#Talked this through with Tau :]

[sofhtie]

aminata isisegu. hello. hello. do u all even care. does anyone even care that she’s the worlds worst girl. hello. hello

[rifleseye]

Anatomy of a Microscope

I. Scope —

Perceptor’s scope has many different functions aside from the simple functionality of magnification. It functions as an Electron Microscope, laser imaging, and thermal imaging. His scope is directly connected to his nerve and optical net, functioning, essentially, as a third eye. He is able to disconnect it via connectors attached to his sensory net, however the process is arduous and requires nerve suppressants.

His scope is incredibly sensitive, similar to how an eyelid is, and is a No Touch Zone, no matter who you are.

II. Stabilizers —

The stabilizers on his forearms originally functioned as stabilizers for his scope. However after his near death experience he modified them so they could stabilize his entire arms. Functionally, his alt mode is useless for anyone else to use because of this. (Something he much prefers.)

Now, however, he completely removed their external component and they're stored entirely under his armor for internal manual control.

III. Tactile Sensors —

Perceptor has highly specialized tactile sensors in his fingers, meant for deconstructing the composition of any object on an atomic level. This was useful for when he was a metallurgist. Aside from his fingers, his crest is similarly sensitive. He can detect atmospheric changes, meant to circumvent any changes that might tamper with his scans due the atmosphere he’s in (or without.)

IV. Specialized Needles

—

The tips of Perceptor’s fingers can fold back revealing needles that also function as clippers. These were personal modifications he made when he acted as something of a medic for the Wreckers. He's kept these, and still uses them for particularly small specimens, though not as often.

V. Universal Emulator —

Perceptor has a universal emulator: what this means is that he has the unique ability of interfacing with any technology and acting as the admin of said tech. Hacking is very easy for him because of this, but he doesn't give it much use outside of situations that call for it. If removed his consciousness is transferred to it while his body remains dormant. As long as he isn't separated from his body for long he'll stay alive. After a certain point he’ll deteriorate and his body will slip into an irreversible coma. It acts as something of a secondary brain module, which is why he's able to consume so much information at once.

His emulator is located next to his fuel tank in his torso, think where the spleen would be in a human.

VI. Data Cables —

Modern microscopes, especially electron microscopes can connect to screens, and the data is often transferred to databases so other scientists can parse the information. I think it'd make sense that he'd have data cables. Before the war, microscopes were often paired up with computers because of this. There is often symbiotic relationships between microscopes and computers.

Like all Microscopes, Perceptor has data cables of his own. They're located under his backplates. He doesn't tend to use them much, however, as they have a strange interaction with his Universal Emulator.

Since his Emulator basically functions as a self preservation mechanic, when he hooks up to something with his cables an EMP is set off in. He has to go through a Process to sidestep the natural reaction and he doesn't like bothering with it. It wouldn't be that way if not for the early experiments Airies did when he was like Just Born, so it's more a result of The Horrors than his emulator.

Simultaneously, he cannot help but act as a sort of... trojan malware with them, uploading much of his own subroutines into whatever system he's connected to. This one is a direct result of his emulator.

VII. Weight Distribution System —

In order to counteract the weight of his scope and all that goes with it, he's got a complex system of weights and pullies throughout his body that, when in root mode, make his left side heavier (since his scope is on the right side) so he stays balanced, and when he transforms those weights even out.

[smileysuh]

ghostie

🌙 staring. Johnny x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. As one am rolls around, you start to realize that maybe tonight you won’t get a call. He is a frat boy, and this is Halloween weekend.  You’re disappointed as you get into bed, frowning as you scroll on your phone, hoping that if you wait another five minutes, maybe he’ll catch you. Five minutes turns into ten, turns into fifteen, and you find your eyes beginning to shut. You’re starting to understand how much you truly have come to depend on Ghostie as part of your nightly ritual. It hurts not to get a call from your favourite voice-modulated anonymous frat boy.

tw/cw. yandere/stalker subthemes, unknown caller, weed use, multiple reader orgasms, big dick!Johnny, oral, pussy eating, blowjob, deep throating, spit as lube, fingering, hand riding, dacryphilia, praise, dirty talk, cum/fullness kink, unprotected sex, heavy grinding, dick bulge, creampie, rough groping, slight restraint, size kink, submissive reader, subspace, dumbification, hair pulling, finger sucking, etc… I pet names: (hers) Tiny, good girl, pretty girl. (his) Ghostie.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 15k

🍭 aus. uni/frat au, yandere subthemes, Halloween, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. this might just be the best John fic I've ever written, or maybe I just need therapy

Sunday 

You pause your movie when your phone rings and you look down at the screen. The number is unknown, and you briefly consider not even answering it. However, you’ve had two job interviews in the past week, and you don’t want to miss any opportunities, so with a sigh, you bring your phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Tiny, how’s your night going?”

Definitely not a prospective employer. Your sorority gave you the name Tiny during first year, something to do with the ‘tiny’ shots you always want to take, and only those within the Greek system use it on you. On top of the Greek-specific term of endearment, the man on the other end of the line is using a voice modulator of some sort, and it makes it impossible for you to identify him.

Your curiosity is sparked. 

“Who is this?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You sigh, leaning back against your bed and setting your laptop to the side. “I get that Scream is having a comeback, but this whole ‘calling a girl and being mysterious’ thing won’t get you laid anytime soon.”

“Are you sure about that?” You can hear a hint of laughter in the man’s voice.

“If you’re not going to tell me who you are, I’ll hang up.”

“We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” There’s a pause then, “Let’s just say, a mutual friend gave me your number. They thought we’d hit it off.”

“Whoever this ungendered mutual friend is, I doubt they expected you to call me with a voice modulator and act out a Ghost Face fantasy. I get that Halloween is a week away, but come on… you can’t be serious about this.” 

“I am serious. Come on Tiny, live a little.” 

“You’re awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you, Mister Ghost Face.” 

“I’ve got good reason to be, trust me on that.”

You let out a deep sigh, going through your roster of men who might think this sort of thing would be funny. “Yunho? Is this you getting high again?” 

“Wrong frat, but good guess. I didn’t know Alpha Tappa Zeta’s star quarterback was a stoner, thanks for the info, Tiny.” 

“Shit,” you mutter to yourself. You hadn’t meant to throw Yunho under the bus like that.

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone about his… habits. That would be hypocritical of me.”

You search your mind for the stoners you know. Ones who would have the balls to call you like this. 

“Do you want to take another guess? I’ll give you three chances. You have two more.”

Aside from ATZ, you spend a lot of time with Sigma Veta Tau. Soonyoung is a well-known blunt roller in the fraternity system, but he wouldn’t do a charade like this. He’s very open about hitting on you any time you’re at one of his parties. 

“Jeonghan?” you ask.

“Last guess, Tiny.” 

He doesn’t confirm or deny if you’ve gotten the frat right, but you can’t really see any other SVT members who would fit this mysterious man’s profile. 

Your mind wanders to Nu Chi Theta. They’ve got quite a few weed lovers there, and you’ve been invited into many closed-room smoke sessions with the dirty NCT boys. 

There’s Yuta, and he’d definitely have the gall to entertain a flirtation like this. However, you don’t know of any mutual friends who would ever set you up with him. With another sigh of irritation, you throw out the last name on your shortlist of stoner acquaintances. 

“Hyuck? Please tell me this isn’t you.”

“Close but no cigar.” 

“I don’t like this game.”

“You’re not supposed to like it, but it is entertaining, don’t you think?”

“What’s your angle with all of this?” you question. “If you’re not going to tell me who you are, then what’s the point of calling?”

The line is silent for a few moments. “I guess… I just wanted to talk to you a little, is that so bad?”

Your heart softens, if only momentarily. “Then grow some balls and ask me out like a real man.”

“Where would be the fun in that?” The mystery man lets out a short chuckle, and your irritation only grows. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really annoying?”

“A few times actually.”

“Well, you’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met and I haven’t even met you.”

“Yes, you have.”

“God, I’m tired of this. Goodnight.” 

You don’t even wait for an answer, you simply hang up.

Despite trying to get back to your movie, you can’t get the mystery man out of your head. When you go to bed you can’t even sleep, your mind completely full of all the possibilities of who your caller could have been. 

You’ll have to do some digging tomorrow. You can’t not figure out who this guy is- and you know just the fratboy to give you all the details you could need.

Monday

Mark Lee is always fifteen minutes early, even when it comes to an 8am class. You feel like shit after tossing and turning all night, so when you slide into the seat next to him in the back of the class, he gives you a once over and his lips part in shock.

“Are you okay?”

“No, Mark, I’m not okay,” you snap, regretting it a moment later- after all, Mark’s not the one doing this to you. “Someone called me from an unknown number last night. A frat guy, I’m not sure who. He was using this voice modulator-”

“That sounds hella sketchy.”

“Super sketchy,” you agree. 

“I know it’s October and everything, but that’s a weird way to hit on a girl.”

“That’s what I said!” Mark always understands you. “He said a mutual friend gave him my number, thought we’d be cute together or something- whoever it was, I need to strangle them.”

“Is this friend a girl or a guy?”

“Mystery man wouldn’t tell me,” you groan.

“So… this dude could be literally anyone.”

“Not Yunho from Alpha Tappa Zeta, Jeonghan from Sigma Veta Tau, and not your roommate Hyuck. The guy gave me three guesses,” you explain, “the hint is that he’s a stoner.”  

“Lots of frat guys are stoners.”

“Exactly,” you sigh, leaning back in your seat. 

“What are you going to do if he calls you again?” Mark asks. “This kind of feels like stalker behavior.”

“It does,” you admit. “But at the same time, he calls me Tiny, and he says we’ve met before- when I asked what he even got out of the phonecall he said he just wanted to ‘talk to me a little,’ which, I don’t know, for some reason I feel like he’s not a stalker.” 

Mark gives you a look that says ‘You’re crazy,’ and after listening to everything that just spewed out of your own mouth, maybe you kind of agree with him.

 “So if he calls you again…” Mark reasks his earlier question, one you’d chosen to ignore.

But you can’t ignore it now, and you let out a deep breath.

“If he calls again… We’ll see what happens.”

“Tiny-”

“Mark,” you counter, knowing he’s about to chastise you. But you don’t want to hear it. If even he doesn’t have any idea of who your mystery caller could be, you simply can’t give up. If you never find out who this ‘Ghost Face’ dude is, you’ll feel unsolved for the rest of your life and you know it.

“Look, I’ll ask around a little,” Mark concedes.

You let out a squeal of delight, throwing your arms around your closet fratboy friend. He lets out a chuckle, gently squeezing you back. 

Mark’s a good guy. 

If only you were into good guys and not sleazy stoners calling you while getting a hard-on for being Ghost Face.

Monday pt 2

It’s nine o'clock and you’re starting to get tired while you study. You’re in need of a distraction, so when your phone rings with an unknown number, your heart practically jumps into your throat.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Tiny.”

“Wow, Mister Ghost Face,” you laugh, twirling in your spinny chair, “two nights in a row. You must really like me, huh?”

The laugh he lets out sounds genuine, even though his voice is obscured still. For some reason, the noise makes you grin, and you can’t believe you’re actually kind of having fun with this.

“I do like you,” the mystery man confirms. “Tell me about your day.”

“Tell you about my day?” You’re in shock.

“Uh huh.”

“No teasing or nothing? No three guesses about your identity?” 

“I’ll tell you what,” he lets out a sigh, “like you said, Halloween is in a week. If you keep letting me call you until then, I’ll reveal myself when you come to the party.”

“The party?” you repeat. “You make it sound like there’s only one frat party on Halloween.”

“Only one worth going to.”

“Is that so?” He’s so cocky- why does that turn you on? 

“Yup. In fact, I know you agree with me on this, because the past two Halloweens, you’ve come to my frat.” 

Your body freezes. He’s just given you a massive hint-

“So you’re an NCT boy?”

“Wouldn’t call myself a boy, and neither would you if you saw what's in my pants.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat, not sure how to even respond to the suggestive comment he’s just made. 

The man on the other end of the line lets out a chuckle. “Sorry, I’m two blunts deep. I should watch what I say to you, that's why I asked about your day.”

“You don’t have to- watch what you say, I mean.”

“Yeah?” You can almost picture him leaning back in a chair, a large half-chub growing in his pants- “Are you getting horny from a mystery man on your phone? Dirty girl.”

“Dirty guy,” you counter, “trying to entice me by saying your dick is big.”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

“I’m intrigued,” you admit, “but not only because of your cock.”

“It’s a nice cock.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you about my day,” you sidestep. “Had an early class with Mark Lee, you must know Mark.”

“Of course.”

“Well, he has no clue who you could be.”

“You talked about me.” 

You can hear him smiling. 

“I bet you couldn’t even sleep last night. Too busy trying to figure out who I am.”

Okay, maybe he is a bit of a stalker. Or maybe he just knows you well… who the fuck is this guy?

“Stop being so cocky,” you insist.

“Tell me I’m wrong.” 

“Mark told me you’re probably a stalker, said I should maybe block your number.”

“I don’t have a number, if I did, that would be too easy for you. I’m an unknown caller… can you even block unknown callers?” 

“I guess we’ll find out when I block you.”

“Won’t happen though. What did you do after your class with Mark?”

“Are you really that interested in my day?” 

“I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t interested.”

He’s a cocky softy, who would have imagined. 

You wonder what you ever did to make this guy so sweet on you- you’ve dated men who don’t even care to ask you how your day went, and this guy is out here doing it practically for free.

“Classes were okay, my sorority had a little fundraiser at lunch, we baked cupcakes.”

“They were good cupcakes.” 

“Wait…” your stomach churns a little. “You stopped by?”

“I’m a sucker for cupcakes, and how cute your butt looks in blue jeans.”

You search your memory, counting how many NCT boys came through around lunch. You realize that there were far too many for it to do any good in deciphering which one is the man you’re currently talking to.

“Did we talk?”

“You talked to everyone who bought something. I’m not special.”

Except… he kind of is special, in a way you can’t truly explain… not yet anyways.

“Maybe you are a stalker,” you decide.

“I can promise you I’m not, but I bet you’d be kind of into it if I was.”

This guy makes you feel such conflicting emotions, you’re not sure how to even handle him.

“Look, I was studying when you called-”

“Right, you should get back to that.”

“I should.”

“Sleep tight, Tiny. It’s been nice talking to you.”

Part of you wants to return the sentiment, it feels second nature, but the words stop on your tongue. In all fairness, it hasn’t been particularly nice talking to the mystery Ghost Face guy. 

Instead of saying anything else, you simply hit him with a “Bye,” and you hang up the phone.

However, you don’t get back to studying, you immediately call Mark.

He sounds groggy as he says “Hello?”

“Did I wake you?”

“No.”

“I just got a call from that guy again. He’s definitely one of your frat brothers, and he’s high right now.”

“That doesn’t narrow it down,” Mark sighs. “We sort of uh… all got high at the fire after dinner.”

“Mark Lee!” you screech.

“Sorry, sorry!” Mark groans. “I’ll uh… ask around some more. We’ll figure out who this dude is.”

“And if we don’t… he said he’d tell me who he is at your frat Halloween bash at the end of the week.” 

It’s Monday now, and the party is on Saturday. That means you’ll only have to wait a few days… you can hold out for a few days… can’t you?

Tuesday

You read over the email a third time, but it doesn’t make anything better. The words ‘We regret to inform you that you have not been chosen for the position’ make your eyes begin to well with tears.

Quickly exiting your phone, you grab your things. You refuse to cry in the middle of the library-

The bathroom will have to do the trick, and you hurry to get there, holding back the choked sob that longs to slip out of you.

You’d thought for sure this interview would land you a job on campus. The interview had gone well, or so you’d thought.

You don’t even know why you’re getting so upset about this. 

There’s just something so devastating about rejection. 

You get to the bathroom quickly, shutting yourself into a stall before you allow the tears to fall again. You cradle your face in your hands, allowing the sadness to overwhelm you.

It’s important to have a good cry every now and again, and you definitely need this.

Your cries, however, are interrupted by your phone ringing in your pocket. Wiping at your face, you reach for the device, lifting it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Are you okay?” 

“I really don’t have time for this right now, Ghost-” you groan, closing your eyes at the familiar voice-modulated sound.

“You do have time,” he insists. “Tell me what happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just saw you running through the library. Looked like you were crying.”

“I wasn’t crying!” you nearly yell. 

“Liar. Come on, Tiny, let Ghostie make you feel better.”

The affectionate-sounding nickname prompts you to wipe your eyes. “Are you sure you’re not a stalker?”

“I was in the library, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“Was?”

“I’m gone now, can’t have you figuring out who I am before Halloween.”

“Would it really be so bad if I did?” you question. “It would make me feel better.”

“Look at you, using your bad experience to try to swindle me,” you hear him laugh, and there are more sounds now, as if he’s walking across campus. “Seriously, Tiny, tell me what’s going on.”

“Do you always walk around campus with a voice modulator?”

“It’s an app on my phone babe, now answer my question.” 

“You didn’t ask a question, you commanded me to tell you what happened, and I’m not taking commands right now.”

He sighs. “Will you please tell me what’s making you cry?”

Your lower lip trembles. “It’s stupid.”

“Nothing that hurts you is stupid.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“It looked like you needed a friend.”

“You’re not my friend. You’re some guy who got my number and gets hard by pretending to be Ghost Face from Scream.”

“I could be your friend. Could be more than your friend. And I’m not hard right now. Not after seeing you cry.” 

You take a breath. “I applied for a job and I uh… they didn’t hire me.”

“Then they’re stupid.”

“Maybe I’m stupid.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m a girl who’s spent three days talking to a guy who keeps his identity a secret, and for some crazy reason, you’re actually making me feel better. That definitely makes me stupid.”

“No, it makes you soft. It’s one of the things I like about you.”

“Yeah?” you sniffle. “What else? And don’t say my ass in blue jeans.”

The man chuckles. “You’re soft, and kind. But you’re a fighter too. You’ve got a spark. Don’t even get me started on how smart you are-”

“And how would you know how smart I am?”

“For starters, you’re in the top-scoring sorority on campus,” he points out. “Whenever you come to trivia night, you wipe the floor with all of us. Mark talks constantly about how much you help him with his classes, which brings me to my next point, you care about charity. That’s a great sign of your character.” 

“You do know a lot about me, don’t you, Ghostie?” His words have stopped your tears, and you cradle your phone close to your ear. 

“Still not a stalker though.”

Now he even has you laughing. “Jury’s still out on that one.”

“You sound better already,” he muses. “Mark has a free block right now, I’m sure if you call him he’d take you for ice cream or something to distract you.”

“That’s a good idea,” you admit.

“I’m full of good ideas.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, Tiny.”

Tuesday pt 2

“This guy sounds like a full-on stalker,” Mark says for the sixth time as you grab ice cream and sit inside while a storm passes, rain splattering the windows.

“I mean, if he knew your schedule, I’m guessing he’s someone close to you.”

“He’s stalking us both, I don’t like it.”

“But he’s nice.”

“He’s stalking you, Tiny!” 

“He’s not!” you insist. “A lot of people were at the library today… honestly, I think… I think Ghostie is kind of sweet.”

“Ghostie?!” Mark stares at you in shock. “You’re calling him Ghostie now?”

“It’s cute, right?”

“It’s crazy is what it is!” Mark leans back in his seat, frowning. “This is giving me the creeps.”

“Well, it’s spooky season.”

“If I’m being honest, I don’t think any of my frat brothers would pull crazy shit like this. They’re mostly pretty chill dudes.”

“So you think he’s lying about being in NCT?” you ask, cocking your head to the side.

“I think he’s definitely lying,” Mark confirms.

“Well, agree to disagree.”

Mark studies you for a moment. “Look, the only guy who’s a freak like this is Yuta and he swore up and down to me yesterday that he’s not calling you with a fucking voice modulator.” 

“I don’t think this is Yuta.”

“Because you’re a Ghostie expert now, huh?” He scoffs loudly.

“Yuta’s not really a stoner,” you point out. “And besides, I can’t explain why I know it’s not him, I just have a feeling.”

“Yeah, is that feeling in your pussy by any chance?” 

“Mark Lee!” you gasp, scandalized by his choice of words. 

“Be real with me!” he insists. “You wouldn’t be entertaining this if it wasn’t… I don’t know, turning you on? Are you turned on by stalkers? Is this why you like Halloween so much?”

“Okay, maybe I am turned on, but that doesn’t make me a bad person.”

“It just makes you crazy,” Mark groans, running a hand through his hair. “I swear to God, when the dude reveals himself at the frat party, it better be one of my frat brothers and not a serial killer. And also, I’m going to fight him.”

“Something tells me he’d beat you,” you giggle.

“Now you’re trying to make me feel bad.”

“Says the guy who just called me crazy.” You grin, knowing that you’ve won.

“This whole thing is crazy.”

He has a point about that.

Wednesday

You’ve been waiting all day for a call from Ghostie, and it comes right before you’re about to head to bed. You practically launch yourself at your phone, putting it on speaker and saying “Hello?” as if you don’t know who’s on the other end of the line.

“Hey you, feeling better today?”

“You tell me, mister stalker.”

“I haven’t actually seen you today, it was a bit of a shame if I’m being honest.”

“Yeah?” God, this man has way too much power over you. “And why’s that, Ghostie?”

“Because I’ve been looking at your Instagram, but you’re cuter in person.”

“Do you follow me?” 

“We’re mutuals.” 

You’re mutuals with pretty much the entire NCT frat, it would have been more helpful if he’d said he’s not a follower, although, now that you think of it, that had always been unlikely. 

“Still trying to figure out who I am, aren’t you, Tiny?”

“Of course.”

“Remember when I was listing your good qualities? Patience wasn’t one of them.” 

“That’s so rude of you,” you say, although, you’re grinning at your phone.

“Here, I’ll make it better. I have an idea for you.”

“Let’s hear it then.” You get comfortable on your bed, wondering what he’s about to say.

“If you want a job, there’s this bar on campus, Skeets. Have you heard of it?”

“Who hasn’t heard of Skeets?” You roll your eyes. 

“They let just about anyone work there. A few of the NCT guys are bartenders, I’m sure they’d put a good word in for you with the hiring manager, he’s also a member of the frat.” 

You haven’t been to Skeets in ages, and you try to remember who you know amongst the staff. “Wait, you’re right- doesn’t Hyuck work there?”

“He does… This is the second time you’ve mentioned him, got something of a crush, Tiny?”

“Would that make you jealous?” you tease.

“I’m not the jealous type,” he states. “But yeah… it would.”

“Don’t get your Ghost Face mask in a knot, I don’t have a crush on Hyuck. In fact, if you turn out to be Hyuck and I find out you lied to me about your identity, I’m going to be really mad.” 

“I’m not Hyuck.”

“Good.” You consider his proposition for a moment. “Do you really think they’d hire me?”

“It doesn’t hurt to try.”

“You know, on Sunday, if someone had told me you’d be helping me find a job not three days later, I would have said they were crazy.”

“Guess I like to keep you on your toes.”

“I think you just have a major soft spot for me. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I can’t. I promised not to lie to you.” 

God, he makes you so giddy it’s insane. 

“Are you going to come stalk me at Skeets if they give me a job?”

“Goodnight, Tiny.” He’s avoiding the question, and you can hear him grinning through the phone.

“Night, Ghostie.”

It’s the first time he’s the one to hang up on you, and it leaves you wanting more.

Thursday

Ghostie had assured you that Skeets hires just about anyone, but that doesn’t help the anxiety building inside of you as you prepare to take your resume into the bar. 

You even do a Wonderwoman pose outside while waiting for Skeets to open, breathing deeply to psych yourself up while you go over possible interview questions just in case the hiring manager wants a chit-chat today.

“I love working in a team environment,” you say quietly to yourself, closing your eyes and running through responses. “The most important thing is that the guests feel welcome.”

The sound of something dragging across the cement ground has you practically jumping, lids flashing open as your head whips toward the noise.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt your mantra,” the tall fratboy laughs, setting up the wooden sign with the daily drink menu just in front of the door to the bar.

“It’s fine,” you assure him, swallowing thickly. 

The man in front of you is Johnny Suh. He’s two years older than you, and you know him through Mark. When guys join a frat, they’re assigned a ‘Big,’ an elder frat brother to guide them through the process. Johnny is Mark’s big, and he’s always been nice to you whenever you’ve crossed paths.

You would call Johnny an acquaintance, not a friend, but he’s still a friendlier face than you may have expected to see upon your first moments interacting with Skeets staff. 

“You coming inside, Tiny?” Johnny asks.

“Yeah, sorry John, one sec, I just need another deep breath.” You wave your hand at him, turning your back and gulping down air while you hold your bag tight to your front, the resume within practically burning a hole in the leather.

The hot fratboy heads back inside and you finish calming yourself down. 

You can do this. You can get this job.

As you enter the bar that’s just open, you realize there are only a few staff members kicking around so far. Kim Jungwoo is rearranging chairs, and Lee Donghyuck is sitting on a table looking at his phone. Johnny Suh is behind the bar, and you decide you should probably talk to him, so you try to act confident as you walk through the small establishment.

Johnny’s brown eyes raise as you approach, and he offers you a small smile. “Tough day?”

“What?” You blink at him, settling against the bartop.

“You looked kind of off outside, and most people don’t come in to day-drink this early.”

“Oh, uh… I’m not here to day-drink.” You let out a tiny laugh. “Actually, I came to see if you guys were looking to hire new staff members, I brought my resume.”

You reach into your bag to pull out the papers, and you hand them over to Johnny.

His eyes scan the first sheet. “Wow, a cover letter, I’ve actually never seen one of these.”

People don’t apply with cover letters? The idea is kind of shocking to you.

Johnny hardly looks at your resume, setting it down in front of him to address you instead. “What makes you want to work at Skeets?”

“In all honesty, I need a job. I’m dependable, and I’ve got a decent schedule to work in the food service industry. I like working as part of a team, and I’m already friends with a lot of the staff here, so I thought it might be a good fit.”

Johnny nods, assessing you. “Have you bartended before?”

“I’ve got my qualifications to serve alcohol, but I’ve mostly had waitressing jobs,” you admit.

“At Skeets, we all do a bit of everything. Would you be open to learning how to mix drinks?”

“I’d be very open to it,” you nod. 

“Then let’s give it a shot,” Johnny smiles warmly at you. “You’ve got good timing, we actually just had to let go of someone for excessive drinking on the job. I was going to put a wanted ad up today, but looks like that won’t be necessary.”

“Are you…” you swallow thickly, “are you serious? I’m hired?”

“Yeah, why not?” 

You can’t help the squeal of delight that rushes through you, and a massive grin makes its way onto your face. You even jump a little, and Johnny seems to enjoy your excitement, smiling from ear to ear while you celebrate. 

“When can you start?” he asks next.

“I can start tomorrow! I mean, if you need me that soon.”

“Tomorrow is a big night here at Skeets, the Friday before Halloween. We could use the hands, but it will be a busy one, do you think you can handle that?”

You’re quick to nod. “Of course. But I uh… I should let you know, I can’t work Halloween, I promised a friend I’d meet them at your frat for the party.”

“Don’t worry about Saturday,” Johnny assures you. “Sigma Veta Tau has their frat party tonight, so it’s all us NCT guys working, and tomorrow we’ll switch. As much as Seungcheol is a good comanager, I don’t trust him to teach you how to mix drinks on Halloween.”

“So… you’re going to be the main person training me then?” you ask.

“If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself,” he confirms. 

You can’t help but beam up at the tall frat boy, overjoyed at this turn of events. As cute as Johnny is though, part of you is excited to tell Ghostie about this when he inevitably calls you tonight. 

Your life is definitely a little crazy.

“So, how about you come in tomorrow at seven?” Johnny suggests. “The bar will be open past midnight, but I figure I can show you a few things before it gets busy around ten, and then I can let you go early.”

“I’ll be here at seven.”

“And when it comes to what you’re wearing, we’ll give you a Skeets t-shirt,” he pulls at the black fabric stretched tight across his broad chest. “Other than that, you can wear any color of jeans and some sneakers.”

“Perfect.”

“You’ll be paid for the training shift, I’ll tip you out in cash, and if it goes well, we’ll get your banking details at your next shift after that,” Johnny explains. “I’ve got your number here on your resume, so I’ll be in contact with you on Sunday, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds like a dream.” You literally can’t stop smiling.

