazed by it at all.

If anything, she leaned into it.

Y/N had expected the whole PR relationship to be something manageable—occasional public interactions, staged appearances, nothing too deep. But Karina was relentless. She found excuses to be around Y/N at every opportunity.

She’d slip into the seat next to her at lunch, steal bites of her food like they were an old married couple, casually wrap an arm around her shoulder in the middle of campus as if it were second nature.

Y/N, for her part, didn’t know how to handle it.

One afternoon, she was heading to the library when Karina materialized beside her.

“Where are we going?” Karina asked, as if she had been part of the plan all along.

Y/N sighed. “We are not going anywhere. I’m going to study.”

Karina hummed, unfazed. “I’ll join.”

Y/N stopped in her tracks, turning to face her. “Do you even need to study?”

Karina smirked. “I don’t, but you’re far more entertaining than my usual plans.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“It is now,” Karina said, looping her arm through Y/N’s with a victorious gleam in her eyes. “C’mon, humor me.”

Y/N let out a long-suffering sigh but didn’t pull away.

It was the same every day. Karina inserting herself into Y/N’s life with ease, chipping away at the space Y/N had carefully built around herself.

The worst part? It wasn’t as annoying as it should’ve been.

The library was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of pages and the soft tapping of fingers against laptop keyboards. Y/N sat at a corner table, deep in her notes, trying to ignore the weight of Karina’s gaze on her.

“Why are you staring at me?” Y/N muttered without looking up.

Karina, seated across from her, rested her chin on her palm, a small smile playing on her lips. “Just thinking.”

Y/N glanced up warily. “Thinking about what?”

Karina tilted her head slightly. “How different we are.”

Y/N scoffed. “Wow. That deep, huh?”

Karina chuckled, then leaned forward, lowering her voice. “No, but really. You don’t like attention, and I live in it. You keep people at arm’s length, and I let them think they know me. You run from things, and I run straight into them.”

Y/N paused, twirling her pen between her fingers. “That was poetic.”

Karina smirked. “I have my moments.”

Y/N looked down at her notes, trying to focus, but her mind was elsewhere. There was something about the way Karina said things—like she was peeling back layers one at a time, seeing more than she let on.

And Y/N wasn’t sure if she was ready for that.

It became a pattern. Karina showing up unannounced. Y/N pretending to be annoyed. Karina staying anyway.

One night, Y/N had barely kicked off her cleats after a late practice when a knock came at her door.

She sighed, already knowing who it was.

“Karina, it’s almost midnight,” Y/N groaned as she opened the door.

Karina, looking effortlessly put together as always, leaned against the doorframe with an easy smile. “And?”

Y/N sighed, stepping aside. “Just get in.”

Karina walked in like she belonged there, settling on Y/N’s bed.

Y/N leaned against her desk, arms crossed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Karina shrugged. “I was bored.”

Y/N raised a brow. “So your solution was to bother me?”

“Obviously.” Karina smirked before patting the spot beside her. “Sit.”

Y/N hesitated but eventually relented, sitting on the edge of the bed.

For a moment, there was silence. A rare, comfortable kind.

Then Karina spoke, her voice softer than usual. “Does it bother you?”

Y/N glanced at her. “What?”

Karina looked at her then, something unreadable in her expression. “That everyone thinks this is real.”

Y/N opened her mouth, then closed it. She hadn’t really thought about it like that.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I mean, it’s weird, sure. But… it’s not as bad as I thought it’d be.”

Karina hummed, watching her carefully. “Not as bad, huh?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

Karina chuckled but didn’t push. Instead, she leaned back, stretching out on the bed like she had all the time in the world.

“You know,” Karina mused, “for someone who claims to hate this arrangement, you don’t push me away.”

Y/N exhaled through her nose. “Maybe I’m just getting used to you.”

Karina’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Good.”

Y/N turned away, hoping Karina didn’t notice the warmth creeping up her neck.

Because the truth was—she didn’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, Karina Yu had stopped feeling like just an obligation.

And that realization was dangerous.

It wasn’t obvious at first.

Not in the way Karina always found her in a crowded room.

Not in the way Y/N started looking for Karina before realizing it.

Not in the way Karina’s teasing had softened, or the way Y/N had stopped resisting when Karina pulled her closer in public.

But it was there.

A shift.

A quiet, undeniable shift in whatever this was.

And Y/N didn’t know what scared her more—the fact that she noticed it, or the fact that she didn’t mind.

Days turned into weeks, and whatever this thing was between Y/N and Karina—it wasn’t fading. If anything, it was intensifying.

It was in the way Karina’s eyes always found Y/N in a crowded room, lingering just a little too long before she looked away. The way their casual touches never really felt casual, fingers brushing a second longer than necessary, an arm draped over Y/N’s shoulder with a grip that felt possessive rather than playful.

And it was in the way Karina had started showing up more.

At first, Y/N thought it was just part of the act—maintaining their public image, reinforcing their “relationship” so people kept talking. But Karina was there even when there was no audience to perform for. When Y/N left soccer practice exhausted, Karina would be waiting, leaning against the fence with a smug smirk and an iced coffee she’d pretend was a thoughtful gift rather than a blatant bribe.

When Y/N studied in the library, Karina found her, sitting across from her without a word, pretending to read but spending more time kicking Y/N’s foot under the table.

And the worst part?

Y/N didn’t mind.

Not really.

She told herself it was fine. That she was used to Karina’s presence now, used to the way she inserted herself into Y/N’s life like she belonged there. But then there were moments—brief, fleeting moments—where Y/N caught herself looking at Karina too long, where she caught herself waiting for Karina’s next move.

And she wasn’t sure what scared her more: that Karina seemed to be doing the same thing, or that Y/N was starting to want her to.

The café was warm, filled with the low hum of conversation and the rhythmic tapping of rain against the windows. Y/N had claimed a seat by the window, her textbook open in front of her, though she wasn’t actually reading. Her mind had drifted somewhere else, too preoccupied to focus on the words in front of her.

Across from her, Karina was scrolling through her phone, chin propped on her hand. They had been sitting like this for almost an hour, saying nothing, just existing in the same space. It was easy now—this quiet thing between them.

Then, without looking up, Karina spoke.

“My mom called earlier.”

Y/N glanced up from her book, arching a brow. “Yeah?”

Karina hummed. “She saw the gala pictures.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, turning a page she hadn’t actually read. “And?”

Karina finally looked up, a small smirk playing on her lips. “She said you look good next to me.”

Y/N snorted. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

Karina tilted her head slightly, watching Y/N with that unreadable gaze of hers. “It means she approves.”

Y/N huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “Of the fake relationship?”

Karina’s smirk didn’t waver. “Of you.”

Y/N felt something stir in her chest, something unfamiliar and dangerous. She looked down at her book, trying to push it away.

Karina had a way of saying things like they meant nothing when they felt like everything.

And Y/N didn’t know how to deal with that.

The sun had long since set, casting the soccer field in a dim glow from the overhead lights. Most of the team had already left, but Y/N had lingered, taking a few extra shots on goal, running a few more drills until she was exhausted.

By the time she stepped out of the locker room, her body ached in that familiar way that came after pushing herself too hard. She was rolling her shoulders, trying to ease the tension, when she spotted a figure leaning against the fence.

Karina.

Y/N sighed, approaching her. “You know, you don’t have to meet me after practice.”

Karina smiled lazily, completely unbothered. “I know.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Then why are you here?”

Karina tilted her head slightly, like she was debating how much to say. Then she shrugged. “Maybe I like seeing you in your element.”

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Karina grinned. “And yet, here you are, talking to me instead of running away.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

Karina stepped closer then, reaching out. Without thinking, Y/N let her.

Karina’s fingers brushed against Y/N’s jaw, her touch light, fleeting. “You have dirt on your face,” she murmured before wiping it away with her thumb.

Y/N felt her breath hitch, her pulse suddenly too loud in her ears.

Karina didn’t move back.

She was close—too close. Close enough that Y/N could see the way her smirk had softened into something else. Something almost unsure.

And for the first time, Y/N wondered—was she just as scared of this as Y/N was?

“Y/N,” Karina said quietly.

Y/N swallowed. “Yeah?”

A beat of silence. Then Karina shook her head, stepping back with an easy smile, as if the moment hadn’t just happened.

“Nothing,” she said. “Walk me back?”

Y/N hesitated but eventually fell into step beside her.

And as they walked, neither of them mentioned how, for a split second, something almost happened.

Something real.

And neither of them knew what to do about it.

The thing about slow changes is that you don’t always notice them as they happen.

Y/N wasn’t sure when exactly it started—when Karina’s presence in her life stopped feeling like an invasion and started feeling like… something else. Something expected. Something constant.

Maybe it was the way Karina always seemed to find her, even when she wasn’t looking. Or the way Y/N had started instinctively saving her a seat at lunch, despite grumbling about it every time Karina smugly took it.

Maybe it was the way Karina’s teasing had softened, how the smirks weren’t always accompanied by sharp words anymore. How sometimes, when she looked at Y/N, she wasn’t performing for an audience.

Or maybe it was Y/N herself—how she had stopped questioning why Karina was around so much and started wondering what it would feel like if she wasn’t.

But then again, acknowledging that thought would mean acknowledging everything else—the way Y/N had started noticing Karina in ways she wasn’t supposed to.

And that? That was dangerous.

The university library was nearly empty at this hour, save for a few overworked students huddled in the corners. Y/N sat at a table in the back, her laptop open but untouched, her fingers absentmindedly tapping against the wood. She was supposed to be working on an assignment, but focus was a lost cause tonight.

A chair scraped against the floor, and Y/N didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

“You know,” Karina said, setting her bag down, “for someone who claims to hate studying, you spend an awful lot of time here.”

Y/N glanced at her, unimpressed. “What are you doing here?”

Karina smirked. “Maybe I missed you.”

Y/N snorted. “Right.”

Karina leaned in, her voice dropping slightly. “Maybe I did.”

Y/N stilled, fingers curling into her hoodie sleeves. It was so easy for Karina to say things like that—to flirt like it was second nature. But sometimes, when no one else was around, Y/N caught glimpses of something different.

Like now.

She looked at Karina, really looked at her, and for once, Karina didn’t look away.

Y/N exhaled, turning her attention back to her laptop. “You’re distracting.”

“I know,” Karina said easily, resting her chin on her hand.

Y/N fought the smile threatening to form. “Not a compliment.”

Karina grinned. “I’ll take it anyway.”

And just like that, the moment passed. But Y/N felt it—something shifting, something lingering.

And she didn’t know if she wanted to stop it.

It had started as a casual hangout, nothing more.

Minjeong had suggested a movie night at her dorm, and somehow, Y/N found herself squished onto a couch between Karina and an armrest, the warmth of Karina’s body too close, too present.

“You’re hogging all the space,” Y/N muttered, shifting slightly.

Karina smirked, not moving an inch. “I’m comfortable.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn’t push her away.

The movie played on, but Y/N wasn’t really watching. Not when Karina’s thigh was pressed against hers, not when Karina shifted slightly and their shoulders brushed, not when Y/N became hyperaware of the way Karina’s fingers were tapping lightly against her own knee—a barely-there touch, like a question waiting to be answered.

Y/N didn’t move.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to.

Halfway through the movie, Karina leaned in, her voice soft against Y/N’s ear.

“You okay?”

Y/N turned to look at her, and suddenly, Karina was close. Too close. Close enough that Y/N could see the way her lips parted slightly, the way her breath hitched when Y/N didn’t immediately pull away.

Y/N swallowed. “Yeah.”

Karina didn’t move back. If anything, she seemed to be waiting—for what, Y/N wasn’t sure.

And then, just as quickly as it had happened, Karina pulled away, her usual smirk sliding back into place like a shield.

“Good,” she murmured, eyes flickering back to the screen.

But Y/N knew.

Karina had almost kissed her.

And Y/N had almost let her.

Y/N didn’t bring it up, and neither did Karina.

But things weren’t the same after that night.

Karina was still Karina—still smug, still teasing, still showing up unannounced like she belonged wherever Y/N was. But the space between them felt charged now, like they were both aware of something neither of them wanted to name.

Y/N caught Karina looking at her more often, caught herself doing the same. Their touches lingered, their words carried weight, and yet… neither of them said anything.

And maybe that was the problem.

Maybe Y/N was waiting.

Waiting for Karina to stop hiding behind her smirks and half-truths.

Waiting for herself to stop pretending she wasn’t already in too deep.

Or maybe—just maybe—Karina was waiting, too.

The thing about pretending for too long is that eventually, the lines between what’s real and what’s not start to blur.

For weeks, Y/N had told herself that this was all a game. A strategic move. A PR stunt meant to keep Karina’s reputation polished and Y/N’s own image from spiraling any further.

And yet—

It didn’t feel like a game anymore.

Not when Karina looked at her like that. Not when her fingers brushed against Y/N’s wrist a second too long. Not when Y/N found herself waiting for her messages, for her presence, for something she shouldn’t be waiting for.

And especially not when Karina started looking at her like she was waiting for something too.

But Y/N didn’t push.

Because pushing meant acknowledging, and acknowledging meant risking everything.

And she wasn’t sure she was ready for that.

It had been Minjeong’s idea.

“A small get-together,” she had said. “Nothing crazy.”

Which, of course, was a lie.

By the time Y/N arrived at the off-campus house, the place was packed, music thrumming against the walls, and people were already too deep into their drinks to care about much else.

Y/N wasn’t even sure why she had come. Maybe to clear her head. Maybe because Karina had been acting weird the past few days—texting less, lingering more, her teasing still there but with an edge that felt too sharp.

Or maybe, Y/N realized with a sinking feeling, she had come because she wanted to see her.

She found Karina easily.

She always did.

Across the room, Karina stood surrounded by people, her usual effortless charm on full display. She was laughing at something someone had said, but her eyes—her eyes flickered toward Y/N the moment she stepped in.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Karina excused herself and walked straight toward her.

Y/N’s heart stuttered.

“What are you doing here?” Karina asked, stopping just close enough that their shoes nearly touched.

Y/N shrugged, trying to act casual. “Minjeong invited me.”

Karina’s lips quirked, but there was something in her expression—something unreadable.

“You don’t like parties.”

“I never said that.”

Karina tilted her head. “You don’t like most people.”

“That’s fair.”

A beat of silence.

Then Karina’s gaze flickered over Y/N’s face, her voice softer now. “Then why did you come?”

Y/N swallowed. She wasn’t sure she had an answer that wouldn’t ruin everything.

So instead, she deflected. “Why are you acting weird?”

Karina’s smirk faltered, just for a second. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

Karina’s eyes searched hers, something unspoken hanging between them. “And if I was?”

Y/N hesitated.

Then—

“Karina!”

The moment shattered as someone grabbed Karina’s wrist, pulling her away.

And just like that, the distance was back.

Y/N watched as Karina was dragged into another conversation, another crowd, another moment where she was untouchable

And for the first time, Y/N hated it.

Because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could pretend that this was just a game.

And she wasn’t sure how much longer she could pretend she wasn’t already losing.

Y/N left early. She hadn’t meant to, but something about watching Karina slip so easily into the world she belonged to—a world Y/N wasn’t sure she’d ever fit into—made her stomach twist.

The cool night air was a relief as she walked back to campus, her hands stuffed in her hoodie pockets, her mind racing.

She was halfway back when she heard footsteps behind her.

“Running away?”

Y/N didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

She sighed. “What are you doing?”

Karina fell into step beside her. “Walking you home.”

Y/N glanced at her. “You didn’t have to.”

Karina shrugged. “I wanted to.”

Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… charged. Heavy.

After a moment, Karina spoke, her voice quieter than before. “Did I do something?”

Y/N frowned. “What?”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Y/N exhaled, looking ahead. “I haven’t.”

“You have.”

Y/N didn’t respond.

Karina stopped walking, and when Y/N realized, she turned back, only to see Karina watching her with an expression that was dangerously close to vulnerable.

“Y/N.”

Y/N clenched her jaw. “What do you want me to say?”

Karina’s eyes flickered, something unreadable in them. “The truth.”

Y/N hesitated.

And for a split second, she thought—maybe, just maybe—she could give it to her.

But then Karina stepped closer, and Y/N’s breath hitched, and the world felt too small, and suddenly, it was too much.

So she did what she always did.

She deflected.

“You’re annoying.”

Karina blinked. Then, unexpectedly, she laughed.

It wasn’t her usual, practiced laugh. It was real. Soft.

Y/N hated how much she liked it.

“Come on,” Karina said, nudging her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

And as they walked side by side through the quiet streets, Y/N knew.

She was already in too deep.

And there was no getting out now.

Mornings were supposed to be Y/N’s time to herself. The crisp air, the rhythmic thud of a soccer ball against the grass, the steady burn in her muscles—it was the one part of the day where she didn’t have to think.

But Karina had a habit of showing up when Y/N least expected it.

Like now.

Y/N was mid-drill, her teammates spread across the field, when she spotted Karina lingering near the bleachers. Dressed in a perfectly coordinated outfit, steaming coffee in hand, she was clearly not here for the sport.

“Dude, your girlfriend’s here again,” her teammate, Jisoo, teased, nudging her as they jogged across the field.

“She’s not my—” Y/N cut herself off.

Because at this point, what was the point?

Jisoo just laughed. “Sure, whatever you say.”

Y/N shook her head, refocusing on the drill. But every time she glanced up, Karina was still there, watching, waiting.

And maybe—just maybe—Y/N started playing a little harder because of it.

By the time practice ended, sweat clung to Y/N’s skin, her breaths steady but heavy. She grabbed her water bottle and made her way toward the bleachers, knowing there was no avoiding Karina now.

“You’re making a habit of this,” Y/N said, wiping her face with a towel.

Karina smirked. “Of what?”

“Showing up. Watching me.”

Karina shrugged, unfazed. “Maybe I just like the view.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the warmth creeping up her neck. “You should get a hobby.”

Karina leaned in just slightly, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Maybe you are my hobby.”

Y/N huffed, taking a long sip from her water bottle before turning toward the locker room. “You need better taste in hobbies.”

But even as she walked away, she could feel Karina’s gaze following her.

And Y/N hated the way it made her heart race.

Later that evening, Y/N found herself in the library, trying—and failing—to focus.

Her econ textbook blurred in front of her, words merging together in a way that made her want to slam her head against the desk.

She sighed, rubbing her temples. Maybe she needed a break.

And just as she thought that, a familiar voice broke through the quiet.

“Are you always this studious, or are you just pretending?”

Y/N looked up, unsurprised to find Karina sliding into the seat across from her, looking as effortlessly put together as ever.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Y/N muttered, flipping a page.

Karina smirked. “I prefer to study people rather than books.”

Y/N snorted. “Sounds like a terrible academic strategy.”

Karina rested her chin on her hand, watching her with a level of attention that made Y/N squirm. “Maybe, but it’s working just fine for me.”

Y/N shook her head, trying—failing—to ignore the way Karina’s gaze made her feel. “Do you ever stop flirting?”

Karina tilted her head, her expression shifting just slightly. “Do you want me to?”

And that—well, that threw Y/N off more than she’d like to admit.

Because she should say yes. She should tell Karina to stop playing this game.

But the truth sat heavy on her tongue, unspoken.

Karina took her silence as an answer, a knowing look flashing in her eyes before she leaned back, stretching. “Relax, Y/N. I’m just keeping things interesting.”

Y/N exhaled, shaking her head. “You exhaust me.”

Karina smirked. “And yet, you still put up with me.”

And that—well, that was the problem, wasn’t it?

It was late by the time they left the library, the campus quiet, the air cool against Y/N’s skin.

They walked side by side, Karina’s presence strangely comfortable despite everything.

Then, without thinking, Y/N reached up, adjusting the strap of Karina’s bag where it had slipped off her shoulder.

It was instinct. A small, thoughtless gesture.

But the moment her fingers brushed against Karina’s shoulder, Karina stilled.

Y/N froze too, suddenly hyper-aware of how close they were, of the way Karina’s breath hitched just slightly.

It was nothing. It was barely a touch.

But it felt like something.

Karina’s eyes flickered to hers, something unreadable behind them.

Y/N should step back. She should make a joke, break the moment, do anything but stand there like an idiot.

But she didn’t.

And neither did Karina.

For the first time, the game didn’t feel like a game.

For the first time, Y/N felt like she was standing at the edge of something dangerous.

And the worst part?

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to step back.

Y/n spent the next few days doing the one thing she was good at—running.

Not just on the soccer field, but from Karina. From the way her presence lingered in Y/N’s mind long after they’d parted ways, from the way her touch—brief, fleeting—still burned against her skin.

So Y/N kept herself busy.

She threw herself into practice, pushed harder in drills, spent extra hours at the gym until her legs ached and her mind was too exhausted to wander. It was easier this way. Easier than acknowledging the shift in the air between her and Karina.

But avoidance only worked for so long.

Because Karina wasn’t the kind of person you could ignore.

She made sure of that.

Y/N barely had a moment to breathe between classes before Karina found her again, sliding into the seat next to her in the lecture hall like she belonged there.

“You’re avoiding me,” Karina said casually, setting down her coffee.

Y/N didn’t even glance at her. “I’m busy.”

Karina hummed, unconvinced. “Busy pretending I don’t exist?”

Y/N exhaled through her nose, gripping her pen a little tighter. “Busy focusing on things that actually matter.”

At that, Karina let out a soft chuckle, amused rather than offended. “Ouch. And here I thought I mattered to you.”

