#a letter from the past || queued ||

[sanguinepeccatorum]

OOC: Gonna filter through my following list today and unfollow inactive, and then probably post a starter call 🤔

[catboyieejeno]

gameboy :: p.js — one

genre: gamer! jisung x gamer! reader, college au cw: female reader, fwb to lovers, explicit smut, pervy jisung, male masturbation, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, inexperienced jisung, cum play/breeding kink, pet names, slight humiliation kink, size kink, creampie, probably more wc: 18.257k

[one] [two]

18+ minors do not interact!

The red letters that flash across your screen read ‘Defeat’, illuminating your dimly lit room with a shy, red hue. The instant the word appears on your monitor, a voice blasts through your headset, erupting in emphatic complaints and protests. You can hear the clatter of a keyboard and mouse being shoved around on the other end of the receiver, and it takes everything in you to stifle your laugh. 

“We definitely could’ve won that!” the boy scoffs, “I swear, sometimes it feels like you and I are the only people with any fucking game sense.” 

“Wow, thanks for the validation,” you joke, instinctively queuing up for another match. Your eyes trail up to the little icon in the corner of the screen that glows green every time he speaks.

“You know what I mean,” he grumbles, and you imagine he must not look all that different from the little crying cat picture he set as his discord icon. The thought makes you snort, but he ignores you, stating, “I think this is my last game,” 

You nod even though you know he can’t see you, “same, I have class tomorrow,”

“First day of the semester for you, too?”  

You nod again. “Unfortunately. My days of gaming until four and sleeping until noon have come to an end.” 

He laughs, leaning forward in his chair as he realizes something, “You know, I never asked what you’re studying,” 

“Oh,” you blink, “Well, the first class I have tomorrow is just a random credit I needed, but I’m actually majoring in-” 

It takes less than a few seconds for your words to drown out into a muffled buzz, and the only thing Jisung can focus on now is the silky, smooth sound of your voice. 

He would never admit it, at least not out loud, but your voice makes his heart beat just a little faster. The way each and every word rolls off your tongue makes his breath hitch, imagination running wild at the thought of what your lips look like when they mold to form each syllable and sound. 

Every night like clockwork, Jisung finds himself rocking side to side in his desk chair, eyes hanging low and round lips curved up into a smile as he listens to you speak.

It’s so easy to talk to him, too. By now, you’ve lost count of how many nights the two of you rambled off in voice chats, watching shows or playing video games or simply oversharing the details of your lives. It’s only been a few months since you met in a game chat, on that night where he practically harassed you for your discord after you carried him up a rank in-game. You’re secretly grateful he did, though you wouldn’t let him know that; the two of you effortlessly became part of each other’s daily routine, and now, calls with you are his favorite way to end the night. Tonight is no exception.

Jisung begins to mindlessly swing in his chair as usual. He’s humming passively between your small pauses to encourage you to keep going as his hands automatically start caressing his torso. It’s a somewhat innocent gesture, or at least it starts out that way: his palms sliding across the ridges of his abdomen as he listens to your voice. It’s better than music to his ears, and it urges his long fingers to dance closer and closer to his waistband.

“–and I thought about changing it, but I think with an degree in Lit, I could probably get a career in–”

Lost in your voice, Jisung slips his hands into his shorts, holding his balls as he fully zones out of the conversation. He knows you’re saying words and forming actual sentences, but his social awareness has dwindled completely and he absolutely can’t seem to get past how sweet you sound, and how much sweeter you would sound under… different circumstances. He moves up to hold his dick gently and furrows his brows. Almost accidentally, his thumb brushes along the underside of his tip, teeth clamping the inside of his cheek and gnawing on it to ground himself. Just as eager as its owner, Jisung’s dick jolts in his palm, progressively swelling up until it’s flushing bright pink. 

“You’re into English?” He manages to stop daydreaming and hone into the conversation for a fleeting moment, just long enough to ask you that simple question and keep your attention off of his rapidly shifting breath.

He’s blatantly playing with himself now, ever so distractedly. It’s an autonomous act: the way the pad of his middle finger trails over his slit to collect a bit of the pre-cum that has begun to dribble out in pearly beads. He hisses, then quickly snaps his mouth shut in hopes that you hadn’t heard him. 

