#I WASN'T EVEN GOING TO LOOK AT THE CDS

[as-dreamers-do]

God is Good part 23o45279q85

-yesterday at goodwill with my mom, found a mug with a little white baby seal in the bottom AND a sacred CD for 50 cents that I loved as a kid but is fairly hard to find 

-church guy was at the morning service! and timing was such that he held the door into the auditorium open for me when we came down from the choir loft before the sermon! and eye contact (or an approximation thereof) was made! it was just so unexpected and satisfying and excellent after last Sunday’s stress, God was so clearly like “you can have a little treat, on My terms tho”

-former-crush Canadian organist dude was back in town for his sister’s graduation! so he came to church! and i actually went up to talk to him briefly after the evening service! (Mem., this proves i have the ability to go up to people and start talking to them at church ergo i should probably do that more oops)

[ceeaann]

— The guy she was interested in wasn't a guy at all?!

Pairing - Vi x Reader Summary - You’ve been crushing on the mysterious, mask-wearing clerk at your favorite record store—cool, quiet, and effortlessly charming. Determined to get closer, you come up with a plan to get his number. There’s just one problem. He’s not a he at all. Vi, your sharp-tongued, short-tempered classmate, has been keeping her double life a secret. But as you fall harder and she struggles to keep up the act, one question remains— What happens when the truth finally comes out? Content - 12.1k words, a valentine special collab with @kkoga (angst monster) , heavily inspired by tgswiiwaga, slow-burn romance, angst → confusion → self-discovery, avoidance & self-isolation, mild language, miscommunication, misgendering (unintentional), emotional distress and sexuality questioning

You first spotted him at that record store. A tiny, dimly lit shop tucked between a laundromat and a café, stacked floor to ceiling with vinyl, cassettes, and CDs. The kind of place that smelled like dust, nostalgia, and warm, worn-out wood.

And he was there—behind the counter, hood up, face half-hidden behind a mask, rifling through a stack of records like he had been living and breathing music since birth.

You could barely see his face, but a few strands of messy red-pink hair peeked out from under the hoodie. When he finally glanced up—just for a second—sharp, powder-blue eyes locked onto you before flicking away, completely uninterested.

Damn.

You weren’t usually into the quiet, mysterious types. You liked confident, showy people who could match your energy. But there was something about him—about the way he moved, the way he seemed lost in his own world—that made your heart stutter.

And just like that, you were hooked.

So, naturally, you kept coming back.

“Yo,” you greeted casually, leaning against the counter one afternoon, your acrylic nails tapping against the glass. “Got any new recommendations for me today, mystery clerk?”

He barely spared you a glance before exhaling sharply. “You again?” His voice was low, gruff—maybe even a little annoyed.

Cute.

“Duh. You’ve got the best taste,” you grinned, propping your chin on your hand. “Or are you finally gonna tell me your name so I can stop calling you ‘mystery clerk’?”

He huffed, crossing his arms. “Buy something, or go home.”

Oof. Rude. But also… hot.

You tilted your head. “C’mon, can’t a girl just appreciate some good music recs?”

Another sigh. But this time, he actually moved, reaching under the counter to pull out a vinyl. “Here,” he said flatly, sliding it over to you. “You’ll like this.”

You blinked. “Oh? Finally warming up to me?”

Those powder-blue eyes flicked up, unimpressed. “You just won’t shut up otherwise.”

Your heart did a stupid little flip.

Yep. You were definitely into him.

And before you knew it, visiting that record store became part of your routine.

You weren’t even sure why you kept coming back. The mystery clerk wasn’t exactly friendly. If anything, he barely tolerated you. But there was something intriguing about him—the way he never said more than necessary, the way his powder-blue eyes flickered with something unreadable whenever you tried to pry.

You wanted to crack him open. Figure him out.

Make him look at you the way you looked at him.

So you kept pushing.

Vi tried not to react when she heard the familiar jingle of the bell. Kept her head down, shuffling through the stack of records in front of her like she hadn’t already memorized every title.

She had no reason to be nervous.

She’d been working at this shop for months. She’d dealt with all kinds of customers. Music nerds, college students, old guys trying to relive their youth.

But you?

You were different.

You were loud and bright, a walking storm of acrylic nails, glittery accessories, and the kind of confidence that made Vi’s skin itch.

And yet, for some reason, she kept coming back.

Always with that same teasing smirk, the same relentless energy, the same stupid, flirty lines that made Vi's ears burn.

And the worst part?

Vi didn’t hate it.

Which was exactly why she needed to shut this down.

You leaned onto the counter, watching as the mystery clerk sorted through records like he hadn’t just heard you enter.

The usual, then.

“hello,” you greeted, tilting your head to try and catch a glimpse of his face. “You're gonna pretend I don’t exist today, or are we finally on speaking terms?”

A sigh. Then, without looking up, he muttered, “You always exist. That’s the problem.”

You gasped, clutching your chest dramatically. “Wow. That’s the coldest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Still, no reaction.

Damn. Tough crowd.

You tapped your nails against the glass counter. “Sooo, what’s the deal? You got a name, or do I have to keep calling you ‘mystery clerk’?”

He exhaled through his nose. “I have a name.”

“Care to share it with the class?”

A pause. Then, dryly—

“No.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

God, he was so difficult. And yet, the more he pushed you away, the more you wanted to see what was underneath all that gruffness.

One day, you were gonna crack him.

But now, you weren’t sure when things shifted.

Maybe it was the day he let you browse through the records behind the counter, even though he definitely wasn’t supposed to.

Maybe it was the time you caught him humming along to a song playing over the speakers, and even though he noticed you staring, he didn’t stop.

Or maybe it was that night, when you showed up just before closing, soaked from the rain.

You weren’t planning to go to the shop. You were just walking home, feeling restless, when your feet carried you there anyway.

When you stepped inside, shivering and dripping onto the floor, he looked up—really looked up—for the first time in forever.

And for a moment, you could’ve sworn you saw concern flicker in those powder-blue eyes.

“…You’re soaked,” he said flatly.

You sniffed. “Yeah, no shit.”

Instead of giving you his usual annoyed look, he sighed, reached behind the counter, and—

Tossed you a towel.

You blinked, catching it. “Wait, what—”

“You’re getting water everywhere,” he muttered, turning away like this wasn’t a big deal. “Dry off before the old man yells at me.”

You clutched the towel, staring at him in disbelief.

It wasn’t much. Just a small, quiet moment.

But your heart thumped all the same.

Vi cursed herself the second she tossed the towel.

Damn it. That was too nice.

Now she was gonna get attached.

The next day at school, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

The way his voice sounded, low and cool. The way his hands moved when flipping through records. The way he just knew your taste in music without you even saying anything.

You sighed, resting your chin on your desk. “Ugh. I think I have a crush.”

Your friend beside you, blowing a bubble with their gum, raised a brow. “What, again? Who’s the unlucky victim this time?”

You huffed. “First of all, rude. Second, it’s this guy at the record store. He’s, like, super cool. Doesn’t talk much, but he totally has good music taste.”

Your friend snorted. “So you like him ‘cause he ignores you?”

“…Maybe.”

Before they could tease you more, the classroom door slid open, and a familiar figure strolled in.

Violet.

Vi was a known delinquent. Not the kind that skipped school completely, but the kind that barely followed any rules. Untucked uniform, tie loosened, red-pink hair a mess. She always had a band-aid or two somewhere—probably from getting into fights—and a permanent scowl on her face.

You barely paid attention to her but she looked… weirdly familiar.

You frowned, tilting your head slightly. Do I know her from somewhere?

Before you could figure it out, your friend nudged you. “So, are you gonna keep gushing about your record store crush or what?”

Oh. Right.

You shook off the thought and leaned forward with a dreamy sigh. “Okay, so he’s, like, insanely cool. He barely talks, but when he does? God. It’s like… y’know that mysterious, effortlessly hot vibe? That.”

Beside you, Vi choked on her drink.

You blinked at her. “Uh. You good?”

Vi cleared her throat aggressively, looking anywhere but at you. “Y-Yeah. Fine. Totally fine.”

You shrugged and continued, unaware of the way Vi’s entire face was burning. “Anyway, his voice? Hot. His eyes? Even hotter. He’s kinda mean, but in, like, an attractive way—”

Vi sank lower in her seat, hands gripping the hem of her blazer.

“Oh!” You clapped your hands together. “And he knows music. Like, he took one look at me and picked out the perfect album. I swear, we’ve got a connection.”

Vi shut her eyes. Oh my god, stop talking.

Your friend snickered. “Damn, you’re really down bad.”

You groaned, flopping dramatically onto the desk. “I know. But he’s just so—ugh.”

Vi pressed her fists to her burning cheeks, willing herself to disappear.

This was hell.

She was right there, sitting right next to you, and you still hadn’t realized.

And worst of all?

Now she knew exactly how much you liked her.

Sitting in class, listening to you ramble about your massive, embarrassing, painfully obvious crush—on her—and knowing you had no idea.

Vi had faced a lot of things in her life. Street fights, school suspensions, even the occasional run-in with cops.

But this?

This was worse.

She stared straight ahead, jaw clenched so hard it hurt, trying desperately to tune you out.

No luck.

“…and the way he looks at me? Like, I swear he knows I like him.”

Vi swallowed. Oh, she has no idea.

Your friend hummed. “So why don’t you just confess?”

Vi nearly had a heart attack.

Your head flopped dramatically onto your desk. “Because I don’t wanna ruin the mystery, y’know? Like, what if he’s only cool because I don’t actually know him?”

Vi’s eye twitched. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Your friend snorted. “You’re overthinking it. He’s just some random guy at a record store.”

Vi exhaled.

Yes. Exactly.

Just some random guy.

And if Vi had anything to say about it, you were gonna keep thinking that for as long as humanly possible.

Because there was no way in hell she was letting you figure this out.

This was a nightmare.

Sitting in class, listening to you ramble about your massive, embarrassing, painfully obvious crush—on her—and knowing you had no idea.

Vi had faced a lot of things in her life. Street fights, school suspensions, even the occasional run-in with cops.

But this?

This was worse.

She stared straight ahead, jaw clenched so hard it hurt, trying desperately to tune you out.

No luck.

“…and the way he looks at me? Like, I swear he knows I like him.”

Vi swallowed. Oh, she has no idea.

Your friend hummed. “So why don’t you just confess?”

Vi nearly had a heart attack.

Your head flopped dramatically onto your desk. “Because I don’t wanna ruin the mystery, y’know? Like, what if he’s only cool because I don’t actually know him?”

Vi’s eye twitched. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Your friend snorted. “You’re overthinking it. He’s just some random guy at a record store.”

Vi exhaled.

Yes. Exactly.

Just some random guy.

And if Vi had anything to say about it, you were gonna keep thinking that for as long as humanly possible.

Because there was no way in hell she was letting you figure this out. 

Vi squeezed her eyes shut.

If she just… stayed like this. Face down. Motionless.

Maybe—just maybe—she could die right here and now.

Vi needed a plan.

And fast.

Because there was no way she could survive another class period sitting next to you, listening to you go on about your crush—who, again, was her.

The problem was, she had no idea how to fix this.

Telling you outright? Not happening. That was practically social suicide.

Quitting the record store? No way. She actually liked that job.

Avoiding you? Also impossible, considering you were apparently obsessed with showing up at the store to flirt with her alter ego.

Which left her with only one option:

She had to make you lose interest.

Somehow.

Vi groaned, raking a hand through her hair. This was gonna suck.

DAY 1 

You were back at the record store the next day.

Because of course you were.

You’d spent the entire walk hyping yourself up, promising yourself you’d be cool, casual, and definitely not flustered.

But the second you stepped inside and saw him—hood up, mask on, flipping through records like he hadn’t just been staring in your daydreams all morning—your brain short-circuited.

You cleared your throat, pushing down the nervous excitement bubbling in your chest.

“Hello.”

Vi—er, mystery guy—didn’t even look up. “You again.”

You grinned. “Awww, you remember me.”

He sighed, muttering something under his breath. You caught the words so annoying but chose to ignore them.

Because, really, if he really thought you were annoying, he wouldn’t keep talking to you, right?

You leaned onto the counter. “So. Any recommendations for today?”

He slid a record toward you without hesitation.

You blinked down at it. “Wait… this is—”

“Obscure. Hard to find. And way outside your usual taste.”

Your grin widened. “You’re trying to get rid of me.”

“Obviously.”

Adorable.

You picked up the record, inspecting the cover. “Damn. If you’re gonna break my heart, at least do it gently.”

Vi—mystery guy—huffed, finally meeting your gaze. “I’m being very gentle.”

You laughed. God, he was fun to mess with.

And despite his whole act, you knew he didn’t actually hate you.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t always be so prepared for your visits.

You plopped the record onto the counter. “I’ll take it.”

“…What.”

You shrugged. “You picked it out for me, didn’t you? Can’t let your efforts go to waste.”

He stared at you like you’d just confessed to murder.

You smirked, fishing some cash out of your pocket. “Guess you’re stuck with me a little longer, huh?”

For a second—just a second—you swore you saw the tips of his ears turn red.

But then he scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

You winked. “And yet, you love seeing me.”

He didn’t answer.

But he also didn’t deny it. 

Shit.

This was not going according to plan.

She was supposed to be pushing you away, not accidentally making you like her even more.

This was bad.

Very, very bad.

And the worst part?

A tiny, traitorous part of her didn’t hate it.

DAY 2

Vi wasn’t nervous.

Nope. Not at all.

Sure, she’d spent the entire morning convincing herself that you wouldn’t talk to her at school—because why would you? In your mind, she didn’t exist outside of that damn record store.

And sure, maybe her heart did skip a beat when she spotted you walking into class, chatting animatedly with your friends.

But she was not nervous.

The moment the teacher started reading out pairs for the group assignment, Vi barely paid attention—until she heard your name.

And then—

“…paired with Vi.”

Vi’s stomach dropped.

Oh, hell no.

She sat up so fast her knee banged against the desk. A few students turned to look, but she barely noticed.

There had to be a mistake.

You? Paired with her?

“Yo, Vi, chill out.” one of the guys snickered from across the room. 

Vi clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to chuck her notebook at him.

Meanwhile, you turned in your seat, scanning the classroom until your eyes landed on her.

Vi stiffened.

Your gaze lingered for a second, your head tilting slightly, like you were trying to place her.

And then—just like that—your expression shifted into something casual.

“Oh,” you said, getting up from your chair. “Guess that’s me.”

You walked over, dropping into the seat beside her without hesitation.

She should’ve skipped. She should’ve skipped.

“Alright,” you sighed, flipping through the worksheet. “Let’s get this over with.”

Vi swallowed hard, gripping her pen like it was a lifeline. “Yeah. Sure.”

You tapped your fingers against the desk, reading the first question. “Alright, uh… What do you think?”

Vi blinked. “Huh?”

You gave her a look. “The question, dude. C’mon, stay with me.”

Vi’s brain short-circuited. Dude? You just called her dude?

“Right,” she muttered, clearing her throat. “Uh, I guess…” She skimmed the worksheet, barely processing the words. “This one?” She pointed to a random answer.

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Vi hesitated. “...No?”

You snorted. “Yeah, let’s go with something else.”

Vi groaned internally. Great. She was an idiot and you thought she was dumb. This was just perfect.

To her credit, you didn’t seem too annoyed. If anything, you were just amused. You scribbled down an answer, tapping the pen against your chin. “Alright, next one…”

Vi exhaled slowly.

She just had to act normal. Keep it cool. Do the stupid assignment. And not think about how ridiculously close you were sitting.

Easy.

Totally easy.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t a disaster.

The two of you managed to get through the assignment without any major incidents. You mostly did the writing while Vi tried not to make a fool of herself.

And now, as you leaned back in your chair, stretching, you let out a satisfied sigh.

“Alright, that’s done,” you said. “You’re not completely useless, I guess.”

Vi huffed out a laugh. “High praise.”

You smirked, tossing your pen onto the desk. “Gotta give credit where it’s due.”

Vi wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she just nodded.

A few seconds passed.

Then, just as quickly as you’d entered her space, you got up, gathering your things.

“Well, see ya.”

And just like that, you were gone, off to rejoin your friends, laughing at something one of them said.

Vi exhaled, slumping back in her chair.

Crisis mostly averted.

But she was way too close to being caught.

DAY 3

Vi was not about to let herself slip up.

Not now. Not ever.

So after her shift at the record store, she did what she always did—ripped out her piercings, scrubbed off her black nail polish, and made sure her school uniform looked just normal enough to keep you from noticing anything.

It was foolproof.

…Or so she thought.

Because the next morning, when she sat down in class, she made the fatal mistake of stretching her hands out on her desk.

And you noticed.

“Wait a second.”

Vi’s heart stopped.

She barely had time to react before you grabbed her hand, lifting it up for inspection.

“Your nails…” you murmured, narrowing your eyes.

Vi froze.

Oh shit.

There was still a faint trace of black nail polish around the edges of her nails, smudged just enough to be noticeable.

And the way you were staring at it?

Yeah. She was so dead.

Your brows furrowed in concentration. “This color… I feel like I’ve seen it before.”

Vi yanked her hand away, forcing a scoff. “It’s just nail polish. Who cares?”

You ignored her, eyes flickering in thought. Then, slowly—dangerously—your expression shifted.

Your lips parted slightly. “No way…”

Vi stiffened. Oh god, oh god, oh god—

You snapped your fingers. “The music store guy has the exact same nail polish.”

Vi’s stomach flipped.

Was this it? Was this how she got caught?

You stared at her for another few seconds, tilting your head.

Vi could feel the gears turning in your brain.

And then—

“…Meh.”

Vi blinked. “Huh?”

You waved a hand dismissively. “Probably a coincidence.”

Vi nearly collapsed from sheer relief.

You yawned, resting your chin in your palm. “Man, that guy’s been on my mind a lot lately. Think I should ask for his number?”

Vi’s entire body locked up.

She plastered on the most uninterested face she could manage. “Dunno. Maybe he’d say no.”

You snorted. “Pfft. Yeah, right. I’m adorable.”

Vi buried her face in her arms.

She was going to die.

DAY 4

Vi had been doing so well.

She’d managed to keep you clueless, survived another school day without getting caught, and even convinced herself that she was totally in control of this whole situation.

And then you showed up at the record store with that damn smile.

“Hey, mystery guy.”

Vi didn’t look up. “Back again? We're about to close.”

“Obviously.” You leaned against the counter, eyes twinkling. “And today, I actually need your help.”

Vi exhaled, pretending to be annoyed. “You always need my help.”

You ignored that. “So, I was thinking… You’ve got good taste in music, right?”

Vi smirked. “Clearly.”

“Well, I wanna hear it.” You grinned. “Make me a playlist.”

Vi blinked. “What.”

“You know. A playlist. Songs you think I’d like.”

Vi’s stomach dropped.

Oh, hell no.

That was dangerous. Too personal. Too close. Too much room for slipping up.

She needed an excuse. Something to shut this down fast.

“Nah,” she said flatly. “Not my problem.”

Your smile didn’t waver. “Oh, come on. I know you have a good one in mind. Just send it to me.”

“I don’t—”

“Here.”

Before Vi could react, you grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand toward you.

She stiffened instantly.

Because oh god, you were holding her hand.

Not just holding—writing on it.

Her brain completely short-circuited.

She barely processed the way your fingers traced over her skin, the slight ticklish sensation of the pen gliding against it, the casual ease with which you invaded her space like it was the most natural thing in the world.

By the time she snapped out of it, it was too late.

You pulled back, capping your pen with a satisfied nod.

“There,” you said. “That’s my number.”

Vi stared at her palm like it was a ticking bomb.

You winked. “Send me the playlist, okay?”

Vi swallowed. “Uh.”

You gave her a little wave, completely unaware of the absolute meltdown she was having.

“See ya, mystery guy.”

Then, just like that, you walked out.

Leaving Vi standing there.

With your number.

On her hand.

And the horrifying realization that she had no way out of this.

The second you stepped out of the record store, you bolted around the corner, whipped out your phone, and immediately started typing.

Grinning, you typed back.

Your phone practically exploded with notifications.

Your friends lost their minds in the chat.

You laughed, slipping your phone back into your pocket.

This was too fun.

Now, all you had to do was wait.

The second you walked out of the record store, Vi knew she was screwed.

It wasn’t just because you had given her your number. No—if it had been just that, she could’ve ignored it. Pretended she lost it. Lied about never seeing it.

But no. You wrote it on her damn hand.

And worse? You did it so casually—like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like it didn’t completely knock the air out of her lungs and set her brain on fire.

Vi was still standing there, completely frozen, when a low chuckle rumbled from the back of the store.

“You’re still in one piece, huh?”

Vi snapped out of it just in time to see Vander, her adoptive father and technically the shop’s owner, smirking as he wiped down the counter.

Powder, Vi’s little sister, was leaning dramatically against the nearest shelf, watching her with wide eyes. “Vi. Oh my God. You got a girl’s number.”

Vi scowled. “Shut up.”

“Oh, hell no.” Powder bolted forward, practically vibrating with excitement. “Lemme see!”

Before Vi could yank her hand away, Powder grabbed it, gasping at the sight of your number.

“Ohhh, this is so real.” Powder looked up at Vander with a huge grin. “Big sis has a crush.”

Vi yanked her hand back like it burned. “I do not.”

Vander chuckled. “You gonna call her?”

Vi stiffened. “What? No.”

Powder gasped dramatically. “You’re gonna ghost her?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Then what are you gonna do?”

Vi groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Nothing. I’m gonna do nothing.”

Powder crossed her arms. “You can’t do nothing. She gave you her number. That’s, like, the universal ‘hey, I like you’ move!”

Vander hummed in agreement, setting down his rag. “Gotta say, kid, it’d be rude to leave her hanging.”

Vi’s face burned. “I don’t even know if she likes me like that!”

Powder snorted. “She wrote her number on your hand.”

“Yeah, maybe she just—” Vi cut herself off. Just what? Just wanted a playlist? Just wanted to mess with her? Just wanted an excuse to talk to her again?

Vander raised an eyebrow. “You look like you’re about to have a heart attack.”

“I’m not.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Vi groaned, shoving her hands deep into her hoodie pockets. “Can we please just close up the store and forget this ever happened?”

