#�� *:･ﾟ✧ writing ╱ everything you know is about to change .

[yuujispinkhair]

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 12

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 6k Warnings: 18+, smut, cigarettes, alcohol. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 15 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

When Sukuna and you enter the university holding hands, you know the news will spread fast. You can't help but wonder what kind of gossip people will share about the two of you. After all, Sukuna isn't just anybody but the star player of the most successful ice hockey team this college has had in many decades. And on top of that, he is infamous for being the guy who doesn't date.

Well, things have changed.

You smile softly as you lean into Sukuna's side, resting your head against his buff biceps and feeling his large hand give yours a reassuring squeeze. He is acting his usual self, strutting down this hallway as if he owns it, head held high, arrogant smirk perfectly in place, fixing the people around you with a condescending stare.

But he doesn't even try to keep your new relationship low-key or hide it from the public eye. It makes your stomach flutter as you stroll down the hallway and Sukuna never lets go of your hand. You reach your classroom and Sukuna grins his most charming grin before he leans down to kiss you on the lips, right there in the middle of the hallway for everyone to see.

It's a lingering, slow kiss, leaving no doubt about what it means. Sukuna's large tattooed hand cups your cheek, tilting your head so he can deepen the kiss, flicking his tongue teasingly against yours before he slowly pulls away with that typical sexy smirk on his handsome face,

"Have fun in class, princess. And don't forget your lunch date with your boyfriend."

He grins at you, the tip of his tongue playing with one of his sharp canines as he watches you with an amused but also intense look.

Boyfriend.

Hearing Sukuna say that word makes your tummy fill with butterflies. A breathless chuckle escapes your lips,

"As if I would ever forget my boyfriend. But just to make sure, why don't you pick your girlfriend up from class?"

You grin up at Sukuna with a racing heart, delighted to see his Adam's apple bob and his long lashes flutter for a moment. You don't seem to be the only one who gets flustered by the use of that new name.

Sukuna's large hand lands on your head, ruffling your hair, before he finally pulls away with a wink and tells you to hurry up so your professor won't have a reason to berate you today.

You have your little lunch date a few hours later, sitting at your usual table, Sukuna's table, eating and chatting about Sukuna's upcoming game and your creative writing class.

Things feel like they always do. There is no big change in the way you act around each other. The two of you follow the same routine you already developed gradually during the last few months since Sukuna came into your life.

It makes you realize just how natural it has already become to be by Sukuna's side almost all the time. Even before you got together, you already met on campus every morning, chatting and joking around while Sukuna walked you to your classes, carrying your heavy books and ruffling your hair. You already went to lunch together all the time, and later on, met in the library to study and eat the snacks Sukuna prepared, your hands brushing over each other when you reached into the snack box at the same time.

Everything is still the same, but, at the same time, it isn't. Because now, Sukuna holds your hand as you walk down the hallway. Now he kisses you openly, not just behind closed doors or when he's drunk, but in the middle of the crowded hallway. And at lunch, he holds your hand on top of the table, his long tattooed fingers absentmindedly playing with yours while he complains about one of his teammates.

And you rest your chin on your other hand, watching your boyfriend with a dreamy smile, thinking to yourself that somehow it feels as if it was always meant to happen this way.

Nobara is very smug about your relationship update. She found out about it the day after your date in the hockey arena because she walked in on Sukuna and you sharing a deep kiss in the living room. She made a disgusted noise and banged her door shut again, but when Sukuna left an hour later to go to the gym, Nobara cornered you immediately, leaning against your doorframe with her arms crossed in front of her chest, a triumphant grin on her face,

"So, you and Kirby, huh? I knew it!"

You shrugged helplessly, unable to stop the big smile from spreading over your face when you admitted,

"Well, I guess you saw it coming sooner than I did."

Right now, she's lounging lazily on the couch, waving around her fingers to let her nail polish dry while watching you with a knowing look as you check reflection a few times too often in the mirror next to the front door.

"Are you seeing loverboy? Not that I am complaining, by the way. I prefer it when you visit him, so I don't have to see his stupid face."

You huff loudly, turning around to give her a stern look,

"Nobara! Sukuna can actually be really nice! If you would get to know him better, then.."

But Nobara interrupts you, laughing and rolling her eyes,

"I'm just teasing you. I don't mind. Just make sure he doesn't drink all the milk when he's staying here."

With that, she turns around again, lifting her freshly manicured hands in front of her face, inspecting her work, and you stand there with a grin spreading over your face. Maybe Sukuna is growing on your dormmate after all.

"There's a hockey party at our dorm tomorrow."

Sukuna is lying on his bed with one buff arm behind his neck, cat-like maroon eyes watching you lazily, and a sexy smirk on his beautiful tattooed face. He looks so good that it should be illegal. Only wearing his stupid low-sitting grey sweats, so his buff pecs and taut abs are on full display. You don't even know where to look. There is just so much of him, big and broad and so gorgeous with all those muscles and the smooth tattooed skin everywhere.

You have to forcibly shake yourself out of staring at Sukuna with heart-eyes, but when you manage it, you raise an eyebrow teasingly,

"So what are you trying to tell me with that info, Kuna? That we can't see each other tomorrow?"

Sukuna rolls his pretty eyes, his lips lifting in an equally teasing and amused grin,

"Don't play clueless, sweetheart. You know damn well why I'm telling you that."

You grin at Sukuna, leaning closer to him, playfully blinking at him and batting your lashes,

"Hmmm, maybe you have to spell it out for me, baby."

A low, raspy laugh falls from Sukuna's mouth, and he reaches out with his free hand, cupping your chin and brushing his thumb slowly over your lower lip. His intense maroon gaze never leaves you when he whispers in that sexy low drawl,

"I want you to accompany me to that party. Or, to make things even clearer for you, I want you to be my date. Now, what do you say, princess?"

You feel a bit light-headed from the fluttery feeling in your stomach that Sukuna's words cause. Asking you out on your first official date. You can't stop grinning as you nod, pressing a little kiss to Sukuna's thumb that's still resting on your lower lip,

"I say yes."

Your grin turns into a surprised squeal when Sukuna's arms wrap around you and pull you on top of him.

You enter the party on Sukuna's arm and instantly feel intimidated. The apartment is much bigger than Sukuna's and Yuuji's, and the whole place is bustling with people.

You tried to reassure yourself beforehand that this is just a regular college party. But now that you are here, you can't deny anymore, what you already knew deep down. This isn't just a normal college party. It's the kind of party you have never been invited to before.

The large apartment is filled with only the most popular people the campus has to offer. Admired athletes, popular jocks, and just as popular cheerleaders, beautiful sorority girls, and rich daughters and sons of all kinds of important people.

It's a crowd you aren't used to. A crowd that is very good at excluding people like you, who aren't considered anything special in their eyes. Just a boring creative writing student whose name no one has heard before.

Technically, you know that not all of the popular people are like that. Most of Sukuna's teammates are really ok, and the girls in your classes who are also athletes are nice, too. Even Gojo Satoru was easy to get along with when you interviewed him.

But tonight, the large apartment is bustling with people you have never talked to before, and their heads instantly snap to you as Sukuna and you enter the party. Their stares make your stomach clench nervously. You can imagine how Sukuna and you must look to them: The star player of the hockey team, the King of the Ice, and next to him the nameless girl, who is clinging nervously to his large hand while her heart beats up to her throat.

You feel Sukuna's thumb caresses your wrist lightly. A sweet, reassuring gesture that makes you let out the breath you had unconsciously been holding. Sukuna leans down to murmur in your ear,

"Don't be nervous, princess. Just focus on me. Those insects don't even deserve your attention."

You laugh at his words, grateful for how he makes you feel more at ease. Sukuna flashes you one of his most charming smiles and gently tugs you along into the kitchen, where the whole hockey team is gathered, all cheering and whistling loudly when their star player enters. Sukuna returns all the high fives and takes a shot glass from the huge tray that Todo is passing around.

Just when you want to take a step back so the players can drink together, Sukuna's strong arm stops you, keeping you right there by his side. Todo and Yuuji join you, offering you a vodka shot because "You are Sukuna's lucky charm, so you count as an honorary team member!"

You burst out laughing, smiling gratefully at them as you lift your glass to join in on the player's toast. The small room keeps getting fuller as more people come looking for the hockey players, and Sukuna grins at you and lifts you up, setting you on the kitchen counter so he can stand between your legs. His tattooed face comes closer to yours, maroon eyes gazing deeply into yours, and your pulse races. Your hand cups Sukuna's cheek right when his lips brush over yours.

Sukuna's kiss makes your head spin with the way he licks into your mouth and how his large hands wrap around your waist while he pushes his body between your legs.

The rest of the party is far from your mind when you have Sukuna's tongue in your mouth, but unfortunately, you can't make out the whole evening. Sukuna's teammates demand his presence, and you need to go to the bathroom. So you excuse yourself, smiling when Sukuna ruffles your hair before you walk out of the kitchen.

This time, you feel more at ease when you enter the living room, an effect of the alcohol and Sukuna's kisses. But only after a few steps, you feel the atmosphere shift again. The scrutinizing gazes are back.

Spending time with Sukuna on campus already put you in the spotlight, but that felt different somehow. Maybe because a few days ago, you were just the mysterious girl who sometimes walked next to him or the lucky charm he brought to his games. Maybe you seemed like no competition. Like no one important. Just another little fling. Just another replaceable puck bunny. But now you are the girl who took the star player of the ice hockey team off the market, and everyone seems to ask themselves how you managed to do that. It feels as if you get put under a microscope, inspected curiously, and every flaw is analyzed and frowned upon.

You try to ignore the murmurs and stares, even while internally, a storm is brewing in you. Self-doubts mix with anger and dig their claws into your heart. You are relieved when you reach the bathroom and can lock yourself in it, escaping from the gazes and murmurs for at least a few minutes.

You take your time washing your hands, letting the ice-cold water run over your wrists as you look at your face in the mirror.

Come on, don't be stupid. It's just a party. Let them talk. They are just curious because Sukuna has never brought a date before. Just get back to the kitchen and enjoy the rest of the evening!

You steel yourself, straightening up before you open the door and exit the bathroom again.

"Does she really believe she has what it takes to be the girl at Sukuna's side?"

"Right? Sukuna is way out of her league. Who is she even?"

You draw in a sharp breath as your eyes meet the ones of the two girls talking shit about you. They don't even look guilty for getting caught but just stare at you with a scornful expression.

You want to get away from here! Your first instinct is to flee into Sukuna's strong arms, but a wall of football players who are raising their beer bottles and toasting each other is blocking your way. Your gaze lands on the door leading to the balcony. Before you even think about it, your feet carry you towards it.

You step onto the large balcony, deeply inhaling the crisp night air as if you are drowning. You grip the railing tightly, looking at the dark sky above you, internally screaming at yourself to stop being so stupid! Why do you let that random gossip affect you?

You know they were just talking shit. You know Sukuna better than they do! You know what the two of you have is real. But hearing those words still bugs you. They feed the demon inside you that whispers to you that maybe you are really not good enough to be the woman by Sukuna's side. Tears prick at your eyes, but you clench them shut, refusing to cry.

But before you can spiral further, a familiar low, velvety voice speaks up behind you,

"What are you doing out here, princess?"

The tight grip of your hands around the balcony railing loosens when you feel Sukuna's muscular arms wrap around you. You instantly relax into his embrace, leaning against his tall, firm body, chiding yourself silently for letting those judgemental gazes and mean comments get to you and fill your mind with doubts.

"I just needed some fresh air."

You feel Sukuna's warm breath on your neck when he laughs his sexy, low laugh. His lips brush over your neck, and then they open, and his hot tongue glides teasingly over your sensitive skin, making your pulse race and butterflies dance in your belly. You are about to get lost in Sukuna's closeness, in his touch, in the warmth of his buff body, and the feeling of his lips on you, but he is too perceptive, analyzing you too closely.

"Tell me what's wrong, princess."

His arms tighten around you, and he nuzzles his warm lips against your neck,

"You suddenly bolted from the room. Right when I was about to come over to you. Are you feeling sick or something? Do you need me to bring you home? I'll do it, you know that, right? Fuck that boring party. Let's go and get you into bed and watch some trash TV we can make fun of."

Your heart clenches. He is so sweet to you. So caring. It's something you never thought a guy like Sukuna could be. It makes you feel even more guilty for being so affected by some rude comment a stranger said. And so you blurt out the truth,

"I just...I heard some people say something that upset me."

You can feel Sukuna tense up behind you. His voice sounds strained when he asks,

"What did they say?"

"That you're out of my league."

Sukuna huffs. He puts his hands on your hips, turning you around. A large hand cups your cheek, tilting your head so you look up at your boyfriend's tattooed face. The usual playfulness is gone from Sukuna's features, replaced by a serious look.

"They are wrong, princess. I am not out of your league. If anything, it's the other way around."

You are about to say something to him, contradicting him, asking him how he could ever think you are out of his league, but Sukuna puts a long tattooed finger on your lips and shakes his head,

"Listen, princess. I don't give a fuck about anyone's popularity. I play hockey to win, not because I want to be some college celebrity. I despise the people who just want to be with me because they think they can gain some advantage from it. Fuck them! I invited you because when you're with me, everything is better. I want you here. You are my girl. I like having you by my side, and I am proud of showing you off. You make this stupid party 100% better for me, and if anyone gave you the feeling you don't belong here, I have something to say to them."

Your heart feels so full that you can't help but smile from ear to ear. Sukuna's lips lift in his lopsided, handsome smirk when he intertwines his long fingers with your smaller ones and watches you while he jerks his tattooed chin towards the door,

"Come on, let's go back. I have to show my face for a while longer to support my team. And you have a job to do, too, Miss. You're my lucky charm, after all. It's literally in your job description to be by my side. I might get into an accident otherwise, break a leg or some shit like that and not be able to play for weeks. We can't let that happen. Surely you understand. Now give me a kiss."

You laugh at the playful words, reaching out to put your hands on Sukuna's defined pecs, bracing yourself on his chest as you get on your tiptoes to give him a sweet little kiss on the lips before you let him lead you back into the living room.

When you were making your way through the living room on your own, you struggled to find a path through the crowd, but now you are on Sukuna's arm, and Sukuna doesn't have that problem. Anyone who sees him steps aside, making room for him. And the ones who don't see him coming get shoved to the side by Sukuna's tall, muscular body.

There's a group of guys to your left who look your way. One of them turns his head to say something to his friend. You don't catch it, but you feel Sukuna tense up beside you.

He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze before he lets it drop, and before you can ask what's going on, Sukuna is already on the guy who grinned at you, his hands twisted in the guy's shirt, slamming him brutally into the wall behind him as if they are on the ice, and Sukuna is slamming an opponent into the boards.

A loud murmur goes through the crowd. People jump to the side, and others come closer. You see Yuuji's pink hair and hear Todo's booming voice. But all of that seems far away from you. Your focus is only zoomed in on your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend, who is glaring at the guy who apparently must have said something about you. The guy is looking at Sukuna with wide eyes, trying to splutter some excuse for whatever he said, but Sukuna shakes his head, a slow, dangerous smirk spreading over his tattooed face as he pushes the guy into the wall once more.

Contrary to Sukuna's physical force, his voice is calm, though. Deadly calm. Cooing at the guy tauntingly as a cruel smirk spreads over Sukuna's face,

"You're really fucking insane, aren't you? Daring to insult my girlfriend. Acting so tough when, in reality, you are such a pathetic little guy. Apologize to her."

Adrenaline is sizzling in your veins. Seeing Sukuna like that is making you feel light-headed. A mix of worry and strange pride and arousal flows through you. You know Sukuna has that bad boy reputation, but this is the first time you see him attack someone off the ice. It's actually fucking hot. Especially when he's doing it for you.

The guy stammers an apology, squirming in Sukuna's tight grip and trying to shake him off, but he doesn't stand a chance against the force that is Itadori Sukuna. His friends don't come to his rescue either. All of them are cowering a few feet away, apparently not wanting to get on Sukuna's bad side.

Sukuna slams him against the wall once more, his tone cold and dangerous,

"Let me spell it out for you and everyone else. She's my girlfriend. She belongs to these parties. She belongs everywhere where I belong, too. Do you understand that?"

Sukuna cocks his head, smirking that dangerous smirk, his voice dripping with sadistic amusement.

The guy nods hurriedly, eyes wide with fear,

"Yes! Yes, of course!"

And Sukuna laughs, his voice dropping to a low, velvety whisper,

"Now get the fuck out of my sight. I give you ten seconds. And if I ever get wind of you talking shit about my girl again, I will fuck up your whole life."

He lifts his head to let his narrowed maroon eyes scan the room slowly,

"And that goes for every single one of you."

You could hear a pin drop in the large room. The whole room is either staring at Sukuna or looking anywhere but at him, too intimidated to look at the enraged King of the Ice.

Sukuna yanks the guy off the wall and pushes him into the middle of the room, sending him stumbling into his friends, who catch him while Sukuna watches with a raised eyebrow,

"What are you still doing here, scum? I told you to run. Do I really have to start counting as if we are in kindergarten? Ten. Nine..."

It doesn't take more. The guy scrambles to his feet and practically bolts from the party, followed by his friends, accompanied by the loud booing and laughter coming from the hockey team.

Sukuna is by your side again, the cruel smirk replaced by the boyish grin you have grown so fond of. He wraps a strong arm around your shoulder and pulls you to him. His touch is so gentle, so completely different from the way he just treated the guy who talked shit about you.

"Sorry that you had to see this. But I had to be an asshole real quick. I won't let anyone disrespect you."

"It's ok. You are a very sexy asshole."

You tilt your head to grin up at Sukuna, and he meets your gaze with an amused sparkle in his maroon eyes. His arms tighten around you, and he leans down to claim your lips in a heated kiss. Making out with you in the middle of the crowded living room, letting everyone see that you are his girl.

Your eyes close, and you sigh, kissing Sukuna back eagerly, drowning in his closeness, adrenaline flowing through your veins after seeing him be so protective over you and seeing him display his affection for you in front of everyone.

Sukuna doesn't leave your side for the rest of the evening. You have some more vodka shots, get some snacks from the kitchen, and join Yuuji and Todo on the couch to chat with them about hockey and your classes and laugh about the time you were their getaway driver after they destroyed their rival teams' ice sculpture.

Sukuna pulled you onto his lap at some point, and you stayed right there, basking in the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around you, his warm lips occasionally trailing little kisses over your neck, and the firm muscles of his chest and abs rippling against your back anytime he laughs.

The fluttery feeling in your tummy doesn't go away the whole evening, and it even intensifies when Sukuna gives his brother and Todo high fives and tells them he and you are leaving.

Sukuna steers you out of the apartment with a strong hand on the small of your back while he walks behind you, close enough for you to feel his tall, broad body.

You walk down the staircase next to each other with one of Sukuna's arms thrown over your shoulder. Sukuna's and Yuuji's apartment is just two floors down the staircase, but before you even reach it, Sukuna has already pulled a battered cigarette pack out of his jeans pocket and lights a cigarette while his arm is still around you, making you stumble against him. He takes a deep drag and groans in satisfaction as the nicotine fills his lungs.

"Fuck, I needed that after that stupid party."

You laugh and shake your head, wordlessly pointing at the big no-smoking sign plastered to the wall right next to Sukuna. He smirks at you, raising an eyebrow as he slowly blows out the smoke,

"Who is gonna stop me? At least I'm not smoking in our apartment, so my dear brother won't throw things at me."

You roll your eyes in mock exasperation and wrap a hand around Sukuna's biceps, pulling on his arm,

"Come on, big boy, let's go outside for a while so you can smoke without getting in trouble, and I can get some fresh air. I need it too after that party."

"You're so cute, princess."

Sukuna smirks teasingly at you, but he obeys and lets you pull him down the stairs and out of the dorm.

The two of you stand on the pavement before the building, hugging closely while Sukuna smokes slowly, blowing the smoke in your face with a teasing smirk and watching you with his cat-like gaze. You sigh and roll your eyes but only snuggle closer against him, your arms wrapped around him, nails running up and down his broad back, gently scratching him as you let Sukuna's secondhand smoke and his warm embrace and the smell of his cologne calm your nerves.

It's suddenly easy again. Peaceful. Joking around with Sukuna, rolling your eyes playfully at him, and laughing with him. The party seems miles away. All that exists is Sukuna and you.

The circles he moves in are still foreign to you, but it doesn't matter, you realize. When it comes down to it, all that matters is just you and him and this thing between you. This strong connection that feels so natural and magnetic.

Of course, you say yes when Sukuna flicks his cigarette to the ground and asks if you will spend the night at his apartment. He takes your hand, intertwines his long fingers with yours, and gently tugs you along, leading you back up the staircase to his apartment, making your tummy flutter with the way his thumb is caressing your wrist.

Sukuna unlocks the door, and his lips are on yours the moment you enter the apartment. His muscular arms swoop you up, carrying you to his room, his large, calloused hands undressing you while his tongue licks slowly into your mouth. And you moan his name, slipping your hands under his shirt, pulling it up, caressing Sukuna's warm tattooed skin, running your fingers over his defined muscles, smiling when he growls into your mouth.

The two of you tumble onto the bed, never breaking the kiss, moaning into each other's mouth as you yank at your clothes. Sukuna is naked before you and gets to work on pulling your jeans and your panties off, his hands running down your legs, followed by his soft lips, making your hips buck needily, your fingers tangling in his soft pink hair, tugging on it, pulling him to you, needing more of him. Needing him closer. Needing all of him.

His low chuckle sends a pleasure-filled shiver down your spine as he pushes you down on the mattress. Sukuna's tall, broad figure covers you fully, his weight traps you under him in the most delicious way. His lips find yours again in another slow, deep, wet kiss. You feel his hard cock rub against your belly, hot and velvety, making you wrap your legs around Sukuna's hips in your need to get him inside you, moaning into his mouth, your hands in his hair, your body arching needily up against his buff body.

You are so wet for him just from kissing him, making Sukuna groan breathlessly when his cock slips between your legs and glides through your slick pussy lips. He pulls away for a second, but only to push into you when he snaps his hips against you, making both of you gasp when his thick cockhead splits you open.

And then it's needy, slow fucking. Sukuna keeps kissing you, deep, loving tongue kisses, his strong arms resting on both sides of your face, his muscular body moving on top of you, fucking you with slow, deep thrusts.

It's nasty but sweet at the same time. Slow sex, more lovemaking than fucking. And you melt, giving yourself fully to Sukuna, mewling into his mouth, squeezing your legs around him, digging your nails into the buff muscles of his broad back, kissing him back hungrily, gasping with every deep, slow thrust that kisses your sweet spot.

The lights in Sukuna's room are off. The only light comes from the streetlamps that shine their glow through the window. Your mind is hazy, partly from the vodka shots you had and the smoke you inhaled, but also from the giddiness at being so close to Sukuna, the exhilaration of knowing how committed he is to you, how he let everyone know that you are his girlfriend.

He fucks you so good that you cry, tears slowly running down your cheeks, while Sukuna rolls his hips against yours slowly. Letting you feel every inch of his long, thick cock. A slow, steady rhythm that makes you clench around him, sobbing into his hot mouth anytime you feel his cock pushing slowly into you until his heavy balls are resting against your ass, letting you know that he is as close to you as possible.

It feels so intimate. Making love in Sukuna's dimly lit room while the faint noises of the party two floors above you drift to your ears. But here it's only Sukuna and you. And Sukuna doesn't wear his mask of arrogant aloofness. His gaze is open, full of burning love and desire. His lips open in breathless groans, followed by whispered sweet nothings.

It's deep and intense. As if Sukuna is showing you his love for you with every slow move of his tall, broad body on top of you. With every caress of his hard cock. With every heated kiss that brushes your naked skin. With every whispered word breathed against your lips.

You cling to Sukuna needily, caressing his broad back and his firm, full ass, moaning his name in between tender but nasty open-mouthed tongue kisses, and Sukuna groans those sexy low groans that give you butterflies, not just in your tummy but also in your pussy.

"Fuck, princess. I love you. I fucking love you."

Sukuna moans breathlessly against your lips, and you clench around his cock at his soft words, caressing his back, whispering against his lips,

"I love you, too, baby. Love you so much."

You feel Sukuna's hips stutter, feel his muscles tense under your fingers. He moans and stops moving, his lips only lightly brushing over yours, panting heavily, his forehead pressing against yours as he tries to hold back his orgasm.

Sukuna pushes himself up on his elbows, his thick cock slipping out of you, only letting his fat mushroom tip caress your swollen clit. Sukuna gazes at you, his tattooed cheeks flushed, maroon eyes full of need. His large hands land on your legs, calloused fingers running slowly over your thighs and calves, making you tremble under his tender touches.