Y/N turned her head sharply, meeting Karina’s gaze. She was smirking—of course she was—but there was something else lurking beneath it. Something almost… expectant.

Y/N swallowed. “You don’t.”

The words came out too fast, too forced.

And Karina? She caught it immediately.

Her smirk widened, but her eyes softened, like she saw right through Y/N’s pathetic attempt at indifference.

“Okay,” Karina murmured, tilting her head slightly. “If you say so.”

And just like that, she turned her attention back to the professor, acting as if they hadn’t just played a dangerous game of push and pull in the span of thirty seconds.

Y/N stared at her, jaw clenched, stomach twisting.

Because Karina knew.

She knew that Y/N was lying.

And she was just waiting for her to admit it.

It wasn’t Y/N’s idea to go out that night.

Minjeong had all but dragged her to the frat house, insisting she needed to “relax and act like a normal college student for once.”

So Y/N went. And if she was being honest, she needed the distraction.

The music was loud, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and cheap cologne. Y/N stuck to the kitchen, nursing a beer, nodding along to conversations she wasn’t really listening to.

And then—of course—Karina walked in.

Y/N felt her before she saw her.

Felt the way the energy in the room shifted, the way heads turned as Karina Yu made her entrance like she owned the place. She wore something sleek, something effortlessly put together, like she hadn’t even tried and still managed to be the most captivating person in the room.

And the worst part? She wasn’t alone.

Some guy—tall, objectively attractive—was trailing behind her, laughing at something she said. Karina turned her head, smiling at him, and something bitter curled in Y/N’s chest.

She hated it.

She hated that she cared.

“Dude,” Minjeong nudged her, leaning against the counter. “You’re staring.”

Y/N snapped out of it, clearing her throat. “I’m not.”

Minjeong raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, okay.”

But Y/N wasn’t staring.

At least, not anymore.

Because Karina had noticed her.

Even through the sea of people, even with that guy still talking in her ear, Karina’s gaze locked onto Y/N’s like a magnet.

And then, like she was making a point, Karina leaned in closer to him, her fingers grazing his arm as she laughed at something he said.

Y/N took a sip of her drink, forcing herself to look away.

This wasn’t her problem. Karina could do whatever she wanted.

But then, before she could stop herself, she was moving.

She weaved through the crowd, past drunken conversations and sweaty bodies, until she reached Karina.

“Can I talk to you?” Y/N said, voice steady, betraying nothing.

Karina blinked, looking up at her with the faintest trace of surprise—just for a second—before recovering.

She turned to the guy. “Give me a sec.”

The guy looked between them, then gave a slow nod, stepping away.

Karina turned back to Y/N, arms crossing. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Y/N clenched her jaw. “Can we not do this?”

Karina tilted her head. “Do what?”

Y/N exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “The whole ‘let’s see who can push who further’ game.”

Karina was quiet for a beat. Then, she stepped closer—too close.

Y/N could smell her perfume, the faint trace of whatever drink she’d been nursing.

“You don’t like it?” Karina murmured, voice lower now.

Y/N held her ground. “No.”

Karina studied her, gaze flickering between Y/N’s eyes, searching for something.

And then, to Y/N’s surprise, Karina sighed.

“Fine,” Karina said, stepping back, tension shifting just slightly. “No more games.”

Y/N didn’t believe her. “Just like that?”

Karina gave her a small, unreadable smile. “Just like that.”

And then, before Y/N could say anything else, Karina walked away.

Y/N stood there, fists clenched at her sides, heart pounding in her ears.

Because somehow, that felt worse.

Somehow, Y/N realized, she didn’t want Karina to stop playing.

And that scared her more than anything.

Y/N told herself that after the party, things would go back to normal.

She could shake this off—shake Karina off—and everything would settle.

But the problem with telling yourself something over and over again is that, eventually, you start realizing it’s a lie.

Karina was everywhere.

Not in the obvious ways—she wasn’t texting Y/N, wasn’t suddenly showing up at her dorm unannounced like she used to. If anything, Karina had pulled back.

And that was the problem.

Because now Y/N was the one noticing her.

Noticing the way Karina still sat near her in class, but never directly next to her. Noticing how their eyes would meet across the cafeteria, but Karina would always be the first to look away. Noticing how, during passing periods, Karina’s shoulder would nearly brush against Y/N’s before she’d shift slightly at the last second, putting just enough space between them.

And for some reason, it was driving Y/N insane.

It was like Karina had figured out exactly how to get under her skin—by giving her the distance Y/N had pretended to want.

And now, Y/N hated it.

Soccer was supposed to be Y/N’s escape.

The one place where things made sense, where the only thing that mattered was the ball at her feet and the goal ahead.

But even that had started to feel different.

Practice was tense. Not because of the drills or the upcoming matches, but because Minjeong—who always seemed to have a sixth sense for Y/N’s moods—had noticed something was off.

“You’re playing like someone who has unresolved feelings,” Minjeong remarked after practice, tossing Y/N a water bottle.

Y/N scowled. “I’m playing like someone who wants to win.”

Minjeong smirked. “Right. And totally not like someone who’s mad that Karina Yu is suddenly treating her like a stranger.”

Y/N nearly choked on her water. “I—what?”

Minjeong crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Come on, dude. You think I haven’t noticed?”

Y/N opened her mouth, then closed it. Because what was she supposed to say? That she was fine? That Karina’s distance wasn’t bothering her?

Because that would be another lie.

And Minjeong would see right through it.

Instead, Y/N just sighed, dragging a hand down her face. “It’s complicated.”

Minjeong hummed. “Complicated because you like her?”

Y/N stiffened. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Minjeong clapped a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, far too amused. “Just saying, if you wanna keep lying to yourself, that’s cool. But maybe stop pretending you don’t care when it’s obvious you do.”

Y/N groaned. “You’re the worst.”

Minjeong grinned. “I know.”

But as she walked off, leaving Y/N alone on the field, the words stuck.

Because maybe Minjeong wasn’t wrong.

Maybe Y/N had been lying to herself this whole time.

Y/N hadn’t planned to run into Karina that night.

She’d gone to the library late, hoping to cram in some studying before crashing. The campus was quiet at this hour, only a few students lingering in the study rooms, the distant hum of conversation filling the space.

She was halfway through highlighting a passage when she sensed someone sit across from her.

She didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

Her hands tightened around her pen. “Didn’t think you studied this late.”

Karina’s voice was smooth, a little too casual. “Didn’t think you cared.”

Y/N exhaled, finally looking up.

Karina looked… calm. Not smirking, not teasing—just studying Y/N with that unreadable expression she’d perfected.

It was infuriating.

“Is this some new strategy?” Y/N muttered. “Ignoring me until I crack?”

Karina tilted her head slightly. “I wasn’t ignoring you.”

Y/N scoffed. “Oh, really? Because last week, you wouldn’t leave me alone, and now I barely exist to you.”

Karina was quiet for a second.

Then, in a softer voice, she said, “You told me you didn’t want to play the game anymore.”

Y/N faltered.

Because… hadn’t she?

Hadn’t she told Karina she was done with whatever this back-and-forth was?

And yet, here she was.

Karina leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table. “I gave you space, Y/N. You just didn’t like it as much as you thought you would.”

Y/N clenched her jaw. “That’s not—”

But she stopped herself.

Because Karina was right.

Y/N swallowed hard, fingers tightening around her pen. “I just…” She exhaled slowly. “I don’t know what this is.”

Karina’s gaze softened just slightly. “Neither do I.”

That admission caught Y/N off guard.

Because Karina always acted like she had the upper hand, always seemed so sure of herself. But now, in this quiet corner of the library, she wasn’t playing games.

She was just being honest.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Karina let out a small breath, tapping her fingers against the table. “You wanna get out of here?”

Y/N frowned. “Where?”

Karina shrugged. “Anywhere that’s not this library.”

Y/N hesitated.

She shouldn’t say yes.

But against all logic, she found herself nodding.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “Okay.”

And as Karina stood, waiting for her, Y/N realized that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t run from this.

From Karina.

Because Karina was the one thing Y/N couldn’t escape.

And maybe, deep down, she didn’t want to.

Y/N wasn’t sure why she agreed to leave the library with Karina.

Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was Minjeong’s words still bouncing around in her head. Or maybe it was the way Karina had looked at her—not with smugness, not with teasing, but with something real.

Either way, they ended up walking through campus side by side, the cool night air settling over them in silence.

For once, Karina didn’t try to fill the quiet.

She walked at Y/N’s pace, hands tucked into the pockets of her coat, gaze flickering up at the dimly lit buildings around them.

It was strange—almost unsettling—to be next to Karina without the usual push and pull.

No cameras. No spectators. Just them.

After a while, Y/N exhaled and shoved her hands into her hoodie pocket. “So, are you gonna tell me where we’re going, or is this some elaborate plan to murder me?”

Karina let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “As tempting as that is, no.” She glanced at Y/N with a small smirk. “Relax. I figured we could just walk.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You? Just walking? Without some grand scheme?”

Karina sighed dramatically. “I’m capable of normal human activities, you know.”

“Debatable.”

Karina nudged her playfully, and Y/N bit back a smile.

They ended up near the soccer field—empty at this hour, save for the faint glow of the campus lights reflecting off the damp grass.

Karina strolled toward the bleachers and sat down, gesturing for Y/N to join her.

Y/N hesitated but eventually sat beside her, the cool metal of the bleachers pressing against her legs.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke.

It wasn’t uncomfortable, though.

If anything, it was… easy.

Which was dangerous.

Because Y/N knew Karina thrived in chaos, in the tension of their usual banter, in the thrill of whatever game they’d been playing since the beginning.

But tonight, there was none of that.

And Y/N didn’t know what to do with it.

Karina exhaled, tilting her head back to look at the stars. “You know,” she murmured, “I don’t think I ever really stop moving.”

Y/N glanced at her. “What do you mean?”

Karina’s lips curved, but it wasn’t her usual smirk. “I mean, I’m always doing something. Going somewhere. Talking to someone. It’s… exhausting, sometimes.”

Y/N frowned. She’d never heard Karina admit anything like that before.

“I guess I just don’t like slowing down,” Karina continued, voice quieter now. “Because when I do, I start thinking too much.”

Y/N shifted slightly, studying her.

There was something vulnerable in the way Karina was speaking.

Like she wasn’t just saying things to be heard.

Like she actually wanted Y/N to understand.

“You ever feel like that?” Karina asked, turning to her.

Y/N hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”

She didn’t elaborate, but Karina didn’t push.

Instead, Karina let out a soft chuckle. “Look at us. Having an actual conversation.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Miracle of the century.”

Karina smirked, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Y/N wanted to ask more. She wanted to press, to understand this side of Karina she was just now seeing.

But she didn’t.

Because if she asked, that meant acknowledging that she cared.

And Y/N wasn’t sure she was ready for that.

They sat in silence for a while longer, the night air cool but not unpleasant.

At some point, Y/N stretched her legs out, her knee barely brushing against Karina’s.

She expected Karina to pull away—to put that usual distance between them.

But she didn’t.

She stayed still.

The warmth of her presence was almost unnerving.

Y/N’s fingers curled into the fabric of her hoodie, suddenly feeling too aware of how close they were.

Karina must have noticed.

Because when she spoke again, her voice was quieter.

“You know…” Karina exhaled, tilting her head slightly toward Y/N. “I didn’t expect you to matter this much.”

Y/N’s breath hitched.

She turned her head slowly, finding Karina already looking at her.

It wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t teasing.

It was real.

The weight of Karina’s words settled between them, heavy and unspoken.

Y/N swallowed hard. “Karina…”

Karina’s gaze flickered down—just briefly—to Y/N’s lips.

Y/N’s heart stuttered.

And for a moment—a terrifying, fleeting moment—she thought Karina might actually kiss her.

She thought she might let her.

But then Karina pulled back slightly, her expression unreadable once more.

She exhaled through her nose, as if amused at herself. “See?” she murmured. “Thinking too much.”

Y/N blinked, still caught in whatever spell had just been cast between them.

But Karina was already standing, brushing imaginary dust off her coat.

“Come on,” Karina said lightly, her usual smirk returning. “I’ll walk you back.”

Y/N hesitated before standing as well.

As they made their way back through campus, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed.

That, maybe, whatever space had been between them before… was smaller now.

Something had changed.

Y/N felt it in the way Karina looked at her—like she was expecting something.

She felt it in the way their conversations lingered just a little too long, in the way Karina found excuses to touch her—an arm brushing against hers, fingers catching her wrist, a knee bumping against her under the table.

It was in the way Karina invaded her space, in the way she seemed to think she had a right to it now.

And Y/N was letting her.

That was the problem.

Because despite all her instincts, all her warnings to herself, she wasn’t pushing Karina away anymore.

She was letting Karina pull her closer.

And she didn’t know how to stop.

It happened on a Friday night.

The soccer team had won another game, and the celebrations had spilled out onto campus, the dorms buzzing with energy. But Y/N wasn’t in the mood to party.

She had barely made it inside her dorm before Karina was there—waiting, as if she had been expecting her.

“You’re avoiding me,” Karina said, arms crossed.

Y/N sighed, dropping her bag onto the floor. “I’m not.”

Karina gave her a look. “You are.”

Y/N ran a hand through her hair. “I just needed some space.”

Karina didn’t move. “From me?”

Y/N hesitated.

Because yes. Yes, she needed space. She needed distance before she did something stupid, before she let herself believe that whatever this was—whatever Karina was doing—meant something more.

But Karina was looking at her with something raw in her expression, something that made Y/N’s resolve waver.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Y/N admitted, voice quiet.

Karina stared at her, something unreadable flashing across her face. “I don’t know either.”

Y/N swallowed. “Then what are we doing?”

Karina stepped closer, and Y/N’s heart stuttered.

“We don’t have to name it,” Karina murmured. “We just have to let it be.”

Y/N hated how much she wanted to believe her.

She hated how much she wanted to close the distance between them.

She hated how Karina made her feel—like a thread being pulled too tight, waiting to snap.

And Karina must have seen something in her eyes, because her voice softened.

“Tell me to stop,” Karina whispered.

Y/N’s breath caught.

Karina was so close now, close enough that Y/N could see the flicker of uncertainty in her usually unreadable eyes.

Close enough that Y/N could feel her warmth.

And for a second, Y/N thought she might not stop her.

For a second, she thought she might let herself fall.

But then—

A knock at the door.

They jolted apart like they had been caught doing something they shouldn’t.

Y/N turned, exhaling sharply, while Karina took a step back, hands clenched at her sides.

The moment was gone.

And Y/N wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed.

Y/N didn’t sleep that night.

She kept replaying the moment over and over, feeling the ghost of Karina’s presence beside her, the warmth she had almost leaned into.

The next morning, she expected Karina to pretend like nothing had happened.

That was how Karina worked, after all.

She played games. She knew when to push and when to pull back.

But Karina didn’t pretend.

Instead, for the first time since their arrangement had started, she was the one avoiding Y/N.

And that was how Y/N knew—

Whatever they were doing, whatever lines they had been dancing around—

They had finally, finally started to blur.

It had been three days since the night in Y/N’s dorm. Three days of silence.

It was like a wall had gone up between them, and Y/N felt it every time she saw Karina—at practice, in the hallways, even in the cafeteria. Karina didn’t make eye contact anymore. She didn’t offer that sly smile or the playful teasing that had become so familiar.

And Y/N… she wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

At first, she thought she was relieved. She had told herself she needed space, that things had gotten too close, too fast. But as the days went on, that relief slowly turned into something else—something like… loneliness.

It was like they had been in their own world, one where the rules didn’t quite apply. And now, that world was slipping away, leaving Y/N with nothing but a dull ache.

She couldn’t quite understand it, couldn’t quite explain it.

But she missed Karina.

It was another Friday night, and Karina’s behavior had only gotten colder. Y/N couldn’t stand it. She found herself slipping into Karina’s favorite hangout spot on campus—an old, quiet study lounge where Karina had a habit of disappearing to when she wanted a break from the crowds.

The door creaked open, and there Karina was, sitting on one of the plush chairs by the window, her back to Y/N.

“Karina,” Y/N said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Karina didn’t turn around. “What are you doing here?” she asked, though the words didn’t have their usual bite.

Y/N hesitated, then stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her. “I… I needed to talk to you.”

Karina didn’t respond. She just kept staring out the window, the dim light from the streetlights casting shadows on her face.

Y/N’s heart beat faster, but she couldn’t let it go. “I don’t like this,” she blurted out, before she could stop herself.

Karina’s shoulders tensed, but she didn’t turn around. “Don’t like what?” she asked, though there was an edge to her voice now.

Y/N crossed the room, her footsteps quiet against the hardwood floor. She stopped just short of Karina’s chair. “The way you’ve been acting. The silence. The distance. It feels like I’m losing you.”

Karina finally looked at her, but her expression was unreadable. “You’ve always known how to keep me at arm’s length,” she said, her voice soft, but sharp all the same. “You’ve never let me get too close.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at the words. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t mean to what?” Karina interrupted, standing up now, her gaze intense. “You didn’t mean to push me away? Or you didn’t mean to let me in, only to turn around and close the door?”

Y/N’s breath caught. She hadn’t realized it until now, but maybe that was exactly what she had been doing. Keeping Karina at a distance, only to let her close, then push her away again.

“I’m not good at this,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Karina didn’t say anything for a long time. Then, in a quiet voice, she said, “I didn’t think you were.”

Y/N flinched at the words. They stung more than she cared to admit.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said, her voice thick with regret.

Karina’s gaze softened just a little. “I know you didn’t,” she said quietly. “But it doesn’t make it any easier, does it?”

Y/N swallowed, trying to find the right words. “I don’t know how to… how to be with you. I don’t know how to do any of this.”

Karina’s lips parted, like she was going to say something, but instead, she just let out a soft sigh. She looked away, her expression turning inward. “I’m not asking for you to have it all figured out,” she said. “I’m just asking for you to try.”

Y/N stood there, frozen. “Try?”

Karina nodded, her gaze turning back to Y/N. “Yeah. Try. Because right now, it feels like you’re just running away.”

The silence between them stretched, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… real.

Y/N’s heart ached as she stared at Karina, her words lingering in the air. She wanted to say something—something that would make it all make sense, that would bridge the gap between them. But nothing came.

Instead, she just stepped closer.

And without thinking, without a single ounce of hesitation, she reached out and touched Karina’s arm.

Karina looked at her, and for the first time in days, there was no smirk, no teasing in her eyes. Only something deeper. Something softer.

Y/N’s breath caught, her hand trembling slightly as she moved it up to Karina’s shoulder.

“I’m not running away,” Y/N said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I just don’t know what I’m doing.”

Karina didn’t say anything, but she didn’t pull away either. She just stood there, waiting.

And in that moment, everything between them felt clearer than it ever had. The tension, the uncertainty, the hesitation—it all melted away.

Y/N leaned forward, her heart hammering in her chest.

Karina didn’t move, didn’t shy away.

And then—without thinking—Y/N kissed her.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, like they were both still figuring it out. But as Karina kissed her back, the world seemed to stop.

For a brief moment, there was no confusion. No fear. No doubt. Just the two of them, finally, truly, in sync.

When they finally pulled away, both of them breathless, Karina looked at Y/N with a new intensity.

“You’re not running anymore,” Karina said, her voice low and steady.

Y/N smiled, her chest full of warmth. “I think I’m finally learning how to stay.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N realized that maybe—just maybe—this was the beginning of something real.

That week, everything between them shifted. It wasn’t an earth-shattering change, but it was enough to make Y/N feel like the ground was slightly less shaky under her feet. They spoke more, spent more time together, even if it was in small ways—Karina waiting for Y/N outside her next practice, or sitting with her at lunch, not really talking much, just existing in the same space.

There was something comforting about it.

But there was still a distance—an invisible line that neither of them had crossed. They didn’t talk about the kiss, not really. It was as though it had been a fleeting moment in time, one that neither of them had fully processed yet. But there was an unspoken understanding between them. They were both scared of what this might become. Neither of them had the answers.

And then, one Thursday afternoon, everything changed.

Y/N had just finished up her last class of the day, exhausted from the week’s grueling practices, when she received a message from Karina.

Karina: Meet me at the bench by the field? I want to talk.

Y/N hesitated, feeling that familiar flutter in her chest. She texted back quickly.

Y/N: Sure. Be there in 10.

The bench by the field was their unofficial meeting spot. It had become a place where, no matter how chaotic their days were, they could sit and talk without interruption. Y/N walked toward it, her sneakers scuffing against the pavement, heart pounding a little faster with every step.

When she arrived, Karina was already there, sitting with her legs crossed, looking at her phone. She looked up when Y/N approached, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

“Hey,” Karina said, voice casual, but there was a nervousness underneath, something Y/N hadn’t expected.

“Hey,” Y/N replied, her throat suddenly dry. “What’s up?”

Karina took a deep breath, setting her phone down on the bench next to her. “I’ve been thinking a lot, actually,” she began, her eyes meeting Y/N’s with surprising seriousness. “About… everything. About us. And what happens next.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”

Karina hesitated before speaking, the words coming slowly. “I’m not good at this,” she admitted. “I’ve spent so much of my life pretending, controlling everything around me, and now… I don’t know what to do with this. With you.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at her honesty. She could see the vulnerability in Karina’s eyes, the same vulnerability she had always kept hidden beneath layers of confidence and charm. It made her want to reach out, to reassure her.

“Karina, I don’t know what to do either,” Y/N said quietly, her voice steady. “I’m just trying to figure it out, too.”