Vander chuckled. “Sure, sure. But if she shows up again, I’m making you ring her up.”

Vi froze.

“Wait, no—”

But Vander was already walking toward the back room, Powder following close behind with a devious smirk.

Vi slumped against the counter, exhaling sharply.

This was not how today was supposed to go.

Vi locked up the shop, shoving her hands deep into her hoodie pockets as she stepped onto the dimly lit street.

The air was cool, the usual hum of the city filling the silence. Normally, she liked the walk home. It was quiet, easy—time to clear her head.

Not tonight.

Tonight, her brain was screaming.

Because no matter how hard she tried to push it aside, her palm still tingled where you had grabbed it.

Where you had written your damn number.

Vi scowled, rubbing at her hand as she walked. The ink had smudged a little, but the numbers were still clear.

Send me the playlist, okay?

Your words echoed in her head, over and over, until she wanted to throw herself into traffic.

She could ignore it. She should ignore it.

But that wasn’t gonna stop you.

You’d just show up at the store again, all teasing and smug, cornering her into another conversation.

She hated how easily you did that. How easily you got under her skin.

Vi exhaled sharply, kicking at a loose rock on the sidewalk.

By the time she reached home, her nerves were shot. She slammed the door behind her, tossed her bag onto the floor, and collapsed onto her bed with a heavy sigh.

Her phone buzzed.

Her breath hitched.

She scrambled for it, unlocking the screen—

Not you.

Just some random notification.

Vi groaned, flopping onto her back.

This was ridiculous.

She needed to stop thinking about you.

She needed to end this now.

Without looking, she grabbed a wet wipe from her desk and started rubbing at her palm.

The ink smudged.

But as she watched the numbers fade, her chest got this weird, horrible feeling—like she was making a mistake.

She swallowed hard.

And before she could think about it too much, she grabbed a pen.

And rewrote your number.

Just in case.

Then, throwing the pen aside, she buried her face in her pillow and groaned.

She was so, so screwed.

Vi slumped at her desk, headphones on, phone in her hand, staring at the empty playlist with a scowl.

Making a playlist for someone should be easy. It wasn’t like she hadn’t done it before. But this wasn’t just some random playlist. You had asked for it. And somehow, that made it so much harder.

She huffed and started adding songs at random, going with her usual favorites.

"Smells Like Teen Spirit" – Nirvana.A classic. No way she could go wrong with that.

"The Pretender" – Foo Fighters.Yeah, solid choice. High energy. A little chaotic. Should be your vibe.

She tapped her fingers against the desk, thinking.

"Reptilia" – The Strokes.Good riff, good energy.

"Last Nite" – The Strokes.… Maybe a bit too mainstream? Whatever. Adding it anyway.

She continued scrolling, adding songs she thought you might like—or at least songs she hoped you’d think were cool.

"Do I Wanna Know?" – Arctic Monkeys.Wait. No. That sounded way too much like a confession. She deleted it immediately.

"Are You Gonna Be My Girl" – Jet.Deleted. Way too flirty.

She groaned, running a hand through her hair. Why is this so hard?

At this rate, she was going to end up overanalyzing every song. Should she just throw in some random stuff and hope for the best? Or should she actually put effort into it?

She clicked on a new song.

"Seven Nation Army" – The White Stripes.

Okay. This one could stay.

She sat back, staring at the playlist. It was good. Solid. A little messy, but it fit.

It should’ve been fine.

But somehow, it didn’t feel like enough.

She bit her lip, hesitating—then, without thinking too hard about it, she added one last song.

"Everlong" – Foo Fighters.

Her finger hovered over the screen.

That one was definitely a little too much.

Too personal.

Too… soft.

But instead of deleting it, Vi pressed save.

Now she just had to figure out how to actually send it to you without completely losing her mind.

Your number was still sitting there, clear as day, saved under a blank contact.

She shouldn’t text you.

She should just ignore it.

But if she ignored it, you’d definitely come back to the store, all smug and teasing, asking why she hadn’t sent the playlist yet. And then what? She couldn’t just say no. That would be weird. Suspicious.

Vi groaned, flopping back onto her bed.

This was so stupid.

It was just a playlist. It wasn’t like she was agreeing to a date or something. All she had to do was send a message, drop a few song links, and be done with it.

Simple.

Easy.

Except her hands wouldn’t move.

Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, typing out a quick, Here’s your playlist, before immediately deleting it.

Too blunt.

She tried again. Here you go. Let me know what you think.

Nope. Too casual. Too friendly. She didn’t talk like that.

Vi groaned, covering her face with one hand. She had never felt so stupid over a text in her life.

Her phone buzzed.

Her heart jumped.

But when she checked, it wasn’t you. Just some random notification.

Vi scowled, tossing her phone onto the bed.

She needed to get a grip.

It was just a text. Just a stupid, meaningless text.

So why the hell was it making her so nervous?

Her eyes drifted back to her phone.

Maybe… just one message.

Just to get it over with.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard again, hesitating—before she finally, finally typed:

Here’s your playlist.

She hesitated.

Then, before she could overthink it any further, she hit send.

And immediately regretted it.

Vi tossed her phone across the bed, rolling onto her stomach and groaning into her pillow.

Now she had to wait.

And that was so much worse.

You had been checking your phone way too much.

Not that you’d ever admit it.

But, well… it had been hours since you gave your number to the record store clerk, and there was still nothing. No text. No playlist. No reaction.

You weren’t worried, exactly. It’s not like he had to text you right away. But still—what was taking so long?

It wasn’t like you asked for something difficult. Just a playlist. A few songs. How hard could that be?

Your friends had been blowing up the group chat all night.

You rolled your eyes.

Okay, maybe that was a little funny. The thought of him—cool, quiet, aloof him—nervous over a simple text? No way.

You checked your phone again. Still nothing.

With an exaggerated sigh, you flopped onto your bed, tossing your phone onto your pillow. Maybe you really would have to “accidentally” stop by the record store again, just to remind him.

Before you could dwell on it too much, your phone buzzed.

Your heart jumped.

You snatched it up so fast you nearly dropped it.

One new message.

From an unknown number.

Your stomach did a little flip.

You clicked it open.

You blinked.

That was… it?

No explanation? No hey, sorry for the wait? No follow-up?

Just straight to business.

You stared at the message for a second before a grin crept onto your lips.

Classic mystery guy.

Shaking your head, you clicked on the link, opening the playlist.

The first few songs made sense. Smells Like Teen Spirit, The Pretender, Reptilia—all solid, all very him.

But as you scrolled further, something caught your eye.

"Everlong" – Foo Fighters.

You paused.

That one felt… different.

More personal.

Your lips curled into a smirk.

Oh, this was interesting.

Grinning, you clicked play.

Then, without missing a beat, you typed back:

You: Took you long enough ;)You: Good taste though. Didn’t take you for a Foo Fighters kind of guy.

And then, for good measure:

You: Guess I’ll have to come back and thank you in person.

You hit send, tossing your phone aside as Everlong started playing through your speakers.

Let’s see how he handled that.

Vi had finally started to relax.

She’d thrown herself onto her bed, tucked herself under the blankets, and convinced herself that it didn’t matter.

Your number was still there, sitting clear as day in her contacts. But if she ignored it, nothing bad would happen.

She could just go to sleep, wake up, go to work tomorrow, and pretend this never—

BZZT.

Vi flinched.

Her whole body tensed as she stared at her phone.

It was probably nothing. A spam message. An email.

Her phone buzzed again.

Nope. That was definitely a text.

Vi squeezed her eyes shut. Don’t check it. Don’t check it. Just sleep.

Her phone buzzed again.

“Oh, come on,” Vi groaned, rolling over and grabbing her phone.

Her screen lit up.

Vi’s stomach dropped.

Her face burned. Shit.

She knew she should’ve taken that song out.

Vi sat up so fast she nearly flung herself out of bed.

“Oh, come on,” she groaned, running a hand down her face.

She was so screwed.

Powder’s muffled voice called from the next room. “Vi? Why are you having a crisis?”

“I am not having a crisis!”

A beat of silence. Then—

“Oh my God, she texted you, didn’t she?!”

Vi threw a pillow at the wall. “Go to sleep, Powder!”

Her little sister just cackled.

Vi groaned, turning back to her phone.

Okay. Okay. She just had to answer normally. Like a normal person.

She started typing.

Vi: Didn’t realize I was on a deadline.

No, too dry.

She deleted it and tried again.

Vi: Didn’t know you were that impatient.

No, that sounded flirty.

God, what was wrong with her?

Powder’s voice rang out again. “Vi, if you don’t text her back, I will do it for you.”

Vi hissed. “Mind your own business!”

Powder snickered.

Vander’s voice came from down the hall, groggy with sleep. “Both of you, go to bed.”

Vi exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple.

After a full minute of struggling, she gave up and just typed:

Vi: Glad you liked it.

Simple. Safe. Nothing weird.

She hovered over the send button.

Her thumb twitched.

Then, against her better judgment, she added:

Vi: You don’t have to thank me.

There. That should be enough.

Before she could overthink it, she hit send and immediately dropped her phone onto the bed like it was a bomb.

Powder’s voice rang out one last time, muffled but way too smug:

“You’re so whipped.”

Vi buried her face in her pillow and groaned.

She was so, so screwed.

DAY 5 

The next day Vi found herself immersed in a carnival-style event at the local park. Vander’s friend was holding the event for charity, and he had asked the crew to pitch in. Powder had dragged Vi along, claiming it was going to be "fun" and that she could get free food, which Vi was more than happy to oblige. She had no school today, so why not help out?

Vi was stationed at one of the shooting booths, managing the game for the event. She wasn’t a fan of the loud noises or the chaos of crowds, but it kept her distracted. It kept her from thinking too much about you.

You were still in her head after last night. The playlist. The text. That small, nervous excitement that she couldn't shake. It was driving her crazy. So, she focused on her work and the customers in front of her, pushing all thoughts of you aside.

Just then, her eyes caught a familiar figure entering the park.

It was you.

Her heart skipped a beat. You weren’t just casually strolling through, though. You were heading right toward her booth.

Her stomach did a flip, and she felt her face flush. No. No, no, no. Why now? Why here?

Vi didn’t know how to act. There you were, looking like you belonged at this carnival more than anyone else, as if you hadn’t completely wrecked her calm and composed façade just the night before. Vi’s grip tightened around the clipboard in her hands, her eyes instinctively darting around for a way to hide—anything to avoid a repeat of their last awkward encounter.

Her eyes landed on the table next to her. A pile of carnival masks, left over from a previous booth, stared back at her. One mask in particular—a plain party mask—caught her attention. It wasn’t too flashy or dramatic. It was simple, easy to put on, and most importantly, it would cover her face. Perfect.

Without thinking too much about it, she quickly grabbed the mask and slipped it over her face, adjusting it to cover her expression just enough so that she could breathe, but still stay somewhat hidden.

Meanwhile, you were happily strolling through the carnival with your friends, casually making your way to the shooting booth. You weren’t expecting to win, but you were definitely up for the challenge.

“Bet I can beat you,” one of your friends teased, nudging you forward. “Come on, let’s see what you got.”

You sighed, a bit cocky. “I’ve got this in the bag. Watch and learn.”

Your friends laughed as you took your turn, aiming at the targets. But for some reason, the gun felt heavier than you remembered, and your aim was off. Your frustration grew with every miss.

“Ugh! Seriously?” you groaned as you fumbled with the gun, only managing to hit one target out of five.

Vi, watching from behind the booth, saw you struggling. She shifted uncomfortably in her position, feeling that familiar tug in her chest. She wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t like seeing you upset, even if you weren’t aware of it.

After a moment, Vi stepped forward, pulling her mask down slightly—just enough so it stayed secure but still let her speak. “You look like you need a hand,” she said, her voice a little hesitant. Her stomach flipped at the thought of being noticed. She wasn’t supposed to be the one in the spotlight, not here, not now.

You blinked, caught off guard by her presence. “What? No, I’m fine, really. Just having an off day.”

She raised an eyebrow, though her mouth quirked into an amused smile under her mask. “Doesn’t look like it.” She gestured at the gun. “You want me to take a shot?”

You hesitated. Something about her seemed oddly familiar, but you couldn’t place it. It wasn’t like you’d seen her before, but the way she carried herself... it reminded you of something.

Before you could say anything, she snatched up the gun with an easy, practiced motion. She set her stance and began taking her shots with precision, hitting every target effortlessly.

You gawked at her in silence. Damn, she’s good.

With one final shot, she hit the last target, and the bell rang, signaling a win. The lights flashed above the booth, and she handed you the prize—a giant stuffed bear.

You blinked, completely dumbfounded. “Wait, you really didn’t have to do that. I was just… trying to have fun. I didn’t expect to actually win.”

Vi shrugged, looking just a little too calm for someone who had just stepped in to save the day. "No big deal. You looked like you needed a little help."

But her mind was spinning. Why did I do that? Why did I step in?

Her eyes flicked nervously toward you, but behind her mask, her face flushed red. What the hell, Vi? She cursed to herself. Why are you acting like this?

You blinked again, studying her a little more closely. That odd sense of familiarity crept back, and you couldn’t shake it. There was something about her—the way she moved, how she made everything look so easy. But the mask was throwing you off. Maybe it’s just me overthinking. You tried to push the thought aside.

“Thanks,” you said, awkwardly accepting the prize. “I owe you one.”

Vi, still in a daze, managed a short nod, her heart racing. “No need. Just… enjoy the game.”

You gave her a small smile, but the moment was over. You turned back to your friends, who were eagerly moving toward the next booth.

As you walked away, you glanced over your shoulder, just to see her standing there, adjusting the mask, her posture stiff and unsure, like she was trying to disappear into the background.

Vi’s stomach was doing flip-flops, and her thoughts were running wild. I’m an idiot. Why the hell did I step in like that? Why’d I even try to help her? She doesn’t need me to do that, and now I look like a fool.

She couldn’t stop replaying the scene in her head, the way you’d looked at her for just a second too long, like you recognized her. Oh my god, what if she knows? What if she realizes who I am?

She adjusted her mask a little, trying to calm her nerves. You’re fine, Vi. It’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong.

But deep down, she wasn’t so sure.

She tried to distract herself by focusing on the next group of carnival-goers who approached her booth. But all she could think about was you—and that mask that probably wasn’t even enough to keep you from figuring out who she was.

Vi barely made it through the rest of her shift.

After you left the booth, she couldn’t stop replaying the moment in her head. The way you had looked at her. That pause when you had stared at her just a second too long. That stupid feeling in her gut that told her she was being so obvious.

She didn’t recognize me, right?

Vi groaned, running a hand down her face. She could still feel the warmth on her cheeks, and the way her fingers had trembled when she handed you the stuffed bear.

"Vi, are you good?"

She stiffened. Powder was suddenly right there, standing next to her booth with a half-eaten funnel cake in her hands, eyebrows raised in amusement.

Vi sighed, adjusting the mask on her face. “I’m fine, Powder.”

"You sure?" Powder smirked, taking a slow bite of her snack. "‘Cause you look like you’re about to pass out."

Vi shot her a glare. “Go bother someone else.”

“Ohhh, touchy,” Powder teased, rocking on her heels. "You look extra weird today. What’s with the mask, anyway?" She poked Vi’s arm. "What, you trying to be mysterious or something?"

Vi stiffened, nearly choking on her own breath. “No,” she said way too fast.

Powder’s smirk widened. “OHHHH MY GOD.” She pointed at Vi like she just cracked some world-ending secret. “You’re hiding from someone!”

Vi paled. “Shut up.”

"You are!” Powder cackled, her blue eyes gleaming. “Wait, wait—who is it? Someone from school? Omg, do you owe someone money? Did you piss off the wrong person?"

Vi groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Powder, I swear—"

Then, as if the universe was hell-bent on making her suffer, your voice cut through the carnival noise.

“Guys! I'm gonna try that game again—”

Vi froze.

She barely had time to react before you and your friends walked back toward the booth.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.

She spun around so fast Powder blinked in confusion. “What are you—”

“COVER ME,” Vi hissed, practically throwing herself behind Powder.

Powder snorted. "Vi, you’re like 6 inches taller than me—”

“Shut up,” Vi whisper-yelled.

Powder turned, watching as you approached the booth again, seemingly interested in another round. Her eyes flicked back to Vi, who was literally crouching behind the prize shelf like some kind of escaped fugitive.

Her grin grew wicked. "Wait a second.”

Vi paled. "Powder. No."

Powder gasped, clapping her hands together. “IT’S HER.”

“SHHHH,” Vi hissed, shoving Powder away before she could draw more attention. “Be cool, be normal.”

Powder was not normal. In fact, she was giggling like a madman.

Vi had never known fear like this.

She stayed frozen in place, barely daring to peek out from behind the booth. You cannot recognize me, you cannot recognize me, you cannot recognize me—

Meanwhile, you handed some tickets to the person running the booth (thankfully not Vi) and picked up the toy gun again.

You squinted at the targets, biting your lip in focus. “Alright, I gotta redeem myself. No way I’m losing again.”

Your friends cheered you on as you took your shots—though you weren’t that much better than before.

From behind the booth, Vi watched, her fingers gripping the edge of the wooden counter.

She hated how cute you looked when you were focused.

FUCK.

She turned away, squeezing her eyes shut. Get a grip, Vi. Pull yourself together. You’re wearing a mask. She has no idea it’s you. Just stay put and—

"Hey, where’d the guy from earlier go?"

Vi's blood ran cold.

You were looking around, puzzled, obviously wondering where the masked mystery guy had disappeared to.

Powder, the absolute menace, grinned so wide it could split her face in half.

“Oh, him?” she said sweetly, her voice dripping with mischief.

Vi panicked.

She kicked Powder’s ankle under the booth.

Powder yelped. “Ow! Rude!”

You blinked at her. "Huh?"

Powder scowled at Vi (who was mouthing I will end you from behind the counter), then turned back to you with an innocent shrug.

"Dunno where he went," Powder said casually, rubbing her shin. "Probably went on break or something."

You frowned, disappointed. “Damn. Alright.”

Vi exhaled so hard she felt her soul leave her body.

You sighed, shaking your head before turning to leave. "Oh well. Let’s try the ring toss next."

Your friends nodded, and just like that, you walked away.

Vi didn’t move until you were completely out of sight.

Then, she collapsed against the booth, staring at the sky like she had just survived a near-death experience.

Powder immediately burst out laughing.

"Oh my God," she wheezed, wiping tears from her eyes. "That was painful to watch. I should’ve recorded that."

Vi groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Kill me."

"Seriously, though—"why" are you hiding?" Powder grinned, nudging her sister. “Wait, wait, don’t tell me—you have a crush on her.”

Vi flinched so hard it was like she got shot.

Powder gasped dramatically. "HOLY SHIT. YOU TOTALLY DO.”

Vi grabbed a random stuffed animal and smacked Powder with it. "SHUT UP."

Powder just cackled harder.

Vi groaned, dragging a hand down her face. This was a disaster.

Because, deep down, she knew Powder was right.

She had it bad.

And worse? You still had no idea.

DAY 6

Vi woke up feeling like she had been hit by a truck.

Not physically—though Powder had tackled her in a fit of laughter at least once after the carnival—but emotionally. Mentally. Spiritually.

Because, well… she had hid from you.

Like a total idiot.

Groaning, she shoved her pillow over her face and refused to move.

Maybe if she stayed in bed long enough, the earth would just open up and swallow her whole.

You didn’t recognize me… right?

The thought had been plaguing her all night. You had looked at her funny. There was something in the way your gaze lingered, like a puzzle piece that almost fit but not quite.

Vi groaned again, rolling onto her side.

She should’ve just acted normal. Just played it cool. But nooo, she had to throw a mask on her face and then go and win a stupid bear for you.

She punched her pillow. WHY did I do that?!

And worse—why did she kind of like the way you had smiled at her for it?

No. No, she was not thinking about that.

She needed to get a grip.

With a long, suffering sigh, Vi finally sat up, rubbing her face. It was her day off, and she was determined to not make it about overthinking every embarrassing thing she had done in the last 24 hours.

…Or at least she was going to be determined. After coffee.

She dragged herself to the kitchen, where Powder was already sitting at the table, swinging her legs and scrolling on her phone.

As soon as Vi entered, Powder grinned.

“Morning, mystery guy.”

Vi immediately turned around. “Nope.”

Powder cackled. “You are so embarrassing.”

Vi groaned, grabbing a mug and pouring herself coffee. “Please, for the love of God, shut up.”

Powder ignored her completely. “No, but seriously, Vi, that was painful to watch. I mean, you were full-on hiding behind a prize shelf like a little kid. That was some next-level awkward.”

Vi scowled. “I panicked.”

"Clearly." Powder smirked. "You should’ve just talked to her."

Vi scoffed. "Oh, yeah, because that would’ve gone so well. ‘Hey, remember me? I’m actually the guy you were lowkey flirting with at the record store, except I’m not a guy, and I was wearing a stupid mask all night because I’m an idiot—’”

Powder wheezed. "Yeah, that would've been hilarious."

Vi sighed, sipping her coffee. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Powder rested her chin in her hand. "Sooo… are you ever gonna tell her?”

Vi nearly choked on her coffee. “Tell her?”

“Yeah, y’know,” Powder said, tilting her head. “That you’re you.”

Vi ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply. “She doesn’t need to know.”

Powder blinked. “She thinks you’re a dude.”

"She assumes I’m a dude,” Vi corrected. “I never said I was."

Powder gave her a look. "Vi, you literally avoided correcting her every time she called you ‘him.’"

Vi groaned. "It’s not that deep, Powder."

"It is that deep!" Powder threw her hands up. "You like her! And now you’re stuck in this dumbass mess because you couldn’t just say, ‘Oh, by the way, I’m a girl.’”

Vi pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, one—I don’t like her. And two—”

"BULLSHIT." Powder pointed dramatically. “You are so down bad.”

Vi turned red. “I am not.”

Powder leaned in with a wicked grin. “Then why’d you win her a stuffed animal, Vi?”

Vi froze.

Powder gasped, smacking the table. “OH MY GOD.”

Vi wanted to die.

“You so like her,” Powder cackled. “Ohhh, I’m telling Vander—”

Vi slammed her hand over Powder’s mouth. “Don’t you dare.”