Sukuna grabs your legs and lifts them, putting them over his broad shoulders. Heated, wet kisses land on both your ankles before Sukuna snaps his hips again and fucks his gorgeous cock back into you. You cry out his name, throwing your head back on his pillow, your mouth opening in a row of mewls. The switch of position makes things even more intense. You can feel Sukuna even deeper inside you with the way he's folding you in half, making the fluttery feeling in your pussy become so intense that you sob from it.

You hear Sukuna's sexy, breathless groans and feel his strong body on top of you, his buff muscles flexing with every deep thrust. His weight presses you down into the mattress, fucking you so deep that it makes you dizzy. But he takes things slow. Savoring your first time making love to the fullest.

He leans down so his face is so close to yours that you are breathing each other's breath, your eyes locked in a deep, intense gaze as you both get closer and closer to your peak with every thrust. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel your pussy growing tighter around Sukuna's cock, the butterflies in your tummy going crazy.

"Look at me, princess. Fuck... look at me."

You moan loudly, obeying Sukuna's wish, looking deeply into his eyes, sighing anytime his fat cockhead hits your sweet spot with the most delicious precision, making a firework of bliss explode inside you with every slow thrust. You mewl desperately, nails digging into Sukuna's skin, hips lifting needily to meet his slow thrusts. Just a bit more, just a little bit more, and you will drown in bliss!

You see the moment Sukuna reaches the point of no return. See it in his heavy-lidded maroon eyes when he can't hold back his orgasm anymore. And Sukuna cums deep inside your pussy, looking so sexy and beautiful with his eyes so soft and full of bliss, his mouth hanging open with the sexiest low moans falling from his lips as he ruts against you, fucking his whole orgasm into you.

You follow him only a moment later, squealing his name loudly, your whole body shaking, pussy so tight around Sukuna's fat cock that he is gasping from it.

"Fuck, princess. Yeah, cum for me, baby, just like that. Just like that. Fuck! Milk me dry."

You are lost in pleasure, moaning and mewling as he fucks you slowly through your orgasm. Sukuna's soft lips claim yours again, swallowing your mewls, kissing you sweet and deep as he rests his heavy weight fully on you, pressing you down into the sheets while he still rolls his hips slowly against you, letting you enjoy his cock until the last waves of your high have ebbed off. Giving you his all, just like you are giving him your all.

You sigh happily against Sukuna's lips, hugging him tightly to you, your fingers playing with the short stubble of his undercut before they run down his broad, muscular back and back up again, caressing him lovingly. And he kisses you slowly with those sexy, deep French kisses. Your breathing gradually slows down again, your bodies relaxing against each other, but neither of you makes a move to let go.

The sex scene made me blush so much AAAHH 😳😳 It's not just fucking anymore but lovemaking with deep eye contact!! I am so flustered 💗😵

I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! The scene at the party where Sukuna attacked that guy wasn't planned at first, but my dear Kuna told me that he wants to let everyone know we are his girl and that anyone who gives us shit will get into trouble with the Ice King himself lol. He is so funny uwu Thank you so much for reading! I am always so happy when I can share a new chapter with you and see your reactions! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗 In the next chapter, we will have: Two dates with boyfie Sukuna (one which kind of fails, but in a funny way, and a real one). More ice hockey because Reader still has her job as Sukuna's lucky charm! And more bonding.

[inkedinshadows]

Helloooo hope you’re doing well 💝💗

I was wondering if you can write for azriel ( from the prompt list) 2 and 4? I think it would be such a cute idea, and you would write it so well (love u)

thanks for ur time!! 💝💝

Life's Bright Side

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

A/N: I love u too anon, I'm doing well and I hope you are too 🫶🏻 I had so much fun writing this one and it didn't even take me that long bc one thing about me is that I'm a sucker for slice of life 🤭

Prompts: "Baby, I love you, but please go to bed."* + "You're always so cheerful... it's kind of adorable."

Warnings: none, just fluff

Word count: 1.1k

*had to change it to "go to sleep", hope you don't mind <3

Azriel had never understood how you did it.

Your day had been a long one. He hated the Court of Nightmares, but more than that, he loathed seeing you in such a place. His bubbly, chirpy mate didn't belong among those cruel, scheming people.

Yet you never let the occasional visits bother you. While he returned from the Hewn City brooding and in a foul mood, you were the opposite.

He watched as you danced through the room, the dim light catching on the sparkly black dress you were still wearing. You were softly humming a melody to yourself, a simple tune you had picked up yesterday while strolling along the Sidra with him.

A small smile tugged at Azriel’s lips. Even without trying, you always managed to lift his spirits. His shadows were already swaying in time with your song.

He remained silent as he undressed, listening as your humming turned into quiet singing—whispered words he couldn't quite make out, but he was fairly sure you were making them up as you went.

When he looked back up after pulling on his sleeping clothes, your dress had been exchanged for a nightgown and you were perched at the vanity table to remove your makeup. One leg crossed over the other, your foot bounced in time with your tune.

“How do you do that?” he asked, unable to stop himself.

Your eyes met his in the mirror, a small smile forming as you wiped the cotton pad over one eye. “Do what?”

Azriel shrugged, stepping up behind you just as you stood. He wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on the top of your head.

“You’re always so cheerful,” he murmured, meeting your gaze in the mirror again. His lips quirked. “It’s kind of adorable.”

You chuckled before turning in his arms. “Life's too short to be grumpy and pessimistic.” Pressing a kiss to his lips, you added, “You should try it sometimes, my love.”

Azriel huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. He leaned down to stop your teasing with another kiss, but you slipped out of his grasp and padded toward the bathroom.

“Baby, you're immortal,” he pointed out, following you to lean against the doorframe while you washed your face. “How is life too short?”

“Well, it's not,” you conceded, turning off the faucet. Azriel waited patiently as you dried your face before you continued. “But maybe tomorrow a vase will fall from a balcony while I'm walking underneath it, hit me in the head, and kill me instantly.”

Azriel raised a brow.

“What?” you said with a smile. “You never know. Just because it's unlikely doesn't mean it's impossible.”

He shook his head, but he couldn't stop the slow smile forming on his face. “I'm beginning to think you're crazy. Not cheerful, just straight-up crazy.”

“And it took you this long to figure that out?” You grinned, patting his arm as you tried to slip past him.

Tried, because Azriel caught you before you could, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush against him. A sound that was both a laugh and a yelp escaped you as he lifted you without warning.

“Listen,” you tried to defend yourself, though it was hard to speak between fits of laughter. “All I'm saying is that everything has a bright side. We just have to look for it.”

Azriel carried you to the bed, his expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. Gently, he lowered you onto the mattress and leaned over you.

“Oh yeah?” he mused. “So what's the bright side of a vase falling on your head?”

You shoot him an incredulous look. “It made you laugh,” you said simply. “You picked me up and carried me to bed. And now you're on top of me. It’s my favorite position, I'll remind you.”

Azriel’s low chuckle skittered along your skin. “This is not your favorite position, my love.”

You grinned. “You know me so well.”

With a shake of his head, he shifted off you and lay beside you, pulling the blankets over you both as you reached to turn off the lights.

In the dark, you nestled close to him. Your back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped snugly around you, and you reached down to intertwine your fingers with his. Your thumb traced slow, idle circles over the back of his hand.

“Did it work though?” you whispered into the quiet. “Did I get your mind off the Hewn City?”

Azriel breathed in the delicate scent of your shampoo as he brushed a kiss to your shoulder. “You did. Thank you, my love.”

“I could always give you something else to think about if you need it,” you suggested.

He didn't, actually. But something in your tone—the slight note of amusement, perhaps—made him question what you were up to.

“Is it going to be another one of your ridiculous questions?”

He could picture your smile as you replied, “Maybe. Do you want to hear it?”

Azriel took a deep breath, knowing he would regret it but still curious to find out what you'd come up with this time. “Let's hear it.”

You didn't answer right away. He felt you squirm slightly in his arms and realized you were trying to stifle your giggles. When you finally settled enough to speak, your voice was so pensive that Azriel braced himself.

“If you wake up tomorrow,” you began, “and find out I've been turned into a giant spider, what would you do?”

Azriel sighed. This was his fault, after all. He had encouraged you.

“That's even worse than the last one,” he muttered.

“You said I would make a lovely worm.” You hummed. “But what about a huge spider? Or wait, even better, a Middengard Wyrm?”

His arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer. “Baby, I love you, but please go to sleep,” he murmured, though his lips betrayed him with a faint smile.

Your soft laugh echoed in the silence. “Alright, alright,” you conceded. Azriel thought that was it, until you added, “The question is trickier and you need to think about it. I get it. You can tell me the answer in the morning.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, but his smile was now impossible to hide. You felt it against your skin as he kissed the nape of your neck.

If entertaining your nonsense questions before falling asleep was the price he had to pay to be with you, then he'd gladly endure them again and again just to spend another night by your side.

It was just like you'd said. Everything had a bright side if only he looked for it.

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon

1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness

[svetamillss]

Headcanons: their main fear in the relationship with you🤍

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f), Kang Dae Ho x Reader(f), Kang Sae Byeok x Reader(f), Thanos (Su Bong) x Reader(f), Nam Gyu x Reader(f)

A/N: Soon I will try to deal with your orders! Also soon I will write headcanons about the alphabet with characters!

🤍🤍🤍

Cho Hyun Ju

The girl is very afraid that you will leave her for another, because she is not good enough for you. She tried to be feminine: she made beautiful hairstyles, cute makeup, dressed up in good and classic clothes, sometimes even allowed herself skirts and dresses, used good perfumes. But despite this, she still felt like a man, because she didn't make a full transition. She still had a male voice, an Adam's apple, light stubble on her face, but most importantly, she still had a dick. She wanted to finish everything faster, but there not enough money and Ju had to put up with it.

You always told her that she is the most beautiful girl in the world and you don't care that she hasn't changed into a girl yet, she believes you, she cries hearing these words. But she is still afraid that the worst thing may happen to her and you will constantly prove the opposite.

Kang Dae Ho

The guy told you that after the service he developed PTSD. You accepted it and said that everything was fine, that he was a great guy, that he continued to be strong and brave.

But the guy has a new fear. He fears that he won't be able to protect you because of his disorder.

Dae Ho is afraid that someday you will get bored that he sometimes behaves like a cowardly child and leave him.

He knows that you are not like that, he knows that you love him very much, but there is fear and he tries to fight it.

Kang Sae Byeok

You are a very nice and romantic person. You have always shown a lot of attention and love for your girlfriend, shower her with compliments, give gifts and much more.

Sae Byeok is very pleased, she likes that you are trying for her.

But she has a problem. A girl doesn't know how to give attention and love like you. She's used to being cold-blooded and distant, Sae doesn't even treat her brother too kindly.

She's ashamed of it. She is afraid that you will get tired of her cold and go to the one who can give you all the love and attention.

Sae Byeok tries, she tries very hard and you see it, what she does is very valuable to you.

Someday the girl will be able to cope with her cold to the end.

Thanos (Su Bong)

You and your boyfriend have been dating for about three years. You survived both ups and downs, but you always stayed close to each other.

You tried to help the guy cope with his addiction.

He tried to quit permanently, but constantly returned to the state when he could not recognize anyone but you (yes, even in a terrible state, he can recognize you).

Sometimes you have your hands dropped and you quarrel with a guy, saying that you will leave him, because you want a normal life, you want a wedding and children in the future, but you can't, because it's very difficult to build it with such a person.

Su Bong understands this, he is very ashamed, he promises to leave, but always breaks these promises.

He's afraid that you'll fulfill your threat and leave him, he even cries because of all this when he's left alone.

Nam Gyu

The biggest fear is betrayal. He was betrayed, humiliated and insulted many times. He was considered a litter because he was friends with influential people, especially because of his friendship with Thanos.

He doesn't want you to be the same, he doesn't want to know that you use him and his trust for your own benefit.

He is also afraid that Thanos will take you away, because according to Gyu he is much better.

But you always prove the opposite, you say that you don't need anyone but Gyu, that you love only him and he is the best person in your life.

He believes you, but he still has fear.

🤍🤍🤍

[thetadispatcher]

Vincent glanced at the remaining stranger in the room, deciding she likely wasn't going to do anything, and even if she did Dan was close enough to put a quick end to it.

So the AP700 allowed himself to relax and put more of his focus on watching the other android work, he'd rather concentrate on that then any thoughts that might pop into his head, as they never seemed to go anywhere good.

Hugh could easily guess Nines was already picking apart the human at the table, even if the RK900 showed no change in demeanor. It was just something the android did to new people.

"Maybe, but she is keeping Sixty occupied at the moment, which is perfectly fine with me." Nines would rather have someone keeping Sixty busy as the RK800 always seemed to like following him around, something he didn't much enjoy due to Sixty feeling the need to talk about random subjects he could care less about.

John shifted his attention from Nines to Bishop at the remark about military units. "Well, Hugh is the one who has to call you out, not me. He was built purely for combat, hence his much larger body. I was built to handle tasks given to Navy Seals, so I am capable of interrogation if need be." The android explained as Nines swapped seats with Hugh.

"I am a prototype called a Myrmidon, and Hugh is the other prototype called the Trojan." He motioned to the larger android as he took a seat back on the floor.

"I...suppose that's true." Strasky went silent as he felt he needed time to think, and he really didn't have much else he felt he needed to say, at least on the current subject.

He shifted his attention to Sixty who seemed unbothered by the subject they'd been discussing, if anything he felt the android had just tuned them out and was off in his own little world.

He had a feeling the RK800 would join them if they discussed something else, but he really didn't know what else to talk about, or even what Sixty would like talking about. The android hadn't dropped any hints at his personal preferences, and he seemed to like jumping into discussions rather then starting them. So Strasky decided he'd leave the android to his own devices for the time being, they really didn't need Sixty's help with anything anyways.

"Maybe, it's hard for me to say if they will." Dan may have seen the interactions Strasky had with his coworkers, but he wasn't about to judge them based on that alone. He'd been around enough humans to know some could lie and act very well, without any thought as to how it might affect someone if they found out.

"Does she listen in on your conversations a lo-AH!" Dan cut himself off with a startled yell as he turned his head, finally catching sight of the android that had walked up behind him. The PL600 promptly punched through the basement wall, barely stopping himself from hitting his intended target.

The android seemed unbothered as he stood patiently, looking expectantly at Dan.

Dan jerked his arm free of the wall as his LED started flashing yellow, quickly answering the androids contacting him that everything was fine and no one had been hurt. "I-god damn it-hi..." He turned his focus to the other android, looking mildly annoyed as he took the notepad from the other unit to write on it, then handed it back.

He watched the other android nod then hurry off happily, shaking his head with a sigh before looking at the hole he'd punched through the brickwork. "Sorry about that." He apologized as he turned back to Rook. "That can be fixed, it's...fine, I guess. Not the first time I've caused property damage, and definitely won't be the last." Usually the damage was just Dan ripping off doors, but maybe the construction androids would be happy to know they didn't have to fix another door.

The android seemed satisfied nonetheless. He wasn't a master at conversation either and was fine as long as Vincent gave him enough to understand what he meant.

If he was comfortable with just a few words, Vincent could also get there eventually and it'd be fine.

Now he just had to not mess this design up.

Bishop only slightly nodded at the explanation. He still had to keep up the facade to not let himself get away.

"Very well. Although, in the future, you should go after the pink cyborg that came along with us. She might provide a fairer challenge."

Or she would cheat by messing with Nines' circuits, which was just fine with him as well.

"Though I take it military models aren’t that well trained to handle interrogations."

He might as well throw in a little jab at John as well.

"Let’s not worry about the details now. What matters is that you keep trying and remind yourself that there are people who like you exactly the way you are." Willow replied, before tilting her head slightly, "You escaped the WAU. It'd be a shame if you'd now be lost to those doubts that are tormenting you."

With that, she went back to browsing the plushies.

"It's good you're telling me these things. I've got my phone here, Willow's probably listening too." Rook said, "At least now I know I'm not the problem. I guess figuring this out will be the next step once his friends are sorted out. Maybe they'll finally return the favor and take care of the guy who erased himself to worry about their problems instead."

[hannieehaee]

LO$ER=LO♡ER

18+ / mdi

summary: jihoon's been pushed aside and ostracized from the moment he was born. completely alone, with no family and only a handful of friends, he's been too beaten down to expect anything good with the shitty cards life has dealt him. when he's presented with his new coworker, it's hard to not fantasize about her, but he'll never actually allow himself to believe she could ever look like him with anything but pity — just like everyone else.

content: loser!jihoon, antisocial!jihoon, sociallyawkward!jihoon, insecure!jihoon, sunshine!reader, jihoon is basically just a complete loser with horrible luck who's never felt true happiness (sorry), mentions of bullying, mentions of jihoon's sad past, sunshine!reader, slowburn, lots of worldbuilding but its just so u can feel sorry for jihoon lol, coworkers au, pining, miscommunication, afab reader, smut, sub!jihoon, virgin!jihoon, handjob, body worship, nipple play, dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 14k

a/n: this was my fave concept to write so far honestly hehe

masterlist

Every week was the same.

Jihoon would get up, fix his overgrown hair the best he could, and take the train over to work.

This was as far as he'd gotten in life; an overly repetitive existence with no sense of joy within it.

He should've been happy. Things were better now. Being 27 with a stable job and no real issues in his life should be something to be grateful for, yet Jihoon found himself being completely displeased with his life.

Surely there must be more to life than this, right? A lonely and loveless life that appeared to be leading him nowhere. But still, things were better than before.

It was hard for Jihoon to speak of his childhood, much less his teenage years (or even his college life). It was all too grim. He'd grown to accept it, to let it all go, but the past had made him who he was, and he knew his current self was to blame for his loneliness. For his lack of love.

And so he continued his daily routine, living day after day with no change in sight. He accepted this with a flat smile, grateful that things were just fine. Not good, not great, not even varied, but just fine.

This week, though, finally had something different. But to Jihoon that was usually bad news.

Were you bad news?

You were the brand new thing in his life.

It was your first week in his office. A brand new face. A very pretty face.

Jihoon never thought about such things. He'd never had any romantic experience in his life. He had a long distance girlfriend once, but even that didn't work out. Too much distance, too many lies, too many complications. Jihoon just wasn't made for love.

So he never thought of such things again.

It was rare for him to even see a pretty girl on his day to day. His morning commute was far too early and filled with people way too old for him to even look in the eye without feeling disrespectful. His workplace, although consisted of a variety of people, was not a place where he felt very welcome initiating friendships or anything of the sort. Cliques had ended in high school, he thought, yet he found himself at the bottom of the food chain among his coworkers. He wasn't liked and was deliberately avoided by everyone around him.

Until you came along.

Finding you beautiful was no surprise to Jihoon. It was the most obvious thing in the world. Putting appearances aside, you were sunshine personified. Smart, confident, hardworking, gentle, nice, beautiful. You were everything anyone could ever want. At times Jihoon even wondered whether he wanted you or if he just wanted to be like you.

You'd caused an immense impression in him within the short time in which he'd known you.

He hadn't really gotten to know you on a personal level yet. But you had extended him an olive branch upon the first meeting, which was a memory that had implanted itself on his mind. It was rare for Jihoon to come by good memories.

This was the first time he'd felt accepted in a very long time. Yet the fears of it turning around and slapping him in the face (like in so many prior instances) was too big for him to really consider you good news in his life.

It was kind of embarrassing looking back at it. Jihoon hadn't been expecting you (how could he have?), but you suddenly showed up at his cubicle accompanied by one of his coworkers, Doyle.

Doyle wasn't someone Jihoon thought too much about — or at least he tried not to. He was the classic high school bully, except in a corporate-world wrapping. Jihoon had dealt with bullies his whole life, he'd become desensitized to it by now. Still, it bothered him to see him standing next to you. He hadn't met you yet, but he was immediately disheartened by the new girl at the office looking buddy-buddy with someone he considered an adversary.

What had been surprising to Jihoon, though, was your complete disinterest in Doyle's obvious advances.

It was pretty often that Doyle would attempt to assert his dominance by putting Jihoon down in front of other coworkers. He'd tease him and patronize him in front of anyone to see in order to show others who was in charge. And it was not Jihoon, that was for damn sure.

Jihoon got up as soon as he sensed a presence at his cubicle, somehow managing to stumble over his feet as he did so. When he looked up, he was not expecting you, yet there you were. Beautiful, smiling down at him with genuine interest in your eyes. You didn't know him, but you had kindness in your eyes. He could tell.

He stumbled over an introduction as Doyle interrupted him, telling you Jihoon's name and position at the company for him. Unwarranted and once again showing that if he so wished, he could speak over Jihoon.

But you'd interrupted him in return, turning to Jihoon to extend your hand with that smile never leaving your lips.

"Hi, it's really nice to meet you," you'd smiled as he felt fire at the mere handshake.

"Hi, I, uhm, I'm Jihoon. Lee Jihoon. I didn't realize we had someone new coming. It's nice to meet you. You- If you need anything, you can always ask me," he slapped himself mentally when he said it. He stuttered his way through it like a fucking loser. His immediate attraction to you was too obvious. Doyle's smirk as he stood beside you told him all he needed to know.

"Oh, that's so nice, thank you! I'm right next door. Well- right next cubicle, so I'll probably take you up on that sooner or later," you laughed at your own attempt of a joke.

Jihoon couldn't help chuckling back, ignoring Doyle as he patted your shoulder, laughing along. Jihoon noticed a short-lived discomfort in your eyes at the action, one which died when your eyes went back to him.

Was he imagining it, or were you showing preference towards Jihoon?

"Well, let's not bother our little Jihoonie here any longer," Doyle interrupted once more, "It's almost lunch time," he leaned in to tell you, looking down at Jihoon, "We all usually go to a burger joint nearby — Jihoonie here likes to stay in, so we try to stay out of his way."

That wasn't entirely true.

Once upon a time, Jihoon did attempt to join the rest of his coworkers in outings, but he was always alienated. After a few too many slights about his hair, his height, his weird choice in clothing, or even just his personality, he decided to stray away from anything that wasn't strictly professional when it came to his coworkers. He was always the butt of the joke, so he made the decision to isolate in the office with a cold sandwich he packed for himself every day.

Sometimes his friends Soonyoung and Mingyu from accounting would join him, but there was usually not enough time to see them during regular working hours. This left him alone most of the time.

Your face seemed to deflate at Doyle's words. Whether it was out of pity for Jihoon or annoyance at Doyle's overzealous confidence around you, he wasn't sure.

"Oh, I actually brought a packed lunch," you told Doyle before turning to face Jihoon again, "Would it be okay if I stay in with you?", you looked at him with expectant eyes.

"You wanna, uhm, have lunch with me?", he asked dumbly and you nodded, "Y-yeah, that'd be nice, yes," he attempted a shy smile, succeeding when you returned it.

Doyle cleared his throat, interrupting the silent smiles you and Jihoon were sharing.

"Well, I could stay in with you if you want, I-"

But you interrupted him again.

"That's fine. I don't wanna get in the way of your plans. Jihoon will make fine company," you said politely, stepping away from Doyle to head over to your desk, popping back next to Jihoon with a brown paper bag.

Doyle looked dumbfounded for a few moments before masking it with a tight smile. Jihoon simply stood there as you pulled up a chair and settled it on Jihoon's desk, paying no mind to Doyle.

"I guess I'll leave you two to it. I'll keep showing you around after lunch. You have my number if you need anything," Doyle made emphasis on that last statement, offering you what looked like a genuine smile before giving Jihoon a look that told him he still felt victorious in the end.

"Thanks, Doyle! Bye!," you smiled back before turning to Jihoon.

Lunch was incredibly awkward for Jihoon. But that wasn't your fault. You'd been incredibly nice, asking him questions and keeping the conversation going despite the mumbly, shy mess Jihoon was. The conversation was entirely carried by you, with you surprisingly taking an interest in him. Every word, every gesture, they all led him to believe you were genuinely nice.

At the same time, he felt entirely delusional.

It wasn't often that people were nice to him, so it was likely he was building it up to be more than it actually was. You likely did not want to stay in with him, but after Doyle brought up that Jihoon was the only one in the office during lunch break, you had no option but to join him since you also planned to stay in. However, you were a good team player, Jihoon believed. Not many people would sacrifice their lunch to stay in with the black sheep of the office just to rid yourself of any possible awkwardness. Jihoon knew damn well many previous coworkers had gone out of their way to avoid him before.

But despite the belief that you simply pitied him, Jihoon missed your time spent together the moment it ended. He felt shy and blushed bright red at every single word uttered from you, but it had been the nicest interaction he'd had in a long time (a long, long time).