Karina looked down, biting her lip. When she looked back up, there was something different in her gaze—something softer, but more determined. “I don’t want to keep pretending. I don’t want us to be some weird, complicated… whatever this is. I want to figure it out. I want to take it slow, but I want to be real with you.”

Y/N felt her heart skip in her chest, her breath catching in her throat. This was it—the moment they had both been avoiding.

“I want that, too,” Y/N said, the words coming easily. “I don’t want to keep pretending either.”

For a long moment, they just sat there, the space between them feeling different. It wasn’t heavy anymore, just… open. Like they were both standing on the edge of something, unsure but ready.

And in that moment, Y/N realized that, no matter how slow they took it, no matter how many walls they had to break down, she wanted to be there. With Karina. She was finally ready to figure it out.

Together.

[tornadoxp]

Look Outside Curse Swap AU: AKA how I lost my god damn mind and didn't sleep for 24+ hours

Brace Yourselves

okay so a few days ago I had this idea were Sam after the Flawed Ritual Ending gained the ability to "condense" himself into a human form like Leigh.

I thought this was just going to be a cute idea that I may or may not post or do anything with. However, as I was going to bed my brain decided to flashbang me with this the second I was one foot into LaLa land.

Suddenly a fucking chain reaction happened in my brain where I tried to wrestle with the implications of Leigh as the protagonist and Sam as a shapeshifting monster that can be recruited. Not to mention the other major characters like who can easily trade places and who should remain the same and how being cursed or not cursed changes they're character, quest or role in story or gameplay.

Ultimately, I find this au would more interesting if it's just exploring how cursed characters and non-cursed characters would change if they weren't or were. Thus, any role switching that happens would be more based on the characters fitting different niches instead of being arbitrary personality swaps.

here's what I got so far with the characters that ended up directly trading places.

Leigh the Shopkeep <--> Sam the Timid Beast

A lot of people head cannon Leigh as someone who was frustrated with her job myself included. She would probably see the 15-days as a vacation she was woefully unprepared for and needing to go out to scavenge.

The chase encounter would be significantly easier as the beast would be fighting to regain control and can be easily scared off with a single molotov.

Immediately after this Leigh rediscovers her thrill-seeking side and chases after it only to be disappointed that the monster is replaced with some weird looking guy.

She eventually recruits Sam with the hopes of toughing him up so he could give her a real fight in the future. It also helps that she has a consol considering how Sam broke his and everything in his apartment during his transformation.

I'm not really sure how Leigh would work as a player character.

Sam on the other hand as an ally would have two forms. In his human form he would have support focused abilities but due to this ungainly form would have dogshit weapon aim and crit chance. In his cursed form he would be similar to Leighs cursed form in the base game I just haven't thought of any differences.

If Sam is left behind in the apartment, he would passively recruit ally's while Leigh's away for better or for worse.

Joel the Little Slugger <--> Sophie the Tangled Child

also Clint <--> Harriet

I am not happy with this drawling of human Joel.

Anyway, Joel would randomly knock on Leigh's door saying he was separated from his family in the parking garage after they tried to leave for a game before they knew what was happening. This also means that Clint would also be a door encounter asking if Leigh has seen his son.

However, Clint can also become cursed like Harriet in the original game and lure Joel out. Leigh would have to physically stop Joel from approaching or else Clint would eat Joel alive... yeah.

as an ally Joel would be a ranged biased fighter, pitching and batting baseballs at far enemies. He can retrieve the baseballs he uses and find more but only after combat.

Joels baseball theme is based on the hat in his bedroom and literally nothing else. The only sport he mentions that I can recall is football, but I don't think an 8 year old is going to be doing much ramming into a giant creature. It would be really funny if he still bites people, probably in a character interaction.

Sophie on the other hand is not going to have a good time.

a few days in Sophies and Harriet apartment would be broken open revealing that the interior is tangled with hair. Any furniture that is still visible is crushed beneath the tight wraps. You could find Sophie in her room hiding. What happened was Harriet accidently looked outside and became cursed. While struggling to maintain her sanity she ended up attacking Sophie and infecting her with the curse.

You could fight Harriet in the master bedroom which would be a tough fight because of her ability to constrict. Or you could bring Sophie with you and upon seeing her Harriet would briefly be brought to her senses and sorrowful for what she did lean down so she could be put down. If refused she would push everyone out of the apartment and seal the entrance.

As an ally Sophie would still be focused on applying debuffs on enemy's this time though she doesn't need to hide and has a skill that can apply constrict.

Sophies personality would differ greatly. She would still pull pranks on other characters like tying doors shut and placing tripwires to knock over things when people pass. But she would be significantly more withdrawn with most of her interactions being completely silent. Unlike Joel she doesn't use denial to cope so she is completely aware of the fact that she would probably never see her mother again.

Jesus I have been yapping for a while, so I'll just briefly go over the direct role swaps I'll probably talk about later.

Hellen the Gardener <--> Papaineu the Giant

Nestor <--> Rafta

Jasper <--> Sybil, this one is going to be painful

Astronomers <--> Artists

[pali-and-proud]

My finals ended yesterday and I ended up sleeping for 11 hours. I can think again.

I want to take a moment to just talk about perspectives. How Buddy percieves Chase, how Chase percieves Buddy, and how Deacon percieves both.

Buddy's POV of Chase is so beautiful to me because Chase is just such an enigma to him. He's so quick to bicker and insult, and he routinely says the most ridiculous and outlandish things that Buddy can't even respond to, and then he turns around and is so selflessly caring and kind and considerate that it nearly always takes Buddy off-guard. Buddy knows the more about Chase than vice versa, and yet Buddy never seems able to expect what Chase is going to do.

I could be wrong, actually, but I think almost all of their conversations end with or include Buddy being confused by something Chase said, or something Chase did. And Chase is doing it all with a shirt, guys.

Chase's POV of Buddy is nearly the exact opposite. Chase knows NOTHING about Buddy, outside of phobias and fashionware, and Deacon's the one who has to remind him about that. Chase is good at reading people; we already knew that. Chase is GREAT at reading Buddy.

He's aware of Buddy's need for attention. He's aware of Buddy's barbs--knows when Buddy's being mean, and when Buddy's trying to be nice. He's aware that Buddy's situation is concerning enough to warrant outside help, and that Buddy won't ask for it. Buddy isn't really a mystery to him--the only real question is how to get Buddy to trust him. Which is insane, really, since we've seen in the current arc (vampire) that Buddy did genuinely trust Chase.

(I could go so far as to say the only part of Buddy that Chase doesn't easily/accurately understand is how CHASE fits into Buddy's life, but I will digress)

Deacon, though? Ohhhh, Deacon. Deacon's role is SO much more important than I think people give it credit for. Deacon is the only way we get a true outsider's glimpse into Chase (he tells us about Chase's money problems, he explains why Chase loves new stuff, he reminds us that Chase's dream to be a singer/dancer/idol isn't realistic and that Chase logically knows that, and he breaks down some of Chase's quirks.)

Deacon is also, uh, how we see Buddy respond to someone he doesn't have an embarrassingly obvious crush on. It's so easy to forget that Buddy is actively trying to treat Chase better until you see Buddy interact with Deacon for two seconds, in which Buddy's managed to be both smug and/or jealous. Yes I haven't forgotten that Buddy is jealous of Chase's cousin. Yes I do think thats the funniest reoccuring joke.

So Deacon having a really good view of both characters--where he can trust Chase's judgement while also being the logic that Chase sometimes forgoes AND can be cautious of Buddy due to past actions while also understanding that Buddy is more complicated than initial assumptions--it's important because it helps ground the characters.

And in direct contrast: Buddy's dislike of Deacon is completely rooted in his terrible understanding of Deacon's role to Chase. Buddy's first conversation with Deacon is him telling Deacon he should stop doing the stories because he's in over his head, despite Deacon having prepared more than Chase ever did. Buddy continues to yell and berate Deacon for his choice in book, despite Deacon actively choosing books he/Chase would enjoy, which is what you (according to Buddy, at least, and my inferences) should ideally do.

Chase's POV of Deacon is a bit more convoluted, and this post is already pretty long; I don't know if anyone's actually reading all this. He's just such a younger cousin; he doesn't idolize Deacon, but he does expect Deacon to have the answers. They're such older/younger brother coded. From the beginning, Chase has wanted to hang out with Deacon. It's almost tragic, honestly, that Deacon has such a high opinion of Chase that he never really shares, while Chase shows his high opinion of Deacon so often that a completely separate person was able to get jealous.

I took my psych final yesterday. Surely this is what my professors would want me to use my knowledge on.

[dceasesd]

why juni ba’s the boy wonder has my favorite jason characterization of any contemporary comic run: a needlessly in-depth analysis (pt.3)

go check out part 1 and part 2 if you'd like! this is a long one, sorry guys.

if you haven't already i'd recommend you check out pt. 1 & pt. 2 (linked above), but if you haven't checked them out i've been going over some of the main things people have been criticizing ba's characterization for: 1. the typical boiling down of jason's character to "the angry one" 2. his lack of strategy going into the fight with the demon is out-of-character 3. the neighbor's kid interaction

alright, so this last point is purely based off of one page of the entire comic: the one where the child of one of jason's neighbors is dragged inside his home when his mother see's jason coming.

first off, i love this page. it might be my favorite page in the entire issue. everything about it is great. just thought i needed to say that.

anyway, there's some people who are seeing this page and reading it as "jason protects kids! that's one of his big things! why are they scared of him?"

here's the thing, though: the kid isn't scared of jason, the mom is. the kid is literally playing dress up as the red hood-- he's not scared of jason, if anything he's trying to replicate him. little kids dress up as their heroes all the time; why is this kid any different? it doesn't really make sense for the kid to dress up of something he's scared of (not everyone is as weird bruce wayne), especially a real person that could be a real threat rather than a concept. i doubt you see many kids in gotham dressing up as the joker or something, because that's just asking for trouble.

the dress-up honestly seems like a ploy for attention to me. the kid clearly knows that red hood lives in his building (which is honestly so funny. take off the mask jason you're giving you're position away (actually this is a really good instance for analysis but i'm determined to not go on a tangent)). if the kid knows red hood lives in his building, what better way to get his attention that dressing up as him and playing pretend? if the kid was scared of him, he wouldn't want to draw that sort of attention to himself. if he had a sort of hero-worshippy thing going on like i suspect, then he would want to get jason's attention. to sum it up,

it's the mom who pulls him away when jason nears, because she either a) perceives him as a threat, b) doesn't want her kid to try and replicate him even more, or, the most likely option, both! the kid isn't scared of him, but the mother believes they should be.

once again, we come back to the whole perception vs. reality theme i talked about in part one! we've come full circle, everyone!

when looking at the neighborhood's perspective of the red hood, ba gives us a few contradictory examples. there's the kid and the mother, obviously, but there's also a slew of other citizens who interact with him at the beginning of the issue, both in fear and camaraderie.

the unhoused man and the people outside of his building clearly have a familiarity and are comfortable with him, while the shopkeeper is terrified and literally has a banned poster on his wall featuring jason (i am so curious what he did to deserve that, if he even did anything at all). from this, it appears that jason's reputation teeters between fearful and familiar-- a sentiment that also colors jason's relationship with his family.

furthermore, this concept underscores just how lonely jason is-- one of the only good relationships he had in his current life was his fucking landlord, for gods sake, and he's dead.

i think it's important to note that jason doesn't respond to the friendly greetings from the men-- he could attempt to build camaraderie, the roots are there, but he chooses not to. he could work to try and show the mother that her son is safe with him, but he chooses not to. why? jason is obviously lonely (as ba states in the panel below) and he caves pretty easily when damian asks him for help (both of them are so desperate for human interaction its tragic). so why does he distant himself from the community?

obviously it is in part due to the vigilante lifestyle, but it is also jason's perception of himself and how he believes others perceive him, especially in regards to his family (ba is literally hitting readers in the head with that theme baseball bat).

he doesn't see that the kid with the mask looks up to him, all he sees is the mother pulling him away. he sees the banned poster in the store. and, as ba narrates, "he was sure he'd been forgotten about" by his family. utrh is jason's twisted way of attempting to reach out and connect with bruce, and obviously that doesn't work-- so he chooses loneliness over rejection.

like in part one, though, damian refutes this idea by describing bruce's perspective, showing how what jason believes differs from actuality. bruce hasn't forgotten about him and doesn't hate him, as he suspected, but instead harbors guilt over the situation and desires to make it better, which jason must come to understand to be able to open the locked door and begin to move past his trauma.

so, that's what the little kid in the red hood outfit looks like to me. i actually have a lot more i'd like to say about the boy wonder, especially in regards to the whole "door to my past life" thing and what ba does with lighting and blocking in his artwork, so i may do a little post on that as well! i was gonna try and shove it into this one, but i've run out of room! i hope you guys liked my analysis, if you'd like to chat about the boy wonder or any other comics, my dms, asks, and reblogs are happily open! thanks for reading! :)) <3

pt. 1 / pt. 2

[veal-exe]

Good faith heads up bud!

Saying/typing the name of that spirit (the w word) is extremely bad practice/manners. It calls the thing straight to you, and those who read it. This creature -spirit is also part of a closed practice for north american natives (not sure just how widespread). This is especially true for folks living in the mountains and old growth forests (really anywhere close to where Old Spirits still reside)

Feel free to use things like "tulpa", or "the winter hunger" though !

I’m going to say this once, and you’re going to listen, because I am not your goddamn spiritual diversity hire, I am from the actual tribe. I am the so-called “North American Native (TM)” you are attempting to white-knight for, and it is laughable that you think you’re in any position to tell me what parts of my own culture I’m allowed to speak aloud.

I grew up partially on a reservation. I have family there. I was raised among people who live these stories. Not read them on Reddit. Not watched them in some shitty horror movie. Not studied them like butterflies pinned to a board. Lived them. And here you are, pulling this half-baked, spiritually colonized nonsense like you’re doing me a fucking favor by telling me not to say “Wendigo.”

Wendigo. There. I said it again. Loudly. Clearly. With full understanding of the name’s weight and meaning. And if that makes you clutch your little bundle of poached sage and scream into your Discord server, maybe just maybe you should take a step back and ask yourself why the hell you think you’re more qualified to speak for my culture than someone who is literally from it.

This whole “it’s bad manners to say it” thing? It’s not traditional. It’s not sacred. It’s not protective. It’s a bastardized superstition passed around by white and non-Native people who’ve taken bits and pieces of closed practices and Frankenstein’d them into something that feels spooky and important, but is not ours. That’s not how we treat stories. That’s not how we treat our dead. That’s not how we treat our gods, spirits, or monsters. That’s how you treat them like fragile little curses in jars you’re too scared to look at.

You’ve taken a real cultural being, tied deeply to starvation, betrayal, trauma, the collapse of kinship under colonial violence, and turned it into Beetlejuice with antlers ooOOOooo don't say it's naaaAAAaaameee. And now you want to pretend you're protecting us from it? You want to "warn" me?

Do you know how fucking arrogant that is?

You are warning a Native person not to speak their own stories out loud because it makes you uncomfortable. You are telling someone who lives this culture that they need to use euphemisms. As if the problem with how MY myths are mistreated is that people say the name too directly and not, oh I don’t know, that non-Native people like you have decided you’re the keepers of it.

Let me explain something to you: the actual danger isn’t saying the name. It’s the erasure. It’s the constant silencing. It’s the fetishization. It’s the spiritual cosplayers like you who are so desperate to feel close to something ancient and powerful that you drape yourself in pieces of our stories like a cheap Halloween costume and then have the gall to scold us when we speak.

What you are doing is not reverent. It is not protective. It is not in good faith. It’s paternalistic, performative bullshit, and I am tired of it. I am tired of white people and non-Native people and people with native great grandparents they never knew who have never stepped foot in their nations treating Native culture like a haunted forest they get to gatekeep, while we, the actual people, are left outside, being told how to interact with our own spirits by people who learned everything they know from Tumblr threads and "NativeLore420" YouTube videos.

You want to talk bad manners? Bad manners is correcting a Native person on their own terminology.

Bad manners is assuming we are so fragile and backwards that the mere utterance of a syllable will doom us all.

Bad manners is inserting yourself into spiritual spaces you have no right to and then turning around and tone-policing the people who do.

And I know you’ll say, “I was just trying to help!” But no, you weren’t. You were trying to be seen as more respectful than the Native person actually speaking. You were trying to look like a protector of culture without ever actually having to live it, carry it, or be harmed by the ways it’s been twisted and lost.

You do not carry the fear. You do not carry the hunger. You do not carry the history. You do not carry the right.

So

sit

the

FUCK

down

and do not ever try to correct me again on what I can or cannot say about my own goddamn culture. You don’t get to decide what is sacred. You don’t get to decide what is safe. You don’t get to decide what names I say out loud.

Shut the Fuck up.

Also, 'Tulpa' IS appropriation! not only are they different, but 'Tulpa' is an appropriated term! The fucking irony!

[post-punk-revival]

“It’s obviously valid to be bugkin but you also can’t just expect people to get over it when they have a genuine fear!”

I’m afraid of dogs.

Dogs put me extremely on edge. I avoid them while outside and if one’s in a room with me I’ll try to leave or else start to panic. Especially medium-sized and larger breeds. Mere images of dogs may not give me a panic attack, I will admit that, it's not a phobia. But if you want to talk hypocrisy, if you're opening up that discussion:

Hey dog therians, dog otherhearted folks and clinical cynanthropes, what if everywhere you went, the unspoken attitude of the alterhuman community was—

Don’t post dog photos or talk about being a dog in the main alterhuman tags. Don’t talk about your shifts, your instincts, or your kind in the main tags. If you’re a CZ, don’t talk so openly about your biological reality. It’s extremely triggering for people with cynophobia. The idea of physically being or becoming a dog grosses them out to briefly think about, so try not to discuss your literal existence. If you must, at least trigger tag yourself with #tw dogs or #tw dog mention so people can stay safe by censoring things that will hurt their mental health. It’s okay if you’re dogkin but in my DNI I'm going to write something like, don’t follow me if your blog hosts too many graphic close-up images of dogs doing dog things, even if you censor them. Don’t add dog photos to open posts in the alterhuman tags, you have no idea who might be sent into a panic attack by images of yourself so you should play it safe and only put them on your own posts. And stop being so offended by people who comment on posts about pet dogs or dog facts saying they want to bleach their eyes or kill it with fire, they can’t help having a phobia.

Not great, is it? Fortunately, and I do genuinely mean that, this is a sentiment you will only see once, on this post, completely satirically. Except it’s just a real sentiment for bug therians/hearted and other invertebrate alterhumans. Of course what I said was satire. But if it pissed you off when you thought it might not be, please, contemplate on that reaction, really spend some time on it.

Also, if you're wondering what I mean by "other invertebrate alterhumans", (and I'm sorry for how heated I got when I was writing this part last night even after editing it down)

You know I’m a bug zoanthrope too, not just a bird? And see above if you're wondering why I never said shit about it, just said I was a centipede therian and even then said I was just questioning and didn't really talk much about it. Am I allowed to talk about it without tagging it #tw body horror, even though I obviously don’t fucking find my own body to be horror? Can I talk about it without tagging it #tw bugs like just the very thing that I am needs to be censored for people's well-being? I'm sorry if I come across judgmental. Offline I constantly interact with people saying they’re a nature lover but centipedes are the only thing on Earth that they still hate. And I have to come online knowing that any of those people could be bloggers in the alterhuman tags and it’s my responsibility to tiptoe around them. “Because centipedes are scary and disgusting.” Because I’m scary and disgusting. My brain is not capable of hearing a difference and I can’t change that. It is so much my reality that it's the same emotional mix of anger and anxiety and hurt that would be (has been, lol) triggered by someone ranting about how much they hate Jews or trans people to me.

[myownwholewildworld]

been debating for two days about this ask. i have just blocked the anon but still... this is in case some of you agree with them...

i am baffled (not really) by the sheer fucking audacity some of you have on this platform hiding behind the anon mask. what do you think gives you the right to come to my askbox (or anyone's) and say stupid shit like this? if you think my writing is nothing fancy, then why the fuck are you so eager to get an update? so much so that you threaten to feed it into fucking AI? you need to get a fucking life.

writers or creators are not fucking machines. we are humans with lives outside this hellsite. we don't owe you anything we don't want to owe you. we write and we share it with you all because we want to be part of fandom/community. you don't have the right to demand anything from anyone, because you are consuming our stories for free, stories we write in our own free time instead of doing something else. and even if they weren't free, you still have no fucking right.

threatening to feed a creator's fic into AI is probably the lowest you can fall to in fandom, the dumbest shit you can spew. if you rather interact with a machine that spits out soulless fics, what are you doing here? this is what's killing fandom (along with racism), impatient, self-centred people like you. once no real writers remain, what shit are you gonna feed into your beloved AI? or will you just ask it to generate a fic from scratch based off hundreds, if not thousands, of stolen works while killing the environment all at once? you already have accounts of AI-generated fics here on tumblr, go follow those. they will post 2 fics a day just to amuse you.

having said that, i don't know what fic you're referring to, but this is definitely not the way to go about asking for updates. i don't mind it when people ask nicely and are truly excited for an update, but this crap? nah. go fuck yourself you cunt.