Powder muffled a laugh against Vi’s palm before pulling back, grinning so smugly.

Vi groaned, rubbing her temple. “This is a disaster.”

"No, this is hilarious," Powder corrected.

Vi ignored her, downing the rest of her coffee like it was alcohol.

After a long silence, Powder spoke again, her tone suddenly too casual.

“Sooo… what if she comes back to the record store today?”

Vi froze.

She hadn’t even thought about that.

You had said you’d come back.

Vi’s heart did an annoying little flip.

Powder’s smirk widened. “Ohhh, you’re so screwed.”

Vi put her head down on the table with a thud. 

DAY 7

Vi sighs, rubbing the back of her neck as she leans against the counter. It’s been a busy Saturday, and she’s been thinking about you more than she’d like to admit. Every time she catches a break, her mind drifts back to the way you’d smile at her, the way your eyes would light up whenever you walked into the shop. She tells herself it’s nothing, just a passing distraction. She’s supposed to be focused on work, not daydreaming.

She glances up at the clock.

4:00 PM.

Still no sign of you.

Vi frowns. It shouldn’t matter. It’s not like you’ve been coming every day. Maybe you’re busy. Maybe you’ve lost interest. She shouldn’t be disappointed. She doesn’t even know why she cares.

She pulls off her cap and mask, letting the cool air hit her face. It’s probably better this way. She can stop overthinking, stop wondering if you’d show up.

Meanwhile, you’re sprinting down the sidewalk, your heart pounding with a mix of frustration and nerves. You’re late. Traffic’s been hell, and now your stomach is in knots. You promised yourself you wouldn’t think about it too much, but how can you not?

You reach the record store, hand hovering over the door handle, and then—

You freeze.

There she is.

Vi.

The mask and cap are gone. The moment your eyes land on her, it’s like everything else fades away. The voice. The posture. The way she stands, leaning against the counter, the easy confidence in her movements.

Oh my god.

It was her all along.

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, and your stomach lurches. You’ve been crushing on Vi—the girl behind the counter—this whole time. The girl who was always right in front of you.

Your pulse quickens, blood rushing to your head as a mix of panic and disbelief crashes over you. You can barely process the flood of thoughts, and then it hits you even harder: she knew. She knew you thought she was a guy, and she never said a word. Never corrected you. Never let on.

What the hell? Why didn’t she say something?

Your fists clench at your sides as a wave of humiliation floods your chest. Did she think it was funny? Was she watching you, letting you stumble around, thinking you were flirting with some mysterious guy while secretly knowing you were completely wrong?

A sharp heat rises in your face as embarrassment claws at you, twisting into something more uncomfortable. You want to leave. You want to forget about all of this, but something’s gnawing at you. Something deeper that you don’t want to confront.

If Vi never corrected you, then why the hell were you attracted to her in the first place?

You stop yourself, heart pounding in your throat as your stomach churns. This isn’t just about her being a girl. You didn’t care about that before. Or at least, you didn’t think you did. But now? It’s impossible to ignore.

You take a shaky step back, your chest tightening with all these conflicting emotions you can’t name. Confusion. Embarrassment. Frustration.

And yet, there’s something else, something undeniable, twisting at the pit of your stomach.

You can’t go in. Not now. Not when she might see the look on your face. Not when you don’t even know what’s going on in your own head.

Without thinking, you turn and rush toward the curb, hailing the first cab that passes by. The ride back feels like an eternity. You sit there, arms crossed tightly over your chest, staring out the window as the world blurs by. Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, looping in on itself, never quite settling on anything.

By the time you step through the door at home, you can’t shake the feeling that something’s changed. You’re unsettled. Conflicted. And you still don’t have the answers.

“Home so soon?” your mom’s voice calls from the kitchen, but you don’t even acknowledge her.

“Yeah, changed my mind,” you mutter, your voice lacking conviction as you head upstairs.

You slam the bedroom door shut behind you and collapse face-first into your bed, groaning into the pillow.

This is so stupid. Why do you care this much? Why does it feel like your entire world just shifted, and you can’t even keep up?

But the worst part? You still like Vi. You like her. And you have no idea what to do with that.

Everything feels like one big mess, and you’re stuck at the center of it.

 DAY 1 

Vi walks into the classroom, headphones stuffed into her bag seconds before entering. She lets her eyes wander around the classroom, and her gaze lands on you. You had been talking to your friends for the past few minutes, rambling on about boys or whatever the hell you guys could ramble about.

Vi places her bag next to her seat, and sits down. She took out her textbook, silently waiting for you to greet her.

…

Five minutes had passed, and it seemed as if she hadn’t even existed to you. Your friends started asking about ‘’the mysterious clerk’’ you had liked. Your expression faltered— for just a split second. But no one else noticed. You told your friends nothing new had happened, and brushed the topic aside.

Vi’s eyes dimmed. I mean, you hadn’t said anything bad. It was—  whatever.

DAY 2

Okay, she had definitely done something wrong. You talked about her yesterday, only answering a question, your friend asking for new updates on ‘’the mysterious clerk’’. You didn’t visit the shop either, Vi finding herself disappointed at the fact you hadn’t shown up. It was—  whatever.

DAY 3

‘’Hello? Vi? You there?’’ Vander says as he shakes his hand in front of Vi, trying to catch the clerks attention. Vi snaps out of whatever daze she had caught herself in.

‘’Ah— Vander? Yes sorry, I zoned out there.’’ Vander lets out a light laugh, and tells Vi it’s not a big deal. Vi curses to herself, as Powder exits the bathroom. 

‘’Saw what just happened. You good sis? You never zone out like that.’’ Powder was worried. Vi had been zoning out a lot these past few days; her sister never does that.

‘’Yeah no I’m… I’m fine. Just tired Powpow, schools been a lot.’’ Powder frowns. She was sure there was more Vi wasn’t telling her, but she knew Vi wasn’t in the mood.

‘’Okay, don’t forget to take care of yourself.’’ Vi sighs in relief as Powder starts to mind her own business. Vi doesn’t know why she keeps thinking about you— she barely even knows the girl. So what if she knew her favorite songs? So what if she knew you liked eating strawberry ice cream more than chocolate? It wasn’t that big of a deal— it was just little things. She didn’t even care that much.

DAY 4

Vi watched as you laughed with your friends, all of them sat near you. Back then— you’d try to include her in all the conversations, talking about ‘’the mysterious clerk’’. But now? You had barely spoken a word about her—  or rather, him. It was starting to concern Vi. She doesn’t recall doing anything offensive. Vi sighs. She had come to terms with her caring— even if she didn’t know why. It was quite the headache, but maybe, a part of her— had been missing you all this time.

But still, the girl had no idea why. So Vi had held it in, hoping today would be the day you finally decided to ‘’grace’’ her with your presence.

DAY 5

Vi was losing her mind.

She had no idea what was going on.

One day, you were all smiles, flirting, laughing, hanging around the store like you belonged there. Then suddenly—nothing.

You didn’t show up. You didn’t look at her in class. You didn’t even acknowledge her existence.

It wasn’t just weird—it was wrong.

Vi sat on the couch, tossing a stress ball up and catching it repeatedly, her leg bouncing. She hated feeling like this—like something was out of her control. She just needed to know what the hell happened.

She threw the ball harder. It smacked against the wall and hit her in the face.

“Dude,” Powder said from across the room, watching the whole thing. “What’s up with you?”

Vi scowled, rubbing her forehead. “Nothin’.”

Powder raised a brow. “Mhm. Right. That’s why you just took yourself out with a stress ball?”

Vi grumbled something under her breath, slumping back.

Powder hopped onto the couch beside her, nudging her shoulder. “Come on. You’re acting weird. Did something happen at school?”

Vi hesitated.

Did something happen?

She wracked her brain for answers.

You had been fine the last time she saw you at the record store. You even—she swallowed—flirted with her. You had laughed, teased her, looked at her in that way that made her ears burn.

And then?

Radio silence.

Powder poked her. “You’re thinking way too hard about this.”

Vi groaned, covering her face. “She’s ignoring me.”

Powder blinked. “Huh?”

“She—” Vi huffed, dropping her hands. “She was talking to me just fine before. And now? She won’t even look at me.”

Powder frowned, tilting her head. “Did you say something to piss her off?”

“No!” Vi paused. “…I don’t think so?”

Powder deadpanned. “Vi.”

“I didn’t!” Vi groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “I have no clue what I did.”

“Okay, okay, jeez,” Powder said, raising her hands. “So, what, she just randomly started ignoring you?”

Vi clenched her jaw, leaning forward. “It’s not just that.”

The way she looked at her was different now—like Vi was something she didn’t want to be near.

Like she was some kind of problem.

And Vi hated it.

She didn’t even know why she cared so much.

It wasn’t like they were close. It wasn’t like she was owed anything.

Hell, she barely even knew this girl.

But still.

Something about being shut out so suddenly burned.

Powder nudged her. “If you really didn’t do anything, maybe she’s just dealing with her own stuff.”

Vi exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Give it time,” Powder said, patting Vi’s arm. “If she wants to talk, she’ll come to you. If not, then, y’know… whatever.”

Vi grunted, crossing her arms.

She hated waiting. Hated not knowing.

But what else could she do?

So, for now, she’d do what she could.

Wait.

DAY 6

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, staring blankly at the ceiling. The past few days had been… weird. Confusing. Your mind had been running in circles ever since you found out about Vi—the Vi who worked at the record store, the one who had been effortlessly cool, a little smug, and—God—the one you had definitely developed a crush on.

Except, she wasn’t a he.

And somehow, that had sent you spiraling into an existential crisis.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. This was ridiculous. It wasn’t like your feelings had changed overnight. Vi was still Vi. The same Vi who made you laugh with her dumb little comebacks and messed with you in that annoyingly attractive way. The same Vi who made your heart do flips every time she said your name.

So why the hell did everything feel so different now?

Then it hit you.

It wasn’t that you liked Vi because you thought she was a guy. It was because you liked her. You liked her—just as she was. The way she could be effortlessly confident one moment and somehow make you feel like the only person in the room the next. The way she could listen even when she acted like she didn’t care.

You liked Vi.

The realization settled deep in your chest. It wasn’t a bad feeling, just… unfamiliar. You’d never let yourself think about girls like that before. Not seriously, at least. But now that you were, it felt kind of terrifying and freeing at the same time. The fear wasn’t in liking her—it was in not knowing what that meant. Not knowing how to deal with it.

You flopped onto your bed with a groan, burying your face in your pillow. Maybe this was just a phase. Maybe you were overthinking it, letting your mind go to weird places.

But deep down, you already knew the truth.

It wasn’t just some fleeting thing. You liked Vi. You liked how she said your name in that low voice, like she had all the time in the world for you. You liked how she made you feel, how her presence felt like both a challenge and a comfort at the same time.

And maybe that was okay.

Maybe it was okay that you didn’t have all the answers. Maybe it was okay to not have everything figured out yet.

For now, you just let yourself feel. You didn’t need to understand it all, not right this second. All you needed to know was that, for the first time in a long while, you were starting to let yourself want something. Someone. And that was enough for now.

DAY 7

You didn’t expect to feel so nervous. You’d spent the last few days trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t a big deal. That it was just a conversation. That Vi would probably be completely chill about it.

But standing outside the record store now, you felt your heart pounding in your chest. You hadn’t planned on coming here today, but somehow, your feet had led you to the front door.

Vi jolts out of her thoughts when the sound of the door chime cuts through the quiet of the store. She quickly stands upright, her gaze landing on the door as it swings open. She expects the usual group of customers, maybe a few regulars, but then her heart stops when she sees you standing in the doorway. Your eyes meet hers, and for a split second, the world feels like it slows down.

You’re here.

You, who she hadn’t seen in days. You, who had left her hanging without so much as a word. She doesn’t know if she’s relieved or frustrated, but she definitely doesn’t know what to feel when she sees the look on your face—your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, your posture tense.

“Y-You’re back,” Vi stammers, her voice catching as she takes a step toward you. Her breath feels stuck in her chest as she watches you take a hesitant step forward.

There’s a tense silence that fills the space between you both. Vi fidgets with the sleeve of her jacket, unsure of what to do with her hands. Her nerves are firing, her thoughts scattered all over the place. She hasn't felt this way in a long time—so unsure, so vulnerable.

“Yeah…” you say, your voice quieter than usual. You run a hand through your hair, looking away for a brief moment before your eyes dart back to hers.

Vi stands there, waiting for you to say something more, but instead, the words feel like they’re stuck in your throat. You’d had the whole ride back to think about what to say, but now that you’re standing in front of her, it’s as if your mind has gone blank. All the questions you’ve been harboring about what happened between the two of you, about why you hadn’t seen her, they’re all jumbled up inside you. You want answers, but at the same time, you’re not even sure if you’re ready for them.

Finally, the silence stretches too long for either of you to ignore.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you blurt out, the words rushing out of you before you can stop them. Your voice is small, but the frustration behind it is clear. “Why didn’t you say anything? You knew I thought you were a guy... and you let me believe that. Why?”

Vi’s eyes widen at the sudden outburst. She hadn’t expected you to confront her like this—not now, not after everything that had happened. Her mouth opens, but the words don’t come out at first. The shock is evident on her face, her mind racing to piece together what you’re really asking.

“I…” Vi stumbles over her words, feeling heat rush to her face. “I wasn’t trying to— I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, okay? I didn’t know what to do… I didn’t know how to tell you without it being… awkward.” Her voice falters, her nerves taking over as she nervously scratches the back of her neck. “I mean, you came to the store, and you were all friendly, and I didn’t want to mess that up. I thought if I told you, you’d stop coming, and I didn’t want that.”

Your chest tightens as her words hit you. You had always suspected there was something more to her silence, but hearing it from her mouth makes it all feel real. Vi was caught between wanting to be honest and wanting to keep things easy, and in doing so, she pushed you away without even realizing it.

"Why didn’t you just tell me the truth, Vi?" you ask, your voice softer now, but still laced with confusion. "Why make me figure it out on my own?"

Vi bites her lip, looking down at the counter, clearly struggling with her emotions. “I didn’t want you to think I was… I don’t know… trying to trick you or something.” She takes a deep breath, meeting your eyes with a mix of vulnerability and frustration. “I liked you, okay? And I didn’t want to scare you off with the whole… ‘girl’ thing. But I get it. I messed up.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you process her words. You didn’t know what to think, or what you even wanted to hear. Part of you still feels betrayed, but another part of you can’t deny the flutter of something else at the thought of her liking you back.

"Why didn’t you just say it from the start?" You step closer, your frustration building again. "I didn’t care that you were a girl. Why would you think that would matter? It’s not about that."

Vi looks like she’s been struck, her face flushing even more at the implication. She swallows, the weight of your words settling in her chest. She wants to say something—anything to explain herself—but the words are trapped in her throat.

"I’m sorry," she whispers finally, her voice strained. "I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I just… I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t."

The air is thick with the tension of your unsaid thoughts. It’s clear you’re both stuck in this moment, unsure of where to go next. The truth is hanging between you, but it’s messy and complicated. There are no easy answers. No quick fixes.

You take another step toward her, and for the first time in what feels like ages, you see something in Vi’s eyes—a kind of hope, mixed with fear, but also something softer.

"Maybe… we could just start over?" You suggest hesitantly, the words leaving your lips before you can second-guess them. "Like, just talk? Without all the confusion?"

Vi’s eyes widen in disbelief for a moment before her lips pull into a small, nervous smile. "I’d like that," she says quietly.

And just like that, it feels like the weight of the past few days lifts, even if just a little. You both know there’s still a lot left to figure out, but for now, the awkward tension has broken, and maybe that’s enough for now.

Vi steps closer, her usual confident demeanor back in place, though her eyes still hold that vulnerability. “You sure? I mean, I might be a little awkward,” she says with a sheepish grin.

You snort, feeling lighter than you have in days. “I think I can handle awkward.”

Vi laughs, the sound soft and genuine, as the air around you both shifts into something more comfortable. Maybe you don’t have all the answers yet, but at least you’ve started figuring it out—together.

a/n - got lazy on the ending guys sori ;-;

[tsukimefuku]

3rd of july ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚ nanami kento

piece written in collaboration with my beloved friend and one of my favorite people, @rahuratna, for nanami's (a.k.a. internet's collective husbando) birthday. 💜🧡 content warning: fluff/comedy/sugestiveness word count: 1k

Nanami wasn't one to make big celebrations on his birthday. Up until he met you, he'd usually go about his work day quietly, saving up a few extra hours to simply go bowling or visit his favorite restaurants for dinner.

After you both started dating, not much had changed. You'd simply tag along for whatever he had planned, and would usually surprise him with something by the time you both got home - a box of dark chocolate, a new set of lingerie, a nice warm scented bath, a new CD album he had been looking for.

This time, however, you decided to push your luck on teasing the poor man.

On his birthday, of all days.

"Kento, how do you feel about surprise parties?" you ask, hiding the smile pulled on your cheeks behind your tea cup.

On the couch by your side, you could feel Nanami holding the urge to flinch the moment you were finished speaking.

"They are not my favorite," he answers in earnest.

"Seriously?" you inquire with a faux disheartened look.

"Yes," Nanami replies, with a tinge of concern to his voice.

"That is... unfortunate, then," you ensue, putting your tea on the coffee table and pulling your robe tighter around your body.

His Adam's apple bobs as he silently gulps.

"Why?"

"Well, my plan was to surprise you when you got home, but I figured you wouldn't want to get instantly jumped. So I told them to wait in the room," you finally say, with a grave finality, pointing to the closed bedroom door.

Truth is, he has no clue what you are really up to.

"Darling…" Nanami sighs, ever so patiently, "I thought it would just be the both of us unwinding, like the past years."

"I… I'm sorry, I really wanted to surprise you with something different this time."

You do sound regretful, and he plants a soft kiss on your cheek in response. Even now, he doesn't quite find it in himself to be annoyed at you, even if the prospect of Gojo lurking around his bedroom is enough to send disgusted shivers down his spine.

"It's… fine. Let's get this over with at once, and then have the house to ourselves."

"Are you sure? I could always go in there and tell them to-"

"No," he counters firmly. "You've arranged something a little different this year, and I'm going to appreciate it."

"Come on, then."

As perceptive as he is, Nanami doesn't notice the mischievous smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. Naturally, since you have successfully planted a seed in his mind, a terrifying image of his pristine suits being tried on by students and his custom made bowling ball being transformed into a disco light by the white-haired menace he calls a colleague.

When you reach the door and step aside for him, he visibly braces himself, fingers almost straightening a phantom tie at his throat.

"Sweetheart, I need to go and fetch a scarf. It's a little chilly in here."

Bless his heart. He's actually playing along.

You raise your voice.

"Oh, I left the blue one on the top shelf. Your closet."

"Right."

Nanami heads in with the air of a man charging from the trenches to face a volley of cannon fire. He stops dead in his tracks, eyes taking in the room.

It is empty of people, for starters.

The comforter on the bed has been pulled back, the white sheets scattered with rose petals. Candles have been placed strategically on the bedside table and vanity, emitting the subtle scent of the ocean. On a corner of the bed, a few ribbon-wrapped gifts await; a small stack of books and a box of his favourite dark chocolate with orange.

You saunter in behind him and he turns to you with a look that is both a solemn reprimand and a loving promise of a punishment you may appreciate later.

"Hmm. It's awfully crowded in here, my dear."

"Well, the rose petals were quite chatty, Kento. They've taken up all the space on our bed."

"They have indeed, you little-"

You laugh as you slip out of his reach, standing coyly in the doorway.

"Have a look at your gifts first."

He narrows his eyes, but approaches the bed, fingers unraveling the ribbon that holds the books together.

"What do we have here? 'The Master and Margarita.' Ah, wonderful. 'Bowling your way home: A salaryman's escape from bondage.'"

He pauses and raises an eyebrow and you gesture airily for him to keep going.

"Fine. What's this one? The-"

His voice cuts off abruptly.

"Kento? Are you all right?"

Very slowly, he turns to you.

"You got me the Kama Sutra?"

"I figured it would make a nice addition to your collection. I may even borrow it, from time to time."

You approach him now, casually opening the book to where you've placed a strategic leather marker within the section on sex positions.

"Since it's your birthday, maybe you'd like to start with the Virsha here?"

He considers the page seriously, before taking the book from you and flipping through it.

"I'm not sure, darling. You've put in enough effort setting all of this up."

Handing it back to you, he watches the flush that spreads upwards, across your neck as you are presented with the Indrani pose he has chosen instead.

"How about you let me do the work from here on out?"

"Well... "

"No, I insist."

His voice has that special intonation now, the husky rumble of desire, the inflection of hushed intimacy, the promise of that playful nature that only reveals itself when you're entangled in the sheets together.

You lay the book down, open to the very instructive illustration.

"In that case, let me present you with my last gift."

"There's another?"

Wordlessly, the robe you've been so studiously arranging around yourself slides to the floor. His kindling gaze takes in the sheer, violet lace, the tiny flowers embroidered strategically over the parts of you that he will discover at leisure.

***

Later, when the gossamer material lies discarded on the floor, when his exhausted limbs entwine with your own, when his golden hair runs like silk between your fingers, you speak into the hush of the bedroom.

"Happy birthday, my love."

His voice is muffled from where his face is pressed against your stomach.

"That was quite the surprise party."

"Maybe we should have one every year."

He snorts indignantly, but his lips curve in a smile against your skin all the same.

[krys4h]

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 ☆

summary◞﹒୧ Choso has a crush on his favorite customer at his vinyl shop, and he wants you bad.

contents◞﹒୧  7.4k words, fluff, nsfw, smut, au modern setting, vinyl shop au, vinylshopowner!choso, chubby!reader, thick!reader, singlemother!reader, fem!reader, shy!choso, praise, pet name (baby), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, doggy style, smut with plot, not proof read, minors dni.

────୨ৎ────

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨�� 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

Choso wasn't a womanizer, and certainly not a seducer. He was a stoic man, always wearing an aloof expression, as if he didn't want to be here. When he found a girl pretty, he simply looked away, no emotion crossed his face and he continued his day as if nothing had happened. He wasn't a virgin, just not the most comfortable at flirting.