“Tiny’s going to learn to mix,” Johnny says fondly, “Mark’s going to love this.”

You already feel close to Mark’s big, and the opportunity to work with him is a good one. Johnny is one of the more well-known nice guys at the frat. Sure, he’s got a little bit of a dangerous edge to him, just based on his massive stature alone, but he’s generally a big softy bear. 

“Thanks again for this, Johnny,” you beam. “I won’t let you down.”

Thursday pt 2

“Hyuck said our favorite Tiny sorority princess got herself a job today.” 

“Hello to you too, Ghostie.”

“I wanted to cut to the chase and congratulate you.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten the job without you,” you admit. “So… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” your mystery man says, and you can hear that classic grin of his. “I’m sure you got it on your own merit.”

“Apparently no one’s ever brought a cover letter with their resume before.”

“They must have been impressed.” 

“Hired me on the spot.”

“That’s my girl.” 

Your insides flutter. You like the way it sounds when he calls you his girl. “How about your day, Ghostie? Stalk any new girls?”

He laughs. “Only one girl worth stalking, which, I don’t do, by the way.”

“Sure you don’t.”

“My day was long,” he says finally.

“Yeah, it’s nearly midnight, I was thinking about going to sleep but…”

“But you wanted me to call,” Ghostie finishes your sentence for you.

“When you say it like that it sounds kind of depressing.”

“It’s not depressing, Tiny, it’s cute.”

“Cute?” 

“I like that you’re getting used to me.”

“You know… if you decided not to show up to the Halloween party- if you never called again, I think… I’d wonder who you are the rest of my life.” It’s a moment of vulnerability, and your heart races in your chest while you wait for his response. 

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Tiny,” Ghostie promises. “I’ll find you on Saturday, and not in a stalker way.”

“What costume are you going to be wearing?” 

“If I tell you, you’ll just show up and scour the whole place looking for me.”

“You know me too well, don’t you, Ghostie?”

“What are you going to wear, pretty girl?”

You literally kick your feet at the term of endearment, body buzzing. It takes a moment to collect yourself. “Honestly? I’ve got a Ghost Face mask hanging around somewhere.”

“And here I was being told I’m the one who gets hard pretending to be Ghost Face.” 

“Well… even though I don’t know you, not really, I think I got that one pretty accurate, didn’t I?”

“Maybe a little.”

“I thought you said you were big,” you tease.

“Okay, maybe a lot.”

You bite at your lip. After the great day you’ve had, it’s difficult not to feel flirty. “Are you hard right now, big guy?”

He groans, and even under the voice modulator, something tells you the sounds he makes are sexy as fuck. You can feel your panties getting wet. It’s dirty, but in the best possible way.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you grin.

“You’re being bad, Tiny.”

“Says the guy who’s literally hard right now.”

The other end of the line is silent for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.”

“What if… when we meet, you’re not interested in me?”

Well, this has just taken a turn. How did you go from horny thoughts to insecurity? 

It’s a valid question though, one you should have asked yourself by now, but for some reason you haven’t. You think about it for a few seconds. 

“I feel like… I know it’s been less than a week of talking but, you’re not like any other guy I’ve ever met. And not just because you’re calling with a voice modulator.” You let out a laugh. “You ask how my day is, and you care to hear my answer. You even helped me get a job, which is crazy to think about. For some weird reason, I think when I meet you, the emotional connection is already kind of there, so no matter what you look like, you’ll be more attractive to me.”

“You really think so?” 

“I mean, NCT is known for having hot guys, so I’m not sure who you could be that would turn me off. There are only a few NCT guys I’d say a hard no to at the moment.”

“Yeah? Who?” 

“Well, Doyoung and I have never gotten along, but I know you’re not him because he doesn’t touch weed. I dated Jeno for about a week, and I know enough about him to know I don’t want to do anything with him ever again, and also, that you’re not Jeno because he’d never ask me how my day was going-”

“What an asshole.”

You laugh. “All things considered, Ghostie, I think you’ll do just fine.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Is this why you’ve been doing the whole voice modulator thing? You’re worried I won’t be interested in you?”

“It’s one of the reasons,” Ghostie admits. “I also worried that if I did hit on you, you might think I was only trying to get you into my bed, which, yeah, it would be nice, but… as perfect as your body is, it’s not the most interesting thing about you.”

What a scrumptious take; A guy calling you up and using anonymity to prove to you that this connection isn’t only about sex. 

Your heart softens.

“Ghostie, you might be one of the sweetest guys I know,” you admit.

“More than your best friend Mark Lee?”

You laugh. “Maybe not, Mark would never do something like this. You’re a bit of a paradox that way, aren’t you?”

“If you say so, Tiny. As much as I’ve liked this talk, I think I should let you sleep. Halloween is two days away and I’m sure we’ve both got a lot to do before then.”

“What if I don’t want you to go just yet?”

“Then I’d remind you that patience is a virtue.”

“You’re such a tease.”

“Good thing we have an emotional connection so you’ll forgive me for it. Night, Tiny.”

“Night, Ghostie.” 

Friday 

Your first shift consists of shadowing Johnny. He’s a fabulous teacher. He’s calm, patient, and very encouraging. The first few hours are a breeze, but the bar gets increasingly packed as the night goes on.

It’s a little overwhelming, but Johnny helps keep you steady. He gives you the easy drink orders, things like beer and simple cocktails. While you’re filling a cup from the beer tap, he’s busy mixing five to ten different things into one glass for items on the Halloween special menu.

There’s something sexy about a diligent worker, and his beefy arms are all bulgy and hot in his tight Skeets shirt. You can tell that a lot of girls come up to the bar specifically to order from him. There are two other bartenders, but Johnny’s line is notably the longest.

You’ve had your own share of interested men pop over to say hi. There are very few frat boys here tonight, as there’s a party in full swing in the Greek village, so most of the guys coming up to grab a beer from you are people you don’t know.

Many of them are dressed up in costumes, and it’s interesting to try to guess some of the more obscure clothing choices.

Anytime you see a man in a ghost costume, your mind shifts to your mystery caller. You wonder if he’ll pop by tonight- but other than the men already working with you, no NCT boys walk through the front door. 

No Ghostie.

There’s not one second of reprieve, but staff need breaks, and finally, just before midnight, Johnny pulls you both for a breather. 

“Are you sure the others can keep up while we’re gone?” you ask, looking back at the swamped bartenders.

“They can manage,” he assures you, guiding you through the back staffroom to a door that leads to an alleyway behind the bar. “I know I’ve kept you on longer than I thought, but it’s just been so busy. How are you holding up?”

The cool night air is a drastic difference from the heat and humidity inside, and you take a deep breath, closing your eyes and enjoying it. “I’m doing alright,” you tell him. “You’re the one making the difficult drinks.”

“I’ve been mixing cocktails for years,” he brushes it off, reaching into his back pocket. 

“Well, it shows.” You watch to see him pull out a rolled joint, and next comes a lighter.

“Want some?” he asks, lifting the joint to slot between his perfect lips. 

“Are we allowed to smoke on the job?” 

“Hyuck was prescribed Vyvanse last year, so he’s practically on coke all shift,” Johnny grins, lighting the end of the joint and taking a puff. “Besides,” he lets out a deep breath of smoke, “in the service industry, sometimes you need a little buffer.”

Skeets really is a chill place if the hiring manager smokes weed on breaks with subordinates. 

“I didn’t realize you were a stoner,” you muse.

“Most of us frat boys are,” Johnny admits, pulling the joint from between his lips. It’s placed casually between two fingers, and his other hand ruffles through his pretty hair. “It’s a nice night.”

“It is,” you nod, looking up at the sky. Stars are twinkling in the dark

“I’m glad you joined the team, not sure we would have been doing so well without your extra set of hands.”

“I’m really grateful to have been given a trial shift,” you smile softly.

“Well, just so you know, it’s more than a trial shift. You’re hired.” He nudges your shoulder gently, and your grin only grows.

“Thank you.”

Johnny takes another drag from his joint. “Sure you don’t want a puff?”

“I really shouldn’t-”

“I’m going to let you go home pretty soon after this,” Johnny tells you. “So it won’t affect your performance that much.”

You wonder if this is a test, but… at the same time, you don’t think Johnny’s the type of guy to test you this way. 

You give in, accepting the joint and bringing it to your lips. It’s been a while since you smoked one of these, and your first tiny hit leaves you coughing, passing the joint back to Johnny while you try to catch your breath.

He grins while watching you, and you get the sneaking suspicion that Johnny thinks you’re cute. 

“Thank you,” you say, coughing again.

“You’ve got good manners, don’t ya, Tiny?”

You nod, wiping at the tears that have formed in your eyes from the smoke. 

“Who... who do you usually smoke with?” you ask.

“Why? You a cop?” Johnny jokes.

“No, it’s just uh… God, I could tell you the whole story but you wouldn’t even believe me if I did,” you find yourself laughing. “Just… I didn’t know you smoked, so, I’m wondering if maybe there are a few other guys in your circle who do too.”

Johnny looks you up and down. “Like I said earlier, Tiny, almost all us frat boys partake in mari-ju-ana.”

It’s clear he’s not going to give you any information that could help you figure out who your Ghostie is. You suppose you really will just have to be patient.

In less than twenty-four hours, you’ll be finding out who your mystery caller is, and the suspense is absolutely killing you.

Friday pt 2

It’s twelve thirty when you finally get home, and you’re very tired. But at the same time, you’re awake. You take your time getting ready for bed, ignoring the loud party sounds outside and around the frat village while you wait for a call from Ghostie.

As one am rolls around, you start to realize that maybe tonight you won’t get a call.

He is a frat boy, and this is Halloween weekend. 

You’re disappointed as you get into bed, frowning as you scroll on your phone, hoping that if you wait another five minutes, maybe he’ll catch you. 

Five minutes turn into ten, turn into fifteen, and you find your eyes beginning to shut.

You’re starting to understand how much you truly have come to depend on Ghostie as part of your nightly ritual. It hurts not to get a call from your favourite voice-modulated anonymous frat boy.

You try to self-soothe by assuring yourself you’ll meet him tomorrow, but it doesn’t really help. 

Tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable, you fall into a blissless sleep.

Saturday 

You’re groggy when you open your eyes, but you still go to check your phone. There’s a missed call notification from an unknown number at three am, and suddenly you’re wide awake, bolting up in bed.

“Hey, Tiny, it’s me.”

As if it could be anyone else.

“Sorry I didn’t get a chance to call you last night. I was pretty swamped with Halloween stuff. But if it makes you feel any better, you were definitely on my mind.”

Here you are kicking your feet again.

“Probably won’t get a chance to talk to you until the party, I really do hope you come… in uh… more ways than one.”

God, he makes you wet.

“I get it if you’re a little mad at me for not calling earlier, and I promise to make it up to you when I see you, if you’ll let me.”

He’s so oddly respectful.

“But I get it if you don’t want to do anything at the party. I’ve enjoyed talking with you this week, and if that’s all it’s going to be then I won’t hold it against you. Anyways, goodnight, see you soon.”

Saturday pt 2

You feel cute tonight. You’d taken your Ghost Face mask off almost as soon as entering the frat, but the little black dress you’re wearing is enough to capture a lot of attention. 

Every frat boy that comes up to you makes your heart race, but none of them reveal themselves as your Ghostie. 

You’re actually beginning to get a little frustrated, and after two hours of floating around hoping to find your mystery man, you head with Mark to his room for a break.

Mark’s roommate, Hyuck, is sitting on his bed, bong already out and resting on one thigh while scrolls through his phone. He looks up when you enter, smirking. “Finally, smoking buddies.”

“You texted me like two minutes ago to come up here,” Mark rolls his eyes. “Have some patience.”

“Not in my nature,” Hyuck insists, setting his phone down and reaching for his lighter. “First hit is mine.”

As if you expected anything less. 

You watch him inhale the thick cloud of smoke, holding it for a moment in his lungs before he lets out a deep exhale. “Fucking hell, he groans, that was a good hit.” 

Mark takes the bong and Hyuck falls flat against the bed, closing his eyes and smiling.

“So have you found your stalker yet, Tiny?” Hyuck asks.

Your gaze flashes to Mark. “You told him?”

“He was curious why I was asking for a stoner list,” Mark defends himself. 

“Whoever the dude is, he’s got balls,” Hyuck says wistfully. 

There’s a knock on the door, and Jaehyun pokes his head inside. “Heard we’re smoking?”

“Yeah, come in!” Hyuck waves his hand, still collapsed on his bed.

The door is pushed open wider, and you catch sight of Johnny standing behind Jaehyun. Your new hiring manager flashes you a wink as they enter, and the door is shut firmly behind them. Jaehyun goes to sit with Hyuck, but Johnny approaches you, taking the seat next to you on Mark’s bed. 

“How’s your night going?” Johnny asks.

“She’s waiting for her stalker to come kidnap her and fuck her brains out,” Hyuck says loudly.

“Your stalker?” Johnny laughs.

“Some guy has been calling her all week,” Mark tries to explain.

“It sounds worse than it is,” you insist, feeling the need to defend Ghostie. “He’s only a little perverted.” 

“And you’re into that sort of thing?” Jaehyun questions, cocking his head while Mark takes a puff from the bong and hands it over.

“Not usually,” you admit. “But… this guy is different.”

“You don’t even know what he looks like,” Mark groans, collapsing in his desk chair and running an anxious hand through his hair.

“That doesn’t matter,” you insist. 

“Fucking girls, dude,” Hyuck laughs, sitting up and watching Jaehyun smoke from the bong. “You know what we need?”

“More weed?” Mark suggests.

“Yes, but also, shots.” Hyuck’s eyes shift to Johnny. “Not the shit from downstairs. The good stuff.”

Johnny lets out a chuckle. “You want something from my secret stash?”

“The tequila you brought back from Mexico,” Hyuck nods.

Jaehyun lets out a puff of smoke, holding the bong out for Johnny, who shakes his head. 

“You’re not taking a hit?” Jaehyun asks, staring at Johnny in hazy shock.

“Not tonight,” Johnny responds. Then he turns to you. “If neither of us are taking a crack at the bong, how about you come help me grab the tequila?”

“Careful, John,” Hyuck teases, “She’s not interested in you, she only has eyes for this Ghostie dude.”

Mark shoves Hyuck’s knee and Johnny simply grins. “Come on Tiny, you don’t want to get secondhand high on a night like this.”

He’s right about that, and you stand with him, heading to the door. Johnny’s so tall and broad, and you try not to stare at his shoulders, but it’s extremely difficult not to appreciate his large form. 

“What’s your costume?” you ask. 

“Oh, this?” He pulls casually at his black tshirt. “I’m a serial killer, they look like everyone else.”

“Very original,” you laugh, falling into step with the tall fratboy as you make your way down the crowded hall. 

“My room is on the top floor,” he tells you, heading to the stairwell and holding the door open for you. “I like your dress, by the way.”

“Thanks, it goes with this.” You hold up the Ghost Face mask to show it to him, and his grin widens while you climb the stairs.

“You’re gonna have to let me try that on.”

“I’m uh… I’m actually saving it for Ghostie to try,” you admit, feeling a little silly with how loyal you’re being to your mystery caller.

“He’s a lucky guy,” Johnny muses.

“Here’s to hoping it goes well,” you sigh.

Johnny doesn’t respond to your comment, and as you reach the top floor he guides you three rooms down, using a key to unlock the door before he holds it open for you. “After you, Tiny.”

The space is the same size as Hyuck and Mark’s, but it only has one bed. “I didn’t realize they had single rooms here,” you say, looking around. 

“There’s only a few, and I’ve got seniority,” Johnny explains. He closes the door behind him, walking over to the large closet. 

You take in the decorations. It’s unmistakably a frat boy's room, but much cleaner than you’re used to. There’s a gaming station, and a mini fridge that you’d guess is full of beer. A clothing rack shows off some of Johnny’s more sophisticated tastes. 

You’re curious about what else he has in his stash, so you join him by the closet, peeking inside. “We’re looking for tequila right?”

God, he has a whole shelf full of expensive bottles of booze. 

“Uh huh,” Johnny nods. “Should be in the back here somewhere.”

“Isn’t this tequila?” you ask, pointing to a bottle he’s brushed past.

“Close,” Johnny flashes a grin at you before continuing to rummage, “but no cigar.” 

You freeze. 

It’s been nearly a week since your first interaction with Ghostie, but you remember that interesting turn of phrase like it was yesterday. 

But- it can’t be. 

Johnny can’t be your mystery caller-

Can he?

“Found it,” Johnny announces, pulling an immaculate bottle of tequila out. His gaze lands on you. “You alright, Tiny? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I mean… have I?” 

He cocks his head. “What do you mean?”

“You’re…” You swallow thickly. “Are you my Ghostie?”

Johnny meets your gaze with a steady look. “Does it upset you?”

It’s not a clear confirmation, but it’s a confirmation nonetheless. 

You stare at him in absolute shock for a moment. He looks insanely gorgeous tonight, all broad, with his pretty lips- without even knowing what you’re doing, you find yourself throwing your arms around him and burying your face against his chest.

Johnny freezes, obviously startled by the sudden contact, but then he’s wrapping you in a tight embrace. One of his hands finds the back of your head, and he cradles you close.

Neither of you say anything, you simply hold each other while you come to terms with everything. 

He’s so stupid for ever thinking you wouldn’t want him-

You do want him. You want him so bad-

Pulling away from his chest, you tilt your chip up, reaching for his face. You cup his cheek while you move on your tiptoes to press your lips against his.

He appears just as shocked at this movement as when you’d hugged him, but he eases into it all the same, kissing you back gently.

But you don’t want gentle, you want him.

You’re pent up from a week of teasing, and you shift in his embrace, wrapping both arms around the back of his neck while you glide your tongue against his lip. 

Johnny lets out a groan, his mouth opening for you while his hands slip down to tug your waist closer.

The kiss deepens and now it’s your turn to release a moan, pressing your tits closer to his chest. He feels like heaven against you, and his lips are absolutely magic. His tongue glides gently against your own. You can taste beer, but it’s not unpleasant, in fact, it turns you on even more.

You thread your fingers through his hair, dragging your nails against his scalp-

“Fuck,” Johnny mutters against your mouth.

Then he’s bending down, hands grabbing at your ass and prompting you to jump. You wrap your legs around his hips and he carries you effortlessly, closing the distance to his bed.

Instead of tossing you down, he sits on the mattress and suddenly your knees are digging into his charcoal duvet. You’re on top, fingers in his hair, your tongue licking at his lip, and you’ve never felt so powerful.

It gives you the confidence to wiggle your hips a little, and you’re pleased to find he’s already growing hard in his jeans. God, he feels big- and your pussy throbs at the idea of what you’re going to do to him tonight.

You’re in a dress, and your panty-clad core feels delightful against bulging denim. Johnny’s grabbing at your bare thigh, kneading your flesh, and it makes you moan desperately. Not only is he skilled with his tongue, but his hands seem to know what they’re doing too.

Suddenly he’s grabbing at your hair, tugging you so you arch your head back, giving him access to your throat. His mouth feels amazing as he begins to lick and suck on your neck, finding your sweet spot way too easily-

“Who-” You swallow thickly. “Who gave you my number?”

Johnny laughs against your skin, pulling away to look up at you with dark eyes. “Mark did.”

“Mark?!” You’re in absolute shock now. 

“Gave it to me during finals last year,” Johnny explains. “But… we both had busy summers and…” one of his hands sneaks down to guide your hips, helping you grind against him, “I guess I wasn’t sure how you felt about me.” 

“You’re crazy!” 

“Maybe a little,” he admits. “I’m also Mark’s big, and it’s not like you and I have ever been close.”

“But you’ve liked me for a while, haven’t you, Ghostie?” 

He groans at the nickname, looking up at you with eyes full of wonder. “Longer than you know.”

You wish you could say you’ve felt the same- but in all honesty, you have always seen him as Mark’s big. As an older fratboy dad type-

The way he’s acted with you this week has inklings of that protective daddy personality you know and enjoy, but… he’s not been particularly dad-like. He’s shown you a new side of himself, and you’re so fucking happy he did.

“You know, when Mark finds out you’re my stalker he’s going to flip.”

“I wasn’t stalking you,” Johnny insists, grinning up at you as he applies more pressure to your hips, making you grind against him harder. 

“God, you even hired me for a job-”

He laughs. “It wasn’t favoritism, you had a cover letter, the bar owner was even impressed.”

“You’re so bad- this whole time you’ve been mind fucking me. I would have never guessed my Ghostie worked at Skeets.”

“Well, I do have a minor in psychology,” he admits. “Figured the best place to hide is in plain sight.”

“You even smoked a joint in front of me and I never guessed-”

“Yeah, I was playing with fire with that one,” Johnny laughs. 

“It’s funny. I was so busy thinking about being loyal to Ghostie that I was trying not to check you out last night.” 

“And I’m so lucky to have you. You wouldn’t even let me put on your Ghost Face mask, so busy saving it for Ghostie.”

“Saving myself too,” you note, grinning down at him.

“Yeah?” 

“We’ve talked every night since Sunday- I haven’t cum in over a week.” 

“Fuck, Tiny,” Johnny groans. “I guess I better help you out then.”

“Really? How are you going to do that?”

“I’ll let you stay on top for a while, let you grind against me until you’re begging for me to tear your dress off.” He pulls at the strap on your shoulder. “Then, I’ll flip you over, get on my knees, and eat you out like the good girl you are, stretching you open with my fingers.”

“And then?”

“When you’re shaking and delirious from cumming, I’ll fuck you right. Bet you’ve never really been fucked right before.”

God, you definitely haven’t. At least- you know you’ve never been fucked the way Johnny is about to fuck you.

“What if I already want you to tear my dress off?” you ask, grinding down against his cock.

Johnny lets out a low groan, grinning at you. “Tiny, you’re nowhere near begging yet.”

“I’m not?” You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his throat before your teeth drag against his earlobe. “Please, Ghostie, I’m already so fucking wet, you wouldn’t believe it-”

He laughs, hand finding your hair again. He tugs you away from his neck, pressing his lips to your own and kissing you hard.

He takes your breath away. His tongue is perfect, licking and tasting- making you moan loudly while you work your hips, swiveling on his denim-covered cock.

“Fuck, Ghostie, you’re so fucking big-”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he promises, grabbing a fistful of your ass and squeezing so hard it almost hurts. But the pain is wonderful, and you cry out in ecstasy, working yourself harder against him.

If it wasn’t for his enticing cock, you think you could make out with him like this forever. 

You just want to be naked, so you grab at your dress, intent on lifting it off-

Johnny stops you. “I’ve told you patience is a virtue, haven’t I, Tiny?”

You groan in annoyance. “John, please-”

“Ghostie,” he corrects you.

You don’t even care- you simply grab his hand, guiding it between your legs. His fingertips brush over your soaked panties, and you gasp at the feeling of him, immediately grinding down, looking for relief.

“Fuck-” you moan, closing your eyes and throwing your head back.

He begins to circle your clit through your thong and you’re forced to grab at his shoulder to steady yourself, whimpering loudly. 

“Shit, Tiny, you’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers.

“I need you,” you gasp, feeling an orgasm already bubbling in the pit of your stomach. “Please, move my panties to the side-”

Johnny doesn’t question you this time. He pulls your thong away, easily burying two large fingers into your wet, needy core.

Now you’re really gasping. You lean forward, wrapping both arms around his strong shoulders and burying your face against his throat. “Oh my God, Ghostie- don’t stop-”

“You’re going to cum from this, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

You nod desperately, swiveling your hips so your clit can rub against the palm of his hand while his fingers work you open. 

“So good,” you whimper. “So fucking good-”

Johnny groans, curving his fingers and stroking your gspot.

You squeal in his lap, thigh muscles clenching while your pussy begins to throb around the foreign intrusions. You’re so close to the edge you can almost taste it.

“Want you to cum for me. Wanna hear your sounds while you drip down my hand.” 

Fuck, he’s way too sexy, voice all low and seductive. He’s breathing hard, and you can tell you’re turning him on just from riding his fingers-

“Come on, Tiny, who’s my good girl?”

“I am-” you gasp, digging your nails into his shoulders as your orgasm hits you straight on. 

You moan loudly, burying your face against Johnny’s neck. You’re panting against his skin, wiggling your hips while his fingers continue inside of you, driving you absolutely insane. Waves of pleasure are overtaking your form, and your mind is completely blank, overwhelmed by the feeling of ecstasy that Johnny provides for you.

“That’s it,” Johnny encourages you. “So fucking good for me.”

You’re shaking on his lap by the time your high is over, and you press wet kisses to his throat, earning groans from your Ghostie. 

You reach down for your dress, lifting it up and off your body. Johnny pulls back, watching you with dark eyes. He takes his fingers out of your wet pussy, bringing them to his lips to clean. But he’s not done there, as you toss the fabric to the floor, Johnny offers you his digits next. 

You lock eyes with him for a moment before leaning forward and accepting, taking his wet fingers into your mouth and helping suck them clean. You groa at the taste of yourself. Johnny watches the motion, his free hand finding your hip and forcing you to grind down against his cock. 

“You’re so hot, Tiny,” he says, removing his fingers from your lips.

“Wait till you see me naked,” you grin, reaching behind yourself to undo your bra. 

It falls away easily, and Johnny’s large hands cup your breasts almost immediately. His head dips, eyes taking in your newly exposed skin. “Fuck, how does a girl get this perfect?”

“How does a guy get a massive cock like yours?” you counter, rubbing yourself against the front of his jeans. 

“Touche,” he chuckles, leaning down to lick your nipple. 

You thread your fingers through his hair, guiding him to show more affection to your chest, which he’s more than happy to do. His large hand cups your right breast while he worships your other with his mouth, suckling on your nipple. His teeth drag gently against the sensitive bud and you moan loudly, rocking your hips all the while.

“As much as I’d love to keep sucking on your tits,” Johnny sighs, lips moving up your throat again, “I’d rather be between your legs.”

“Ghostie, do whatever you want to me,” you instruct, feeling delightfully submissive.

“You got it, Tiny.” 

In one easy motion, he flips you so your back is on the bed. Johnny pulls away from you, sinking to his knees at the edge of the mattress before grabbing you and tugging you closer. He tears his own shirt off, giving you a great view of muscles that make you even wetter. Then he grabs your panties, sliding them down your legs so you’re completely bare for him now.

Johnny doesn’t say anything, he simply licks his lips and dives into you. His tongue parts your folds, dipping inside to taste your walls while your legs shake around his head. “Fuck, Ghostie-”

You reach down to grab his hair, applying enough pressure to his head to let him know you’re enjoying what he’s doing… if he can’t already tell from your desperately needy moans. 

His lips move to suction on your clit and a squeal escapes you, your back arching slightly at the sensation. 

You’re sensitive from having cum already, sensitive from having not cum all week only to be getting this much attention now. But you’re also probably sensitive because this is Johnny, because there’s been a build-up that’s left you ready to pop, and he seems intent on making you pop multiple times for him.

“Oh my God,” you whimper, eyes closed, abdominal muscles tensing with effort as his skilled tongue works you up again. 

Johnny groans against your pussy and it’s one of the sexiest things that’s ever happened to you. Your grip on his hair tightens, your core throbbing with pleasure already.

When he adds two fingers into your dripping hole, you know you’re not going to last, but you don’t think he wants you to.

In fact, you’d bet that Johnny himself is just about ready to explode. You can’t believe he doesn’t have his cock out yet- can’t believe he’s so intent on making you cum twice before getting any satisfaction for himself.

“Fuck, Ghostie-” You want to tell him how close you are to cumming, but you can hardly get the words out between your moans. “I’m- holy shit-”

Johnny finger fucks you even harder, his mouth focusing on your clit, and you’re pretty sure he’s understood your garbled attempt to warn him, pretty sure he wants you to cum.

You allow yourself to find your release, your back arching again as you tug on Johnny’s hair, keeping his face between your legs. You grind down slightly, your body chasing your orgasm as it surges through you like fire in your veins.

Johnny lets out a low groan again, and your entire body twitches at the extra stimulation. You’re gasping now. Nothing has ever felt this good-

To his credit, Johnny tries to help you through your entire orgasm, but he pulls away before you’re truly finished. You can feel him panting against your pussy, and when you open your eyes to look down at him, you find Johnny staring at you with the horniest expression you’ve ever seen on a man.

“Ghostie-” you whimper, shifting against his duvet. 

“Condoms,” he says, pulling his fingers out of your core and standing up.