That had happened last Wednesday, repeating itself on Thursday, Friday, and then a whole weekend was spent with Jihoon solely thinking about you. Time that he usually spent reading or playing chess online was instead used up to think about you. It was mostly to overthink every tiny interaction and panic over it, but it was was still preoccupied by you.

But he also thought about other things.

How beautiful he found you to be. How nice, funny, hardworking, smart and riveting you were (despite this being an assessment he'd made in less than a week of knowing you). This was Jihoon's first crush in ... he couldn't even remember how long.

And it was terrible.

Every crush he'd ever had had turned out terribly. Harmless elementary school crushes turned into pranks pulled by his classmates in order to embarrass him. Prepubescent middle school crushes became false confessions that led to public embarrassment. Hopeless high school crushes were nothing but a farse that led him into giving up altogether.

Throughout his practically non-existent love life, Jihoon had always been met by nothing but discouragement, sometimes by simple rejection and other times by harassment from people who believed him to be unworthy of being liked. These were memories he did not like to relive, but the resurgence of feelings for someone brought them all back.

And so he was unsure of how to feel. He was unsure of whether to let himself like you or recoil, unwilling to even try.

"Hey, Jihoon, do you think you could help me with this?", you asked him on Monday.

After spending all weekend thinking about you, Monday finally came. He was unsure as to whether or not your friendly behavior would continue onto your second week, when you were more settled in. In the usual cold and reserved fashion he'd adopted for the past decade, he avoided you most of the morning. When he saw you in the elevator upon arriving at the office, he stalled, waiting for the door to close so he wouldn't have to share the ride with you. He hadn't wanted to avoid you so blatantly, but apparently his past trauma had taken control of his body at the time.

If you noticed, he hadn't realized. He hoped you hadn't.

And now, a few hours into the day, you were asking for his help, and even his anxieties couldn't prevent him from helping you. He wanted to be good to you. At the moment, it was what he wanted most. He was unsure as to why.

He got up, hands fidgeting together as he took the few steps over to your desk, awkwardly standing next to your seat as you turned towards the computer on screen. Taking a few steps closer, he cleared his throat, standing right behind you and leaning down in order to check out whatever was on screen before you began to explain.

"So sorry to bother you, Jihoon! I, uh, I was just wondering what I should do when I get this pop-up? I tried looking over the manual, but I couldn't find anything," you pointed over at the screen, eyes still on it, "It's just-"

Jihoon invertedly leaned closer, eyes also on the screen. As soon as he looked at what was on display, he locked in, fully focused on the issue at hand.

Surprisingly even to himself, Jihoon enjoyed his job. He was amazing at it, and getting to help you out was just a bonus.

"Oh, yeah. It's a glitch. It happens sometimes. Here, let me just ..."

Without thinking, he interrupted you, hands taking over your mouse and keyboard as he leaned impossibly closer without realizing it. His head was right next to yours, but since he was too focused on the task at hand, he did not have the realization to be flustered at the proximity. And then he fucked up even further.

Continuing to help you, he began rambling out explanations about what he was currently doing on screen. He rambled on and on, showing you step by step how to handle the issue and adding on extra details the average person would not concern themselves with. He was so into it, he didn't realize he went on for a good five minutes, all while you sat next to him, staring quietly at the screen as you watched his every move.

That was until he was abruptly interrupted.

"Jesus Christ, Jihoon, you're going to make the girl never want to ask for help again," Doyle's voice suddenly rang through, a mocking yet patronizing tone wrapped around every word.

Jihoon's movements halted when he heard a few giggles from other coworkers resounding at Doyle's statement. Slowly, he backed his hands away from the mouse, barely registering how close he was to you when his face turned to your own, finding you looking at him with a worried look on your face — he couldn't decipher what it meant, but he was too embarrassed to even think of it.

He jumped back at the proximity, mumbling out an apology with a bow of his head.

"S-sorry, I-"

"Yeah, yeah. It's fine, Jihoon, we all know you get a little over excited sometimes," Doyle leaned over the other side of the desk, "Don't mind him, Y/N. You'll learn to tune out his rambling at some point, we've all had to — that, or you'll go crazy."

Doyle turned around after that, throwing a wink over at you that, for some reason, made Jihoon wince.

Yeah, okay. He was a fucking loser, he was well aware. The reminder felt like overkill at this point in his life.

Like a dog with his tails between his legs, Jihoon looked down, giving you one last pathetic 'sorry' before turning away. Not even chancing a single glance your way after Doyle's interruption, he preferred to save himself further embarrassment and left the room altogether. He had done most of his work and lunch was close. Taking an early lunch seemed like the best idea.

Hastily, he grabbed the lunch bag under his desk and walked towards the exit, ears barely registering a faint 'Jihoon' coming from the direction he had just left.

~

Today, he'd chosen to leave the office for lunch.

Well, not really. He'd just stepped outside, finding some empty bench in front of the building to sit at. It wasn't like he could eat at his desk as per usual when everyone else was still there. He just couldn't stay there after being shut down like that in front of you.

All things considered, it hadn't been the most embarrassing thing to happen to him, but it still left him feeling like an absolute loser.

The worst of it all had been that you'd seen it all and hadn't even reacted.

It's not like he had expected you to stand up for him. Hell, you barely knew him. Maybe it was just easiest to engage with the majority; to laugh along when Doyle made a joke, joining in on the muted laughter of all his other coworkers any time Jihoon was used as the butt of some joke.

Except that you didn't laugh. Jihoon didn't even register your reaction before leaving, instead reacting in the same fashion as a toddler throwing a tantrum.

Fuck, you probably thought he was a fucking baby on top of already thinking of him as some defenseless loser. Jihoon wanted to blame it all on Doyle, but it was also his fault.

"Jihoon?"

His train of thought was interrupted by a sudden voice, startling him into squeezing his hands around the unbitten sandwich he'd been holding this whole time.

Turning to the voice, he found you standing there, paper bag in hand as you hesitated walking closer.

When he turned to you, mouth agape in surprise at your sudden appearance, you took a few steps forward, likely taking his silence as an okay. Like a fish out of water, he opened and closed his eyes a few times, unknowing of what to say. He really hadn't expected you to follow him out.

Dropping his sandwich, he cursed at himself. He attempted to catch it, but his hand to eye coordination had never been the best, so it just resulted in him fumbling his hands like an idiot before his sandwich met its demise on the dirty floor.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to catch you off guard," you apologized, rushing to the floor in front of him, squatting in front of him as you picked up his fallen lunch.

"I-It's fine, I-"

"No, Jihoon, I've already ruined your day enough, fuck. And now your lunch is ruined," you sounded genuinely disappointed, "Here, we can share my lunch! I'll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise."

You remained kneeling in front of him as he sat on the bench. Jihoon cringed at knowing your skirt would get dirty at its contact with the floor but you didn't seem to care. Instead, you looked up at him with worry towards him. Your eyebrows were furrowed and your bottom lip stuck out a bit in a small pout. It was both adorable and nerve-wracking.

"Please get up, you'll get your skirt dirty," was all he found himself saying.

Jihoon caught you chuckling under your breath before getting up, dusting your skirt and then taking a seat next to him. The distance you allowed between the two of you was too small for Jihoon's well-being, but a part of him deep down was happy about him.

You looked down at your lap for a bit, so did Jihoon. The two of you were quiet for a few seconds, but Jihoon was unsure why. You appeared to be bashful, perhaps even a little shy? It was strange to see. There was no reason for you to feel shy around Jihoon. He was the mess here. He was the one who should be avoiding eye contact, hiding himself away from you to ensure he didn't ruin things between you — Things, as if the two of you were anything at all. He was overthinking things again.

"Jihoon," you interrupted his train of thought.

"Hmm? Yeah?"

Idiot.

"I, uhm, I'm sorry about what happened back there," you began. Jihoon almost interrupted you, shaking his head and raising his hands to halt you, but you shook your own head, continuing, "I should've said something. I know I'm new, but god, Doyle's such an idiot. You didn't deserve that, especially since it was my fault. I'm really sorry."

Your eyes showed nothing but sincerity as you spoke. A certain worry reflected in your face, making Jihoon's heart soar, crumbling with some sort of guilt he didn't understand.

He had no idea how to react.

"I- I'm sorry," he stuttered, "I didn't- It's not your fault. I didn't mean to make you feel like-"

"What? No, Jihoon, I'm apologizing. You just wanted to help me and I wasn't appreciative. I should've told Doyle to get fucked," you put your lunch bag aside, scooting over a little closer and hesitating a bit before grabbing onto one of his hands, "I'm really sorry. I hope this doesn't hurt our friendship."

"Friendship?"

You flushed at his question, "Yeah, I, uh, aren't we friends? I know it's only been a few days, but-"

"Yes! We're friends, I'm sorry," you gave him a look, "Right, sorry, force of habit. Fuck, okay, I'll stop now," his hand itched in yours as you chuckled at him, "I ... Thank you. It's really nice of you to come check up on me. Don't, uh, feel like you have to stand up for me. Doyle's just ... well, what you said. I wouldn't want you to get picked on too."

"Don't worry about that, Jihoon. He wouldn't do that. He likes me," you revealed casually.

"What?"

"He asked me out last Friday, but I turned him down."

Jihoon's hand tightened around yours without him realizing. That revelation made him feel something he'd never felt before. It was as if his heart dropped while his jaw tightened. It might've been annoyance, but it felt stronger than that. Doyle? Doyle liked you? That bit was not shocking to Jihoon. But the fact that he'd asked you out surprised him. Did he have no care for you as a coworker? You were new, for god's sakes! What you needed was guidance, a friend, a colleague willing to walk you through the work like he needed back when he first started. Yet Doyle was instead choosing to-

"Jihoon? Are you okay?"

Fuck. He'd been rambling internally again. If Jihoon had a nickel for every time he embarrassed himself in front of you ..

"Yeah, uhm, sorry. Just, uh, don't really get along very well with Doyle."

"Can't imagine why," you said sarcastically, "Is there a story behind it?"

Your hand left his own at some point during your conversation, instead going to empty out your paper bag and absentmindedly split the sandwich you had in there. Without saying anything, you offered him a half, smiling in encouragement when he hesitated to take it.

"I, uh, it's nothing. Just dumb workplace drama," he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, "I'm just not too good at standing up for myself."

That sure was a way to downplay it. But Doyle truly wasn't the sole culprit to Jihoon's history with alienation. This had been his entire life. Jihoon had grown far too accustomed to being harassed in every way imaginable. From alienation, to physical beatings, to even having his life threatened, Jihoon had gone through it all. Back in his youth, he wondered if it'd been something he'd done. If maybe he was just unlikable and that was why everyone either avoided him or attempted to make his life even more miserable. As he grew, he began to wonder if perhaps it'd been due to growing up without any proper socialization. His parents had, well, not really existed — something which pained him to think about — which left him sad and alone for most of his upbringing. This was probably why he was never able to properly interact with other people, leaving him as an easy and defenseless target.

It wasn't a secret to Jihoon that he was weird. And even that was an understatement. As a young boy, he was always into things that most people found strange. He was too focused on books and anything that could expand his intellect. This was followed by his incessant need to babble about his niche interests to anyone willing to listen (which was usually no one). He quickly into his teenage years that this was not welcomed by people — usually learning it through patronizing teasing or some classmates taking on physical means to shut him up. Unfortunately, even as an adult, he'd continued to make this mistake, thinking that maybe he'd meet people who enjoyed his eccentric personality without shutting him down. He'd done it at this same job, immediately learning that his input (or his personality in general) were not very well appreciated.

"But that's still not okay, he shouldn't-"

"Hey, it's fine, really," he smiled at you, "It's more than enough that you'd wanna, uh," he hesitated, "that you'd want to be my friend. You know, with all things considered."

"Are you kidding? You're easily the funnest person in the office," you moved past the subject, likely understanding it was a sore spot for him, "Everyone else is kind of stuck up, honestly."

"Hmm, yeah? I can believe that."

He went on to take a bite from the sandwich you'd offered him, humming at finally being able to fulfill some of his hunger.

"What, they're mean to you but you won't even say anything bad about them?" you gaped at him.

He shrugged, "It's not productive. I don't hate them."

"Wow. You're a way better person than I am, Lee Jihoon," you sounded impressed as you said it.

And that was more than good enough for him.

Jihoon's friendship with you continued to flourish during the upcoming months after that.

Any other instance in which Jihoon would've usually cowered under the targeted disdain of his coworkers was instead met with your intervention. You'd usually interrupt, somehow turning the conversation away from him or even subtly shooting back against whoever had decided to snark at Jihoon.

The first few times had him blushing an embarrassing shade of red, stammering as he attempted to respond or even just appear normal at what had just occurred. He'd never experienced someone standing up for him, much less did he feel like he deserved it. Having your presence in such uncomfortable circumstances was more than enough to aid him, but knowing that you wanted to defend him made his heart go crazy.

Within the short time that he'd known you, it was obvious to Jihoon that, against all his attempts to prevent it, he'd developed a crush on you.

Under any other set of circumstances, that might've been fine. However, Jihoon had never in his life been under normal circumstances.

Crushing on you was entirely too terrifying. You were the most perfect girl he'd ever met — the only girl he'd allowed himself to be interested in in far too many years. He knew deep within him that he could not allow these feelings to continue flourishing, but he had never been quite good at burying his emotions.

It felt so high school. All of it. He was the loser outcast and you were the pretty cheerleader the quarterback was chasing after. The only difference was that unlike in high school, you were giving him the time of day.

Back in school, any time Jihoon found himself liking a girl, he was never met with reciprocation. Which was fine, of course. There were a few instances, though, in which it went further than lack of reciprocation, or even just rejection. Jihoon would need more than two hands to count the amount of romantic humiliations he'd undergone in his life.

There had been instances where he was confessed to as a joke, or even times when he was led to believe his feelings were mutual, only to be rejected in some cruel way. It felt like out of a movie at times.

Jihoon supposed he couldn't really blame others for their childish games. He was an easy target, lacking any familial or any sort of adult protection during his youth. Plus, he knew his victimhood was only a phase of these people's lives.

It was strange, however, that staying at the bottom of the totem pole throughout his life just seemed to become normalcy for him. He expected that once he grew, got a respecting job and found more friends that he'd move up in social hierarchy — or at least stop being metaphorically beaten down at every turn (he was at least grateful that the beatings were now metaphorical rather than literal).

You were the complete opposite of him.

In the time he'd known you, he'd come to find out that your life up until now had been nothing short of picture-perfect. You made friends easily in the office, even befriending people outside of your department you had no obligation of interacting with. And this was not new to you. You'd let Jihoon in on your childhood, telling him about your years as a cheerleader in high school, even riding that cheerleader wave all the way to college. Your entire life had been spent happy and surrounded by people who enjoyed your company.

Yet, somehow, your company of choice had become Jihoon.

Being chosen, wanted — even if just platonically — was something Jihoon had never experienced. His brain would override every single time he saw you, attempting both to not fuck things up between you and to leave his crush dormant.

This proved incredibly difficult at times. Any time you subtly stood up for him, or any time you smiled at him before leading him outside for lunch (at the bench that had now become your place. Yours and Jihoon's) together, or even when you'd simply scoot your chair slightly closer to his own during meetings, Jihoon felt himself sink deeper and deeper. His heart and his brain were constantly working against each other.

Tonight would be his hardest battle as of yet.

The two of you had yet to see each other outside of work in the past two months you'd known each other. This was fine to Jihoon. More than fine, actually. It gave him time away from you to recover from the palpitations your mere presence caused him (which required quite a lot of time).

Tonight, however, was the in which night he'd begrudgingly agreed to join you and the rest of your department on a night out.

Apparently these happened every few weeks. Jihoon had never known about them. Figures.

You were an active participant of these outings, usually insisting that Jihoon tag along, that you'd be there and would not leave his side (God help him). He'd even come to find that his friends Soonyoung and Mingyu from accounting would be there. The realization that he was such a hermit that he didn't even know his closest friends hung out outside of work without him did bother him a little.

And so he agreed. Against his better judgment, he let your pout and your wide eyes talk him into going to a bar with people (mostly) he knew hated him.

~

Jihoon had been unsure of how to dress.

When he'd texted Mingyu about it, he'd been met with a three-way call between him, Gyu and Soonyoung celebrating his first social outing in months. And then he'd been berated about showing off his 'assets,' whatever that meant.

Sure, Jihoon knew he was more fit than the average person, but this was something he usually felt shy about. He believed himself to be overcompensating for everything else he lacked in his person, both physical and personality-wise. So, it was safe to say that most of his clothes did not show off his assets.

Still, he made the attempt to follow both Mingyu's and Soonyoung's advice when it came to dressing up. Even if his crush was currently forced down a basement and locked away, he still had some dumb desire of impressing you.

You impressed him every day, whether you meant to or not. There was no dress code at his company, but formal attire was pretty much the norm, and you ... you worked with it quite amazingly, if Jihoon had anything to say. From the pencil skirts to the perfectly tailored dress shirts and blouses, you always left Jihoon working overtime to avert his eyes to more respectable places.

And so today he wanted to impress you. Donning some tighter jeans than usual (to show off his lust-worthy legs, had said Soonyoung) and a dress shirt unbuttoned just enough to give way to his chest (which Mingyu had called 'sculpted to the gods'), Jihoon moved on to his hair. He'd come to realize that unlike most other people, you really liked his hair. You constantly complimented the length and the pale tone of it. Bleaching his hair was something he'd started to do once he graduated college. He wanted some sort of separation away from his hometown when he'd moved away to work at the company, and despite the constant negative feedback, he'd decided to keep it.

He opted to let it down tonight, diffusing it after washing it to ensure some volume and a slight wave to it.

He looked fine, he thought. Jihoon didn't have any particular positive opinion about his appearance, but at least he'd gone from thinking himself a hideous hermit to simply okay. But according to Mingyu and Soonyoung, who'd offered to drive him, he looked like sex waiting to happen.

Blushing, Jihoon was unsure as to whether he wanted that to come true or not.

~

The hardest part had been arriving at the bar.

You were the first person he spotted as he and his friends walked in. The place was packed with members of your office, people he'd only seen in passing as he made his way over to his floor gathered with coworkers he wished he didn't know as well as he did.

But all of that left his mind immediately upon registering it. You were his priority. And everyone else's it seemed. Various men in your vicinity had their eyes on you, Doyle included.

Jihoon couldn't blame them. How in the world could he when you looked like that?

You were completely ignorant to any of the attention you were receiving. Standing by the bar, you were nursing a drink, leaning your body against it and giving Jihoon (and everyone else) the perfect view of your form. The slip dress you were wearing was shorter than the usual skirts you wore at school, allowing your legs to receive the well-deserved attention of anyone willing to appreciate the beauty before them.

This was the most skin Jihoon had seen of you. It made him feel like a depraved pervert to stand there and just stare, but he was hypnotized. The fleeting thought of getting to do more than just see passed through his mind, sending shivers down his spine. He had to shake his head to remove any filthier thoughts from entering his mind. He felt embarrassed and idiotic involving you in such thoughts. A sad, lonely virgin using his one and only female friend to feed himself with such thoughts was incredibly sick and deprived and-

"Dude, stop drooling. You haven't even said hi yet."

Mingyu nudged at him, breaking him away from his trance at once. Jihoon shook his head again to reset, coughing awkwardly as he attempted to negate what Mingyu had said, only to be interrupted by the other guy he'd arrived with.

"You look like sex on legs, man. Go talk to her. We'll go find a table. Come find us if you fuck everything up somehow," Soonyoung received a swift punch to his shoulder at his comment, but shrugged it off as he gave Jihoon thumbs up, walking away with Mingyu.

Taking a deep breath, Jihoon walked over to you, finding you still distracted by your drink.

Before he could even announce his presence, you sensed him, turning back and immediately offering him a wide smile. Good, you were happy to see him.

"Jihoon!," you left your drink on the counter to engage with him in a hug. His arms hovered over your waist, avoiding direct contact both for his sanity and out of respect.

Physical contact had never been Jihoon's forte. Usually he'd need some sort of warning ahead of time in order to mentally prepare himself. When it came to you, he so badly wanted his proclivity against physical touch to burn and die in a fire. He found himself craving your hug the moment you pulled away.

"I honestly thought you wouldn't come," you chuckled.

"I promised I'd come," he smiled back.

"C'mon, let's get you a drink. On me," you turned back to the bar, flagging down the bartender before turning back to him, "You don't seem like a big drinker. Is a beer okay?", he nodded at you as you handed him the drink.

The two of you leaned against the bar after that, letting silence between you consume you. Jihoon wasn't sure what to say. This was the first time he'd seen a girl outside of work in ... well, ever. And it wasn't just any girl — it was you.

"You look beautiful," he braved, finishing it off with an awkward cough.

Your body turned to his, a shy smile being hidden behind a lip bite, "Yeah? High compliment coming from you."

"H-hmm?"

"Jihoon, you look amazing," you emphasized, "I had no idea you were hiding all this under those baggy suits," your hands went to play with the neck of his collar, "Maybe unbutton it one more?", you said as you did so, "There, that's better."

Jihoon burned up. A tomato's red shade could not compare to how red his ears must've been at that moment. He flushed, breath hitching at your fingers gracing the skin of his chest. All he could do was clear his throat and advert his eyes, awkwardly smiling and nodding at you.

"You're cute," you giggled.

"Uhm, are you drunk?", he couldn't help in asking.

You giggled again, "I'm not, Jihoon. Is it that hard to believe I find you cute? Because you are. I don't know how you don't realize. You've been getting eye-fucked by those girls over there since you walked in," you pointed behind him, leading him to find two girls attempting at subtly looking his way, whispering among each other.

"O-oh, uhm, I'm sure that's not what they're doing," he stumbled, flushed.

"Uh-huh. Anyways, c'mon. I hate hanging out at the bar. Let's find a table," you grabbed onto his wrist then, pulling him towards the back of the bar.

On his way to the table of your choosing, he spotted his two friends, receiving a childish thumbs up from Soonyoung and a mouthed 'my man!' from Mingyu. He groaned internally, shaking his head and frowning at them. Once you made it to an empty table, you even commented on it.

"Those are Soonyoung and Mingyu, right? I'd never actually met them before. Come here with them?"

"Oh, yeah. I- ignore them, they're just being dumb," he scoffed lightly.

His hands laid flat on the table, unknowing of what to do with them. Your demeanor was way more relaxed than his own. It was clear to anyone around that you could blend into any environment. Jihoon, in the meantime, had trouble adjusting practically anywhere, especially at a social pool such as a bar.

"It's fine, Jihoonie, they're just rooting for you," you winked at him before enveloping the straw of your own drink in your mouth.

Jihoon decided not to overthink that (or maybe save it for later), also swinging at his own drink to avoid more awkward words leaving his mouth. He wasn't even sure why he was being such a socially inept mess. The two of you had had long-winded conversations at work many times before, maybe it was just the current setting. It felt the way he assumed a date would, except that it wasn't.

"Hmm, can I have a sip? My drink's too sweet. Here, have a taste," you went to grab at his beer, shoving your pink drink to his side of the table.

Looking down at the straw, he noticed the red shimmer of your lipstick on it, gulping at the thought of letting his lips touch it. But before he could psych himself out, he did it.

Before actually sipping at the drink, he allowed himself taste the lipstick. It was a sick and depraved thing to do, but he couldn't help himself. If this was as much of you as he could have, then he'd take it. The cherry tang it left on his lips made it worth it, but he couldn't let himself to enjoy it for too long. The drink itself had been entirely too sweet, causing his nose to scrunch up, which immediately earned a giggle from across the table.

"Sweet, huh? I should've gone for a beer, but I figured you wouldn't mind sharing," you shrugged as you took another swing of it, handing it back afterwards.

Now his eyes landed on his own beer bottle, eyeing that same glimmer on the mouth of the bottle. Without thinking of it, he took an swing of it, dropping the bottle too harshly back on the table before looking back at you. There, his eyes couldn't help but finding your lips. He tried being subtle, but he seemed to be lacking that skill at the moment.

"Oh, is my lipstick smudged?," your hand went up to your mouth. You fished your purse for a compact mirror and a set of two tubes, smiling at him before beginning to reapply, "It's such a hassle. That's why I never wear darker lip products at work," you said mostly to yourself. Then, you turned to him, plumping your lips before smiling, "How's it look?"

There was absolutely no way you weren't hitting on him. Jihoon may have been an absolute idiot when it came to any social interaction, but he was sure you'd been hinting at something all night. Right?

This was the perfect moment for him to flirt back. To compliment you, to woo you and make his interest known. If any moment was tailored for such a thing, it was this one. Jihoon just needed to grow some balls for once and be assertive.

However, that is not what he did.