[vaguely-concerned]

how much have the crows actually been sanitized outside of the very narrow view you get of them both in place and in time in veilguard, and how much is caterina deliberately putting her most presentable and pr friendly foot forward because she needs HELP with both the grandson and the antaam situations and is already playing from a weakened overwhelmed position. is she going to show off all the dirty laundry the crows undeniably have in front of the people she's courting for an alliance? is rook going to be looking a gift crow in the beak too closely when help is offered, go digging through that laundry basket on their own initiative on principle, knowing what you might find further down in it isn't pretty and might still be sharp, while the world is burning? is it entirely coincidental that the people caterina picks to interact with you most is teia -- the youngest, most charismatic and notably most weirdly idealistic of the talons -- and viago -- who is perhaps none of these things naturally but is dependable and logical and sharp and also down so cataclysmically bad for teia that when she runs in shouting 'TEIA YES!!! >:D' he sighs with longsuffering resignation and goes '...viago also yes. I suppose. under duress, let the record note' and follows.

surely parts of how each house functions would be left largely up to the individual talons, right? as long as they produce crows capable of doing the job and keeping up with the competition, I doubt the first talon micromanages how they get there (...for good or ill. lots of dead fledglings buried under that laissez faire policy, probably). they're very far away from a monolithic structure, they're constantly competing merchant houses/families striving to gain the upper hand held in check by little except 'if enough of the other houses shake hands and gang up on us for pushing our luck we're fucked, so don't push it too far'. like I believe lucanis says at one point, even calling them an organization is stretching the definition to a breaking point in some ways lol this is fully herding cats territory. all this to say that in this game we spend most of our time in teia's house. andarateia cantori, of the firm genuine conviction recognized as mildly unhinged by all the other talons that the crows truly are her family, who loves them with her whole unstoppable foolhardy thinks-she-will-die-young-and-live-eternally-in-song-and-story heart for it. teia, who won't leave the cantori diamond even to go home to sleep because she doesn't want the fledglings to have to see the place empty. do I think the way teia cantori would run her house is indicative of the average experience of being trained as and living as a crow? no. obviously. why are people seeming to assume that so immediately? sometimes I do wonder if I'm going insane.

between that and the antaam situation -- which turns the romanticized image antiva already is eager to reach for with the crows (the same way european literary tradition through the ages sure LOVES a knight, no matter what knights were actually like when you had one kicking around in real life) into an effective and recognizable symbol of resistance from an outside force (at least these awful little guys are home grown in a way we're kind of proud of despite it all and also they are deeply inescapably cool)... perhaps indeed a symbol of resistance and freedom that momentarily covers for a multitude of sins. I don't think we need to draw definitive conclusions about what the crows are like universially, historically or in different contexts from what we see in veilguard. sort of like the british in the pop cultural understanding being 'the good guys' when we think about WW2, and the sheer ludicrousness of that characterization of the british empire seen in any other context or angle lmao. I DO think there are some genuine writerly '*handwaves established ugliness aside aggressively* just uuuuuh don't worry about it! not important right now! you can feel at least ok hanging out with the cool theater kids but with murder they're like. comparatively chill in this context it's fine and they're fun' going on too. and you know what. they are fun. invenci is unfortunately objectively right, but the crows are sooo much more fun. and in fiction land that trumps all. absolutely baffling writing choice when you read through to the political/ideological conclusion that's reached from it of course (sort of accidentally? I think???), but would it really be a bioware game without a few of those. it's how you know you're home (derogatory and affectionate)

in short there are writing problems by god are there real problems here. obviously. and it'd take smarter and more knowledgeable people than me to properly untangle all of that. glorifying organized crime is a time honoured tradition in fiction that perhaps... shouldn't be quite so much and is uh risky, you're always playing with fire there. but I frankly don't think the 'de-edgeifying' for lack of a better term is that much of an inescapable one or that it erases what we knew of the crows before, we're just getting the angle on them in one very specific time and place in history and with specific individuals involved setting the tone. eight little talons killing off most of the established leadership beforehand so it's mostly only teia and viago who get to keep their full power base (even caterina and the dellamortes takes some losses in the apparent death of lucanis before the start of the game) probably figures into that somewhere too lol

[hazashiovo]

Remember in "Sleeping Beauty" the live action how Maleficent had a crow? That's what we're doing now,but with Malleus.

Malleus x crow shifter!Reader

Genre:Fluff, master and loyal servant trope.

Little bird

You always had a thing for shiny,pretty things. No matter whether it was some trash on the ground or a nice ring in a pawn shop.

Shiny objects never failed to grab your attention.

Malleus is shiny and definitely pretty, and you, being you, got attracted to him. Naturally of course.

Malleus is a shiny,pretty fae.

It was near impossible for him not to attract your interes.

Once he realized a certain bird was stalking him, the fae started leaving small amounts of food for you. It always brought a smile on his face when the mysterious bird tilted its head,its dark eyes filled with curiosity. In his eyes,it was such a cute action to do.

He must admit,the bird got his attention,and soon enough it became a habit.

Like crows usually do, you started leaving small trinkets that you personally found pretty, at his window.

It might be a flowery metallic hair clip that attracted you,or maybe some bottle cap with a pretty color.

He appreciated neither less ,it was a curious habit the fae and the animal picked on.

So malleus started reading. About crows,their habits and soon enough he found stories about them.

Those little creatures are quite interesting,it's what he would think while reading a particular sentence that made him think about the bird,once again.

Some say if a crow is fond of somebody they leave gifts as a sign of appreciation and sometimes, loyalty.

When this little black feathered animal chooses a person to grow attached to,it's quite the view to other people. And it means that you, as a person,are enough to gain one animal's trust.

Dark, beautiful creatures of the night, growing attached to complete strangers.

What Malleus didn't know was that inside the dark bird,there was a human soul.

Free to transform whenever they pleased, not really.

You can't shift whenever you want to,unless you want to be seen bare by other students,and you definitely do not want that.

When you're in your animal form you feel free, peaceful to do as you please,fly wherever you want.

Even if you're not truly a crow,the tendencies to behave like one are real besides eating worms and insects. That's not you.

Bleagh.

Before Meeting the tall guy,you used to collect the shiny things you found,but now that he's here, most of the objects you pick up are for him.

He leaves outside his bedroom window bread crumbs,cookie crumbs and whatever the indulging boy thinks is good for you or that you would enjoy.Even if you don't need it,you take them. Mostly to show him you trust him with.

They taste better when somebody gifts them to you. It's a fact.

Soon,Malleus allows himself to touch your head. A gentle rub on your black feathery small head. His green eyes whiden when you push your head in his hand, practically telling him to keep going.

He smiles,as he rubs below your dark beak. Malleus notices the way your eyes close affectionately. He could even imagine a ghostly smile on your beak.

It's one truly cute interaction.

Malleus's friends soon started to notice a particular bird on his shoulder, always watching.

Silver even had a feeling that you understood what they were saying,simply by your body language.

But most of the time crows and ravens are smart birds,some reaching the level of understanding of a 5 year old child.

It's very interesting,you are interesting, especially in Silver's eyes.

But he doesn't pay much attention to you,more busy to focus on Malleus.

You like Silver,he cares about Malleus a lot.

The first time Lillia has met you,he knew that you're not what you seem.

His age isn't a young one, therefore he's been through stuff,and learned things in his life.

Like now,he knows that you're not just a bird. You couldn't fool the older fae even if you tried.

So he silently watches,and he's not ashamed to make comments when you're alone, which isn't often since you're with Malleus most of the time,but still.

This man has you sweating,even if you don't particularly hide yourself on purpose.

Even if you're most comfortable around Malleus in your shifter form,the truth can't be hidden from him forever.

At the same time,you can't just shift in front of him back in your human form.

Meeting him with no clothes on,for the first time even, doesn't really seem like a good first impression.

Unfortunately,that is exactly how it happens. Not the naked part,but let's just say you're not clothed either.

Almost 6 months of constantly being on Malleus's shoulder taught you his schedule. So seeing him in his dorm room,eyes wide open watching your form,that's covered by his blanket.

Your original plan was to shift in his room, quickly change in some clothes that belong to him,and tell him the truth about who you truly are.

Simple as that.

It wasn't simple as that. Malleus arrived in his room earlier than he usually does, barely giving you time to cover yourself up.

Now this situation is exactly not the kind that you wanted to land in.

It's not like you could've brought your own clothes in Malleus's room. Your animal form can't carry that much weight,after all it's a small bird.

"Who are you?" Malleus's voice breaks your line of taughts,all thinking of your failed plan and the embarrassment of being in such a situation.

"This isn't what it looks like." The fae holds a curious expression,after all not every day he's met with a naked person in his chambers. Now that he thinks of it,you do white look familiar,but he just can't figure it out from where.

"Malleus,I swear I'm not a creep or anything of the sort." His silence allows you to continue explaining yourself,the blanket around you getting squeezed tighter around you, praying to whatever God was mocking you that this blanket remains on your naked body.

"You know my name?" You watch as the said boy moves closer towards you,now more curious than before.

You squint your eyes, focused on the floor,trying to find the right words to explain yourself.

How do you tell the boy you're completely loyal to,that you're actually a person with the ability to shift forms.

Exactly,you try explaining it.

"I know everything about you, not in a weird stalking way,don't get me wrong." Swallowing the lump in your throat,you meet eyes with the dark haired fae.

This situation is less than comfortable for you.

"Then do explain,what are you doing in my bedroom and why are you bare?"He leaves out the part where you mentioned knowing him,and focused on the important matter.

"Well,I wanted to tell you the truth,or rather show you the truth but..." A sigh leaves your lips at the failure of your oh so great plan, "I didn't have enough time."

He watches as you follow his steps with your eyes,the deja Vu clear as day.

Just who is this interesting person who claims to know Malleus Draconia?

"Say, child of man, what might the truth be? The one you desired to tell me so bad that it was necessary for you to be bare in my room. Enlighten me." Malleus speaks,voice steady and calm,unlike yours. Shaky and anxious.

"I will gladly talk to you...mind if I ask but, can I borrow some clothes?" The question leaves Malleus a bit shocked,only nodding in agreement.

What shocked him even more was that you knew from where to take the clothes.

Excusing yourself to change,you don't miss the unusual expression on Malleus's face. Not so often do you get to see him expressing such an emotion, especially one you caused.

Finally dressed,you dare to properly meet eyes with Malleus. Ready to explain yourself properly.

"Now,I owe you an explanation." The boy takes a few seconds to take in your new appearance,his clothes looking quite nice on you.

"That you do,child of man. Starting by why you were in my room?" He doesn't take his eyes off you,instead fixates them in your eyes. There it was again,that sense of familiarity. Like he's known you for a long time.

"I came to your room, because I wished to show you who I truly was." A deep breath in,and an exhale. It's time to break it to him,that's the whole reason why you came here , right?

Your eyes dart around the room,a singular object catching your eye. A shiny silver ring you found on campus a couple months ago.

Making quick effort,you move towards the table to pick up the ring.

Malleus realizes it,and before your hand could make contact with the piece of jewelry his palm wraps around your wrist, stopping you immediately.

"How is you touching my belongings going to answer any of my questions? Are you perhaps here to steal,human?" His green radiant eyes narrow at you,gaze burning into your own. This ring could never be worn by the fae. Unfortunately you learned that one of Malleus's weaknesses is silver.

If you had known before you would've kept the ring to yourself. Even with his condition,Malleus still kept it, because it was a gift from his loyal little bird.

"Allow me," your soft eyes break contact with his narrowed ones,just for a second. He allows you to pick up the ring,his gaze fixated on what you're trying to show him.

"I brought this to you 3 Months ago,you fed me candy bits,even if it's unhealthy for a bird,I accepted them." Malleus's narrowed eyes widen he seems to be doing it a lot nowadays,or is it just the effect you have on him? Maybe.

"Now how could you have known that,and why would you refer to yourself as a bird?" He's not quite getting the hang of the situation,in his defense,this has never happened before.

You sigh,maybe the best thing to do is just show him,but then when you'll turn back you'll be naked again. Ugh...this is a curse.

"What if I just show you instead?" This was more a question towards yourself rather than for him,even so,Malleus nods. Carefully watching you as you back away.

You take a deep breath in,and there it is. The clothes you just borrowed from the tall male in a pile on the ground.

His brows furrow, was this a trick? Did you wish to play a prank on him?

He doesn't get to drown to deep in his thoughts,the sudden movement in the pile of clothes draws his attention.

The boy slightly bends down, trying to get a glimpse of whatever might be there. And out of the clothes,a crow emerges, a black feathered beautiful crow.

Not just any Crow,but you.

Now it's clear,why you were so familiar in the boys eyes.

Even so,the realization hits him hard, especially when you take your designed place on his shoulder.

Malleus's eyes link with the bird's,your eyes."It's...you?" Voice questionable,you knew he wouldn't have an extreme reaction. The time spent with him taught you that.

From your beak, the ring lays securely gripped. The fae's hand extends, allowing you to drop it in,only for a few seconds. The metal burning his porcelain hands. The ring quickly lands on the table, remaining as nothing more than a gift,and a decoration to his dark room.

You cow,like Malleus could understand you. It feels good to show yourself to him,not having to carry what felt like a horrible lie in your chest.

Once the shock wears off, he smiles. That warm beautiful smile that warmed your heart every time you saw it.

Fortunately,most of the time it was directed to you,after you brought him something nice from one of your trips outside the school.

"You're quite the interesting one,little birdie." He takes the liberty to adjust your position, setting you on his wrist.

"You never fail to surprise me." His white,large hand gently pet your little head,right above the beak. He swears he could hear you purr,like a cat.

Maybe it was only his imagination,but the way your head once again leaned into his palm,that wasn't his mind.

You two make quite the pair.

.

.

I had this little idea and I just had to write it. Maybe I'll make a part two to it, depending on what ideas I get next.

[deathlyalcohol]

Campers in this area? (Part 1)

Proxy!Toby x GN!Reader (NSFW)

Words: 2.5k Time to read: 20min

Summary: You live alone in a house near the woods, rarely are people coming by or are in the woods but today you see campers. They behave strangely, nevertheless you continue with your life... or are you?

CW: Proxy!Toby so he really isn't the dream guy, Mention of reader being mentally ill, kidnapping, stalking, oral male receiving, CNC, Masky & Hoodie being dicks, Toby smokes (he will always be a smoker for me as a fellow one.)

Side note from the author: I try to make this part a bit faster, also comment any more ideas for the next parts. It will be a series. Also this is the hatefuck fanfic’s it will get there dw. Excuse me when it´s not a good part I may or may not be intoxicated again.

-NSFW UNDER THE CUT! MINORS DON´T INTERACT-

Since you moved away from the city to start a life near by the woods, your life has been very quiet. No family, no friends just you and your cat William. An outdoorsy tuxedo cat. He just loves to stroll outside and hunt birds.

You continue doing the dishes while you watch him run outside. Humming the song that's running in the radio. It is so quiet, so lovely warm, it is a real life cottage experience, you never thought to achieve this. I mean in this economy how can a house near the woods be so possible cheap? You don't even know why, god you couldn't care less to look into the history of this area. Instead you told the real estate agent you would take it immediately. It´s been a year since you lived in the big house. Sometimes getting visitor who happen to roam around the area. You never thought it was weird inviting strangers into your home but months went by and eventually no one came around anymore.

"I guess they got sick of me" you tell yourself. Although it hurts, seeing no one ever again, it´s what you wanted. That's the first reason why you moved away from the loud small apartment in this forsaken city.

You finished washing up the dishes to get some fresh air. You follow along the table and past the living room and out through the backdoor where your big garden is. Planting your own vegetables and fruits is fun. Sitting on the bench and throwing your head back, so the sun can shine directly at your face.

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

Toby breathing heavily and again they have to stay in some fucking weird place he thinks.

"How long d-do we have to stay here?" he asks the masked men.

"As long as it takes. We need to find this person. Apparently the operator really wants them badly" Masky chuckling, handing out a cigarette to each of them.

That's bullshit why would we need another proxy? They were already the best of the best! He just hopes to get this mission over as soon as possible. Nothing mattered to him anymore, he lost his home, his sister but not those annoying tics and of course he had to get swapped up by a weird entity making him an even worse killer and person. Well actually a very skilled killer, he never would have known if it wasn't for the operator, that he can chop human limps into pieces so well. He wanders through the woods, the cigarette in his left hand, a cold beer in the other one. He takes a sip, the cool drink making him feel refreshed. He decides to go further away from the camp site.

"Don't wander off dipshit!" Masky screams after him. He doesn't care besides no one will show up anyways.

After a 30 minute walk he spots something in the distance. A house, a brown one with a heavy black roof. Seems similar to the mansion. Curiously he goes up to the home. In the distance spotting a person, he concentrates to sneak closer. Holy shit, is this the person we are looking for? They look weak as fuck… ugh better hit them with the bottle on the head. That's when he reminds himself that he can't do it. They were looking for something else too. He can't help himself but stare at you, you're oblivious. The sun shining your face. He thinks you look like a fucking moron. What the hell, I guess I have to report this to the others. He sneaks away, going back into the woods.

"There you are! Took you long enough, looking for someone to fuck, you pervert?" Masky teasingly asked the brunette.

"N-none of your f-fucking -neck twitch- b-business" his tics getting stronger whenever Masky annoys him. He hates being made fun of and of course he is the perfect victim. "But you know, I found t-the target."

The proxies look at him like he's crazy - well he is…What the fuck are they staring at?

"There is NO possible way, you already found the target. I mean we just fucking got here. The woods are kilometres long! You're a bad fucking liar Rogers." the one in the red flanel scoffs at him.

"I am telling t-the truth -fuck- they live in a house it l-looks similar to the mansion... Man if you both don't believe me I´ll t-take the target out myself. Taking up all the credit.." he says chuckling.

"C´mon Masky don´t be stubborn, hear the kid out." says the one in a yellow hoodie.

„Alright, alright.. so Rogers what you are saying is true!?“ he scoffs.

„Ye the target lives at the e-end of the woods.“ says the brunette.

The older proxies are thinking, whether they should believe the youngest or if they should start preparing for the upcoming kidnapping.

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

You don’t even notice when the stranger was right at your house. You feel at ease, falling asleep on the comfortable bench.

It‘s right before the sun goes down when you wake up. Wow you haven’t gotten such a good nap in a long time. - You decide to go in, getting the cat food from the cupboard and call out William‘s name. …Nothing…

You don’t hear a sound. Usually when you shake the box of snacks he always comes running in. This time he doesn’t. Odd but you try to brush it off. Your loving, cuddly cat not appearing is unsettling but he could just be farther away from the home, not hearing the box being shaken for him.

You went to bed. Hoping your cat will be at the foot of the bed in the morning.

You wake up to a soft paw touching your face. -Meooowww- that is the first thing you hear in the morning. Thank god! you think to yourself. He’s save at home. You both get up, make him and yourself a bowl. I wonder if I should go to the woods today? Maybe just a small walk. You don't think for too long.

You get up, get dressed with some sweatpants and a T-shirt. It´s hot outside so you won't need a jacket just your boots. You put them on and call your cat to come roam the forest with you. Walking in the warm sun under the trees is relaxing. You went further in and go to your usual spot. That's when you notice large footprints in the dirt. Though there are 3 different sizes. Scary but intriguing, maybe campers are around the area. You follow the trail of shoe prints and arrive at a campsite. You sneak behind a tree when you see three men talking, standing around a fire place and drinking beer. That’s when one of them notices you. Fuck.. Fuck fuck.

He walks up to you behind the tree.

„So.. what do we have there?“ the one in the hoodie asks.

You got startled, your fight or flight kicked in and you started running. Your cat wandering off before you got to the end of the woods. You check behind yourself, not seeing a man or anyone. You barely got away but you don't even know if someone followed you. Still you went home and locked your doors. The way he said it. A low deep voice but sounding enthusiastic. No, you can't find him hot but you kinda do.. You must be sick, technically you're mentally ill, fighting with depression and other disorders your whole life. But this is twisted, these men seem dangerous, strange even. You knew something was off about them.

You wait for your cat appearing a couple of hours later. You´re finally feel at ease and went to bed, rolling around and fighting to stay awake.

The morning arrives, waking up as usual and going downstairs to the kitchen. Half asleep you pour yourself a glass of water when you find a gift on the table. Shit...were they in my house??? You get a kitchen knife out of the drawer, looking around, going closer to the wrapped small package on the table. That's when suddenly you get strangled from behind and your light goes out...

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

"Shit. They do look like the r-right p-person." Toby exclaims.

"You THINK?" Masky is screaming at him. They can't turn back now tho. Already on the way, taking what they need from your house.

"They are the right target, calm down." says Hoodie.

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

You wake up in an empty shabby room, it’s worn down and all you can see are gray walls and a metal door. Fuck!fuck, fuck, fuck. WHAT DO I DO??! You ask yourself. It’s quiet and dark except for this light above you. It’s a small lightbulb holding on for dear life, so are you too right now. The door opens, you try to scream but a tape is placed over your mouth.

„Finally awake sweetheart?“ Masky chuckles.

„Took you long enough. Here let me take off the tape.“ he frantically bites his lip. He thinks it’s hilarious how scared you are.

„WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?“ you scream at the men.

„Just y-you. And your little p-pill friends.“ Toby says mockingly.

„God… We just want to know how you know the operater. Or we will kill you if you don’t tell us.“ says Hoodie.

„The operator..? Who is that.“

„You know who we are talking about sweetie. The one who watches.“ Masky adds.

„You mean like slenderman? The myth entity. Well holy fuck i didn’t know he was even real.“ your cocky reply sends them into an annoyed look.

„Fuc-ck Okay. Listen don’t be so fucking annoying. Y-you are already one of the proxies now. He commands us to.“ Toby replies.