“Yeah,” he can hear your smile in your words, “I think I always have been. I used to read all the time and—I swear, if you say I’m boring, I’ll personally come over and choke you–” 

As he acknowledges reality for a quick moment, his pace falters. His brows pinch, and he feels confused as he realizes he can’t stop or even moderate his actions, despite the shame slowly beginning to wash over him. The more you talk, the harder he grows. His grip is getting tighter, his strokes needier… he must be losing his mind. With a gulp, he thinks to himself, what would you do if you could see him touching himself like this to you? Would you think it’s sick and twisted or would you offer to help him out? His head begins to throb as the room spins around him, but he really can’t seem to slow his motions. By now, he’s bucking his hips up and into his hand while the other covers his mouth, silencing the whines that threaten to leave his throat. He’s breathing heavily, praying to god you don’t somehow notice his perverted actions. Despite knowing that he isn’t thinking straight, Jisung can’t help the thoughts that continue to fog his mind, rampant and obscene. 

Could you hear the squelching of his hand pumping his cock, covered in his pre-release? Or the way he’s practically panting, reduced to nothing at the mere sound of your voice? He’s not sure whether or not his mic would even pick that up, but even so, the corner of his lips curl into a lazy smile as his mind continues down his twisted rabbit hole. 

In spite of not knowing what you look like, there’s no denying that he wants to give you all of him. He wants to feel himself buried deep inside your throat, your pretty voice vibrating around him as you choke on his length. He feels himself twitch in his palm and he subconsciously nods, picturing it's your walls around him instead of his own inadequate hand. Jisung huffs out once, fucking his fist wildly, picturing how much he’d like to feel himself bust inside of your warm, tight pus-

“Sung? Sung!”

“Huh? W-what?” As he yanks his hand from his shorts, the waistband snaps against his skin and he yelps out at the impact, “Sorry! I promise I was listening, it-its just, I got a little caught up with–” words are tumbling out of his mouth, before he can catch up to them.   

“It’s fine, it’s fine! Hurry, just pick your agent before the match gets–” but the timer runs out, and the lobby screen appears once more as you sigh, “–canceled...” 

Jisung glances down at his hand, separating his fingers and watching how the sticky pre-cum leaves webbed strings between each of his parted digits. His stomach is also wet, and the tent in his pants is growing increasingly painful with each passing second. 

“What were you fantasizing about, huh?” Oh, fuck. The teasing edge in your words makes his nerves tingle, and he throws his head back as you hum into your mic, “Hmm. Well, I guess it was more interesting than what I was saying. Can’t blame you though, the topic of school is boring me too, and the semester hasn’t even started yet. Also, that can’t count as your last game. I literally won’t allow it.” 

You queue up for another game and Jisung sighs, watching the timer on the screen tick away. The picture changes, and the two of you are prompted to start a game. A few kleenex wipes collect the mess on his hand and torso, and he settles back in his chair after tossing them, deciding his neediness will have to wait for now.

Bidding you good night is harder than usual tonight, but he knows you need to get to sleep—you mentioned you had an early class and he had his own, so his selfish urge to keep you talking until he came in his hand would, unfortunately, need to take a raincheck.

After logging off of his computer, Jisung drops his head into his hands with a sigh.

What the fuck even was that? 

A mix of shame and arousal take over him as his cheeks begin glowing a deep shade of red. He lets out a small scoff, shaking his head to himself as he gets up from his chair. His dick is still as hard as a rock, and he can’t help but feel flustered at the fact that he has, quite literally, blue-balled himself. 

With a towel swung over his shoulder and a clean pair of sleeping shorts clutched in his fist, Jisung walks up to the dorm’s nearest communal bathroom. He turns on the faucet, freeing himself of his clothes. The moment his boxers come down past his thighs, his length slaps against the skin below his navel, making him hiss out as he steps into the shower. The cold water, running down against his heated body, seems to be doing the trick of clearing his mind, that is, until his hands find their way to his stomach, rubbing the soap over it.