Instead of coming up with some charming one-liner, Jihoon instead stumbled over his words, delivering a mixture of 'uhm, yea!' and 'looks great!,' completely emotionless while also awkward.

Fortunately for Jihoon, all you did was giggle in return. It sometimes felt both demeaning and like a relief when you'd giggle in return to his awkwardness. He hoped to elicit different reactions out of you, but that fault fell completely on him.

You eyed the bar behind him, causing him to turn back. There was a small area that was supposed to make up a dancefloor. This wasn't exactly a club, but the dancing scene appeared pretty turned up. Jihoon could even spot his two friends on the dancefloor with some girls unknown to him.

When his head turned back to face you, you smiled at him, opening your mouth to speak. Jihoon could see where this was going.

"Hey, Jihoon. Wanna dance with me?"

You were grinning as you asked. That overexcitement that was usually present on your face was there once more. Disappointing you with a rejection was the very last thing Jihoon wanted to do. It was literally how he'd ended up out tonight.

But, still, his idiocy knew no limits, apparently.

"Oh, uh, I- I don't dance," he stammered, "Sorry."

He went back to nursing his drink, eyes avoiding yours and closing off from further questions. When he looked back up, he was mortified to find some dejection in your eyes.

He needed to salvage this. He was a good enough dancer. He had no idea why he'd even said no in the first place.

"I, uh, actually, I could-"

"Hey, beautiful. If he won't dance, I'll take you out for a spin. I'll give her back in a bit, Jihoon, don't worry."

Jihoon's abrupt interruption was, of course, delivered by Doyle. Why he had been close enough to make out your conversation, Jihoon had no idea. It irritated him, though. That was for damn sure.

Jihoon knew you wouldn't say yes to him. After the endless lunch breaks you'd spent together, you'd become privy to Doyle's treatment of Jihoon. And although you never once actually acted on the negative feelings that had inspired against Doyle, you had still expressed to Jihoon how much such things had dampened your view of him.

What Jihoon hadn't considered, though, had been the very frustrating concept of peer pressure making an appearance.

A few other coworkers at a nearby table started to instigate, encouraging you to go join Doyle. Claims that he was a great dancer and that you'd look good out there together were thrown around. Each comment made Jihoon sink more and more into his seat. At some point, one of the girls in your neighboring cubicles even walked over to you, grabbing your hand to further encourage you to accept Doyle's offer.

You appeared troubled. From Jihoon to Doyle to the girls, you looked back and forth, mouth opening and closing without an actual response leaving you. An uncomfortable smile was on your lips the entire time.

It was obvious to Jihoon you simply did not want to leave him to his own devices. You'd promised so, after all. So he decided to take you out of your misery.

Getting up, he cleared his throat, "Go ahead. I, uh, I'll just go hang out with Gyu and Soon. I kinda ditched them earlier."

He added a little white lie to really sell it. His friends wanted him to stay with you, but he didn't want to force you to not have fun. He had his chance, twice, and stupidly missed it.

"See? Jihoon's busy. This isn't really his scene anyway. C'mon," and so Doyle managed to pull you away.

As you walked away, you turned back to Jihoon, but he was faster. You mentioned going to find him after you were done, but Jihoon tuned it out. Walking away in order to get to his friends, he could hear a short exchange between a few comments made by some coworkers. They weren't anything new, but they still bothered him at this moment.

"They'd made such a cute couple, huh?"

"Yeah! I heard Y/N was head cheerleader in high school. Doyle used to be a quarterback. It's literally like fanfiction."

"Yeah. Jihoon, though ... I don't think that'd work. He's too fucking awkward."

"A bit of a weirdo too. She's out of his league."

And then he was out of earshot.

He found Soonyoung sitting by some table near the entrance quick enough, he thanked god for that. He needed to at least not be alone right now.

"Dude! What are you doing here? What happened to your girl?", Soonyoung was quick to question.

Jihoon shrugged, taking a seat dejectedly.

"Oh, shit, man. I'm sorry," Soonyoung caught on, patting Jihoon on the back, "What happened?"

Jihoon simply gestured north of him, directing Soonyoung's eyes to the dancefloor you were currently at. You'd quickly warmed up to the mood, a smile gracing your face as you danced along with a few of the girls from the office. The silver lining was that you weren't actually dancing with Doyle as originally intended, but rather dancing near him. Still, Jihoon could see Doyle occasionally make his way to you and try to subtly get you to dance with him.

"Fuck. It's that asshole Doyle, huh? I'm sorry, man."

"What happened?", Mingyu suddenly showed up, sweaty and out of breath.

"That dick Doyle took Hoonie's girl," this was met with a frown and an expletive from Mingyu.

"She's not my girl. She's not my anything," Jihoon grumbled, "I think I'll just go home."

Getting up, he was stopped by Mingyu, pleading he stay and have fun. Similar complaints were given by Soonyoung. But neither were enough for Jihoon to want to stay. He'd been an idiot and done nothing to even try and match your energy. It was no wonder you left at the first chance you had.

"I only came to hang out with her," Jihoon sighed sadly, "I'll just see you guys next weekend, okay? Have fun without me."

He hugged each goodbye, disregarding their pouts and heading out. He didn't bother looking back, not wanting to sadden himself even more.

"You're lying to me."

Both Mingyu and Soonyoung stared at Jihoon like puppies awaiting a treat. Their metaphorical tails were practically wagging. It was unnerving. Especially because of the subject at hand.

Jihoon had decided to take the Monday off. He'd decided to grovel over what happened. After what happened last night, he felt like a complete loser facing you at work. Like an idiot, he'd let his feelings get all muddled and made himself believe that maybe you had some interest in him. Only to immediately fuck things up and leave you alone with the guy who was his literal antithesis. Not only that, but he'd left you there without even saying goodbye despite having agreed to be there for the sole reason of being with you.

After four o'clock, Jihoon should've known that his two nosey friends would come find him. It was rare for Jihoon to miss work, so their sudden knocking a few hours after clocking out was predictable.

However, they'd been the ones to shock Jihoon. They had shit-eating grins when he'd let them in. They'd managed to sit through a quick lunch prepared by Jihoon before spilling what had them in such an annoying mood.

"Dude, she came looking for you after you left," had said Mingyu.

"She looked sad as fuck when we told her you left! Then today when you didn't show up to work, she-" then Soonyoung was interrupted by an overexcited Mingyu.

"She asked us for your address, dude! Came all the way to accounting all shy and shit and asked if we thought it'd be okay if you stopped by," Mingyu had finished.

Jihoon spent a few minutes in surprised silence after that. The belief that they were playing a prank on him was the most logical to him.

"Dude, we're not lying!," Soonyoung exclaimed, nudging Mingyu so he'd confirm his statement.

"Yeah, she said she'd stop by in a few hours. We had to clock out early to come warn you."

"You clocked out early cause you hate working," Jihoon rebutted."

"Okay, two things can be true at once."

"Anyways, she'll be here at any moment. So you should doll yourself up for her. I have no idea what she may want, but-"

Mingyu interrupted this time, "Are you kidding? They're gonna fuck. It's going to be a k-drama moment and then they'll seal the deal."

Soonyoung made an O face and gave Gyu a high-five. The children in front of Jihoon were beginning to drive him insane. And usually he would've scolded them, but their words were making him too anxious to think.

Suddenly, Jihoon got up, ushering them out.

"Okay, get the hell out of here. I need to be ready for her, fuck. Fuck. I should've just gone to work today, I'm such an idiot," he groaned to himself, beginning to pick up their plates so he could tidy up the place a bit.

"Dude, calm down. It'll be fine. Clearly she cares if she's coming to check up on you after just one day of you being gone," Soonyoung reasoned, "Whatever happened to a phone call anyway?"

"This is the romantic way to do it, Soon, c'mon."

Mingyu shrugged in agreement, now dragging Soonyoung along with him towards the exit. Their goodbyes were as prolonged as per usual, but Jihoon was eventually able to get them out of his apartment.

Jihoon rushed to make the place as tidy as possible, even fixing himself up as best as he could whilst also looking casual. The hardest hurdle was coming up with non-pathetic reasons as to why he'd left in such a rush last night and why he had skipped work altogether.

How was he supposed to explain that he was a sensitive, good for nothing, pathetic, loser piece of-

But there was a knock before he could even finish a single thought.

He knew who was on the other side, even if he tried to will you away by purely praying to get himself out of this situation.

"Jihoon? I know you're in there," you called out from outside, "I saw Mingyu and Soonyoung leave work early today. I assume they came over to warn you I'd be coming."

Fuck, you were too smart.

There were too many good things about you. And Jihoon would've loved nothing more than to take a few hours to think about all those things, but he had your actual presence to deal with at that moment.

With a deep breath, he walked over to the door, opening it and finding you standing on the other side of it. You were still wearing your usual office ensemble, meaning you'd come directly from work.

"Jihoon," you breathed out. There was a mixture of relief and worry in your tone.

"Uhm, come in," he moved aside to allow you in.

Naturally, the two of you moved over to the couch, rushing to the kitchen really quick to get you a drink — one he, of course, knew by memory from the months in which he'd known you.

"So, uh, what's up?", he cleared his throat.

"Jihoon," you put down the coffee cup he'd handed you, shifting your body on the couch to face him, "I'm really sorry about last night," you began, "I promised I'd stay with you and then I left when I really should've said no to Doyle and all the girls."

He wasn't fully facing you, but he could still perceive how apologetic you were. It made him feel like an asshole to be the cause of this. Why did he have to be so damn sensitive?

"It's not your fault, it's-"

You went to grab his hand from his lap, mirroring that first time you'd followed him outside back when you'd barely started working with him. Physical touch always made him anxious, but it was a good type of anxiety when it came to you.

"No, Jihoon, it is," you reaffirmed, hesitating to continue.

A sort of shy look overtook your face, drawing your eyes away from him for the first time since your arrival. You even let go of his hand, acting as if you'd been shocked you even took it in the first place. A small 'sorry' left your lips before you continued speaking.

"And I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night with all my, uh, flirting," you swallowed, "I know you don't see me that way. I guess it was just the whole, uh, vibe? that made me feel like it was okay, but I won't do it again, I promise. I want to respect your boundaries. I didn't think you'd end up skipping out of work because of me. Fuck, I feel like a terrible friend."

Jihoon could do nothing but watch in horror as you spoke.

Every word that left your lips was more wrong than the previous. You'd misunderstood everything. But then again, Jihoon had not communicated his interest at all. You had no way of knowing that he liked you or that he'd been hoping against all hope that he hadn't misinterpreted your advances.

There was one last chance presenting itself in front of Jihoon. This was his last and only chance to set things straight. To grow some balls and risk it when he told you that he reciprocated any feelings you may have had for him — and tenfold.

But he stayed quiet, gulping when you sat there with an equally horrified look on your face. It was likely due to his silence, yet his body was still frozen.

"Uhm, Jihoon, I- I don't know what else to say. I'm sorry, I-"

"Will you go out with me?"

It had been said so suddenly that Jihoon didn't even register he'd been the one to say it. He hadn't planned to say that, especially so suddenly. It was as much a shock go him as it must've been to you. Surely his face matched yours, which consisted of wide eyes and an agape mouth. The shock was entirely mutual.

"What?"

Jihoon flushed, gulping and looking at his lap. His heart was practically beating out of his chest. This was the most daring thing he'd done in years, and its effects were manifesting physically. Sweaty palms, rumbling stomach, eyes burning, he had it all.

But at least it was out there now.

"I, uhm, I wanted to know if you'd want to go out with me?," he tried again, pathetically adding a quiet 'please' afterwards.

"Jihoon, what? You like me?"

The way you asked made it sound like it was the most shocking thing you'd heard in your life. That in itself made his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

He decided to start from the beginning. And this time he was the one to grab your hand.

"I was okay with everything you did or said last night. Trust me. I was just a coward. I was especially a coward when you asked me to dance. I wanted to say yes- I should've said yes. But instead, I let that idiot take you and- and when I saw you having fun, with- with him, I just left like an idiot. I'm sorry I left just like that. It wasn't you. It was me, I swear," he rambled on a single breath, "I do, uhm, I do like you. A lot. An embarrassing amount, really," he chuckled to himself, "And if you'd still be willing, I'd, uh, I'd really like to take you out on a date."

Eye contact had never been Jihoon's forte, and much less in an instance such as this. His eyes remained on his lap, altogether avoiding even daring look in your general direction. But eventually came the time in which he had to look your way to try and gauge your reaction.

Looking up at you, he believed to see horror in your eyes. The very last thing he could've ever wanted to provoke in you.

This was it. This was yet another rejection. Another humiliation leading up to social ruin. His one and only friend in his department would seize to want any sort of relationship with him and it was all because he misread a situation yet again and acted like a socially inept idiot.

"I, I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"I didn't know you liked me," you interrupted.

"Huh?"

"God, Jihoon, I had no idea you liked me back, what? This is crazy. I thought I fucked everything up," you let out a humorless chuckle.

"What?"

Now he was confused. Now he was the one with horror in his eyes.

'Back'?

"Sorry," you chuckled, scooting closer to him, "I like you. I assumed it was obvious and that you were just having a hard time letting me down easy," and with that, you blew his mind.

Jihoon sat there, mouth agape and eyebrows scrunched together in absolute shock. Things could not have turned more different than he'd ever imagined.

Yet he still felt like he was being played. Such things had happened in his past. Fake confessions, tricks of the mind, you name it. As much as Jihoon liked you, his past experiences screamed deep within him to back away, to not fall for it.

And then you grabbed his hand again, scooting even closer. There was a look of understanding in your eyes.

"I'm sorry," you began, "I'm not lying Jihoon, I really do like you."

Before he could ask what you meant, you continued.

"I, uhm, talked to Mingyu yesterday — I asked him not to mention it to you. He told me some stuff about your childhood," you paused, waiting for the solemn nod he gave you to continue. He tensed, leading you to squeeze his hand, "I know there's been some stuff in your past. We didn't get into details, but I promise I'm being genuine. I like you. And if you really do like me back, I'd love to go on that date with you."

Jihoon hadn't processed your proximity until this moment. He'd been too focused on the possibility of this being another ruse, another way to break him down just because of his social ineptitude. But now that his brain was working again, it immediately malfunctioned once more as he realized what was happening.

Not only had you admitted your own feelings and accepted his invitation, but you were far too close for anything other than a kiss to occur. If your proximity didn't give it away, your eyes did. Zeroed in on his lips, they occasionally made their way back to his eyes as if asking for silent permission.

And for once in his life, Jihoon was daring. Jihoon took the first step without fear of fucking things up.

As pathetic as it'd be to admit out loud, the very first touch of your lips was life-changing for Jihoon. There'd been one or two kisses in his life, all filled with instant embarrassment or simply being nothing to write home about.

Yet this kiss was devastating. It was a testament to everything he'd ever fantasized about yet convinced himself he'd never have. It was soft and barely there at first, but the quiet sound you let against his lips was all he needed to lose his mind.

Before he could pull away, shy, bashful, you pulled him back in, opening your lips and welcoming him to do the same.

Your tongues met in the middle before Jihoon completely surrendered to you. He didn't even try to put up a fight. It was unnecessary. All he wanted was your kiss, to fall victim to anything you wanted to take and give him.

A shaky breath was let out into your lips. It felt as if his body was vibrating. The immense nerves he usually felt in social situations and all their physical symptoms were present, but it was all too different than usual. They were accompanied by a burning in his stomach.

Jihoon knew this to be arousal. Frankly, it was a pathetic realization — to feel such things with a simple kiss. But it wasn't any kiss. It was you. It was your tongue in his mouth, your hands making their way to his hair, your soft sounds muffled with his own.

"N-no, not yet. Please," he found himself pleading when you pulled away to breathe.

And he almost cried when you moaned at his pleading before trapping him in another kiss, just as heavy as the last.

Jihoon was in over his head. He could barely follow along. Could barely please you with his own lips. He was defeated by you, too high on lust to be a worthy opponent. And god, he couldn't even let himself begin to think about what was going on in his pants at that moment.

"Jihoon," you breathed.

You'd learned your lesson from last time, it seemed. Instead of attempting to pull away, you licked at his lips, keeping a nonexistent distance between you.

"What do you want?", you asked, "What do you want from me? I'll give you anything you ask for."

His mind couldn't wrap itself around that statement. He wanted everything. His body was burning and his mind was reeling. Never in his life had he come close to feeling like this.

It had been many years since he'd settled for his life. No more hopes or dreams for love, for anything grander out of life. The concept of physical touch or any sort of pleasure had left the picture quickly into college. All he'd ever known had been senseless fantasies of what could be but would never be.

Yet now he sat here, prettiest girl he'd ever seen looking into his eyes — eyes heavy with lust that made him have to use all his strength to not cry and moan and whine at the effect he seemingly had on you. Did you like stupid losers with nothing to offer? Because he was the perfect candidate.

And his eyes dropped to your lips again, almost as if there was some sort of pull towards you that he could not control. Even while knowing all other forms of pleasure he could beg for, he needed to kiss you again.

"Nghn, I- Kiss, I wanna kiss you. Please? I wanna-"

His begging didn't last long, soon interrupted by something he could barely call a kiss. It was wet and messy, teeth clanking and tongues suckling at each other. Sounds of pleasure shamelessly left both your lips and your bodies got closer to one another.

The next thing to blow his mind was your body, which soon made its way to straddle his own. From this angle, you were slightly above him, now ensuring you had all the control — though that was met with no complaints from him.

His usually shy hands were forced onto your hips by your own before yours went back to running through his hair. They were liberal, your hands, in exploring him. When your lips trailed down to his neck, exploring and quickly finding his weakest spots, your hands went to his shirt, reaching under it and exploring the bare skin underneath.

"I want you, Jihoon. Do you want me too?," you whispered into his ear, teeth softly pulling at the lobe.

Jihoon couldn't think, couldn't breathe. His mind was a chorus of yesyesyes, too broken to actually respond.

"Want you, p-please. Anything ... You can do anything, just-"

Everything cut off then. Your touch, your lips on his skin, your weight on his lap.

But it was replaced by you pulling him towards the door leading into his bedroom, quickly assessing the room before pushing him onto the bed.

He was pliable under your touch. He'd be a boneless doll if necessary. Anything you wanted was yours — Jihoon was yours.

The empty weight of his lap only lasted a few seconds before you filled it back up, hands once again finding his shoulders. He felt shy under your gaze, especially knowing you could probably feel the hardness beneath you.

"I've never ... I know it's probably obvious, but I, uhm ..."

"That's okay, Jihoonie," your hand went to his cheek, soft in caressing it, "We don't have to do anyth-"

"No!", he suddenly interrupted. He became bashful when he realized how sudden and loud he'd been, "I mean, uhm, I want to. I really want to. Please."

You sighed, "So polite, Jihoonie. Bet you're going to be so good to me, aren't you?", you said almost to yourself.

Jihoon swore his dick twitched at your words. There was nothing in this world he wanted more than to be good for you. He needed you to tell him how nice and how good he was. Nothing would ever compare to being the giver of your pleasure.

He nodded numbly, mouth agape as you leaned down.

But instead of kissing him as he'd expected, the hand on his cheek shifted. Your thumb graced at his bottom lip as you watched intently. Jihoon's body reacted on its own. He needed no direction to open his mouth the tiny bit necessary to let your thumb in, suckling softly without needles any further direction from you.

This caused you to groan, which in turn made him moan. He'd never been one to have any sort of creative fantasies. Any time he allowed himself to think about sex, it was all pretty cut and dry, usually involving some faceless girl that he knew would never manifest herself into real life.

But now he had a girl — a girl he was completely infatuated by. And she had her thumb in his mouth, looking at him like he was the manifestation of her lust.

Jihoon didn't know what to do with you. You were too much for him to deal with, too much for him to function properly. He'd never imagined himself having to will himself into not cumming due to a pretty girl's thumb in his mouth, but in this moment there was nowhere else he would've preferred be.

And then you pulled your thumb away, earning yourself an embarrassing whine from him. He almost had it in him to complain, to whine and ask for you to give it back. He wanted to provide, to give you something back. But instead, you kissed him again, this time using your hands to unclothe him in the midst of the messy kiss.

Somehow he ended up shirtless, with his pants removed and sitting there with mere boxers while you sat atop him, still fully clothed. Yet he didn't have it in him to complain. If this day was full of you doing whatever you desired with his body, allowing him not a single touch of yours, he'd take it. He'd be willing to take anything you gave him. He'd beg if necessary.

"God, you're gorgeous. How do you not have a line waiting to get their turn with you?", there was a hint of frustration in your voice. It was as if the sight made you angry, like it made you so frustrated you couldn't hold back. Cuteness aggression but replaced with lust. Jihoon couldn't comprehend having such an effect on someone, much less you.

"I, uhm, I don't-"

He had no idea how to respond to your praise. But thankfully, you didn't give him enough time to muster out some pathetic response, instead opting to kiss him again, hands feeling up every available inch of skin.

You pushed him up on the bed, silently encouraging him to scoot up so he could lay down with your body still straddling his own. This felt more intimate. Jihoon knew where it was leading, he'd imagined being in this position once or twice, but never pictured it'd be anything like this.

"Is this okay?", you asked once your hands went to his chest, softly tracing shapes in it in a way Jihoon wasn't sure was supposed to be teasing or if he was just so touch-starved that it felt euphoric to him.

"Yeah, I, oh, fuck, yes, just ..."

He found his answer when your hands went to his nipples, circling them softly before pinching and pulling at them with your fingers, shutting him up before he could even make out a single sentence. It only became worse when you lowered your head, mouth meeting one nipple while the other remained engaged by your hand.

Sensitivity on his chest was not something he was aware of. There were likely countless things he was into but had never managed to explore. But Jihoon decided in that moment that what he was into was you. Every touch, every kiss, every look, every word. He held onto every single one and sighed into them, losing himself in the process and- fuck.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

Any further exploration of his mind halted at that moment. The moment in which your hips joined in on the fun. They ground against his own shyly at first, testing the waters. His hands gripped at your hips helplessly, almost as if attempting to hold onto his remaining sanity.

The worst part was when you reacted to it. Enjoying the feeling that first rock of your hips gave you, you continued, whining into his mouth as your hips sped up. Your hands gripped at his shoulders, though they occasionally felt up at his arms and chest, clawing at the muscle there and ensuring to leave your mark.

Jihoon was on fire. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. All he could do was pathetically whine into your lips, silently begging for you to never stop, for you to make him forget himself.

"Please, oh fuck, pl-please don't stop. It's so- good, oh ..."

"God, keep talking like that," you groaned.

Fuck. Of course you liked him pathetic and whiny. Of course you were turned on by it. It created a never ending cycle of you doing whatever you wanted to him and him crying like a needy loser, only causing you to double down. It was heaven and hell. Jihoon's body was in overdrive.

"You're gonna make me cum, you- fuck, don't stop, I need- shit, please."

His voice was unrecognizable now. Jihoon didn't know which dimension he was in anymore.

Until it all halted.

Your movements ended, and the weight on his crotch left him. A pathetic whine came from his lips at this, but he was too needy to feel embarrassed.

Before he could get up and kneel, begging at your feet to continue (something which he'd truly do if he wasn't to embarrassed by the thought), you made your way back to him, though this time Jihoon felt an unexpected warmth on him. A warmth accompanied by sticky wetness. It took Jihoon a few seconds to realize what was sitting on him, but when it dawned on him, it destroyed him.

Daring to open his eyes and look up at you, he found you flushed. Your face looked warm and your expression was far too lustful for him to handle. What caught his attention the most, though, was your sudden nudity. His brain could not process it, the sight of you in complete nudity, sitting on his cock with a single layer of his damned boxers intervening.

The sight went beyond his imagination. Goosebumps formed on every inch of his skin, and even his hardness twitched under you in a manner so pathetic it shocked even himself. The image above him would haunt him for the rest of his life, especially as he laid there unknowing of what to do with himself, of how to respond to such a sight.

And then you responded for him.

You grasped his hands, taking them away from your hips and bringing them up to your chest. Naturally, they engulfed your breasts, a groan leaving his lips at their weight in his palms.

"Like this, baby. Just touch me however you want," you encouraged with a breathy sigh.

"You're so pretty, fuck," he groaned again.

It caused you to giggle, biting your lip when his hands began to fondle you, playing with your nipples in the way you'd played with his earlier.

Your hips began moving again, though this time it was hotter, more desperate. You became frustrated with the friction quickly enough, digging into his boxers and pulling him out. Jihoon cried out at this, eyes rolling back at your hold.

After a few experimental tugs at his dick, you let go, letting it fall back against his stomach and taking a seat on it. Not putting him in yet, you began sliding against the length of it, letting your warm wetness grind against it in a manner so filthy it had Jihoon's head throwing back into the mattress.