„Wooow I am so stocked. You sound like fucking morons. I can’t believe I got kidnapped by some worshipping cult people.“ You mock them. I mean who would even believe such stupid shit?

„You listen h-here you stupid fuck. I don’t even w-want -twitch- a new f-fucking member BUT I cannot not obey him. He watches us everywhere and h-his orders are final. So do you u-understand, you useless piece of s-shit?!?“ Toby holding you by your shoulder nearly screaming the words he just said.

„Yeah, I guess. I mean you are the one being useless, just screaming at me instead of convincing me.

Toby nearly fucking looses it, the two men having to drag him out of the room, leaving you alone again in this empty cold cellar.

You try to do anything, wiggling and seeing if theres anything in your reach to free yourself. Eventually you just give up.

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

It‘s been hours since anyone has come in. You were hungry, thirsty and exhausted. Did they drug me or something? You were not sure what had happened but you desperately needed water.

That's when someone opens the door. Oh god.. You hoped the worst to come and that's when a brunette steps in to the room.

"B-boss says to give you some water or f-food or else you die." he says in an annoyed way.

It was some bread with cheese on it. And of course the desired water. You wouldn't care if there would be food poisoning or anything you just needed it.

"Thanks. I guess. Could you untie me now, so I can eat alone?" you ask calmly.

"Ain´t doing. He also told me to f-fucking feed you."

Fuck that is embarrassing. But at least you get to eat. He feeds you the bread and then the water.

"You know ya´ fucking p-pathetic. Why would WE need you. I mean I could be going out and fuck some bitches right now but no. Ole´ Toby Rogers gotta feed the target." he scoffs at you.

"You know I don't even want to be fucking here, you freak." you reply.

His blood is boiling now. Not liking you from the start and now having to feed you and mock him. He looses it. Grabbing your neck and choking you.

"You listen here you little shit. I don't care what you want. Y-You have no choice. Just making me fucking angry. I think I should make you useful if you aren't."

Finally letting you go you try to catch a breath. Spitting and coughing.

He unzips his pants, pulling down his boxers. God why does this turn you on? This guy fully hates you and now he wants to shove his cock down your throat? You can't help but look at him. His dick veiny and long, already covered with pre-cum. Fuck... You have no choice if you don't want to be killed.

"Open up slut or else I make you!" he is practically yelling at you.

You stare at it. You really find this attractive, why?

You're opening up your mouth. He's rough, thrusting it in and out of you, like he hadn't had this in a long time. He didn't, usually just jerking off whenever he got the chance but this... this was different.

"F-fuck your such a good whore. Can't believe ya like this. Am I t-turning you on just by face-fucking you, huh?" he groans while looking at your pathetic face.

Tears running down your face, you moan on it. This feeling. You hadn't had a dick in a long time too. This feels so arousing. You feel yourself getting hornier by the minute.

"Ugh.. fuck, you're t-taking it so good. Fuck." he can't help himself. Having never felt this good since years.

Maybe you weren't as annoying as he thinks. At least you were good for fucking. God the tongue is driving him crazy. He feels you choking, just turning him on more.

You were trying to tell him to stop but all of the moaning and choking he can't listen. Hell he will not stop until he cums in the sweet mouth of yours.

"F-fuck. Shut the fuck up, I am so close. This loud mouth of yours really can't ever shut up or w-what?" his groaning becoming louder.

You feel so good. You're a moaning mess. God this is so bad why, why, why.

"Agh... fuck." his head falling back while he cums in your mouth. His face scrunching up.

You swallow it without even thinking.

"Atta´ dear. I know y´liked it. Maybe we can continue this another time." he says, pulling his pants back up and leaving you alone in the room.

You can't fathom what just happened. You feel dizzy and horny. You wander off and fall asleep, hoping that this is just a bad, bad dream.

Side note from the author: I AM finally done with all my exams. I am freeeee. Also it's summer break now so I will be uploading many fanfics as soon as possible if I have any ideas. Any requests are very welcome!!

MY MASTERLIST

[honeekyuu]

love affair. [tsukishima kei x f!reader] chapter two.

>>The unsavory reputation that Tsukishima Kei has built for himself as the Sendai Frogs' rudest rookie puts his upcoming contract renewal at risk

or

Tsukki really needs a girlfriend, and you really need everyone to stop calling you his pathetic, pining best friend<<

series status: [complete]

previous. || masterlist. || next.

a/n: kyoutani/kiyoko was not the side pair i expected to fall in love with but here you go

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

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

The two months that follow the start of the relationship between you and Tsukishima Kei can only be characterized as ‘ change ’. 

You find your flow easily after that first week, the unspoken agreement made on the couch that night at the forefront of every interaction together. In order to make the relationship convincing, you both learn to play the part to the best of your abilities. You learn to lean into the expectations of the people watching you closely, playing into them and even surpassing them — because you can rely on your understanding of each other, the kind of familiarity that comes with 15 years of history. 

You already know his regimented morning routine, because you were tortured into keeping the same hours as him in high school. You know that the muscle patches he prefers for his back are different than the ones he prefers for his shoulders, because it’s always been you who applies those patches to the places he can’t reach. 

In the same way, Tsukki knows how you take your coffee — hot almond milk vanilla latte in the morning, always, followed by an iced oat milk mocha with two extra shots of espresso in the afternoon. He’d accidentally gotten you a hot mocha once and watched you wilt a little but drink it, anyway, and then he’d never done it again. He knows you prefer to study not in the library or at your department, but on the quad outside of some random administrative building, because you’d once called it the ‘perfect ratio of quiet, focus space and people-watching from afar’. 

So, when people swoon and scream online about how someone had seen you tearing down the aisles of the nearest convenience store at 5am after Tsukki had pulled a muscle while out for a run — your hands picking out his patches without needing to think about it — you’re awarded the ‘ Great Girlfriend ’ points without really having earned them. And when Tsukki’s spotted ordering your complicated afternoon mocha without struggling — even asking them to remake it, because he’d tasted it and could tell it was regular milk — before wandering knowingly off to some random patch of grass by the Student Records Building, your Twitter DMs nearly break with the amount of people asking how you ‘ trained him so well ’. 

What so few people realize, even though your long-time friendship is brought up so often in the media, is that you and Tsukki don’t do these things because you’re madly in love and have made the effort to learn the small, seemingly unimportant details about each other. You do them because they’re ingrained in your understanding of each other. You do them because there’s no alternative; Tsukki will only use Salonpas on his back, and you won’t drink anything with regular milk because it makes your stomach hurt. These are just the facts, but, for some reason, they seem to convince people that your relationship is real more than being seen on a date ever has. 

In fact, the things you are learning about each other and teaching each other about are the larger, romantic details that people always assume come first. You learn that Tsukki’s default pet name for you is ‘ princess ’, but that, when he’s being intentionally antagonistic, he has a habit of bending down to your height and plastering a mocking smile on his face while calling you ‘ sweetheart ’. He learns that you show affection by feeding him, his arms always full of tupperware when he leaves your apartment and two – two, not one – lunches shoved haphazardly in his gym bag when you know he’s going to have a long training day.

And, of course, there is a lot to learn about each other physically. You have to learn how to walk with his hand in your back pocket or on your waist, because that’s how he likes to walk you to class. And he has to learn that, unless it’s a peck hello or goodbye, you tend to start with a kiss to his cheek — because you get too shy to flat-out kiss him without some kind of warm-up.

You learn that you like his hands very much, but that you like when he keeps eye contact with you more than anything. It’s in the way he beckons you to him after a game or in the way he watches you walk from the door of a cafe all the way to the seat he’s reserved for you. That, coupled with the contrast of him being rough with his blocks at practice but careful about moving your hair out of your face, guarantees that you need several long minutes to recover after a moment with him. 

He learns that when you look up at him with those doe eyes he didn’t even know you had — he’s most familiar with your eyes when they’re mid-eye-roll — that it takes an absurd amount of self-control not to give you everything you want. And when you tie your hair up, especially on the hot afternoons sprinkled through the start of Fall, he has to tear his eyes away from the curve of your neck and physically sit on his hands to stop himself from touching the sliver of tummy that peeks out when your shirt lifts a little.

In private, of course, these things are never issues. In private, you are, for the most part, the same as you’ve always been: two friends who fight and laugh and keep an appropriate amount of distance between each other. Friends who get together on Friday nights to drink and watch bad TV. Friends who never need to think around each other, because that’s the best part about being friends.

It’s just that sometimes friends do need to keep things from each other – which is something you’re both still learning to deal with.

When you try on new outfits and ask for his opinion, his scan of your body is cursory because he knows not to let himself linger on how this dress sits on your hips or how that shirt makes your boobs look. He’s careful not to let you catch him staring at your thighs, on display when you wear those cursed little pajama shorts. And he’s quick to always take the corner of the couch instead of sitting beside you, even though he itches to snake an arm around your waist and pull your side flush to his.

When he sits at his dining table, telling you about practice while you cook dinner in his and Yamaguchi’s kitchen, your biggest challenge is keeping your eyes off of his bare chest and wet hair, his skin still dewy and warm after his shower. When you write papers while sitting on your tiny, Twin XL bed and he comes over from the couch to bother you, you’re tasked with keeping your breathing even and your eyes firmly on your laptop, because there’s never enough space between you and you worry what you might do if you look at him. And when he checks the time and mumbles that he can stay for one more episode of your show – even though it’s almost always past midnight when he does it – you know to hide your smile behind your hand, because it’s expected that you’ll sigh and say ‘ just one more ’ like a normal friend.

In private, friends don’t unknowingly seek out reasons to brush against each other, and they don’t subconsciously wear less clothes around each other, only to chalk it up to being comfortable around each other.

But you don’t need to know that. And he doesn’t need to know that. Because as long as you both know the rules for being in private – “hands to yourself” – then everything else can be kept hidden.

In public, however, things are quite a bit different. 

In public, you find yourself in a no-holds-barred relationship where nothing – nothing – is off limits.

In public, the boy who used to bring his collection of dinosaur figurines over to your house on the weekends is the same boy who now picks you up from class with a kiss and the promise of free ‘ girlfriend-discount’ coffee. The boy who wouldn’t share his crayons with you unless you promised your snacks to him – that’s the boy who shamelessly buys you a small wardrobe’s worth of Frogs merch with his name on it, tying your hair back with a neon green TK scrunchie and unironically presenting a set of green pajama shorts to you, his face printed on the left ass cheek.

The boy who’d sling mud into the hair of mean little girls who would put their hands on you.

That’s the boy who puts his hands on you now.

On the small of your back –  a self-assured touch that guides you through a sea of flashing lights and reporters waiting at the entrance to the Frogs’ home gym. Slung around your waist – fingers hooked loosely into the belt loop on your hip while he stands with you at your favorite cafe’s self-order kiosk, his card already out. Tickling the inside of your thigh – the pad of his thumb drawing circles in your skin while he drives, his other hand reaching to cup your face so he can press his lips gently to yours at red lights.

Hidden under your shirt – fingertips kneading at all the plushest parts of your skin while he kisses you stupid at the front of an empty lecture hall, the door cracked open just slightly. Because – while it’s an obvious conclusion that any form of physical intimacy at home should be strictly off limits – the corner classroom on the top floor of your department that you know is unused at 2pm every day just so happens to walk a very fine line between public and private.

Public enough that you might be caught – as long as he’s not getting into fights , as Management is fond of reminding the two of you – and public enough that you sincerely see no issue with letting your best friend shove his tongue down your throat. Private enough, however, that you’re able to speak candidly to each other, even with your legs wrapped around Tsukki’s waist and his fingertips brushing across the underwire of your lacy bra.

That’s where you find yourself now, on a chilly Tuesday afternoon in the last week of October, after weeks of meeting up here. Your weight is supported by the table at the front of the lecture hall, skirt hiked up a little too high and hands curled into his hair. He’s bent over you, lips burning a path of bruises along the column of your throat while his hips, slotted between yours, keep your legs open and your skirt pushed up.

“You look good today,” He murmurs against your skin, your quiet panting the only other sound in the room. One of his hands is pressed firmly against your back, keeping you close to him, and the other is gripping your thigh, much higher than he really should be. But you can’t seem to mind, even when you feel the blunt edge of his nails scratch briefly along the line of your panties.

That’s the change you still haven’t gotten totally used to – the shiver of anticipation that’s started to run down your spine when he gets too close, the flip of excitement just under your navel when your body presses against his.

After years of not caring even a little bit about who he would take home from a party – about the rumors that would float around campus, whispered by girls who’ve gotten into bed with him – you’re facing the reality that is being attracted to Tsukishima Kei.

“Which part?” You mumble back absentmindedly, tightening your hold in his hair when he bites down on the crook of your neck, his tongue soothing the pain right away.

“Dunno,” He says, gripping your thighs and dragging your hips minimally closer to his. “I just really like this.” He thumbs at your skirt in explanation. Your body responds when he chuckles low, goosebumps breaking out all over your skin. “Giving me something to think about tonight.”

“You’re doing it again, Tsukki,” You joke, laughily breathily. He’d started doing that in the last couple weeks – making little comments like that. You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to it. “I didn’t know celibacy would hit you this hard.”

He sighs against your skin, shaking his head. “There you go again, not believing me.”

There’s an embarrassingly large part of you that wants to. But you know well enough that you’re not his type, so you’re not sure what could possibly going on with him if not an extreme case of blue-balls after two months without sex. Somehow, even after everything you’ve done together the last few weeks, it seems silly to think he might genuinely want you. Surely not.

“Well, you’re a flirt, so I can never tell with you,” You say, entirely honest but playing it off like a joke. He stops kissing your throat and leaves his lips against your pulse, breathing hard. 

“Name one time I’ve lied to you.”

You scratch your nails against his scalp. “It’s not that serious, Tsukki. I can take the joke.”

“Y/n-”

You laugh nervously into his shoulder, feeling him shift in annoyance. “What’s going on with you lately, huh?” Your insecurities peek through, and you’re stupid enough to act on them. “Should I let you off the leash for one night? To get it out of your system?”

It’s the wrong thing to say – even you know that.

His mouth leaves your skin before you realize what’s going on, one of his hands coming up to grip your face. You gasp, seeing that he’s glaring at you with those sharp, golden eyes.

“You really don’t know when to shut the fuck up, do you?” 

You blink up at him, your chest heaving. You want to look away, because, while you’ve seen that scowl before, it’s never been like this. And you know he won’t let you look away. His fingertips only tighten on your cheeks when you try, and he uses his grip to force you to shake your head.

“No, you don’t,” He whispers mockingly. “You don’t know. You just love to say shit that’ll piss me off.”

You have no idea what’s going on right now. You don’t know that you’ve ever seen this side of him. His condescending tone is nothing new – mocking jokes and rude comments are not new. But the way he’s treating you now is not that, and the way you’re reacting to it is not that. There’s something else, and you want so badly to blame it on anything that isn’t this newfound physical attraction to Tsukishima Kei.

Because there is absolutely no reason that the way he’s speaking to you should turn you on. No reason at all.

“Apologize,” He whispers, eyes steady on yours.

You blink stupidly, too distracted by the wave of heat that crashes over you. He lifts your chin toward him, eyes narrowing.

“Apologize, Y/n. For insulting me.”

“Did I insult you?” You bite weakly, your voice shaky and your heart pounding in your ears. You’re still his best friend. You’re still the girl who’s never backed down from a challenge. “Then you apologize too, for joking about being attracted to me.”

His eyebrow twitches with irritation. “What?” He hisses, clearly holding back.

“‘s not nice to mess with me like that, Tsukishima,” You say, your confidence shrinking by the second. You can’t handle much more of this – the way he’s grabbing you, the way he’s glaring at you.

His eyes flicker with something you can’t place when you say his name. You’ve noticed that, too. That he reacts when you use his full name. You don’t know why, or if it’s even conscious.

He scowl twists into a sneer. “You know, you’ve been really fucking annoying recently.” His eyes light up when you gasp, and he leans down, releasing your face in favor of planting both hands on the desk behind you, caging you in. “Making all these little jokes. Downplaying the shit I say to you.”

“Well, you’ve been particularly horny recently,” You say, some of your sense coming back now that he doesn’t have a literal hold on you. “Gotta keep reminding you that it’s me you’re dealing with.” You brush some of his hair out of his face, your touch gentle. “Before you do something you’ll regret.”

“I thought I told you to get over that,” is all he says, his voice nothing more than a whisper. There’s still heat behind it, but he mostly just looks frustrated.

“It’s not that easy,” You whisper back, your nose brushing his. “Especially not with the whole world reminding me that I’m nothing like the girls before me.”

So maybe you’re still a little sensitive about the 16-tweet thread someone had made last week, comparing photos of you and photos of all of Tsukki’s exes and one-night stands. He’d gotten the account banned before you’d even looked through all of the tweets, but there are still 13 side-by-sides haunting you when you close your eyes.

“Of course you’re not like them,” He says, rolling his eyes. “I don’t remember half of their names.”

You give him a deadpan stare. “Charming.”

“What do you want me to say, Y/n? That I don’t have a type?” He still hovers over you, close enough that you see the honesty sitting in his eyes. “Yeah, I have a type. All those other girls look the same to me.”

And then he grabs at your thighs, fingers familiar on your skin. You squirm, but he holds tight. “But that doesn’t mean I’m forcing myself to put my hands on you.” He squeezes you, tugs at your skirt and threads his fingers through your hair. “Doesn’t mean I’m putting myself through hell to do this to you.” He tightens his grip and tilts your head to the side, and you realize he’s talking about the fresh hickies on your neck.

He lets you go, standing tall and towering over you. You crane your neck back to look up at him, and his eyes flick down to the hollow of your throat. Your heart jumps when he lifts a hand and rests it there, fingers flexing loosely around the front of your neck.

That’s new.

“You think I would drag you in here and lay you back on this desk every week if I thought you were ugly?” He whispers, eyes a little clouded as he looks you over. You, with your legs still spread and wrapped around his waist. With your chest heaving and your eyes blown wide, surprise written all over your face. With your throat in his hand and no indication that you wouldn’t want it there.

“God,” He laughs to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re so stupid, Y/n. Two months and you still think like this.” When you only sigh shakily, unsure what to do with this conversation, he tightens his hold on your throat. His eyes are lit up like sunlight, warm but quick to burn if you make the wrong move. “Looks like I’ll just have to prove you wrong.”

What?

“Tsukki-” “Y/n.” 

You both jump, turning to the door. Nariko is rushing into the room, but, when she sees the precarious position the two of you are in, she respectfully averts her eyes.

“Nariko,” You gasp, sitting up. Tsukki’s quick to pull your skirt down over your thighs and help you down.

“Time for our daily dose of Sendai Sports ,” He sighs, clearly annoyed.

“Sorry-I-” Nariko’s got her hand over her eyes, her camera hanging uselessly at her side. She very well could have snapped a photo of you two in that moment, but she’d chosen not to.

You’re infinitely glad it’s her that had walked in.

“The other reporters figured out that you didn’t stay at the cafe after your class. They’re on their way back here now.”

You’d walked across the street after class to get your iced coffee and study at a corner table, but you’d snuck out the back when Tsukki had texted you to meet him here. Your coffee sits, untouched and lukewarm, on a nearby desk. 

Nariko’s the only one who’d seen you re-enter the building, and that’s because she’d snuck out the back of the cafe with you, the woman a frequent companion over the months. She hadn’t asked any of the questions she’s probably paid to ask when you’d gone in the side door of your department, and she’d conveniently stopped to tie her shoes you’d said you needed to take care of something on the top floor and gotten on the elevator.

You collect your bag from the floor quickly, tossing the coffee away as you fix your appearance.

“Damn it.” You look to Tsukki, who seems less annoyed with Nariko now that she’s made it clear she’s here to help. “We have to go out the back.” And then you look at Nariko, having accepted long ago that this woman feels like an older sister. “Is my makeup okay?”

She looks you over, starting to nod, but then she spots the bruises on your neck. “Uhm…”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, I know. I’m not happy about it, either.”

“ You were at the time ,” Tsukki mutters under his breath. You elbow him hard, and Nariko sniffs in order to cover her laugh. She still knows better than to get comfortable with him.

“You’re fine,” She says, glancing out the door. “But you should go now. They were coming in through the front just as I was getting to the elevator, and it’ll be obvious what you were doing if they find you. It’s better to be caught running and have the reason be implied – photos of your smeared makeup and wrinkled shirt will always look bad.”

“You said I looked fine!” You laugh, grabbing Tsukki’s hand and dragging him out the door. You’re both halfway down the hall to the far door, jogging hand in hand, when you hear the shutter of her camera. You turn back, finding her smiling playfully.

“I still have a job to do, you know!”

Your laughter echoes through the hall, and even Tsukki’s smothering a grin as you take the stairs to the fire exit. You rush with him across the quad, a few people spotting you and taking blurry pictures. You make it to his car in record time, your shared laughter growing when he drives by a group of reporters looking around the quad in confusion.

He drives you back to your apartment, the tension between you eased significantly. But it’s still there, lingering in your mind.

What had he meant when he said he would prove you wrong?

“Tsukki,” You say when he’s stopped at the red light near your apartment. “Earlier, when you said you would prove me wrong… What did you…” You trail off, wondering if you’re really ready to hear his answer.

He doesn’t answer for a long moment, and you think that maybe he’s not going to speak at all.

“There’s a party on Saturday night – after the game,” He says abruptly, and you have no clue what this has to do with anything. 

“Okay?”

“Wanna go?”

“Oh.” You blink. “Isn’t Saturday Halloween?”