“I’m on birth control,” you tell him quickly, making him freeze. “And if we’re both clean-”

Johnny practically moans at the idea, looking down at your body. “Does my Tiny want to be filled up all nice and good?”

Now it’s your turn to groan, and you nod, licking your lips. You sit up next, feeling your skin heat at the words you want to say, “I also… I wanna suck you off first.”

Johnny approaches the bed again, towering over you. It’s hard to focus on his eyes when his abs and strong biceps and veiny forearms are drawing your attention, but when he cups your jaw it makes things easier. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You pretty much stalked me for a week,” you tease, grinning.

Your Ghostie lets out a laugh. He doesn’t bother to check you on the word ‘stalking’ this time, even though he’s always been adamant that’s not what he was up to. It’s nice to have this little win, and as a reward for him biting his tongue, you reach out to undo his belt.

As the buckle unclasps and you move to his zipper, there’s a loud banging on the door.

Johnny looks over his shoulder and you can hear Hyuck screaming “Tequila!” 

The frat boy in front of you lifts his finger to his lips, a shushing motion, and then he reaches into his back pocket for his phone. You bet he’s going to text Hyuck some lie about not being in the room, but you’re too horny to slow down.

You get his jeans undone and you bundle your hands up in all the fabric, roughly tugging them down.

Johnny lets out a groan when his large cock slaps up against his abdomen, and he moves his phone to the side to give himself a better view, holding it with one hand while raising a brow at you.

You’re on your knees at the foot of the bed now while Johnny stands there, and you steady yourself, grabbing the base of his cock. With one last wink at Ghostie, you lean forward, kitten licking his length from balls to tip.

The man above you quickly types in the text, then tosses his phone to the side, his large hand coming down to cup your cheek. You take this as a sign to accept him into your mouth, so you do exactly that.

He’s so large and thick- you haven’t sucked cock in a while, and you’ve never sucked a cock as big as his. You know you can take your time, Johnny’s always been patient with you. 

You start by paying attention to the head, swirling your tongue around him and getting used to his size. Your eyes close, mind focused completely on your task. You’re already drooling from this, and you can feel your saliva dripping down his shaft. You smooth your thumb along the new trail of spit, helping lube your hand so you can begin to pump his cock.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, tightening his grip in your hair.

You try to sink your mouth further onto his cock, but it’s difficult. He’s just so huge-

Your pussy throbs knowing that soon, this monster dick is going to be inside of you-

Without any lube that you’ve seen so far, you want to make him as slicked up as possible, and it helps that you’re drooling from how sexy all of this is.

His cock hits the back of your throat and you gag slightly, powering through the uncomfortable feeling as you glide your tongue along his shaft. You’re not a quitter.

“Holy fuck, Tiny-” Johnny praises you. “You don’t have to try to take more than you can handle-”

But you want to. You want to pleasure him the way he’s pleasured you, and his words only prompt you to suck harder, earning more groans from the man above you.

“You’re so good at this,” he continues his words of encouragement, and they do help you take him deeper. His voice is smooth, sexy, and thankfully not modulated in any way. 

You’ve never realized how nice John’s voice really is. 

You apply more pressure with your hand, pumping him faster-

“Okay, okay-” Johnny tugs gently on your hair, prompting you to pull off of his cock and blink up at him in confusion. “I have to fuck you now. I’m done waiting.” 

You let out a tiny mewl, nodding. 

Johnny kicks off his jeans completely, pressing a knee onto the bed. He leans down to kiss you, and then he’s grabbing your body. In one easy motion, he tosses you a few feet up the mattress, so your head can land against the pillows.

God, he makes you feel truly Tiny- it’s one of the sexiest things ever.

He takes his place between your legs next, lips finding yours. One of his hands cups your cheek, and the kiss deepens, his tongue invading your mouth while your arms wrap around his strong shoulders.

You can feel his cock sliding between your pussy lips, and it’s almost embarrassing how wet you are, how much drool you’ve left on him. 

“Please-” you whimper. You can’t wait another moment either, you have to know what he feels like. You reach your hand between your bodies, grabbing his cock so you can line him up with you properly. “Ghostie, I can’t-”

He kisses you, cutting you off. Something tells you Johnny understands, and the moment you have him properly situated, he begins to push into you.

You gasp against his lips, letting go of his cock so you can grab his shoulders. He’d worked you open with his fingers two times over, but nothing compares to this. You can feel your walls stretching to accommodate his impressive girth, and it leaves you practically brain-dead.

“Let me know if it’s too much,” Johnny tells you, lips moving to your throat so he can suck on your sweet spot while he continues to burry into your hot, wet core.

You wrap your legs tightly around his hips, closing your eyes while the feeling of him overtakes you. You’ve never moaned like this before, never felt anything like Johnny-

He groans loudly against your skin, gently thrusting, coating his cock in your juices to make things easier-

The moment his hips hit flush to yours, his full cock buried inside of you, you both gasp. Johnny grabs at your hands, interlocking your fingers and pinning them to the pillows on either side of your head.

“Fuck, you’re so big, you’re so-” You can’t even think, especially not when he takes another test thrust.

His cock drags against your inner walls and you cry out, body tingling. 

“You take me so well, Tiny,” he praises you, mouth still hot on your throat. “The perfect fit.” 

You can’t speak, not now, but you can squeeze his hands and tilt your head to the side, kissing his cheek. Johnny takes the cue to bring his lips back to yours, and you’re immediately lost in yet another breathtaking makeout session.

He’s moving slow, fucking into you at a gentle pace, allowing your body to get used to his massive size. 

But you’re feeling particularly desperate, and greedy. “More.” 

“More?” He laughs. “You sure about that?”

You nod, eager to be decimated by him. “Please, ruin me-”

Johnny groans, letting go of one of your hands so he can press his palm flat to the bed, giving himself more leverage. He begins to fuck you faster, and each meeting of his cock to your core has you whimpering like a whore in heat.

“You make the cutest fucking sounds,” Johnny breathes.

Only he - with his cock making you feral - would call your noises of pleasure cute.

He’s so stupidly endearing.

“Fuck, Tiny, you’re dripping- making this too fucking easy for me.” 

It’s absolutely embarrassing how wet you are. He’s gliding into you with no issues now, and each movement is like heaven. The head of his cock hits a spot deep in your stomach- you can’t help but reach down, pressing your palm to your abdomen-

You can feel him rearranging your guts, and you both groan when you apply a bit of pressure.

“Deep, huh?” Johnny lets out a moaned chuckle. 

“So deep-” you agree, words slightly garbled. 

“I’ve just started with you and you can hardly speak,” Johnny muses. “Wonder what’s gonna happen when I make you cum again.”

You cry out desperately, removing your hand from your stomach so you can claw at his hair, bringing his lips back to your own.

You’re tired of thinking- all you want to do is experience this, experience him, at your fullest- and boy, are you fucking full.

Johnny lets go of your other hand, reaching for your thigh. He adjusts it higher on his hip and suddenly he’s driving into you even deeper.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you gasp loudly against his lips. Johnny traces his tongue along your teeth, and you can feel him smirking.

You love that he’s enjoying this- enjoying watching you come completely undone for him.

“You know,” he says, “if you keep squeezing me like that, I’m not going to last long.”

You don’t even care. You know this isn’t the only time you’ll be fucking this man- and after cumming twice already, your body is near its limit of pleasure, if that’s even possible. In fact, there’s something very sexy about making a man cum quicker than he’s used to, and your pussy clenches at the thought. 

“Fuck,” Johnny groans again. “Can I flip you over?”

At this point, you’ll agree to any request, and you nod quickly, biting at your lip.

With one last kiss, Johnny pulls away from you. His cock slips out of your core and you whine at  the loss, only for his two large hands to grab your waist and manually turn you onto your stomach. Then he adjusts your hips, pulling you up into doggy position.

“If you need to scream, use the pillows,” Johnny warns you, lining up with your pussy again.

The first thrust has you doing exactly that. You bury your face into the pillow, letting out a loud cry as his cock hits deeper than before. 

This position might just kill you, but you don’t care.

His hands feel so good- so large and warm and steady on your hips as he finds an even rougher pace.

You can hear your ass smacking loudly against his front with each thrust and it only adds to your arousal. 

Bunching your hands up in his duvet, you do your best not to be so loud that the whole frat will hear you. But it’s so difficult not to just melt under him- 

You can feel your eyes welling with pleasure-fueled tears, and it drives you crazy.

“Fuck, you like this position, don’t you, pretty girl?”

“Yes, Ghostie!” you gasp, nodding while his cock continues to make you feel like absolute heaven.

“You look fucking perfect like this,” he tells you. “Face down, ass up. Pretty soon you’ll be begging for me to fill you up even more.”

His words flip a switch inside of you. “God, yes, please-” you cry out. “I want it so bad-”

“Want what?”

“Want your cum,” you whimper. “Wanna be so full-”

Johnny groans, grabbing rough fistfuls of your ass while he fucks you even harder. 

“I need it, Ghostie, I need it-” You’re crying now, and Johnny notices.

He bends over your back, bracing an arm across your chest so he can lift you onto your knees. He cups your jaw, thumb stroking through a tear track. “Holy shit, Tiny,” he moans, mouth hot against your shoulder. 

“Please, Ghostie, please-” you whimper, lower lip trembling-

You’re so close-

Johnny lets go of your jaw, and his hand slips down your front. You jolt when his fingers make contact with your clit, wriggling in his grasp.

“I’m almost there, Tiny,” he admits. “Watching you cum will tip me over the edge- you’ll be good and cum for me, right?”

All you can do is nod. Words are gone. Your mind is blank except for the pleasure that’s coursing through you.

Your noises are getting pitchier, and Johnny works you all the way to your peak. You gasp loudly as you topple over the edge, core clamping down hard on his cock.

Your legs feel like jelly, and Johnny releases you, allowing you to fall to the bed while your orgasm ravages your form. You’re clawing at the sheets, burying your face in his bed to muffle your screams-

His hands are bruising on your hips, and you hear him let out a loud groan. You can feel him filling you up, his motions faltering ever so slightly. His breath is hot against your shoulders and it’s added stimulus that makes you twitch, so completely overwhelmed that it almost feels like you’re about to black out.

But you don’t want to miss a second of this. His groans of pleasure keep you in the moment even as your mind is in a sex daze. 

Johnny rides you through your high, thrusts slowing until he comes to a stop behind you. 

You’re both breathing heavily now, and Johnny stays still for a moment, enjoying the last of your orgasm aftershocks. Then he flattens his chest to your back, hand falling to the bed next to  your own. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes. 

You can’t help but let out a small laugh, and it makes Johnny groan as your core clenches again.

He kisses your shoulder, lips oddly tender in comparison to the way he just blew your back out. 

“Ghostie-” you whimper, wanting to collapse on his bed from exhaustion. 

“Stay still, I’ll get something to clean you up,” he assures you, pressing one last kiss to your skin before straightening from your back. 

You miss his warmth as soon as he’s gone, and you especially miss his cock when it slides out of you. 

You feel him get off the bed, and a moment later, something begins to drip down your inner thighs. He really filled you up, and it makes you twitch. You reach a hand between your legs, cupping your core and rolling onto your back on his bed, trying to breathe properly.

Johnny is back a second later, and you can feel his gaze on you.

“Spread these thighs for me, Tiny,” he says gently, touching your knee. 

You open your eyes, and then you open your legs. 

Johnny moves your hand out of the way, letting out a groan. “You have no idea how fucking hot this is-” he tells you, wiping your core clean of his cum. 

You still don’t have it within yourself to speak, you can only watch him toss the tissue in the garbage before you’re making grabby hands at him.

Johnny laughs. He sits on the bed next to you, leaning against the headboard before scooping you into his lap. He’s so fucking big, and he makes you feel safe cuddled in his arms, your cheek pressed to his chest.

His heart is still racing, and it makes you feel better to know you’re not the only one who’s so affected by this.

Johnny’s fingers begin to thread through your hair, and he simply holds you while you come out of subspace. 

The party is still in full swing outside, and it’s an interesting feeling to have such a private moment with Johnny in the middle of a frat on Halloween. 

“Do you think anyone heard us?” you ask finally.

Johnny laughs. “Don’t worry about it,” he says soothingly. 

You pull away from his chest, looking up at him. His hand moves to cup your face and you press your lips to his. It’s a much gentler kiss than he’d given you mid-fuck, and it eases your racing heart. 

“Ghostie?”

“Yeah, Tiny?” 

“I like you a lot.”

He lets out another chuckle. “I like you too.”

“We’ll do this again sometime, right?”

“Of course, Tiny.” His hand smooths up and down your back. “I’d also like to take you on dates, if you’ll let me.”

“I’d like that,” you nod, relaxing against his chest again. “And… and when you call me, no more voice modulator.”

“No?”

“I like your voice, your real voice.” God, you’re feeling so soft and mushy for him.

“I like your voice too.” For a second, it’s a sweet moment, and then Johnny continues, “Liked listening to your whimpers.”

He’s such a frat boy, but you kind of love him for it. “Did you like my tears too?”

“Only if they’re for a good reason,” Johnny says. “If anyone else ever makes you cry, I’ll have to fuck them up.”

“My protective Ghostie,” you grin, leaning up to kiss the underside of his jaw.

“As much as I’d love to stay cuddling you forever, I should probably bring the boys some tequila,” Johnny sighs.

“The boys,” you echo. “I feel like I’ve just fucked Mark and Hyuck’s dad.”

“Do you have a daddy kink, Tiny?”

“For you, I have any kink you want,” you laugh. 

“I like the sound of that.”

“Just… kiss me again?” you ask. “We can bring tequila after.”

“Are you sure you want to come with? You can stay here and I’ll come back-”

“We should…” you lick your lips, “we should be social.”

“I just fucked your brains out and you want to go be social?” Johnny grins. “Maybe I didn’t work you over well enough.”

“You worked me over perfect,” you laugh, grabbing at his jaw so you can press your lips to his.

Johnny melts into the kiss, and there’s something in it that feels like coming home. You’ve never felt this safe with a guy before, and it’s kind of starting to scare you.

If you were to stay here- you think you might even fall in love with Johnny… that is, if you haven’t already.

You pull away from your Ghostie, letting out a sigh. 

Getting out of his lap isn’t fun, and your legs are wobbly as you stand next to the bed, but Johnny’s hands go to your hips to steady you.

When he stands, he towers over you, and you’re overcome by your thirst for him all over again. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, bringing him in for another kiss. 

It’s so easy to get lost in making out with Johnny, but you have to tear yourself away, nodding, “Tequila.”

“Tequila,” he echoes. “Can you stand by yourself?”

“I’m okay,” you assure him, but it still hurts when he lets you go. 

Johnny pulls on some sweatpants while you find your dress-

“You’re not putting that back on,” Johnny tells you, moving to his closet. “Let me give you some clothes.”

“Are you trying to announce to Mark and Hyuck that we’ve fucked?” you laugh, accepting the large t-shirt he throws your way.

“Trust me, Tiny, they’ll know.”

“Yeah? How’s that?”

“After this, I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself, and something tells me you won’t be able to either.” Johnny pulls on a hoodie, grabbing the tequila and turning to you. “I know you, remember?” 

You grin, pulling on the pair of black boxer shorts he’d also sent your way. “Maybe a little too well.” 

“Or not well enough,” Johnny suggests, approaching you again.

“You’re such a sweet talker.”

“Only for you,” he smirks, leaning down to kiss you again. “You look cute in my clothes.”

“Do I look like I just got fucked senseless?”

“Definitely.” 

“Mark’s going to hate you,” you laugh.

“He’ll get over it,” Johnny brushes it off, reaching for your hand. “Ready to go?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” 

“You can still stay here if you want.”

“No, let’s face this now.” You need to be firm, need to get out of this love den before you find yourself even more loved up.

The two of you head to his door and Johnny holds it open for you. 

In the time you’ve been fucking, it looks like a lot of people have dispersed from the party, so walking through the hallway isn’t exactly a walk of shame. However, when you get down the stairs to Mark’s floor, you realize you still have to pull up your big girl panties to face him.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom,” you tell Johnny, “I’ll meet you in Mark’s.”

“You don’t want me to come with you?”

“To the bathroom?” you laugh. “I think I’m good.”

With one last kiss, you make your way to the frat bathroom at the end of the hall. It’s important to go pee after sex, for UTI reasons, your sorority big sister has drilled that into you since first year. When you’re done, you head to the sink, daring a look at yourself in the dirty mirror.

You look fucked, but you also look happy. 

In fact, you can’t stop smiling. 

After washing your hands, you dab some water on your throat, hoping it will calm you down. Once you feel good and ready, you exit the bathroom.

Mark’s door is open when you get to his room, and you poke your head inside. 

Jaehyun and Hyuck are on one bed, Mark and Johnny on the other, and they’re all lifting shots to their mouths. As you step inside, Mark’s gaze shifts to you. He takes in your new outfit and his eyes widen, then he spits out his shot, coughing loudly. 

Johnny’s hand finds Mark’s back while he practically coughs up a lung, and then Mark is leaping to his feet. “What-” His eyes dart between you and Johnny, and you can see the realization there. 

“Jesus, Mark, learn how to handle a shot,” Hyuck scoffs.

Mark doesn’t even entertain Hyuck, he simply turns to his big, pointing an accusatory finger at Johnny’s chest. “You’re Ghostie!?”

Johnny stands up. “You’re the one who gave me her number last year.”

“I what?!” Mark’s eyes are practically bulging out of his head now.

Hyuck and Jaehyun exchange a look, and Hyuck reaches for the tequila to pour another shot.

“Mark, it could be worse-” you say, trying to de-escalate the situation while stepping further into the room.

“How could it be worse!?” Mark bellows. “My Big is a stalker!”

“He’s not a stalker,” you defend Johnny, coming to join your tall new lover, your hand reaching for his.

“You’re her new boss!” Mark insists.

“Hyuck fucked our last bar manager,” Johnny points out.

“Guilty,” Hyuck smirks over the rim of his new shot.

Mark’s still not having any of this situation. “This is fucked up.”

“Mark, I’ve told you a million times, it’s spooky season.” You can’t help but giggle. This has been such a turn of events, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“You better not hurt her,” Mark says next, trying to meet Johnny’s gaze even while substantially shorter. 

“I won’t,” Johnny promises. 

“This is just-” Mark shakes his head. “Fuck this, I need to sleep.”

“We can move the party to my room,” Jaehyun says, already grabbing the bottle of tequila while Hyuck reaches for his bong.

It’s clear Mark’s done talking, and he collapses onto his bed face first like a tantruming toddler. You’ll discuss this with him another day, but you know now is probably not the time to push him to accept that his Big has a whole different side to him that Mark’s never seen. 

As you leave the room with Hyuck, Johnny and Jaehyun, Hyuck elbows you in the side. “I always knew you’d end up with one of us.”

“Yeah?” you laugh, gaze shifting to Johnny and Jaehyun who walk a few feet ahead of you.

“Once an NCT girl, always an NCT girl,” Hyuck nods. “And between us…” he leans closer, “Johnny is a good one.”

Your Ghostie looks over his shoulder at you, and you meet his gaze with a smile. “He is,” you agree. “Hey, John?”

“Yes, Tiny?” He stops at the door to the stairwell, holding it open and allowing you to catch up.

“I changed my mind, I think I am done with the party tonight.”

“Yeah?” Johnny smirks. “Gonna come back to my room?”

“If you invite me.”

“Tiny, my room has an open-door policy for you now.”

“Is that so?” you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

“Uh huh,” Johnny grins. “And free cuddles, anytime you want them.”

“I like the sound of that,” you confess. 

“Just get married already!” Hyuck shouts back at the two of you as he climbs the stairs with Jaehyun. 

You and Johnny can only laugh at Hyuck. Your willpower is completely gone, and you allow your Ghostie to take you back to his room. 

He cuddles you close as the party dies down outside, and you find yourself slipping into the best sleep of your life on Halloween night with your Ghostie by your side.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! Halloween is my favourite Holiday, and there's something about Johnny and horror genre that makes me go feral

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. There’s no way he should be this fucking sexy. You’re outside in the cold, parkas on, a Santa hat on his head, a joint between his lips,  both your jeans down to your knees, his hand over your mouth to stifle your moans, and he’s about to fuck you against a wall with his massive cock- you’ve decided that Johnny as a whole is simply illegal.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, exhibitionism in an alley, weed use, slight temperature play, big dick Johnny, quickie, cum kink/filling panties with cum while at work, praise, dirty talk, size kink, hand over mouth silencing, choking, etc… I pet names: (hers) Tiny, pretty girl, good girl. (his) Ghostie.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.5k I teaser wc. 275

🌙 staring. Johnny x afab!reader

bonus

You’ve been dating Johnny for a month and a half and you still can’t get enough of him. Whenever you pop over to the frat, it’s not long before one of you is dragging the other to his room. There’s never been sexual chemistry like there is for you and your Ghostie.

You’d never thought your biggest hurdle in the workplace would be refraining from jumping your bar manager, but here you are, every shift, practically drooling over him. Each brush of his hands across your body as he moves behind you to grab something makes you want to tear his clothes off, and your patience is at an all-time low. 

With Christmas fast approaching, the bar scene has substantially dwindled, and it’s making you even more needy. When Skeets only has a handful of customers, you fill drink orders while thinking about sucking on Johnny’s cock. 

It doesn’t help that he’s started wearing a Santa hat- why does it make him even sexier?

As Johnny smiles and makes casual conversation with a pair of girls sitting at the bar, you do your best to calm yourself. At the end of the night, you’ll be the one in Johnny’s bed, you just have to get to closing.

You notice in the periphery of your vision that the girls are finishing up with their drinks. Johnny excuses himself to grab the card reader, and as he slips past your ass, you feel his hard cock in his jeans. It’s difficult to stifle a moan, and you do so by biting on your lip. 

He loves teasing you, especially while you’re at work, and it drives you absolutely mental.

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[internetskiff]

The most powerful ability exclusive to humanity in the Half Life/Portal shared universe is our ability to just throw bullshit at the wall and see what sticks. Aperture "OSHA are the devil" Science have managed to create completely safe interconnected points in space. The same company that turns people's blood into gasoline and shoves lions and humans into the same enclosed space for the vague concept of "Science". Meanwhile Black Mesa still has to use Xen as a crossing and their teleportation device requires an entire reactor with a village's worth of staff constantly maintaining it, just to end up having most of said staff abducted by onion-headed aliens. Even the resistance hasn't managed to create completely stable teleporters with a compressed Xen relay, meanwhile Aperture just went "oh dude let's shove a black hole into a non-waterproof gun" and have just created a teleportation method that just removes Xen from the equation entirely. Doesn't change the fact they bullshat so bad they basically got themselves gassed to death, but still.

The Resistance are a good example of this too. The Combine seem to have a complete set-in-stone thought process and understanding of science which meant they didn't even begin to explore local teleportation via Xen, meanwhile a group of random human mechanics and scientists have managed to cobble together at least two semi-functional local teleporters out of scrap metal and stolen Combine tech, to the point the All-Consuming Interdimensional Empire had to straight up copy their homework. And that isn't even the only time they seem to be taking human shit to just copy the blueprints.

They 100% just yoinked the entire damn car out of that garage just to take a crack at reverse-engineering the Tau Cannon attached to it. Even Resistance weaponry somehow manages to rival or at least stand equal to Combine tech - and we're talking improvised crossbows that shoot superheated rods of rebar at the target compared to high-tech rifles that can discharge orbs of pure dark energy. The collapse of the entire Citadel is basically set into motion as a result of a cobbled together Rebel device placed into extremely capable hands.

The events of the Portal games are a case of extremely elaborate machinelike planning versus pure human improvisation, with Chell's entire escape in the first game involving her simply weaseling her way through small cracks that GLaDOS missed while setting up her ambushes, eventually turning her own rocket turret against her to destroy her.

I suppose you could argue this falls flat in Portal 2 with Wheatley, but it's important to remember he's designed to be an utter idiot, so it's safe to say he wouldn't obsess over the larger picture like GLaDOS to the point where he fails to see the cracks. Yes, he's the one that breaks Chell out of the test chambers again, and yes, he's the one that came up with the sabotage plot - but it's important to note while he knows what to target in the sabotage, when we actually get there he doesn't quite know how to sabotage it, leaving Chell to figure it out on her own. She botches the Turret Quality Control Line with some minor guidance, but it's basically completely up to her to figure out how to cut off the Neurotoxin Supply. It's through her improvisation that Wheatley even manages to get into GLaDOS' chamber, tumbling through her neurotoxin vent and shattering the glass cage she trapped Chell inside of. It's through Chell's improvisation that the Core Transfer even occurs in the first place.

The script is flipped specifically when Wheatley takes charge, because oops - turns out a mind capable of focusing on the bigger picture might be pretty important when it comes to running an entire facility powered by it's own Reactor. Wheatley just completely zeroes in on his own personal pleasure, hacking up test chambers and the objects within them to try and figure out the easiest way to get his solution euphoria as quick as possible.

Still, something that's pretty interesting is that only Wheatley has ever managed to create a trap that's impossible to foresee and avoid, something GLaDOS has repeatedly failed to do to the point she ends up commending him. I believe this is because his way of thinking is a lot closer to Chell's compared to GLaDOS'. He puts up way more of a fight as the two run through the facility trying to get to him, seemingly improvising on the spot just like Chell has been over the course of the two games. Even his lair would be impossible to survive if it weren't for a single Conversion Gel pipe he somehow failed to notice and remove.

Whether in a laboratory deep beneath the soil or an alien tower tall enough to split the clouds, the ingenuity of even a single person is enough to topple a tower or destroy a supercomputer 3 times over.

Marc Laidlaw put what I'm trying to say into a single sentence when writing for the BreenGrub twitter account:

"The superstructure is riddled with cracks."

[toadslug]

I FINISHED IT!! Here are my silly opinions for the silly dragon series 🥰 Character names, explanations, and template below the cut:

★ Favorite character: Clay

Clay has been my favorite character since I read his book!! I think his character goes a lot deeper than how some of the fandom treats him (his character arc is amazing), and he's also just a really nice guy.

★ Liked by everyone but me: Queen Ruby

I have no idea why I don't like her 😭 I think the way she treated Peril just kind of pissed me off when I was a kid, and I've never been able to shake the grudge. It's not her, it's me. I almost put Bumblebee here instead (I can't fault her for acting her age, but her screaming can get tiresome).

★ Didn't like at first: Fatespeaker

I considered putting Glory here, but I only started to hate her when that was the popular thing to do (I'm back to liking her now). I immediately didn't like Fatespeaker... Probably because I was rooting for Sunny x Starflight at the time 😬 I PROMISE I'm not like that anymore omg, I was, like, nine. I've come to value Fatespeaker a lot more; her character is surprisingly interesting to pick apart.

★ Would like to know more about: Hailstorm

There's so many characters I want to know more about!! Gill!! Tau!! Riptide!! Moray!! Osprey!! Sora!! Literally any MudWing character!!! But I went with Hailstorm. I adore the cool, supportive big brother energy he radiates, and seeing him trying to fit back into IceWing society (and maybe go through a teensy identity crisis) would be interesting.

★ Least favorite character: Sky

Honestly, I don't really have a least favorite character...? There's Whirlpool, of course, but that's too easy. I ended up choosing Sky 🤷‍♀️ I liked him enough in Dragonslayer, but he annoyed me in The Flames of Hope. I feel like he became a lot louder and more brash.

★ Like the design, dislike the character: Vulture

His dragon skull tattoos and the gimmick for them is so sick?? Why is this grandpa more stylish than me and everyone I know??? His design is great, but everything to do with him and his crime ring felt a little out of nowhere to me. It's been a while since I've read Darkness of Dragons, so maybe I'm just not remembering everything? But yeah. I wish he was introduced better.

★ Like the character, dislike the design: Luna

I like Luna!! And I like how she looks on her book cover, too (the rendering on her is drop-dead GORGEOUS). But the rest of her appearances in canon art... ehh.

These shades of green are making me feel things. And the spots on her wings look kind of awkward to me.

★ Favorite ship: Jambu x Pineapple

I was really close to putting Clay x Peril here because of how OBSESSED I was with them as a kid (shout-out to the Demons Peril PMV by Echosplash Animations that saved my life); however, Jambu x Pineapple is the only ship in the series that got me kicking my feet. The flashback to them cuddling in the hammock melted my heart 💖 Luna x Swordtail, Tamarin x Anemone, and Mangrove x Orchid are also my beloved. Honestly, though, I'm not that involved with shipping anymore.