"God, I wanna fuck you so bad," you groaned, "You'll feel so good, I already know it."

It was like you wanted to kill him. But Jihoon knew it was the mindless lust speaking. Which only made it all the worse for him. His incidental effect on you drove him crazy.

"Please, I- I want it," he cried.

But you decided to kill him some more.

"How bad?", you whispered into his ear, movements not halting.

If you wanted him to beg, to become a pathetic whiny mess as he pleaded for a single touch, he would. He had no pride when it came to you.

"So bad, you ... you don't understand. I need it. I need to feel it so badly."

But god, you were so mean. So terribly mean and wicked to him. Simple begging would not do, Jihoon realized. You wanted more.

"Need to feel what?", your hips sped up, the friction half-killing Jihoon.

"Your ... your, fuck," he gulped, "Your pussy. Please."

You moaned and then giggled, separating your cunt from his dick in order to create some distance. Sneaking between your bodies, your hand grabbed onto his hardness, sitting yourself up on your knees so you could align him to your cunt.

His tip was at your cunt, forced to circle at it by your hand as you teased both yourself and him. The warmth begging to wrap around his head made him delirious. Nothing had ever felt as good. There was no comparable experience.

"N-no condom?", he willed himself to ask.

"I'm on birth control. So if it's okay with you ...", you trailed off, chuckling when he nodded desperately at you.

You continued to tease yourself with his dick, gasping at the feeling of his tip against your clit as he twitched in your hand. The teasing was killing him, though it was too pleasurable for him to beg for anything else.

"God, Jihoon, I can already tell you're gonna feel so good, baby," you practically whined, "I'm gonna fuck you so good, angel. Just you wait."

And then your welcomed him in. In a slow descent, you lowered yourself on him, crying out his name once he was finally bottomed out.

Under you, Jihoon lost his soul. It was too warm, too wet, too perfect for him to react. His brain clocked out for the day, leaving him a hollow body meant for nothing but receiving pleasure. That orgasmic feeling of, well, an orgasm, was approaching far too quickly. Jihoon could feel his body contract on itself, insisting at him to let go, to give himself up to you.

But he persisted. The sight above him — the pretty girl with her eyes rolled back and her arched back causing her to press up impossibly close against him — had his body begging for just a few more moments to enjoy the endless pleasure you were currently giving him.

"'m gonna move now, okay, baby? Feel so good already, shit. So full," you sighed.

Your hands settled on his chest, palms pressed against it as you began to bounce. Sometimes you'd bounce, sometimes you'd grind. It was all too deliriously good for Jihoon to realize the exact science behind it.

If everything that came before had led him to this moment, he'd happily go through it all again. Nothing in his life could compare to this, to the intimacy, the closeness he felt to you at this moment. He had to do nothing but cry tears of pleasure under you, taking every bounce, ever rock of your hips, every kiss and every word of praise in his direction. If he had to go back to the lonely, hellish life he lived before just in exchange for this very moment, he'd beg for the chance.

But Jihoon didn't need to be as fatalist anymore. Not when you kept whining his name, when your eyes were crossed and your breasts were bouncing above him in a demonstration of your incessant need for him.

"Baby, give ... give me your hand," you suddenly moaned. Your hips sped up, clearly driving yourself to your orgasm and surely dragging him along with you.

He followed your instruction, just as his brain had been programed. He gave you his hand, groaning when you placed it at your cunt, silently instructing for his knuckle to bend and dig at your clit. You tightened impossibly harder at that and fuck, it was too good. It was too tight, too wet, too filthy as your moans heightened in pitch.

And Jihoon truly wanted to warn you. He wanted to tell you and come right alongside you, but his poor virginal body could only take so much before breaking. It was an impossible task to hold back and await for your own pleasure to join his. But god was it mind-blowing.

He'd orgasmed before. Alone, cold in his room, feeling pathetic due to his lack of possibility at romance, knowing he'd never find a girl to look at him with anything but apathy. Yet here you were, whispering filthy words into his ear, encouraging his orgasm with a hint of mischief in your tone as your orgasm interrupted your words.

You were evil, Jihoon realized.

Above him, you made a show of your high, providing him with a view that would surely ruin him for life. Your hands let go of his body, instead choosing to fondle with your own, putting aside your own orgasmic experience to instead destroy any last bit of sanity left in him (which truly was not much — likely in the negatives by now). Your face was one that Jihoon would tattoo in his memory, bringing back up again and again in order to finish himself off in the many lonely nights to come — he couldn't help his fatalistic way of believing this might be a one and only type of situation.

It felt endless, so endless that the pleasure was almost painful. But Jihoon could still categorically asses this as one of the best experiences of his long years on this earth.

The low after the high was still blissful. Jihoon had heard of 'post-nut' clarity, with it being sold as a negative after such a high. Yet Jihoon felt nothing but bliss as you disconnected from him and dropped to lay at his side, wordless as you intertwined your bodies and stole body heat from him (which, really, he was more than happy to give).

Jihoon was unsure of what to say, but the smile you gave him said enough for the two of you. It was a silent exchange of affection that Jihoon never thought he'd be on the receiving end of.

"Maybe skipping work today was a good idea," you joked after some silence.

His eyebrows lifted. Understatement of the year.

You laughed and nuzzled further. He must've said it out loud. Well, the effect was nice, so he had no complaints.

"We're going to have to visit HR first thing tomorrow morning," you groaned into his chest, seemingly unable to help yourself in pressing kisses there. Jihoon felt too loved.

"Hmm?"

But he was still half-dead.

"I'll wanna jump you as soon as I see you tomorrow morning. I won't be able to be discreet," you joked.

"You wanna, uhm, be official?", he risked in asking.

He wanted to slap himself. You'd given no indication of changing your mind about him. This fatalism was something he really needed to work on.

"Yes, you idiot. God, Jihoon. We're going to have to work on this," you agreed without realizing.

It was quiet after that. It was the same quiet Jihoon had grown used to in his solitary life, except it had morphed into a silence he could see himself becoming fond of. Your breath against his chest was all he could hear, and it was the one and only sound he desired from now on.

The following morning, you awoke before him, loving on him without question, wordlessly showing him how easy it was for you to want him, to love him. It was new, but for once, it didn't scare Jihoon. For once, he could see himself giving into something good without fear.

to read short 2.3k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my svt monthly tier on patreon!

content: office romance, semi-public sex, afab reader, smut, oral (m receiving), etc.

wc: 202 (teaser); 2340 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Hmm, we have to, hmph-"

That was as far as Jihoon had been able to get all morning before yet another rude interruption from you.

Well, calling it rude would be going too far.

In reality, Jihoon was very welcoming of every single interruption. Especially since each one consisted of your lips on his, with the occasional involving your tongue down his throat.

You'd woken up early, awakening him with soft caresses and kisses to his bare chest. It was a first for him. Everything was a first, really.

He'd been defiled for the first time last night, having the girl of his dreams suddenly showing up to his apartment to fix up a miscommunication (entirely caused by him) and turning his world upside down by confessing to a crush he'd believed completely unlikely.

The details made Jihoon too flustered to really think about, but at least he'd allow himself to enjoy the aftermath of it all.

But sadly, he had to try and interrupt you again. It was nearing the time to go to work, and as happy as he was with you, he knew things at work would likely have to change due to the sudden development of your relationship.

...

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[andvys]

The edges of your soul (I haven’t seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter two

⭐︎ can you see right through me?

Warnings: angst, misunderstandings, post apocalypse, gore, mentions of death, grumpy!steve, grumpy x sunshine

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 5k+

Summary: You didn’t think that trying to get close to Steve would end up hurting your feelings — but you also didn’t expect to get a glimpse of who he once was, before the darkness of this world dimmed the light in his eyes.

Authors note: Buckle up for the next chapter y’all, it’s gonna be something. always a shoutout to @hellfire--cult who always takes her time to edit and write with me 🩷

⭐︎ series masterlist

⭐︎ prologue ⭐︎ previous chapter

☀︎

On the first day of your official stay in Hawkins, Nancy took you to the greenhouse, you spent all day gardening, taking care of the crops, watering vegetables and fruit, picking the ripe ones and planting new seeds – it amazed you how well everything was growing, you didn’t think that it would be possible after seeing the effects this world had on nature but you suppose that miracles exist after all. 

By the end of the day, your knees hurt, your hands felt sore and there was too much soil and dirt under your fingernails, not that you would ever complain, you haven’t felt as much happiness as you did when Steve told you that you were allowed to stay since… well, since your college acceptance letter and that is too long ago. 

On your second you cooked french toast with leftover bread that Nancy had made the day before, using fresh eggs – you were surprised when you found out about the little stable with chickens behind the garden, you thought most animals had died. You made ratatouille for dinner, using the freshly picked vegetables from the greenhouse. Nancy and Eddie had complimented your cooking skills, though the reaction you were mostly looking forward to was Steve’s, he only hummed in approval and he got a second plate, you took that as a good sign. 

Today, you haven’t been assigned to any tasks yet and you don’t exactly know what to do when you walk down the stairs to find the house empty, well, mostly empty. There are no signs of Eddie and Nancy, you don’t hear him humming, you don’t hear her walking around in the kitchen or somewhere else, the only one around is Steve. He is in the living room, standing in front of the window, holding a cup in one hand while the other is propped against his hip. 

The smell of coffee lingers in the air, it must be his third cup, he already had one before breakfast, another during it. You wonder if he is just addicted to the bitterness of it – it certainly matches his attitude. Or if he is just tired and in need of something to keep him awake, you have a feeling that he doesn’t sleep much. 

“Where’s everyone?” 

Steve doesn’t even flinch, he heard you walking down the stairs, he felt your eyes on him. 

“Eddie is working on the RV,” he grumbles, still not fond of the idea of leaving, nothing will change his mind, he is just waiting for his friends to drop it. “Nancy is with him.”

You nod even though he can’t see you. You look around, still holding onto the railing of the stairs. The house is spotless, clean, not a single grain of dust lying around. Eddie is cooking dinner tonight, so there isn’t anything for you to do around here. 

Steve takes one last sip and then he puts the mug on the coffee table, not even glancing at you as he turns around and reaches for the gear he had left by the doorway. He puts the gun into his holster, secures the walkie into his belt and lastly he picks up his rifle before he starts making his way over to the door. 

“Wait, where are you going?” You ask, not hesitating to follow him. 

“Patrol.” 

You furrow your eyebrows at him, shaking your head, “I thought you said it’s a two man job.” 

He rolls his eyes and stops walking, turning around, he looks down at you, “Eddie and Nancy are busy–”

“I’m not,” you shrug, giving him a smug smile, knowing that he isn’t fond of your company. “I’m coming with you.”

“Can’t you find something else to do–”

“No, I cannot.” You interrupt him as you reach for the door knob and open it, “can’t let you break the rule and let you go out there by yourself, who knows what you might run into. I’m gonna keep an eye out for you, maybe you’ll get distracted with your shoelaces again!” 

Steve huffs, clenching his jaw. His eyes move up and down your body, eying your belt, the knives tucked into it, the gun in your thigh holster – he has a hard time believing that any of those things have been used by your hands, you couldn’t even kill the man that had attacked you when you had the chance to – he heard your conversation with Eddie that night, heard what happened, what almost happened to you, you could have killed that man, you should have, but you didn’t. 

People like you are not made for this world, it will get you sooner or later. 

“Like you’d be able to do anything,” he murmurs under his breath as he steps out onto the porch and shuts the door behind him. 

“What was that?” You turn around to face him. 

“Nothing.” 

Steve brushes past you, not glancing at you but motioning with his hand for you to follow him, “c’mon.” He makes big steps, fast ones too, forcing you to catch up with him when he is already past the gate and out on the road, walking down the empty street, he ignores the way your footsteps get louder as you hurry to get to his side. 

“Jesus, slow down, cowboy.” 

Steve scrunches his nose up, furrowing his eyebrows at the nickname you have just called him by. 

“Cowboy?” He scoffs as he turns to look at you to see you nodding already, a small but smug smile on your lips, though you look right ahead and not at him. “Why, cowboy?” 

“You’re so grumpy and brooding.”

He scoffs again, like you said something crazy, like you didn’t say the truth. 

“Who says that cowboys are grumpy and brooding?” 

You shrug, “there’s two types of cowboys, the flirty funny ones and the grumpy, brooding ones!”

Steve looks away from you, shaking his head a little. He can’t fight you, knowing you’re right about one thing, he is grumpy. He no longer is the guy he was before all of this, this world that has changed him, and not for the better. He was forced to kill the boy in him when he realized how much he was hurting someone he once loved dearly, he became better, he became a good guy but that guy got his heart broken – that was for the better, as much as it hurt at that time, it was for the better. He became better, he stopped caring about what other people thought of him, he found new friends, he found a best friend, his soulmate. 

Robin.

Robin made his world a better place, she fixed his broken heart, she taught him what it was like to have a real friend, an actual best friend. She taught him that love didn’t always have to be romantic, that it could be platonic and that this love could be just as strong as any other. 

They had so many plans for the future: leave Hawkins, live in a big city, get a place, figure out a future together. 

But then this happened, the world got uglier than before, evil. Their plans got crushed and they were ripped apart. She changed and he did too, and now he can’t be with her whenever he wants, too many things are in the way. 

This world had forced him to kill the person he was before all this, he was forced to kill himself a second time. 

Steve looks back at you, you don’t seem fazed by this world at all. You’ve been attacked not too long ago and not even that has fazed you, he doesn’t know you, doesn’t know half of your story and all the things you have been through since the day the world had gone to shit but from what he heard, you have seen – encountered some ugly things out there and yet there is something about you, something pure, something… good, something he didn’t think was still out there but he can see it. 

He can see it in your eyes, no ounce of hatred resides in them, only goodness, hope that should not even be a thing in this world. You are the complete opposite of him, you are bright, so bright that it almost blinds him, you are all smiles and giggles – and you are so goddamn talkative. 

Thirty minutes into patrolling and he fears his ear might fall off from listening to you jumping from one topic to another. So far you have talked about all your favorite movies, bands and books, told him of a specific cowboy character that he reminds you of before saying how much he looks like Patrick Swayze or well, how much his hair looks like Patrick Swayze’s. 

You are chattering away, not minding the huffs and sighs that keep falling from his mouth, a signal for you to just shut up. He begins to regret his decision to let you stay. 

“I think I made a grave mistake.” He murmurs as he looks around the empty neighbourhood, looking out for any signs of monsters or sick ones. 

“What?”

“Nothing. Do you ever shut up?” 

To his surprise, you do shut up and for a moment the only thing heard are yours and his footsteps and the leaves rustling from the wind. With a heavy sigh, he turns to look at you. You are pressing your lips together, looking down at the asphalt. He turns away again in satisfaction, enjoying the silence… the silence that doesn’t last long. 

“You called the monster demobat before, what does that mean?”

He restrains his eye roll, tries not to clench his jaw. 

“Uh…” He pauses, he keeps forgetting that the world doesn’t call the monsters by the names the teens have given them. “Eddie is a fan of a game and he used a name from there to name them…” He cringes at himself. 

“Oh!” You say in that voice, the one that pisses him off, the cheerful one. “What game?”

“Dungeons and Dragons.” He replies, hoping that answer is satisfying enough and you finally give him some peace. 

“Do you play?” 

Steve sighs, tightening his hold on the rifle in his hands. It was a mistake to let you come with him, he hates talking, hates answering questions, hates company. 

“No.”

You furrow your eyebrows, tilting your head at him. 

“Why not?”

“I don’t have the patience to learn all of that,” he shrugs. 

“Why?” 

Steve takes a deep breath, he is getting irritated by all your questions but he still turns to you, scrunching his face up as he shrugs again, “I-I don’t know, I don’t wanna be a nerd like him?”

You raise your eyebrows, lips parting, your head is still tilted – you look like a fucking curious puppy, he has to look away. He almost sighs in relief when he sees the house at the end of the road. 

“It’s a nerd game?”

He huffs loudly, glaring at nothing in particular, “seriously, can you keep quiet for more than two seconds!?” He snaps at you, forcing you to be quiet… for a moment. 

He counts the seconds, one… two… You are quiet, it’s almost nice to enjoy the silence again, almost. 

He hears you taking a deep breath. 

“What was your job before the world ended? Cop?” 

Three seconds. Three fucking seconds. 

“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs under his breath and he finally stops walking, looking up at the sky, he places his hands on his hips and takes a deep breath before he turns to face you. 

You halt in your tracks and turn to face him as well, taking in the sight of his deep frown, of the irritation in his hazel eyes and the annoyance that radiates right off him. You almost get nervous, almost. 

“What the fuck,” he grumbles at you, “are you always this talkative?” He asks, stunned. He will be forced to get used to this. 

“You don’t ask me anything, so I have to make conversation,” you shrug, pulling your hands up in front of you, “I haven’t had a good talk in months, I have pent up words.” 

And you chose him out of… three people – that is… he doesn’t know what to think of this. 

“Yeah, Eddie is the best choice for this, not me.” 

The frown on your face says otherwise, your eyes move up and down before they stop at his face again, he doesn’t know what you are exactly looking at or searching for but he needs you to stop. He shifts and huffs again, tapping his fingers against the rifle that he holds on for dear life. 

“But I want to talk to you.” 

He blinks, staring at you like he didn’t understand what you just said, he tries not to look at anything but your eyes.

“Horrible decision.” 

You break eye contact, looking away to take in the view around you, you sigh at his words and shrug before you continue walking, making him follow you this time. 

“I don’t think so.” You pause and look back over your shoulder to see if he is following. “Don’t you have any questions for me?”

“Uh…”

He does. 

But he won’t ask. He can’t. He just can’t, the less he knows the better. 

He looks down awkwardly, clearing his throat, “how old are you?” 

This time you scoff and shake your head at him, “seriously?” 

“What?” He frowns, looking up to see you staring at him with a confused pout – jesus christ. 

You sigh and roll your eyes, of course he asks the most boring question. 

"Twenty-two."

His eyes widen and his lips part – this might be the first other expression you see on his face other than the constant frown. He stares like you have grown two heads. 

“You’re a fucking year older than me!?” 

Oh. 

Oh… 

You didn’t expect to be older than him either, though you aren’t as surprised as he is, he looks shocked even. He stops walking again, you do too. 

“So… what about it…?” You ask quietly, lifting your shoulders.

Steve notices the unsure look on your face, the way your eyes move back and forth between his own and the ground, the way you cross your arms over your chest, like you are suddenly insecure.

He clears his throat, straightening up as he blinks himself out of his stupor. 

“I… nothing. Nevermind.” He retorts, ready to drop that topic. 

“No, tell me.” 

For some reason, he can’t look at you when he opens his mouth again. 

“You don’t act your age.”

“Oh?” Your voice is suddenly higher than before, hopeful, “do I act older?” 

He pulls his brows together, not looking at you yet, finding the ground beneath him very interesting all the sudden. 

“...Sure.” 

You don’t reply this time, don’t say anything to it, don’t ask any more questions, you simply turn around after a beat of silence, you start walking again, giving him your back. 

He counts the seconds, one… two… three. You give him the silence that he wanted this whole time. You don’t look at him either. He got what he wanted but when the awkwardness fills the space between you both, he suddenly feels a sliver of guilt rising up in him, he knows he must’ve hit a sore spot and he can’t help but kick himself for it. 

A part of him wants to apologize, the other wants him to stay quiet – the stronger side wins though. 

“I uh–”

Though you don’t give him the chance to keep going, you pick up your pace when you see Nancy on the porch, walking away from him quickly, not wanting to spend another second beside him. 

He watches you basically flee from him, it makes him sigh and it makes him halt in his tracks. Frustration bubbling up inside of him, a voice in his head calling him ‘dumbass’. He sighs softly, brings his hand up to his head, he runs his fingers through it nervously. 

He hit a sore spot, one that made you stop talking to him, one that prevented him from finding out more about you. 

It’s for the better. 

Yeah, he knows it’s for the better. 

-

Eddie cooked dinner and Nancy set the table tonight, neither of them noticed the lack of attention you were giving to the man sitting across from you or how he kept looking at you, not with hatred or anger in his eyes but with guilt. 

He hates that feeling, he hates feeling guilt or regret towards someone he barely knows, towards someone he does not want to let in. He knows that he hurt you with what he said, with how he reacted, he didn’t mean to, he couldn’t have known either – he didn’t react badly, he thought, and yet it shut you up and it made you stop looking at him. 

It’s for the better. He kept telling that to himself, kept repeating it in his head, over and over again until he could no longer stand these words. 

He notices that your plate is still filled with food, you only ate half of it. The whole time you sat there and pushed around the vegetables on your plate, you looked a little lost, your eyes were troubled, you looked far gone, like you weren’t at the table. Nancy and Eddie didn’t notice as they were busy talking about some news Dustin had shared from the radio station earlier. 

“You’re gonna like Dustin,” Eddie says, nudging your shoulder. 

Steve watches the way you blink, the way you plaster a smile on your face before you look at Eddie. 

Nancy hums, nodding, “yeah, he was always my favorite out of my brother’s friends.” 

You squint your eyes, like you are trying to remember something, “your brother is… Mike, right?” 

“Yeah, hold on!” She gets up all the sudden, walking away from the table and out of the room, she comes back a moment later with a book in her hand – a photo album. She sits back down beside you and pushes away her empty plate before she slams the album on the table and opens it, flipping the pages, she furrows her eyebrows as she looks for a certain picture, “wait… there it is!” 

She points at the picture of a group of four boys, dressed in Ghostbusters costumes. A smile instantly appears on your face and your eyes light up, “aw! They’re little Ghostbusters!” 

Eddie chuckles at the picture, even Steve smiles but you don’t notice. 

“That’s Mike,” she points at her brother, before she moves her finger to the boys next to him, “that’s Will and Lucas, and lastly that is Dustin!” She points at the curly haired boy. 

“Adorable,” you smile, thinking of your own brother. “My brother loves Ghostbusters too, although he’s way older than they are.” You chuckle. 

Steve’s eyes are back on you, he didn’t know you had a brother… but then again, he doesn’t know anything about you. It’s for the better. 

“Well, that was a few years back, they’re not the tiny humans they used to be,” Nancy laughs sadly. She flips to the next page, “that’s them now – or well, that was them before the world went to shit, I’m sure Mike is even taller now and his hair is longer too.”

The picture shows them at a skatepark, Dustin is grinning into the camera, Mike’s arms are crossed, a grumpy look resting on his face, Will is smiling, Lucas is looking down at the girl leaning into his side. 

“That’s Max,” Eddie points at the redhead, “she’s kinda scary.” 

You giggle at the serious tone in his voice. 

“I have to agree with that.” Steve snorts, earning a short glance from you. He pulls his sleeves up and leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Your eyes lock with his for a moment, though you quickly look back down.

There is another picture of Mike and Dustin, both of them wearing the same shirt – The Hellfire Club. 

“What’s that?” You point at their matching shirts to which Eddie straightens up in his seat, already grinning. 

Nancy and Steve groan at him, causing you to frown. 

“I’m glad you asked, sweetheart.” He pauses, looking at Steve smugly. 

“That was his nerdy game club that I told you about before,” he rolls his eyes. 

“You didn’t tell me he had a club!” 

“Shame on you, Harrington. It was the best thing to ever exist beside Corroded Coffin, of course.” 

You know all about Eddie’s band already, he told you about it on your first night here, and showed you pictures of his sweetheart. 

“I beg to differ–”

Nancy sighs loudly beside you, leaning back in her chair as she prepares herself for their banter. 

“Dustin, my buddy, was very passionate about the club.” Eddie grins. 

“Oh yeah, that little nerd you stole from me?” Steve retorts, squinting his eyes at the metalhead. 

“I didn’t steal him, I’m just cooler than you, Harrington–”

“You– You literally play a boardgame, how is that cool? I was prom king!” 

“Oh my god,” Nancy mumbles, shaking her head. 

Her reaction tells you that she is used to this, and sick of it. 

You though, you can’t help but be amused, looking back and forth between them. 

“Cry me a river, Henderson thinks I’m better, in fact, all teens do.” Eddie shrugs and reaches for his beer. 

“Except Lucas,” Steve smirks. 

Eddie nearly chokes on his beer when he straightens up in his seat, “I apologized!” 

Steve shrugs at him this time, taking a sip of the whiskey he poured himself earlier. 

“What about you, sweets?” Eddie asks, turning to look at you, “what did you do in high school?”

Nancy turns to you, as well as Steve – and suddenly all eyes are on you and you can’t help but feel a little flustered beneath their gazes. 

“I uh… I was prom queen…” You admit shyly, not looking at the hazel eyes that stare at you intensely.