In high school, Yuuji had more success than him. This cheerful guy attracted all the girls, his smile was a powerful tool. Choso, he was way too shy to even approach a girl, and way too aloof to let himself be approached. 

So when you came into his vinyl shop, nothing could prepare him for the reaction, the wave of emotions that you were going to bring out in him. 

With your daughter in hand, you walked into the shop, looking at your surroundings. The vinyl shop was a little place decorated with multiple plants, and hundreds of music posters were plastered on the walls. From Destiny's Childs to Linkin Park, rock, jazz, rap, all genres of music were on the walls.

Right next to the cash register were vinyl turntables, where “Kiss of life” by Sade was playing. There were vintage CDs bins under the vinyl bins. There was a special charm to the place, and a sweet smell of jasmine enveloped the room.

Choso was writing something behind the cash register when he raised his head to look at his new customer, all the air in his lungs disappeared. It was like those moments that shape everyone's life.

Saying you were beautiful was an euphemism. You were drop dead gorgeous, shaped by God himself, an angel sent to earth to drive people crazy. It was a sunny day, the sun's rays penetrated the shop to illuminate your figure, and made your skin glow.

Wearing a black maxi skirt that reached down to your feet, it hugged every curve of your lower body to perfection. Your jewelry made noise with each of your steps, and Choso didn't know where to look, your belly chain called him just like the multiple long necklaces that came down in your cleavage. Your chest was enhanced by a close-fitting top, black like your skirt, the perfect ensemble for the shape of your body. Your stomach was bare and you proudly displayed the stretch marks of your pregnancy under your belly chains.

When you turned around to rummage through the vinyl bins, Choso had to make a superhuman effort not to stare at your ass, the tight fabric of your skirt perfectly fitting your curves. Instead, his gaze was lost in your back, your top was backless, and it was the sexiest sight he has seen. Seriously, who was that girl? He never saw someone so gorgeous. Your skin was glowing in the sun, and your jewelry accentuated the shining aura you had.

The image of your body and face was forever imprinted in his memory and he swears he was not the same man at that moment. It was like your beauty had short-circuited his brain.

“Hey,” you said softly, placing your forearm on the wood counter.

He raised his head and blinked. Two times. Three times. 

“I am looking for the vinyl of “Diamond life” by Sade. I didn’t see it in the “S” jazz section, are you maybe hiding it behind?” you smiled at him, and your hand pointing to the vinyl bins behind the counter.

Your eyes lingered on him. He was a very attractive man. Dark eyes and long black hair, there was something sexy about this combination. Dark locks of hair hid his forehead and framed his angular face, he had the hottest eyes, piercing and intense. Your hand intertwined with your daughter tightened as you looked at him. 

He blinked so many times, trying to regain control of his thoughts.

“Sade? Yeah, it’s kinda rare, but once in a while, we have some,” he shrugged, typing something on his computer, preferring to look at his computer screen rather than at you, because you made him nervous. “Sorry, we don’t have it today.”

“Aww, too bad. I like this band so much.”

Your daughter fidgeted, visibly disappointed, her cute eyebrows furrowed.  “They don’t have it ? But it’s a vinyl shop, I thought they would have all the vinyls in the world.” She pouted.

You chuckled softly, lowering your head and placing your hand on the top of her head.

“My daughter loves them too, as you can see,” you smiled at him.

Choso’s face softened, he thought your daughter was adorable. She looked exactly like you, like a mini you. He noticed the two of you had the same nails designs, yours in acrylics, and your daughter with simple nail polish. It was cute, honestly.

“Sorry miss, we don’t have all the vinyls of the world, but I’m sure nobody in Tokyo has my taste in music.” He took the pen he had been hiding behind his ear, grabbed a blank piece of paper, and leaned over the counter, looking thoughtful.

“Describe your type of music. Fav Genre, fav bands, and all.”

Your eyes widened, enthusiastic about talking about music.

“Oh, don’t get me started,” you laughed.

A ghost of a smile flashed Choso’s face.

“I’m not the type of person that lets his customers leave his shop with nothing.”

He started writing on the little piece of paper.

“Your like Sade, so you like Jazz, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m more in love with her person and her voice than the instruments. I love female singers who sing about love, poverty, and feelings.”

He looked up to you, seeing the fondness in your eyes as you talked about her. You were a real fan, and he liked that about you.

“I think I have something for you.” 

He stopped writing, and left the counter to go get some vinyl from the bins. You could admire his lean body, he had baggy black jeans, but his thighs looked muscular even from where you were standing. His shirt was tight on his torso, you could see the outline of his abs, and how his biceps were flexing as he searched into the bins. 

He found what he was looking for, and took the vinyl out of its packaging, to put it on the turntable next to him.

“Lauryn hill, To Zion. A song about her love for her child, with Carlos Santana. Amazing song, amazing vocals.”

The song began with guitar, and the soft voice of Lauryn Hill enveloped the shop. You swung your head gently to the sound of the music, and at the moment the chorus came where it went into high notes, you smiled at Choso.

“I love it, it’s such a cute song. Gonna make my daughter listen to it now,” you looked down at your daughter, and stroked her cheeks.

“I don’t listen to a lot of jazz to be honest. My favorite genre is mostly R&B, and rock. But soft rock, like Cigarette After Sex. I’m into rap too,” you explained as he came back behind the counter and picked up his pencil.

“Recent R&B or 90s?”

“Both. Love Brent Faiyaz, SWV and Aaliyah.”

“Good taste,” his praise made you all tingly.

He remained silent as he continued writing on the paper, and you leaned over to see what he was writing. As he did, your chest pressed against the counter, making it perkier, and when Choso raised his eyes, his cheeks heated up. With rosy cheeks, he continued what he was doing, trying not to stare too much at you, not wanting to look like a creep.

“There,” he handed to you the paper with a soft expression. “I hope you like it.”

You took the paper, and your eyes lit up at the number of artists and songs he had written on it. From recommending music from Aaliyah that you might like, to new artists like The Roots, Lauryn Hill, Erykah Badu, Jodeci… He had categorized each artist by genre, offering you alternative R&B with Frank Ocean to 90s R&B with Mint Condition, and rock with The Smiths. He had picked up on the fact that you liked female voices and had made a small category of female singers just for you, singers like Cleo Sol and Jill Scott.

“How did you know I could like Amy Winehouse?! I fucking love her!”

“Just a guess,” for the first time, his lips curled into a soft smile as he gazed at you. He was touched by your enthusiasm for music. You had that in common. 

Your heart raced, you were so thankful. You were already excited to go home, open Spotify or Itunes and listen to all his recommendations.

“Thank you so much, I’m not depressed anymore for Sade.”

“You see, sweetheart?” you bowed your head to pat your daughter’s head. “We have lots of new music to listen to together, thanks to him.”

Your daughter stood on tiptoe to look at the paper you held out and she giggled, happy.

You didn’t want to go now. You wanted to talk with him again about music, and wanted to know more about him and what he liked to listen to. To have a real discussion about music, not a commercial discussion. He was really good at sales and business, you were already thinking about coming back next week to find vinyls of the artists he had recommended to you.

As you made your way towards the exit, you were suddenly pulled back softly by the arm, Choso grabbing it. He moved so fast from the counter to stop you.

“Just one last thing,” he began, his cheeks rosy, “I’m totally not doing that to ask you out, I promise.”

You paused, tilting your head.

“What is it?”

“My brother has a bar. A bar specializing in jazz and r&b. He’s quite famous, and a lot of artists come and do mini concerts there. I thought you might like it.”

A smile flashed on your face.

“That’s so cool! Where is it?”

He gestured to the wall next to you where a poster for a chic bar was posted. “The Groove”, it was named.

“Thank you,” your smile widened, “I will definitely go there this week with some friends. We were looking for a quiet place in Tokyo, this is perfect.”

“Good.”

He seemed shy, as if the contact of your skin burned him so he hastily let go of your arm. 

“So…”

“See you soon? I’m definitely coming back!!! I’m gonna make a tierlist of all your recommended songs.”

His gaze softened, and he chuckled, putting his hands in his pockets. You were pretty, funny and has good taste in music. He was starting to have a horrible crush on you.

“See you soon.”

────୨ৎ────

𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 - 𝐪𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐚

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

Choso’s music taste was so good. 

You had listened to all the recent albums by the artists he had recommended to you, and listened to all the songs he had written down on paper, and all of them were a bop. You had come back to the vinyl shop to find the vinyls of your new favorite artists and to give him your opinion on his recommendations. In the end, it had become a habit. You always came all happy in search of new vinyl and he always prepared a paper with new artists to discover.

Choso liked you. You were his secret crush. He waited impatiently for the day of the week when you were going to pass by, the similar heat invading him when he caught a glance of your hair in the sun in the entrance of the shop. He liked your voice, which always got excited to talk about music, and softened when you talked about your daughter, he liked your clothing style, you took his breath away every time you passed by the shop with an outfit that revealed the shape of your body. He liked talking to you, answering your daughter's curious questions. He liked you.

You liked him too, to be honest. He was fine as hell, you remembered precisely the day he had carried vinyl bins and how his shirt had ridden up, revealing tattoos on his hips and lean abs. He had tattoos on his neck, his hips, his arms, everywhere. You had memorized all his piercings, one in his nostril, many in his ears, and one in his eyebrow. He was always dressed in black, and he looked good like that.

He was passionate about music and knowledgeable about his subject. You could spend hours listening to him talk, and watch him put vinyl on the turntable so you could hear his recommendations. The problem was that you only talked about music when you wanted to know a little more about him. Know the meaning of his tattoos, what music he listened to when he was sad, how he got into music, his name. You wanted to know more about him as a person. 

You were listening to some Frank Ocean song when your friend Mina called you. You stopped doing the dishes, dried your hands, and took the call.

“Hey,” you softly said, and you were greeted by her enthusiasm.

“I’m on leave!! My boss is going to leave me alone for the week, time to go out and have fun girl!”

You burst out laughing in your kitchen, listening to your friend energetically tell how she finally had some time off after months, and wanted to celebrate with you. You worked from home to be close to your daughter, so you had a lot of free time compared to her who worked for a big company that was stingy on vacations. 

“You don’t leave your house often, I'm gonna get you out of here!”

“I'm leaving my place to do grocery shopping, and search for vinyls,” you remind her as you dries the dishes.

“Boooh, that’s so lame,” you could picture her rolling her eyes at the other end of the phone line, and you chuckled.

“Wait, I didn’t tell you about the cute guy I met-”

“Drop the tea!!! It’s been years since you talked about a man, I’m excited!”

You told him everything from the beginning, until today when he lent you a book about jazz and all the greatest artists of the genre.

“He’s definetely in love with you,” she stated and you laughed.

“Please.”

“You got a whole man bending over the counter to write playlists for you every week. And he gave you a book. Sounds like the beginning of a love story to me.”

You sighed, amused by her. It was true his actions were cute, but being in love with you ?

“He’s so fine, he can’t be single.”

“Tell me more about him. I bet he look like an emo kid.”

You paused, laughing you ass off. 

“What the fuck?”

“You think I don’t know you ? Your type is men with long hair, tattoos and piercings.”

“You just described him.”

“See?” she chuckled.

“Okay, maybe… Maybe, it’s true. But he’s more like a punk kid than emo. There is a lot of punk bands in his shop,” you said as you were cleaning the sink with one hand, and the other holding the phone.

“Whatever, the two of you are a match in heaven. Don’t sabotage this, I beg you.”

“Sabotage?”

She sighed, and her voice was hesitant.

“You know what I mean. You always sabotage your relationships before they could grow.”

“You mean me being having standards for me and my daughter and taking no shit?” you frowned.

It was true since your daughter's father left you, not wanting to raise a child, you were very careful about who you trusted. You didn't want your daughter to get used to seeing different men hanging around the house, so you avoided bringing your dates home, and you were very demanding. Your daughter's safety was what worried you the most, and you didn't want to bring just anyone home. 

“Not that. More like your trust issues ruining the relationships.”

“I found out my last date had a criminal record for sex trafficking, sorry to be careful now,” you mumbled, a bit irritated by the way she was judging you. She was your friend, but she didn’t know what it was to have a child.

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah. But enough talking about this,” you said, waiting to drop the subject. “My daughter is at my mom’s house. I’m free tonight if you want to drink something,” you smiled.

Explosion of happiness on the other end of the line, you moved the phone a little away from your ear while Mina screamed in joy. You were grateful to have a friend like her. She was honest, enthusiastic, and took time to check on you every month, to see how you were doing alone with your child. She could be a little blunt at times, but she was caring in her own ways. 

Suddenly, you reminded something. 

“I think I have the perfect bar for us.”

────୨ৎ────

“The Groove” was a chic bar, located next to a park. The walls were made of brick and covered with paintings by world-famous artists. There were large sophisticated lamps that dimly lit the bar, creating a sensual atmosphere. The room was built so that the stage was in the middle and the tables and chairs were placed around it. The bar counter was rounded, everything was made of wood, the counter and the tables, while the chairs were made of vintage fabric with flower patterns on them. 

Choso occasionally worked for his brother Yuuji, when there was a shortage of waiters. He stood behind the bar counter, wiping glasses with a dishcloth, when he looked up to see who had come in. He froze in place when he saw you. Just you, he was staring at only you, and didn't even acknowledge your friend. You stole all his attention.

Dressed in a long dress that touched the floor, you walked into the room, amazed by the lamps around you. Artists played the saxophone on the stage, and you were immediately immersed in the atmosphere of the jazz bar. Your black dress was elegant, and the neckline deep. It was a completely black dress with no artifice but a bare back. Simple, elegant, perfect for going to the bar.

Yet, you were stunning in his eyes. The same heat arose in his body, as every time he saw you. As you walked in the bar and soon arrived at the counter, his brain was thinking fast. He was almost done with his shift, and he will be damned if he didn't take the opportunity to talk to you for real, get to know you, or even flirt with you. Shit. He wasn't a seducer, he didn't know what he had to do to seduce you, but he wanted you bad.

Your eyes widened when you saw Choso behind the counter bar. You nudged your friend.

“What?” 

“The cute guy I was talking about is literally just here,” you whispered in a tense voice.

She looked at the direction you were looking and her eyes lit up.

“You have so much taste in men, damn. He’s so-”

You nudged her again, not wanting to play along.

“Stop it, be normal. Please,” you mumbled as you approached the counter.

“You didn’t tell me you worked here,” you placed your hands on one of the high chairs at the bar, a polite smile on your face.

It was at this moment that Choso noticed that you weren't alone, and he looked at your friend, who also had a long golden dress, which was the perfect match with her dark brown skin.

“You didn’t ask me,” he simply said as he continued to wipe his glasses. “It’s nice to see you here, what would you like to drink?”

His voice was nonchalant but inside his heart were racing. The thing about Choso was that he was shy in places and situations where he was not in control. His vinyl shop was his safe place, music was his favorite subject, he was in something he knew perfectly. But seeing you here, at his brother's bar, was something else entirely.

“Two mojitos please,” your friend said softly, and begin to walk towards the table area. “I leave you alone,” she whispered in your ear before leaving. 

You were grateful, and smiled at her, before your attention was back on Choso.

“You never told me your name.”

“Choso. Choso Kamo,” he started to do your drinks. “And you?”

You said your name, and he repeated it softly, to see how it rolled on his tongue.

“It’s pretty. Like you.”

“Did you just compliment your customer?” you smile widened.

“You’re not my customer here, I can do whatever I want with you.”

Was he flirting with you? You didn’t know but you liked where this conversation was going. You leaned against the counter.

“Does that mean we can ask ourselves questions that have nothing to do with music?”

“Like, can you wait for me before you leave with your friend? I’m almost done with my shift, and I’d like to talk with you.”

He was bolder and bolder, and you liked it. Your cheeks ached from smiling, and you nodded.

He gave you your drinks, and his eyes lingered on yours for a moment as yours hands touched each other when you took the drinks. You felt hot under his gaze, and you felt his eyes on you on your back even when you walked toward when your friend were sitting. 

────୨ৎ────

His shift was over and he had to go home but he was sitting on the high chairs at the counter bar, his eyes still on you. He was already thinking about what he was going to say to you when he was alone with you, and his legs were shaking with nervousness.

“What are you waiting for?” Yuuji said, who was making cocktails behind the counter.

“A girl.”

“A girl ?!” Yuuji’s eyes widened with surprise.

Choso never talked about girls, crushes or conquests. He was too shy to do anything with a girl. So Yuuji was surprised.

“She’s here?”

“Shut up,” Choso’s cheeks grew rosy, and Yuuji chuckled.

“You’re whipped,” Yuuji smirked.

Just at that moment, he heard a chair scrape the floor and turned his head toward you. Your friend was picking up her bag, ready to leave. This was his moment, he thought. He stood up from the high chair, took a few strides, and came to your table. He didn't look you in the eye as he sat down where your friend was.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey.”

The moment you were waiting for the most was here. A slight silence settled between you. It wasn't awkward, you were busy watching the artists play the saxophone in front of you. The melody gently enveloped the room. You were far from drunk, but a little tipsy, and smiled like an idiot.

“You're really pretty tonight,” Choso broke the silence first.

His eyes scanned your figure from head to toe, to remember it better later. He tried not to fix his eyes too much on your chest.

You turned your head towards him with a soft expression.

“Thank you,” you sipped your drink a little.

You acted calm, but inwardly you were nervous and you struggled to hold your glass steadily. It's been a while since you flirted with someone, you were too busy with your job and your daughter to do that.

Another silence.

“You…”

“So…”

You start your sentence at the same time and Choso chuckled softly.

“I'm not good at that,” he confessed, his voice low.

“Neither I am.”

“Really, though? I’m actually surprised you let me flirt with you.”

“What do you mean?”

He leaned his body over the table, moving closer to you.

“I mean,” he whispered, as if it was a secret, “a beauty like you can't be single, or am I just incredibly lucky today?”

Your stomach warmed.

“You're surprisingly really smooth for someone bad at this.”

“You're not answering the question,” he grinned, and you paused, admiring how his smile lit up his whole face.

“I’m single.”

“My lucky day.”

“Who said I was interested?”

“I will make you interested.”

You let out a soft chuckle.

“Confident, aren’t you?” you teased him.

He was anything but that. Under the table, he rubbed his sweaty hands on his jeans, his heart pounding. He was going to do things right, and had the goal of having at least your number by the end of the night. Or give you his, he was still hesitant.

“Tell me more about you. I can name your top 3 Spotify artists but I don’t even know your favorite color.”

“I'm a graphic designer who works at home, and I love reading romance books.”

“Graphic design? You make posters?”

You nodded.

“I work for a startup and do advertising. I make their posters, flyers. Pretty much everything visual for the brand.”

Choso listened to you attentively.

“Cool. I bet you must have favorite fonts.”

You let out a small laugh. He liked the sound so much and wanted you to always make it in front of him. 

“Yeah, but nothing could beat New Times Roman. She's a badass,” you joked.

You talk to him about work for a few minutes, telling him what you like best about your job, what you like least, and how much fun it is to do it from home. Choso took the time to listen without interrupting you, nodding his head from time to time. You felt like he was interested in everything you said so you spoke without censorship. He had trouble looking you in the eye so his eyes darted to the side at times or he looked at the stage.

“It's cool how you're so passionate about everything.” He leaned against the back of his chair. “Your eyes are always bright when you talk about something you care about.”

“Really?”

You had never noticed this side of yourself.

“Yeah, it's cute. Your daughter is the same.”

Nothing could prepare you for the effect it had on you. It was a little thing, but it softened you, and warmth released in your belly.

“You're becoming a softie everytime I mention your daughter,” his eyes softened.

“You're really observant, it's scary.”

“I’ve been staring at you since you came to the shop. You steal all my attention.”

You were having trouble inhaling. He was going to make you shy if he kept this up.

“Enough talking about me, it’s your turn.” you decide to change the subject.

“You know my job already.”

“Your life is your job?”

“Pretty much. It’s my safe place. My hobby, my passion,” he said firmly. “My life is music.”

“What’s the last concert you went to recently?”

“Cigarettes After Sex.”

“Oh my god! Tell me about it.”

He smiled gently.

“It was amazing.”

“Of course it was, you’re so lucky to have managed to get tickets.”

“When you work in the music industry, it’s easier.”

You continued to talk about everything and nothing. Choso was easy to talk to, and he was a good listener. You learned more about him, about his bond with his brother Yuuji, what studies he had done or not done since he had dropped out of college to start his own thing, his shop. That was why his shop was so important to him, it was the realization of hard work and his biggest dream.

“I had to make a lot of sacrifices for my shop, dropping out of college was scary. It was like taking a plunge into the unknown.”

Empathy filled your eyes.

“I get that. It’s like your little baby, your shop. I was scared too when I got my daughter.”

“Are you raising her alone?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “Her father didn’t want her.”

You confided in me about intimate things, but you felt comfortable with Choso. There was a connection with him, something inexplicable that bound the two of you together. You felt like you could tell him anything.

“What’s it like raising a child alone, not too tired?”

“Let’s just say my life revolves around her now, everything I choose for myself will have consequences for her. I can’t have fun dating just anyone, I think about how it might affect her,” you said with a thoughtful expression, looking down at your glass.

You told Choso how you had been through your pregnancy alone, and confided in him about the postpartum depression you had been experiencing. Choso listened to you attentively, he seemed really interested in what you said, and it put you at ease. It felt good to talk to someone other than Mina. You discussed current events, music, and books. It was a nice evening for the two of you where you felt safe with each other. You could be vulnerable with him.

Before leaving the bar, Choso had slipped a piece of paper with his number on it onto the table. He hadn’t looked you in the eye during the movement, staring at his knees. You found the action cute, finding it cute that he was so shy when he had been hitting on you all evening. You took the paper and put it in your bag.

Choso walked you towards the exit, his hand on the small of your back. His touch made everything tingly.

“It was a nice evening, Choso.”

“I hope this isn’t the last between us.”

You turned to him, a soft smile on your face.

“I can consider the idea.”

“Take your time, I’m all yours,” he whispered just near your ear and goosebumps spread across your skin.

Leaving the bar, the cold air outside made you shiver and you rubbed your arms. You turned to Choso still with your stupid smile because of the alcohol.