It’s so hard to expel the thoughts of you when they’re so intrusive and tempting, and Jisung lets his mind drift off once more, imagining how it would feel to be touched by you, sucked by you. All the soft noises you would make are weirdly familiar; he can practically hear them. His head falls back, lips caught between his teeth as he twitches and gives himself an experimental stroke, shuddering as his thumb glides across the slit of his sensitive tip. He clenches his eyes shut tighter, letting out a shaky sigh and letting the water continue to trickle down his body. He doesn’t know what you look like, other than your hair color which you mentioned the other day. Despite that, he still tries desperately to piece an image of you together behind his eyelids, picturing what your lips are like. And just like that, thoughts of you flood him, and he shudders at the vision of you on your knees, looking up at him with big, innocent eyes, begging to taste him and take all of him. He longs to feel you swallow around him—to grab either side of your face and thrust into your needy mouth until the tears slip from your eyes and your pussy is dripping from the need to be fucked.  

Getting lost in the moment, he doesn’t even realize how loud he’s becoming and how fast his fist is working his dick. Jisung's highly anticipated release is only seconds away when a loud knock startles him, lunging him right back into his body.

“Yo, man! How long are you gonna take in there?” His friend and next door neighbor, Mark, shouts from the other side of the door, knocking again and ruining Jisung’s fantasy once and for all. 

The boy takes a moment to clear his throat and swallow, not trusting his voice to not crack otherwise, “Uh.. Sorry. I’ll just be a minute.” 

It takes everything in him to slow his hand to a stop and pry it off of his shaft, deciding that perhaps, he shouldn’t entertain his filthy thoughts any longer. He quickly finishes showering with another unnecessary interruption from Mark, then drags himself back to his room and gets into his bed, forcing his eyes shut in an attempt to sleep. The longer he lies there, however, the more restless he grows. 

His dick feels sore to the touch and it’s driving him absolutely crazy. Every time he adjusts his shorts or moves his legs, his balls throb from how full they are. Knowing he has class to get to the following day, he tries to convince himself that maybe he needs a release to get to sleep. It’ll tire him out, and then finally, he’ll be able to get some rest…There’s at least a bit of logic to that theory, or that’s what he tells himself, anyway. 

Against his better judgment that pleads with him to just shut his eyes and count sheep, Jisung huffs out and slips his hands into his shorts to begin touching himself for the nth time tonight. This whole time, he had been unknowingly edging himself and now he’s so, so undeniably and incredibly desperate to cum that it literally hurts. 

His free hand brings his phone up and unlocks it, thumb swiping quickly in search of the discord app where your contact resides, the little green bubble next to it signifying that you’re still online. He hovers over the call button, taunting himself with the idea of making a call to you at this time. One little click, and he’d hear your voice again. Just one click and he-

sung ᨐฅ started a call. Today at 11:54 AM

Shit, shit, shit. 

He rushes to hang up, but you’ve answered no more than a ring later. 

“Hello?” 

Jisung holds his rather unsteady breath, staring wide-eyed at his phone. His dick pulses in his palm that now rests still. 

“Sung?” 

As gently as possible, he lays the phone down on his puffed up chest, letting out his breath slowly so that you don’t hear him.

“I’m gonna assume you called me by accident… ” you sigh out in disappointment, growing quiet in uncertainty. For a second, Jisung is convinced you’re gonna hang up, but when you stay on the line, he peers down at the screen curiously. 

Your icon lights up green and there’s some shuffling on your end, presumably from you getting comfortable in bed. 

He hears you yawn and smiles fondly. 

“I’m tired,” you mumble, “are you asleep? I was actually excited that you called. Maybe it’s my fucked up schedule… or, maybe I’m just dreading tomorrow, but I couldn’t sleep. I don’t know…” 

You’re speaking slower and quieter than usual, but you’re speaking, completely oblivious of the fact that he’s thinking of the dirtiest things that involve you, getting off while you think he’s sound asleep. 

“It’s always easier to sleep once we’ve talked so,” you pause, then sigh out jokingly, “I guess I'll just talk your unconscious ear off until I fall asleep…You don’t mind, right?”

God, no, he thinks.  