Eddie’s eyes widen, “oh, we have royalty up in here, Wheeler.” 

Nancy giggles at his reaction, more so at the look on your face. She’s not surprised, you’re beautiful and sweet. 

“You were prom queen?” 

Out of the three people around you, you least expected him to ask you anything, but just like before, the tone in his voice, his reaction leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You slowly look up at him. 

“You sound surprised and I’m kinda offended. Am I that ugly?” you joke but he notices how your shoulders fall a little. 

His cheeks heat up and he wants nothing more than to roll his eyes at Nancy’s and Eddie’s judging faces towards him. He shakes his head at you, “I– no, I didn’t mean that… I mean it’s not all about looks anyways.” 

You purse your lips and furrow your eyebrows at his words, taking a deep breath, “...so I am ugly?”

Nancy huffs beside you, glaring daggers into Steve. 

“I didn’t say that, I’m just saying that apart from looks… people vote for nice people,” he mumbles, shifting in his seat and under your gaze. 

Nancy is back to pinching the bridge of her nose, begging him with her eyes to just shut up. 

If only you looked to your right, you would have seen the stunned and comical look on Eddie’s face. 

“So you’re saying I’m nice?” You tilt your head at Steve, growing a little satisfied with the way he is squirming around. 

He sighs, clenching his jaw and turns away from you, “I’m done with this conversation.” 

“...You were a fucking asshole in high school. You got prom king because Billy was a bigger asshole.” 

“Were?” You blurt out, making him look back at you stunned. 

Nancy hides her giggle with a cough, earning a glare from him. 

“He redeemed himself at Scoops Ahoy,” Eddie smirks, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Scoops Ahoy?” 

Steve shakes his head at him, if looks could kill, Eddie would be lying on the floor, right now. 

“Mhmm,” Eddie nods. “He was an ice cream man, and wore a sailor outfit too.” 

“Wait, what?” You ask, stunned. You can’t even imagine that. “I refuse to picture him in a silly sailor outfit, I need proof or else I won’t believe it.” 

“Too bad. Every picture of me in that outfit is burned.” Steve declares, looking very convinced until he sees the smirk on Nancy’s face.

He clears his throat before he leans closer to the table, “Nancy Wheeler… do you have a fucking picture–”

“No, I was just smiling,” she shrugs but pulls out two pictures from the album and hands them to you, giving him a smug smile.

“No way,” you mumble as you take a good look at them. There he is, the man you thought had a serious job before all of this actually worked at an ice cream shop, wearing a sailor outfit, in the first picture he even wears a silly hat as he serves ice cream to someone not part of the picture. His hair was much shorter back then, so different from the mullet he now has. His eyes are crinkled, his smile so big and bright, his cheeks slightly pink, unlike the pale color in them now. He looked so different, he looked happy, he looked like a different person. 

You glance over at him to find him staring at you already, watching you. His hazel eyes are cold, the frown on his face so deep you are surprised there aren’t any lines on his skin yet, the light in his eyes has faded. There is nothing left of the guy he was before, at least at first glance. 

You look back down and focus on the second picture, placing it on top of the other – it turns out to be a mistake because for some reason, your eyes like what they see, a little too much. With his hands behind his back, he stands against a brick wall, wearing the same sailor outfit, though this time without the hat, his hair styled yet messy, a hint of a smile pulling at his lips. You don’t know what it is about that picture, perhaps it’s his broad shoulders, the blonde highlights in his hair, the tanned skin or the way the golden light shines on him but he looks handsome – it’s something you haven’t noticed before, you aren’t blind, he is a good looking man but you couldn’t really see it before, not this clearly at least. His rude and mean attitude made it impossible to see, you couldn’t look past it. 

Your cheeks heat up a little, your ears do too, you sink deeper into your seat, hoping that none of them notice how flustered you feel. 

But Eddie does, he notices the way your eyes are basically glued to that picture, Nancy notices as well – they both glance at each other, amused. And Steve, he notices too, of course he does… The Steve from back then would have loved it, the flustered look on your face. 

As you hold the picture, you notice that the sides are frazzled, like a part is missing, like something or someone was cut out of both pictures. You look over them, taking a look at all the pictures lying around, of the teenagers, of other people you haven’t anything about yet, of Nancy’s family, of Eddie and Dustin and it only now dawns on you, that you stepped into something, that these people haven’t found each other in this world but in the one before – a tight circle, a family. 

A family you don’t belong in, you intruded – and now even more than before, you understand why Steve didn’t want you here, it wasn’t only about him not trusting you, it was about you stepping into something he didn’t want you to be a part of. 

This is his place of comfort that he didn’t want to share with a stranger. 

You hand the picture back to Nancy and reach for the wine Eddie had poured for you earlier, you take a big sip. 

Maybe you should have left when he told you to, maybe you should have done him a favor, you shouldn’t have broken into someone else’s home. 

“Is your brother older or younger?”

It wasn’t Nancy’s voice, nor was it Eddie’s.

It’s Steve’s. 

Not only do you look at him in surprise but also Nancy and Eddie. He ignores them though, keeping his eyes on you. 

You blink, putting the wine glass back down, you lick your lips. 

“Uh… he is older, he’s twenty four.” 

“Is he with your parents?” Nancy asks. 

You nod. 

“Yeah, he was home from college when it all… started. That idiot broke his leg during lacrosse, I don’t know why he kept trying with it, he was never the most athletic,” you chuckle. 

“Yeah, me neither. I always hated anything sport related,” Eddie says with wide eyes, earning a snort from Steve. 

“You’d get along well, he’s a major nerd.”

“Are you calling me a nerd, sweetheart?” Eddie pretends to be offended. 

“Uh,” you look him up and down, “yeah, major nerd just like my brother.”  

He nudges your side with his elbow, chuckling at the look on your face. 

Steve hides the smile on his face, looking down at his hands. 

“I’m hoping to get home, see a big gate surrounding my house, and I bet that asshole has a semi-automatic somewhere and is pretending to be in a zombie movie or something,” you chuckle. “He always dragged dad and me to the theater and forced us to watch the goriest shit. I used to hate it, now I want it back more than anything.” 

“Hey,” Eddie says softly, smiling at you. “Maybe you’ll do it again someday, maybe not at the theater but you could do movie nights with your family.” 

And his smile slowly fades again, he doubts that you will see your family again, he doubts that you’ll find them how you want to. He thinks it’s wrong of Eddie to fuel your hope, he is doing more damage than anything else and it’s gonna hurt even more when you find your family dead. 

There is no hope for anything or anyone in this world, it’s a foolish thing to have. 

You shrug, a smile on your face as you get up from the table to rush upstairs. Everyone just sits there wide eyed, looking at each other, hearing how there’s some stumping and then, something falling, and then you are cursing. Two seconds later you are coming back downstairs with something in your hands.

“This is my family.” You put the polaroids on the table, the ones you took back to camp so you would not miss your family so much. “That’s my mom, my dad, and the idiot of my brother.” 

They all grab a picture each. Eddie’s picture was of the four of you smiling while camping. Nancy’s was a picture of a family trip to the grand canyon, but Steve’s picture was something that made his heart shrink for some reason. The four of you were laughing, surrounding a christmas tree. You were younger, probably a teen, and it made him think of how now your personality made sense. 

You were never shown anything but love. Something he never experienced from his own family. He was slightly jealous at your picture, and he knew you were the only one between the four of you that had a normal and loving family. Nancy’s parents didn’t seem to love one another, Eddie’s father was an abusive asshole that ended up in jail and his mother passed away, and then there was Steve. Even with the apocalypse happening, his parents didn’t even care to find him. Find out if he was dead or not.

His eyes moved upwards to find you looking at him, and he wondered why you had a frown on your face. It wasn’t a second later that he felt his eyes burning and you could see the glistening of tears forming. He can’t cry. It’s stupid to cry about his family now. It’s stupid to cry about something he knew all along. It’s stupid to cry over people that he knew never cared for him.

“Your brother looks like Eddie.” Nancy suddenly speaks, making him look at her as well as you and Eddie. The metalhead tilts his head as he grabs Nancy’s picture and– 

“Ha, ha, very funny.” Sure, it was a picture of you four in the grand canyon, but it was your dad’s birthday, and your dad has a fear of pigs. Your brother had the greatest idea to put a pig's head over his head for the picture, and your dad was simply screaming bloody murder while you and your mom laughed.

“I mean, my brother doesn’t play that game you do, but he is a fan of star wars, and he read a lot of books! He liked one called The Hobbit?” Nancy and Steve groaned loudly at your words, which made you confused for just a few seconds and then you realized your mistake when Eddie was talking your ear off about why your brother was so cool, and the reason for that was because the plot for the hobbit was incredible.

And he explained it bit by bit and you didn’t know how to escape him. He was still talking about it like a kid on christmas as Nancy and Steve started washing the dishes, and you wanted to hit yourself for your big mouth. In all fairness, you didn’t know Eddie was gonna get as excited as he did.

“Anyways, what matters is, your brother is cool, so is Dustin and the other teens and Steve sucks.” At the sudden insult, Steve turns around with his hands covered in soap.

“What?” Eddie opened his mouth to probably repeat his words, only for Steve to shake his hands on his face, making the soap fly all around as well as water, and getting into Eddie’s mouth.

“GOD–” He screeched loudly as he got up from the table, rushing towards the sink to try to wash his tongue with the water while Nancy screamed at him to not waste it. Steve was smirking and all you could do was just stare at him. He was being playful. He was being more than the grumpy self he claimed to be with you. You started laughing loudly when Eddie insulted Steve with his tongue out, trying to not taste the soap anymore.

Steve shrugged as he wiped his hands away, turning to look at you doubling over in laughter and it made him feel less guilty for his actions of before. You weren’t immature. Your world was just always filled with love and affirmations, and you just wanted people to feel the same exact way you felt. It was a lost cause for him, but he felt good for making you laugh like this. It’s been a while since he made someone laugh.

It’s a good sound.

☀︎

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @thecreelhouse @tvserie-s-world @thesickestqrmydcll @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections @sattlersquarry

[revelboo]

man dude u are an absolute GOD with how much writing you keep pumping out THANK YOU FOR FEEDING USSSSSSSSSSS

I’m just having fun

Everything Is Alright Pt 122

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Optics on the ceiling overhead, on anything but you and your two mates fussing over you, Megatron swallows a growl. That all too familiar feeling of alienation that he remembers from the mines lifting through him. Thought that he'd gotten past this. That it could no longer hurt him, but it's as bitter now as it was back then. Being right there and ignored. Not belonging. And he hates it with a passion. "You two realize this changes everything," he says to Soundwave and Starscream and the Seeker's optics immediately narrow.

• "What exactly does this change?" Starscream growls, hand cupping the back of your head when you finally lay your cheek on his chassis. “I can tend to my mate. I don’t need either of you.” And you stiffen against him. Because as much as he despises the pair of them, you’d chosen them. Wants so much to resent you for that. For forcing him into this mess. They’re not his trine. Not brothers. They’re enemies. Wings drooping slightly then flaring when Soundwave immediately tries to comfort you, he growls. “But my mate does. For some reason.”

• Fighting a smile because that’s probably as civil as Starscream can be given the circumstances, you reach back a hand and Soundwave laces his servos with your fingers. And you’re painfully aware of how messed up whatever this is between the four of you is. That none of them are exactly happy. “Can we just try to start over?” Know you’re asking a lot of them. That this is all your fault anyway. “But you’re so tired of the fighting and scheming.

• “I’m not going to suddenly forget how many times your traitorous little Seeker has stabbed me in the back,” Megatron growls, but he sounds more tired than truly angry. That alone helps Soundwave relax some. Wants to pull you away from Starscream, separate you from him so he can just focus on your emotions. Wanting to try and figure out why you’d fully bonded Megatron after shunning him. It’s what he’d been working towards, but it still hurts that you’d chosen the warlord over him. How many times had he put Megatron ahead of himself, though? Should be used to it. Doing the hard things for the greater good. Even if it hurts. Always loyal. Obedient. Not allowed to want anything for himself, but he does want you even if you don’t want him.

• “Because you’re running the cause into the ground,” Starscream snarls wings lifting and the warlord’s head turns to stare at him. And he’s never been free to speak his mind without fear of pain or retribution, but he can say whatever the pit he wants right now and he’s untouchable because they’re both fully bonded to you. It’s like a dam falling in his processor. All the frustration, hate, and anger pouring out. “Do you have any idea how many stupid decisions you make? How many actions are driven by your desire to kill Optimus, not actual strategy? But what the frag do you know about strategy anyway? A miner and a gladiator. You have so many advisors and you don’t listen to any of us, too busy acting out your little vendetta while the cause suffers. I believed in you.”

• “You only believe in power,” Megatron counters, rolling and propping himself up on an arm. And your skin prickles, not really liking being so small and between them while they argue. Feel Soundwave hook an arm around your middle and pull you to him and away from Starscream like he’s concerned too. “You lie and scheme and paint yourself as a worthy leader, but you’re a coward scrabbling for any power or control you can get your servos on.” Yeah, you don’t want to be anywhere near them if they’re about to brawl. Both tensed like they’re seconds from launching at each other and then slowly relaxing to make you realize you were holding your breath. And Megatron glances at you, vents noisily and resumes staring at the ceiling. “You’re brave with our little pet to protect you.”

Previous

Next

Slowly remembering how to do this/accidentally stabbing myself with the needle so many times. I’m much rustier at this than I thought, though 🫠 looks more like Wheeljack’s illegitimate love child than Starscream at this point. Just a few more pins to finish my bag now

[honeysorwell]

all of it (all of you) 

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x fem!Reader

Prompt by anon + Idea for reader's nationality by anon

Synopsis: After more than 10 years with the same hairdresser, Melissa Schemmenti must change salons.

Tag list: (Since this is my first time writing for this character, I thought it best not to tag anyone. So if you want to be tagged just let me know.)

Warning: MELISSA AND Y/N ARE MAaaaD *in Ava's voice*

Words: 4k

Synopsis of the story + Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Enjoy!

Link on AO3

Chapter 1 - Changes

Barbara Howard's friendship had a transformative impact on Melissa Schemmenti's personal life from the beginning.

The religious woman's friendship at the beginning of the redhead's career made the Italian woman rethink many things about herself. Regardless of their moral differences, how their individual relationships with religion are almost opposite, or even their small disagreements, one thing right at the beginning turned Melissa's world upside down.

The once chaotic and disorganized woman discovered the calming practicality of being hostage to well-established standards with a Christmas gift from her black coworker in her second year working at Abbott Elementary.

A schedule with a small calendar.

The year she received that gift, the redhead was furious with what was left written between the lines.

Disorganization.

After all, Melissa had absolutely everything under control.

She always had.

In her own way.

And Melissa also thought it was stupid to waste precious time that could be spent working by just planning to work, but after a terribly inconsistent semester (with more art, music and physical education teachers being fired than she can count on one hand), the redhead decided to give it a try.

So, 22 years ago Melissa started to use a schedule and a calendar every year faithfully and never looked back.

As she got older, the certainty of her upcoming appointments and how easy was to change what was needed on that sheet of paper to make better use of her time kept Melissa calm even during all the chaos that continued to live in her head and in her classroom every day. But everything changed when the spaces on pages that were reserved especially for her monthly visits to her family's hairdresser were now blank.

Rationally, the redhead knew that the hairdresser who had taken care of her grandmother's hair for the last twenty years of her life, two of her aunts out of town, washed and cared for her mother's hair every week, and three of her sisters periodically couldn't last long. But Melissa couldn't help but feel fooled and betrayed when Andrea Rossi announced her retirement.

The redhead hadn't been Andrea's client for her entire life, after all, the older hairdresser's regular clients had always been her priority. However, Melissa began to be part of the select group of Schemmenti women helped by Andrea when her former hairdresser (the one who had a Greek accent and many opinions that she hated but didn't discuss because he was her brother-in-law's friend), decided to call her Melinda, even after having her as a client for over three years.

Melinda.

Even though it was seventeen years ago, Barb still remembers the angry redheaded hurricane that entered the teachers’ lounge that week and still manages to make jokes about it whenever she gets the chance.

Monthly visits to the older woman had started with a simple hair color, but unlike her old hairdresser, Andrea had become much more than that for Melissa.

It was a ritual, a moment of care that for a long time brought her joy and confidence. It was talking animatedly with an Italian woman who showed her affection and care, something neither of them would admit out loud but was lacking in the Schemmenti family when it came to recognizing Melissa’s efforts and personal victories.

And now it was over.

“Ragazza (girl), don’t be like that… I’m old now, my hands hurt more than I can handle after a busy weekend,” Andrea tried to justify, stroking Melissa’s head with a tender smile as she finished coloring her hair that day, but which did not hide the weight of the decision.

“And what am I going to do now? Let the gray hair give me another 30 years in less than 6 months?”

“Don’t be silly! I’ve already transferred all my clients to hairdressers that I trust. You included! So stop it now!”

“I don’t want someone new.” Turning uncertainty into resistance is like armor for the redhead, even though she knows she has no choice, her brain still tries to break the meaning of Andrea’s retirement, “It’s going to mess up my entire schedule, Andrea! Two classes and now with you gone? I almost went crazy with the first semester of the year alone, now I know I’ll as soon as classes start after winter break!”

“I know that, Melissa. That’s why I talked to the hairdressers I know, and the best choice for you is Y/N, my last trainee. She’s great, hard-working, very talented and was willing to easily change her own clients’ schedule to see you at the same time I see you every month, she also works just five minutes away from here. You’ll like her.”

“But I don’t know her.” Even though she didn’t admit it, the idea of ​​a stranger touching her hair disturbed Melissa deeply, and the murmur that left her mouth made a point of emphasizing this.

The change came too quickly, and with it, a wave of anxiety took over Melissa's heart. This feeling was temporarily drowned out by her more than exhausting end-of-year routine. She was the hostess of the Schemmenti family's Thanksgiving dinner, and this, along with the end of the year, drained her ability to think about her other problems. But when the following month arrived, and along with the return to school after winter break, her colorless hair also started to show again, so Melissa swallowed her pride and went to the salon that Andrea had recommended to her.

Riverfront Roots.

The name was silly, a clear reference to the Delaware River that Melissa preferred not to think about too much as she looked at the large letters printed on the facade of the place. As soon as she entered the new salon, the smell of hair products and the sound of blow dryers buzzing caught her attention. The place was modern and well-decorated, but Melissa couldn't feel completely at ease. The smell was different, the decor was different, the voices were different, and the redhead hated each of these things.

She wasn't so reluctant to little changes in her daily life, but that week was so exhausting. The two classes together made a point of actively getting on her nerves, Gary also changed some of the lemonade brands in the vending machine and none of the new ones lived up to the taste of the old ones. The man made a point of telling the redhead that it wasn't done on purpose, thanks to the end of their relationship, and she genuinely believed him, but even so, such a change in such a tiring week only made the teacher's discomfort that Saturday morning turn into a gratuitous and deep antipathy towards the new place.

The woman of Italian descent approached the counter, where a receptionist graced her with a friendly smile.

"Hello, how can I help you today?", was the question that greeted Melissa, with a kindness that, in the redhead's mind, was completely unnecessary.

The teacher hesitated for a moment before answering sharply, ignoring the hello offered to her.

"Schemmenti. Melissa Schemmenti, please. I have a coloring booked here. A recommendation from Andrea Rossi." While the receptionist checked her information, Melissa looked around, trying to get used to the new habitat, but she barely had time to do so because, in less than thirty seconds, the receptionist escorted Melissa to a chair in front of one of the largest mirrors in the salon.

The chair that was chosen for the redhead was a little isolated from the other people present, who were laughing and talking without worrying about the noise, but if the redhead was being honest with herself, she actually preferred it that way.

“Hello, Melissa. My name is Y/N and it’s wonderful to meet you. I hope you fell welcome and comfortable here with me. Andrea has told me wonderful things about you and I have her notes in my hand to make sure you leave here satisfied.”, a younger woman with a thick accent appeared out of nowhere, vomiting the words at Melissa with a smile and a sweet voice that were already starting to give the redhead a headache.

The speech seemed rehearsed, still genuine, but her voice seemed too practiced to instill comfort in the redhead. And if that wasn't enough, the younger woman was enthusiastically waving a note in her hand like a triumph, making Melissa even more insecure about Y/N's talent than she already was.

The teacher knows she's not an idiot but… This hairdresser wasn't even thirty years old. This Y/N was clearly in her early twenties, with rich hair and a quick smile that probably lit up the room more than those stupid ringlights that surrounded the chairs in that place.

Not to mention that she was beautiful. Very beautiful.

A part of Melissa, hyper-aware of her own age, felt the bitter taste of envy take over her tongue as she looked at the younger woman's reflection in the mirror in front of her, but another part, even more recklessly, awakened a dormant desire in her mind.

However, even with that spark hidden behind Melissa's eyes, their initial interaction couldn't have been worse.

Y/N seemed excited, first asking Melissa for permission to touch her hair – something the redhead almost said no to, just to see if that smile would die on her lips – but quickly the hairdresser started discussing ideas for Melissa's hair, something that forced the redhead's voice to sound cutting:

"I just dyed my hair red for years.", Melissa made sure her voice sounded as sharp as she intended, "Get those ideas out of ya head and just do what Andrea used to."

The lack of niceness caused Y/N to feel strange, but the hairdresser tried to remain calm despite the discomfort.

New clients were always a little insecure, so the Brazilian woman would just prove to the one in front of her that she had talent.

Y/N always had magical hands. When she was still a girl, on the hot afternoons in her hometown, she would have fun braiding the hair of her school friends. Long locks of hair shiny thanks to the summer sun and strands yellowed by the chemicals of several women in the city often passed through Y/N's hands as if she were an artist molding a sculpture.

Her friends loved the hairstyles she did. At first, they were not at all sophisticated due to her young age, but they were done with so much love and dedication that they always seemed to transform any hair into something unique. For Y/N, it was more than just fun.

It was a passion.

When she reached her teen years, that passion became something more serious. Y/N was not satisfied with just doing the hair of her friends and family. The Brazilian woman wanted to learn, she wanted to master the art of transforming people's hair into something even more special.

That's why when she graduated from high school, Y/N started studying, and within a few months, she was already working professionally at a salon in her city. It didn't take long for her to be recognized for the quality of her work. Her skill with scissors and dye made her quickly stand out among other professionals. She knew what she was doing, she knew how to transform people into more beautiful versions of themselves, she knew what her clients wanted and, most importantly, she knew how to make them feel good.

Little by little, Y/N began to stand out even more and her life began to change.

She knew that her talent could not be limited, and so, when some close friends who had already moved to the United States began to encourage her to try her luck in Philadelphia, Y/N was scared at first. But if the chance to start over in another country meant more opportunities, she couldn't let this pass, even if the exciting idea had the power to scare her. But even though she was frightened, she was soon embarking on a new chapter in her life in a plane.

It was hard to save money for the travel, it was hard to get all the necessary documents to enter the USA legally, it was hard to leave loyal clients behind, and it was even harder to leave her country and its traditions. But the youthfulness of her soul and the hope of a new life embraced her heart and the hairdresser decided to give herself this chance.

Wen she arrived in Philadelphia, Y/N felt, at the same time, small and full of possibilities. The city was big, the competition was powerful, and she was seen as just another foolish immigrant.

But she was determined.

The Brazilian woman knew that her skill could be the key to a promising future. She just didn’t expect that her future would be shaped by Andrea Rossi, an older and more experienced Italian hairdresser who worked at a well-known salon nearby.

The story happened by chance. One of Andrea’s regular clients mentioned that her son had gotten a haircut from a really new Brazilian hairdresser.

“It was something very different… Like those stupid things we see on TikTok, but it was exactly what James wanted, and we had never found anyone willing to do it. What this young woman did perfectly and without thinking twice, and my son loved it!”, the woman commented in admiration before giving the older woman an idea, “You should meet her!”

Andrea was curious and, figuring she had nothing to lose, asked for more information about the Brazilian woman. The client was enthusiastic and told the Italian one everything she knew and, even though she was skeptical, Andrea let her curiosity get the best of her and decided to see it for herself.

The next day, she went to the salon where Y/N was working and, observing closely, immediately noticed the young woman’s skill. The Brazilian woman had the touch of someone who knew what she was doing, an eye for beauty trends, and the needs of her clients, but she also had more than that.

Y/N had a natural connection with people, a charisma that, combined with her smile and strong accent, made any client feel at ease, and Andrea saw that.

So the Italian woman wasted no time. She called Y/N for a chat at the end of her shift and, soon, took her on as her last pupil before announcing her retirement.

Normally, hearing Andrea Rissi's name made Y/N happy. All the advice, recommendations, affection, and wisdom shared by the older woman were a pleasant memory for the Brazilian woman.