“So…”

“I’m walking you home,” Choso’s voice was firm, it wasn’t a question. “You’re tipsy and a woman alone in the night.”

You had no objection, and found his concern endearing. He took off his leather jacket to gently place it on your shoulders and you were melting inside. You continued to chat into the night, walking side by side.

You really liked Choso. He was a kind, passionate and caring man, who was close to his family and serious in his work. He had let you confide in him about your deepest pain concerning your daughter, and you didn't want it to stop there. You were planning on using his number, and seeing where this connection could lead you. Mina's voice came back into your head, advising you to stop ruining your relationships, and for the first time in a long time, you told yourself that she was right, and that you didn't want to ruin that connection with Choso.

But when you arrived in front of your house, you didn't know if it was the alcohol that made you act or the hidden desire you felt for him that resurfaced, your lips acted on their own when he lowered his head towards you to say goodbye. You gently pressed your lips against him, and he froze on the spot.

────୨ৎ────

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞  - 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

You traced his bottom with the edge of your tongue, and he let out a soft sigh, his lips parted. If you wanted a kiss, he was going to give it to you. He was waiting for that all night long. He sucked in a breath, lips itching for passion, and brushed his tongue against yours as his hands gripped the back of your head, bringing you closer to him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and tangled your tongue with his. At first the kiss was gentle, teasing then it quickly became hungry, intense. He was craving you. You don't know how you get into the building, all you focused on was how he was ravishing your mouth while grinding his hips against yours, his length hard and needy in his pants. You pressed the elevator button then your floor number, and let out a soft moan as Choso pinned you against the elevator wall, continuing to kiss you with ardor and voracity.

He placed his arms under your ass, lifting you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. You rocked your hips against him, your lower half throbbing in need for friction. He slammed you against the elevator wall with each of his thrusts. Your hands in his back, you gripped at his shirt while you were panting against his lips. It’s been months since you did that with someone, your head was on fire. The elevator went up as you rubbed against each other, kissing.

The elevator stopped at your floor, and you stepped away from Choso for a few seconds, catching your breath.

“Follow me,” you took his hand in yours, and led him with you to your apartment. He followed behind you, his eyes on your ass. He wasn’t shy anymore, you had awakened a burning fire in him that he was waiting to release. You took out your keys to open the door but your hands were shaking. This was the first time you had brought a man home since you had your daughter.

“Where is your room?” he pinned you against the door once you were inside the apartment and lifted you again, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“At the back on the right.”

He carried you to your bedroom while pressing soft kisses on your jaw. Arrivé dans ta chambre, il te jeta sur le lit. Tu te redressais sur tes coudes, looking at him.

“Your daughter isn’t here?”

“She’s at her grandmother’s.”

“Perfect,” he said, rubbing his hands together and the action made you laugh. He looked like a child about to unwrap a Christmas present. Even though it was funny, it was making you kind of nervous, your heart raced.

“Choso, I…”

“What is it ?” his eyes softened as they roamed your figure on the bed. He noticed the little shaking of your hands. He walked forward and placed one knee on the bed.

“It’s been so long since I did this, I don’t know if…”

He bent over, took your hand and placed it on his chest, on his heart. You felt the rapid beats under your palms. 

“I’m as nervous as you,” his voice was tender, “I’m not that experienced, I’m afraid of making mistakes, and ruining the moment. But as you can feel it, I’m excited as fuck. I want to do this.”

He lowered his head just above yours, his gentle eyes roving over your figure on the bed.

“So, can you trust me?”

Lips pressed against yours, he ravaged your mouth. His kiss was feverish, hungry. Your lips molding against each other, tongue brushing against each other, the atmosphere quickly became sensual and intense. Your hands caressed his arms, gripped as his shirt when he nuzzled your neck to press soft kisses against it.

“I always wanted to see your tattoos,” you whispered, turning your head to give him more room to kiss you.

“You do?” Choso smiled against your skin, his tongue licking at a spot on your neck. You shivered at the sensation.

He straightened himself, knees on the bed. He took off his shirt, and your eyes widened at the amount of tattoos he had on his chest and arms. You lifted a hand to touch them, hypnotized. 

“Do they have any special meanings?”

“No, I liked the drawings.” He took your hands and let it roam on his skin.

His skin was smooth, you were taking in the sight of him, shirtless in front of you, his muscles flexing with each of your touch. He looked like a fallen angel. An extraordinary beauty, complex and dark with ink on his skin, and his long black hair.

“Let me see you too,” he murmured and tugged at your dress.

You flinched, hesitant. This was going to be the first time a man saw you naked after your pregnancy. You couldn’t help but be invaded by insecure thoughts about your body. You hadn’t yet lost the weight gained during pregnancy, and working from home, you weren’t getting much exercise. You had the “mom bod” that people online liked to criticize. Choso noticed your expression and bent over again, cupping your face. His touch was gentle.

“What is it?”

“It’s embarrassing,” you chuckled uncomfortably.

“Tell me.”

He looked so good just above you, you were almost jealous of him. You looked away, not knowing how to explain what you were feeling. His eyes narrowed as he looked at you.

“I want to hear it, even if it's embarrassing,” he whispered softly, not backing down. 

“It’s been a while, that’s all.”

He gently eased the straps of your dress down your arms, and you flinched without wanting it.

“You’re sure you want it?”

Your stomach dropped, feeling guilty. You were ruining this.

“Of course I do, it’s just…”

God, it was so frustrating. You didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of him and call yourself fat, you didn’t want to seem like you needed attention. Raising a child alone has taught you to be independent, to not rely on others, so why did you feel so weak right now? You were worth more than this.

“Leave it to me,” Choso whispered, his voice soft and reassuring, and you were grateful to have come across someone so gentle with you.

He nuzzled against your neck again, kissing the sensitive flesh. As he was wandering his lips on your skin, his hands were busy removing your dress. He removed each layer of clothing gently and patiently, his touch soft on your skin.  With the dress off, all you had left was your underwear. Your heart was pounding, and you fought the need to cover your breasts with your arm. As you breastfed your daughter, your breasts were a bit saggy and was your biggest insecurity. 

His eyes never left your face, his head went down and down, kissing your shoulders, your collarbones, and then your chest. Goosebumps spread across your flesh as the cold air of the room brushed your skin. He wrapped his tongue around one of your nipple and sucked it. You arched your back on the bed, dipping your hands in his hair. He revelled in the pleasure he could make you feel.

Tits stuffed in his mouth, his hands wandered around your thighs, teasing you. His palms were dangerously close to an area that was yearning for his touch. You let out a soft moan when his fingers started to caress your center. He shivered at the sound, and continued his caresses on your clothed cunt. His index and his middle fingers moved back and forth at the wet spot on the underwear, and he smiled against your skin as he felt you squirming under him.

He didn't torture you for long, as he slid his fingers under your thong to finger you better. His elbow on the bed, he kept his eyes on your face as he pushed his fingers in and out, the soft squelch of your pussy enveloping the room. He took pleasure just by looking at you squirming and gasping for air, hearing your soft pleas. You tugged at his hair, as you rocked your hips against his hands, chasing your orgasm. You were so close, you needed a little more.

“Cho’,” you were a mess, moaning his name as his thumb rubbed against your clit.

“I know, I know,” Choso sucked on your nipple, his fingers thrusting in and out your center, his hands sticky by your arousal.

There was something magical about having your tits eaten while being fingered. It was an incredible, intoxicating feeling that washed over you as you came on his fingers. For a second, you forgot about your insecurities and were overcome by pleasure. 

Choso didn’t waste time, and quickly took off his jeans and boxers, and threw them somewhere in the room. He was so excited, his cock was throbbing. 

“Wait,” you stopped him, coming down from your high.

You sat up to grab a condom from your nightstand and handed it to him. A deep, low laugh rumbled in his chest as he took it.

“My bad, I almost forgot.”

He put the condom on and positioned himself between your legs. He looked up to take in the sight of you lying on the bed for him. He saw the stretch marks that you proudly displayed, your saggy breasts that made you self-conscious, and the parts of your body that were thick and round, and he fucking loved it. Electric feeling sparked across his body as he gazed at you with feverish eyes. You were so fucking sexy that he couldn’t wait to ravish you. He had always told himself that he did not have a type of girls in his life, but as he looked at your chest rising and falling, he thought that his type was you. He wanted all of you, and it was with the intention of driving you crazy with pleasure that he lined his throbbing cock with your entrance, and slammed into you.

You jolted, a moan of pain slipping out of your mouth. He was so big, and was making you feel full, you needed time to adjust at his length.

“Sorry,” he whispered as he rubbed his thumb on your clit to relax you.

He pushed in and out in a slow motion, giving time to adjust. When he noticed your expression was relaxed, he started to picking up the pace of his thrusts. His hands gripped your love handles to hold you in place and you were flustered by his animality. He was going to fuck you stupid, you knew that.

“You’re so beautiful, it’s a crime that you’re not married to me and I can’t fuck you like this everyday.”

You wanted to answer to him but you were panting, and struggled to even articulate a sentence as he pounded into you. He was fucking you stupid, the shy and gentle Choso wasn’t here anymore and all that remained was the wild creature he was becoming because of you. He was fucking you to oblivion, his cock rutting into you. Lewd and wet noises enveloped the room.

“You hear how good I am making you feel, baby? If you were mine, I would let you feel like this everyday,” he breathed out. 

In pure bliss, his eyes roamed your figure on the bed, your tits and other parts of your thick body jiggling and bouncing because of his hard thrusts, and he felt in heaven. That was what he wanted in his life. He turned you around, your chest pressing against the mattress, and your ass up. Nervous, you turned your head to look at him behind you but he pushed your head against the pillow as he grew more dominant and slammed his hips against your ass. Your whole body jolted and you moaned into the pillow, gripping it in your hands. 

“That ass is to kill for,” he grunted as he gripped your love handles even tighter, and he was becoming dizzy as he looked at your ass ricochetting on his pelvis with each of his thrusts. He slapped your ass with force, and soft pleas left your mouth. 

He completely ravaged your body, fucking you with force and intensity from the back. Gasping for air, you rolled your eyes to the back of your head, moaning helplessly into the pillow as you were close. Even when you came, he didn’t stop. He continued to pound into you as if it was his last mission on earth, and when he finished, you had no strength anymore in your body. 

────୨ৎ────

“I’m not casual about you,” he whispered softly in your hair, “I'll scare you if you knew everything I imagine with you.”

A soft chuckle escaped your mouth. Lying on the bed together, legs intertwined, bodies sweating, and slowly catching your breaths, you relaxed together.

And you imagined a life where Choso were yours, and you felt happy in his arms.

𓍯 𝐤𝐫𝐲𝐬

[andersonsgf]

modern roommate!abby

this shall be so criminally self indulgent :)

18+ bit of smut. minors dni.

modern roommate!abby who wasn't keen on you at first. manny had just moved out and it felt as though she had practically grabbed you from the street to make sure she could make rent that month. but she did not like living with a stranger. for the first week she kicked you to the curb, giving you minimal responses when you tried to talk. She looked at you with a frown most of the time, blinking at you when you suggested a movie on your third night. "I'm going out tonight" was her response, mentally noting to make sure to text manny to hang out now.

modern roommate!abby who after getting over her initial distaste realised you weren't too bad after all. at first she protested that you put little trinkets of yours around the apartment. "i don't see why you have to make this place look like one of your fucking video game stores", she complained when some lego blockheadz appeared near the tv. but after a little while she came to find that she didn't mind it so much, and after getting over the fact that manny was gone she realised you were filling all the little gaps he had left in your own way.

besides, you had pointed out all of her trinkets that were dotted around. "those aren't trinkets!", she had protested, arguing that her mass amount of classic books and classical music CDs dotted around were fine collections, and not "kids toys". you had for sure worn her down, though. you won the battle claiming that you deserve to have your fine collections around the apartment too. even though abby was annoyed that her entire apartment felt different now, she wasn't a dick. you were paying equal rent, you should have equal trinkets.

modern roommate!abby who after finally deeming that you weren't a threat to her little paradise at home drove you everywhere. your shiftwork at the local store was on her way to her work. it was the least she could do she felt, not trusting other people to keep you safe when walking around seattle on your own. she wouldn't tell anyone you were friends yet, still telling people that you were just her pesky roommate. still, she couldn't bear the thought of you shuffling through the torrential seattle rain to work, then walking back in the dark after. no, no. she was willing to be your chauffeur. she even gave you the aux. she would rub her forehead when she saw you put it on without her permission anymore, but she never made you turn it off.

modern roommate!abby who has a rigorous sleep schedule thanks to all of the rugby training she does cannot understand how one night you will be in bed asleep by 10, and the next she'll wake up for a glass of water and hear you shuffling around in your adjoining room at 2am. time and time again she would lecture you on not going to bed late due to your commitment to your playstation, but she soon realised it was no use. you were unfortunately a gremlin.

you consistently mocked her for going to bed at a "baby hour". it was always met with an eye roll and her telling you you would meet an early grave from sleep deprivation. come to think of it, she often told you that you'd die young. whether it be from lack of sleep, eating too much candy, not looking properly when confidently stepping out into the road, or just being oblivious to the world around you in general. "you gotta get healthier so i know my rent payments are still secure", she'd tell you whilst eating her perfectly counted macros meal after the two of you visited the gym together, watching you scoff your face with your version of a post-gym snack. a subway sandwich with four rainbow cookies.

modern roommate!abby was pleasantly surprised to find out that you were a gym rat too. she obviously had way more muscle, built like an ox, but you were doing pretty well for yourself too. different body types had different ways of showing muscle anyway. at first she couldn't really tell, you had moved in in the winter so wore baggy comfy layers to the gym. after a few months of joining in on her training sessions though, the seasons changing and the weather warming up, you started wearing your matching sets. abbys favourite was your dark blue ones, a cropped muscle shirt and shorts. not that she would ever ever admit to you that she had a favourite.

she would never admit that sometimes she corrected your form just to get a little closer. your form was never wrong, she'd taught you too well over the months. she was embarrassed, her eye contact when in the gym dropped completely, and she had never been one to shy away from that kind of crap. you were though, eye contact had always alluded you so you didn't notice the way abby could barely look at you, feeling terrible for ogling you in your new leggings when she helped you on the squat rack.

modern roommate!abby who when she got a text that you cracked your tooth on a skittle at work booked half her shift off and drove you to the dentist. she didn't even have to think about it, just told her boss she had a family emergency and had the 'holiday' booked within five minutes. she pulled up to the curbside with a screech, staring at you with an incredulous expression. "you're like four minutes from your work why did you start walking?", she had half yelled out the window.

"what? why are you out of work?", your hand was covering your cheek on the cracked tooth side of your face as if that would do anything. abby sighed, pushing the endearing thoughts towards you out of her head as she yelled at you to "get in the fucking car". she took you for a milkshake after it got fixed.

modern roommate!abby who got comfortable enough with you in her life to invite her friends around for an evening of drunk games again. manny made about ten jokes over the course of the night about how he was invited to his own apartment. you laughed at how he poked fun at how you ruined his old room. hearing your drunken giggles made abby smile a lot over the course of that night. you'd become a permanent fixture in her life, and as the drinks kept coming she kept sidling closer and closer to you on the couch, basically ignoring her friends as they cracked open a board game and ten more beers. you spent the night basically staring at her hands as they clutched onto the various beer bottles. they were just so fucking big, and attached to the biggest forearms you had ever seen.

at some point you got up to go make some toast, trying to preemptively cure the hangover you knew you were going to get. you had completely missed how abbys eyes narrowed into thin slits when one of her coworkers took interest in you and very clearly tried to chat you up in the kitchen. her hand almost crunched the beer bottle when she saw that womans hand on the small of your back. you had been clearly too drunk to notice much, but you did approach abby the next morning after finding a phone number slipped into your back pocket.

"you scored last night, huh?". abbys heart raced a million miles an hour as she looked at you. it shouldn't have mattered, she wasn't interested in dating, nevermind getting into it with a roommate. that was a terrible choice. but she couldn't deny the smirk she held back by sipping on some orange juice as you murmured about not being interested whilst throwing the paper in the bin.

modern roommate!abby didn't invite that particular coworker around again. you did question it when she was absent at the next hangout. "She's just busy, sweetheart", she was drunk enough to call you that as her hand covered your knee completely. she woke up humiliated at how many advances she had sent your way that night, but if you noticed then you didn't make it clear, entering the kitchen the same way you did every morning. your bright smile melted her heart.

after a while modern roommate!abby started cooking for you more. she wanted to make sure you were getting a good amount of protein and carbs with how much physical exercise you did each week. not as much as her of course, but still a hefty amount. it became a common occurrence for her to hand you some tupperware with your name on a post-it before she drove you to work. she never put a post-it on her own tupperware though, which you thought needed to be rectified. she was pleasantly surprised when she got to work, seeing "abby <3 :)" on her lunch. it did lead to her having to deny having a girlfriend at work though, her coworkers pestering her about it nonstop. it did get her thinking, however. you were sweet, maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing- no, no.

modern roommate!abby who decided to invite you to a rugby game for the first time. you knew she worked in an office for her main income, and obviously knew she was on a rugby team. what you didn't know was that she was in an actual major league team, the seattle seawolves. you also didn't know that she was such a star of the show that premiership teams were looking into scouting her for the next seasons. fucking hell. it now felt like living with a celebrity. you sat alone on the bench near the pitch, getting special treatment for being a special guest. a decent crowd showed and screamed loud when the seattle team had momentum. abby pushed harder than she ever had now that you were in the crowd. she pushed through tackles like the opponents were made of butter, easily reaching the end goal and slamming both herself and the ball onto the floor near the posts, making life easier for the kicker. you, meanwhile? drooling. straight up drooling. Her muscles rippled as she stormed across the pitch, her hamstrings and quads were sculpted and your eyes were pinned to them. suddenly you realised why people liked watching rugby.

it was a win, of course. she celebrated with her teammates on the pitch as the crowd slowly filtered out. it was incredible. abby won player of the match, scoring the most tries, letting her team win by a landslide. "well done!", you spoke louder to be heard over everyone as you reached her after hurrying across the pitch. abbys heart skipped and her ears rang as she saw you grin up at her before you went up on your tiptoes and wrapped your arms around her neck.

modern roommate!abby who after this had realised she was down bad. one hug should not have been on her mind for this long. and abby 'get the fuck away from me' anderson never normally craved another hug after someone held her. but no, she started even inviting you to match practices and being a tryhard just for the chance of you giving her another well done hug after. fuck, she was so screwed. she even found herself putting her hands on you when moving past you in the apartment, making sure to get your favourite snacks in if she saw you were out of them. she'd never done this when manny lived with her so she could not chalk it up to just feeling comfortable. she grumbled to herself when you arrived home from wandering around the city and she smiled too brightly during welcoming you home, huffing and puffing and making her sandwich too aggressively when you were back in your room.

"why are there so many finger marks in your bread?", you startled her. your chuckle reverberated around her heart, making it beat faster. she gave some pathetic excuse about literally hand planting her sandwich as she tripped coming back from the fridge. you believed it, shrugging her off as you sat down next to her and unwrapped another subway.

modern roommate!abby who made it all worse when acting deeply uncomfortable when you talked about dating apps. "i mean, i thought when i moved to the city that the choices in women would be better but its still 'katy and brent looking for their third', or 'just looking for some fun on my exchange!'. ugh does no woman in seattle just want a nice relationship or something?". abby looked up from her beer, looking a little frazzled that the topic of dating was now here. she painfully swallowed a hunk of pizza whilst absentmindedly agreeing with you. "what's your relationship take? do you have much luck here?".

she sighed, fucksake. "i don't really have one", she brushed you off, watching as you frowned at her. it's not like she could admit that her relationship take right now was you. "how can you not have one?".

"i mean one day it might be nice to settle down but like you said the dating pool is shit".

"yeah it is pretty shit. i dunno, i kinda like knowing the person first, might just delete hinge it's so ass", you grumbled and she watched you toss the application into the trash, her chest felt relieved. without the dating apps she didn't have to worry about you finding an actual person on there, now she could take her time in being a wimp around the apartment again.

modern roommate!abby who had managed to make it even more worse when you scampered through the apartment in just a shirt and your underwear after a shower, yelling in panic about how you left your pyjama bottoms by accident. even you in all of your beautiful obliviousness noticed the way she stared at your ass as soon as you were in view of the living room. you clearly gulped and scampered away even faster as you felt your face and ears flush. abby had to go and get a drink of water before shaking her head. you were her roommate, it was too complicated. but now that she had seen you in some simple black cotton underwear -to abby, the simple stuff was hotter- she knew she was fucked. not in the fun way.

before she knew it her car keys were in her hand and she was heading to mannys apartment. he enthusiastically invited her in and she immediately shared her woes about how she had fallen so hard for her new roommate. "dude, you can't do apartment-cest".

"don't call it that, that's gross", she shoved his shoulder and got a soda out of his fridge. "i didn't think i had a type before her but she's just so sweet y'know? like everything she says is like she's throwing rainbows at me even if she's complaining about how her avocado socks got soggy on a walk or some shit".

"dip your pen in the apartment ink, then", manny sat down on his couch whilst trying to subtly shove someones bra under a cushion.

"i could have maybe continued silently pining after her like a fucking loser but she caught me staring at her ass and fuck it was a good one". abby anderson basically whined when thinking about how she saw you at the apartment, her stomach doing that thing.

modern roommate!abby who hid at mannys apartment until 10pm when you had your shower at 5. she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole when you looked up at her as soon as she opened the door. you had been waiting for her with a tub of ben and jerrys, and you were wearing her rugby teams shirt as a pyjama shirt. fuck. her voice was strained when greeting you, biting the bullet and placing herself on the sofa too. "you were gone a while", you noted. all she could do was nod, her mouth going dry now she knew she'd seen the entirety of your legs. she had decided they were her new weakness. "sorry if i made you uncomfortable".