Jisung silently celebrates your decision with a pump of his hand, shuffling a bit to get comfortable as you go on about genshin and cats and other things he can barely pay mind to. It takes no more than a few strokes, shallow ones where he caresses the angry head of his dick to the velvety sound of your slurred and drowsy mumbling, for him to bring himself to come so fucking hard. 

His knees lock as his cock springs up in his clutched palm, spewing streams of white cum all over his stomach, chest, and thighs. The muscles on his abdomen ache from the way they contract, eyes and jaw shutting tightly as he challenges himself to remain quiet. The sheets aren’t spared from his thick load either, his nut dripping down the sides of his tummy to make dark, round puddles on his bed. His toes curl as he tries his hardest to not gasp out when the pleasure dissolves into sensitivity, digging his head back into the pillow with a hand clasped over his lips. 

A few minutes later, the blurriness in his vision is relieved, along with the ringing in his ears. You’ve stopped talking; instead, the receiver picks up your short and shallow breaths, as if you’ve fallen asleep with your mouth open. Cute.  

As he assesses the aftermath of his much needed release, he wishes he could snap a picture and send it to you, so that you’d wake up knowing this pathetic mess he made was all for you, because of you.

Alas, he can’t, and he hangs up once he’s completely sure you’re resting. With his eyelids feeling much heavier than before, he manages to toss his phone onto the nightstand before he, too, drifts off to sleep.

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

The following morning, Jisung wakes up in a bit of a panic. The first thing that throws him for a loop is the fact that his alarm didn’t go off at all. He quickly realizes he forgot to set it amidst the activities of the night before. The second thing that strikes him is his own hand that rests on his stomach, stuck in some kind of damp, sticky liquid. In his half-conscious state, he lifts his fingers and his puffy eyes widen as he identifies the clear fluid that decorates his tummy as his drying release from the night before. 

“Ugh…” He grimaces, sitting up in his bed. His phone, which is less than half full of battery since he forgot to plug it in, blinks back the numbers 8:38 at him. Jisung’s eyes widen as he remembers that his first class of the day, of the semester, is at 9. 

“Fuck!” In a flash, his blanket is flung off of him and his legs are swinging over the edge of the bed. He moves to grab some tissues from his nightstand, making aggressively desperate attempts at wiping away his cum. When the Kleenex sticks to him instead, he digs around his drawers for a pack of wet wipes, snatching a pair of pants off of the floor at the same time and practically yanking them up his legs. 

Despite almost falling over, he manages to get them on and clean off his torso… for the most part. A random sweatshirt is tugged on over his head and he runs his hand through his hair a few times to tidy it before passively telling his reflection, this will do. 

Moments later, he’s rushing downstairs and outside of the dormitory with his unzipped backpack hung over his shoulder. He rushes to unlock his bike, cursing as he fumbles with the keys. Once he’s on, he starts pedaling to the Science building on the other side of campus, heavily dreading checking the time in fear it’ll read some absurd number and he’ll wind up being much later than he anticipates.

The breath that’s been caught in his throat all morning is only released when he steps through the door of the lecture room to see that the professor hasn’t walked in yet, and that the clock reads that he’s 6 minutes early.

Finally slowing his rushed pace, Jisung does a quick once over the room to scan the faces of his fellow students before taking his seat somewhere near the back. Thanking the heavens that his notebook and textbook didn’t go tumbling out of his bag in the midst of his previous hurry, he tugs them out, flipping them open and writing the date on the first page. His laptop, which is where he had planned to take notes on, sits in his dorm room where he left it on his desk. Everyone else has theirs out, but he’ll just have to bring his own next time. 

There’s a distant click, and the door on the lowest level of the lecture hall opens. Through it walks a relatively tall and slender lady, heels echoing rhythmically as she strides over to set her dark bag down by the podium. Her hair is tied back high and tight, so much so, that all of her features look like they're blending into her hairline. She looks like she’s somewhere in her mid-to-late fifties, and from the instant she walked in, the entire class went silent.

She clearly has a presence that commands attention and undoubtedly, she fits the visual profile of a strict college professor quite well, especially when she picks up the chalk and scribbles her surname onto the green chalkboard beside the larger projector screen.