But there, while she tried in vain to be nice to what was Andrea's transfer, having her work compared to the older woman's began to annoy her.

First, the owner of those pretty green eyes began to verbalize her dissatisfaction with the work tools Y/N used, telling her how much she preferred Andrea's work tools, which were always on display for her clients to see. Then the redhead started rolling her eyes at Y/N's coworkers, who, since they had no clients, were chatting spiritedly while planning to get their nails done at the end of the day, muttering how much she would appreciate some peace and quiet.

But the first sign Y/N gave that she was definitely not the type of person who would just ignore or shrink from Melissa's bad mood was when the redhead made a point of directly comparing her work to Andrea's before Y/N even started dyeing her hair.

"Andrea, don't part my hair like that. You'll leave my hair full of spots!"

Trying to preserve the good mood she had woken up in that morning, the hairdresser chose to be sneaky and ironic. Y/N looked around theatrically and curiously, as if she was searching for something important, and Melissa, unable to contain her fear and confusion, made her voice present.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just looking for Andrea Rossi since you want to talk about her so badly.”

Receiving only silence as an answer, and thinking that the unhappy attitude of that client was over, the hairdresser continues her journey. Y/N measures the dye with all the care in the world, making sure to double-check on the scale in front of her that the weight is correct when compared to what Andrea gave her over the phone before applying the dye accurately, fearing giving Melissa another reason to complain. The Brazilian woman divides Melissa’s hair locks with the focus of a professional with much more experience, doing everything she can to not lose a single gray hair, and when she goes to wash it, she does so with a gentleness that surprises Melissa.

But the teacher doesn’t want to admit it, so she continues to stare sullenly at the mirror, even while Y/N gently untangles her wet hair.

When the redhead’s hair is nice and completely ready to be dried, Y/N looks at her hair curiously before turning once more to Melissa’s reflection in the mirror.

“I usually do this before dyeing, but what do you think about maybe cutting a few inches? The ends are starting to lose their shape.”

“I don’t want to cut anything.”, the words are said low enough for no one but the hairdresser to hear but Y/N, but with a hint of anger that surprised the young woman, “And stop talking, your voice is too annoying for the kind of mediocre work ya deliver, kid.”

It was insensitive. Even to Melissa.

The redhead knows that Andrea would never send her to a bad hairdresser. She knows she is being harsh and critical to someone who gave her no reason to do so, but before she realizes it the words have already escaped her mouth.

But the teacher simply has no idea what was coming.

The hairdresser’s eyes widened, large pupils full of rage meeting the teacher’s gaze through the mirror, shocked by the words said by Melissa. And, before Melissa's mind can even work on instigating any remorseful reflexes, Y/N grabs a large chunk of hair from the redhead's bangs and takes a pair of scissors out of her pocket with her free hand, quickly placing them right on Melissa's forehead, exactly where her hair grows, like a more than concrete threat.

“Listen to me Philadelphia's beauty, I don't know what kind of hairdresser you expected when Andrea transferred you to me but as long as you sit in my chair you will respect my work and listen to my fucking suggestions.”, it is said as a whisper, but the hairdresser's anger and her thick accent along with the slight pull she gives the redhead's hair make the whole interaction sound indescribably scary, even to Melissa, “I've been nothing but polite and respectful to you, but I'm starting to regret accepting someone so unfortunate in my char that they think they can criticize my work without even knowing me.”

There, locking eyes with Y/N ​​in the salon mirror, Melissa understood how much she had crossed the line.

Melissa took a deep breath, filled with adrenaline at the thought of losing the top part of her hair, before nodding her head, causing Y/N to put down the scissors and let go of her bangs as she returned to work normally.

And then silence.

Dead silence.

The silence between the two women was so thick that it seemed to fill every corner of the room, making the sound of the dryer and the conversations around them sound muffled and filling the air with a corrosive feeling.

The scene from minutes ago was still boiling in Melissa's mind, repeating itself like a scratched record. Now, as if Melissa had finally come to her senses, the redhead wanted to disappear. She wanted to jump out of the chair and run away from the mirror which reflected her own guilt and shame. But she couldn't. Her anxiety combined with the idea of ​​leaving now, before the end of her service (something that could be even more disrespectful than her words), did a magnificent job holding her body in place, like an invisible chain that kept her feet on the floor and her mouth gagged.

With her fingers drumming on her apron-covered leg as the Brazilian woman prepared to style her hair, the teacher wanted to believe that it hadn't been so bad, that maybe Y/N had already forgotten what was said. But she knew that wasn't true. The weight of the moment still hung between them, thick and uncomfortable.

Y/N doesn't cut her hair or even mention the idea once again. The hairdresser just dries her red hair perfectly, but now with a serious gaze and a hurt look on her face. The Brazilian woman vehemently ignores Melissa's green eyes throughout the entire process, and the teacher stupidly decides too late that she prefers the incessant smile that remained on the hairdresser's lips minutes ago.

Melissa thought about apologizing, but the idea of ​​speaking made her breathing quick and shallow, along with the fear of seeming too desperate.

It was then that her eyes fell on the small ceramic jar in the corner of the counter next to her chair. It was decorated with hand-painted flowers and had, in crooked but legible letters, the words: "Tips for Y/N" next to a QR code. Even with the virtual possibility of compensation, the jar was open and with a significant amount of dollars, coins, and two lollipops, which Melissa just knew had been left there by a child.

And so, an idea formed, hesitant but clear in the teacher's mind.

A good tip seemed perfect, silent, indirect, but still meaningful. As the minutes passed, anxiety whispered again in Melissa's mind, wondering if Y/N would believe that she was doing this because of the guilt she felt at that very moment and not because of the regret that was now eating her mind. But the alternative of doing nothing was simply unbearable for Melissa.

The redhead knew she couldn't leave without at least trying, even if in her own way, to make amends.

When Y/N finished applying a light-smelling oil to the teacher's hair and walked away, silently letting her know that her work was done, Melissa tried to meet the hairdresser's eyes and give her a small smile, which she knew would be nervous, but which could give her an idea of ​​what was going on in Y/N's head.

But Y/N didn't look at Melissa.

When Melissa got up from the salon chair, her racing heart didn't stop her from taking two generous bills from her wallet — much more than she would usually give for just an appointment to dye her hair— and walking over to the pot. Her fingers were shaking slightly, but before anything could be done, she was interrupted:

“I don’t want your tip.” Before the two hundred dollars could enter the ceramic pot with the Brazilian’s name written on it, Y/N placed her own hand over the top to the object, successfully blocking Melissa from doing what she intended.

“M'kay. Now you’re being ridiculous!”

With those words, the hairdresser's eyes finally focus on the green ones again, still filled with an anger that Melissa rarely sees in people who have a disagreement with her (too used to the regretful and submissive ones) and the redhead was shocked by this when Y/N actively chooses to ignore her accusation by saying:

"I'm willing to give you the exact coloring mixture that Andrea developed for your hair so you can find a hairdresser who is like the silent imitation of Andrea that you are looking for.", and before the redhead even has a chance to answer her with an apology that would apparently be necessary, the hairdresser quickly collects everything that was used in the teacher's service and directs Melissa a few more words before walking away without looking back, "Call the salon when you want the measurements and the receptionist will share them with you with pleasure. Have a good rest of your day."

[comflexxed]

june let out a quiet breath, his chest tightening with something tender, something overwhelming. the way hans spoke — so sure of himself, so full of conviction — made his throat feel tight with emotion. there was nothing hesitant in hans’s words, no wavering in his belief that their love was worth documenting, worth preserving, worth carrying forward for the children they would one day have. and maybe that was what undid june the most.

hans had already seen their future so clearly, had already mapped out the pieces of their life together with such certainty. not just their love, not just their wedding, but everything — the home they had built, the flowers they had planted, the children they would raise together. he wasn’t just imagining it. he was writing it into existence with every word he spoke. and june—who had once struggled to believe in the permanence of anything, who had never been given reason to trust that love could last — was suddenly standing in the middle of a life that hans had built for them, solid and unshakable.

his hands tightened around hans’s, his fingers curling instinctively around his husband’s as if to ground himself in the moment. “we really have started writing it already, haven’t we?” he murmured, his voice softer, more contemplative. his lips quirked slightly, something almost disbelieving. “i spent so long time thinking love only about grand gestures. about proving something, about fighting for something.” he exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “but with you, i’ve more than that. it’s in the quiet things. it’s in the way we feed each other breakfast in the morning, the way we plant flowers together, the way you hold my hand like you never want to let go.”

his grip on hans’s hands tightened, his gaze never wavering. “that’s what i want to write about. not just the milestones, not just the big moments—but the quiet, everyday love that makes up the life we’re building together. i want our children to know that love isn’t just something you say, it’s something you do.” his thumb brushed absently over the back of hans’s hand as he let the thought settle between them.

his smile softened as he let the teasing fall away, his hands squeezing hans’s just a little tighter. “but more than anything… i want them to know how much i love you. how much i will love you, for the rest of my life.” his voice dipped lower, steadier, as he leaned in, his forehead brushing against hans’s. “because that’s the part of our story that will never change.”

and with that, he kissed him — soft and slow, like a promise.

hans waited with bated breath until june spoke at last, and when he finally did, hans broke into a smile. the way his words caught, the way he laughed quietly, and the way he whispered softly, it all told hans that he could see it too, how this would be something they could give to their children, make it a family tradition they could hold on dearly. 

his eyes soft and filled with the possibilities of capturing their love in the pages of a book, he leaned into june’s touch, letting june’s familiar warmth against his cheek anchor him. “i would like the words to show how you make me feel like the luckiest person in the world too. i think we always see each other in such a beautiful light, all of it has to be captured in writing,” he said with quiet resolve. 

it was starting to piece together in his mind, and the documentation required by the old lady would fit in perfectly with this plan. “we can talk about how we built our home. from the very first piece of item be bought together, to how it would be when the book is finished.” he broke into a grin, his eyes never leaving june’s. “and because we have already started documenting, that means we have already started writing.”

hans felt invigorated by the idea, as if all the hard work they had been putting in these past few days were all leading up to this, and more hard work in the future would only be welcomed with the same openness. he closed his eyes briefly as june kissed his forehead, letting the press of his lips to his skin be the anchor that hans needed to keep his mind from going several steps forward with the plan. they would get to it, but right now, in the moment, he was with his husband, and they were wrapped up in this feeling.

“you really do inspire me, every day,” he whispered softly, his eyes searching june’s once more as he opened them, those solemn eyes looking back at him making him feel important and treasured. “i will make sure to write about all of that as well."

he reached out to hold both of june's hands, holding each one tightly in his. "i can read it to you once we’re done, and we can read it to our children together. we’ll talk about how we planted the flowers for our wedding day, how we had our wedding day and then had them. how they figured into our life like corner pieces to a puzzle we were solving together.”

the words flowed so easily that hans felt like he was already writing in the air around them, filling their surroundings with his thoughts, and it would only be a matter of arranging them onto the pages. he smiled, as if he could see the words weaving together into sentences, each touch and each kiss serving as punctuation marks for their story.

[etherealyoungk]

─ ♡ crash course in romance | kwon soonyoung (TEASER)

SUMMARY: meet kwon soonyoung, he’s the ultimate goofball— sweet and chaotic but clueless when it comes to romance. so when you ask him to be your fake boyfriend even though you barely know him, he says yes, even though he's never dated before and has no idea what to do. as you show him the ropes and coach him on how to be the perfect boyfriend and slowly get to know him, soonyoung finds himself slowly falling for you. and maybe, just maybe, you're falling for him too

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x fem!reader

GENRE: strangers to lovers, fake dating, best friend’s brother, first love, light slow burn, humour.

WARNINGS: kissing, fluff, angst, mentions of alcohol and alcohol consumption, use of curse words, little suggestive, cameo of roommate!seungkwan and other svt members, hoshi being a clueless idiot

WORDCOUNT: teaser wc - 1.2k | estimated full fic wc: 30k

A/N: FINALLY WRITING A LONG FIC FOR MY HUBBY! this is my teaser for my fic that is part of the lonely hearts cafe collab by @camandemstudios! if you want to be apart of the taglist for this fic, comment/send an ask or sign up for the taglist form here.

you’re about to pull up at your best friend, jihyo’s place and you dial her number, calling her up. she picks up after four rings, her voice filling the space in your car.

“hey”, she says. “hey jihyo, i’m about to reach your place to collect my mail and other packages”, you say. “oh, i’m actually not at home right now, but i’ll tell soonyoung to hand them over to you, i think he’s dropped by”, jihyo says.

you can hear the bustle of people talking through the phone as she speaks. you decipher that she must be at work. “sure, okay”, you say, cutting the call before jihyo mumbles something about calling you back later and you pull up at her driveway a few minutes later.

you step out of the car and walk up, ringing her doorbell. usually you’d ring the doorbell and walk right in, but considering she wasn’t there, you didn’t want to suddenly intrude, it felt odd. you wait a few moments and you can hear the shuffle of feet from the inside, along with a soft thud of something falling, probably a box. the door finally opens and you’re greeted by kwon soonyoung - jihyo’s younger brother.  

“hey, yn right? jihyo told me you’re here to collect your mail and stuff”, he says with a slightly frazzled face, like he was put to this task last minute and had no idea what to do, like a deer in headlights. you nod and he gestures for you to enter and you walk inside as he disappears back in the other room, probably to fetch your mail. you’d asked jihyo to drop by your place if she could to collect your mail since you’d been out of town for two weeks on a business trip and didn’t want anyone stealing your packages or snooping around.

you’d known jihyo ever since you joined university. she was your roommate and now bestfriend. she was kind, sweet, funny and a little chaotic, but you loved everything about her. so naturally, you’d been to her house countless times, and met her brother too - soonyoung. he was two years younger than jihyo and you, and he was honestly really sweet. when you’d come over during the break or to hang out, you’d see soonyoung only occasionally or bump into him when you were entering or leaving as he’d always be doing his own thing. but now, you were probably seeing him for the first time since you graduated university and started a job, having moved a little further away. so it’s been almost three years since you saw soonyoung again, because whenever you’d meet jihyo now, it was always in the city or somewhere out, not at her home.

soonyoung had changed a lot. he’d grown tall and his hair, which had been virgin black was now dyed a silver blonde. it had grown too, his hair falling over his forehead in a cute shaggy mess and growing a little long at the ends, almost at the beginning stages of a mullet and somehow, he pulled it off, it looked good on him. his face was framed by soft rounded features and he somehow radiated a youthful, approachable glow about him. his almond-shaped eyes are soft, but also sharp, holding warmth. and lastly, he had definitely been hitting the gym because he looked different - he looked good.

two minutes later, soonyoung walks into the room holding a big box with a smaller box stacked on top of it along with a few small parcels and then envelopes. “this is all the stuff”, he announces, like he’d just accomplished a huge task by collecting all of this for you. 

“thanks!”, you say, taking a step forward to take the box but he speaks again. “let me load it up in your car, it’s a bit heavy”, he says as he looks at you, blinking. “okay, sure”, you say and you open the door, walking outside towards your car with soonyoung following beside you. you unlock the car and pop open the trunk and soonyoung sets down the pile of boxes with a soft thud before taking a step back. 

“thanks again soonyoung”, you say, looking up at him. now that he was right next to you, you realise how tall he’d actually grown. he gives you a polite smile as he runs a hand through his silver blonde hair, the strands of hair getting messed up, falling on his forehead in a cutely dishevelled way. “it’s no problem”, he says and with that you give him another small wave and head out, driving back home.

when you get home, you find your apartment spick and span - quite the contrast to which you had left it, considering you had left on the business trip in rather short notice. but now as you walk inside, your shoes are all neatly lined up by the side, the bunch of laundry that had been rotting on your bed for two weeks was neatly folded and kept aside in your wardrobe, your mugs which had piled up were all neatly rinsed and washed and your fridge was stocked with new food - no doubt all the doings of your mother. 

you immediately reach for your phone and dial your mother’s number and she picks up almost immediately, like she had been waiting for your call. you drag your suitcase to your room and leave it there, taking off your coat and throwing it on your bed.

“mom, did you drop by?”, you ask, already knowing the answer, but you liked to tease her. you visibly hear her sigh and hold back your laugh.

“no darling, a ghost dropped by your apartment”, she deadpans, making you let out the laugh you were holding. “i don’t even think a ghost would want to live in your apartment in that state”, she adds. 

“i was busy and i had to leave on short notice”, you counter. “that’s what you always say”, she says and you scowl. “it was really short notice”, you say and she only hums in response.

“thank you mom, i love and appreciate you for that”, you say after a moment. “i made your favourite, it’s in the fridge”, she adds and you smile. your mom really knew the way to your heart. you walk towards the kitchen and fill the kettle with some water.

“so, did you meet any cute guys on your trip”, she asks and you let out a small groan at her question. of course that’s what she’d ask you first, not how the trip was or how work was.

“no mom, it was a work trip”, you say, letting out a sigh. “still! you should keep an eye out”, she says. “after you broke up with jaehyun you’ve been sulking around. it’s time to find a guy and settle down”, she adds and just then the kettle lets out a whistle, signalling that the hot water is ready. you take a mug from the shelf and pour the boiling hot water, watching as the steam curl at the top before you drop in a tea bag, watching the tea leaves slowly seep into the water, turning the water into green tea.

“for the millionth time, he broke up with me mom, and i just need some space right now, i’m not in the mood for a relationship, nor do i have the time”, you tell as you take the mug of tea and walk over to the couch, plopping down on it, putting the mug on the table beside you.

“nonsense, if you start dating again you’ll feel better. do you want me to find someone for you? i found this guy, i’ll send you his picture, i can set you up with him on a blind date and -”, you cut her off.

“mom, i’m serious about the no dating thing right now”, you say and she clicks her tongue in disapproval. “i’ll still send you his picture if you change your mind”, she says as you take a sip of the hot tea.

if you want to be added to the taglist for this fic, send a comment/ask!

taglist: @joshuaahong @paindivinemp3 @fallingforshua29 @itsveronicaxxx @frankenstein852 @weird-bookworm @mirxzii @naaaaafla @gyubakeries @lvlystars @icyminghao @kyeomyun @ihrtboo @n4mj00nvq @yoozuku @imujings @wheeboo

[fear-is-truth]

EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE

— KAI ANDERSON x f!reader

warnings — voyeurism ‧ kai being a perv ‧ very suggestive ‧ MDNI 18+ jackie’s note — tried a different writing style since it’s mostly conversation. hope it’s in character….

“you should change your brand of deodorant.”

the sentence is so mundane it barely registers. you stab at your food, half-listening.

“what?”

“that shit is cancerous,” kai states mildly. he chews thoughtfully. swallows. “you don’t want breast cancer, do you? you wouldn’t be able to breastfeed our baby if you did.”

your fork pauses mid-air. you blink.

“our what?” kai looks at you then, tipping his head, like you’re the one saying something strange. “hypothetically,” he says, waving a dismissive hand. “future tense.”

your stomach twists—not at the words themselves, but at the way he says them. easy. certain. like the thought of you nursing his child is already set in stone. he’s just being practical.

“how do you know what deodorant i use?”

he shrugs. “i pay attention.”

—

you find it that night.

tucked neatly into the corner of your room, angled to catch everything.

a tiny black lens, reflecting the light when you lean in.

you go still. then cold.

you rip it from the wall

—

you storm into his room, shoving the camera in his face.

“the fuck is this, kai?”

he barely glances up from his laptop before looking back down.

“looks like a camera.”

“no fucking shit. why was it in my room?”

his fingers tap against the keyboard. “do i really need to explain that to you?”

his calmness makes it worse. you want him to panic. you want him to lie, at least—pretend this isn’t what it is.

“so i can keep an eye on you.”

“keep an—” you cut yourself off, staring at him. “you are actually insane.”

he hums, noncommittal. “or just prepared.”

“you had no right—”

“relax.”

kai leans back in his chair, stretching, exhaling through his nose like he’s already bored of this conversation.

“it’s not like you haven’t enjoyed the attention.”

“i haven’t enjoyed anything about you spying on me—you’re insane!”

“am i? or are you just mad that i know all the dirty things you do when you think no one’s watching?”

he smiles. fingers drum against the desk.

“oh yeah. i’ve seen what you get up to at night.“

heat creeps up your neck. your skin prickles.

“laying there all quiet, thinking no one’s watching. but you can’t keep still, can you?” he tilts his head, eyes glinting. “legs rubbing together, then that hand slipping under the sheets, moving so fucking slow. teasing yourself. getting frustrated. biting your lip, trying so hard not to make a sound.”

your jaw clenches. you want to hit him.

“you always break, though.” he licks his lips. “always start panting real soft, hips rocking up, so so desperate. and when you finally get there? god.” he exhales, shaking his head, like he’s actually impressed. “you’re so fucking pretty when you cum.”

you feel sick. his voice, the easy, clinical way he’s talking about it, about you. like he’s narrating some goddamn documentary.

“you make these little whimpering sounds—” his head tips back against the chair, lashes fluttering. “like you’re not even fully aware you’re doing it.”

you want to fucking kill that bastard.

kai watches you, taking in the way you shift on your feet like you don’t know whether to run or swing at him.

“it’s kinda hot, actually.” he grins. “you getting all embarrassed, knowing i’ve been watching this whole time. getting off to you getting off.”

he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes flicking over you, hungry. “wanna know how many times i came to it?”

“shut the fuck up.”

“nah, i think you wanna know.”

he leans in, resting his elbows on his knees, watching you like he’s daring you to react.

“i could tell you exactly which night you got yourself off the hardest.” his voice is lower now, almost thoughtful. “you remember it? probably not. but i do.”

he tilts his head, mock-thoughtful. “i could show you the footage if you need a refresher.”

your skin is burning. rage, shame, horror—twisting together, churning in your gut. kai watches your reaction closely, his smile widening like he’s savouring every sweet second of your humiliation.

“you kept whining into your pillow, i heard you say my name, too.” he huffs a soft laugh, shaking his head. “so desperate, so fucking needy. you came twice. back to back. shit was crazy.” he spreads his hands, like he’s telling an interesting story. “could’ve busted right there just watching. actually, i did.”

you lunge before you can stop yourself, shoving him, hard. the chair skids back.

kai just laughs.

“god, you’re fun.”

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[postsforposting]

that's an incredibly negative view. i don't think people should default to steelman; i do think taking a positive view, especially of toneless plain text, should be the default. it makes for a pleasant atmosphere. unfortunately people, especially online, seem to think the meanest view of those around them is.....a good thing? how it should be??? that there's no other way to do things???

we really can just. not. do that. believing other people mean well is....a pretty basic requirement not only for civility but also for simple geniality.

and again, "it sure can be stated in a negative or entitled way, but that is true of literally everything. that isn't the nature of the sentiments expressed here." i didn't rephrase anything.

the difference is your attitude vs mine about other people that neither of us know. everyone knows a "bad attitude" sours everything, not because the rest of the world is suddenly foul, but because that's what you personally see. most people have the self awareness that's a personal problem and they should not change how they treat other people based on....personal mood. you can feel annoyed while understanding "annoyance and selfishness" is your own miasma and not what others meant.

that's. really the entire thesis. if we're going to declare hate is the default, and it's this hard for people to understand, perhaps we need to demonstrate why that's a bad idea.

"where is the content"

if we interpret the meaning in your way, this is someone who is either new to fandom or to a particular website. it is a normal question to ask. most people in the world never even know settings and manuals exist, let alone look at, understand, or change them: the things that control their experience. for clarity given the nature of this conversation, i do not mean "haha what a fucking entitled jackass" in the sense of your use of "ignorant"; i mean "figuring out and understanding things is hard for most people". let alone people who are new to a thing. asking something like this is normal, expected, and necessary. responding in the tune of "what an asshole" is unkind and establishes a gross atmosphere.

i daresay a lot of people are familiar with the lucky 10,000 comic. everyone likes that, but when it comes time to practice it? yeesh.

you misunderstood what i said above; i don't think it would be useful or correct to dismiss that as ""fucking ignorant"". it sure does make a lot of people feel good to do that though. which is the problem.

even going "where is the content????" is often "i am frustrated that i can't find these wonderful things everyone else easily finds, will someone show me". "where the fuck is everything" is the same idea in a much more combative tone; for some strange reason, it seems like that would be seen LESS negatively given the worldviews in this post.

imo, generally people ask "where is the content" to express that they have noticed there is less now than there used to be. hence: i love this so much, why don't other people.

people write in the style of how they talk when having an in person conversation. generally nobody goes around delicately crafting their punctuation to avoid the slew of wrong interpretations that are possible with any statement. let alone the cultural differences that can contribute to that. people assume you're going to understand them, or at least that you'll ask for clarification and not default to jumping down their throat. like, you know. the way people navigate normal conversations.

i don't know why people should have to put that much effort into what they say, while listeners not only don't but aren't expected to put in any thought to how they're interpreting it. the speaker has to accommodate literally every possible way they could be interpreted, including batshit aggressive ones (which means they have to assume their listeners are both.....ignorant....and nasty? unpleasant way to live.), while the listener gets to assume their knee jerk and negative assumptions are perfect and they can't have possibly misunderstood or inserted things that aren't there?

fuckin weird.