★ Would never befriend IRL: Sundew

I like Sundew as a fictional character, but I would be slightly scared of her if she was real. She probably wouldn't like me.

★ Would befriend IRL: Umber

He just seems chill. I don't think he'd prod me to do stuff or talk, and I like people like that... People who can just let you exist. I feel like he'd tolerate my cringey humor, too.

★ Similar personality: Clearsight

I am NOWHERE near as girlboss as her, but I can relate to constantly worrying about future situations that may or may not happen 😁���

★ Least favorite ship: Burn x Scarlet

Sorry toxic yuri ☹️ I just don't ship Burn with anyone.

*This template wasn't my idea; I took the original template and modified it to my liking.

[haologram]

how to be a latin lover ♡ h.js (teaser)

♡ synopsis: the dreadful semester has started — meaning your summer vacation has come to end, and so has your summer fling…or has it? ♡ genre: summer fling au ; big dummy dumb idiots to lovers ; ta x student dynamics. ♡ pairing: spanish ta!joshua hong x chaebol!fem!reader | side pairings: lee chan x jung haerim (weki meki) ; wen junhui x lee saerom (fromis_9) ♡ word count: 2.4k | full fic: tba because i don't fucking know. ♡ rating: 18+. minors do not interact, i beg. ♡ warnings: honestly, a little toxic if you squint. lots of pining. hella slow burn. [official warnings: joshua and y/n are absolute idiots. i'm talking the dumbest mfs you've ever encountered, you'll want to scream at them through the screen.] ♡ what to listen to: otro atardecer - bad bunny, the marías ; get to you - mac ayres ; more to come.

Friday, September 16th.

It'd been a little more than a week since you met with Joshua in the library.

And since the two of you officially acknowledged that you'd slept together. What you didn't know was, while he was having his own feelings about the history that weighed the two of you down, he wasn't going to force you to return his affections. In fact…he even felt a bit silly, liking you so much off of three weeks of getting the full experience of…well, you.

Better yet, he wasn't even going to tell you there are any residual feelings on his end. If he knew anything, it was you and your type. If he came off too strong – flowers, a date, chocolates and the like, he'd scare you off even more. You were skittish, like a deer, and he had to either slowly gain your trust…

Or irritate the living hell out of you every chance he got.

Subtle flirting, double entendres, maybe the occasional lingering look. He knew that if he wanted a chance, and man did he want it – he was going to have to work for it. No problem, though. You were definitely worth the wait.

"So, as you can see, the proper conjugation is hablar, not hablando." His laser pointer is steady at the bottom of the projector screen, and he looks up to see half of the class staring intently and the other half jotting down notes. You were neither of the two – your head was resting on Chan's shoulder, eyes low. He cleared his throat, your head jumping up and a wince crossing your features.

Joshua knew Chan was really no threat. The fraternity really liked him, and he was set to move in this weekend. According to Chan's Instagram story, you'd been at his dorm the night before helping him pack up. Saerom had also been there, and Soonyoung – another Beta Tau member. You had been holding a can of Red Bull and in one of the following videos, you were shotgunning another.

"Any questions?" He calls out, and Haerim shoots her hand up. "Yes, Haerim?" "Since this is a conversational class, how would we ask someone out? Or, for their number?"

The classroom fills with childish snickering, and Joshua just smiles as he shakes his head. "Well, I-" "I don't think this is an appropriate question, to be honest." Your voice is heard from the back of the classroom, and Haerim turns in her chair, a wicked smile crossing her lips as Joshua rounds the desk, perched on the edge of it. "And why not, Y/N?" She asks, and Joshua can see you shift uncomfortably in your chair.

"This is Beginner Spanish Conversation, not Coffee Meets Bagel. Flirt on your own time, at your own pace." You scoff, and Haerim's smile only grows wider. It's like she knows something about you, and Joshua notices you begin to bristle slightly. "Why are you so uptight about it, Y/N? It's just a question." "I'm paying for this class, as is everyone else. I think I'd like to appreciate my money's worth by learning something I'll actually use." "Alright, ladies. Honestly, Miss Y/N is partially correct. This is not Café y Rosquilla, but I do think that this is…a learning moment. Asking someone out does involve conversation, you know." Joshua attempts to diffuse, but he can see your subtle annoyance at his siding with Haerim. "So, for example, if I wanted to ask out…" He looks around the room, before a flash of diablerie crosses his eyes. "If I wanted to ask out Miss Y/N, I'd have to make conversation. I'd say…eres muy bonita." "Yeah?! What else?!" You hear Myungjun shout from the far left side of the room, and you can feel Chan's knee bumping yours. You scowl at him, earning a smile as he hides in his hoodie. "I'd say…" Joshua scans your face, and he knows you're probably embarrassed. Embarrassed, but enjoying his subtle attention. He pushes off the desk, pacing in front of the students. "Hm, I'd probably say I like her dress, or me gusta tu vestido."

He watches you cross your legs, tucking the extra fabric of your black dress under your thighs. "Okay, but how do you ask her out!?" Haerim interrupts excitedly, and Joshua is on the first step of the stairs before he catches your eyes again.

"You don't just ask someone out flat out like that. You build repertoire, you make conversation." He rolls his eyes playfully, and you think you're about to get off without any further embarrassment when you hear Chan speak up next to you. "How much repertoire can you even build at this point? Psychology says it only takes two minutes to decide if you like someone." Joshua sees you gape at Chan, before pinching his bicep. Chan pouts in your direction, rubbing his arm as Joshua holds back a laugh. "Psychology also says that there are five components to figuring out if we will have a crush on someone. Physical attraction, proximity, similarity, reciprocity and familiarity. Miss Y/N is very pretty, so physical attraction is checked off. Proximity is also checked, as we see each other three times a week for this class." "What about similarity?" Myungjun pipes up again, making you sink lower in your seat. Joshua is enjoying making you squirm a bit, and he steps up a few more. "Hm, I think that's something I'd have to figure out. Tell me, Miss Y/N, do you enjoy…long walks on the beach?" Your eyes are full of fire, and you'd be almost scary if he didn't notice the way your lip wanted to twitch into a smile. Haerim shouts for you to answer the question, making you send her a scornful look – and she just sticks her tongue out at you like a child. "I do…enjoy long walks on the beach."

"What a coincidence, so do I! Now, we have a similarity. Miss Y/N is familiar, because again, I do see her quite often. Now, it's about reciprocation. This is when you ask the question, this is when you try and make a move." "Shua, how do we make the move!?" Chan asks, and you kick his shin, about to tell him to shut up when Joshua finally reaches your row. He's looking you dead in the eyes, his hand gently wrapping around the edge of your desk. He leans forward, and you can hear the stupid woo-ing of your classmates. "Señorita Y/N, ¿le gustaría salir conmigo?"

Somehow, this all feels like some stupid romcom for the both of you. The class is egging you both on, and Chan is next to you with the most idiotic smile you'd ever seen. You huff, the class is now chanting for you to agree to said…"fake" date.

"No." You say quietly, and Joshua feigns pain. He holds his hand to his heart, a pained expression on his face. "You wound me, Miss Y/N."

He turns to the class, all of which are giving you the dirtiest look ever. "Now, now. This was just an example, don't look at her like that." He scolds, and the class turns back to face the front as he barrels down the steps, checking his watch. 

"Shit, it's already ten past noon. You guys are free to go, and if any of you are taking Psych with Professor Seo Jungkwon, tell him I fulfilled his lecture for the day." This earns a laugh from the class, except you. You're angrily stuffing your laptop into your bag, the class eagerly exiting the room. Chan is holding your arm, apologizing most likely, but you don't seem like you want to hear any of it. By this point, Chan looks a bit like a kicked puppy as he quickly takes the steps down, with you following slowly behind him.

Chan is out the door by the time you make it to the last step, and the classroom is empty.

You arms are crossed as you approach the desk, where Joshua is quietly shutting down the projector. His eyes don't meet yours as he disconnects the machine from the wall, winding the cord up to tie together. "Y/N." He calls gently, and you huff angrily. He bites back a smile.

"Why do you insist on embarrassing me? The first week, it was you running your mouth to my best friend. Last week, you practically held Jeonghan at gunpoint to apologize to me. Today, it's putting me on blast in front of an entire classroom with people I will continue to see for the rest of the year."

"Oh? Was it embarrassing?" He's nonchalant as he looks up, tucking the wrapped cables behind the projector. Your eyes are narrowed, and it seems you've caught onto his little game. "Do you get off on this or something? Knowing you fucked one of your students?" "Hm, not necessarily. And none of what was done was done to embarrass you, per say. It's just decent honesty, and we both know you deserved an apology for Jeonghan's behavior." He states matter-of-factly, making you purse your lips. "What about your behavior? You asked me out in front of all these people!" You gesture to the empty room, and Joshua gives you a small smile. "And you rejected me in front of all of those people. The way I see it, it's a teaching moment."

He's on the same side of the desk as you now, resting against it as you complain. HIs smile seems to be getting under your skin, because you grab his shirt by the collar, pulling his face close to yours before you speak through gritted teeth. "Use someone else as your stupid guinea pig. I don't want to be with you, Hong." You're holding him so close, your lips just barely brushing his. He can't help but scan your face quickly, his hand reaching to brush a stray curl off your face. Your eyes follow his fingers, feeling them tuck the hair behind your ear before he swallows carefully. You can feel your stomach flip slightly as his hand drops, ghosting over your hip as he pushes off the desk, making you slightly stumble back. His fingers grab you gently, pulling you flush to him before his nose is touching yours. "Tell me you don't want me," He whispers, his breath hitting your lips making your lashes flutter closed as you press your lips to his. A whimper escapes his throat as he kisses you back, his grip tightening as your hand lets go of his shirt, your palm resting against his stomach as your other hand holds his waist. The kiss is slow but desperate, your tongue licking into his mouth in the way that drove him crazy over the summer. 

He can't help himself, his hand moving to tangle in your hair, moving his lips down your jaw and exposed neck. A sharp inhale from you as he reaches one of the many sweet spots he'd discovered, a soft whine sounding in his ears making him feel dizzy as he nips at your skin. Pulling back, he holds your face close to his as he speaks again. "Tell me you don't want me, and we can stop this right now. I'll be nothing but professional for the rest of the semester."

He can tell that wasn't what you were expecting. Your eyes are wide and full of mixed emotions, but overall, they flash with a bit of fear. "I…" Your hands move to rest on his hips, a frown on your lips as you let go, and he does the same. His arms cross with an expectant look on his face, and you grimace.

"Stop embarrassing me in front of people, and if you don't have a good reason to talk to me or be near me, don't engage at all." 

He gives you a nod, his smile reappearing as he reaches to wipe your lip gloss from his lips. "That being said, I'm guessing you will not be attending office hours tonight?" Huffing, you look away. "No. I have to help Chan move into the frat house with you and your hooligan friends."

"So I'll see you tonight anyway." He speaks with a grin, and you tongue your cheek. "Leave me alone, Joshua."

You spin on your heel, but his arm is on your elbow before you can walk away. He pulls you back, pulling you into a hug, pressing his lips to your hairline as you hesitantly wrap your arms around him. He speaks against your hair, "One more. For the road."

"Joshua." You groan, trying to hide the giddy feeling spreading in your stomach. He smiles at you, planting a kiss to the tip of your nose. "Just one, and I'll let you slam out of here like we were arguing."

You roll your eyes, but let him slot his lips with yours, the minty taste of him still lingering from the previous kiss. This one is much gentler, the warmth of his body against yours comforting as he pulls away with a chaste kiss. And another. And another.

"You said one." You grumble, swatting at his side to make him let you go. He smiles, his thumb coming to wipe at your lips. Your lipgloss is gone entirely, just glitter remaining. "Mmh. I'll see you later." "Whatever." You pull away from him, and he watches as you slam your way out of the classroom, a few students from your class still lingering in the hallway catching his eye. They look questioning, but he just shrugs as the door closes. He sighs as he looks around the empty lecture hall, a glimmer on the third step up calling his eyes. 

Making his way towards the steps, he sees the gold plating of a seven-pointed star, a message engraved in the back. 

For my brightest star, Y/N.

Picking it up, the diamonds mock him.

He feels slightly stupid to think this is fate, while knowing that once you realize it's gone, you'll be panicking. It seems nothing is really going right for you these days – your car being hit, fighting with Saerom, not being able to stand your ground against him…and now your necklace is 'gone'. He wants to be selfish and say it's because you're being a bit of a jerk to him.

So he'll believe that.

haologram © 2024 || no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[estellan0vella]

Look For Me: H.HJ Hwang Hyunjin x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 14.5K

CW: Reader pushing herself, Minho and Jisung are bad friends at one point, Hyunjin talking like a poet (bc I firmly believe this man is a ROMANTIC) General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist

The dance studio pulses with energy, the bassline thumping through the sound system like a heartbeat. Fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow over the polished wooden floor, reflecting the faint sheen of sweat on your skin. You like the sharpness of it. The way it keeps you focused, stripping away distractions until it's just you and the music.

Your outfit is as much a statement as it is practical. Black yoga shorts hug your hips, a matching bandeau crop top leaves your midriff bare, and fishnets climb your legs, emphasizing their length with every step in your sleek black heels. The silver rings on your fingers catch the light as you adjust your cap, the coiled snake on your middle finger glinting like it has a life of its own.

From the corner of the room, Minho groans dramatically, sprawled on a precarious tower of mats like some lazy prince. His cherry-red hair looks like he's been running his hands through it, the undercut sharp and catching the light whenever he shifts.

"You know, Kappa Tau's throwing a fucking banger tonight. Gorgeous sorority girls everywhere, probably in those stupid glittery tops and mini skirts that ride up just enough. And here I am, sitting on my ass, watching you prance around."

You pause mid-stretch, your hands resting on your hips as you arch an unimpressed brow at him. "Prance?" you echo, your voice sweet but sharp as a whip. "This is art, Minho. A performance. And no one asked you to stay."

"Christ," Jisung mutters, slouched beside him with his oversized iced americano. His dark hair flops into his eyes as he nudges Minho's ribs with a sharp elbow. "She's got the showcase coming up, you dick. Ever heard of being supportive?"

Minho rolls his eyes, throwing his arms out wide in a mock display of virtue. "Supportive? That's me. Mr. Fucking Supportive. Someone print it on a badge."

You tilt your head at him, lips curving into a smile that's all teasing softness, your tone sugary sweet. "You're here, aren't you? That's more support than I expected."

Minho groans and flops back dramatically. "Fuck off. Both of you."

The opening chords of Dirty Diana ripple through the speakers, low and seductive, and you stride to the centre of the floor like you own the room. Your steps are deliberate, the click of your heels sharp against the floor. You pause there for a beat, letting the music seep into your bones, before rolling your shoulders and starting to move.

Every motion is precise, fluid, calculated. When you twist your hips, the fishnets catch the light, and when you step, it's with the kind of confidence that could break hearts.

"Holy shit," Jisung breathes, sitting up straighter. "Okay, yeah. You're killing it."

You spin on your heel, perfectly on beat, and as you glide by, Jisung stretches out his arm, holding your iced latte like it's some kind of peace offering. "Sip?" he asks, grinning like a kid.

Without breaking stride, you lean forward, the straw meeting your lips. The sip is quick, your eyes catching his as you pull away, and then you spin off again, your hair brushing your shoulders. Jisung whoops so loudly it echoes.

"Jesus fuck," Minho mutters, propping himself up on his elbows. "Can't believe I'm fucking sober for this shit."

"You're welcome to leave," you throw over your shoulder, arching a brow as you twist your torso in a smooth, deliberate stretch. Your silver hoops catch the light when you lean to the side, and Minho's gaze follows the motion before he snaps out of it.

"Nah, someone's gotta make sure you don't break your neck in those ridiculous shoes. Purely a safety measure."

You smirk, dropping into a deep stretch to touch your toes. The pull feels divine, your muscles warm and pliant. "You're a goddamn saint, Minho."

"You're goddamn right I am," he deadpans, making Jisung choke on his coffee.

As you rise, Jisung gestures at you with his cup. "Hey, seriously though. What's with the switch-up? You're usually all bubblegum pop and shit. Now it's, like..." He waves vaguely at the speakers. "Stripper territory."

"Range, Ji," you reply, smoothing your top. "I need range."

"Range, huh?" He snorts, slouching back against the mats. "What's next? A fucking waltz in stripper heels?"

"Maybe. Gotta keep you guessing."

The routine picks up again, this time with more intensity. You drop to the floor at the build, your knees sliding smoothly against the wood. When the beat hits, you spread your legs, arching your back as your head tips back, the movement fluid and hypnotic. Your hand trails slowly down your body before you twist and rise, heels clicking as you transition into the next move.

Jisung lets out a low whistle, muttering, "Holy fucking shit."

"Fucking hell," Minho echoes, blinking like he's trying to recalibrate.

You ignore them, the music consuming you completely. When the song fades and you're left panting, hair sticking to your damp skin, Jisung and Minho break into loud, raucous applause.

"You should seriously consider stripping," Minho says, pushing himself upright and grabbing his water bottle. His grin is sharp and teasing. "You'd make so much goddamn money."

You shrug casually, wiping the sweat from your brow. "Maybe I will."

Minho nearly spits his water. "Fuck, I was kidding."

You flash him a smile. "Relax. So was I."

Jisung grins, swirling the ice in his cup. "Hey, you should add a crawl in there somewhere."

You glance at him, one brow lifting. "A crawl?"

"Yeah," he says, miming the motion poorly. "Sex appeal and all that."

"He's not wrong," Minho adds, deadpan. "Sex sells, sweetheart."

You hum thoughtfully, leaning down to snag your latte. The movement is slow, deliberate, and when you rise, you flick a teasing glance at both of them. "Noted."

The music kicks in again, and you lose yourself once more. Minho and Jisung stay sprawled on the sidelines, alternating between hyping you up and throwing in unsolicited commentary. You can't help the laugh that escapes you mid-routine when Minho yells, "Fucking nailed it!" as you drop into a split.

When the song finally ends, you're breathless and flushed, the room echoing with the sound of your panting and their whistles.

"Shit, you're gonna destroy at the showcase," Minho says, softer this time, his grin lopsided but genuine.

Jisung raises his coffee in a mock toast. "To our star. Just don't forget us little people when you're famous."

You smile, sweet and sincere, as you gather your things. "Never," you promise. "You're stuck with me."

The three of you linger in the studio, the air warm with laughter and bass, none of you in any rush to leave. This is your time, your sanctuary. And with them beside you, it's perfect.

The Alpha Phi frat house is chaos, as always. The faint hum of a game console buzzes from the corner of the living room, punctuated by the sound of Felix yelling, "What the fuck, Changbin?!" as Changbin's character delivers a devastating blow.

Felix is half-sitting, half-sprawled on the floor, his legs stretched out like a kid while Changbin perches on the edge of the couch, laser-focused, the controller a deadly weapon in his hands.

Across the room, Chan lounges on the couch, one foot propped up on the coffee table, earbuds jammed in as he scrolls through his phone. His lips move faintly like he's mumbling lyrics under his breath, probably tweaking music tracks for the millionth time.

Seungmin leans against the arm of an old recliner that's seen far too many frat house disasters, flipping through a thick textbook with his trademark scowl. He looks vaguely disgusted, though it's unclear whether it's because of the content or the sheer existence of the people around him.

And then there's Hyunjin. He's planted right in the middle of the floor like a dramatic artist in his natural habitat, cross-legged with a massive sketchbook balanced on his lap. A pencil twirls between his long fingers, tapping rhythmically against the blank page. His dark hair falls into his face in perfectly messy strands, like it always does, because the bastard can't look not good even when he's pissed off.

"Fuck," Hyunjin mutters, dragging a hand through his hair. The strands fall back in place like it's their life's mission. His head tilts back dramatically, eyes on the ceiling like it holds the answers to all his problems.

"Creative block?" Chan doesn't even look up, one earbud still in as he scrolls.

Hyunjin shoots him a murderous glare. "What gave it away, Sherlock?"

"The way you're sitting there like a kicked puppy," Seungmin supplies dryly, not bothering to look up from his book.

Hyunjin groans and collapses backward, sprawling out on the carpet like he's been struck down by some divine force. "I'm fucked. I have this fucking project about passion and I've got nothing. I'm literally a failure."

"Finally, some self-awareness," Minho says, breezing into the room with Jisung on his heels. He's holding a mug that probably contains three parts coffee and one part his own bullshit, and Jisung, as always, has a bag of chips open and already half-empty.

Hyunjin flips him off from his spot on the floor. "I'm being serious, you dick."

"Yeah, and I'm seriously saying this is the funniest thing I've seen all week," Minho replies, taking a sip of his coffee and smirking over the rim. "The tortured artist act is so fucking predictable."

Hyunjin props himself up on one elbow, glaring. "I need something raw. Something fucking real. Everything I've done so far looks like it was churned out by some art bot."

"Sounds like a you problem," Jisung quips, flopping onto the couch beside Chan and immediately tossing a chip into his mouth. "But hey, Minho and I might have a solution."

Minho raises an eyebrow at him. "Do we?"

"Yeah." Jisung grins, leaning forward like he's about to drop the hottest gossip of the year. "Y/N."

Hyunjin frowns, his pencil freezing mid-tap. "Who the fuck is Y/N?"

"Our friend," Minho says, rolling his eyes like Hyunjin's an idiot for not knowing. "She's a dancer. She's working on this routine for the college showcase, and it's, like, fucking insane."

"Dancer?" Changbin finally swivels his chair around, abandoning the game as Felix yells, "Don't pause mid-fight, you asshole!"

"Hot as fuck," Jisung clarifies, ignoring Felix. "She's doing Dirty Diana."

Felix whistles low. "And you're introducing her to Hyunjin? Bold move."

"Why the fuck is that a bold move?" Hyunjin demands, sitting up straighter. He looks vaguely offended.

"Because you're Hwang Whore Hyunjin," Felix says, deadpan. "Like, it's your brand."

"Fuck you!" Hyunjin throws a pillow at him, which Felix dodges easily. "I'm not a fucking whore."

"Sure," Seungmin mutters, finally looking up from his book. "And the earth is flat."

Minho crosses his arms and leans against the back of the couch. "Look, if introducing him to Y/N gets him to stop stealing my half-eaten apples to sketch them, I'm willing to make the sacrifice."

"You're such a dick," Hyunjin mutters.

"And you are a fucking menace," Jisung retorts, tossing a chip at him. "Remember when you made me hold an Oreo ice cream sandwich for, like, fifteen minutes while you got the perfect angle?"

"The vision was worth it," Hyunjin insists, his tone defensive.

"No, it fucking wasn't," Jisung says, glaring. "That shit melted in my hand, and you didn't even use the sketch!"

Minho sighs dramatically. "Anyway, Y/N's our peace offering. Take her. Get inspired. Just don't ruin her."

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, mock-offended. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," Minho says. "No flirting. No fucking around."

"Why the hell would I flirt with her?" Hyunjin shoots back, sounding genuinely indignant.

Minho just snorts. "Because you flirt with everyone, Hyunjin. You can't help yourself. It's pathological."

"True," Seungmin mutters, flipping a page. "It's exhausting."

Hyunjin throws up his hands. "You guys are such dicks. I'm literally trying to work here."

"And you're gonna work when you see Y/N dance tomorrow," Jisung says smugly, his grin widening. "Minho's right, it's fucking hot. Her costume is, like, Rocky Horror Picture Show meets Moulin Rouge."

"Christ," Felix mutters, leaning back against the couch. "You guys are walking her into the lion's den."

"Shut up," Hyunjin snaps, though there's a flicker of interest in his eyes as he taps his pencil against the edge of the sketchbook. "I'll go. I'll see her. But I'm not promising anything."

"Just keep your dick out of it," Minho says bluntly, taking another sip of his coffee.

"Scout's honour," Hyunjin replies, raising one hand.

"You weren't a fucking scout," Chan says, finally looking up from his phone.

Hyunjin smirks. "Details."

Jisung shakes his head, muttering, "We're all gonna regret this."

"Probably," Minho agrees, but his grin says he's ready for the disaster. "But hey, at least I'll get to eat my apple in peace."

The dance studio is quiet, save for the hum of the air conditioner and the faint squeak of your stilettos on the polished wooden floor as you stretch. You bend forward, fingers brushing your toes, the pull in your muscles warm and satisfying after your light warm-up. The fluorescent lights above gleam off the mirrors that line the walls, casting your reflection back at you: a bold, commanding figure. 

The halter-style leather corset clings to you like a second skin, laces tight across your torso. The black gloves on your hands shimmer under the light, tiny embellishments catching flashes like sparks.

Your hotpants are short enough to make you raise a brow the first time you tried them on, and the garters attached to them stretch taut over your fishnet-clad thighs, disappearing into the tops of your heeled boots. It's a look designed to demand attention, but you're not thinking about that right now. You're focused, calm, working your muscles loose.

The sound of the door creaking open cuts through the silence, followed by Minho's voice. "You better not be dead in here, Y/N."

"And if she is," Jisung adds, his tone entirely unserious, "I'm not cleaning it up. That's Minho's job."

A small smile tugs at your lips as you glance at them in the mirror. "Still alive, thanks for the concern." You stay in your stretch, head upside down, watching their reflections as they step into the room.

Jisung's carrying a bag of chips and he's already grinning like he knows he's about to start shit. "Oh, by the way, we brought a friend. Y/N, meet Hyunjin."

You tilt your head, curious, and peer between your legs. Your hair falls forward, creating a curtain around your face, but you can still see him.

The new guy standing just inside the doorway is tall, lean, with sharp, elegant features that could probably make someone's knees weak if he so much as glanced their way. His long black hair falls past his shoulders in glossy waves, and his eyes, dark, intense, and slightly wide with surprise, are locked on you.

"Hello," you greet, cheerful but with a hint of amusement at the fact that he's still staring.

Hyunjin blinks, startled, and looks away so fast you almost laugh. "Uh, hi," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You're looking at her through her fucking legs," Jisung points out gleefully, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth. "What a gentleman."

Straightening up, you roll your shoulders, the soft leather of your corset creaking slightly with the motion. "Don't mind them," you say to Hyunjin, your voice calm and soothing, though there's laughter in your eyes. "They're always like this."

"Good to know," Hyunjin replies, his lips twitching into a small, hesitant smile. He shifts his weight, his sketchbook tucked under one arm, as if unsure where he's supposed to stand.

"Wait a fucking second," Jisung says, holding up a hand dramatically like he's just noticed something life-altering. His eyes dart over your outfit, widening. "That's what you're wearing for the showcase?"

"Is that a problem?" you ask, brushing your gloved hands over the front of your corset, smoothing invisible creases. "I'm not wearing the feather headpiece or the boa yet, but yeah. What do you think?"

"What do I think?" Minho practically chokes, gesturing wildly at your ensemble like it's a personal affront. "I think you need a goddamn blanket. Holy fuck, Y/N. Jesus fucking Christ."

"And a full-body censor," Jisung adds, nodding gravely as his gaze drops to your legs. "This is why you got that bikini wax last week, isn't it?"

You nod, entirely unbothered, as you twist slightly, stretching your spine. "Mhm. Had to. The outfit doesn't leave much to the imagination."

"Doesn't leave anything to the imagination," Minho sputters, throwing up his hands. "You can't wear that!"

"Why not?" you ask, tilting your head. There's a faint teasing lilt to your voice, but you're genuinely curious.

"Because- because-" Minho stammers, gesturing at you with such exasperation he looks like he might combust. "It's fucking indecent!"

"You look too hot," Jisung blurts out, his voice half a groan. "Do you have any fucking clue how many people are going to be watching you? Guys are gonna lose their minds."

"That's kind of the point," you reply. "It's a performance. I'm supposed to grab their attention."

"Well, you're grabbing something, all right," Jisung mutters, rubbing at his temples as if he's suddenly developed a headache. "Holy shit, this is a fucking hazard."

Hyunjin clears his throat, and for the first time since entering, his voice cuts through the noise. "It's bold." He steps further into the room, his eyes scanning you with an intensity that's equal parts artist and something else entirely. "It fits the song. Definitely makes a statement."

You blink, slightly surprised by the evenness in his voice. "You think so?"

Hyunjin nods, his expression serious as he looks you over like you're a painting he's trying to dissect. "Yeah. It's provocative, but not trashy. It's striking. It suits you."