“I’m Professor Hwang. Welcome to AST1002, also known as Descriptive Astronomy. If you’re here, that means you took AST1001 with Mr. Kwon last year. He has since transferred to a different department.” 

There’s no audible response, although some disappointment does flash across the faces of the students in the room, all of whom did have (and seemingly would miss) Mr. Kwon. Professor Hwang doesn’t seem to notice the lack of responses, and continues speaking as she pulls some papers out.

“Firstly, I’ll take attendance. Then, I’ll pass the syllabus around. I would like for you to note,” she pauses to place a pair of red glasses high on the bridge of her nose, “that attendance is mandatory for my class, and worth 20% of your grade. I’ll go over pop quizzes and weekly quizzes, as well as the initial class project, when each of you have a copy of the syllabus. That being said, I look forward to seeing you all here every class. Please call out when you hear your name.” 

As she starts to take attendance, Jisung takes the time to sigh into his hands, both exhausted and dreading the fact that he’d have to spend three days out of the week rotting in a lecture hall to attend a class he expected to be fun, or at the very least a break from his much more difficult core classes. By the looks of it, that’s no longer the plan. 

It’s easy to zone out quickly while his mind is still foggy, no doubt from the lack of sleep and the subsequent abrupt awakening that followed. He had just begun an attempt to read the syllabus when something made his ears perk. 

Immediately, his head snaps up in pursuit of a soft and airy voice that just responded to Professor Hwang. It’s so quick and in passing that he almost thinks he might have imagined it in his delirious state, but the way the hair on his limbs stands on end is unmistakable. His eyes dart around the room, hitting his classmate’s heads like targets, but there’s absolutely no way to identify the individual who just spoke. 

Could it be… No. No way. 

Jisung is no stranger to daydreaming about you, but he isn’t completely delusional. He knows the chances of being not only in the same city, but the same university and class as you are absolutely slim to none, so he stops that train of thought dead in its tracks. 

It does segway him into thinking of you, though. You’re obviously not here, so he wonders instead what class you are in at the moment. He tries to picture what you’re wearing on your first day of class, trusting you look more put together than him in his old hoodie that is slightly sticking to the dry cum on his stomach. Do you like your classmates? Your professor? He sincerely hopes you have a more tolerable one than he does. 

“Park Jisung?” 

With a slight cough, he spits out a weak “h-here.” and instantly grimaces, raising his shoulders autonomously as if he would get scolded for stammering so pathetically. The professor, to his relief, doesn’t even glance up from the roster. Then, he feels quite silly for even thinking he would get reproached for that to begin with. In his defense, she’s a rather intimidating woman, and his inner monologue is so loud and flooded with thoughts of you that he fears she may have heard it. 

She finishes calling for attendance, resorting to striding up and down the aisles as she begins to dissect the syllabus. In an effort to pretend he’s paying attention, Jisung glances down at the size twelve font on the page, skimming over the words without really taking anything in. During one of the professor’s paces, a pen she had resting on her ear slips and falls towards the ground with a slight clatter, and it seems a student picked it up for her, because there’s a slight mumbling, followed by a sharp “thank you,” and a very, very recognizable,

“You’re welcome, Professor.” 

His eyes widen at once. Alright, call him crazy, but now he thinks that it really might have been your voice. The familiar timbre, warm and delicate; a sound he’s heard for months on end and knows embarrassingly well… The thought of being in the same room as you out of sheer luck and coincidence makes his abdomen twist and his palms sweat so bad, he has to wipe them on his pants.

He hates that he can’t fully tell, in fact, he’s almost ashamed that he can’t; before today, Jisung would have sworn up and down that he knew your voice better than even his own, but you sound so far and so quiet that he can’t completely bet all of his marbles. Then, he quickly realizes calling it ‘your voice’ definitely makes him sound delusional, even in the safety of his own forgiving conscience. He decides to call it ‘the voice’ for now, at least until he’s a hundred-percent sure. 