"why has all the hype died down"

if most people understand this, either this person is one of the ones that do not, or they don't mean it strictly literally.

if they do not understand it, again, asking why is a normal and expected thing. lucky ten thousand, yeah? responding negatively to that is....not nice. does not create a pleasant atmosphere. i don't think most people are familiar with serious fandom; most people aren't part of it, meaning they watch a thing, like it and move on without engaging further. the "fandom" people are generally familiar with is juggernauts that have lasted decades, things with dedicated yearly events: things that have never died down and the average person always likes. it is normal to think that if you like a thing, you don't suddenly stop. that's wrong, but it's how people think of fandom.

if they do not mean it literally, imo it usually means something to the effect of "why did people stop liking this". a normal thing to ask, especially if they also don't understand the fad nature that most fandoms go through.

"Why is there no more content why did everyone leave"

follows naturally from the previous. "there is nothing" generally means "i can't find anything". it's a request for help. people are uninclined to phrase it as "please help" because.....a lot of people respond to that with "haha what a fucking ignorant asshole". it should not be hard to see why that's destructive.

it could also mean "there is way less", which again, is normal to wonder. "there is way less" is only asked if you....want more. because you enjoy it. that brings us to

"it's about the blatent dismissal of creators' work and being content-hungry"

which you unambiguously mean in a negative way.

"i am sad that there is less" does require that the speaker enjoy the content and would like more. that is....the opposite of "blatent dismissal". the most common fan question is "will there be a sequel" and "what's the release date". you seem to think those are disgustingly hateful things to ask, which is a bit odd given that most fandoms get upset when their canon content is cancelled.

"i like this so much that i want more" is second breakfast and elevensies type behavior. of course people are.....content hungry. i think it's a bit mean to take gollum's view that pippin and merry are nassssty wicked hobbitses for that. it should be obvious that such an attitude drives people away and makes it feel like their appreciation isn't wanted.

....

i gotta say, i'm tickled pink that people who identify as "serious fans" deny that there can be meaning beside what you personally interpret, especially when the common fandom sentiment is "oh that was a clumsy accident, it doesn't mean anything deeper" while.....inserting all this extra meaning for actual, real, people who haven't had years to craft what they mean. we imbue two seconds of thought with hatred, but nothing for years' worth of a deliberate act?

"there is less" is about those who stopped. it is not about those who remain. it's quite obviously not about you. to answer with "it's not dead, i'm still posting" is to insert yourself where you weren't addressed. sir this is a wendy's. even when it IS a personal question, that's not inherently a demand to perform, it is literally just interest in you and your thoughts. "why" is not a hateful question. and even, EVEN a personal question, you still really can just. not answer at all. regardless of the valence you assign to it.

people are always going to have the same questions as other people, because every day someone new shows up, or someone old has a new thought. reality and your reaction to it are separate things. if they were not, we would have to shout down every kid asking endless whys, since obviously the parent's annoyance and frustration must be synonymous with the kid being a hateful greedy dismissive monster telling its mother she's not good enough, a child who needs to be taught that expressing interest is a sin. bad way to go about interacting with other people, if i do say so myself.

if you don't enjoy the culture of having everything you say reprocessed into its secret and true evil meaning that you obviously totally intended, perhaps we should. just not do that. to other people. as a general rule.

hostility is unpleasant to be around. there shouldn't even be "doubt" to benefit from, but even then, assuming other people aren't evil should not be treated as a sin. whereas doubt literally is a canonical sin.

'Where is all the Deadpool and Wolverine content'

'Why has all the hype died down'

'Why is there no more content why did everyone leave'

Meanwhile the people who are making the content are left feeling insulted because lord forbid we're not enough. Dude stfu and make your own stuff or didn't complain.

Do you see me whining about Boondock Saints? No! Because that's an old franchise and there's not near as much stuff as they're used to be, but I love everything that comes from it. And I don't ever complain.

[1ftinreality]

1ftinreality’s wolfstar fanfic recs - Jan 2025

@moonheavens makes these wolfstar fanfic rec lists that have led me to some incredible finds. so i wanted to take a stab at tracking my monthly reads, because this fandom is full of so many incredible people and i desperately need to yell about it! ah!

authors, if you’d like to be untagged, or if you’d like me to change/remove descriptions of your fic, please do let me know!

Some WIPs I have been losing my mind over

on another ocean by @colgatebluemintygel (133K, Explicit)

Sirius gets broken up with so of course he brings his BEST PAL Remus on a pre-planned romantic vacation across Europe. What could possibly go wrong??!!

Of Prefects, Pretence, and Precendent by Whoops_e (102K, Mature)

Remus is the fifth-year Gryffindor prefect and Sirius is a sixth-year who could not care less about swots. Or could he?

time passages by @fruityindividual (16K, Explicit)

They’re Hogwarts professors AND they’re ex-husbands!! Fruity_individual writes the best divorce fics and I CANNOT WAIT. 

Canon universe but better

Of Protein Powders and PTAs by @SquintClover and @Tracingpatternwrites (89K, Mature)

Enemies to lovers! Good soup! They’re on the Hogwarts PTA together, what could possibly go wrong?

Falling in Love Without You by @babblingflowers, @TherestheSnitch (51K, Explicit)

Sirius needs to get soul-bonded before his 20th birthday because of a Black family stipulation. He goes through the friend group looking for the perfect husband, and Remus helps him because of course he does :) 

Bound by @shiftylinguini (21K, Explicit)

Sirius comes back from the Veil to find Remus married to Tonks. They don’t talk about it, but they do… many other things instead.

Candy crush by bizarrestars (24K, Mature)

Remus has been sucking lollies to quit smoking. Sirius makes stealing them his hobby. Fluff, fluff for ages!

Modern AU

Writing Pages by @Dearamleo (118K, Explicit)

Remus is a struggling Masters student who meets Sirius at a house party. They don’t get along at first. 

A Brief History of Dragons by @eyra (23K, Mature)

Eyra always writes the softest, cosiest fics that soothe the soul. This is no exception. Sirius moves to Cornwall for the summer, where he meets a boy who may or may not be writing a book about dragons. 

The Road to Sweetwater by @EuripidesTrousers (57K, Explicit)

Bounty hunter Remus x Outlaw Sirius, with flavors of Brokeback Mountain. It’s about fighting back against an unjust system in spite of the odds, so, you know, not at all relevant to the state of the world right now. Every sentence, every phrase is so thought-through, I think I have half the fic highlighted just because of how beautiful it all is. 

The World is Waiting For You by thechanchanman (92K, Mature)

An Amazing Race AU! The silliest, sweetest banter, fluff all around! 

Sorry I'm Late - I Was Waiting For You by @euripidestrousers (84K, Explicit)

Obsessed with everything by euripidestrousers tbh. Sirius and Remus meet in college, but Remus is still a werewolf. 

I'm Waiting Here For You by ohyou-pretty-things (64K, Explicit)

Sugar daddy Sirius x sugar baby Remus. Such a gentle, lovely story, it’s like a big warm (spicy and fun) hug. 

Hurling Crowbirds at Mockingbars by @Wrapped-Up (40K, Explicit)

Exes to lovers, exes to lovers!! Remus ran off years ago but he’s back for some reason. Why??

Religious trauma?!?

Dear Your Holiness by @MollyMaryMarie (14K, Explicit)

Remus is a priest who helps Sirius write his dad’s eulogy. Breathtakingly thoughtful take on the hypocrises and contradictions of mainstream Catholicism.

The Fall by @euripidestrousers (13K, Explicit)

Remus is an elementary school teacher and Sirius is the devil, here to corrupt his soul. Oops.

Christmas AUs

Sweet Dreams of Holly and Robbin by @tealeavesandtrash (15K, Teens and Up)

Non-magical AU. Sirius visits the Potters in Hogsmeade and meets Remus, the local bookstore owner. Warm, festive vibes all around. 

Dear Mr Black by @languagelessonswolfstar (73K, Explicit)

Sirius is a celebrity chef who takes a career break at Remus’s BnB. MsAlex has the loveliest Xmas fics, and this is no exception. 

Short fics

Remus Lupin and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Book Signing by @severedreamerfox (3K, Mature)

Remus is a public school librarian and Sirius is a children’s book author. Cute stuff all around!

Open Thoughts by @marigold-hills (3K, Mature)

Sirius becomes a temporary Occlumens after getting hit by a stray spell during an Auror mission. He becomes very, very aware of how his dear friend and roommate thinks about him.

What became of the dreams we had by @aryastark_valarmorghulis (8K. Mature)

Sirius visits Remus after Goblet of Fire. A sweet little fix-it of sorts.

Basilisks, Boggarts, and Boyfriends (oh my) by OptimisticDinosaur (8K, Teens and Up)

Sirius has the hots for the Dark Magic Exterminator he hired to clear out his parents’ place. So he starts planting Dark Creatures in his house to make Remus come back. Harry befriends a Basilisk in the meantime. 

This One's Just Right by thechanchanman (10K, Explicit)

Too many mattresses! A modern AU where James accidentally locks them in a mattress store.

[itsnesss]

can u plss do a junho angst fic there are barely any good fics for him 😔

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | you infiltrate the games for revenge, but meeting jun-ho, a disguised detective, complicates everything. when your cover is blown, he sacrifices himself to save you, forcing you to flee

warnings | angst, tension, suspense, moral ambiguity, desesperation, sacrifice, revenge, vulnerability

word count | 1.7 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The first time you see his face, you’re not sure if it’s a dream or a nightmare. The red uniform hides everything, as if his humanity is diluted beneath the masquerade of his role. But his eyes… there’s something in his eyes that makes you doubt. You recognize him before he recognizes you. That man, that guard, is not one of them. He’s not a pawn. He moves too precisely, his actions calculated, as though observing every corner, every shadow, every breath.

You watch him from the shadows, your mind racing. He shouldn’t be here, just like you. The difference is, you know why you’re here. The mission is clear. Revenge. To dismantle this cursed game from within. But him? Who is he?

Night falls slowly, and you’re alone, cleaning one of the cells that was just used in the latest trial. The blood on the floor hasn’t dried yet. The air is heavy, charged, as if everything is about to explode. Then you hear it. His footsteps, light but firm, approaching behind you.

You turn quickly, your hand instinctively reaching for the weapon at your side. The cold steel against your palm is a momentary comfort. But when you see his face, when your eyes meet his, you don’t feel fear—only a strange discomfort.

He doesn’t look at you like the others do. He doesn’t see you as a threat. Something in his gaze says he’s studying you. It’s as if he can see right through you.

“Who are you?” he asks, his voice soft, almost inaudible.

Your heart leaps in your chest. You can’t let him find out who you are. Not now. Not ever.

“What do you want?” you reply, keeping your tone cold, distant. You can’t afford to show any vulnerability. Not now.

“I know,” he says, without hesitation. “You’re not like the others. What are you doing here?”

You’re caught off guard by how close he is to the truth. But you can’t give in. You can’t let him get too close. The mission is all that matters. You can’t let anything distract you.

“The same as you,” you reply, the air between you tense, like it could be cut with a knife. The word “lie” hangs in the air, but he doesn’t take it. Instead, he steps closer to you.

“Jun-ho,” he says, extending his hand with a confidence that leaves no room for doubt. His name sounds familiar, but you don’t know why. You don’t have time to think about that. You can’t think about that.

Taking his hand is a decision that consumes you. Something inside you screams that you’re making a fatal mistake, but something in his eyes, in his gesture, prevents you from refusing.

Time passes, and the tension between you grows palpable. You can no longer look at him without a strange feeling of discomfort rising in your chest. You know things are changing. You know your mission is beginning to fall apart. But you can’t stop. You can’t let him go.

Jun-ho is everything you’re not: calm, calculated, but always observing. Always alert. One day, he catches you off guard when you find him watching one of the security cameras in the control center—a place only the highest-ranking personnel should be. He gives you a look as you enter. You don’t need to hear his words to know what he wants.

“I’m here to dismantle this,” he says quietly, almost like a whisper, afraid someone might hear. “And you?”

Your eyes meet, and for a second, the world seems to stop. A wave of anguish washes over you, a pressure in your chest that you don’t know how to handle. The truth hangs there, floating between you, too big to ignore.

“I’m here for my brother,” you respond, unable to hide the anger igniting in your voice. Your brother. The one who died here. The one who never had a chance. Every word you say feels like a fresh wound. “And I won’t let anyone else suffer the same.”

Jun-ho nods, as if he already knew. As if he’d already guessed. There’s something in his gaze, something in his expression, that makes you think he’s not so different from you.

As the days go by, the anguish grows. It becomes harder and harder to stay away from him. The conversations, the glances, the small interactions… Everything you’ve built so far is undermined by the unexpected connection that has formed between you. He looks at you in a way you never imagined anyone would, and every time his eyes meet yours, a lump forms in your throat.

But you can’t afford distractions. You know the endgame is approaching, that the operation is intensifying, and you need to be ready to act at any moment. But Jun-ho… Jun-ho has become a weight on your chest. A constant pressure you can’t ignore.

The moment everything falls apart comes without warning. A new trial is about to begin, and everything seems out of control. The participants are more violent than ever, and the tensions among the guards are evident. You’re standing in a hallway, silently observing, when a figure catches your attention. A guard, one of the higher-ranking ones, points at you.

“You?” he says, his tone suspicious. “What are you doing here?”

In that instant, you know. He knows what you’re doing. The masquerade is over.

Before you can react, the gun is pointed at you. Fear consumes you in a second, but then you hear a shout. A familiar shout.

“No!”

Jun-ho appears out of nowhere, taking down the guard with a speed that leaves you breathless. But it’s already too late. The noise has alerted the others, and you can hear hurried footsteps approaching.

“Run,” Jun-ho orders, his face grim, his eyes shining with an intensity that makes you hesitate. “Now!”

“Not without you,” you reply, shaking your head. But Jun-ho is already pushing you toward the exit. Desperation overwhelms you, but you do it. You do what he says because you know if you stay, everything will be lost.

...

You escape. You don’t know how, but you do. You find yourself among the shadows, breathing heavily, the weight of guilt pressing on your chest. Every step you take pulls you further away from Jun-ho.

But weeks pass, and there’s no news of him. The anguish of not knowing if he’s alive consumes you. You find yourself watching every shadow, hoping he’ll appear, but all you find is silence.

Finally, when you can’t bear it anymore, it comes. The message. An anonymous note left in your hideout, with just a few words written in handwriting you know all too well.

“I’m alive. I’m still here.”

The anxiety you felt dissipates, but the uncertainty remains. He’s there, but at what cost? What sacrifices have you both made to reach this point? The answer is yet to come, but for now, you know the only thing that matters: Jun-ho is alive, and you, though broken, are one step closer to justice.

[animentality]

I know x reader fans have always existed, and I don't generally mind them.

however I feel like the way they've overtaken fandom analysis/ shipping culture is an indication of the general decline of fandom communities.

they are normies, guys. I'm sorry.

it's not a slur, it's just a fact.

normies infiltrated fandom spaces because of covid.

they come in and just want to thirst after a particular character... and that's like. fine. of course it's fine it's always happened.

but they don't seem to actually care about the character being in character. nor does it really require any analysis of that character's motivations or story, or their relationship with others.

I know not everything HAS to relate to canon. like duh, we are here to make our own canon.

but come the fuck on. I go into a tag and it has a character tagged being some dommy daddy when that character is nothing like that in canon... and there's this line between making a character act a certain way bc that's your fetish, and completely ignoring who that character is entirely to the point where you could just replace their name with anyone else in any other show, and it wouldn't make a difference?

like that's... normie shit. it's people who do not think deeply or passionately about that media, it's just them having this surface level grasp of the physical attractiveness of the character.

and again. I'm not saying these people are stupid or whatever, just that the overabundance of this watered down ass content is an indicator of how much fandom has changed.

fans are not the socially awkward introverted queer voyeurs anymore, who enjoy fantasies and daydreaming about being someone else because of this disconnect with the self, or this fear of others that leads you to seek human connection in fiction.

they're the people who do just fine with other people ... and I'm not gatekeeping fandom from people who aren't socially awkward or anything.

but they come here, and they do shit like say you can't like this ship bc it's morally wrong .. you're not allowed to thirst after an 18 year old that makes you a pedophile... I'm 15 and I'm allowed to lust for Gojo but you a 25 year old woman, aren't allowed to write itafushi fanfiction.

go back to taxes and your job!!!

like that drives me fucking insane. these people want to insist they're not normies but they then go around insisting that being over 20 means you need to Work and Be a Normal Adult... bitch.

adults make fandoms. not you fucking children. you don't know how to build communities, you barely know how to make friends.

attacking people who like the same thing you do? is that what you think community building is?

oh this poor generation. anyway.

they come here and are disgusted by weird fetishes and obsessions. and by people sharing sexual headcanons or ideas about sexuality that make them uncomfortable because they've never ever been counter culture, they've never felt the need to go against the status quo.

they're cis straight girls/women mostly, whose mothers basically fuel the ya spicy romance booktok industry.

they're just younger and think it's trendier to be "in a fandom" than a fucking book club.

they're modern day bodice ripper fans... which again

would be so fucking fine, if they weren't doing the youth version of karening the fuck out.

and flooding the fandom with both hyper criticism of how you conduct your business AND an aggressive market for just imagining yourself with a character.

like fandom was originally just hyper passionate freaks.

they discussed movies and TV shows like life and death. they were fucking nuts but in the way where they needed to seek one another out, to share in this joyous sensation of being a freak obsessed with something beyond the point of reason.

now?

now it's like ... oh.

Sally from Bio thinks your love of Gaara is super creepy when you're 19. like what, are you a pedophile? why are you imagining him getting married to Naruto? are you a fucking pedophile who gets off to teens making out? they need to check your hard drive!!

like ok Sally.

ok.

I just think x reader is such a strong indicator of what kind of fan you are.

and if a fandom is mostly x reader... then it can't be that popular. it can't be a proper community.

how can it be?

it's as watered down and generic and bland as a marvel movie. it's stripped down of anything unique. it is pruned of controversy and humanity.

you are literally stripping yourself down into a non character.

you're not truly projecting yourself into a character, because the you that you read about is nothing. a placeholder. you are a passive observing robot who exists only in the form of a faceless and personality less entity.

and I don't get it.

what's the point then?

isn't fiction about realizing something about yourself or others

if your only manner of engaging is stripping yourself of personality... is it engagement at all?

or is it just more mindless consumption?

just watch law and order, man.

watch the good doctor or some shit on lifetime.

there's shows with passionate fanbases who theory craft and endlessly obsess with relationships and world building, and then there's shows with x reader only content and you know exactly why now.

[agirlwithglam]

📚 It girl's guide to school 📚

hiii girls! this is part of the big Guide to being the It Girl. this section will be all about school, studying and academics. i'll teach you how to tackle school, get the highest grades effortlessly, and look chic and gorgeous doing it! the rest of the ultimate it girl series is linked! 🎀

guide to getting good grades:

LISTEN IN CLASS. one of the best tips ever. if you would actually listen to what your teachers teaching in class, you’d get to spend a lot less time studying.

ask if you need help! these teachers are qualified for the job, they’re meant to be good at it. so if you don’t understand something, don’t be afraid to ask. and if you’re really too much of a chicken, ask once the class is over or email the teacher. but honestly? half the kids probably aren’t even listening tbh so u do ur thing!

participate in class. actually participating in class will help you so much in recalling the information. it’s a great way to actively revise. you don’t have to be a teachers pet or anything, but if you know the answer, put yourself out there. anyone who judges you simply judges themselves and their inability to speak up.

change up your environment so that you're still interested and excited to learn! you could go to a coffee shop, set up a mini picnic in the woods, go to a library, etc.

use alter egos!! i will never stop recommending this because it really is an amazing tip. either you can create your own alter ego who loves to study and gets high grades, or you could pretend you're rory gilmore or hermione granger!

revision/ study techniques:

feynman technique: teach it to someone else/ to plushies. try not to look at your notes too much, pretend ur a teacher.

use practice questions/ practice exams! trust me this can be so helpful! try and find past exams and go over them in exam conditions so you can see what u missed later. or, you can get all the info and ask an AI like chatgpt to write questions based on it and go through them!

BLURTING! love this method! basically, you write all the information you know about the topic on one page (optional: set a time limit) and then go over it with a different colour pen and add in what you missed. do this a couple times until you haven't missed anything! - you can do this by creating a mind-map, or literally just scribbling down everything you know.

SQ3R method: survey/ skim over the text, question- make questions on it, read- begin reading to find the answers to the questions, recite- summarise the words in a section in your own words, review- quiz yourself on what you just learnt

organise/ prioritise what you need to study using the traffic light method. first, identify the topics, then highlight them according to these 3 colors: red- struggling a lot/ no idea , yellow- okay ish, need to work on it a bit tho , green- good understanding & confident on the topic.

make associations. this is especially helpful for when you need to memorise things. the thing you need to memorise- link it to stuff that you already know.

⭐️ use mnemonics, songs, raps to remember! a couple years back, my science teacher made us create a rap on osmosis (a biology term). and not even kidding, i still remember the simple definition of what it does because of that rap! so create songs or rap and maybe even make a whole music video on it! trust me, not only is it so fun but it really does help keep the information in your mind!

more resources:

huge big list of studying and school

another big study masterpost

100 reasons to study

how to be a whole new student this year

ACE your exams -by me!

study icons:

as i mentioned earlier, channelling the energy of a character who already studies and gets good grades is an amazing way of getting yourself motivated! here are some of my favs & tips to study like them! (p.s i've also added links to the names for a more in depth guide on each person!)

♡ rory gilmore

she loves studying- develop that mindset! have a passion for learning more.

"i can go from 0 to studying in less than 60 seconds"

switch between different subjects when you get bored

ask someone to test you with flashcards

♡ elle woods:

study while you exercise- take care of ur body too!

"what, like its hard?"- i love her sm for this!! if anyone else can do something, of course you can do it too!

be ambitious + have strong source of motivation

get into study groups

♡ paris geller

have the discipline and ambition to do the things that will get you to where you want.

"i want to win, and i'm going to win." - love this, she's sure of herself and confident in her abilities.

prioritise & use to do lists

start early to be the top of your class!

♡ blair waldorf

honestly its so fun to embody her energy of high value, cares about her education, so confident and takes no sh*t from others!

"anything you can do, i can do better"

always have a plan

have flash cards, take notes

♡ hermione granger

always participate in class!

read more about the material. + learn more!

teach others & help them study

finish the hw/ work quickly and do the extra credit!

stylish in school 101:

SURVIVING SCHOOL AIR: here are some tips to staying/ looking pretty and refreshed all day at school bc u and i both know the horrors of school air 🙀 :)

DRINK WATER. stay hydrated - very important. always drink water. this keeps your lips hydrated, face hydrated, and just makes you look a lil less dead.

lip gloss/ lip balm to reapply throughout the day, esp for my girlies with chapped lips! i keep lip balm in my pocket so its always there when needed, but you can also keep it in your locker/ bag/ pencil case.

perfume. you can keep it in your locker/ bag/ pencil case to spray whenever needed and smell sweet and amazing the entire day <3

stop touching your face!! your hands have so much crusty dust and bacteria that can give pimples on your face.

keep hair away from your face. leave it out if you want, but try to make sure it doesn't touch your face too much- it also has tons of crusty musty dusty germs

keep a hairbrush in your locker. listen, i know how messy hair can get during school so keeping it in school is SO helpful to maintain the tidyness and cleanliness

waterproof makeup - if you wear makeup.

sunscreen!! keep. applying. SUNSCREENN!! i'm not going to elaborate further on this point.

ACCESSORISING YOUR UNIFORM!!

this is for the girlies who have a school uniform! i understand it can be so annoying so to have more fun and feel more confident, ACCESSORIZEE everything as much as you're allowed! here are some ideas!

♡ necklesses

♡ bracelets

♡ bows in your hair

♡ bows in your bag

♡ bows everywhere basically 🎀

♡ decorate your ipad/ pencilcase with stickers

♡ headbands

♡ rings

♡ cute earrings

♡ cute watch

♡ nails

♡ a cute clip!

the ultimate it girl series

xoxo, vanilla!