Your cheeks flush slightly at the unexpected compliment, but you smile anyway, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Thanks. That's exactly what I was going for."

"Don't fucking start," Minho groans, pointing a finger at Hyunjin. "Do not flirt with her. We're barely ten minutes into this."

"Relax," Hyunjin says, a smirk curling his lips. "I'm just making an observation."

"You'd better keep it that way," Jisung warns, his tone sharp. "This is sacred fucking ground, man. Don't ruin it."

Hyunjin raises his hands in mock surrender, but his smirk only deepens. "Scout's honor."

"You were never a fucking scout," Minho snaps, and Hyunjin shrugs, unapologetic.

You laugh softly, the tension breaking under the sound. "It's fine, guys. He can stay. I'd actually like to hear what an artist thinks of my routine."

"Oh, you'll hear it," Jisung mutters darkly. "He never shuts the fuck up."

"I'll behave," Hyunjin promises, though the glint in his eyes says otherwise. "Swear on my sketchbook."

"God help us," Minho mutters, dragging a hand down his face. "Fine. But if he gets weird, Y/N, we're kicking him out."

You smile at their antics, amused, and gesture toward the mirrors. "All right, sit down and let me know what you think."

As they settle into a corner, the buzz of conversation fades into a soft hum. You move to the centre of the room, the feel of the polished floor under your heels grounding you. The air feels different now, electric, like a storm brewing. You inhale deeply, rolling your shoulders as the music starts, and then you lose yourself in the rhythm.

The Alpha Phi living room is its usual chaotic self, a swirling mess of noise and energy. Jeongin is sprawled on the couch like a cat, scrolling through his phone while his sketchbook sits abandoned on the coffee table.

Felix lies on the floor, headphones dangling from one ear as he messes with his laptop. The faint smell of someone's cologne clings to the air, mixing with the scent of coffee, chips, and something burnt. Probably whatever disaster Changbin left in the kitchen earlier.

At the far end of the couch, Hyunjin sits perched like some brooding artist prince. His long legs are folded under him, and his sketchbook rests on his lap. He's uncharacteristically focused, head bent over the page, the faint sound of his pencil scratching across paper punctuating the room's chaos. His brows are furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line of concentration, and the muscles in his forearm flex subtly as he shades and reworks the lines.

Jeongin looks up from his phone, his curiosity piqued by Hyunjin's intense focus. He leans forward, craning his neck to peer over Hyunjin's shoulder. A second later, his eyes widen, and a slow, shit-eating grin spreads across his face.

"Hyunjin," Jeongin starts, his voice cutting through the room like a knife. "Why the fuck are you drawing a girl spreading her legs?"

The chaos screeches to a halt. Felix pulls out his remaining earbud, glancing over, and Changbin, who's been lounging in the recliner like he owns the place, sits up straight. Seungmin sighs audibly, muttering something about how living with idiots is ruining his brain cells.

Hyunjin doesn't even look up, his pencil moving smoothly across the page. "It's Y/N," he says, his tone casual, as if he's commenting on the weather. He tilts his head, adding a delicate line of shading. "It's part of her routine."

Jeongin's jaw drops. "What the fuck?!" He leans closer, unabashed now. "Ohhh, the Y/N. The dancer Minho and Jisung brought you to see. Holy shit, this is actually, wait, this is fucking good."

Now Felix is sitting up, his laptop abandoned. He scrambles over to see the sketch for himself and he whistles low when he catches a glimpse of the drawing. "Hyunjin, what the fuck. This is insane. You really nailed the, uh, energy."

"Energy," Jeongin echoes, snorting. "Yeah, that's one word for it."

Changbin finally drags himself off the recliner and ambles over, looming behind Hyunjin as he surveys the sketch. His eyes sweep over the drawing: your figure mid-move, legs extended, head tipped back in a pose that screams strength and sensuality. Hyunjin's lines are sharp but fluid, capturing the raw energy of your performance with a precision that feels alive.

"Damn," Changbin says, his voice low and impressed. "She's fucking hot."

"Excuse me?" Minho's voice cuts through the air like a whip as he strides into the room, a mug of coffee in hand. His cherry-red hair is a little messy, falling into his eyes as he fixes Changbin with a glare sharp enough to kill. "Not Y/N. Absolutely not. She's too good for you fucking degenerates."

Hyunjin glances up briefly, smirking. "Nice doesn't mean off-limits."

"It does when it comes to her," Minho snaps, slamming his mug down on the coffee table with enough force to make Felix flinch. "She's sweet and I'm not about to let you or any of these assholes ruin that."

Changbin raises his hands in mock surrender, though there's a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Relax, man. I'm not planning to do shit. I'm just saying-"

"Well, don't fucking say," Minho interrupts, pointing an accusing finger. "The last thing she needs is you cretins ogling her like she's a fucking dessert."

Felix smirks from his spot on the floor, leaning back on his hands. "To be fair, she's hot."

"Felix," Minho snaps, rounding on him. "You too? What the fuck is wrong with you people?"

"I'm just making an observation," Felix replies, holding up his hands. "Not my fault she's objectively attractive."

Seungmin sighs heavily, his voice dripping with disdain as he flips a page in his textbook. "This house is full of fucking animals."

Hyunjin finally sets his pencil down and turns to face the room, his expression calm but tinged with amusement. "You're all overreacting. I'm drawing her because she inspires me. That's it."

"Bull-fucking-shit," Jeongin mutters under his breath, only to yelp a second later when Minho smacks him upside the head.

"I'm serious," Hyunjin continues, ignoring the chaos. His voice takes on a more thoughtful tone. "Her routine- it's captivating. She has this way of moving. It's raw. It's like she's channelling something real, something... intense."

Minho narrows his eyes, leaning forward. "Hyunjin, I swear to fucking God, if you-"

"If I what?" Hyunjin interrupts, standing with a lazy stretch that makes Jeongin roll his eyes. "If I admire her talent? If I get inspired by her passion? What's the fucking crime here?"

"If you fuck it up," Minho says, his tone deadly serious. "She's not just some muse for your tortured artist bullshit. She's our friend. Don't fucking forget that."

Hyunjin's smirk falters slightly, and he holds his hands up in surrender. "I get it. I'm not an idiot."

"Debatable," Seungmin mutters under his breath, earning a sharp glare from Hyunjin.

"I'll behave," Hyunjin promises, his voice softer now. "She's different. I know that."

Minho studies him for a long moment, his eyes narrowing. "Good. Keep it that way."

The tension eases slightly, the energy in the room shifting back into its usual chaos. Jeongin flops back onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, Felix resumes fiddling with his laptop, and Changbin mutters something about everyone being way too sensitive as he retreats to his recliner.

Hyunjin picks up his sketchbook again, glancing down at the unfinished drawing of you. The lines of your pose are bold, commanding, and yet there's a softness to the way he's shaded your face. A flicker of something almost reverent.

"Different," he murmurs to himself, tapping his pencil against the page.

Yeah, you were different. And maybe that was the fucking problem.

The night air bites at Hyunjin's cheeks as he strides across campus, his sketchbook clutched tightly under his arm. Most of the students are heading in the opposite direction, their laughter and drunken shouts spilling out into the streets as they make their way to the Kappa Tau party.

Music thunders from open windows, bass vibrating through the air, but Hyunjin barely registers it. He knows Minho and Jisung are probably already there, doing something ridiculous, probably egging on a keg stand or starting an argument over God knows what, but he has other plans tonight.

The glow of the dance studio comes into view, spilling a warm golden light onto the pavement. Hyunjin pulls the door open, stepping into the familiar scent of polished wood, faint sweat, and the quiet hum of the air conditioning. It's like walking into another world, separate from the chaos of campus life, calm yet charged with potential.

You're already there, your black sneakers shuffling softly against the floor as you stretch. You're wearing black shorts and a cropped tank top, your hair loosely clipped up with stray strands falling around your face. The outfit is practical, sure, but there's something about it, about you, that catches Hyunjin off guard. You look effortless. Grounded. Like you belong here in a way no one else ever could.

The door shuts with a soft thud, and you glance up, catching his reflection in the mirror. A smile spreads across your lips, warm and genuine. "Hi, Hyunjin."

"Hey," he replies, his voice softer than he means it to be. He raises his sketchbook slightly, as if in explanation. "I was wondering if I could sit and sketch? Watching you dance makes it easier to get the details right."

You straighten, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face as your smile widens. "Of course. Make yourself at home."

He settles onto a bench by the mirrors, tossing his bag to the side and flipping open his sketchbook. His pencil hovers over the page, poised and ready, but his gaze drifts to you as you turn back to the barre. You lift your leg in a slow, fluid motion, pressing it effortlessly toward your head.

The stretch elongates your body, your muscles moving with practised ease. There's something hypnotic about it, the way your motions are deliberate yet entirely natural.

"How long have you been dancing?" Hyunjin asks, his voice cutting through the quiet. His pencil starts to move, tracing the shape of your form.

You glance at him, thoughtful as you lower your leg and switch sides. "Since I was five. My mom put me in ballet classes, and I hated it at first. Like, really fucking hated it. But then, I don't know. Something just clicked. It stopped being this thing I had to do and became something I needed to do."

His pencil pauses for a moment, and he nods. "It shows. You're incredible."

You laugh softly, a light, airy sound that fills the room. "Thanks. That means a lot."

As you finish at the barre, you move to the centre of the room, rolling your shoulders and shaking out your limbs. Hyunjin watches as you start to move through your routine, your steps deliberate and sharp. Every spin, every lunge, every roll of your hips is purposeful, like you're pouring your entire soul into the choreography.

There's something raw about it, something almost vulnerable, and it grips him in a way he can't describe.

"You don't hold back," Hyunjin says, his voice laced with admiration as he sketches furiously. His pencil races across the page, trying to keep up with you.

"Why would I?" you reply, pausing mid-spin to glance at him. "If I'm not giving it everything, then what's the point?"

He hums in agreement, his lips curving into a small smile as his gaze flickers between you and his sketchbook. "Most people are scared to be that exposed. It's rare."

You turn back to your routine, a faint smile playing on your lips. "Dancing doesn't feel like exposing myself. It feels like telling a story. Like I'm showing people something they can't see otherwise."

Hyunjin's pencil halts mid-stroke. His gaze lifts to you, something unreadable flickering in his dark eyes. "That's fucking beautiful."

The sincerity in his voice makes your cheeks warm, but you push past it, spinning into a series of pirouettes that ends with you dropping into a low lunge. The sound of your breathing fills the room, mingling with the soft scratch of his pencil against paper.

When you pause to grab your water bottle, he speaks again. "Do you ever get nervous? Performing, I mean."

"Every fucking time," you admit, wiping a bead of sweat from your temple. "But it's a good kind of nervous. It reminds me that I care. That it matters."

He nods slowly, his pencil moving again. "Yeah. I get that. It's the same with art sometimes. The nerves keep you grounded. Like, if you're not a little terrified, are you even fucking alive?"

You laugh, soft and genuine. "Exactly."

The next hour passes in a rhythm that feels oddly intimate. You dance, stretching, refining sections of your routine, and he sketches in near silence, the occasional question or comment slipping from his lips. The concentration on his face mirrors your own: brows furrowed, eyes sharp, hands moving as if guided by instinct.

Every now and then, you steal a glance at him, marvelling at the way his long fingers grip the pencil, the way his wrist moves so fluidly as he captures moments of your movement on paper.

Finally, you pause, your chest heaving as you catch your breath. Grabbing your towel, you walk over to him and lean down, tilting your head to get a look at his sketchbook. "Can I see?"

For a second, he hesitates, then flips the book around. Your eyes widen as you take in the drawing. A snapshot of you mid-spin, arms extended, hair fanned out like a halo. The lines are bold but fluid, each stroke capturing the energy and emotion of your movements. It's raw, dynamic, alive.

"Holy shit," you breathe, your voice hushed. "This is... amazing. You're so talented."

His cheeks flush pink, and he ducks his head slightly, a shy smile tugging at his lips. "Thanks. But honestly, it's easy to draw when the subject's this inspiring."

The words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you're not sure how to respond. Your chest feels warm, like the air between you has shifted. You tap the edge of his sketchbook lightly, smiling. "Well, I'm glad I could help."

"You've done more than that," he murmurs, his voice soft, almost too low to hear. His gaze meets yours, and there's something in his eyes. Something unspoken but heavy. It lingers there, filling the silence.

You clear your throat, breaking the moment with a small laugh. "All right. One more run-through, and then I'm calling it a night."

Hyunjin nods, settling back against the wall, pencil poised. "Take your time. I'm not in a fucking hurry."

As the music starts up again, you throw yourself into the choreography one last time, your body moving like it's connected to the beat. Hyunjin sketches furiously, his hand working almost faster than his mind can process. There's a feeling in his chest, a kind of ache he can't quite name. But as he watches you dance, he knows one thing for certain: you've become more than just a muse.

Over the next month, the dance studio transforms into a quiet sanctuary for the two of you. It becomes a rhythm. Unspoken, natural. Hyunjin shows up whenever he knows Minho and Jisung are too distracted by their latest frat house chaos to hover, sketchbook tucked securely under his arm. There's always the faint scent of graphite clinging to him, mingling with his cologne, something crisp and warm that lingers even after he's gone.

At first, his visits are clinical, purely about capturing your movement on paper. But slowly, without either of you acknowledging it, they shift into something else. The conversations get longer. The silences more comfortable. And tonight feels different somehow.

The studio is quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional creak of the barre as you stretch. Hyunjin sits cross-legged on the floor, his sketchbook balanced on his knees, but his pencil lies idle for once. He's watching you instead, his dark eyes tracing the shape of your body as you lean into a deep stretch.

There's something captivating about how natural you look, your hair swept up in a messy bun, loose strands curling against your neck, dressed simply in a black tank top and leggings. There's no stage, no spotlight. Just you, raw and unpolished.

"You're quiet tonight," you say softly, twisting your torso to stretch your sides. Your voice cuts through the stillness, gentle but curious. "What's on your mind?"

He shrugs, running a hand through his hair in that effortless way of his that makes it fall perfectly back into place. "Nothing," he replies after a beat. "Just thinking."

"Dangerous," you tease, settling onto the floor across from him. Your legs stretch out in front of you as you lean back on your hands, your expression soft but playful. "Thinking about what?"

His fingers tap against the edge of his sketchbook, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. "About how you make this shit look so easy. Dancing, I mean. Like you don't even have to try."

You laugh softly, tilting your head as you consider him. "It's not always easy. I fuck up all the time. You've just been lucky enough to catch me on my good days."

He huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Bullshit. Even when you're just warming up, it's like watching something... magic. Like it's in your blood or something."

"That's sweet, but you're giving me way too much credit."

"I'm not," he says, his tone firm and certain. He leans back on his hands, the curve of his lips softening into something more thoughtful. "I've been stuck on this project for weeks. Trying to figure out what the fuck passion even looks like, and I still can't get it right. But you? You are passion. You don't even have to try."

You blink at him, caught off guard by the weight of his words. Ducking your head, you fiddle with the hem of your tank top, your voice quieter now. "I don't know what to say to that."

He smirks, his eyes lighting with mischief. "Say I'm right."

You roll your eyes, laughing softly. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"Yeah, but you like it," he shoots back, the corners of his mouth tugging into a grin.

For a moment, the room falls silent again, but it's not uncomfortable. It feels easy, like you're both content to exist in this shared quiet. Hyunjin's fingers brush against his pencil, but he doesn't pick it up. Instead, he breaks the silence, his voice lower this time. "So why'd you pick this song for the showcase? Dirty Diana doesn't seem like your usual vibe."

You settle onto your elbows, tilting your head as you think. "Honestly? It was a challenge. I usually go for light, fun stuff—songs that make people smile. But this? This is darker. More intense. It scared me a little."

"Doesn't look like it," he says, his gaze steady on yours. "You own it. Like the song was written for you."

"Thanks," you reply. "But it took a lot of fucking work to get there. The first few times I practised, I felt like a complete idiot. Like I was trying too hard, you know?"

Hyunjin leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watches you intently. "And now?"

You glance away for a second, your voice quieter when you answer. "Now it feels freeing. Like I'm stepping into someone else for a little while. Someone who's bolder. Less afraid to take up space."

His lips curve into a small, genuine smile. "That's what art's supposed to do, right? Push you. Make you see yourself differently."

"Exactly," you say, meeting his gaze. "It's the same for you, isn't it? With your sketches?"

He chuckles, looking down at the blank page in front of him. "Yeah. Except half the time I want to rip the fucking paper to shreds because it's never good enough."

"Don't," you say firmly, your voice soft but insistent. "Your work is incredible, Hyunjin. Don't sell yourself short."

His ears tint pink, and he ducks his head, his smile almost shy. "Thanks. That means a lot coming from you."

The conversation shifts from there, drifting into easier territory. You talk about ridiculous childhood stories like the time you tripped during your first recital and wanted to quit on the spot.

Hyunjin counters with a tale about Minho accidentally locking himself out of the frat house wearing nothing but a towel, and you laugh so hard you have to wipe tears from your eyes.

"God, your friends are fucking insane," you say between giggles.

"You have no idea," he replies, grinning. "Living with them is like a daily test of patience and survival."

The hours slip by without either of you noticing, the weight of the day melting away in the warmth of your laughter. By the time you glance at the clock, it's nearly midnight.

"Shit," you mutter, standing and stretching your arms overhead. "I didn't realize it was so late."

Hyunjin follows suit, stretching lazily as the hem of his sweater rides up slightly, revealing a sliver of toned skin. You quickly avert your gaze. "Time flies when you're with me," he says, smirking.

"Or when you're swapping embarrassing childhood stories," you counter, shooting him a playful glare.

He chuckles, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "Fair enough. I'll let you get back to it, then."

You walk him to the door, pausing as he turns to face you. "Thanks for coming by," you say softly, your smile warm. "It's nice having company."

"Anytime," he replies, his voice just as soft. His gaze lingers on you for a moment, unreadable but heavy. Then the smirk returns. "See you soon, Y/N."

"See you soon, Hyunjin," you echo, your voice barely above a whisper.

As the door closes behind him, you exhale, your lips curving into a small smile. The air feels lighter, warmer, though the space is now empty. And for the first time in a long while, you're glad it isn't just your sanctuary anymore.

The studio is unusually quiet tonight. The air feels heavier than usual, weighted by your own fatigue. Each movement takes more effort than it should, your muscles dragging like they're stuck in molasses. You stretch at the barre, your arms trembling slightly as you press into the motion.

A soft cough escapes your lips, muffled into the crook of your elbow. You try to ignore the rasp in your throat, the way your breath comes just a little too shallow, but it's no use. Your body isn't cooperating, and you know it.

Hyunjin watches from his usual spot by the mirror, his sketchbook open on his lap. His pencil hasn't moved for minutes now, his focus entirely on you. He notices every detail, the way your shoulders slump, the hesitation in your usually fluid spins. When you pause to lean against the barre, catching your breath, he finally speaks up, his voice sharp enough to cut through the stillness.

"Y/N," he says, his tone edged with concern. "Are you sick?"

You glance at him, brushing a loose strand of hair from your damp forehead. "I'm fine," you say, your voice hoarse and thin. "Just a little cold."

"Bullshit," he snaps, setting his sketchbook down with a soft thud. His eyes narrow as he pushes himself off the floor. "You're coughing, your voice sounds like sandpaper, and you look like you're about to keel the fuck over. Don't lie to me."

"I'm fine," you insist, but it's weak, even to your own ears.

"Like hell you are." He strides across the room, his long legs closing the distance quickly. "Take a break. Seriously. You look like you're about to pass the fuck out."

You sigh, leaning heavily against the barre, the fight draining out of you. "I just need a minute."

"No," he says firmly, grabbing his sketchbook and sitting on the floor. He pats the spot next to him with exaggerated patience. "You're sitting down. Now. Don't make me drag your ass over here."

Your lips twitch with the faintest hint of a smile, but you're too tired to argue. Slowly, you sink down beside him, stretching your legs out in front of you. "Fine. What are we doing?"

He flips through the pages of his sketchbook, his movements deliberate. "Just look at this," he says, though there's a hint of nervousness in his tone that you don't miss.

You glance down as he opens the book to a familiar page, a sketch of you mid-spin, arms outstretched, hair flying. You've seen this one before, the strength and fluidity of your movement captured perfectly in pencil strokes. But as he turns the page, your breath catches.

It's you. Not the dancer you see in the mirror, not the performer on stage, but you in quiet, unguarded moments. You sipping coffee, your hands curled around the mug like it's a lifeline. You laughing, your head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut. You stretching absentmindedly, a faint smile tugging at your lips. The sketches are meticulous, yet they radiate something softer, something achingly familiar.

"You've been drawing me?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. The rawness of it is both from your cold and the sudden emotion bubbling up in your chest.

Hyunjin rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks faintly pink. "Yeah. I mean... you're inspiring. It's not just the way you move—it's everything. The way you laugh like you don't give a fuck who's listening. The way you zone out when you're thinking too hard. Even the way you drink coffee, like it's the best goddamn thing you've ever tasted. It's... fuck, I don't even know how to explain it. You're just... effortlessly beautiful."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, but in the best way. You blink down at the sketches, the intricate lines and subtle shading, the way he's managed to capture so much of you. "Hyunjin," you whisper, your throat tightening. "These are- they're incredible. You're incredible."

He shrugs, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips. "It's easy when the subject is..." He trails off, his gaze flickering to yours. "Well. You."

You feel your cheeks heat, the compliment settling somewhere deep in your chest. "Thank you. For seeing me like this."

His expression softens, the usual cockiness giving way to something more vulnerable. "It's just the truth."

You cough again, the sound rough and raw, and Hyunjin's brow furrows immediately. He shifts closer, his knee brushing yours as he sits up straighter. "That's it," he declares. "We're done here. Come on." He stands and holds a hand out to you.

You blink at him, confused. "What?"

"We're getting you soup," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "No fucking debate. Let's go."

You start to protest, shaking your head weakly. "I'm fine, Hyunjin. I don't need—"

"Y/N." His voice is firm but not unkind. He fixes you with a look that's both exasperated and weirdly endearing. "You're not fine. You're a stubborn little shit, but you're also sick. We're getting soup. End of story."

You sigh, defeated, and take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. "You're bossy, you know that?"

"And you're a pain in the ass," he shoots back, grinning. "Let's call it even."

The night air is sharp against your skin as you step outside, and you pull your jacket tighter around yourself. Hyunjin walks beside you, his hand brushing yours occasionally as the two of you head toward a quiet corner of campus. The restaurant he leads you to is small and cozy, tucked between two buildings like a secret. Warm light spills from the windows, and the scent of broth and spices hits you the moment you walk in.

Hyunjin orders for both of you, a hearty soup and a pot of hot tea to share, and when the food arrives, he pushes your bowl toward you with a pointed look. "Eat."

You pick up your spoon, the warmth of the soup spreading through you as you take a sip. It's comforting in a way you hadn't realized you needed.

"Better?" he asks, his voice softer now, almost tentative.

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Much better. Thank you."

He leans back in his chair, his expression smug but satisfied. "Good. You're not allowed to starve yourself when you're sick. It's fucking illegal."

"Oh, really?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "Whose laws are these?"

"Mine," he replies without hesitation, grinning. "And trust me, I'm an unforgiving dictator."

You laugh, the sound raspier than usual but still genuine. "Well, thank you, Supreme Leader Hyunjin."

"You're welcome, loyal subject," he quips, his grin widening.

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm as you eat, the conversation flowing between bites of soup and sips of tea. He tells you about Minho's latest antics, something about an ill-fated attempt to flirt with a girl who turned out to be his TA, and you share a story about your first recital, when you tripped during the opening number and wanted to quit on the spot.

By the time you glance at the clock, it's nearly midnight, and the world outside has gone quiet. Hyunjin insists on walking you home, his hands stuffed into his pockets as the two of you make your way back across campus.

"Thanks for taking care of me," you say softly as you reach your door. "You didn't have to."

"Yeah, I did," he replies, his gaze meeting yours. "You're too fucking nice for your own good. Someone has to look out for you."

You feel your heart squeeze at his words, but you smile anyway. "Well, you're pretty good at it."

"Damn right I am," he says, smirking. "Now go to bed. No late-night choreography, I mean it."

"Yes, sir," you tease, rolling your eyes.

He grins, stepping back. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Hyunjin."

As he walks away, his hands stuffed in his coat pockets, you feel a warmth settle over you that has nothing to do with the soup. For the first time in days, you feel genuinely cared for.

The Alpha Phi living room reeks of weed, stale beer, and half-eaten pizza. A haze of smoke curls lazily around the room, mixing with the loud, slurred laughter of the frat boys sprawled across the furniture.

Minho is slouched on the couch, a joint dangling from his fingers, his other hand resting on the thigh of a Kappa Tau girl perched on his lap. Her glossy lips are stretched into a giggle that grates on Hyunjin's nerves the second he walks in. Jisung, meanwhile, is leaning back in the recliner, another girl practically draped over him, both of them laughing at something incoherent and stupid.

The coffee table is a war zone of empty beer cans, crushed Solo cups, and grease-stained pizza boxes. It's the kind of chaos Hyunjin usually ignores, hell, sometimes he even thrives in it. But tonight? Tonight, it makes his blood fucking boil.

"Y/N's sick," Hyunjin snaps, his voice slicing through the noise like a blade. It's sharp, furious, and instantly cuts through the haze of laughter. "She's fucking sick, coughing her lungs out, barely able to stand, and meanwhile, you two are here, lying to her, ignoring her, fucking around like it's nothing. What the actual fuck is this?"

Minho blinks at him, slow and stupid, his eyes bloodshot as he squints through the smoke. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Hyunjin takes a step closer, his jaw clenched. "Y/N. Your friend. The one you two abandoned for this bullshit." He gestures wildly to the scene in front of him, his frustration spilling out unchecked. "She was in the studio earlier, pushing herself so hard she could barely breathe. I had to drag her out to get soup because she hasn't been eating properly, and she couldn't even fucking call either of you because, guess what? You lied to her about having exams. So tell me, Minho, what the fuck is this?"

Jisung sits up straighter, looking vaguely defensive as he rubs at the back of his neck. "She's fine. Y/N's tough."

"Tough?" Hyunjin's voice rises, and the anger in it makes Jisung flinch. "You think that makes it okay? She's fucking tough because she has to be, not because she wants to. She was practically falling over, Jisung. You should've seen her, coughing, wheezing, still trying to practice because she thought you two were too fucking busy to care."

One of the Kappa Tau girls, a brunette with obnoxiously long extensions, chimes in with a scoff. "They're busy with us. Their little friend can handle herself."

Hyunjin's head snaps toward her, his dark eyes narrowing dangerously. His voice drops, cold and venomous. "Get the fuck out. Now."

The girl blinks, clearly caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Hyunjin says, his tone lethal. "Get. The fuck. Out. Before I rip those shitty extensions out myself."

Her bravado falters under his glare. "You're such a fucking buzzkill," she huffs, grabbing her bag and stomping toward the door. The other girl, less bold and clearly spooked, scrambles up and mumbles a quick goodbye before following her out.

Minho looks up, his jaw tightening. "Hyunjin, what the actual fuck is your problem?"

"My problem?" Hyunjin snaps, his voice cutting like a whip. "My problem is that Y/N is too fucking nice to realize that the two of you are absolute shit friends. My problem is that she thinks it's her fault you've been ignoring her. She was literally defending you earlier, Minho. She said, 'They probably have their reasons. They didn't want me to feel left out.' Left out? She's making excuses for you, and meanwhile, you're here playing frat house fuckboy."

Jisung's mouth opens, but Hyunjin raises a hand, cutting him off. "No. Shut the fuck up. You let her think she didn't matter enough to bother with. And for what? This?" He gestures angrily at the wreckage of the living room. "This isn't fucking worth it."

Minho looks away, his jaw tight, guilt flickering across his face. Jisung runs a hand through his hair, visibly uncomfortable, his leg bouncing nervously as he struggles to find words.

"You don't deserve her," Hyunjin says finally, his voice quieter but no less sharp. "She's too fucking good for either of you."

The weight of his words hangs in the air, and neither of them tries to argue. Before they can muster a response, Hyunjin's phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, his expression softening slightly when he sees your name. Without hesitation, he answers, putting the phone on speaker.

"Y/N?" he says, his tone gentler than it's been all night.