“Conveniently enough.”

“Sure. Should-” You clear your throat, suddenly feeling a bit out of place. You’re not sure if things are the same with him after what had happened in the lecture hall, and you’re definitely not sure why he won’t answer your question. “Should we dress up?”

He breathes out a laugh. “Am I allowed to go as a player for the Sendai Frogs?”

“Oh, God,” You groan, rolling your eyes. “Way to be cliche.”

“Fine. You pick the costumes, and I’ll buy them.” He pulls into your lot, right up to the permanent group of reporters that just sit outside your apartment all day. The flashing lights start almost immediately, and he leans over the middle console, stopping you from getting out of the car.

He tucks your hair behind your ear, and you already know that the photos being taken are capturing the line of hickies on your throat. He smirks when you give him a knowing look, only leaning in and pushing his lips against yours.

When he leans away, his gaze falls to your throat. He takes in the skin there, his thumb brushing over the already-purple marks. And then he meets your eyes, that dominant look from earlier peeking through again. Your breath catches when you see it, but he only narrows his eyes when he sees you searching his face. His thumb taps twice against your throat.

“Don’t cover these up.”

You swallow, brows furrowed. “Why?”

He leans in, planting another quick kiss on your mouth. “How about you go look in a mirror? Might help.”

You suppose that’s as close to an answer as you’re going to get tonight.

–

You start to realize that maybe Tsukki hadn’t been fucking with you. 

When you stare into your bathroom mirror every morning for the rest of the week, fixing your hair and clothes and makeup but leaving the skin on your throat untouched, you start to enjoy seeing the bruises there. These little reminders that it had been him that had put them there, that he had done this to you of his own free will. It makes you wonder if maybe he feels the same way when he sees them on you. 

You get the feeling he does. His eyes flick to the purple bruises when he picks you up on Wednesday and every day after – the corner of his lips tug up, like he’s smug that the evidence is still there. Like he’s glad to show you off, those marks on your skin more of a claim on you than most forms of PDA.

The photos of you go a little viral for a few hours that first day, with the accompanying mix of supportive and hateful comments.

[2:33 PM] tsukkiyn4life : LOOK AT HER!!! I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE !!!!!!

[3:04 PM] keisolostan :  god shes such an attention whore lmao, concealer exists girlie

[3:25 PM] sendaiynfan : no bc him marking his girl up like that is so tsukki-coded. bbygirls so lucky

[4:17 PM] tsukkisgirl : the way i would just pretend she doesnt exist if i saw that fine ass man in the wild

[4:29 PM] frogsfan101 : she cant even make hickies look good, jesus. so trashy

You’ve learned that you’re not strong enough yet to ignore how those tweets make you feel, so you keep your notifications off for the week. Unfortunately, Tsukki handles haters a little differently – he’s using his new media presence to retweet hateful comments with even worse responses, things along the lines of ‘ you seem like one of those girls who jumpscares guys when she takes her makeup off’ and ‘ is one of your parents absent, by chance? just wondering’ . 

Management’s not in love with him using his platform like this – because he’s been doing it from the very beginning – but it turns out that Tsukishima Kei fans are eating this particular incident up, his popularity skyrocketing with every new instance of brutally defending his girlfriend online. Fan accounts create Twitter threads of every heinous thing he’s ever said, and you even see that one of his responses is trending by Thursday afternoon–

‘ maybe put down the thirst account dedicated to my hands and go touch grass – my hands are a little busy with yn anyway :))’

He’d attached a photo that he’d taken on Tuesday morning in his car. Your bare legs are in the frame, the hem of your skirt barely visible. His hand is wrapped around your thigh, fingers kneading at your skin. Your manicured hand – seen in other photos this week – rests on his wrist, making it clear that it is indeed you.

Tsukki had made it his wallpaper, the time stamped across your knee in that photo he’d attached to the tweet.

You sit at the edge of your bed your face in your hands. You can’t tell if you want to kiss him or kill him. Your phone buzzes with an incoming call, and you lift it to your ear without looking.

“If you’re not Shimizu Kiyoko, please hang up.”

“ You cheating on me? ”

Your eyes fly open. “You stupid fucker.”

Tsukki laughs on the other end. “ So, you’ve seen my tweet, then .”

“Are you kidding me? Why did you make that your wallpaper? Why did you post it?” You groan, throwing yourself back on your bed. “That’s so embarrassing.”

“ Which part? Because I’m personally a fan. ”

“Yeah, of course you are. It’s not your thighs all over the internet right now.”

“ Well… ”

You roll your eyes. You’d forgotten about all the thirst accounts – his hands, his thighs, his shoulders, his eyes. There’s even an account solely dedicated to every time his shirt rises a little bit during a game. 

“Yeah, okay. Fine. You win. What do you want?”

His laugh sends a little shiver down your spine. “ Have you decided what we’re wearing on Saturday? ”

“Shit,” You breathe. “I forgot.”

“ Let’s decide now, then. I’ll order overnight shipping .”

You roll over, the embarrassment of Tsukki’s tweet still heating your cheeks but otherwise pushed aside. You pull up different costume websites, searching through their options and describing them to him.

“We could be ketchup and mustard bottles.”

“ Was that a serious suggestion? ”

“How about Beauty and the Beast ?”

“ I want you to turn on Facetime and say that again with a straight face. ”

It goes on for the better half of an hour, Tsukki shooting down every choice. In his defense, though, you are suggesting absurd couples’ costumes.

“ For fuck’s sake, Y/n, pick something normal! ” He finally snaps, amusement lacing in his voice.

You laugh loudly into your pillow. “I can’t find anything! The only normal couples’ costumes are all super sexy.”

“ Okay, good! Finally, fuck. That’s normal! ” He sighs loudly through the receiver. “ What do they have? ”

You scroll carefully through the images of sexy pairings, trying to find the least humiliating thing.

“Wow, this is terrible.”

“ Use your words, sweetheart, ” He taunts, and you’re glad he can’t see how your face warms.

“Sexy nurse and doctor,” You start, hearing him hum in contemplation. “Cat and dog-”

“ Christ ,” He mutters. “ That one’s bad. ”

“Butler and maid,” You continue. “Teacher and schoolgirl– Ew -”

“ Wait, wait, go back ,�� He interrupts. “ Butler and maid’s not bad .”

“Tsukki,” You laugh. “This skirt is so short that I can see the model’s ass cheeks.”

“ Send it to me. It can’t be that bad. ”

You text him the link, scrolling through other options while he opens the website.

“ Whoops, ” He says after a few minutes. Your heart stops, because you know that tone.

“What did you do?” You ask, groaning when he just laughs.

“ I accidentally bought it- ”

“Accident, my ass!”

“ Yes, definitely, ” He agrees. “ Definitely your ass – that much is true. ”

“Tsukki!” You complain. “You don’t even know my size!”

“ Yes, I do. ” He sounds mildly affronted. “ I pay attention. ” When you just bury your face in your pillow and sigh, he mutters a comment to himself. “ And I will certainly be paying attention to you in this outfit. ”

“I’m going to kill you.”

–

“I’m going to kill him.” You stare at yourself in the mirror on Friday night, wondering how much of a chance you have of getting out of this party.

The maid costume is as short as you’d predicted. To his credit, Tsukki had, in fact, known your size. But the skirt is so short that you can feel the cold air against your ass, even in the tiny shorts that had come with the outfit. It’s also snug around your tummy, the corset tight and pushing your breasts up until they start to spill out of the top a little bit.

You snatch your phone off the couch, Facetiming Tsukki with annoyance rising in your chest.

He’s at the Frogs’ gym when he answers, the screech of tennis shoes on the gym floor loud and the sound of Kyoutani and Koganegawa bickering even louder.

“ Hey-Woah- ” Tsukki’s eyes go wide when he sees the little maid’s bonnet on your head. “ Outfits came in, huh? ”

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” You say resolutely. You haven’t shown him the full dress, keeping the camera on your face. But you see his eyes drop to the lacy choker that peeks into the frame, interest lighting up his eyes.

“ Am I gonna need to be alone to see this? ” He asks, his gaze still on your throat.

“No fucking point in that, Tsukishima,” You snap, catching the flick of his eyes to yours before he drops them again. “The whole school’s gonna see my tits and ass tomorrow night, anyway.”

“ I’m sure you’re exaggerating, ” He says, but you can see him moving off to the side anyway, his back against the wall so no one can see what he’s looking at. “ Lemme see, princess .”

“Don’t you dare sweet-talk me, Kei. I’m upset with you.”

“ Yeah, I know. It’s kind of hot .”

“Tsukki!” You stomp your foot, knowing he’s heard it when he laughs.

“ Show me, damn it! I only have two more minutes of break! ”

You sigh in irritation, swallowing the nerves that have been building up and flipping the camera to show the mirror. 

“See? It’s too short, Tsukki.” You turn side to side slowly for a minute, wondering why he’s not responding. He just stares, eyes wide and flitting all around the screen. “Please say something,” You whisper, frowning at the mirror.

“ Don’t- ” He finally says, swallowing. “- pout at me like that .”

You frown harder. “Can we get something else?”

“ No, absolutely not, ” He laughs weakly. “ And I will pay you any amount of money to wear that on a regular basis. ”

“God, I want to kill you so much right now,” You sigh, turning to look at yourself in the mirror. “Look!” You point at where the skirt ends in the back, the little shorts peeking out. “Look at that! My whole ass is out!”

“ Oh, I’m looking ,” He says, nodding. “ Face forward again for me, princess. There’s something I wanna see there, too .”

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s talking about how your breasts sit in the dress. “Celibacy is not a good look on you, Tsukki-”

“ Don’t make me come over there, Y/n ,” He says, his voice distracted but clearly annoyed. You just laugh, hoping he can’t see the flush in your cheeks.

“What’re you gonna do, Tsukki? Come over and just look ?”

“ Why? Will you let me? ”

Your stomach flips, and you accidentally let out a high-pitched laugh, laced with nerves. “You’re stupid.”

He’s already smirking, seeing right through you. “ I wouldn’t mind taking a few pictures… ”

You shake your head furiously. “No way. Uh-uh. I don’t need this ending up on Twitter, too.”

“ You’re funny, thinking I’d ever let anyone see you like this. ”

“Hello?” You wave your arm in the mirror. “Party tomorrow? Whole school? Remember?”

“ It’ll be dark, and everyone will be drunk ,” He says, still staring at your chest. “ And you’ll be with me. No problem. ”

“I hate you.”

“ Yo, Tsukki- ” Kyoutani’s voice appears way too close to the phone, and you gasp, turning the camera away from the mirror. “ We gotta get back. ”

“ What? ” Tsukki presses the phone quickly to his chest, the screen only showing his white t-shirt. “ Okay. ”

There’s a silence, followed by Kyoutani’s suspicion. “... What’re you looking at? ”

“ Nothing. ”

“ Is that Y/n? ”

“No. Yes. Go away.”

“Holy shit, were those her nudes?”

You curl up on the couch, waiting for death to take you away.

“ No, you fucking idiot-”

“Tsukki’s looking at nudes! ” Kyoutani calls, his voice echoing throughout the gym. You groan, hearing their teammates start to clap and cheer, varied versions of ‘ let’s go, Tsukki! ’ audible through the phone.

“I’m gonna burn this dress,” You mutter, Tsukki’s face finally coming back into view.

“ Don’t even think about it. I’ll be there in an hour. ” He’s moving across the room, and the last thing you see before he hangs up is his hand coming down on the back of Kyoutani’s head.

–

By the time he gets to your apartment, you’ve already changed back into normal clothes, the dress laid out on your bed. He eyes it when you let him in, clearly interested.

“No chance of seeing it again tonight?”

“Not even a little one,” You say, unpacking the Chinese food he’d picked up. “And you better put that thought away, because I invited Kiyoko and Yamaguchi over.”

He groans dramatically, despite knowing fully well that this is always the plan on Friday nights. “How am I supposed to seduce you with them here?”

You shove a few cans of beer into his hands, waving him back to the living room. “You don’t. That’s why I invited them.”

Just on time, there’s a knock at your door. Tsukki lets them in with a loud sigh.

“You guys are interrupting my maid time.”

Kiyoko stands in the doorway, eyes on yours and disgust curling her lip. “Should we come back later?”

You laugh, beckoning them to the couch. “He’s mad about my costume for tomorrow.”

“God damn , Y/n!” Yamaguchi exclaims, seeing the outfit on your bed. “That might as well be lingerie.”

“Hey,” Tsukki says, snapping his fingers. “Only I get to look at the lingerie, you sick fuck.” He stands, shoving the dress away in your closet. Yamaguchi meets your eye with a grin as he takes the armchair.

“You two are nice and flirty tonight.”

Kiyoko takes the end of the couch, leaving you in the middle. “He’s in rare form,” She agrees, smirking knowingly. You just roll your eyes.

“I think he’s in heat or something. He needs to see a doctor.”

Tsukki throws himself down beside you, sighing. “Let’s talk about something else before I throw you two out so I can see it on her.”

Yamaguchi’s quick to choose a movie, and you spend the first ten minutes elbowing Kiyoko because she won’t stop snickering under her breath.

The night passes normally, the movie bad and the food good. The normal amount of laughter is shared, and the normal amount of drinking happens. There are no deviations from every other Friday night.

No deviations, that is, except for the hand that Tsukki slides between your blanket-hidden thighs sometime after his second beer. Your breath catches, and you have to feign a cough when Kiyoko glances at you in confusion.

You look up at Tsukki in alarm – his eyes are lidded and he’s staring at the TV like nothing’s out of place. But you know he knows exactly what he’s doing, because his fingers knead at the plush skin of your inner thigh, and his thumb traces delicate circles into your leg.

You wait until there’s a loud explosion on the screen to whisper up to him. “ What are you doing? ”

“ Nothing ,” He breathes. “ Just watch the movie. ”

You are unable to do anything of the sort, alcohol thrumming in your veins and your attention wholly captured by the drag of his fingertips against your skin. You shiver when his nails scratch gently at the underside of your thigh, and you hear him breathe out a quiet laugh. Your hand curls around his wrist when you feel his fingertips accidentally brush a little too high, a little too close to the hem of your shorts. 

“ I think you need to drink water ,” You mutter to him. He doesn’t respond, only finding the hem again. Your stomach fills with butterflies, because there’s no way to call that an accident, especially when he shifts his hand up and slips his fingers past the edge of your shorts. Your skin bursts out in goosebumps, and your other hand flies to his knee, his sweatpants curled up in your fist.

“ Tsukki, ” You hiss, spotting the smirk that pulls at the edge of his lips.

He squeezes your thigh one last time before drawing his hand away, and then he stands from the couch, mumbling to the group. “Gonna get water.”

Your heart races in your chest the entire time he’s gone, but you just scoot close to Kiyoko and lean your head on her shoulder. She glances down at you briefly, attention still on the terrible acting on the screen. 

“You good?”

“Yeah,” You breathe, swallowing hard. “All good.”

Your phone buzzes on the couch, and you glance at it subtly.

[10:52 PM]

Tsukki: come here.

Those butterflies in your navel explode, and your legs shake when you stand from the couch. “ Water ,” You mumble pathetically, all but stumbling around the corner.

He’s leaning against the counter, a cup of water in his hand and another sitting beside him on the granite. He says nothing while you reach for it, only keeping his eyes on yours. You swallow, the eye contact clouding your thoughts a little.

“Tsukki,” You whisper, pleading silently for him to explain what’s just happened. He just puts the cup down and turns, leaning in and trapping you against the corner of the counter. You stare up at him with wide eyes, clutching the cup to your chest.

“What, Y/n?” He sighs, refusing to look away. “What are you confused about?”

“Why you touched me-”

“No, sweetheart,” He laughs quietly. You can smell the alcohol on his breath. “I haven’t touched you yet. Not at all.”

Your face flushes, in full view for him to see, and you watch a smile form on his lips. You swallow hard, fighting to keep your wits about you. “You’ve had too much to drink.”

He levels you with a look of disbelief. “Two beers is hardly too much.”

“I-” Your eyes flick between his, trying to find something – anything – that will tell you what’s going on. 

But Tsukki just lets his gaze drop to your lips. You genuinely consider letting him kiss you.

Yamaguchi’s voice rings out from around the corner, full of amusement.

“ You two better not be fucking in there! ”

You jump, sloshing water on your shirt. Tsukki just takes a step back, watching you as you fumble to dry it, your face an unflattering crimson red. You leave the room when you’re done, not strong enough to meet his eyes.

You stumble back to the couch, nearly landing in Kiyoko’s lap when you throw yourself down. You can feel her looking at you, but you just hug her arm to your chest and hide your face in her shoulder, your water left unattended on the table. She says nothing, and Tsukki returns a moment later.

He sits a safe distance away for the rest of the night.

–

You sit in bed for hours the next morning, staring at the ceiling until it’s getting a little too close to the time that Yamaguchi said he’d pick you and Kiyoko up.

What are you supposed to do about Tsukki? Is he going to do that again? Is all the work you’ve put in to hide your attraction to him just going to crumble away? What’s going to happen if he figures out that he affects you the way he does? Is he going to laugh in your face, or will he reject you nicely? 

A quiet ding rings out next to your head. You jump, worried that it’s Yamaguchi saying he’s here already, and reach for your phone.

[11:09 AM]

Tsukki : stop thinking so hard about this

Your heart clenches, and you’re overwhelmed with a need to hear his voice. To figure this out now, before you go insane. 

You press call before you can think about it. He answers on the second ring.

“ Y/n? ”

“I don’t know how to stop thinking so hard,” You say, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and sitting there. “I’m not good at that.”

“ I know. You never have been. ”

“I just…” You chew on your bottom lip. “We had rules that I could follow. And now I don’t know what the rules are.”

“ No rules, Y/n. We don’t need rules. ”

“We do!” You cry, pulling your knees up to your chest. “We do, or else I’m going to get confused.”

“ What’s so confusing? ” He sounds frustrated. “ That I think you’re hot and want to put my hands on you? Or that you like when I do? Which part is confusing? ”

Your breath hitches. He… 

There’s no way he means what you think he means.

“Tsukki-”

“ Don’t fucking brush off what I just said ,” He snaps. “ Don’t do it. ”

You swallow. “I just… It’s just hard to believe.”

“ Look. ” He sighs roughly. “ You trust me, right? ”

“Yes. Obviously,” You rub at your brow, your head starting to hurt a little. “But I’m not your-”

“ Fuck who my type is, Y/n! It doesn’t matter! ”

“It does matter!” You say, growing overwhelmed. “It matters , Tsukki! What if I…” You sigh, giving up.

“ What if you what? Say it.” When you don’t, he finishes your sentence for you. “ What if you what , Y/n? What if you fall for me? ” 

“Yes.” You curl your fingers into your sheets, nerves flooding your system. “What if I fall for you, Tsukki? That’s a real possibility, and it’s stressing me out, because I don’t want to lose you.”

He’s silent for a moment, a moment where your whole world crashes down on you. You’ve said too much, then. You’ve said too much, and he’s trying to figure out how to let you down.

You whisper into the phone, trying to find some way to fix this. “Tsukki-”

“ Don’t, ” He snaps. “ Give me a second. I’m trying very hard not to pick a fight with you right now. ”

Your jaw drops. “What?”

“ Y/n, you’re so fucking- ” He sighs angrily. “ What is with you and thinking that it is just completely impossible that this could be reciprocated? ”

You stare down at nothing, speechless. His voice is sharp when he speaks.

“ I know you have body image issues, and that there are assholes everywhere making it worse. But you fucking suck at listening to me. I’m sitting here telling you I’m attracted to you, and you can’t be fucking bothered to hear me. ” He lets out a breath, and you wonder why it sounds kind of nervous. “ It is a real fucking possibility that I fall for you, too. I’m telling you to just trust me , Y/n. We will deal with whatever happens – whenever it happens – but I can’t keep doing this with you. You ignore the shit I say and act like I’m doing you a fucking service every time I breathe in your direction. Cut it the fuck out. ”

Your lip trembles, your eyes prickling with tears. “You’re kind of mean, you know that?”

“ Yes, I know that. And you’re kind of annoying. ”

“I know.”

He sighs on the other end. “ We don’t need rules, Y/n. If we keep going back and forth like this, we’re not gonna convince anyone we’re together. Stop fucking thinking so hard and just do what you want. ”

He’s right. You know he’s right. But it’s terrifying.

You don’t respond, just wiping your eyes pitifully.

“ Listen, ” He pauses, letting out a breath. There’s less heat in his voice now. “ I have to go. ”

“Oh,” You say, sitting up and peering into the kitchen for the time. “Shit, I didn’t mean to keep you.”

“ It’s fine. It was important. ” There’s a creak of a door on the other end, and then noise fills the receiver as he enters the next room, likely filled with his teammates. “ But… You’ll still be here, right? ”

“Of course,” You say weakly, standing. “But I gotta get ready in the next two minutes, or Yamaguchi will leave my ass behind.”

His laugh is quiet, and it eases your heart more than it should. “ Alright. Just… think about it.”

You stare down at your phone for a moment after he hangs up, still processing what’s just been done. What he’s just admitted to you.

And then Yamaguchi does text, and you forget all about these complicated feelings in your rush to get dressed. But, once you’re safely in the back seat and idly listening to Yamaguchi and Kiyoko ramble about nothing in particular, you get lost in your thoughts, coming to terms with everything he’d said.

You text him. Because he deserves an answer.

[11:42 AM]

You : meet me outside in ten?