"the opposite, actually", she replied after a moment. and neither of you knew where to go from there. in every aspect of her life abby was headstrong, intimidating, said what she wanted. but when it came to women? useless. fucking useless.

the memo was received though. but you? also fucking useless. "okay i think we're both knowing where this is going", your voice was careful. terrified. you watched abby nod and shift to be facing more towards you. "maybe we can test to see if its awkward?", you looked up at her.

modern roommate!abby whose hand tentatively placed itself just above your waist as you both leaned in, awkwardly. your noses bumped, and she smiled with a huff before your lips chased hers. it was safe to say that it was a successful test. she worked her lips against yours and wondered why she hadn't been doing this the whole time. you tasted sweet, like orange juice, and her brain went static when you panted slightly as her hand moved up and down the side of your ribcage. sensitive.

modern roommate!abby who loved you hard as soon as you got past the awkward first week of not knowing how to be roommates and also go on dates. she took you out for some amazing burgers the day after your kiss and then got confused on what to do after. you both had the same home. some people may have retreated away to their rooms after, but not her. she straight up followed you into yours after your fifth date on week two, grinning as you laughed when she settled herself onto your bed. she just couldn't be apart from you, it seemed. not that you minded, especially not when you settled curled up against her chest as her hands rubbed your back. these days you could talk the nights away now that the useless pining was over. and you always found that one of abbys hands always found their way down your back and onto your ass, without fail, resting her hand there before falling asleep. think it's safe to say she's an ass girl.

modern roommate!abby who so lived up to that when she meekly asked if she could go from behind during your first time. even though she liked to be 'on top', she really was so shy during it. she made sure you had lots of pillows to be comfortable, she brushed your hair out of your face to make sure it wouldn't annoy you during it. the groan she let out when staring at your lower half, one hand cupping and squeezing it as the other worked the outside of your centre was enough to have you gushing. she worshipped you completely as she started off with one finger, aware that her hands were bigger than average. the small little whines were just not enough though, so she slipped another in, pumping them in and out softly as she gently rocked her body back and forth in time with her wrist, keeping her rhythm steady.

modern roommate!abby who over and over again murmured reassurances when she heard your soft whimpers. "you're okay, you're okay. so fucking hot", she'd slur out in a whisper, punctuating the end of her sentence with another squeeze to your ass before working you harder when she felt you near the finish line. she couldn't get over how good you felt, how warm, groaning when your back arched as she finally got you to the end, feeling ever so slightly proud of herself, and wondering why she hadn't bent you over sooner.

modern roommate!abby who proudly called you her girlfriend now when she brought you to rugby practice, pressing her lips to the top of your head before running off with a wink to go and batter some people. your eyes once again fixated on her thighs, definitely your favourite part of your girlfriend if you were quite frank. even though practice was her favourite time of week, the highlight of it really were those 'well done' hugs. only these days? she got a little kiss with them too.

[vampiresbloodx]

Arcane Imagine;

pairings; Vi/reader

Imagine you and Vi moving in together for the first time.

warnings; fluff, established relationship, love sick!vi, more fluff & comfort, arcane au, implied smut reference, teasing, s*xual jokes

a/n; I recently moved <33 so I wanted to write a lil something for vi I can now get back to writing and making silly lil posts because moving is exhausting as fuck lmao

You and Vi have been thinking about moving in together for the longest time, Vi first thought about it when she laid eyes on you when she saw you at the bar

You were with your friends, hanging out, drinks in hand, laughing along with them, she couldn't stop staring at you, how gorgeous you looked that night, how effortlessly beautiful you are to her

She really was a moth that was drawn to the flame

Because randomly, after meeting you, talking to you for a few hours in some bathroom, she was already attached to you, she didn't say it out loud then, it took her ages to actually tell you she has feelings for you

When she did though, it was the best decision she's made, and the one that didn't go to shit

Vi is always by your side, clinging to you, like a lost puppy, it's adorable, you think, as you do the same to her

But when it's just you two, she really let's down her walls and is just completely herself

When there's others around, she puts on that tough act, your very own scary dog privilege

No one can touch you or talk to you in a wrong way, and if someone upsets you, makes you uncomfortable, well they're in for a beating

Vi does not mind getting her knuckles bloody for you

When you brought up the idea of living together in an apartment, even if it wasn't that big and the rent was high, Vi immediately jumped on board

You found it really fucking cute, watching her ramble excitedly about how you two should decorate your room, apartment, she says how you can have your plants in different places, a nice coffee table, a tv, games, you just really liked listening to her talk

Now when you two did the apartment hunting, that was long and slightly boring, having to meet up with strangers to potentially set a deal on your new home, yes, you were both still very excited, and finally, after trying to find the right one, you both found your home

You got what you could afford, and after signing the lease and getting the keys, you were able to officially move in

The moving was stressful, getting everything together, making sure nothing was lost or broken, Vi kept on worrying about her CDs and DVD collection, same with her other collections she has that she didn't want to lose, stuff that she's kept from her childhood, rare items she's found that people have thrown away for some reason and it's actually worth a lot, Vi likes those stuff, she likes finding good things

You like to add to the collections to, when you find things that remind you of Vi

Vi wouldn't show much of her "nerdy" side to anyone else but you had that special spot

There definitely would be Vi making sex jokes, how the new couch would be perfect to try new positions on, or how the bed might not last that long, for that you slapped her playfully on the shoulder, and she laughed hard

She loved teasing you

And will not stop

Vi never really knew she was ever gonna experience this, just that domestic life filled with good moments that will play a huge part in your life for years, and here she was with you, she did not want to let go

Vi was excited about turning this place into a home that shows the both of you, so when they invited people over they would know immediately

She was crazy for you, in the best way possible and you wouldn't have it anyway else

[centrally-unplanned]

I was going through some archived scans of 90's otaku magazines, as is my sacred duty, and I stumbled on this ad for a Sega Saturn game I did not know:

The pitch of Roommate (as seen here) is that of a "real time" romance simulation:

What makes it real-time is that the game progresses in sync with the Saturn's internal clock. In that way [main girl] Ryoko is just like a real girl; she has her own daily habits and lives her life accordingly. So if you start the game in the afternoon, you might not be able to meet her because she's at school [...] The purpose is to enjoy living together with Ryoko in real time and communicating with her.

And this is exactly the kind of way-too-convoluted gimmick that sacrifices gameplay functionality on the altar of conceptual novelty based on random technology add-ons present in new-gen consoles of the era that I just love. Obviously the concept of starting a game and having the main girl not be present so you cannot play is completely asinine - but think of the realism!

Between that and the discount-Sadamoto 90's character designs, I wanted to see it for myself; so I spent way, way too long setting up a Sega Saturn emulator. In my experience early CD-ROM-based consoles often require much more bespoke set-ups to get working, in this case custom BIOS files in the emulator firmware directories, and JPN-language ones at that for this game. But I got it to work and oh yeah, this is some early "digital" console era crust:

Playing this game is just painful. The clock of course means that you essentially can't play it at all - looking at YouTube comments on the very few Let's Plays and such that exist, people are reminiscing about how they could never find Ryoko because their schedules didn't align. One person even comments:

This game is for NEETs and shut-ins

Which is a valid demo I guess! But it doesn't really stop there - your house is a "fully realized" 3D environment of bare walls which you navigate with clunky controls. Let me log in and take some screenshots...

Jesus Christ it's 10 pm and you are cooking dinner?! The one time I don't want this ghost popping out of the cracks in the floorboards, I swear...

Okay, got rid of her (She broke a plate -_- you moved in yesterday, girl):

You walk, in real time (step by step) through this pixel museum just...hoping that one of the rooms will contain Ryoko and proc a dialogue event based on the time of day. There is a little more to it than that but that is essentially the gameplay. This would, very obviously, be simply better as a straightforward visual novel.

But you see how that just isn't as cool in 1997, right? This is the era where the fidelity of graphics and the technology for simulation is progressing at a rapid clip, and everyone wants to see the boundaries pushed. Roommate isn't the first "real time simulation" game, but it is the most pure, the one fully committed to the bit. Your house is completely mapped out, the girl has her routine, you walk step by painful step through the rooms because this is "real", you are living it. They even use a live photo for the outside of the house to sell the aesthetic (and also save money):

Ryoko is waiting in the kitchen of that house when you come home from work, putting on an apron, ready to cook dinner. For you.

Assuming you get home at whatever fucking 30 minute window the game decided to gatekeep its gameplay behind! But of course I exaggerate - it wasn't that bad (there are little mechanics you can use to set some schedule times in the game for example), player tolerance for bullshit was way higher then, and you were expected to buy strategy guides for these things. So even though it was panned by critics on release...it was a sleeper hit with a devoted fanbase.

Which means it got a ton of sequels and ports! We don't have to go through them all, though I will share my favorite factoid about the first sequel - "ROOMMATE ~Ryoko in Summer Vacation~" from the wiki:

The character designs are significantly different from the previous game (especially Ryoko's brown hair and large breasts).

Priorities, baby. But some of the ports are interesting because of the changing tech. A version was ported to the PlayStation, which does not have the internal clock a Sega Saturn had. But coincidentally it did have the PocketStation, a handheld GameBoy/Tamagotchi hybrid expansion tool that did have an internal clock and could sync with the game. It also let you track Ryoko's schedule and play mini-games, with some very adorable animations as you can see in this ad for the product that featured Roommate:

This device absolutely reminds me of the Disc Fax system discussed in my Miho Nakayama essay - a very niche product biting off more than it can chew making games overly complex to play but allowing things that would otherwise be impossible (and this one was a good deal more successful at least). Here it allowed Roommate's central gimmick to function - and is super cute, honestly I would buy a standalone tamagotchi version of this game.

The PS1 also couldn't quite handle how the game was built for the Sega Saturn graphics-wise, and as such a bunch of the 3D elements were sanded off into 2D simulacrums - most notably the house:

Which, despite this being a technological downgrade, is way better! It looks adorable, you can actually see what is going on and where Ryoko is, and you can navigate it way more cleanly. God, did...hold on let me tab back to the game...yeah, is there no clock in the original game on screen. That is insane. Anyway the PS1 version had a lot of these cute little graphical additions, even right on the title screen:

It is definitely the better looking version, which is a classic tale - in 1997 the "bleeding edge" of 3D graphics were impressive to players, even through their roughness. Now they just aren't, and so the retro charm of designs that are optimized what the mediums of the time could reliably handle have a lot more appeal.

There was also a PC port in 1998, which did exactly what I suggested and added an "adventure" mode where you could ignore the clock system. They definitely learned over time what worked and what didn't; but the appeal of the gimmick is what first sold it to players in the end.

All of this is to say, don't play Roommate, and if you do just emulate the PS1 game instead of torturing yourself with the Sega Saturn version. Oh...you weren't gonna play a Japanese-only abandonware 90's not-even-eroge dating sim to begin with? Ah, well, yeah, I guess that makes sense.

Man I should translate it shouldn't I? So people can play it...

[mostlysignssomeportents]

AI art has no anti-cooption immune system

TONIGHT (July 20), I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

One thing Myspace had going for it: it was exuberantly ugly. The decision to let users with no design training loose on a highly customizable user-interface led to a proliferation of Myspace pages that vibrated with personality.

The ugliness of Myspace wasn't just exciting in a kind of outsider/folk-art way (though it was that). Myspace's ugliness was an anti-cooption force-field, because corporate designers and art-directors would, by and large, rather break their fingers and gouge out their eyes than produce pages that looked like that.

In this regard, Myspace was the heir to successive generations of "design democratization" that gave amateur communities, especially countercultural ones, a space to operate in where authentic community members could be easily distinguished between parasitic commercializers.

The immediate predecessors to Myspace's ugliness-as-a-feature were the web, and desktop publishing. Between the img tag, imagemaps, the blink tag, animated GIFs, and the million ways that you could weird a page with tables and padding, the early web was positively bursting with individual personality. The early web balanced in an equilibrium between the plunder-friendliness of "view source" and the topsy-turvy design imperatives of web-based layout, which confounded both print designers (no fixed fonts! RGB colorspaces! dithering!) and even multimedia designers who'd cut their teeth on Hypercard and CD ROMs (no fixed layout!).

Before the web came desktop publishing, the million tractor-feed ransom notes combining Broderbund Print Shop fonts, joystick-edited pixel-art, and a cohort of enthusiasts ranging from punk zinesters to community newsletter publishers. As this work proliferated on coffee-shop counters and telephone poles, it was visibly, obviously distinct from the work produced by "real" designers – that is, designers who'd been a) trained and b) paid by a corporation to employ that training.

All of this matters, and not just for aesthetic reasons. Communities – especially countercultural ones – are where our society's creative ferment starts. Getting your start in the trenches of the counterculture wars is no proof against being co-opted later (indeed, many of the designers who cut their teeth desktop publishing weird zines went on to pull their hair and roll their eyes at the incredible fuggliness of the web). But without that zone of noncommercial, antiestablishment, communitarian low weirdness, design and culture would stagnate.

I started thinking about this 25 years ago, the first time I met William Gibson. I'd been assigned by the Globe and Mail to interview him for the launch of All Tomorrow's Parties:

https://craphound.com/nonfic/transcript.html

One of the questions I asked was about his famous aphorism, "The street finds its own use for things." Given how quickly each post-punk tendency had been absorbed by commercial culture, couldn't we say that "Madison Avenue finds its own use for the street"? His answer started me down a quarter-century of thinking and writing about this subject:

I worry about what we'll do in the future, [about the instantaneous co-opting of pop culture]. Where is our new stuff going to come from? What we're doing pop culturally is like burning the rain forest. The biodiversity of pop culture is really, really in danger. I didn't see it coming until a few years ago, but looking back it's very apparent.

I watch a sort of primitive form of the recommodification machine around my friends and myself in sixties, and it took about two years for this clumsy mechanism to get and try to sell us The Monkees.

In 1977, it took about eight months for a slightly faster more refined mechanism to put punk in the window of Holt Renfrew. It's gotten faster ever since. The scene in Seattle that Nirvana came from: as soon as it had a label, it was on the runways of Paris.

Ugliness, transgressiveness and shock all represent an incoherent, grasping attempt to keep the world out of your demimonde – not just normies and squares, but also and especially enthusiastic marketers who want to figure out how to sell stuff to you, and use you to sell stuff to normies and squares.

I think this is what drove a lot of people to 4chan (remember, before 4chan was famous for incubating neofascism, it was the birthplace of Anonymous): its shock culture, combined with a strong cultural norm of anonymity, made for a difficult-to-digest, thoroughly spiky morsel that resisted recommodification (for a while).

All of this brings me to AI art (or AI "art"). In his essay on the "eerieness" of AI art, Henry Farrell quotes Mark Fisher's "The Weird and the Eerie":

https://www.programmablemutter.com/p/large-language-models-are-uncanny

"Eeriness" here is defined as "when there is something present where there should be nothing, or is there is nothing present when there should be something." AI is eerie because it produces the seeming of intent, without any intender:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/13/spooky-action-at-a-close-up/#invisible-hand

When we contemplate "authentic" countercultural work – ransom-note DTP, the weird old web, seizure-inducing Myspace GIFs – it is arresting because the personality of the human entity responsible for it shines through. We might be able to recognize where that person ganked their source-viewed HTML or pixel-optimized GIF, but we can also make inferences about the emotional meaning of those choices. To see that work is to connect to a mind. That mind might not necessarily belong to someone you want to be friends with or ever meet in person, but it is unmistakably another person, and you can't help but learn something about yourself from the way that their work makes you feel.

This is why corporate work is so often called "soulless." The point of corporate art is to dress the artificial person of the corporation in the stolen skins of the humans it uses as its substrate. Corporations are potentially immortal, artificial colony organisms. They maintain the pretense of personality, but they have no mind, only action that is the crescendo of an orchestra of improvised instruments played by hundreds or thousands of employees and a handful of executives who are often working directly against one another:

https://locusmag.com/2022/03/cory-doctorow-vertically-challenged/

The corporation is – as Charlie Stross has it – the "slow AI" that is slowly converting our planet to the long-prophesied grey goo (or, more prosaically, wildfire ashes and boiled oceans). The real thing that is signified by CEOs' professed fears of runaway AI is runaway corporations. As Ted Chiang says, the experience of being nominally in charge of a corporation that refuses to do what you tell it to is the kind of thing that will give you nightmares about autonomous AI turning on its masters:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/09/autocomplete-worshippers/#the-real-ai-was-the-corporations-that-we-fought-along-the-way

The job of corporate designers is to find the signifiers of authenticity and dress up the corporate entity's robotic imperatives in this stolen flesh. Everything about AI is done in service to this goal: the chatbots that replace customer service reps are meant to both perfectly mimic a real, competent corporate representative while also hewing perfectly to corporate policy, without ever betraying the real human frailties that none of us can escape.

In the same way, the shillbots that pretend to be corporate superfans online are supposed to perfectly amplify the corporate message, the slow AI's conception of its own virtues, without injecting their own off-script, potentially cringey enthusiasms.

The Hollywood writers' strike was, at root, about the studio execs' dream that they could convert the "insights" of focus groups and audience research into a perfect script, without having to go through a phalanx of lippy screenwriters who insisted on explaining why they think your idea is stupid. "Hey, nerd, make me another ET, except make the hero a dog, and set it on Mars" is exactly how you prompt an AI:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/20/everything-made-by-an-ai-is-in-the-public-domain/

Corporate design's job is to produce the seeming of intention without any intender. The "personality" we're meant to sense when we encounter corporate design isn't the designer's, nor the art director's, nor even the CEO's. The "personality" is meant to be the slow AI's, but a corporation doesn't have a personality.

In his 2018 short story "Noon in the antilibrary," Karl Schroeder describes an "antilibrary" as an endlessly deep anaerobic lagoon of generative botshit:

https://www.technologyreview.com/2018/08/18/104097/noon-in-the-antilibrary/

The antilibrary is a generative AI system that can produce entire librarys’-worth of fake books with fake authors, fake citations by other fake experts with their own fake books and biographies and fake social media accounts, on-demand and instantly. It was speculation in 2018; it’s possible now. Creating an antilibrary is just a matter of investing in a sufficient number of graphics cards and electricity.

https://kschroeder.substack.com/p/after-the-internet

Reading Karl's reflections on the antilibrary crystallized something for me that I've been thinking about for a quarter-century, since I interviewed Gibson at the Penguin offices in north Toronto. It snapped something into place that I've trying to fit since encountering Henry's thoughts on the "eeriness" of AI work and the intent without an intender.

It made me realize why I dislike AI art so much, on a deep, aesthetic level. The point of an image generator is to buffer the intention of the prompter (which might be genuinely creative and bursting with personality) in layers of automated decision-making that flense the final product of any hint of the mind that caused its creation.

The most febrile, deeply weird and authentic prompts of the most excluded outsiders produce images that feel the same as the corporate AI illustrations that project the illusion of personality from the immortal, transhuman colony organism that is the limited liability corporation.

AI art is born coopted. Even the 4chan equivalent of AI – the deeply transgressive and immoral nonconsensual pornography – feels no different from the "official" AI porn churned out by "real" pornographers. "Shrimp Jesus" and other SEO-optimized Facebook slop is so uncanny because it is simultaneously "weird" ("that which does not belong") and yet it belongs in the same aesthetic bucket of the most anodyne Corporate Memphis ephemera:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corporate_Memphis

We call it "generative" but AI art can't generate the kind of turnover that aerates the aesthetic soil. An artform that can't be transgressive is sterile, stillborn, a dead end.

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/20/ransom-note-force-field/#antilibraries

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

--

Jake (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:1970s_fanzines_(21224199545).jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

[blurd-blue]

⚠️! Major Sonic Movie 3 Spoilers Ahead !⚠️

MY BABY BOY!!!!

And Amy too!

All jokes aside, I just got finished watching Sonic 3, and here's my honest review.

I loved this movie, It was an all around fun time with Amazing action scenes, Gorgeous visuals, and an unsurprisingly compelling story.

Shadow was of course a huge highlight of this film for me, And Keanu did just as amazingly as I expected him to. What I didn't expect was Jim Carry to surprise me as much as he did, Gerald was a surprisingly Compelling villain, It was Lowkey menacing at times, and really felt like a threat, Though when he wasn't doing that he was being Jim Carry and that kind of Bumped down his intimidation factor, though not by much.

I had to stop myself from jumping out of my seat every time Live and Learn played, even though I knew I'd be in the movie it still Delighted me every time it showed up.

As everyone hoped, the human characters were kept to a minimum and I feel the time they were on screen was used well, And they honestly got me with Tom's injury, I really thought they'd kill him off for a minute.

I was not expecting how much They'd use the super forms, as they were in them for pretty much the whole third act. Sonic and Shadow's fight was Honestly stunning, but also a bit haunting seeing Sonic essentially go full Fleetway on Shadow during it.

They killed off the Olive Garden guy, that honestly made me a little sad.

And as made clear before, I was overjoyed to see my darling baby boy Metal Sonic—and Amy—at the end, and I can't wait to see what they do in the fourth movie. They can either go with a Plot inspired by Sonic CD or by the looks of the Post credits scene, Sonic Heroes. Though likely they'll do a mix of both.

All in all, I loved the movie, and will be watching it 5011,000 more times.

Also that Scene of Sonic and Shadow on the moon watching the Sunrise was Gay as Shit!

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Screenward Bound

Pairing: Twilight x Reader

Warning(s): Eventual smut and mild yandere behavior

Notes: Written for my 200 Follower Event!

Main Masterlist | Fic Masterlist | Next Chapter

You weren't quite sure what compelled you to visit the garage sale on the corner of 4th and Shirestone.

The lot was small and the yellow house inhabiting it was large, leaving very little space for the several tables of stuff in the miniscule front yard, meaning they spilled out onto the bordering sidewalk like an invasion of dusty books and even dustier boxes, which was probably what drew you to the sale in the first place.

"Do you have any Uncle Kracker?" You half-heartedly asked the old lady running the operation, idly thumbing through the CDs.

"Uncle who?" She raised a brow.

"Nevermind," you sighed, giving her a short once over before returning to your unenthusiastic perusal. You lived a few blocks away, tucked in the corner of a nearby cul-de-sac, but living alone was boring and your wallet had been crying to be drained after recovering from your car being in the shop for a few weeks. Besides, it wasn't like you couldn't drop a few dollars to pick up a half-decent CD for the radio, especially since people had a habit of dumping their unwanted shit on the side of the road.

With a huff, you flicked through the last row of CDs, all artists that you were either too old or too young to like. Sure, the Pat Benatar one was calling your name, but you already had a few of her songs on other CDs.