"Hi, Hyunjin," your voice comes through, weak and raspy. It's like a punch to the chest. "I'm sorry to bother you. I just- Could you maybe pick me up some cough medicine? My muscles ache so bad, and I feel awful, but I didn't want to bother Minho or Jisung. I know they're busy."

Hyunjin's eyes snap to Minho and Jisung, both of whom look like they've been slapped. Minho's grip tightens on the joint before he crushes it out in the ashtray, his jaw clenching.

"Of course, Y/N," Hyunjin says, his voice soft but firm. "Don't worry about it. I'll be there soon."

"Thank you," you whisper, relief heavy in your tone. "I really appreciate it."

"Anything for you," he replies sincerely. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

He hangs up, and the room is deadly quiet for a moment before Hyunjin turns his glare back to the two of them. "Did you hear her? She didn't want to 'bother' you. You've made her think she's a fucking burden. You assholes are lucky she hasn't cut you off completely."

Minho is already on his feet. "I'll get it. I'll go right now."

Jisung jumps up, grabbing his keys. "We'll fix it. We'll get the medicine and apologize."

"You fucking better," Hyunjin mutters, stepping back as they scramble for their shoes. "And you're going to make it right."

"Yeah," Jisung says quickly, his voice tight. "We will."

They rush out, the door slamming behind them, and Hyunjin exhales heavily, running a hand through his hair. The anger lingers, simmering under his skin, but there's a flicker of satisfaction too. For once, it feels like they might actually get their shit together.

And for you? Hyunjin would burn the whole damn house down if it meant you never felt alone again.

Minho and Jisung practically sprint through the dorm hallways, juggling plastic bags filled to bursting with everything they could grab at the store. The rustle of bags and their muffled swearing echoes down the corridor as they fumble with the sheer volume of their haul: cough medicine, lemon tea, honey, tissues, painkillers, ginger, lemons, pre-cooked chicken, and even random snacks Jisung insisted on, including a family-sized pack of cookies.

"Fucking hell, why did I let you grab this much shit?" Minho hisses, nearly tripping over his own feet as a bag digs into his wrist.

"Emergency morale boosters are a necessity," Jisung shoots back, juggling a box of instant ramen precariously on top of his already-full arms. "I'm telling you, Y/N's gonna love the cookies."

"Soup first. Cookies second. I swear to God, if you make her eat cookies before real food—"

"I know, I know! Don't yell at me!" Jisung grumbles, though his pace quickens as they round the last corner.

When they reach your door, Minho raises a hand to knock, but the door swings open before he can. You're leaning heavily against the frame, wrapped in an old blanket and wearing one of Minho's oversized T-shirts. The fabric hangs off your shoulders, the faded logo almost completely worn away. Your hair is messy, tendrils sticking to your forehead, and your face is drawn, your tired eyes framed by deep circles. You sniffle softly, offering them a weak smile.

"Hey," you croak, your voice a low rasp.

Minho's brows knit together immediately. "Jesus fucking Christ," he mutters, stepping closer to place a hand on your forehead. His touch is cool, and the frown on his face deepens. "You look like absolute shit."

"Wow," you rasp with a dry laugh, stepping aside to let them in. "Nice to see you too."

"Holy shit, Y/N," Jisung says, shuffling inside and carefully dropping the bags on your tiny kitchen counter. His wide eyes dart around the room, taking in the barely-touched water bottles and the tissues piled on your nightstand. "Why didn't you fucking call us earlier? You look like death warmed over."

"I didn't want to bother you," you reply, closing the door and leaning against it for support. "You've been busy."

"Busy being dicks," Minho mutters under his breath as he starts unloading the bags onto your counter. He pulls out a pot and grabs the chicken, turning back to look at you, his expression softening. "Go. Get your ass in bed. I'm making you chicken soup. And don't even fucking think about arguing. You love my soup."

You hesitate for a moment, but the way Minho glares at you, sharp but with an underlying warmth, makes you cave. "Okay, okay," you mumble, shuffling toward your bed. Your legs wobble slightly as you move, and Jisung is at your side in a heartbeat.

"Fuck, Y/N, sit down before you collapse," he says, his voice filled with more concern than he usually shows. He helps you onto the bed and grabs a blanket from the foot of it, draping it over your shoulders and tucking it around you like a burrito. "There. Cozy?"

"Super cozy," you rasp, amused despite yourself. "Thanks, Ji."

"You're welcome," he says, pulling up a chair next to the bed and rummaging through one of the bags. "Okay, let's see, honey, for your throat. Lemon. Oh, shit, I grabbed ginger too. And, uh, tissues. And this weird-ass herbal tea the cashier said would cure your soul or something."

"You're high," you tease softly, watching him with a faint smile.

"Maybe a little," he admits, giggling as he pulls out a pack of cookies and waves it like a trophy. "But that doesn't mean I can't take care of you. Look, cookies. For morale. Revolutionary."

"Soup first, Jisung," Minho barks from the kitchenette, where he's already chopping vegetables with sharp, practised movements. "No fucking cookies before soup."

"Fine, dad," Jisung mutters, leaning over to smooth a stray strand of hair from your forehead. "Y/N, I swear to God, I'm gonna take care of you until you're back to dancing around and making us feel untalented."

You laugh softly, but it turns into a rattling cough that makes both of them wince. Jisung's face twists in concern as he grabs the tissue box and holds it out to you. "Okay, coughing is now illegal. I'm banning it."

"Seconded," Minho calls, tossing chopped ginger into the pot. "And you're not allowed to die. It's against the rules. You're too nice for that shit."

You manage a hoarse laugh, curling deeper into the blanket. "I wasn't planning on it, but thanks for the pep talk."

Jisung's voice drops, uncharacteristically serious. "We're sorry, Y/N. For being, you know, absolute dickheads. You deserve better."

You shake your head weakly, your voice soft. "You're not dickheads. You're here now. That's all that matters."

Minho glances at you over his shoulder, his jaw tight. "We're here now because we fucked up, and we know it. I lied to you about that fucking exam, and Jisung didn't call you back because we were too busy being assholes. That's not okay."

"You're my assholes," you murmur, the corners of your lips tugging into a small smile.

Minho snorts, turning back to the stove. "Damn right we are. And as your assholes, we're fixing it. Starting with this soup."

Jisung leans closer, his chin resting on the edge of your bed. "We missed you, Y/N. And we're gonna do better, I swear."

You hum softly, your eyes already fluttering shut as the exhaustion pulls at you. "I missed you too. So much."

Jisung reaches over to hold your hand lightly, his fingers brushing against yours. "You're way too fucking good to us."

"Damn straight," Minho mutters, his voice softer now. "But we're not leaving you like this again. I mean it."

Jisung picks up the cookies again, holding one up with a grin. "Okay, one morale cookie before soup. Just one. I promise. Don't let Minho see"

You crack an eye open, looking amused as you reach out. "Fine. Just one."

The backstage area is a chaotic whirlwind of activity, a blur of sequins, feathers, and rushing bodies. Dancers flit past in various states of dress, their laughter and shouted instructions blending with the occasional hiss of a steamer and the clatter of heels against the floor. The air is heavy with the sharp scent of hairspray, powder, and sweat, the electric tension so thick it's almost suffocating.

You sit at your station, staring into the mirror under the harsh glare of the lights. Your makeup bag is open in front of you, brushes and palettes scattered in disarray, but your hands won't stop trembling. The eyeliner in your fingers drags a jagged line across your lid, and you curse softly, dropping it onto the table in frustration.

The outfit you've been practicing in for weeks looks stunning under the backstage lights. The halter-style leather corset clings to your frame perfectly, its lace-up front shimmering every time you shift. The matching gloves glint with small embellishments and your garters are taut, connecting your hotpants to the thigh-high fishnets that make your legs look impossibly long in your stilettos. A red feather headpiece tilts delicately on your hair, framing your face, while the boa draped over your shoulders adds a dramatic, sultry flair.

But even with all the effort, the polished look feels like a lie. Your stomach churns, twisting with nerves that seem to multiply with every second, every muffled call for the next dancer. You've never felt more exposed, like every flaw is about to be illuminated the moment you step onto the stage.

"I'm gonna fucking vomit," you mutter, slumping forward to press your forehead against your hand. The eyeliner pen rolls off the table, but you barely notice, too consumed by the rising tide of panic.

"Knock, knock," a voice cuts through the noise, low and familiar, and your head snaps up to meet Hyunjin's gaze in the mirror.

He leans casually against the doorframe, his dark jeans and loose black button-up looking effortlessly perfect, as always. His hair is tucked behind his ears, framing his sharp features, and though his sketchbook is absent, the quiet intensity in his eyes makes you feel like you're being sketched anyway. Every detail of you taken in and captured.

"How's my favourite performer?" he asks, stepping inside. His tone is light, teasing, but there's a softness in his expression as he takes in your trembling hands.

You try to smile, but it falters. "I feel like shit," you admit quietly. "I think I might actually puke."

Hyunjin strides closer, crouching beside your chair so that he's at eye level with you. "You're not going to puke," he says firmly, his dark eyes locking onto yours. "You're going to go out there and absolutely kill it. End of story."

You huff a weak laugh, shaking your head. "You have way too much faith in me."

"That's because I've seen you," he replies, his voice soft but resolute. "I've watched you pour every ounce of yourself into this. Every step, every spin, every goddamn detail. Trust me, you're going to blow their fucking minds."

Your throat tightens, your fingers twisting in your lap. "I can't even get my eyeliner right,"

Hyunjin's lips twitch into a smirk. "Let me," he says, standing and grabbing the eyeliner from the floor. He straightens and tilts his head. "Trust me?"

"You? Do my eyeliner?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "What, are you secretly a makeup artist now?"

"Relax," he says, his tone playful but sure. "I've done this before. Stay still."

You hesitate for a moment, then nod, your heart fluttering as he steps closer. He places one hand under your chin, tilting your face up toward him, and the warmth of his skin steadies your trembling slightly. His other hand holds the eyeliner steady, and you try not to think about how close he is, his focus entirely on you.

"Don't move," he murmurs, his voice low. You barely breathe as his hand guides the pen smoothly across your lid, the strokes precise and confident.

After a few moments, he leans back, setting the pen down. "Done. Look."

You glance in the mirror, and your jaw drops. "Holy shit," you breathe. "That's... that's perfect."

"Told you," he says smugly, his grin widening. "Now stop clenching your hands. You're gonna ruin your gloves."

You glance down, realizing your fingers are white-knuckled against each other, and laugh softly, releasing them. "Sorry. It's just a lot."

Hyunjin straightens, leaning against the table as he looks at you. "Forget about them," he says suddenly, his tone firm.

"What?"

"The audience. The judges. Fuck all of them." He waves a hand dismissively, his lips quirking into a smirk. "Or better yet, imagine them naked. Isn't that what people say?"

You laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. "Why are you being so nice to me?" you ask, your voice soft. "You've done so much already. More than you had to."

His smile falters for a moment, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes. He steps closer, his voice quieter but steady. "Because you've done something to me, Y/N. No one's ever inspired me the way you do. Every line I draw, every thought I have... it's you. And honestly, it scares the shit out of me."

Your breath catches, your heart hammering as he continues.

"But the idea of not telling you, of not trying, scares me even more," he says, his gaze unwavering. "I'd rather crash and burn than watch you dance out of my reach."

For a moment, the world outside fades, the noise of the backstage chaos, the calls for dancers, the rustling of costumes. It's just you and Hyunjin, his words hanging between you like something fragile and beautiful.

"I-" you start, but he holds up a hand, his smile softening.

"Later," he says gently. "We can talk about it later. Tonight, just find me in the crowd. Forget everyone else. Look for me."

You nod slowly, your voice trembling as you say, "Okay."

He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face and adjusting the red feather in your headpiece. "You've got this. I'll be right there."

With one last smile, he steps back and heads for the door, glancing over his shoulder before disappearing into the hallway. As the door clicks shut, you take a deep breath, his words still echoing in your mind.

You turn back to the mirror. Your eyeliner is flawless, your outfit gleaming under the lights. The nerves are still there, but they're muted now. Tempered by the warmth in Hyunjin's voice and the steady certainty in his gaze.

You pick up your boa, draping it over your shoulders as you stand. One thought anchors you, steadying the whirlwind of nerves in your chest. Find Hyunjin in the crowd. Forget everyone else.

The stage is bathed in darkness, the auditorium buzzing with electric anticipation. You stand just offstage, one hand gripping the edge of the curtain, your breathing shallow as you wait for your cue.

The opening bassline of Dirty Diana thrums faintly in the background, the vibrations running through your heels and up your legs. The heat of the stage lights waiting to ignite feels oppressive even from here. Sweat beads on your back, but it's impossible to tell if it's from the heat or the nerves.

You can do this, you tell yourself, though your pulse pounds erratically. Your stomach twists, and your fingers curl tighter around the curtain. When the lights dim further, a sharp red glow spills onto the stage like blood across black velvet, cutting through the air like a siren.

This is it.

The music surges, and the red lights sharpen into beams that slice through the darkness, spotlighting the stage. You step out, your stilettos clicking softly against the polished floor, and the air in the room shifts. The world feels like it's both expanding and closing in, the crowd's hum muted by the rush of blood in your ears. Your movements are steady but deliberate, every step taking you further into the blazing heat of the spotlight.

Then you see them.

Front and centre, Hyunjin sits with Jisung and Minho, but the entire Alpha Phi crew has shown up. Chan leans slightly forward, his expression curious but impressed. Changbin is perched with his arms crossed, nodding along to the beat as if sizing you up. Felix has a camera slung over his shoulder and is already snapping away, adjusting his angles. Jeongin and Seungmin sit side by side, both watching intently, though Seungmin looks like he's trying not to smile.

And Hyunjin? His eyes are locked on you.

The moment your gaze meets his, it's like the rest of the room blurs. He's sitting forward in his seat, elbows on his knees, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that feels like a physical touch. There's something grounding about the way he looks at you, steady and unwavering, and for a moment, your nerves falter. Then his lips quirk into the faintest of smiles, and something shifts inside you. Confidence blooms, hot and electric, chasing away the fear.

The music kicks in, the beat hitting hard, and you move.

Your body responds before your mind can catch up, years of practice taking over. You flow seamlessly with the rhythm, every movement deliberate and sharp. The click of your heels punctuates the music, your steps precise and purposeful as the choreography unfolds. The leather corset clings to you like armour, your boa trailing behind you like the tail of a firework. The lights pulse red and black, shadows shifting dramatically with each movement.

When you drop to the floor for the first time, your legs spreading perfectly in sync with the beat, the crowd explodes. Gasps and cheers echo through the auditorium as you arch your back, tossing your head back, the red feathers of your headpiece catching the light like flames. You snap your head up, hair whipping around you, and from the corner of your vision, you catch Felix grinning as he snaps another shot.

"Holy fucking shit!" Minho's voice booms over the noise, his hands clapping wildly as he half-stands, pointing at you like he's claiming you as his protégé. "That's my fucking girl!"

"Damn right!" Jisung yells, standing to add to the cheers, his voice rising above the roar. He's grinning so wide it looks like his face might split, his energy contagious as the rest of Alpha Phi joins in. Changbin whistles sharply, a low, appreciative sound, while Jeongin nudges Chan and mutters something that makes the older boy laugh and nod.

But your focus narrows to Hyunjin. He hasn't moved, hasn't taken his eyes off you once. He's leaning forward slightly, his hands clasped loosely, but there's nothing loose about the way he looks at you. His expression is unreadable, captivated, maybe a little awestruck, but it's the kind of intensity that keeps your feet steady and your movements sharp. It feels like he's grounding you, tethering you to something solid as you pour every ounce of yourself into the routine.

The beat builds again, and you drop into a split, leaning back so your head nearly brushes the floor. The lights pulse red and white, casting jagged shadows across your body as you snap back up into a smooth twist. Your legs cross, your arms sweeping out as you rise to your feet, spinning sharply into the next sequence. The cheers swell, a wave of sound that pushes against the stage like a physical force.

"Fucking insane!" Jisung yells, his hands cupped around his mouth. "Y/N, you're a goddamn goddess!"

"This is fucking gold," Felix mutters, adjusting his lens for a better angle. "Minho, shut up and let me focus."

Minho doesn't shut up. "She's killing it!" he shouts, his voice cracking slightly as he claps harder. "Look at her go!"

You can't hear the individual words over the roar of the crowd, but you feel the energy coursing through the room like lightning. It fuels you, pushing you through the crescendo of the song. Your body moves on instinct now, every step, every spin, every drop a perfect reflection of the beat. The corset bites slightly at your ribs, the heels make your calves ache, but you barely notice.

And always, your eyes find Hyunjin.

He's smiling now, a faint curve of his lips that's softer than anything else in the room. But it's his eyes that hit you hardest. They're lit with something raw, something bright and deep that makes your heart pound harder than the bass. Pride, admiration, something else you can't quite name, it's all there, written plainly across his face. It's for you, and it's yours.

The routine crescendos into the final beat. You drop into your finishing pose, legs wide, boa draped across your shoulders, your arms outstretched, head thrown back. The lights flash once, twice, then fade, leaving you framed in a spotlight as the last note lingers in the air.

For a moment, the auditorium is silent.

Then the crowd erupts.

The applause is deafening, whistles and cheers bouncing off the walls. The Alpha Phi crew is on their feet, clapping and hollering louder than anyone else in the room.

Minho is shouting your name like a man possessed, Jisung is laughing so hard he can barely yell, and Changbin throws up a hand in a triumphant cheer. Chan and Jeongin are whistling loudly as they clap. Felix's camera is still clicking, capturing every moment, while Seungmin claps steadily, a faint grin tugging at his lips.

Hyunjin stands too, his applause slower but no less intense. His eyes never leave you, his expression unreadable except for the warmth radiating from his gaze. You're sure you're imagining it, but it feels like he's the only one clapping, the sound of his hands cutting through the chaos to wrap around you.

You take a deep, shaky breath and bow, your chest heaving, your face flushed. The world feels impossibly loud, but there's a quiet warmth growing in your chest. Something steady and grounding that you know belongs to him.

As you step offstage, your legs trembling slightly, someone presses a water bottle into your hand, and you take a grateful sip. The crowd noise follows you, the energy still thrumming in your veins.

The backstage hum has settled into a quieter buzz, the adrenaline fading to a warm, satisfied ache in your muscles. The air still carries faint traces of hairspray and sweat, mingling with the cool bite of the water bottle pressed to your lips. You lean against the edge of the makeup table, your legs shaky but your chest still thrumming with the electricity of the performance.

Then the door opens, and Hyunjin steps in.

He looks breathtaking, like he's been pulled straight out of a dream. His black button-up is slightly wrinkled from where he's probably been fidgeting with it, his dark jeans hugging his long legs in a way that feels unfair. His hair is tucked behind his ears, framing his sharp jawline, but it's the way his eyes find you that steals the air from your lungs. In his hands is a bouquet of vibrant red roses nestled alongside soft pink carnations and white lilies, the colours a stark, beautiful contrast against his all-black outfit.

You freeze, your words catching in your throat as the world narrows to just him.

"You were incredible," he says, his voice soft but firm, like he's stating a fact. He steps closer, the bouquet shifting in his hands as he holds it out to you. "I've never seen anything like that."

The sincerity in his voice is a balm to the lingering nerves that twist in your stomach, and you manage a small, shaky smile. Your hands tremble slightly as you take the bouquet, the weight of it grounding you. "Thank you," you whisper. "For being there. For... everything."

Hyunjin shakes his head, a faint, almost bashful smile tugging at his lips. "It's not enough," he murmurs, his eyes scanning your face like he's trying to memorize every detail. "I wish you could've seen what I saw out there. You..." He exhales, almost in awe. "You were ethereal."

The way he says it, like he believes it with every fiber of his being, makes your heart stutter. The bouquet trembles slightly in your hands, and you set it down carefully on the table beside you before turning back to him. You don't think; you just act, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him toward you.

Your lips crash against his, and for a split second, everything goes still. Hyunjin freezes, his breath catching, but then his hands find your waist, and it's like a dam breaking. He pulls you closer, kissing you back with an urgency that's almost overwhelming. It's messy and raw, a collision of emotions too big to put into words. His fingers dig into your hips, firm and grounding, as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

Your back hits the edge of the makeup table as he lifts you effortlessly, setting you down on the cold surface. The contrast of the chill against your skin and the heat of his hands sliding up your sides makes you gasp, and Hyunjin takes the opportunity to nip at your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue.

"Hyunjin," you breathe, breaking away just enough to rest your forehead against his. Your fingers twist in the fabric of his shirt, and you can feel his breath, warm and unsteady, mingling with yours. "What are we doing?"

"Exactly what I've wanted to do for weeks," he admits, his voice low and rough, each word vibrating against your skin. His hands trace small, deliberate circles on your waist, like he's trying to anchor himself to you. "I want you. I want to be the one you look for in the crowd. For as long as I have hands to draw and a heart to give."

The raw honesty in his words makes something inside you unravel, leaving you exposed in the best way. Your chest feels too full, your heart beating so fast it feels like it might break free. "You should've been a poet," you manage, your voice a soft, teasing whisper, even as a smile tugs at your lips.

Hyunjin chuckles, the sound deep and rich, sending a shiver down your spine. "You inspire me to be a lot of things," he murmurs before kissing you again, this time slower, more deliberate. His hands cradle your face, his thumbs brushing tenderly over your cheeks as his lips move against yours like he's memorizing every curve, every line, every moment.

When he finally pulls back, his breath comes in shallow, ragged pulls, but his gaze is steady. His forehead rests against yours again, his voice barely above a whisper. "I have something to show you tonight. At the frat."

You nod, your fingers tracing absent patterns on the nape of his neck. "Okay," you whisper back. "Whatever it is, I want to see it."

Before either of you can say more, the door bursts open, and chaos spills in.

"Y/N!" Jisung's voice rings out like a fucking bullhorn, followed by a cacophony of shouts, laughter, and the loud rustling of paper. You and Hyunjin spring apart, though his hands linger on your waist for a fraction of a second longer before he steps back.

The entire Alpha Phi crew barrels into the room, each of them holding bouquets that range from extravagant to downright ridiculous. Jisung's is mostly weeds and wildflowers, while Minho's looks like he swept his arm across a flower shop shelf and grabbed whatever fell. Chan's is elegant but understated, a careful mix of white roses and greenery.

"Look at you!" Chan grins, stepping forward to hand you his bouquet. "Fucking murdered it out there. Absolutely killed."

Changbin whistles, his eyes darting between you and Hyunjin. "Uh, should we come back later, or...?"

"Shut the fuck up, Bin," Minho huffs, shoving a massive bouquet of sunflowers and daisies into your arms. "These are for you. And you better fucking like them because I didn't spend half an hour talking with the florist for nothing."

You laugh softly, overwhelmed but deeply touched. "Thank you," you say, your voice still raw but warm as your gaze sweeps over them. "Really. This means so much."

Felix grins, leaning over Changbin's shoulder. "Told you she was hot as fuck," he mutters, earning a sharp elbow from Minho.

"I will end you," Minho snaps, though his glare lacks any real heat.

Jisung throws an arm around your shoulders, his grin wide and boyish. "You fucking crushed it, Y/N. Like, holy shit. That split? I almost died."

Jeongin leans against the wall, smirking. "Well, we weren't gonna miss it. Minho and Jisung wouldn't shut the fuck up about how amazing you were. Turns out, they were right."

Amid the chaos, your eyes find Hyunjin's again. He stands slightly apart from the group, his hands tucked into his pockets, but the private smile he gives you is enough to make your cheeks flush. It's quieter than the bouquets, the noise, the shouts, but it's the most meaningful thing in the room.

The Alpha Phi frat house feels unusually subdued as you and Hyunjin step through the front door. The muffled echoes of laughter and music drift up from the living room, but the usual chaotic energy is missing, leaving the air strangely calm. Hyunjin's hand brushes yours lightly as he leads you toward the stairs, a touch so casual yet electric it sets your nerves on edge.

He glances back at you, his dark eyes flicking over your face. "You're quiet," he says softly, his voice barely carrying over the creak of the stairs.

"I'm... processing," you reply, your tone just as quiet. "This whole night has been... a lot."

Hyunjin's lips quirk into a small smile, but there's something unreadable in his expression. "Good 'a lot' or bad 'a lot'?"

"Definitely good," you admit, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Just... new."

His laughter is a low, warm hum. "I think you'll like this next part, then."

When you reach his room, he pauses at the door, his hand lingering on the knob. He looks at you for a beat, as if debating something, before pushing it open and stepping aside to let you in.

The room is cozy, in that effortlessly personal way that feels so much like Hyunjin. His bed is neatly made, a dark throw blanket draped at the foot. The desk is cluttered with sketchbooks, pencils, and a scattering of erasers that looks less like a mess and more like a workspace frozen in the middle of inspiration. An easel stands in the corner, a sheet draped over it, and the faint scent of paint lingers in the air, mingling with the warm spice of his cologne.

You step inside, your gaze sweeping the space. "I think this is the cleanest frat room I've ever seen."

Hyunjin snorts, closing the door behind him. "High standards for myself. Low standards for the rest of these idiots."

You laugh softly, perching on the edge of his bed as he moves to the easel. "Okay," you say, gesturing to it. "You've been hyping this up all night. What is it?"

He hesitates for a moment, his fingers brushing the edge of the sheet as he glances at you. There's a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, quickly masked by his usual confidence. "It's something I've been working on. For you."

"For me?" you echo, your brows knitting together. "Hyunjin, what-"

He pulls the sheet away in one smooth motion, cutting off your question. The painting underneath steals the air from your lungs.

It's you. Caught mid-motion, your body curved in an elegant stretch, one arm arched high above your head as if you're reaching for something just out of frame. Your hair cascades around your shoulders, and your lips are curved into a soft, genuine smile, the kind you rarely catch in your reflection.

The colours are warm and rich, a mix of soft golds and deep reds, your figure glowing against an impressionistic blur of background. The strokes are deliberate yet fluid, the details so intricate it feels alive, like it could move at any moment.

You stare at it, your hands gripping the edge of the bed. "Hyunjin," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "It's... it's stunning. I don't even know what to say."

He steps closer, his hands shoved into his pockets as he watches your reaction. "It's how I see you," he says simply. "Effortless. Alive."

Your chest tightens at his words, and you glance back at the painting, overwhelmed. "I don't... I don't think I've ever looked at myself like this."

He shakes his head, his voice quieter now. "That's the problem, isn't it? You don't see what everyone else does. You don't see what I see."

You look up at him, your heart hammering in your chest. "And what do you see?"

He tilts his head, a small, wistful smile tugging at his lips. "I see someone who makes the world brighter just by existing. Someone who laughs like it's a gift. Someone who makes me want to be better. Fuck, I see someone who makes me."

You blink, your throat tightening as his words sink in. The painting blurs in your peripheral vision, eclipsed by the intensity of his gaze. "You really mean that?"

"I don't say shit I don't mean," he murmurs, stepping closer. His hands come to rest on either side of you, gripping the bed as he leans down slightly. "You've been in my head since the moment we met. You're in everything I do. Every sketch. Every brushstroke. You're everywhere."

Your breath catches, and before you can overthink it, your hands find the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. Your lips meet his, and it's like the world tilts on its axis. His kiss is hungry and insistent, his hands sliding to your waist and pulling you flush against him. His teeth graze your bottom lip, and you gasp softly, your fingers tangling in his hair as he deepens the kiss.

Hyunjin groans low in his throat, his hands tightening on your hips as he lifts you onto the bed. You gasp again, your back arching slightly as the cool fabric of his comforter contrasts with the heat of his touch. His lips move to your jaw, then your neck, and the sensation sends shivers down your spine.

"Fuck," he breathes against your skin, his voice rough. "You don't know what you do to me."

You pull his face back to yours, your eyes locking onto his. "Show me," you whisper, your voice trembling but steady.

His gaze darkens, but there's a flicker of tenderness in his expression as he kisses you again, slower this time. His hands cradle your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as if you're something fragile and precious. The air between you is charged, every touch, every kiss laced with unspoken promises.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads rest together, your breaths mingling. "I don't think I'll ever be able to look at myself the same way again," you admit softly, your fingers tracing the edge of his jaw.

"Good," he murmurs, his lips curving into a faint smile. "Because I'm not letting you forget how incredible you are."