He doesn’t respond, but he is standing outside when you and your friends arrive. He’s past the barricade, still being photographed but out of earshot and safe from the reporters’ questions. You rush up to him, seeing that Kiyoko is tugging Yamaguchi in the other direction, the freckled boy clearly confused about why he can’t say hi to his roommate. He seems to understand after a moment, his quiet ‘ Oh! ’ fading in the distance as Kiyoko pulls him inside.

You shake your head, turning back to Tsukki. He’s already looking at you expectantly, so you sigh and plant your hand on his chest, ignoring the camera flashes behind you.

“I thought about it,” You say, your voice quiet. He visibly perks up, shifting his weight and watching you carefully. “And… it’s going to take a lot of convincing, Tsukki.” When he furrows a brow, you swallow. “I just- There’s a lot that I won’t be able to believe right away. I’ve got my own shit, and all the negative attention doesn’t help. But I’m going to try, because I do trust you.”

He seems to realize where this is going – his eyes search your face, but you cut him off as he’s opening his mouth to speak.

“I’m going to try,” You repeat. “I’m going to try this without rules.” You watch as his face changes, not quite a smile but definitely pleased. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Because I know you’re right. And it’s not okay for me to keep doing this to you.” Your fingers curl into his shirt, and you sigh. “But, Tsukki, for fuck’s sake, if I fall for you and you don’t let me down nicely, I will fucking kill you.”

“God, I can’t wait to prove you wrong,” He laughs. “You’re fucking insane.”

You roll your eyes, using your grip to pull him down to you. His gaze drops to your lips, and you lean forward, closing the distance.

“ Good luck today ,” You whisper against his mouth. Both his hands cup your face, and you’re forced up onto your tiptoes as he rises to full height. The air is filled with the sound of camera shutters, but you just cling to the front of his uniform. He breaks the kiss for only a moment, and you whisper one last comment.

“And you better not be expecting me to put out tonight just because my costume’s skimpy.”

He lets out a surprised laugh, shaking his head as he kisses you again.

“Damn. Now I’m too distracted to play.”

–

“Does this look okay?” You ask, stepping out of the bathroom. Kiyoko’s touching up her hair in the mirror by the door, her nurse’s outfit and your maid’s outfit equally short. She eyes you in the reflection, and then her pigtails swing as she spins in place to face you.

“Wow. You look so slutty.”

You give her an exasperated look. “Do I? Are my tits out?”

“Incredibly out,” She says, staring at how they spill out of the corset. She gestures for you to turn in place, whistling low when she spots how short the skirt is. “Oh, yeah. Tsukki’s gonna love you in this.”

Your face heats. “ Yeah, I know, ” You mumble to yourself, but you know she’s heard it when you meet her eyes.

“Pardon?”

“I, uh-” You scratch at your nose. “-showed it to him already.” When she only lifts her brows in disbelief, you look away. “Yesterday. I tried it on and called him.”

“Jesus, Y/n,” She says, laughing. “You might as well just fuck him already.”

“No!” You cry, hiding your face in your hands. “Things are still the same! They’re just-” You smile lamely. “-a little blurry now.”

“Holy shit,” She says, stepping up to you. Her face is lit up with surprise. “You actually want to fuck him.”

“Hey! You can’t just put it like that!”

“Does he want to fuck you?”

“Kiyoko!”

“Oh, my God, he does!”

There’s a knock at the door, and you have to cover Kiyoko’s mouth with your hand so that Tsukki and Yamaguchi don’t hear her yell ‘ You guys are totally gonna fuck tonight! ’. 

When you yank the door open, Yamaguchi’s jaw drops.

“Holy-” He glances over your shoulder, seeing Kiyoko, too. “ Holy- ” He sputters. “You two look so fucking good!” He gestures down at himself, his zombie outfit not slutty in the least. “I look so bland now!” 

Kiyoko reaches for the side table in the living room, withdrawing a pair of scissors. She snaps them twice, staring down at Tadashi’s ripped, fake-blood-covered pants. “We can change that, if you want.”

The freckled boy eyes her with suspicion, but it grows quickly into excitement. “Is it bad that I wanna say yes?”

You laugh, pulling him into your apartment. “Go, Yamaguchi. Release your inner slut.”

He giggles, following Kiyoko to the bathroom, and you’re left with Tsukki. The door clicks shut behind you, the sound sending a shock of electricity down your spine. You turn in the foyer, finding him hovering over you. The tux for the butler’s outfit fits him perfectly, down to the tie and white silk gloves. His blond hair is gelled in a side-part, a single piece of hair falling between his eyes.

“Hi. You look nice,” You croak, still recovering from the conversation this morning. 

All throughout the game, you’d been struck, in waves, by the reality of what he’d said to you. That he’s attracted to you, that it’s okay for you to be attracted to him, too. You’d watched him move on the court – his brow furrowed, his eyes sharp, his blocks strong – and you’d been overwhelmed by just how attractive he is. Like there’d been some kind of wall there before, keeping you from experiencing the full extent of him, because you weren’t allowed to want him.

There, at the game, and even now, your body had been overrun by butterflies, their wings all beating in time and lingering deep in your skin. And there was an electric hum in your veins when he’d found your eyes at the game – the same hum that makes your skin feel alive right now, with him standing so close to you.

“Hi,” He says, stepping toward you and letting his eyes trail freely down the length of your body. From your little bonnet all the way down to the black, open-toe pumps on your feet, his gaze eats you up, those golden eyes hot on your skin. 

“Do I look okay?” You whisper, hearing Yamaguchi and Kiyoko’s laughter in the bathroom as she yells at him to stay still. The sound echoes in your apartment, but the air between you and Tsukki is so quiet.

He meets your eyes, his brows tenting in amusement. “What?”

“Do you…” Your eyes flick between his, open and vulnerable. “...think I look okay?”

He takes another step, forcing you back. Another, and then another, until your back’s pressed against the wall in your foyer. And then he leans down, flattening his hand against the wall by your head. You watch, barely breathing, as his eyes drop to your choker.

“I think,” He says, barely above a whisper. “You should ask me again at the party.”

You swallow, frowning slightly. “Why?”

When his eyes meet yours, that humming grows in your veins.

“Because,” He says, his smile teasing. “Our friends are in the next room.” His other hand reaches out, brushing your hair off of your bare shoulder. “And I don’t think they’d like what I have to say about you in this dress.”

Your breath is shallow and your eyes flutter shut, the heat of his body melting away your resolve. You nod, keeping your eyes closed for your own good. 

The bathroom door opens, and you draw in a breath of relief, prying your eyes open. Tsukki’s leaning against the opposite wall calmly, tilting his head to watch Yamaguchi come out of the bathroom behind you. 

“Look!” Tadashi giggles, strutting out to the living room. You turn, meeting Tsukki’s eyes shakily for a moment before redirecting your attention to the boy posing behind your couch. Kiyoko’s cut his pants into extremely short shorts, and his shirt’s been turned into a crop-top, some of the makeup from his pants smeared on his newly exposed skin.

You whistle appreciatively, applauding a proud Kiyoko. “Appropriately slutty. Ten out of ten.”

“Careful,” Tsukki mumbles while your friends collect their things to leave. “I’m feeling a little left out over here.”

You turn, taking his face in one of your hands and smiling mischievously. “You’re not allowed to join the Slut Party – I don’t want to have to rip anyone’s hair out tonight.”

He just smirks down at you, following the three of you out. 

The frat house where the party’s happening is only a few blocks from your apartment, so you decide to walk. The guys at the door claim to let you all in for free because of Tsukki, but you can feel their eyes on your ass as you pass by. When Tsukki looks decently annoyed by it, you just shrug up at him.

“No one told you to buy this for me-”

“ Tsukki! ” 

You turn to the sound, finding Kyoutani and Koganegawa leaving the pop-up bar in the corner of the main room. Kyoutani’s dressed as a doctor, and Koganegawa – predictably – is wearing his Frogs uniform. You shoot Tsukki a meaningful look, grinning when he mutters ‘ Yeah, alright. It’s cliche’ in your ear.

The four of you meet Tsukki’s teammates at the edge of the dance floor, Tsukki disappearing to get you both drinks. Kyoutani looks you over with appreciation.

“Damn, Y/n!” He yells over the music. “You really know what you’re doing with all that!” He gestures vaguely to your body, shrugging when Yamaguchi blatantly glares at him. “It’s a compliment!” 

You laugh, always a bit fond of Kyoutani’s blunt personality. “It’s good to see you, too, Ken,” You say, pointing at Kiyoko. “And you two match!”

It seems this is the first time he’s seeing the girl standing at your shoulder. You watch his eyes go wide as they trail down her body. 

“Oh-” He says, coughing slightly. “Hi. Wow.”

Kiyoko gives him a side-glance, always one for a little Cat-and-Mouse. “Hi.”

He recovers quickly, sidling up to her. “I’m Kentarou,” He says, smiling handsomely. But Kiyoko just lifts an unimpressed eyebrow.

“I know. We’ve met, like, eight times.”

He blinks, looking her over. And then his jaw drops. “Holy shit – Kiyoko?! ” He sputters, flushing when Yamaguchi laughs at him. “It’s just- You’re always- Holy shit.”

Kiyoko rolls her eyes and turns her back to him with a flick of her ponytail. But you can see the blush starting to dust over her cheeks, and her disinterested half-smile is starting to look a little too satisfied. You meet her eyes knowingly, and she nudges you.

“ Shut up ,” She mumbles. “ You’re the one that wants to sleep with your best friend .”

You bark out a laugh of disbelief, nudging her back. Yamaguchi throws his arms around both of you. 

“Can one of you please dance with me?” He yells over the music, already bouncing in place. “I want to be trashed and making out with a stranger by the end of the night!”

Kiyoko takes his hand and leads him to the middle of the dance floor, leaving you with a dumbstruck Kyoutani, and Koganegawa, who’s suspiciously quiet. 

Probably because he’s staring right at your chest, his lips parted in awe.

“Kanji,” You say, a little reprimanding. 

He swallows, meeting your eyes. “Hi. Sorry. Uh-” His eyes drop to the tops of your breasts again, watching how they swell over the top of your corset. “You-Hi.” He lifts his eyes to yours, realizing he’d been caught again. “Sorry-” And then he looks over your shoulder, his eyes going wide. “Uh-”

An arm slips around your waist, pulling you back against a chest. You look down, seeing the gloved hand that holds a red Solo cup full of liquid.

“Oh-” You look up at Tsukki, finding him staring at Koganegawa with thinly veiled irritation. “You got us drinks!”

He doesn’t respond, only handing you the drink in his other hand. His eyes narrow on his teammate’s, and Koganegawa blinks rapidly. 

“I-Oh-Are you two…” He lowers his voice. “I thought you weren’t-”

You put two fingers on his mouth, shutting him up. “Kanji!” You say, frowning at him.

He blushes, looking around to see who’s around. “Sorry… I’ll just-” He gestures vaguely behind him and wanders off. Kyoutani stares down at the arm Tsukki has around you and then flicks his gaze up over your head. His lips stretch in a knowing smirk.

“Interesting…” He says, looking between the two of you. And then he shoots you a downward smile, shrugging as he turns away. “Very interesting.”

You turn, Tsukki’s arm still tight around your waist. “You scared your friend off!”

He shrugs. “He was looking a little too hard.”

You pull him out to where your friends are, trying not to let him see you blush. But the butterflies in your stomach are already fluttering nervously, because you have no way to know how this night’s going to go.

–

“You should probably know,” You hiccup, giggling into Tsukki’s shoulder. “That it definitely looks like you’re keeping me in this corner whispering horny shit in my ear.”

Tsukki laughs, low and against your skin, his hand only pulling you closer to him.

You stand in a dark hallway on the edge of the main room, your hands curled into the front of his tux and his hands anchored on your waist. You can see the dance floor, but the lights are off and you’re more than a little bit drunk, so the room is a haze of bodies and loud, thumping bass. You can see some people glancing with interest at the two of you, but it’s easy to ignore. 

Your attention is more drawn to Yamaguchi whispering suggestively in the ear of Lev Haiba , of all people. You spy on your friend, ignoring the gentle brush of Tsukki’s lips against your throat.

“Well, I could start saying horny shit, if you’d like,” He mumbles, but you just pat him on the shoulder and point over to Yamaguchi.

“Is Tadashi about to bag a model? Look, look-” 

Tsukki glances over his shoulder, quickly returning to the task of nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “Is it possible to check in about that in the morning, maybe? I’m a little distrac-”

You gasp loudly, smacking Tsukki’s shoulder hard. “ Look , Tsukki!” 

He turns with a sigh, following your finger to where Kiyoko is being pressed up against the far wall by Kyoutani, his tongue halfway down her throat.

“Oh-” Tsukki mumbles, blinking to clear his drunken vision. “Damn, that’s kind of crazy.”

You giggle to yourself. “Oh, that bitch is gonna be hearing from me tomo- mm- ” 

Tsukki squeezes your cheeks between his fingers. “Hey. You’re not paying enough attention to me.”

You look up at him, eyes wide, and start to laugh. It’s difficult with the way he’s holding you. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you getting jealous?” You smile as wide as you can when he glares down at you. “What would make you feel better?”

He releases your face, wrapping his arms back around your waist and drawing you close to him again. “Ask me what I think of your outfit. I never answered you.”

You breathe in the alcohol on his tongue, your head swimming. “I think I know what you think of it.” You gesture down to where he’s playing with the edge of the skirt, his knuckles skimming against your thigh.

His lips brush against yours when he mumbles, “ Ask me .” 

You card your fingers through his hair, tilting your head up to kiss him. “ Okay ,” You whisper. “ What do you think of the dress, Tsukki? ” 

He dips his head, pushing his lips against yours and nipping softly at your bottom lip. “I think…” He glances down the hall, and you spot an open door a few feet away, hidden in the dark. “I think I wanna take you in there and show you.”

Your skin hums with that electricity he’s so damn good at spilling into your veins. 

“ So do it .”

His eyes sharpen at your words, and you’re hoisted up in an instant. You laugh loudly, wrapping your legs around his waist and burying your face in his neck while he carries you down the hall. The door shuts behind him when he brings you into the room, and the loud, pounding music is muffled significantly.

“Finally, some peace and quiet,” Tsukki sighs. You glance up, finding a bed against the wall and a small couch in the corner. He walks you over to the couch, and you’re not sure if you’re more glad or disappointed that he isn’t taking this too fast.

He takes a seat, forcing you to straddle his thighs as you look down at him. His grin is smug. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Thought I was gonna take you to bed?”

You smack him hard on the chest. “You look stupid when you’re arrogant.”

“Yeah, well, you’re here, aren’t you?” He cups the back of your neck, dragging you in. You kiss him eagerly, the alcohol giving you the courage to drop all your pretenses. He seems to be in a similar situation, because his hands are latching onto your hips and pulling you down onto his lap. You sigh at the feeling of his thighs under yours, the difference between his sculpted ones and your soft ones almost heavenly.

“‘m not too heavy, right?” You mumble, unable to help yourself. He just shakes his head, his fingers tangling in your hair.

“Not heavy enough, in my opinion,” He breathes. His mouth drops to your throat as he mutters distractedly. “Sit down properly, princess.”

You let your thighs slide open, Tsukki’s mouth curling in a grin against your skin when he feels you get comfortable in your new seat.

“See?” He sucks hard on the junction of your neck. “Maybe if you’d just listen to me sometimes, we could be doing this more often.”

“Shut up, Tsukishima,” You murmur, distracted by the drag of his tongue over that burning spot on your throat.

“Fuck-” Tsukki nibbles another bruise into your skin. “Love when you do that.” His free hand digs into your hip, fingers fanning out.

“Love when I do what?” You sigh, letting your head falling to the side a little to give him more access. When his hand slides down over your ass, his hips rocking up gently as he kneads at your skin, you breathe out a quiet moan.

He shifts his hips again. “When you say my name like that. Like you’re scolding me.” He uses the hand he has on your ass to roll your hips in, his own meeting you halfway. A groan falls past his lips when you moan, your name murmured into the column of your throat.

“You like when I scold you?” You laugh weakly, your whole body humming and the electricity flowing straight to the place where your core bumps against the growing bulge in his slacks. “Didn’t know you were into that kind of thing, Tsukki.”

He laughs, and it sends a jolt of desire to the spot below your navel. You roll your hips on your own, heart stopping when he whispers ‘ fuck’ against your ear. 

“Just think it’s cute,” He says, breathless. “Always sounds like you think you’re in charge.”

So that’s what that’s about.

“I usually am,” You argue, carding your fingers through his hair and messing it up. You smile when your nails scratch against his scalp, because he shivers and tightens his grip on your hips. “I usually am in charge,” You say again when he meets your eyes, his own half-lidded.

He just grins, his other hand coming down to your waist. “Yeah?” 

You feel his fingers dig into your skin, and then he’s dragging your hips against his, once and then twice. You drop your hands to his shoulders, gasping when he rocks his own hips up. He’s hard now, the slide of his hips against your core pure torture.

“How ‘bout now, sweetheart?” He teases, even though his breath catches in his throat when he rocks up against you a third time. “Still think you’re in charge?”

You press your forehead against his, your muscles weak. “This isn’t fair. This doesn’t count-”

“God, look at your pretty little doe eyes,” He says, keeping his eyes locked on yours. “Makes me wanna give you anything you ask for.”

Trembling, you struggle to keep eye contact. “Like it when you look at me,” You whisper, watching his eyes light up. “Makes it hard to focus.”

“Yeah?” His smile is smug, satisfied. “‘s unfortunate, baby – I really like looking at you.”

Your breath is sharp in your chest, your head drowning in vodka and the feeling of Tsukishima Kei. 

“ Tsukki ,” You whine, begging – for what, you have no clue. But he groans, hearing exactly what you’re asking for.

“Don’t say my name like that, Y/n,” He warns. “Or I’ll take you to that bed and make you say it again.”

You whimper, your arms shaking when he slides against you in a way that sets your core on fire. “ Fuck- ” You whine when he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you in. His mouth is searing hot on yours, his tongue pushing past your lips. You moan into his mouth, your heart beating in places you’ve never felt with him before.

Before you can tell him that you’re thinking of letting him take you to bed, the door slams open and a giggling couple stumbles into the room.

You gasp, jumping off of Tsukki and landing in the spot next to him on the couch.

The girl that had been pulled into the room is the first to realize there are other people here.

“Oh, fuck-” She pulls away from the guy, squinting. “Oh, holy shit. Tsukishima Kei?”

Tsukki sighs, unheard as the guy spins on his heel and exclaims loudly.

“Woah! Holy shit, it’s you!” 

“Unfortunately,” Tsukki mumbles, but the guy just narrows his eyes at you, taking you in properly. And then he laughs, chortling as he gestures to you.

“Wow, nice outfit.” It’s clearly not a compliment. “You look just like you do in the photos.”

“That’s usually the point,” You say weakly. You can feel Tsukki tense next to you.

The guy approaches you, squinting in the dark. His eyes scan your bare legs and the length of your skirt. Tsukki flattens his hand over where your thighs meet, because your shorts have ridden up significantly and there’s too much showing now. 

“Do you mind backing the fuck away from my girlfriend?” He says, his tone clearer than it’s been all night.

“Tsukki,” You reprimand quietly, trying to fix your dress. The girl tries pulling the guy away, but he’s got his eyes on your chest.

“Damn, you got quite the rack on you.” He laughs when your face morphs into a scowl. “Too bad it’s attached to the rest of you.”

He’s just far enough that when Tsukki stands, he’s able to scamper back toward the door.

“Say it again,” Tsukki says, his presence towering over everyone in the room. “Say it again, and see what I do to you.” 

“Tsukki!” You stand, reaching for him. “Cut it out. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, Tsukki ,” The guy mocks, laughing as he steps out into the hall. “Learn to take a joke. Other than your girlfriend, that is-” He cackles, dodging Tsukki’s advances and hurrying out to the crowded main room.

Tsukki follows, likely with every intent to cause harm, but you’re quick to latch onto his arm.

“ Stop it, ” You hiss, pulling him back to you. You barely manage to get him to look at you, and you just gesture around the room when he does. “Look where he brought you. Pay attention, you idiot.”

Tsukki flicks his eyes around, seeing that the guy is causing a ruckus and drawing attention to the two of you.

“What’s wrong, Tsukki ?” He asks, giggling drunkenly. “Gonna let your bitch decide what you do?”

Tsukki tenses, turning toward him, but you pull him back. 

“Look at me,” You say sharply. He meets your eyes, and you shake your head. “Don’t fucking do it.”

“Aw, come on, Tsukki,” The guy says, dancing around the edge of the dance floor and pulling more eyes to the scene. “Give us a show, since you and your girl love the attention so much!” He sneers at you. “Show us how you got those hickies, darling.”

“Please let me punch him,” Tsukki mumbles to you, but you just shake your head. “Just one little punch. It would be so quick, no one would be able to film it.”

“Let’s go home,” You say. When he makes no move to leave, only shifting his eyes to the guy that’s clearly trying to get him to pick a fight, you tug on his sleeve. “Please?”

“Look at the happy couple, everyone! Our star rookie and his whale of a girlfriend, dressed like a whore-”

Tsukki sighs heatedly, and you wonder for a moment if he’s going to go through with it, but he just snatches up your hand, dragging you in the opposite direction.

“Thank you,” You whisper, nearly jogging behind him as he takes full strides to the door. There’s a yank on the skirt of your dress, and you yelp, stumbling back. When you turn, the guy’s grinning down at you, his fingers tugging on the fabric.