Just as you were about to go home and watch a couple hundred reruns of Family Feud while eating enough ice cream to make your doctor cringe, your eye caught another table, this one filled with an assortment of video games. You weren't the biggest gamer, but you had enough of a collection to put any normal ten-year-old to shame.

"You've got games?" You asked, moving past the one-armed mannequin to assess the selection.

"Do I ever," the old woman shook her head, sending a few snow-swept whisps of hair flying from the confines of her satin headband. "They belonged to my son, but the little rat couldn't keep it that way when he moved out."

You managed a sympathetic chuckle, pulling your coat a bit tighter around yourself. There was a chill in the air, despite it being sunny outside. Your fingers felt a bit numb as you flicked through the cases. Final Fantasy, Digimon, Mario Kart...

You paused as your gaze passed over a very familiar title.

"Woah, Twilight Princess?" You lifted the case, marveling at the find. It was a bit dusty, and the cover art looked like it had seen better, less faded days, but it was nonetheless a great discovery. You had always wanted to play it until school got in the way, but now...

"Oh, yeah," the old woman leaned in a bit too close for comfort, tapping a knobby finger on the plastic. You could smell her flowery perfume and the lingering scent of coffee grounds as she spoke. "This was one of my son's favorites... too bad he could never get it to cooperate."

"How so?" You asked, taking a step to the right to create a bit of distance.

She shrugged. "It worked great at first, but the controls were always a bit glitchy for his tastes. He said it was like something else was trying to take control," her tone turned conspiratorial, faded blue eyes glinting in the sunlight. "but I think he was just making excuses to get a new controller for Christmas."

This time, you laughed loudly. "Yeah, they'll do that," you glanced at the game and back at her. "How much? I've got a ten in my wallet, but I can get more if needed."

The old woman waved a hand, dismissing your words with a smile. "That won't be necessary, I should be paying you for taking this junk off my hands. Take it for free."

You opened your mouth to protest, but she sent you a stern glare and you didn't have the courage to square up with someone who didn't have any personal space awareness and looked like she could break your back over her knee. 'Thank you," you ducked your head respectfully, slipping the game into your bag and beginning the trek home. The sun was beginning to set, and you didn't want to get caught in the dark. You waved, calling over your shoulder: "Have a nice day. Stay warm!"

The woman waved back. "You too, dear! Don't let the bedbugs bite!"

You chuckled, boots crunching on the pavement as you set an easy pace, one hand slipping into your bag to feel over the faded plastic surface of your new game.

If there was any truth to the old lady's words about the game being glitchy, it didn't show.

After booting your ancient Wii-U up, you plugged the game in without hesitation, grinning when it started up with nary a twitch. The title screen looked exactly as it should have, a very familiar song emanating from your dusty speakers. It was perfect, and you almost felt bad taking it for free.

Until you tried to select 'new game' and the screen stalled, fizzling back to the menu as if you hadn't done anything at all. "What the hell?" you muttered, attempting the action once more, only to be booted back to the title screen for the second time. "Oh my god, are you serious?"

You weren't really mad, because your expectations hadn't been that high, but you hadn't expected problems before you even began playing. The 'start' button glimmered promisingly, and you reluctantly selected it.

The screen flashed, and the game started. You gaped, nearly dropping the controller in surprise. "Oh, hell yeah," you grinned, mood lifting slightly at the progress. You had already seen several gameplays, so starting later didn't bother you as much as it should have. "Now we're talking."

Link was distinctly aware of the moment his world inexplicably shifted, falling into the soft hands of another. It was as if they were meant to hold his life in their palms, smooth fingertips caressing the edges of his pixelated consciousness, shrouded by colors and numbers and a thin sheen of fantastical insanity.

There was a voice, lighter than the one of his previous guide: the gamer without sense. Link was forgiving, it was practically in his nature, but he could only take so many instances of the kind of crass, harsh language that man had employed, especially when he addressed the dreaded "chat"--whatever evil that was.

"Let's get classic," the voice spoke, tone heavy with excitement, and the world reformed before his very eyes, swirling with the familiar colors and textures that he remembered, though they seemed... brighter, somehow. It was a new start, Link realized. A new play at the game. A new life to destroy. To shape.

Ordon Spring was exactly as he remembered; a clear, rippling pool, fed by the gentle waterfall in the back of the spring, flanked by thick, verdant brush and preceded by a wonderful, sandy bank. Home, he thought.

"I hope the old lady wasn't right," said the voice, sounding a bit mournful as it caressed the tip of his pointed ear. "I'd hate to have to get rid of you... I've been looking for you for ages."

Link felt his body stiffen, the belts crisscrossing his chest feeling more suffocating that normal. You must have heard about his 'resistance' towards the previous owner, who quite deserved it after attempting to make him toss the village dogs off of various high places and herd the children into frankly dangerous areas. Hylia, he hoped you weren't like that. He didn't think he could handle that again.

"Alright, let's go save a princess," your cheer hung heavy in his mind, and Link allowed himself a small, pixelated smile.

He could work with this.

Dear lord I'm so glad this is finally out! It fought me tooth and nail, but I hope it's still up to standard <33

[lizthewriter]

red wine supernova / regina george

SUMMARY  regina george has made you the new victim of her attention. it's a different kind of attention than you expected from her.

QUOTE  "she was a playboy, bridgette bardot, / she showed me things i didn't know, / she did it right there, out on the deck, / put her canine teeth in the side of my neck," - red wine supernova by chappell roan

WORD COUNT  1.1K

WRITTEN  6.3.2024

you've always been introverted and shy - some people were loud, rambunctious, easily likeable. easily sociable. it had never been that easy for you - anxiety rumbling at the bottom of your stomach every time you spoke to someone new, hands trembling and voice stuttering as you spoke in front of the class. it didn't help when others began to tease you for it - it only made you more reclusive.

but then, she noticed you. everyone knew who she was. regina george. queen bee of the mean girls, the plastics, the fake and bake's, whatever people liked to call them these days. and believe me, no one wanted to be noticed by regina george, not the way she noticed you.

it started out as small, targeted comments in the lunch line. on your clothes, on the foos you ate, on the way you did your hair. cute, girly tips hidden behind the pretentiousness of a pig with lip glass. okay, perhaps that was taking things way too far. she was gorgeous and she wasn't completely terrible. you just couldn't figure out why you were so special to be one of the few victims of her attention and insults.

but now she was making it obvious to everyone that she had taken some odd liking to you. swinging her arm around your shoulder and calling you pet, playing with your hair and giving you beauty tips with thinly veiled conceit, things like that.

you tried to stay away from her as much as possible, but unfortunately that was impossible. world history and of course, for your final project, you abaolutely had to be thrown with her.

regina plopped down in the seat next to you as people scattered across the room to find their project partner. aaron was sitting practically next to her, but she wasn't even watching him. she seemed to give all her attention to you lately. "hey babes, looks like we're stuck together."

you laughed nervously. "yeah, looks that way," you responded in a small tone, staring down at your notes. "so i was thinking, i'm very educated in world war two discourse, i was hoping we could do our project on -"

"you know, you should totally come over my house this weekend." most of your classmates around you froze and glanced towards regina. she never invited anyone but the plastics at her house. "i can show you how to do makeup - i'll even let you borrow my lip gloss."

"you never let me borrow your lip -"

"oh my god, will you stop taking things so personally gretchen?" regina responded, not even turning around in her chair to face gretchen, who was sitting behind her. regina gestured to gretchen and rolled her eyes, finally returning all her attention to you. she grabbed your hand and started to trial her fingernail around your hand in circles. "what do you say, pet?"

"umm, i'll bring my notebook so we can work too," you responded in an uncertain tone.

"great!"

-

"and don't worry girls, if you want to have a party, i still have all of my old nas cd's downstairs!" regina'a mother exclaimed as she left the room. you and regina were situated on her bed, sitting rather close to one another. as you reached to pull your notebook out of your bag, regina pushed your hand back down so that your notebook was firmly back in it's place.

"don't be a bore, let's have some fun first," regina responded with a roll of her eyes, popping her lollipop back in her mouth. she grabbed you by the arm and hauled you all the way over to her vanity, turning on the lighting and grabbing all the possible makeup in sight. "we are giving you a makeover."

she grinned at you, and in that moment you couldn't tell if it was genuine or not. you decided to go along, for the sake of it - why upset her now? she could have her fun with you and then you could go back to working on your project. "all right, i guess."

she started to pull out all sorts of makeup application devices you either recognized and didn't use or had never seen at all. she tapped her phone and punk rock music began to blare through the speakers in her room - you found yourself suprised at her music taste but said nothing, only tapping your feet along to the beat.

she began by brushing your hair and pulling it back with a headband, giving her free reign to do whatever she wanted to your face. she started out with skincare, washing your face and applying a face mask.

"so, what do you like to do in your free time, or whatever?" regina asked you in a bored tone, though her eyes seemed rather interested as she looked down at you. enamored, almost, but that must have been a trick of the light.

you started to name a few hobbies but before you knew it, the two of you were deep into conversation about various different things and surprisingly, as she did your makeup, you found yourself opening up to her, becoming louder and louder, while she somehow became more dormant - less mean and commanding and more, understanding and listening.

"okay, take a look!"

you turned around and faced yourself in the mirror. you smiled widely as you felt rather pretty, wearing the makeup regina had put on you, sparkly yellow eyeshadow and pink mascara. you saw regina biting her bottom lip as she looked at you in the mirror - suddenly you felt shy again and felt a blush fall over your cheeks.

"how do you like it?" regina asked as she turned you to face her.

"i feel really pretty . . . thanks," you mumbled shyly, staring down at your feet

"you are really pretty," she told you in a low tone, placing her finger under your chin and raising your head so you met her eyes. "you're so fucking dumb, how long will it take you to realize i like you, pet?"

she laughed at your confounded expression. you felt your face turn a tomato red and you buried your face in your hands, feeling embarrassed. "i thought you were making fun of me!" you exclaimed between your fingers.

"i was endearingly teasing you, or whatever," regina said in a defensive tone, though she was still falling over laughing at your expression.

"this isn't a prank, right?"

"of course not! now let's finish this dumb project so i can take you out on a date, hoe."

[ranhaitanisgf]

1:23 p.m - rindou haitani [gn]

masterlist

"rindou! let's go out!" you exclaimed, bursting into his room wholly unannounced. "come with me to get some cd's!"

rindou's eyes flicked up to look at you, your surprise entrance not seeming to phase him at all. he didn't seem to be doing all that much, a book with its pages open tossed next to him as he took a sip from his can of beer, setting it down on the nightstand as he scrutinized you.

"you suddenly want to get more cd's? why do you need more?" you scoffed at his question, walking over to sit on the edge of his bed.

"that's like me asking you why you need more beer when that's already your third can today, but you don't hear me asking that. who doesn't need more cd's?"

"my motorbike can't play cd's though."

"well good thing i have a car and not a motorbike then, don't you think?" seeing his unamused expression, you flopped onto your back, looking at him upside down. "c'monnn, rindou! you're supposed to want to go out with me, y'know?"

"i'm busy relaxing."

"but you've been busy relaxing all weekend! don't you want to get some fresh air?"

"not really."

"hmph." you frowned, sitting up from your spot on his bed and getting up. "fine then, you can stay here and be all alone and drink your beer all alone and be emo. i'll be going to the cd store by myself."

rindou seemed hesitant as you began to exit his room, but he didn't end up saying anything, which admittedly made you a bit sad. were you seriously bothering him so much that he needed a break from you for so long?

it isn't until you're heading out of the apartment that you hear footsteps behind, too caught up in your thoughts to realize that a certain someone had gotten ready and was now quietly following you to the cd store.

your heart leaped as you almost started to beam, but you instead frowned and kept walking, feigning anger at him. you deserved to get him back for being so reluctant to go out with after all!

"...i thought you were too busy relaxing." rindou began to match your pace, now walking side by side with you as he hesitantly slipped his hand into yours.

"i wasn't busy." he murmured, eyes looking forward and avoiding your gaze.

"hm, that's crazy, since i seem to remember you saying exactly that." he didn't respond for a few moments, instead using his other hand to rummage around in his coat pocket. after a moment, he pulled out a gift-wrapped square, his ears turning a bit pink as he handed it to you.

"...i already bought your valentine's day gift, so i didn't want you to buy it for yourself, stupid."

you stopped walking as you gaped at him, looking at his flushed expression, down to the gift in his hand, then back to him.

"woah...seriously?"

"no, i'm lying." he deadpanned, rolling his eyes, (he was somehow able to keep his sarcasm despite his face being flushed). "just open it." he urged, taking his hand out of yours and wrapping your hand around the gift.

you began to open it, feeling a bit sad that you were ripping the gift wrapping that he worked on, (even though it wasn't perfect, you could tell how much effort he put into it). when you saw the cover of the cd that was uncovered, you couldn't hold back the giant smile that stretched across your face.

"rindou!! how did you even get this?! it's super limited edition!!!"

he just shrugged, though it was obvious from the smug smirk on his face that he was feeling very pleased with himself. however, it was quickly wiped off and replaced with surprise when you suddenly kissed him, the look of surprise still on his face when you pulled away.

"thank you! i do still want to go to the cd store though, so-"

"yeah, let's just go." he interrupted, taking your hand again and leading you to the elevator to go to the bottom floor of your apartment building. you could only laugh a bit to yourself at his red ears and flushed cheeks, deciding to not tease him about it for now.

...or maybe just a little bit is alright.

as you two stepped into the elevator, you slipped the gift into an inside pocket of your jacket, freeing up your hand to suddenly pinch rindou's cheek.

"what-"

"you look so cute when you're blushing like that."

"what-"

"mm, so cute..."

made this w/ the cd as an early valentines day gift in mind :3 sry for not posting ahhh im trying to get into a good balance of school work and tumblr, ty for being patient w/ me ! <3

[coke-whore]

Hello! So I saw that your doing request so I was wondering if you could do a Billy loomis x fem reader fluff? I've been wanting fluff so you could do whatever you like! ♡♡ thank you if you do this♡♡♡

yeah ofc!! love ur pfp btw

Kissing and Dancing- Billy Loomis

𝜗𝜚 - billy loomis x fem!reader

𝜗𝜚 - fluff

𝜗𝜚 - just your standard make out session

ღ - a/n: billy loomis fluff is so rare to find but this was so fun to write

You blew the cigarette smoke from your lips as you continued to tease your hair in the vanity mirror. Yes, you took health so obviously you got that whole 'smoking will kill you' lecture-cheesy video and all- but fuck you if it wasn't amazing. The way the minty feeling rolled down your throat as the bitter aftertaste stayed on your tongue, the feeling of the nicotine flowing to your brain. It was exhilarating. And hey at least it's not weed which you also smoke duh which is what you tell yourself whenever your boyfriend tells you to quit.

Your boyfriend, the Billy Loomis. Your wonderful, loving, caring, horror movie loving boyfriend. You'd think he was Randy with how much he talked about them, for a jock he was such a fucking nerd. Oh, but you loved the way his face lit up whenever he talked about them, that glint in his eyes as his lips upturned into a small smile.

Should you be concerned? Probably. But why would you ever accuse someone so sweet of being a psychopath? No, not your Billy, not the boy who comforts you whenever you're down, the person that knows exactly what to do to cheer you up. You subconsciously started to smile the more you thought about him not even noticing the figure starting to climb in through your window.

His hands grab your waist causing you to let out a yelp before meeting his eyes in the mirror. "Billy what are you doing here?" you giggle as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. "mhh nothin' just wanted to see ya' dollface" he mumbles into your neck, and you swore you could feel the smirk he had on his face. You smiled and scoffed "If my dad finds out you're in here he'll go all psycho killer on your ass" to which he just chuckled and started pressing light feather kisses along your neck before moving up to your lips.

"So you want me to leave then" he pouts looking at you with a kicked puppy expression. He hummed and let go of you and flopped down onto your bed. Raising an eyebrow at him, you walked over until you were between his legs. "And who said you could stay?" the brunette looked up as if in thought before looking at you with a grin, flashing his pearly whites "I did- you wouldn't kick out your poor boyfriend would you now?"

God the power he held over you. He could probably asl for anything and you would say yes without hesitation. Hell, you would kill for him. No questions asked.

Love makes you do crazy things.

"- to set the mood" wait what. "Sorry what? I zoned out" the boy chuckled "Yeah I figured. I said how 'bout some music to set the mood"

"Right- right, yeah of course hold on" you said as you swiftly turned your back on him to dig through your pile of CDs. You flipped through the various labeled plastic objects, a few catching your eye until you settled on 'Dead or Alive'. Billy took a look at it before clicking his tongue, "Not very romantic, is it?" You rolled your eyes and popped the disc into your CD player, bopping your head to the beat as you plopped onto the bed next to your boyfriend.

After a bit you noticed that Billy seemed to be staring at you, and you turned your head to meet his gaze. His chocolate brown eyes stared into yours as he slowly leaned in before his lips grazed yours. You could feel his breath tingling against your face in anticipation as he cupped your cheek with one hand, the other sliding down your torso before settling on your waist.

Your eyes fluttered shut as his soft lips met yours in a breath-taking kiss. His lips left yours with a 'tch' sound before he laid above you to initiate another. You melted into his touch as his tongue ran across your bottom lip as if asking for entry. You complied of course, parting your now swollen lips for him to which he immediately takes advantage of, slipping his tongue into your mouth. His tongue dances with yours as the hand that was resting on your waist moves lower and lower until it's bunched up your night gown.

You separate from him to catch your breath as he did the same while watching your chest heave up and down. He couldn't help but grin and started attacking your face with small peck making you giggle.

He stood up off the bed and took your hand, pulling you flush against his body as you both swayed to the rhythm of the song together. He spun you around once it got to the 'You spin me right 'round, baby, right 'round-Like a record, baby, right 'round, 'round, 'round' bit.

He was everything you had ever wanted. And you were everything he never had. He was yours, and you were his. It was like an unspoken agreement you both had, just two teenagers so full of love- no idea of what the outside world held- both of you in your own little world.

After your little dance session ended, you both crawled under the covers together now completely ignoring the fact your father was downstairs. "I love you baby" the brown-haired boy smiled as he looked down at you snuggling into his chest. "I love you too."

You fell asleep in Billy's arms feeling safe and loved, feeling as though nothing could ever tear the two of you apart.

If only you could hear the sirens heading towards Casey Becker's house.

[shemybitchhh]

𝕀 𝔾𝕠𝕥 𝕐𝕠𝕦☆

HEADCANONS of you taking care of injured Ellie.

<<Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader>>

☆Ellie, who the first time you two would talk, she would have a rather serious wound on her side. You, being the daughter of one of Jackson's doctors, were always interested in medicine and learned quickly from your father. "What happened?" You asked her, worried as you saw her clutching the side of her muscle shirt that had a huge red stain on it. "Nothing, mind your business." She told you coldly but you stopped her by grabbing her shoulder. "Aren't you going to go to the infirmary?" You asked and Ellie turned her head to look at you angrily. "You don't care what I do." You bit your lip, still worried. "If you don't let some nurse take care of you, at least let me do it."

☆Ellie, who from that day on would notice your presence in every place she went, and when she didn't see you she would look for you until she found you, without knowing why she needed to keep you in her sights.

☆Ellie, who would find you one day treating the wound of a little boy who was crying because of a scrape on his knee. "Shhh, easy little one. Everything's okay." You assured him as you gently disinfected the wound with a cotton ball. "That's it. You're very brave." You told him, making the boy smile a little. Ellie felt her heart warm when she saw that scene.

☆Ellie, who wouldn't know how to start a conversation with you so she would pretend to get hurt just to have an excuse.

☆Ellie, who would start asking you anything no matter how stupid it was just to hear your voice. "So, do you swab the wound with alcohol before bandaging it?" "What's worse, a knife or gun wound?" "Can I drink booze after antibiotics?"

☆Ellie, who would look for supplies during her patrols to surprise you. "Where did you get these?" You asked, looking in surprise at the empty blood bags and clean gauze she had gotten. "They were inside an ambulance a short distance from our checkpoint. Nothing out of the ordinary." She said downplaying it, when in reality she had entered an abandoned hospital full of clickers and runners completly alone, just to get them for you.

☆Ellie, who would invite you over to her room for the first time and you would end up reading her comics together.

☆Ellie, who would ask you what your favorite band is and a few days later a CD of it would appear on your doorstep. She would never take credit for it, although it wouldn't be too difficult to guess.

☆Ellie, who would invite you to have lunch with her in the dining room, after seeing that you were too shy to sit next to anyone besides your dad.

☆Ellie, who would stare into your eyes while you told her the plot of your favorite book. She wasn't listening to a single word that came out of your mouth. Her mind was lost in the vibrant and full of life color of your gems.

☆Ellie, who would tell you her stupid jokes just to hear your laugh.

☆Ellie, who would ask you to teach her first aid so she could take care of herself. Although she would never apply the theory since she preferred to go with you and have you take care of her.

☆Ellie, who would arrive from a patrol almost fainting from the number of infected she had to kill, and you would run up to her so that she could lean against you. "Shhh, easy, I got you." You whispered to her before she passed out.

☆Ellie, who would wake up exalted on the stretcher in the infirmary and the first person she would look for would be you. She would see that it was your father standing next to her, taking her pulse, and she would instantly be embarrassed. "I'll tell her you're awake and to come see you." Your father said with a kind smile, without Ellie having to say anything.

☆Ellie, who would accept your hug without second's hesitation after you ran in to check on her.

☆Ellie, who would start spending some nights at your house, listening to music, talking about irrelevant topics to pass the time, and sometimes even cooking with you.

☆Ellie, who would stare at your lips while you chewed the chocolate she had brought you as a gift. "Want some?" You asked, extending your hand with a generous piece.

☆Ellie, who would act without thinking and would pull you towards her by your outstretched wrist and kiss you, tasting your chocolate-flavored lips.

☆Ellie, who couldn't stop telling you how beautiful you are, loving how you looked away with an involuntary blush.

☆Ellie, who would promise to take care of you from everything, just like you took care of her when she got hurt on her patrols.

☆Ellie, who would hug you from behind with her folded hands after you disinfected her knuckles for the thousandth time, and would fall asleep smelling your scent and pressing you against her.

☆Ellie, who would let you know how important you are to her. "I got you, love."