The painting stands quietly in the corner, the soft glow of the room's light casting a warm shadow over it. It's a testament to everything you've been and everything you're becoming. A reflection of how he sees you. And as you sit there, tangled together in the quiet of his room, the world outside feels a million miles away.

General Taglist: @nightmarenyxx

[signanothername]

What makes an Undertale AU like interesting and fun to get into?? I’ve always wanted to make one but I’m terrified no one will like it

Ok before i answer i’d like to make it clear that my answer is not objective or correct, i’ll only be talking about my own point of view of what makes an AU interesting to get into (it’ll also be a good idea for you to ask this question to different people to see their point of view, so you’d get an idea of what people usually care about)

So with that in mind, for me it’s the uniqueness of the Au

But don’t get me wrong with this point, what I mean by uniqueness of the Au is whether the Au’s concept take interesting twists and turns, the base concept or main idea can be like other Aus or it can have similarities with other Aus it’s fine

To elaborate further, let’s take a look at “Something New” and “Dusttale”, both Aus’ main concepts are Sans killing everyone in the underground, but this is where the similarities end, cause we can all agree that Killer and Murder couldn’t be further from being different, with different motives, different stories, different characteristics, etc

It’s completely fine if the Au has similarities with other Aus, but what does the Au have that’s different/unique about it? Does it explore something that’s been explored before but with its own unique take? Or does it explore a new idea/story?

To give you an example, @byrdblood ‘s TAU is an Au that I was immediately immersed into, and while it focuses on the Nightmare gang (which so many other Aus do btw), Keegan is using their amazing Au to explore concepts in so much depth and detail that nobody usually explores, which are all also explored through the pov of their own unique character called “Abaddon” (my beloved), who Keegan uses to explore their own ideas, what I’m saying, is that while Keegan is using characters that people have used before in so many stories and Aus, Keegan still brought his own unique take on the characters with emphasis on exploring traits and characteristics that people usually don’t really think of, all while bringing his own new and unique character into the mix to explore Abaddon’s unique story as they try to reach their happy ending (correct me if I’m wrong about any info here Keegan i’ve yet to read the carrd in full hchchcch)

Hell, you don’t have to bring in an idea, your Au can simply be unique by exploring a story through the eyes of a character that isn’t usually used in the fandom, for example, i always immediately get hooked to any Au that has Papyrus as the main focus! I really love Papyrus (and believe it or not, but in terms of favorite characters, Papyrus has always been my number one fave character, i prefer him over Sans actually), so when i see Aus exploring Papyrus in a fandom that explores Aus through Sans most of the time? I literally melt with joy, an example of this is the forgettable Au that I’m shaking with excitement to see what its creator has in store for it (the prologue starts tomorrow OML EEEEE)

But i still want to emphasize again that it’s ok for the Au to have similarities with other Aus, we all get inspired by each other and we all have our own fave things to explore even if it was explored a hundred times before, so please don’t get worked up about whether your Au is “unique enough”, or assume that you have to make up a completely new concept that has never ever been explored before for your Au to be interesting, cause believe me, people will recognize your hard work and the love you bore in your own Au, regardless of whether it explores a unique concept or not

With all this in mind, i’d like to emphasize again that this is all from my point of view, my answer isn’t an objective answer that should be taken as a rule for how you should make your own Au

And i have a genuine small advice, when you make the Au, make it so YOU enjoy it, not so it gets popular or that other people love it, i completely understand the desire to have what you worked so hard on and what you love shared with people so people will also love it, i genuinely understand it, but if you only make the Au with whether people would enjoy it or not in mind, it’ll only make you perceive your Au as some sort of burden that you have to perfect or that you have to make into something you yourself don’t even enjoy just so other people love it

And y’know, allow me to get a bit personal here

But I say this as someone who used to base my art and ideas/stories’ worth on numbers and likes and reblogs, etc, by the time i reached 2021? I actually genuinely and legitimately hated my own art, and it reached a point in which i was genuinely contemplating to quit making art altogether, but then i remember taking a 4 months break from social media after, and in that break, i continued making art without posting at all, in which i would literally cry cause i genuinely couldn’t even love what i made anymore, but i still pushed and continued making art, and it took me 3 months before i started liking what i made again, those 4 months reminded me what was genuinely important, why i made art in the first place, I made art cause I love it, i made art cause I enjoy it

And i made the decision after that numbers will never be my priority ever again, i’d be completely lying if i told you that it was easy to let go of the habit to care about numbers (and sometimes even get back to that habit from time to time), but it wasn’t easy at all, it took time, effort, and so much self discipline, but i actually did reach a point where I genuinely just don’t really care, but do you know what helped me not care? I stopped seeing my notes as numbers and start seeing them as people

Cause even if I get 1 single like or 1 single reblog, it is still one person who took time of their day to like/reblog the thing i made

What I’m saying, is there’s no way your Au will never be loved by anyone at all (it’s literally statistically impossible) even if it’s one singular person, someone is absolutely bound to care about your Au, and please cherish the people who care and love your Au even if they’re few, cause even if they’re few, they still love the thing you made y’know? And would definitely love to see what you do with it

And i’ll be the first, if/when you make your Au? Please send it over, i’d love to see your Au and know what it’s about if it’s ok with you (i’ll also reblog the main post you make about it so more people know about it and hopefully love it)

Good luck with it! Don’t let this fear stop you from doing what you love <3333

[shieldofiron]

Dare Me

Frat Boy Stevie is life! Also on AO3!

Steve's mouth tasted like bad decisions and garbage. He groaned, rolling his head further into his pillow like an animal burrowing into the ground.

The hand around his waist answered by pulling him a closer, which sparked something in his brain. His body felt a little sore in some interesting places.

Of course his first thought was about Billy. It wasn't that uncommon for him to wake up like this after a night out at some gay bar, trying to lose his pointless crush on the dance floor.

But this was different. His sheets didn't smell right. His hair didn't smell right, not like his hairspray.

The night came back in bits and pieces, in between waves of nausea.

It had been Jason's idea, and Tommy was just sober enough to drive them through the night to the lights of Vegas, chanting their frat's chant whenever he started to get tired. Steve'd been stuffed in the backseat next to Billy, trying to ignore the searing heat of his thigh, the way he looked at Steve over his cell phone, blue bedroom eyes lit by the glow of his dating apps. The way he called Steve Bambi, all low and lilting. Smoother than tequila.

Drinking came easy, and besides, it was Vegas. Of course they got smashed, fighting their hangovers with more and more. Though the thought of taking even one sniff of alcohol now made him want to hurl.

Last night they'd been at some... show or something? An Elvis impersonator, he remembered that, and a woman in a showgirl outfit. He remembered crawling into the fountain at the Four Seasons and almost losing his Tau Sigma hat for... something.

The man next to him groaned, pulling Steve even closer and burying his face in the back of Steve's neck.

A name, he really needed to remember a name, but all that was coming forward was Billy... Billy in the fountain, laughing with his pant legs rolled up. Billy in the backseat of an uber, in the dark. Billy talking to Elvis, all blue bedroom eyes. Billy...

Oh no.

Steve shot up, swallowing against the urge to throw up.

Billy groaned, his hair sticking up in a frizzy halo around his head.

"Billy get up!" He shook at Billy's bronze shoulder.

"Five more minutes, baby, I'll make you breakfast."

Steve huffed, opening his mouth to reply before he bolted out of bed to throw his guts up.

He caught a glimpse of a cheap gold looking ring on his finger as he knelt down on the tile and let it rip, almost jumping when he felt a hand softly rub his shoulder blades.

"Billy," He groaned miserably, head hung in the toilet bowl, "We got married."

"What?"

Steve shoved back from the toilet, practically falling into Billy's arms, "I think we got married last night."

"Holy fuck, dude," Billy's brow furrowed, and then his eyes widened and he stared at Steve. Blue bedroom eyes. The whole nine yards.

"Do you remember anything?"

Billy's eyes slid to the ground, "Uh..."

Steve rubbed his hands over his face, "Oh my god, Billy. Fuck."

"Let's go back to bed. I'll order room service."

"Why are you not freaking out more?" Steve covered his eyes, "Billy I'm so fucking sorry."

"What are you sorry for, Bambi?"

"I just... I must have... dared you do do this or something. I'm so fucking sorry." He jerked away from Billy, scrambling against the tub.

Billy frowned, "And what makes you think I didn't do this... on my own."

"What do you mean?"

Billy just stared down at him, licking his lip, "Bambi..."

Steve shook his head, just a little, not understanding.

"Why would you have dared me?" Billy asked, cocking his head to the side.

"I mean, obviously... it's a j-joke or something."

"A joke?"

"No I mean...." Steve ran his hands through his hair.

"You like me, Bambi?" Billy smiled, and Steve's stomach dropped to the cold, nasty tile floor.

"I... I just mean..."

"Because I like you. Obviously."

Steve shifted, bumping into the bathtub.

"Don't fuck with me." Steve said softly.

Billy crawled closer. His eyes darted over Steve's face, blue gone electric in the shitty bathroom lighting.

"I'm not fuckin' with you."

Steve backed as far as he could against the tub, "You're not mad."

Billy shook his head, taking Steve's jaw in his hand, "I could never be mad at my husband."

Steve shivered, "Don't kiss me I just threw up."

Billy smiled, and his eyes lit up like the lights of Vegas, "Dare me?"

[yanderambling]

I'm already loving your posts

what do you think about a yandere assistant and villain reader?

They would be so frustrated because the reader is spending all theirs energies thinking of a plan to capture the hero and not giving them enough attention.

100% would kill the hero behind reader's back

i'm so glad! and yes please i love a jealous little creep, i'm already obsessed <3

concept: Henchman!Yandere(gn) x Supervillain!Reader(gn)

words: ~700

CW: 18+, yandere behavior, stalking, breaking/entering

You look so alluring when you scheme. No earthly or heavenly beauty could compare to the mere sight of you:

The stern concentration pinching your brow just slightly, your arms flexing as you clench and release your fists over and again, your lip idly drawn between your teeth on blessed occasion- it’s enough to make someone bite through their tongue (just partially, and it was only twice).

Tau watches you plan for hours a day (even when they technically have other tasks to carry out), they like to imagine it’s them you’re looking at with such a single-minded focus (perhaps knelt over them on your bed, deciding precisely which ways you want to take them apart).

What they wouldn’t give for just a fraction of the attention you constantly bestow upon that sniveling little “hero”. It’s not even like the hero has done anything to deserve your dedication, not like Tau has.

No, all they did was beat you (which few have ever done). And then… keep beating you (which none have ever done).

Tau knows how much you hate to lose, lower grunts have payed with their lives for Uno games, but… there’s something more to your preoccupation with that vigilante wannabe.

They can see it in the way your bright eyes flick about the room, the way your lips just barely part as you mumble strategy and probability, the way you zone out during meals (that they made for you, naturally) then dart up to your office to test an idea, the way you constantly stay up well into the next morning trying out new inventions and gadgets to take them down- Tau hates to think it, but they know it’s true:

This hero is… motivating you.

As delightful as it is to see you so lively, Tau can’t help the furious jealousy that roils in their gut almost constantly these days.

Why can’t they be the one to make you feel like this? Why can’t they challenge you, inspire you? Why can’t they bring that spark to your eyes?

They should be able to.

They’ve been by your side since the beginning, supporting and encouraging you through every high and low, they know you better than anyone does (yourself included)- and, goddamnit, they deserve it! They’ve given everything to you, and all they ask for in return is a second glance (then a third, then a fourth, then- oh, just stop looking away already!)

It's just not fair- that boot kisser gets every second of your free time, every spare thought, all 'cause they can take (...and deal) a couple hits? (More than a couple; Tau has definitely tried to take them down on many a solo mission, and they've always come out worse for it. They don't wanna talk about it.)

At the very least, they do get to spend a little more time with you, even if it's to watch you obsessively plan for the hero's interruption of your next evil venture.

They're still the one by your side.

They still get to stand at your shoulder and pass you tools as you work on a project (and bite their cheek every time your fingers touch to hold back a moan).

They still get to brush their shoulder against yours while you both stand over a blueprint (and then spend the next fifteen minutes trying not to hyperventilate and/or enter cardiac arrest).

They still get to hang up your cloak after a strenuous mission (and bury their nose in it until the edges of their vision go dark, and lick your sweat off the collar until their tongue is raw, and rub the damp material across their skin until they can feel you all over them).

(They still get to sneak into your bedroom every night with the spare key they made under your nose. They still get to pant over your face as they bask in your glory, as they breathe your breath. They still get to oh so carefully interlace their fingers with your own, intoxicatingly warm ones, they still get to pretend you'd ever want to hold them.)

Yes, they're still very much happy with their position- they'll just be much happier once that nuisance is taken care of.

Then, they can focus solely on aiding you in your endeavor for world domination, and you can focus on what really matters: them!

thanks so much for reading! feel free to send a request <3

check my pinned post~

[theriverbeyond]

just finished chapter 8 of the fifth season and i feel like it always takes me 3 rereads to be able to understand a story enough to say anything of note but Im filled with "wanna talk about it" energy anyway because it is really incredibly good so far

to be somewhat unoriginal with regards to what i compare it to, i think it has the narrative voice intentionality that I like in the Locked Tomb -- not only the 2nd person portion but also the like, self awareness of the narration itself is very much my favorite kinda thing. It swaps POV between different characters/narrators(?) and I like how easy it is to tell whose head we are in, like the character voices are really distinct and strong. It is all generally less flowery than The Archive Undying, whose prose I did adore, BUT I can tell what everyone is doing, which I can't say for TAU.

It engages explicitly & directly with violence, sexual abuse, race and empire etc topics to similar depths as Baru Cormerant -- I think it is going at them somewhat more obliquely vs Baru but that makes sense based on the characters we see the world through -- a child, a woman who's brain is frozen by grief, one who compartmentalizes everything etc. also the pacing is better than Baru IMO but we shall see how the rest of the book pans out. anyway excited to read more! 🫡

[husbandhoshi]

LILY HI ITS ME STAR!!! HOW ARE YOU I LOVE U AND WISH U ALL THE BEST MUAH MUAH!! also: perhaps smth a little naughty at 11:36 PM with lab partner!wonwoo 👀👀

tags: college!au, inexperienced!wonwoo x f!reader, nerd!wonwoo, experienced!yn, oral (m!receiving)

[11:36]

wonwoo has never liked chemistry.

the periodic table looks like a colorful placemat and a titration might as well be a long winded recipe for a terrible cocktail. (although the ones at the delta tau delta chemistry themed party were good. they served them in little beakers, and wonwoo thought those were quite cute. that was also the party where he met you.)

speaking of you—unlike chemistry, wonwoo does, however, like you a great deal.

which makes chemistry much more tolerable because you are his lab partner.

on the first day of lab, when they had asked the class to pair up, you walked over to him, and wonwoo almost melted right into the ground.

"you're the only one here i know," you whispered, waiting for him to lean down to your height. he did, and you smelled like cherries. "we talked at the delt party. wonwoo, right?"

"yes, i'm wonwoo," he had said, words tripping and tumbling off of his tongue like he was learning to speak for the first time.

it was no better at the party, except he was drunk and you were drunker, and you had made the grave mistake of asking him what classes he was taking. two mike's hard lemonades and a battery acid vodka shot later, his dumb ass was still talking about emily dickinson, and you, somehow, were standing there in those mile-high heels, listening as if he was the most interesting guy at the party.

i think she's totally into you, mingyu had said, in that loud, spitty cadence he has when he's 90% beer.

don't be ridiculous.

but then you had asked wonwoo to walk you to your dorm, and you took the long way, winding right through campus.

he doesn't dream often, but he thinks the one he had that night was red and smelled like your lip gloss.

now, he thanks god for the miracle that is you in an oversized hoodie and shorts in his room past sundown.

granted, you're there to work on the last lab report of the term, and he had seen you just two nights ago at the kappa party, but wonwoo thinks he likes this version of you best. (that night, you had tried to break in your new heels. he ended up holding onto them, and you ended up holding onto him on the drunken stumble home. whether it was for support or for something else, wonwoo doesn't know, but he wishes he wore something different than the ratty polo from the back of his closet.)

"thanks for all your help," you say, closing your lab notebook. "i don't know how you're so good at all of this."

"i'm not," he laughs. he hands you your pencil case with the sailor moon charm, the one you were so proud to show him when he mentioned he watched anime. "it was all you."

you wave him off and bend down to put your things in your bag.

wonwoo tries his best to avert his eyes. he really does.

it's a valiant effort. there's a book out of order on his shelf (anna karenina, tolstoy). he really should have put that gundam figure away before you came over.

and your ass is perfect, but that doesn't really surprise him because he doesn't think there is a single thing wrong with you.

"you know," you start, still rifling around in your bag. "i heard something real interesting from mingyu the other day."

"hm?"

wonwoo changes the backlight color of his keyboard. it does not make him calmer. instead he feels all the peely leather on his gaming chair poke through his sweats and he tries not to think about the little birthmark you have on the back of your thigh.

"he told me that..." you stand straight and turn to face him. there's a fresh coat of gloss on your lips, like a magic trick. "you have a crush on me."

wonwoo doesn't know what to say. he likes to think before he speaks but now you're walking towards him and thinking isn't really an option anymore.

"right?"

"um."

not good. he didn't think he was that obvious but he's no liar.

"fine, i'll start." you're standing right in front of him now, and he thinks the gulp he takes is audible. "i like you."

he watches your lips form around the words, glittery and confident, and if he wasn't doomed before, he certainly is now.

his near perfect gpa is doing jack shit to help him understand why someone like you, gorgeous and funny and smart and popular, would ever take a second look at the gangly boy in the glasses.

but you are—in fact, you're staring with an intensity that makes him afraid you can actually see right through all the clothes he's got on.

"i—" come on, wonwoo thinks. they're the words he wanted to tell you outside your dorm building three weeks ago when you said you didn't know anyone quite like him. "i like you too. a lot."

"good."

the first thing he learns is that you're forward, and he likes that.

the second thing he learns is that your lip gloss tastes like cherry.

your mouth is hot and soft on his. he thinks he died and went to heaven, and then you're kissing him again, catching his bottom lip between your teeth so he whines into your mouth.

the last time he tried kissing was during senior prom. his date stood on her tiptoes and he accidentally bumped his nose into hers and missed her mouth and the whole thing was a disaster.

and yet now, wonwoo feels like he's melted right into your hands. you lead and his body just knows how to follow.

"you're shy, huh?" you murmur, pulling back to look at him. "that's so cute."

he doesn't quite know what he looks like but his glasses are slipping down his nose and he feels the menthol sting of your lips all over his. there has never been this much blood in his cheeks but that doesn't quite make sense to him because he feels all of it going straight to his dick.

"you're perfect," is what the primordial ooze in wonwoo's brain manages to put together.

you kiss him again, and when he remembers to relax his lips enough, you're slipping your tongue in and letting him suck, and you moan.

wonwoo swears he could have blown his load right there and then—when it came to you, it really didn't take much, and now he's wondering what your skin tastes like, craving the cherry of your cunt.

your hand on his chest, sharp nails and glittery rings, trails down nice and slow. it feels like he's on fire. it's a wonderful distraction from the sensation of your teeth on the pretty, taut skin over his collarbone, but then you're biting and licking and he feels his balls get so tight and heavy in his pants he might just cry.

and then your hand comes to rest on his lap, right over his hardness, and wonwoo's about to protest—no, no, sorry, i don't mean to have a boner! i've never been kissed like that before in my life!—until you drop to your knees, right in between his parted thighs.

"has anyone ever touched you like this?" you say, voice low, dizzying. "anyone ever made you feel good?"

he shakes his head no, a new, sudden wave of desire climbing his bones.

mussed hair and swollen lips, you look more beautiful than anyone wonwoo's ever seen in his entire life. he doesn't know what he did in a past life to earn this but he must have saved the world.

"p-please," he says, but it's somewhere between a moan and a gasp because you're palming him through his sweats, the sensation foreign, thrilling.

"patience," you tease, and he would be morbidly embarrassed at the spot of precum on his pants if you weren't already thumbing at it yourself.

once you take his cock out of his sweats, he knows he's losing whatever battle he was fighting. he sees how your hand looks so little around it, and it's his nth struggle to make sure he doesn't just cum in your face. maybe another day, if he's so lucky.

"i-i might cum really fast," he confesses, because he doesn't know how to really say he's never gotten a blowjob before.

"good," you answer. unlike him, somehow you always know exactly what to say.

the third thing wonwoo learns that day is that he's fully, wholly, entirely obsessed with your mouth. with your slick bottom lip, with your tongue, and now with the way he sees your gloss-smeared mouth wrap taut around his cockhead.

wonwoo can never return to watching porn again. there is simply no one quite like you.

"f-fuck," he pants, the feeling overtaking him all at once. "feels so good, mouth's so good—"

one look at your eyes, big and watery and good for him, and he feels his cock twitch in your mouth. and then you start moving; you take him all the way to the base and then some. he feels your tiny little throat close around him, and the groan he lets out is nothing short of pornographic. he never thought he was that big, but seeing your eyes well up and your mascara get all dewy as you gag around him is doing something crazy to his brain.

it doesn't take long for you to fall into an easy rhythm. you're figuring him out so fast, and that would scare him if it didn't feel so good. your tongue's on his veins, the underside of his cockhead, and he's already gripping the armrests of his chair with white knuckles.

you sink down again and swallow around his length, let your throat do all the work, and wonwoo throws his head back, chest heaving. his eyes flutter shut, and the fluorescent ceiling light phases in and out of vision as you give him what could possibly be the best head you've ever given someone in your whole life.

"gonna cum s-soon," wonwoo manages. "you're so fucking hot."

it's either a moan or a whimper that comes out of you when he says that, and he thanks his lucky stars he has the wherewithal to put that information in his back pocket. he doesn't know when or how but his plan is to return the favor to you in full. and if that involves a copious amount of praise, he's all the better prepared because he has no shortage of nice things to say about you.

you take him once, twice to the base and wonwoo feels all the heat in his balls and his belly and then he's cumming, more and harder than he ever thought possible. he almost thinks it's like a piece of his soul was taken from him.

"d-don't have to swallow," he says, but you do, every last fucking drop until it's dribbling from your perfect mouth, and wonwoo is now fully convinced you are a real life goddess.

i'm an addict in the making, he thinks, but then you smile at him with those eyes, and he doesn't think that's such a bad thing.

he searches for the right words to say, something cool, experienced. it's a constant effort to be that guy for you because he's still not really sure why any of this happened.

"stop thinking so hard," you say, coughing once, then wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "i can see your wheels turning."

how you can read him so easily is beyond him. he wonders if you knew he was in love with you the second he laid eyes on you at the delta tau party.

where are my manners, wonwoo then remembers, and the post-nut clarity possesses him to brush the hair out of your eyes and help you up from your position on the ground.

"i like you. i don't care how experienced you are."

he hears you, and he believes you. instead of arguing, he cups your tear-streaked face in his hands and uses his thumbs to wipe your cheeks.

"plus, i think i'm a pretty good teacher."

you smile, and wonwoo has the confidence to kiss you back, for real this time.

[thewulf]

It Takes Time || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Summary: Request - Maybe where you're Iceman's daughter and assisting Maverick with teaching the daggers and everyone's respecting you. But due to everything in him telling him to not do it, Bradley Bradshaw falls for you and you resist him... Read Rest Here

A/N: 3 x 1 – the three times you and Bradley nearly cross the line and the one time you do. Changed up the request a bit, hopefully you don’t hate it. I love a good comfort, especially when its Bradley Bradshaw.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Y/N

Word Count: 4.5k +

One – The Meeting

“And your teachers for this mission, Captain Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, and Captain Y/N “Sunny” Kazansky.” Cyclone introduced the two of you. Your father had called in a favor and got you stationed back at Top Gun out to help your fathers longtime friend out. Mav was like an uncle to you at this point. With your recent promotion to Captain, it was time to test the waters out as a more senior leader anyway.

You heard the murmurs. You were sure they were all curious as to who the two of you were. They all likely knew about Mav. You’d flown under the radar as much as possible. Your eyes darted around the room until they landed, and stayed, on the handsome looking brown curly haired pilot with doe eyes who was staring right at you. You subtly looked back at Maverick careful not to look back at the unashamed pilot. He, however, couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He’d heard about you. Just as ruthless as your father in the sky but as sweet as could be on the ground, hence your callsign Sunny. You’d all but managed to draw his attention away from Maverick, the man he swore he would hate for as long as he lived.

What Bradley wasn’t expecting was your sheer beauty as you stood next to Mav. You’d moved up through the Naval rankings quickly and everybody talked about that, but nobody had mentioned just how fucking pretty you were. Sure, he’d seen pictures, but you’d always been covered by a helmet or bandana. Now that you were standing him front of him he was at a loss from words. He had a hard time drawing his gaze away from you even as Mav called on him. He gulped knowing he was in grave trouble.

“Captain Kazansky, how’s your father doing?” The blonde pilot sitting towards the front asked before Maverick could get into the spiel he had planned. You cocked your eyes towards the pretty boy. Why was he asking? Did he know your fathers cancer was back and more bitter than ever? Or was the pilot simply just trying to make a name for himself? You knew who he was, but you didn’t know how he acted. That was the only problem with learning about a person through a sheet of paper.

“He’s wonderful. Thanks for asking Lieutenant.” You didn’t give him a smile nor a frown, emotionless. You studied him as he studied you. You saw Mav give you the side eye, a break in your voice indicating that was anything but the truth. Mav decided he wouldn’t push you right now, not when you looked like you were going to break down. Only he could know that though. He’s known you your entire life. He knew your tells. You’d never flown with the pilots in front of you. They were none the wiser to the giveaways. But Mav knew. Admiral Kazansky was not alright. Maybe, just maybe, that’s why he was here.

Mav cleared his throat letting the class know he meant business now. He started his speech with the overdramatic manual throwing. You told him he was being over the top. He clearly disagreed and went with you. He got the reaction from the class that he wanted with that stupid little Maverick smirk spread across his face. While you were watching Mav and thinking of the blonde boy and his angle Bradley had kept his eyes trained on you. He couldn’t get enough of you. Not even with Maverick standing right there next to you. He didn’t seem to matter.

When Mav dismissed the class you hung back waiting for the room to clear. You were doing the coaching and teaching from the ground today while Mav taught in the air. Not paying much attention as you put the chairs back in line you hadn’t noticed Bradley hanging back with you. He wasn’t selected in the first group to go flying so what’d he have to lose? He had time to change and get ready.

“You’re the admiral’s daughter?” He spoke breaking your concentration. He shied away seeing you jump out of your skin.

Spinning around on your heel, you weren’t aware you had an audience, “One of them, yes.” You nodded eyeing him over. Bradley Bradshaw. You knew everybody in the class already. You knew his dad flew with Maverick. You knew he and Mav were in rocky waters right now after Mav pulled his papers all those years ago. You knew so much about him, but he knew nothing of you. It almost felt like you were cheating a bit.

He gave you a curt nod, “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Your eyebrow raised at that one, studying him, he’d heard a lot about you huh? You could’ve said the same, for much different reasons. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to have a clue though.

He continued on seeing as your curiosity didn’t falter, “People talk. A lot. Especially about the admirals daughter who is actually good. Almost as infamous as Maverick.” His tone of voice changed to one of a bitter man once he referred to his long-lost father figure he’d grown to love throughout the years.

“I’m taking that as a compliment, Bradshaw.” You smiled taking a step towards the much taller man. His picture really didn’t do him justice. While the blonde pilot was pretty, Bradley was strikingly handsome. Exactly your type. You swore off pilots long ago though, you knew who they were through and through. You were one of them. You knew exactly how they thought. How the job came first, the job always came first.

Enjoying his surprised reaction, you simply waited for a reply. He seemed a little tongue tied as you eyed him. You didn’t notice his stuttering as you were taking him in, all of him.

He nodded his head rapidly once your eyes landed back on his, “You should Sunny.”

Two – The Time You Knew You Liked Him

“Whatcha reading there Sunshine?” Bradley’s voice made your eyes tear away from the page quickly. It was your usual lunchtime ritual. Get your stuff and head outside for an hour to eat and read. The only time you could get away from the chaos of the day.

Closing the book you handed it to him, “Pride and Prejudice?” He asked turning the worn-down book in his hand.

You hummed, “My favorite.”