“Since you wanna wear something so small, let’s show everyone what’s underneath-” 

He’s shoved to the side, his body slamming into the wall on your right and slumping to the floor.  You gasp, thinking for a moment that the blond head flying past your face is Tsukki, but you realize that it’s Kyoutani when you see the streaks of dyed hair on his temple.

“Since you wanna put your hands on women, you won’t mind me putting mine on you, right?” He says, grinning cruelly. He’s about to reach out for him again, but Kiyoko’s pushing past him, her nurse’s cap falling off her head when she kicks the guy on the floor with all her might.

“Touch her again and see if I don’t kick your fucking teeth in-” She hisses, drawing her foot back. You gape at her, much like Kyoutani is, but his expression’s a little more lovestruck. It’s Yamaguchi that breaks through the group next, his arms belting around Kiyoko’s middle.

“Alright, you fucking menace, let’s not go to jail tonight!” He giggles, dragging her thrashing body back a few feet. He looks at Kyoutani in the struggle. “You gotta go, too. Doesn’t look good,” He says brightly, and the blond nods dumbly, still watching Kiyoko with hearts in his eyes.

You start to move to them, hating that your friends have gotten caught up in this, but Tsukki slides his arm around your waist and lifts you clean off your feet, hauling you through the door and out to the street.

“Wh-Tsukki!” You protest. “We have to go get them!”

“No, we don’t. Kiyoko’s got it covered,” He says with finality, setting you down and pulling you through the sea of reporters. They start to follow, but he turns sharply, side-stepping to put you behind him.

“Look,” He says to them. “I know you want to follow us, but could you maybe not tonight? I kinda just want to walk my girlfriend home, okay?”

The group of paparazzi just stand there, unused to Tsukishima Kei handling his annoyances with such diplomacy. He lets out a sigh and spins on his heel, taking your hand and pulling you quickly down to the street.

You stumble after him, glancing back periodically. “You think they’re actually gonna leave us alone?”

“Probably for, like, three more minutes. Walk faster.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

The walk home is silent, and you can feel his anger in the way he hunches his shoulders close to his ears and sighs at every crosswalk.

“Tsukki,” You say after a few blocks, knowing he’s holding it in. “Talk to me-”

He whirls around, forcing you to skid to a stop. “Why didn’t you let me hit him, Y/n?”

Your jaw drops, and you let out a breath of disbelief. “Tsukki, he was baiting you-”

“I don’t care. ” He steps close to you. “Do you realize how much it killed me to listen to the shit he said to you? He never would have touched you if I’d had my way.”

“Yeah, he was clearly looking for that reaction,” You reason. “With the reputation you have, he was obviously trying to rile you up so that he could get a look at the real Tsukishima Kei-” You scoff, gesturing to him. “People want to see you lose it, Tsukki.”

“Well, I almost did!” He snaps, and you set your hands on his chest to calm him down. It doesn’t work very well. “He put his fucking hands on you-”

“Tsukki, I’m fine . Look at me.” You gesture down at yourself, even grabbing his hands and setting them on your waist. “See? Look. I’m okay. Nothing’s wrong.”

He stares down at you. This seems to get his attention more, having his hands on you. You smile up at him. 

“I’m okay. I promise.”

He just blinks, and you know he’s not ready to accept it. Sighing, you point down the street, only two blocks away from your apartment.

“Can we go home, please? I think those reporters are probably catching up to us.”

He holds your hand tight the whole way there.

–

“You can’t let people get to you like that, Tsukki,” You say, sighing. 

You’ve just finished taking off all your makeup and changing into clothes that actually cover your body. Tsukki’s on the couch in sweats and a t-shirt, his tux crumpled on the floor and his hair mussed up and falling into his eyes. The air between you had been silent the rest of the way home and while you were getting changed. You can tell he’s calmed down a little, but he still sighs when you speak.

“I feel like it would have been warranted,” He says, shooting you a joking smirk over the back of the couch. You stand in the doorway of the bathroom, a hand on your hip.

“The whole reason we’re doing this is so that I can fix you,” You say, moving into the kitchen to get you both water. “You gonna let me fix you or not?”

“The shit he said to you was not okay, Y/n.” He shakes his head, scrolling through Twitter. You take a seat next to him, seeing that he’s looking through footage from the party.

“I know. It wasn’t fun. But you still can’t pick fights like that,” You say, running your fingers through his hair and leaning into his side. “You have too much on the line right now.”

He doesn’t say anything, just scrolling through the tweets. There’s a video of him taking a few steps toward the guy that’s laughing, but the camera catches the way you pull on his arm and bring him back to you. Tsukki’s eyes meet yours, and you can see his shoulders slump with defeat, his eyes searching your face. What you say to him is inaudible in the video, but it’s clear that his body language shifts when he looks at you.

The next video is the one of him carrying you out of the frat house. The camera catches the way you gape at Kiyoko’s anger, the way your brow furrows with concern as you start to move to her. It also catches the moment that Tsukki reaches for you, his frown deep and his arms sliding tight around your middle. You’re lifted off your feet, and you look up at him with surprise, your eyes wide and vulnerable.

The video after is the one of him facing the reporters, essentially asking in his nicest voice that they fuck off for once. His eyes are hard, swimming with anger, and his jaw is clenched, but his words are polite and his body shields you purposely. 

It’s weird, seeing the moments that you’ve experienced from someone else’s point of view. But, for once, you’re glad people are seeing your life with him play out – even those who were so against you from the beginning.

[10:57 PM] tsukkiyn4life :   dude was WAY out of line. yn looks smoking hot and tsukkis fighting literal demons not to put bro in the hospital but HE LISTENS TO HIS GIRL!!! GREEN FLAG!!!

[10:59 PM] numberonekei : okay even ill admit yn was on it with this one. he woulda been fucked if he’d gotten into another fight

[11:05 PM] TsukkiYnShipper : the CHOKEHOLD she must have on that man to get him to back down…. tsukishima kei is down horrendously bad

[11:07 PM] keisolostan : bro the way he talked to those reporters? who are you and what have you done with tsukishima kei

You give Tsukki a meaningful look. “Got anything to say?”

He feigns innocence. “Hospital bills are expensive, anyway?”

“Tsukki-”

“Okay, fine-” He laughs, throwing his phone down. “You were right – there. You were right. You are singlehandedly fixing the Sendai Frogs’ problem child.”

You shrug, your smile satisfied. “All in a day’s work, really. Next thing you know, you’ll be smiling at babies and petting dogs and shit.”

“You’re so stupid,” He snorts, shaking his head. And then he sighs, exhausted. “That was an extreme exercise is self-control.”

“But you did so well,” You say, cupping his face and planting a messy kiss on his cheek. “‘m proud of you.”

“Sorry, princess – I’m not much a praise kink guy,” He jokes, but you can see the flush spread across his cheeks and ears. “I’m more into punishment.”

You give a nervous laugh. “Oh, so that’s what you meant when you said cute girls can’t handle you.”

“Oh?” He says, meeting your eyes with interest. “You remember that, huh? Been thinking about it?” His lips pull into a wide, satisfied smile when you purse your lips in embarrassment. But he doesn’t push it, only sighing quietly and looking away. “I suppose I should go.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. There’s a part of you that doesn’t want him to leave, and it’s not the part you’re expecting. Even after what the two of you had done tonight, and even after the things you’d said to each other on that couch in that room, that’s not what comes to mind when you think about him staying.

You just don’t want him to go. You want him to stay. You want to keep looking at him and touching his face and listening to his stupid laugh. And, although that’s terrifying to realize, it’s what you what.

And he’d told you to do what you want.

“You don’t… have to…” You whisper finally, just as he’s starting to sit up.

His eyes find yours, and there’s a painful silence that follows. He blinks, and you blink back.

“I don’t have to… what?” He asks, although it’s clear by the way his eyes search your face with surprise that he knows exactly what you’re saying.

“Go.” You let out a shaky breath. “You don’t have to go.”

Tsukishima Kei has never stayed the night before – not alone and certainly not in the way you’re implying.

He glances over the back of the couch in the general direction of your tiny bed before looking back to you, a blush dusting over his cheeks. He goes for the safest assumption, swallowing hard. “Uh… Your couch isn’t exactly the most comfortable… thing…”

“Yeah,” You say, laughing as you stare down at your lap. “My bed’s probably not that comfortable either… for… more than just me…” You don’t dare to meet his eyes again, just tugging at a stray piece of string sticking out of your pajama shorts. When he doesn’t respond, you start to sweat. “You don’t have to stay. You can just-”

He stands abruptly, and your head flies up to watch him. He crosses the distance to your bed and throws himself under the covers, his feet sticking out at the bottom.

“Turn the lights off on your way,” He mumbles, tossing his glasses and phone on the nightstand. And then he rolls over, facing the wall.

You stare for a moment, only managing a shocked laugh as you stand and kill the lights in the living room and kitchen. You make your way to him in the dark, your heartbeat thrumming in your throat and your legs a little shaky. When you slide under the blanket, Tsukki scoots further, pressing himself against the wall to give you room. You struggle to fit on the bed with your back turned to him, half of your body hanging off the edge, but you refuse to move, just praying that you’ll fall asleep soon.

Tsukki’s head shifts a little after a moment. “Are you comfortable?” He whispers in the dark.

“Mhm,” You say. “I’m good.”

He only snickers, turning in place. “Liar.” There’s an arm sliding around your waist, and then you’re dragged across the mattress until your back presses to his chest. Your eyes go wide, staring at nothing as you feel him mold his body against yours, his face burying into the back of your neck.

“Better?” He murmurs, breath fanning out over your skin. He sounds nervous.

“I think this is worse,” You joke weakly, but you do your best to relax back into him.

You feel his smile against your neck. “‘s not so bad…” And then he presses his forehead to your shoulder, and you feel heat radiating off of his face. “Not bad,” He repeats with a sigh.

“No,” You whisper. “Not bad.”

His hand finds yours in the dark, just before you drift off to sleep.

–

You wake the next morning to a mouth full of blond hair. 

Sputtering quietly, you brush it away from you, realizing in the process that the weight on your chest is Tsukki’s head. He’s splayed out on his stomach, one of his knees tucked between yours and an arm draped over your hips, his hand dangling over the edge of the bed.

You stare down at him, running your fingers through his hair very carefully. You scratch your nails against his scalp, smiling when he sighs and shifts closer. His face looks so peaceful like this, you realize – his brows aren’t furrowed and his shoulders aren’t tense.

You haven’t seen him like this in years.

Before you can read into it too much, your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You reach for it, careful not to jostle him.

[9:04 AM]

Kiyoko : i feel like i just got hit by a truck

Kiyoko : that dragged me 7 blocks before realizing i was there

You snort, typing a response with one hand.

You : are you home/alone

Kiyoko : doors unlocked

You do your best to slide out from under Tsukki, going so far as pressing your lips to the crest of his eyebrows when he starts to frown. He relaxes, rolling over and going back to sleep instantly. Quietly, you tiptoe to the kitchen and retrieve two cans of iced coffee from the fridge before slipping out the door.

Kiyoko’s in bed when you sneak into her apartment. She sits up when you take your shoes off, grinning guiltily as you stop short.

“You slutty little nurse,” You say, staring at her. Her hair’s tangled and her pajamas are only half-on, but the real clue that she’d had an overnight guest is the mass of hickies decorating her throat and chest.

She rolls her eyes, beckoning you to bed. You eye it suspiciously. 

“Are the sheets clean…?”

She laughs. “Yes, you ass. I changed them before I texted you.”

You shrug, hopping into bed with her and handing her a coffee. “So? What happened after I left?”

“Kentarou walked me to my door like a respectable gentleman,” She says, sipping loudly and looking away. You just stare, waiting her out. She finally meets your eyes again, giggling.

“And then ?” You ask impatiently.

“And then…” She shrugs one marked-up shoulder. “He fucked me like an animal.”

You squeal, smacking her arm over and over again while she laughs.

“Oh, my God, Kiyoko,” You wheeze, beaming at her. “I’ve never been more proud to be your friend. Wait-” You point at the door. “Did you just make that man do the walk of shame?”

“No, of course not!” She says, leaning her back against the headboard. “Obviously, I… thanked him for his services.” She endures another round of your smacking before saying, “He’s taking me out for dinner tomorrow. Said he’d pick me up from campus and everything.”

You nudge her, grinning wide. “Look at you! Dating a pro volleyball player.”

“Maybe you can give me some tips,” She jokes, finishing off her coffee.

“He’s not pro yet,” You say, rolling your eyes. “Hopefully, he’ll make it to the end of the year without starting shit.”

Her hand pauses halfway from her mouth, the empty can hanging in her hold while she examines you. You furrow a brow.

“What?”

“I was…” She squints now. “...kidding.” You blanche, staring at her while her eyes narrow further. “You know… because you’re not actually dating?”

“Right,” You say, smiling. “I know. I was just…”

“Y/n,” She says, lowering her finished drink and gaping at you. “Are you two actually dating ?”

“No!” You say, putting your coffee down on her nightstand so you can face her. “No, we’re not. It’s like I said – we’re just not really labeling anything.”

“Not labeling-” She shakes her head. “That’s a terrible idea. That’s such a slippery slope-”

“I know! We just… We know. We’re just taking it one day at a time.” You shrug. “That’s all I’ve got, honestly. Nothing else has happened.”

As if summoned by some demonic force, your phone buzzes on the bed between you.

[9:28 AM]

Tsukki : you know

Tsukki : usually it’s ME that sneaks out the morning after

Tsukki : im the sneaker

Tsukki : not the sneak-ee

Kiyoko snatches your phone up before you can, blinking hard to make sure she’s reading that right.

“You fucked him !” She yells, smacking your arm when you take your phone back.

“No! I didn’t! We just slept!” 

“Do you think I was born yesterday, young lady-”

“I swear!” You laugh, bracing for her second smack. “All we did was sleep, I swear!”

She stares, clearly disturbed. “You’ve never done that before. Sleepovers.”

You shake your head with a tight smile. “Nope. First time.”

“And all you did was sleep.”

“All we did was sleep.”

She scans you a moment longer before leaning in, as though you’re not the only people in the room. “Did you catch feelings?”

“No!” You reel back, pushing her away lightly.

“Y/n, that’s not good-”

“I didn’t !” You swallow hard, trying to push down the memory of wanting him to stay the night. Of waking up this morning with him in your arms. “I didn’t catch feelings. It was just late, and we were just tired.”

She looks like she certainly has more to say, but she thankfully drops it, only pointing at your phone. “Answer him, before he starts calling.”

His name pops up on your screen with an incoming call the second she says it.

You only hesitate a moment, meeting her eyes with an uneasy smile before pressing it to your ear. “Hello?”

You don’t fight when Kiyoko drags your arm away from your face and aggressively jabs at the button to activate the speakerphone.

“ You left, ” Tsukki says groggily, his voice echoing in Kiyoko’s apartment. “ That’s fucked up. ”

“I didn’t leave. I’m at Kiyoko’s.”

“ Oh. I guess that’s fine. Can you steal some coffee? ”

Kiyoko just rolls her eyes but keeps quiet.

“I’ll see what I can do,” You say. And then you clear your throat. “What’s the plan today?”

“ Dunno. Wanna get breakfast? ”

You push Kiyoko away when she stares at you meaningfully. “Don’t you have practice today?”

“ Mm, ” He groans, stretching and yawning loudly. “ ‘s later. I feel pretty good today. ”

“Oh-” You stare down at your phone, your brows furrowing. “Really? My bed’s not really built for two.”

“ I know, I’m surprised, too. But that’s the best I’ve slept in ages. ”

Your heart jumps, and you don’t have it in you to push Kiyoko away again when she stares right into your soul. 

“Oh. I-That’s good. You should get a shitty Twin XL bed, too, then.”

He laughs low, the sound deep and satisfied. You blush when Kiyoko curls her lip in disgust – she’s never heard that laugh before, then.

“ I could do that, yeah, ” He says, shifting in bed. “ Or I could just keep sleeping in yours.”

You’re really not getting out of this one. Kiyoko’s deadpan stare burns a hole through your face. Your cheeks warm to the point of discomfort, and you pick at a piece of lint on her blanket. 

“Yeah… I suppose you could.”

He’s quiet on the other end for a moment. “ Okay, ” He says, his voice a little uncertain. “ That’s that, then. ”

“That’s that.”

“ Bring coffee? ”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“ See ya. ”

The apartment is dead silent after he hangs up. You nervously search Kiyoko’s blanket for more lint, feeling her eyes on your face.

“Do you like him, Y/n?” She says after a moment.

You just stare at your hands. “Dunno.”

“Do you realize that it sounds like he likes you?”

“I don’t know about that.”

She sighs, pulling you into her arms and planting a kiss on your temple. “So beautiful, yet so stupid. And blind. Stupid, blind, beautiful-”

“Okay, you made your point.”

–

By the time you return to your apartment, Tsukki’s washed up and sitting expectantly in bed, his back against the headboard as he taps away on his phone. He scans you when you come in.

“No coffee?”

You snort, joining him in bed. He shifts, eyeing you nervously for a moment before leaving one hand flat on the mattress and angling his body toward you. It’s clearly an invitation. 

You just meet his eyes, your heartbeat suddenly strong in your chest.

And then you scoot toward him, curling up beside him and letting your knees fall over his thigh. His hand slides around your waist, pulling you comfortably against him.

“Are you sure you slept okay?” You ask, your voice cracking when you feel his thumb drawing circles in your skin. 

He nods, eyes dropping to your mouth. “Wasn’t too uncomfortable for you?”

“No,” You laugh. “It was, uhm…” You trail off, feeling when he leans in. His lips are warm against yours, and you feel abnormally at ease, wrapped up in his arms like this. You card your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp and shivering when his other hand slides along the outside of your thigh, kneading gently. 

“ You fucking liar ,” He whispers against your mouth. “ You taste like coffee. ”

You throw your head back, laughing. “I’m sorry! I grabbed some from the fridge before I went up.” And then you kiss him again before you lose your courage. “I’ll buy you coffee while we’re out.”

“My girl’s such a provider,” He says, grinning when you smack him on the shoulder. You try not to let the words ‘ my girl ’ affect you too much.

“Do you want coffee or not?”

He nods, pulling you in for one more kiss before murmuring ‘ Sounds good ’ against your mouth. 

You have to peel yourself out of his arms, the danger of staying in bed all day with him too high.

The two of you walk to breakfast, hand in hand, and then you see him off when it’s time for practice. He comes back after, dinner in hand, and you both work on assignments with trashy TV playing in the background.

He stays the night again. And again. And again.

He stays until Christmas.

[pikachic]

New Malevolent ocs just dropped-

Love these girls :D

More lore under the cut!

Evelyn’s family has known the Yangs since Evelyn was a toddler

She’s an only child who was quite lonely, and immediately glommed onto the Yang siblings when she met them

Parker used to call her Lyn

She works at a garment factory in New York and sends money home every other week- her parents had very high expectations for her as a child

She grew up feeling like she was going crazy because of her supernatural sixth sense - right up until she was about fourteen, when it saved her life

She learned some fighting stuff from Parker and isn’t afraid to fight dirty

Evelyn genuinely believed that Arthur intentionally murdered Parker until she ran into him during the Season 4 Butcher arc

She spotted Arthur in New York and eventually tracked him to Daniel’s house.

Then the Butcher showed up

She ends up helping get Daniel to the hospital which is where she meets Jarthur face to face

Evelyn recognizes Arthur, but John doesn’t recognize her, and Arthur eventually only recognizes her by her voice and Evelyn rather pointedly jogging his memory (He met her a few times when the Yangs invited him over for dinner)

She kind of sits in on the conversation that Arthur has with Noel after the Butcher gets arrested. She’s more inclined to believe him when Arthur says he killed Parker by accident and that supernatural forces were involved because she has experience with the supernatural thanks to her sixth sense and she can sense that something about Arthur has been changed/scarred

She’s still very upset at him, especially because she’s witnessed firsthand the effect that Parker’s death and the idea that he was killed by someone he considered a friend had on the Yangs

But there’s now some semblance of closure, and somewhere else to direct her own feelings about the matter

Now she mostly goes about her life while hunting monsters and the occasional cult whenever she runs into them

Charlotte had wanted to be an actress ever since she was a child but didn’t think that it would happen

She found the KIY because someone got her a role in a production of the play and got involved in the ensuing supernatural cult stuff

She basically does cult PR

She adores theatrics and likes playing the role of a femme fatale/magnificent bastard type character who is always in control

Charlotte calls Evelyn "little mouse," both because Evelyn is a "pest" and because she acknowledges Evelyn as a worthy opponent (in Chinese culture, mice are associated with cunning and intelligence)

She doesn’t have any close friends inside or outside the cult bc she doesn’t really know how to be honest or open with anyone - she always ends up just playing a part or just compelling people to do what she wants

Her interactions/nemesis relationship with Evelyn is probably the closest thing to a real relationship that she has

Charlotte’s thoughts on Evelyn are “I’ve never met anyone who could resist me in this way and who I didn’t feel like I needed to pretend as much around so only I get to defeat/kill/convert you” and Evelyn’s thoughts on Charlotte are “You’re part of the thing that killed my brother figure and countless other people so I’m going to deal with you - the fact that you’re weirdly good at pushing all my buttons at once is completely irrelevant (lying)”

(Did somebody say TOXIC YURI-)

Evelyn is secretly jealous of Charlotte’s sense of personal freedom and accomplishment, while Charlotte is jealous of how strong and genuine Evelyn’s personality and emotions are