[dreamescapeswriting]

Stray Kids Reaction || Your First Kiss [Mafia]

Skz!Mafia x GN!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - January 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

Hope that this was alright for you my love! @bxcketbarnes

CHAN:

It was the first date and it was safe to say that it had gone extremely well for you, at least you'd thought so at the time but as you got closer to your front door and Chan still hadn't kissed you you were beginning to have your doubts. Did he not feel the same sparks that you had felt? Maybe it was all one-sided and he didn't want you anymore. Worries were bubbling up faster as you reached your front door and you unlocked it.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" You questioned, not wanting this to be the last time you ever saw him. Chan's eyes met yours and he nodded with a small smile on his face, his palms sweating profusely as he anxiously watched you. He'd been debating kissing you all night long but he was worried that it would be too fast or maybe that it wasn't the most gentleman-like thing for him to do.

"I'll bring that CD I was talking about," He smiled and you stared at him, neither of you moving away from one another until you finally had enough and kissed him softly. Your hands rested gently on his chest as he stood completely stunned, not kissing you back as your heart sunk a little.

"I-I'm sorry, I thought- Never mind." Your hands jumbled to try and open your front door, trying to get away from Chan as quickly as you could but your efforts were stopped as he placed his hand on top of yours.

"I was shocked, please..." He whispered before turning you around in his arms and gently kissing you. Your lips moved in perfect sync with one another, your hands resting on his chest so you could feel just how hard his heart was racing. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, Yn." He smirked a little before you felt your whole body heating up and you headed inside to let out a small squeal of excitement. 

MINHO:

Six dates. You'd been on a total of six dates and Minho had yet to even make a move on you besides holding your hand. You were starting to think maybe he didn't like you the way that you'd thought and this was just him looking for a friend. Then the overthinking began to kick in and you worried that you had bad breath, leading you to invest in so much chewing gum and mints you could have owned half of the company by now. 

"Is there something wrong with me?" You yelled out as Minho reached his car and you were still standing at your front door watching him leave. Maybe it was rude to yell and a little embarrassing but you were starting to agonise that he was never going to kiss you at this rate.

"What?" He chuckled turning to look at you and frowning when he saw how upset you looked, Minho would move the heavens and the Earth to make sure you'd never be upset and knowing he was the cause of that frightened him.

"You haven't kissed me, do I have bad breath? Do you not like me that way? Because I thought we were dating." You realised how this must have sounded and you were starting to regret opening your mouth as Minho walked closer to you.

"I've been...a little nervous," He admitted, it wasn't easy for him to admit to being scared of something. He was a mafia prince for Christ's sake and he was scared of kissing the person he was dating? It wasn't like him at all. 

"You? I didn't think nervous was even in your vocabulary," You joked as he smirked, stepping into your personal space and looking down at you.

"Only ever since I met you," He whispered before you closed the distance between you and kissed him, your heart thumping rapidly as you kissed him gently. There was something intense about it even though it was a gentle kiss, something laying beneath the surface that made you want more.

"Come inside for a hot drink," You suggested, biting your bottom lip and playing with his tie as his cheeks flamed and he nodded at you.

CHANGBIN:

You'd been ranting to your friend about wanting to kiss Changbin for almost a week now, the two of you had been on almost seven dates and he'd not kissed you yet which was a little upsetting. But tonight, you were going to be the one to make the move. It was New Year's eve and you'd been invited to a huge party that he was throwing, a black tie event which was exciting and nerve wracking all at the same time. 

"Happy New Year everyone!" Changbin finished his speech into the microphone and made his way over to you as the one-minute countdown began on the huge screens in his office building. You nervously played with the bracelet he'd gotten you for Christmas and stared at him as he made his way toward you.

"Any goals for the new year, Mr Seo?" You teased as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him, his eyes staring into your soul as he smiled to himself.

"To keep you in my life as long as possible Mx Yln." Your body heated up as you heard the countdown begin to drop to single digits, it was now or never. Your mind began to run through everything that could go wrong with you kissing him, what if he didn't want to kiss you yet? What if your breath reeked of the garlic balls you'd been eating?

"three...two...one-" Everyone's yells and your own racing thoughts were drowned out when you felt his lips on yours, the glass that you were holding slipped to the floor but neither of you pulled away at the sound of it shattering. You kissed him back, deeply falling into a deep make-out session as people around you stared in awe. It had been a while since Changbin had found anyone to share his life with and they were thankful he had you.

HYUNJIN:

"Not bad for a third date," Hyunjin winks as he looks at you, you'd been stunned the whole time you'd been with Hyunjin tonight. After your last date, he'd been working hard to get this one perfect for you, not that the others hadn't been perfect but this was something he wanted to be extra special. You'd mentioned in passing how much you'd been wanting to go to the botanical gardens at night time to see the stars under the skylight but there was never an option so he made it one.

The two of you had the whole place to yourselves - and two of Hyunjin's guards but they kept a respectful distance between you all.

"Not bad? Hyunjin this is beautiful," You whispered as you sat down on the blanket that was laid out for you, surrounded by pillows so that the two of you could look up at the sky and be comfortable.

"It really is," He whispered, only he was staring at you instead of the view making your body heat as he sat down beside you, smiling.

"You like this?" He had to admit he was a little worried it was a step down from all of the other extravagant dates but you seemed to enjoy this one a lot more than the others.

"I love this," You whispered before kissing him softly on the lips without thinking. The two of you froze for a second, neither of you moving to pull away nor to deepen the kiss that you were sharing until a beat passed and Hyunjin wrapped his arm gently around you and pulled you closer to him. The kiss deepened as he laid you on top of him and relaxed against the pillows with you, both of you laughing softly against one another's lips as you made out under the stars.

JISUNG:

All night long Jisung had been nervous and you could tell because he was bouncing his leg up and down the whole time you'd been watching the ballet not to mention the gum he was chewing at excessive amounts and beads of sweat were on his forehead.

"Do you have somewhere else you need to be?" You asked as you stepped into the lobby of the theatre, looking at him with a frown on your forehead. If he needed to be somewhere else he could have just been honest with you and said so in the first place.

"No...N-No, No I'm good." The way he stumbled over his words made you frown even more, was he bored of you now? Was he going to make this the last date?

"If you don't want to see me anymore you can just say that...I'd rather you didn't play on my feelings." Jisung stared at you in shock,

"What? Why would you think that?" The nerves slipped away within seconds as he stared at you. The last thing he would ever want is for you to feel as though you aren't wanted, he'd been so nervous about kissing you that he forgot how all of this might have looked to you.

"You've been skittish all night, you look like you'd rather be anywhere else than here and you...you haven't kissed me," You mumbled the last part, suddenly feeling like a kid in school when your crush wouldn't like you back but you were scared that this was all in your head and you were reading his signs wrong.

"Yn." He started but you shook your head, holding up your hand as you cut him off,

"I can take it if you don't like me but I won't be played for a fool if you're toying with me." Suddenly your lips were against his in a heated kiss, something you'd read about in books where fireworks exploded and you were left with a shortness of breath. God, you could have sworn your leg was lifted up,

"I like you a lot, Yn. I've been too nervous to kiss you and tonight I was going to do it..."

"Hence the gum and the bouncing leg." You laughed a little as you stared at him, your eyes shining like diamonds as he leaned down and kissed you once again.

FELIX:

As fourth date went you were pretty happy with this, more than happy but right now Felix seemed to be terrified which you didn't think was possible. Felix was someone you never thought would be scared of anything, not even bullets.

"You okay?" You quizzed as you turned to see your date's eyes screwed shut as he clutched onto the railing of the Ferris wheel the two of you were riding. 

"Y-Yeah, Fine. Fine. Everything is fine, are we nearly at the bottom?" He questioned making your heart sink, when you'd begged to go onto the ride you hadn't thought about whether or not he was scared of heights or not. You'd just dragged him onto it,

"Felix. I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were cared of heights." He held onto your hand and slowly looked at you as he smiled weakly.

"You were so excited, I couldn't say no to that." You pouted a little as you looked down, you were still far from the end yet and you smiled back at him.

"Let's do something to take your mind off it," You suggested, looking at him as he nodded slowly at you trying to make as little movement as possible on the ride.

"What would you suggest-" He suddenly stopped as you leaned across and kissed him softly, his hands relaxing in yours as he kissed you back with ease, his mind relaxing as he forgot all about how high he was and focussed on your lips. Moving closer to you on the seat and wrapped his arms around your waist as you deepened the kiss, whimpering a little as you felt the ride come to an end.

"Again," Felix ordered the man, his fear of heights washed away as you began to make out on the ride once again.

SEUNGMIN:

"I'm telling you you can't stack!" Seungmin yelled out as you smirked at him from across the kitchen. The two of you had been playing Uno and he got annoyed that you were starting to stack cards on him, it was a quiet night in for you and some of his men since it was raining so hard outside you wanted a cosy night in together.

"I can and I did," You smirked as you looked at him, his eyes glaring at you as his men laughed from the living room. It was no secret that their boss was a sore loser and to lose to you when you were "cheating" was something he wasn't going to stand. Sure, you were only playing around as you "fought" about stacking and it drove the tension wilder between you both.

"You're a cheat," He growled moving closer to you until your back was pressed against the counter top and your faces were mere inches away from one another.

"So do something about it." You egged him on, staring into his eyes before he kissed you wildly, there was no soft kiss first it was wild and full of passion. His arms snacking around you and picking you up to place you onto the counter top, your hands working their way into his hair and tugging on the strands a little. His men filed out of the living room and up the stairs to give you both the privacy you so clearly needed.

JEONGIN:

"We could always go and get a waffle at the dessert place, I know how much you love it there." You suggested as you walked hand in hand with your date - Jeongin - who seemed a little nervous to be walking tonight. The two of you had been on almost five dates now and tonight was the first time you'd ever seen him look so nervous.

"That would be lovely, actually." He let out a breathy chuckle, throwing a glance over his shoulder as you heard tires screeching around the corner.

"What-" You tried to speak but it was too late, your body was against the floor with Jeongin on top of you, one hand holding the back of your head preventing it from hitting the floor and the other was protecting your face. Your heart raced rapidly against your chest as you took in sharp breaths, you knew who Jeongin was when you agreed to date him but you'd never thought ahead enough to realise you could be in danger.

"Innie, it's okay. I think it was just boy racers." You whispered after a few moments of silence, his arm moved from in front of your face and you stared back at one another. The air turning thick, too thick for you to take in anymore as you slowly wet your bottom lip, your heart racing for a whole other reason now. Jeongin slowly inched his face closer to yours until you could feel his breath on your lip and you moved your face closer to his until your lips were touching. 

It was soft and gentle and yet all-consuming as you kissed him softly, your arms slowly wrapping around the back of his neck and pulling him closer to you. Sparks flew around you as you whimpered a little, his tongue gently pushing into your mouth, both of you forgetting that you were on the ground kissing until someone cleared their throat.

"Sir, we should move before we're spotted," Jisung said to his boss, making you giggle a little as you got up from the floor with Jeongin's help, he straightened out his suit and smirked at you, taking your hand into his and leaving a gently kiss on your skin.

"Let's go get dessert. Food is on me, for everyone." Jeongin said loud enough for his guards to hear. 

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[til-all-are-loved]

{This Charming Man Part 8}

MTMTE Megatron x Reader | SFW

Word Count 2.3k ao3

You exhale. Then again, slower.

It was nothing. Just a pleasant exchange. Nothing more.

Except, the satisfaction of knowing you entertained him, pleased him, earned that rare reaction—should have ended at that. A small, private victory. 

But it doesn’t. It lingers in the way your skin feels too warm, the way your mind replays that half-smile, the way he said goodnight.

Like a glass of water and oil that had been shaken violently, the satisfaction curdled like tiny bubbles of oil reconstituting themselves. 

“I can’t believe I was able to pay attention to the whole movie!” Tailgate interjected, reminding you that you weren’t alone. 

On a night like this back home you would be driving home purely alone, with nothing but the open road and mixtape in the CD player. A blink of silence with Tailgate was enough to make you forget that the vehicle you were currently a passenger of was a whole other person. Secretly you mourned the peace of driving alone.

“I’m glad you stuck around,” you murmured quietly “next time I’ll pick something animated. Promise.”

Tailgate dropped you off at your door, dithered about wanting to see Cyclonus, and sped off.

You would end the day in satisfying solitude. 

---

The bridge was quiet at this hour, save for the occasional murmur of a passing officer. You had decided to head there early to do some writing. You sat tucked away at one of the terminals, fingers poised over the keys, your “report” already well underway. It was, at this point, a self-indulgent habit rather than a duty. Two weeks had passed since the last movie night, in that time there was absolutely zero correspondence from Earth Command. 

You had debated rescinding your resignation. Even if something was done about it, it's not like you could even go back to Earth. The Lost Light wasn’t scheduled to return to your solar system for another year, not even your human handlers could force them to drain the quantum engines to turn back. 

And if Earth didn’t know that you had become compromised, then there really wasn't any reason to let the command of the Lost Light know either. You’d keep your secrets in the pages of your own digital diary.

Typing away at a surprising pace, your thoughts flowed effortlessly onto the document. Unburdened by the need to uphold professionalism.

Cycle 631, 04: Megatron called me to the docks. I went, no hesitation. I’m beginning to think that’s a problem. He took me beyond the ship. Just a short flight, for the first time I saw the Lost Light from the outside. I don’t know if he meant to give me that sight, or if he simply wanted to see what I would say if we were alone. He spoke of history like it was a wound still splitting open. And then he listened, I believe he listened—as I told him I believed he was trying to mend it. The way he looked at me then… No, I won’t write that down. Cycle 631, 06: I invited him to movie night. I don’t know what I expected, but then he showed up anyway. Honestly I don’t think I really payed the movie much attention. And when it was over, he said— He liked it. That alone would have been enough to send my heart skittering, but then, as he looked at me he smiled. Not a smug asshole smirk, an honest-to-god, genuine attempt at a smile. It wasn’t practiced. It wasn’t perfect. It was just real. I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I don’t think I want to.

You paused before diving into the entry for the present day

Cycle 631, 30: No messages from Earth. No word, no acknowledgment. I should feel lost, unmoored, but instead I feel like my mind has been refocused on being part of the Lost Light. I write these records like they matter, like they’re for someone. But they’re not. They’re just for me.  Megatron has sought me out on occasion lately, for instance the other day. Not on the bridge, not under the guise of duty, but me. He said he was checking on my “health and wellbeing”. And the way he spoke—made me feel like the tepid water between us was finally starting to feel warm. Or at least that's what I think.  I caught myself smiling when he left. Ridiculous. This is getting out of hand. I can’t write his name without my fingers hesitating over the keys. I can’t replay conversations in my head without feeling light. This is nothing. It has to be. At least I can believe my feelings are completely one-sided and at least that feels safe. 

Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. 

You hit send abruptly.

---

The early hours passed you by as you kept busy. You hoped that you appeared studious while bouncing around the web. Your search queries included academic topics like: Poetry Analysis Techniques, Literature To Impress Your Crush, and Top Rated Alien Romance Novels. Very critical and work-related research. 

Bots filtered in and out, submitting reports, and conducting their work. Their mechanical workings created a unique atmosphere of busyness. Until, the typical ambience was interrupted by heavy pedes pounding into the room.

From your place near the secondary console, you could see the tension unfolding—a verbal storm brewing between mechs, their voices rising and falling in clipped, controlled bursts. It wasn’t your business.

Rodimus stood his ground against a senior officer, an Autobot lieutenant. His name didn’t matter—his presence did. He was stationed on the Lost Light from launch, before Megatron’s co-captaincy, and he wore that history like armor.

“You’ve been operating this ship like an experiment,” the mech’s voice edged with frustration. “This was meant to be an expedition, not a political stage. The crew grows restless. And you—” he jabbed a finger in Rodimus’s direction, “—allow too much slack. What is this ship if not a rogue element at this point?”

Rodimus, to his credit, looked exasperated rather than riled. “Sounds like you’re saying I’m the problem,” he quipped, arms crossed. “Which, hey, fair. But unless you’re gunning for my job, I suggest you get to your actual point.”

“My point,” the commander snapped, “is that too many compromises have been made. Too many allowances for distractions, for—” his helm wrenched sideways—directly at you.

You stiffened.

“—for irrelevant personnel.”

The words landed firmly. A clean dismissal.

You weren’t the focus of this discussion, yet suddenly, you were.

Another mech, emboldened by the sentiment, cut in.

“She doesn’t belong here.”

It was said so simply, so carelessly, like you were just another logistical issue to be sorted out.

“Ambassadors don’t have clearance to oversee command-level disputes, like schedules,” the officer continued. “She is not a ranking crew member, nor does she hold authority in any sector of ship operations. At best, she’s a guest. And at worst—” the implication hung there.

Your fingers curled against the edge of the console. Rodimus straightened, clearly about to step in, but he wasn’t fast enough.

The temperature in the room dropped.

“She remains exactly where she is.”

The conversation stopped. The tension in the room froze. Pin drop silence.

Every optic turned toward him.

He was still seated, still composed, but something in his expression was razor-sharp. Megatron’s optics burned like embers beneath the focus of his glare, locking onto the mech who had dared to speak out.

“She is not here by your permission,” Megatron continued, voice dangerously close to a snarl. “And she will not be removed at your whim.”

A beat of silence.

Then, the bot ex-vented sharply, clearly not one to back down. “Megatron, this is a command space. If nothing else, protocol dictates—”

He moved.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t violent. But in a single, fluid motion, Megatron stood.

Pedes scraped against the metal floor as he rose to his full height, shoulders squared, every inch of his frame settling into an overwhelming posture.

It was rare for Megatron to throw the weight of his presence into a room like this. He didn’t need to. His authority was written into every part of this ship’s hierarchy. But this—this—was different. He wasn’t asserting command.

He was asserting something else entirely.

Most of the uninvolved mechs resumed their duties, the air of efficiency resumed. The lieutenant shifted uncomfortably but was not ready to back down yet..

“You would bend rules for an organic?” the second mech scoffed. “I thought you, of all people, understood the cost of—”

Megatron moved again.

Faster than you could process, he turned—and in a single, controlled motion, he reached for you.

You barely had a moment to realize he closed the distance towards you.  Before his massive hand closed around you, lifting you with frightening ease. His servos pressed around you with a restraint so deliberate, you could almost mistake it for gentleness.

His claim over you unmistakable as he placed you at his side near the central command console.

Standing beside him, disoriented and heart hammering, you barely registered the way his fingers briefly curled against your frame before pulling away. You swiftly tidied your clothing and appearance before quickly standing at attention with your hands behind your back. It took everything to peel your eyes away from your feet. 

Then, his voice—steadier now, but no less sharp:

“You seem confused.”

He turned his optics onto the mechs.

“She is not optional.”

The lieutenant  looked as if he wanted to argue. But there was no space left for it. He exited the bridge. 

Megatron had spoken.

And the matter was closed.

The murmurs resumed gradually, like the tide rolling back after a storm. No one addressed what had just happened. Optics darted toward you before quickly returning to their stations. No one wanted to be the one to dwell on it. 

You waited. Not immediately, not foolishly, but long enough for their attention to fully drift elsewhere. Then you turned your gaze upward.

Megatron was already watching.

It wasn’t a piercing stare, nor was it the unreadable scrutiny he so often wielded. It was something settled. A silent knowing passed between you, neither of you smiling, it was unmistakable. A look exchanged between allies. Between friends.

You inhaled softly before speaking. “Thank you, Captain.”

His expression didn’t change.

“Am I dismissed?” you asked, voice measured, professional.

A pause. Then, with the same gesture as before, Megatron lifted you once more, lowering you carefully back to the ground. As soon as your feet touched the floor, his hand withdrew, as if the act had never happened at all.

You nodded once, adjusting your stance, ignoring the way your knees wobbled. Then, without another word, you turned and left.

—-

You weren’t sure how you ended up here, tucked away in one of the ship’s quieter observation decks with Megatron standing just a few feet away. Maybe you had wandered. Maybe he had led you here. Either way, the bridge was long behind you, and the lingering weight of all those staring optics had finally peeled off your shoulders.

The silence between you wasn’t strained. Your hands felt a bit too clammy, your body still buzzing with the leftover adrenaline of being claimed so publicly.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you finally said, keeping your voice steady.

Megatron didn’t turn right away. He stood near the massive viewport, arms crossed, watching the endless stretch of space. “Would you rather I had let them dismiss you?”

You huffed, shaking your head. “No, but... Megatron, that wasn’t just asserting authority. That was…” You gestured vaguely, because how the hell were you supposed to put that into words? That was something I don’t know how to name.

He finally looked at you, unreadable as ever, but his optics weren’t hard—not like they had been on the bridge. Whatever fire had been in them earlier had cooled.

“If you do not yet understand,” he said slowly, voice firm, “then let me make it clear.”

His gaze didn’t waver.

“You are not insignificant to me.”

The way he said it—so simple, so matter-of-fact, like it wasn’t even up for debate.

You swallowed, blinking up at him.  Your fingers curled at your sides before you hesitated and—

“…Can you pick me up?”

Megatron blinked. Then, after a moment he ex-vented, bent down on one knee and lowered his hand.

You stepped into his palm, feeling the way his servos adjusted around you as he lifted you effortlessly. His other hand came up, shielding you from the open space, like he was instinctively keeping you protected. It made your stomach do something weird, but you ignored it.

“Closer,” you beckoned.

If he was surprised by the request, he didn’t show it. He brought you to his chest, and you shifted forward, pressing against the broad, solid plating of his frame. Your arms didn’t reach far—couldn’t, really—but you still held him, as much as you were able.

He went very still.

His plating felt warmer here than his servos. Embracing it felt like leaning against a steel door that had been facing the sun– or, well, like a hot car. Soft clicks and hissing tubes could be heard beneath his armor, undercut by a very low thrum.

For a second, you thought maybe you’d overstepped, maybe this was too much, but then his fingers curled ever so slightly around you, holding you in place.

You shut your eyes, exhaling softly. “Thank you.”

Megatron didn’t respond right away. But eventually, you felt something—a shift in the way he held you, the weight of his presence easing just a fraction.

“…You are welcome,” he murmured.

You stayed like that for a little while longer. Just long enough to let it mean something.

---