He sat down next to you on the picnic bench you were sitting at, “Why’s that?” He asked genuinely. You were opening up to him and he’d take anything. He wanted to know anything and everything about you. The more he knew the deeper he fell. It was inevitable really.

You thought for a moment before answering, “Because love is messy, fucked up and not always up to just the one you love. It dives into so many different messed up scenarios and navigates through them flawlessly. Lizzie is just, she’s the perfect narrator for her own story.”

He looked awestruck at your answer. He knew you were smart, but you were eons ahead of him. No wonder you’d risen to Captain so quickly. It just made sense. You were truly the whole package. Smart, beautiful, funnier than he could’ve ever thought. He liked you a whole lot and he was on a mission to make you like him just the same.

“Have you read it before?” You asked all too curiously.

He shook his head looking at it, “No, mind if I borrow it after your done?” He didn’t miss a beat. If it was your favorite he was sure as hell going to go stop by the bookstore and pick up a copy on his way home. He’d read the whole damn thing tonight if it meant he’d see that smile tomorrow when he talked about it with you. He was smitten. And he was completely fine with it. You’d managed to do it without even trying too. He knew it was over for him.

Beaming up to him you simply nodded, “Take it. It’s yours to borrow. Treat her well though. I’ve had that copy since college.”

He held it down to his abdomen tightly, “Consider her protected, at all costs.”

You grinned playing along with him, “I expect nothing less B.”

“B?” He cocked his head towards you. He had to admit it sounded damn good rolling off your tongue.

“Yeah, for Bradley. Get it?” You smirked this time playing along with him.

He shook his head while pinching your hip. A small yelp and a shiver of goosebumps erupted from his touch. Damn. Your body was reacting to him now? It might have as well been over for you too.

“Yes Sunny. I get it.” He leaned over whispering in your ear, “And I love the way it sounds coming from you.”

“Fuck off Bradshaw.” You pushed him off biting your lip to stop the smile that was forming.

“Yes Captain.” He just knew how to get right on under your skin didn’t he?

“You’re so annoying.” You laughed loving the time you got to spend with him. He made it so damn easy.

You made it easy for him too, “You love it though.”

“Maybe, just maybe, I do.”

Three – The Moment You Fell In Love With Him

The Lieutenants had just finished up Mavericks bastardized game of football on the beach. You opted on watching from the sidelines, far too much testosterone on the beach for your liking. You couldn’t help but to have your eyes drawn to Bradley’s chiseled frame. God, he was fucking hot, and he knew it. The way he walked around all cocky had you feeling some type of way. Who would’ve thought you’d have a thing for a guy with a cute ass mustache anyway?

“You should really look at somebody else if you didn’t want to make it too obvious Y/N.” Penny smirked walking right on up to you.

A light blush was surely rising on your cheeks, “What are you talking about Penny?” Pursing your lips, you turned your eyes away from his perfectly sweaty body that was literally glistening in the setting sun. Fuck, you were toast.

Her smile was one of a woman who knew more than she was letting on, “Bradley Bradshaw is what I’m talking about Kazansky.” Her cool smirk let you know she knew exactly how you were feeling.

“Am I making it that obvious?” Knowing you weren’t going to be able to talk yourself out of this one you just leaned into it.

She shrugged, “You’ve been eyeing him like a candy bar for the last twenty or so minutes.”

“Can you blame me?” You bit your lip in sheer frustration. Why him? Why a pilot? Why did he have to hate Pete? Why’d it have to be so damn complicated.

A soft laugh came from your longtime family friend. Growing up in San Diego meant that you’d spent your fair share of time with Penny and Amelia. You’d babysat Amelia while you were in high school and she was just a baby.

“He’s not the one I’m looking at.” Wiggling her eyebrows she laughed once more seeing your disgusted face.

“Please don’t talk about Pete like that to me.” A fake gagging noise came from your mouth at the thought

Her laughter continued drawing the attention of Bradley. He grinned seeing you and Penny on the sidelines having your own type of fun. He’d tried relentlessly to get you to join the game, but you were adamant about sitting this one out. Getting trucked by a bunch of six-foot men just didn’t sound super ideal to you.

When you looked back over to him you caught his eyes on you. You flashed him a bright smile while giving him a nervous wave. You’d caught him but he wasn’t looking away, no. No, he was looking right into your damn soul with those eyes. Even from that distance away. You were thankful the sun was out, and you could just blame the blush on the sun.

When Mav blew the final whistle Penny said her goodbyes before finding her boyfriend. Shaking your head and turning away you weren’t expecting Bradley to be right behind you, but here he was. Certainly not shy.

“Bradley,” You laughed off your nerves, “You played well out there.”

He smirked loving the fact that you were watching him, “You think?” He was fishing and he knew it. He loved it when he could break you out of your tiny little shell. He knew he made you nervous, in a good way of course, and he had to figure out how to lean into it. Keep that feeling but calm those nerves just a bit.

Rolling your eyes you shoved his arm playfully, “Yes Bradley. You played great.”

“Thanks honey.” He winked knowing that’d surely throw you for a loop. When your eyebrows raised in sheer confusion he only smiled harder wanting so desperately to grab for a hand but there were far too many prying eyes for that.

“Honey?”

He nodded, “Would you prefer pretty? Darling?  My dove?” His smile only grew in size when he saw your scowl.

“Shut up Bradley.” You knew he was messing with you. He always did.

But something was different this time. His tone of voice? The way he looked at you when he spoke? “I’m not kidding Sunny. I won’t call you that if you don’t want me too though.” So Bradley, leaving the choice up to you. Always making sure you were

You spoke far too quickly in response, “I didn’t say that.” It was like word vomit coming out of your mouth.

It made Bradley far too happy, “Alright darling.” He leaned down closer to you making sure nobody was here, “If we were alone right now I’d ask to kiss you. But since we aren’t we’re just going to have to save that for later, yeah?” He was all too sure of himself now. Especially when he saw the way your mouth dropped a little and eyes shot right to him with nothing but lust in them. He’d done it. He’d won you over.

Before you could answer though a much different voice interrupted your conversation, “Hey mister.” A small hand pulled on Bradley’s much larger one. Both of you looked down at the much smaller child.

“Hey kid.” He smiled warmly to the young boy. So easily he shifted his focus away from the heated exchange and to the boy.

“Uhm, can you play with us?” Your heart about melted right then and there. The soft little doe eyes from the small boy got you. The kid motioned to the football in Bradley’s hand afraid he might say no.

You weren’t sure what he was about to say. You wouldn’t blame him if he found some excuse because he was tried, hungry and wanted to cuddle up on the couch with you. But that wasn’t him, no. That wasn’t Bradley at all.

“You betcha.” He smiled down to him, “Go long.” He waited for the kid to sprint off before throwing the ball down the beach towards him.

“Have fun.” You giggled to yourself seeing the happiness in Bradley’s eyes.

“You know it pretty. Wait up for me, yeah? I can drive you home. Go get yourself a beer. I’ll buy it for you.”

You nodded quickly at his suggestion, “You know where I’ll be Bradshaw.” You smiled waving him off as you walked towards The Hard Deck. Oh boy, Penny and Pete were about to have a field day with this one. You were a goner that was for sure. Turning around and watching him run around with a bunch of eight years old’s made your heart swell ten times. Goner for sure.

Four – The Morning Mav Knew There Was Something More

You weren’t really ready to come back. But you had to. Your bereavement time was up and you didn’t have any vacation to spare. Your father was gone, and you had to accept it. The world continued spinning and so did your life. It didn’t make it any easier though. You’d gotten to work and just sat in the room waiting for the class to trickle in. You were there hours early. Sleep was hard to come by these days for you. It’d only been two weeks since he passed. Two weeks on this earth without your dad. It felt far too fucking lonely without him here.

The mission was only a few days away now. You were back in time to see this through. You weren’t ready though. Not in the slightest. You didn’t know how long you were sitting there staring at the white board in front of you before hearing the door open and close.

Not turning towards the sound only looking forward you were surprised hearing Bradley’s voice, “There you are.” Your head snapped up seeing his exasperated gaze, “You weren’t answering your texts or calls. I got worried so I went over to your place. Didn’t see your car so I came here. Had me scared shitless Y/N.” He was frowning as he slipped into the chair next to you.

“I’m sorry Bradley.” You looked down and away from Bradley feeling all too uncomfortable with his upset gaze on you.

He shook his head afraid he upset you, “Are you alright?” He brushed his fingers under your chin turning your head towards him. His lips pursed when he saw the trail of tears falling down your face. Clearly, you weren’t alright.

Despite all that you still nodded your head, “I’m okay.”

His frown only made the tears continue to spill, “Honey.” And that was all it took for the waterworks to commence. Full on sobs racked throughout your body as you let yourself finally breakdown in his arms. He pulled you onto his lap, annoyed by the small seats. Cradling you close he just let you cry it out. He, of all people, knew exactly how this felt. How suddenly empty you felt. Even if you had all the time in the world to prepare. You’d never hear his voice again. See his face. He was all but memories now, fading at that.

Bradley watched the door making sure nobody saw you in such a fragile state. Not here. He cradled you in his arms while whispering sweet nothings in your ears trying to ground you back to the present. It was hard. Impossible. You’d only lost him two weeks ago and here you were, back to work. Bradley couldn’t imagine that.

“I’m so sorry.” You mumbled once the tears stopped flowing and you’d successfully soaked through his uniform. Not bearing to look at him you kept you head buried in his chest.

“There’s nothing to apologize for pretty.” He kept cradling you, so long as you wanted it. So long as you needed it. So long as you clung to him so desperately.

You took long deep breaths not in the mood to argue with him. Bradley just watched as you calmed yourself down. Clearly embarrassed by the outburst. He knew it was the first of many. You’d have good days, and you’d have days far worse than this. He knew. He was ready to be there for you.

As shitty as you were feeling the cute little terms of endearment he used to calm you down did make your heart sputter as your finally processed his words, “Thank you Bradley.” Mumbling into his chest you couldn’t bear to break the embrace he had you in. It felt too damn good with him holding you like you were the most precious treasure in the world.

His hand brushed down your hair and back in a steady rhythm, “Anytime. Any day. Any minute. Any second.” He leaned down giving your forehead a light kiss. The shiver that ripped down your body might have been a dead giveaway at how you felt when he did so. That’s as far as he’d go though. He couldn’t push you now. Not when you were grieving and broken. He knew he needed to step up and be your comfort now. Hold you when you needed. Let you cry it out even at the weirdest hours of the day. Grief was a bitch, and he had a front row ticket to it. His life seemed like nothing but grief. He knew how to handle it.

Bradley was so focused on you. And you were so focused on hiding from his gaze that neither hadn’t heard the door open and shut. Pete walked in silently, as he always did, not expecting to see the scene before him. Bradley gently rubbing your back as your body was curled into him. It didn’t surprise him per say. He’d noticed the two of you had gotten closer over the last few weeks. Pete paused thinking of what he should do. He could walk out but that risked somebody else catching the two of you. Relationships weren’t forbidden they were just… highly frowned upon. And Ice would be awfully mad at Mav if he let his daughter get in trouble for something so stupid. Especially when you clearly needed it. More now than ever.

Pete did all he could think to do, he coughed. He watched at you shot up from Bradley quickly backing away from him. Pete’s heart could’ve broken right then and there seeing your tear-stained cheeks and disheveled hair. You looked broken.

“I’m so sorry sir. I just…” You gulped rubbing the haziness out of your eyes. You didn’t have an excuse. Bradley was just looking at you with sorrow in his eyes. Pete looked at you with pity.

“Why don’t you take the day Captain?” Pete suggested instead of acknowledging your apology.

You shook you head, “I can’t, I don’t have the time.”

Pete walked over handing you your coat off the top of the desk it was resting on, “I’ll cover. Go. You too Lieutenant.” Pete looked at Bradley giving him a curt nod letting him know it was fine. Mav knew you needed Bradley.

He looked a little shocked but stood from his seat, “Mav, are you sure?”

He nodded, “Take care of her.” He nearly whispered as he walked away from the pair. He walked right on out of the room giving you the space you needed. You could’ve broken down right then and there again had Bradley not pulled you from your thoughts. You felt all the love from your pseudo uncle, so thankful he was in your life.

Bradley pulled you towards the door gently, “You wanna change or just go home?” Bradley asked softly careful not to startle you.

“Home.” You looked up to him afraid you’d run into Phoenix or Halo in the locker room. They’d never judge you. It was just easier to avoid it altogether though.

Giving your hand a squeeze, he smiled right at you, “Let’s go home then honey. We can watch some trashy reality television and order some disgustingly greasy food if you want.”

For the first time in a long time a small smile came to your face, “That sounds perfect B.” He smiled even brighter at that. He adored it when you’d used that nickname on him. If he were honest he’d fallen in love with everything about you. Your laugh. Your smile. Your personality above all else. You were truly like nobody he’d ever met before. He’d be damned to let that slip away from him, not without a fight.

“Follow me out. I’ll drive us home.” You nodded doing as he said. Keeping your face hidden until you got to his truck. The ride home was silent. Bradley talked occasionally breaking you from whatever fucked up thoughts were coursing through your even more messed up brain. It was driving you crazy how much of prisoner you felt your very own brain. You wanted to be happy, to smile but it just wasn’t coming. Not until you fully accepted his death. Your dad wasn’t coming home. Never again. That was a hard cross to bear.

You cuddled up to him on the couch once you got back to your place and the two of you changed. Bradley promised to stay for as long as you’d have him. Joke’s on him though, you’ll never kick him out.

“Can I ask you something?” You questioned him once the two of you had settled on Vanderpump Rules and some pizza. Your favorite comfort food.

“Anything.” Once again he brushed your hair with his hands knowing it calmed you instantly.

“How’d you do it? Losing your mom? Your dad?” You’d asked the question you’d been so afraid to ask before. But y

“Time.” He answered you truthfully, “It takes time.”

You sighed knowing that was likely the answer he was going to give you but not the one you’d wanted to hear, “I was afraid you’d say that.” Your voice wobbled, on the brink of another fresh set of tears.

Bradley pulled you closer, “But I’m here. I’ll be here through everything. The ups, the downs, the bumps. It all. You have me. You have your siblings, your mom. You have people here for you pretty.” He kissed your forehead once more.

You felt a few tears fall at that. Looking up to him you had to ask, “Why? Why are you being so kind to me?”

Shaking his head, he used the pads of his fingertips to wipe the fresh tears away, “I like you. A whole lot more than I really should.” He admitted, laying it all out there for you, “You’re Incredible Sunny. The most incredible woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. I’m here for you. If you’ll have me.”

Ever the gentleman he was. Always leaving it up to you, “You like me?”

He laughed, throwing his head back in amusement, “I think I’ve been rather obvious Kazansky. But yes. I like you. A lot.” He didn’t want to throw the L word out just yet. That was far too soon. But he knew he loved you. He loved every single inch of you. He knew he’d love you for a long, long time to come to. He’d truly, never felt so sure

“Oh,” You grinned feeling the tears dry up, “Then please stay. Stay for a long time.”

He brushed the stray strands of hair out of your face, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like you too. A lot.” Squeezing his hip with your hand you hid your face in his chest feeling all too exposed at that admission of your feelings. It never came easy.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, “Y/N Kazansky, you just made me the happiest guy in the world.”

“Yeah?” You peaked up at him with a grin on your face. Red face of exposure be damned.

“Oh yeah baby.” He cradled you close feeling every joyful emotion course through him. He got you. He fucking got you. He wasn’t going to let this one slip. No. It may take some time to figure it out but that’s what life was about. Time.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mayhemmanaged @hardballoonlove

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[reidslovely]

Just a Tap

Synopsis: Before they were Peter and Bashful they were strangers with an annoying (semi-traumatic) meet cute.

Pairing: Frat!Peter x Fem!Reader/OC

CW: None really, car accident? maybe if you can count that. Swearing.

Reblog or comment in place of liking this post, pretty please.

Pulling out of ESU parking structure six was a hell fest. There was a constant flow of traffic that seemingly never let up, and a ton of pedestrians that would either wait for all the cars to pull out before crossing the path, or simply used the heavy traffic flow to their advantage. (Y/N) pushed her head back into her seat frustrated, why was New York traffic such a nightmare. The highway traffic started to let up and she sat straight up breathing a sigh of relief. 

“Fucking finally.” 

She looked right and then left before letting off her gas, letting her car roll. Out of nowhere a skateboarder rolled in front of her, causing her to barely tap him with her car. But still she felt terrible. She slammed on her breaks, her hands flying up to her mouth. The boy slammed his hands on the hood of her car, throwing his hands up. He was quite obviously laughing at the situation, and did not seem injured at all. Placing her car in park and throwing her flashers on she basically threw herself out of the vehicle, the skateboarder had already started walking away tossing a look over his shoulder. (Y/N), however, was frozen in place. 

“I am so sorry, are you okay? Do you need a ride?” She yelled after him, looking over her shoulder to make sure no other cars were leaving behind her. 

“I’m good! Just wanted to play it up a little bit.” 

 He laughs, turning, his skateboard in hand. “We should both watch where we are going next time.” He yelled back smiling. “You’re too pretty to be hitting boys with your car.” 

(Y/N) shook her head, swallowing the tears that had built up in her eyes. How could he just be joking about this. Then she saw the shirt: yellow with a red Theta Tau logo on it with ‘ESU est. 1930.’ stitched below it. Frat boys. Suddenly she felt less bad for tapping the bleached blonde with her car. 

“But I skate through here the same time everyday, maybe don’t hit me next time okay?” 

“How about I make sure I don’t miss next time?” She yells back getting into her car, now annoyed that he found the whole interaction funny when she was trying to be sincere. The blonde smiled in response, she watched him turn and skate away. She checked both ways multiple times and pulled onto the road heading to pick her friend up from work.

- 

Fraternity row was lit up in all different colors, the first football game of the season had just ended and the whole street was celebrating the victory. M.J. wrapped her arm around (Y/N) as they walked down the street. 

“Come on you seriously can’t still be hung up on the douchebag that skated out in front of you. He was in the wrong not you, he was jaywalking..jay..skating? Doesn’t matter.” The red head shook her head, her curls shaking. “He’s a dick for that and I’ll tell him if we ever see him. Now please relax and party. Please, it's the first big frat crawl of the semester.” 

“Fine..yeah, you’re right.” 

“I know I am.” M.J. kissed her friend's head, and started to say something else before being cut off. 

“Hey! Watson! Hey!”

M.J. and (Y/N) turned their heads quickly trying to spot the voice that came blaring towards them. A head of blonde hair was in front of them in seconds. A lanky guy stood before them engulfing M.J. in a hug which she gladly returned. “Oh my god. Osborn you scared me, hey this is my roommate and friend (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Harry the guy I was telling you about.”

Harry Osborn was a name you were all too familiar with. M.J. had been in love with him since summer orientation when they met and got stuck in the elevator together. They’d been talking ever since. 

“Hey nice to finally meet you.”

“Yeah you too.” Harry smiles at her. “Hey, why don’t you guys come into Theta and party?” He offered up, pointing in the direction of the bright yellow door contrasting against the white siding of the huge house. 

“Look at that line, no thanks.” (Y/N) laughed.

“No no it’s my frat, well I’m a pledge but I can get y’all in come on.”

-

(Y/N) stood against the back wall of the party, a black plastic cup in hand as she sipped the vodka sprite mixture out of it. If she could fold in on herself she would, she didn’t even like frat crawls. She only went because M.J. begged her, and she didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to hang out with her. However, M.J. was nowhere in sight. Osborn had stolen her away as soon as they got into the house. 

“Well..look who it is.” A voice pooked around the corner at her, she jumped slightly. “Oh come on don’t be bashful. You already hit me with your car.” 

It was the blonde guy from yesterday, he leaned against the wall next to her. Smiling at her slightly. “I said I was sorry, you walked out in front of me.”

“I did yeah sorry. But it’s really rude of you.” (Y/N) stomped her foot wanting to crawl in a hole and cry. “I didn’t mean too hi-”

“No not that. I mean not asking for my name..it was the least you could do after all.”

Her brows furrowed, mouth forming a smile ‘o’. Her eyes feel to the ground and she bit the inside of her cheek. 

“Peter Parker..and you?”

“(Y/N) (Y/L).” 

Peter smiled and slid down the wall sitting on the floor, waiting for her to join him. 

“Nice to meet you (Y/N)…again.”

Wrote this very quickly this morning because the lab is empty and have no one coming in until later.

[sallymander40k]

Why The Tau Were Never 'Too Good' For 40k

The Tau were added midway through Warhammer 40,000's 3rd edition, though according to some records the idea had been floating around since Laserburn. In the twenty years since their introduction to the 41st millennium, the Tau have remained one of the most consistently reviled and hated aspect of 40k lore, with all complaints around them boiling down to one core issue: they're too good for 40k. By that, people mean that they are too morally good to fit within the grimdark narrative of the 41st millennium. This has always been the primary complaint levied at them, since they were first introduced in 2001. And GW has seemingly agreed with them, and spent the last 20 years trying to inject grimdarkness into the Tau Empire.

The first attempt to grimdarkify the Tau came very early on, with the Tau campaign in Dawn of War: Dark Crusade

It's explained how in the decade following Tau victory on Kronus the remaining human population was subjugated, oppressed, forced to give up their culture, and eventually simply sterilized and allowed to die off naturally to create a Tau and Kroot ethnostate on Kronus. It explains this over images of prisoners of war being fed to Krootox in prison camps and humans huddling together in slums.

This is obviously a departure from the image of the Tau as it was established in Codex: Tau (3rd Edition), as that codex makes explicit mention of the Tau trading and making alliances with frontier human colonies. This is also a departure from... common sense. Why exactly would the Tau accept Kroot, Vespid, Nicassar, Demiurg, Tarellians and many others into their ranks but then arbitrarily draw the line at humans?

This would become a pattern that I like to call "The Grimderp Tau Cycle." It's not exactly a stretch to say that the Tau are easily the most morally good society in the 41st millennium. Their tolerance toward other species alone makes them head and shoulders above almost any other species in the galaxy. So to remind people that there are no good guys in the 41st millennium and that this is a very serious and grimdark setting that you need to take seriously because there are no good guys or whatever, GW will occasionally have the Tau commit a completely out of character, random, and nonsensical atrocity. This was also seen at the end of In Harmony Restored, the short story that came out alongside 8th edition's Psychic Awakening: The Greater Good.

For context, In Harmony Restored is a short story about a group of Gue'vesa soldiers (human auxiliary troops fighting in the Tau military) performing a desperate defensive rearguard action to halt an Imperial advance long enough for Tau reinforcements to come and smash the delayed invasion force. The Gue'vesa are able to do this, though at great sacrifice to themselves, and then when the reinforcing army does arrive and makes quick work of the Imperial army they then continue on to butcher the Gue'vesa soldiers who performed this valiant holding action for... Seemingly no reason? Assuming the Tau forces thought they were more Astra Militarum soldiers, the Gue'vesa step out of cover pleading for mercy, only to be gunned down. With one of the Gue'vesa at the end noting that the language one of the Battlesuit pilots is using is very reminiscent of the way the Imperium talks about those they've labeled undesirables.

The message here is clear: these humans betrayed the Imperium in order to escape from the Imperium's genocidal regime... Only to end up in the equally merciless clutches of an equally ruthless oppressor. But, from a lore standpoint, that defeats the entire purpose of the Tau. It makes them wholly indistinct and, frankly, boring. But that doesn't even scratch the surface of how stupid this is, because it has clearly been stated in the past that the Tau do not hold bigotries toward client species on the basis of their faiths. And that makes sense.

Not only does this contradict previous lore, not only does it render the Tau a boring palette swapped version of the Imperium, it also just defies practical sense. If you're a race like the Tau, who expand primarily through ingratiating yourself with other races and convincing them to join your collective, you'd naturally want as few barriers between potential client races and joining as possible. No human colony is going to voluntarily join the Greater Good if the Tau's version of the Greater Good happens to require that the human population of that planet lose all sense of their heritage and culture through forced reeducation and the abandonment of their faith, and in the long term for that human population to slowly go extinct through gradual forced sterilization and confinement to ghettos and slums.

It's deeply stupid, lazy writing on the part of GW to repair the image of the Tau in the eyes of a fandom who accused the faction of being "too good." Except, uhm, here's the thing: the Tau were never too good to begin with. Lets rewind back to 3rd Edition's Tau Codex, our first introduction to the Tau in the 40k universe. From the very beginning it was very clear that the Utopian idealism of the Tau Empire held beneath the surface a significantly more sinister and malevolent nature, and it all roots from the mysterious and enigmatic fifth caste of Tau Society: the Ethereals.

In 3rd Edition, the Ethereals are spoken of more like mythological beings than the slightly mundane way they exist in modern 40k. All we know about them out of this book is that they are the autocratic leaders of the Tau Empire who inspire radical devotion among the Tau, though are rarely seen or heard from. They reorganized Tau society with pursuit of the Greater Good in mind first. But the specifics of what that means matters a lot. Tau are born into a caste that roughly determines, from birth, what role in society that person will fulfill. Those born into a caste are not allowed to have children with members of other castes, are not allowed to take up any job or position that contradicts the societal purpose of their caste, and generally lack self-determination in regards to things like career choice.

so, bam, the setup for Tau as a flawed and morally ambiguous faction are already present. They're a faction who fight for a better future, for a galaxy where all can exist in harmony with one another, so long as that harmony is kosher by the standards of the Ethereal caste. In that sense they're somewhat similar to the Dominion from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. A multispecies interstellar collective who seek to create a galaxy harmoniously unified... in service to the Founders. Just taken from this vision of the Tau Empire, they're already an autocratic dictatorship who fight in the name of an ideology that declares itself to be for the greater good of all who ascribe to it while also relying on the assumption that the tyrannical power of the Ethereals must inherently be for the Greater Good. I reject the idea that the Tau were ever "too good" for 40k. Rather that they were written with a realistic level of nuance, with an understanding that dictatorships are built upon cognitive dissonance, not on perfectly consistent virtues.

TL;DR THEY'RE NOT FUCKING COMMUNISTS, THEY LITERALLY HAVE A CASTE SYSTEM, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!

[bubble-leaves]

Hi hello I absolutely love your work!!! It makes me so happy to see you post every time, pls accept ring 🥺👉👈

Because I'm a freak for Jel, and I've read and reread all the headcanons for him, may I please request poly Jel and Hassian? They're my two favourites they're just both so anxious but so full of love 🥰🥰🥰🥴🥴🥴

Hi hello to you too, thank you so much!! I love the picture you sent, it made me laugh lol. And of course, here you go!

Jel and Hassian . . .

- are complete opposites when it comes to hobbies and interests, but they also share crucial similarities: their sassy attitudes, and their undying love for you

- both get along well, aside from the occasional bickering

- are both all over you when you’re finally alone with them

- are both eloquently spoken, so every time they express their feelings for you, it sounds like beautiful love poems

- are introverts; bringing them together through their love for you has made them close friends, and now they have someone else to stick by at parties aside from their lover

- are both soft, affectionate lovers . . . that can be scandalous and teasing if they want to be, to you

- Jel will not let Hassian come into his shop with you unless Hassian cleans the soles of his boots

- You and Hassian will be the cooks due to Jel’s cooking being abysmal; Jel highly appreciates it, although he is embarrassed

- Hassian finds it easy to talk to Jel about you due to their use of formal language; he doesn’t feel jealous at all when Jel explains why you drive him mad with love, too

- Jel absolutely hates when Hassian brings home hunted animals; he chastises Hassian every time, (nauseously) telling him to skin the creature outside, not in their love’s house

- Hassian lets Tau up on your furniture, like your couch and bed, and lets him play in the house; Jel dislikes this greatly, but tolerates it if you don’t mind (if you approve, Hassian will shove that in Jel’s face)

- Hassian chastises both you and Jel if you have poor sleep schedules or skip meals; he values your health, as his lover, but he also values Jel’s, his now closest friend

- Jel often asks if he can sew up pieces of clothing you happened to damage during an adventure; he offers the same services to Hassian, who needs his armor patched every few days

- Jel likes to snuggle you, Hassian likes to snuggle you; you get to keep the middle of the bed!

- Hassian prefers, though, if you're turned toward him in bed, so you can rest your head in the crook of his neck; Jel doesn't mind, as he actually adores spooning you and having full reign over your figure

- Jel and Hassian are bad influences on each other when it comes to you; if one starts acting flirtatious and sly, the other will too. If you're easily flustered, oh dear—they're going to have a ball with you