An irritatingly long hour and half later, the only sound that continues to ring around the lecture hall is Professor Hwang’s monotone one, reciting each and every itemized assignment and rule on the never-ending syllabus. There’s less than fifteen minutes until class is over, and she shows no signs of stopping her dissertation. 

“As for the class project: In pairs of two, you will research a constellation extensively to create a presentation on its formation, who cataloged it, and the Greek myth that may accompany it. Please note that this is the first and last time we will talk about constellations in this class, since they are not cosmic phenomenons but instead, a mere roadmap to the objects and themes we will be focusing on. Consider this strictly as an opportunity to familiarize yourselves with another classmate and show me your interest and effort in the subject. That concludes our syllabus,” Thank God, Jisung thinks. 

 “Any questions?” She glances around at a hand that floats in the air, near the front of the room, “yes?” 

“Will we be able to select our partners?” 

“No. Partners will be assigned at the end of the week. Yes?” She calls on another hand. 

“As for the constellations,” Wait, that’s it! That’s the voice—that’s your voice, he’s completely sure of it!  “Will you assign those as well?” 

Jisung elongates his neck to try and peek over the heads in his way. It is you, he’s positive now, but you’re turned away from him, and he can’t fully make out which ‘back of the head’ is your ‘back of the head.’ The echo in the hall makes it nearly impossible to pinpoint who just spoke which means he can’t pinpoint you. For some reason, he finds himself slightly panicking, desperate to finally see you in person.

He follows Professor Hwang's line of sight as she answers that she’ll assign the constellations on Friday too, and finally finds you, seated between a few other students. A few more questions are thrown around, but his eyes never leave you, anticipating the moment he catches a glimpse of your face. 

Naturally, his first instinct is to approach you as soon as class is out, but when he sees you spin around to pick up your bag that hangs off your chair, he finds himself glued to his own flimsy seat. Feet stuck to the ground, legs not budging, and air hitched in his throat at the sight of you. 

You’re so, so much prettier than he could have imagined with whatever unoriginal features he tried to piece together in his lacking mind, and that fact makes him both exhilarated and completely nauseous. 

He’s barely been looking at you for a few seconds when he feels his insatiable cock growing fast in the confines of his pants, with no regard for its owner and the fact that he has to stand up within the next minute or so to exit the hall. Jisung curses under his breath, awkwardly rising to his feet when most of his classmates leave, his bag clutched tightly in front of his groin. He prays you don’t glance over, not even because he has a semi-hard on he’s failing to hide with dissimulation, but because he’s staring at you like some sort of freak and can’t seem to look away. 

There’s nothing he wants more than to come up to you and say hi and confess he’s the person you’ve been gaming with for months. He’s pictured it countless times before, you’d think he’d have it down by now, but your beauty is intimidating, and he simply cannot and will not make a fool of himself in front of you by greeting you with a raging boner. 

You walk out of the classroom and Jisung’s heart settles in his chest as he sits with his decision to stay anonymous for now. 

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

“She was obnoxious, you have no idea!” 

“My teacher wasn’t much different,” he admits, a small, knowing smile toying at his lips, “she seemed like a real bitch,” 

It’s later that same evening, and talking to you doesn’t really feel the same anymore. It’s much harder, because now, Jisung can vividly picture you, sitting in your chair with your hands on your keyboard and mouse. Every word you say, his imagination is right thereafter, picturing your pretty face clear as day in the forefront of his mind. 

The moment he got home, he fucked his fist until he came in his hand. It took about five minutes, and then he pumped another one out in the shower, (a much needed shower, at that) where he finally washed away the remains of the night before. 

After he had lunch with Mark and the other boys from his floor, they had invited him to play basketball. At the same time, however, he received a direct message from you, explaining you didn’t have any other classes for the day and asking if he could get on earlier. 

It’s a little ridiculous, but now that he’s seen you, now that he knows you’re so much closer than he initially thought, he can’t wait to talk to you again. And so he quickly came up with an empty excuse related to his studies, took the berating from his friends like a champ, and rushed upstairs to log into his PC and open up your chat. 

“Not only do we already have a project, but we don’t even get to pick our partners.” 

I know! He thinks. 

“Like,” you start, and he pictures the way your cheeks fill up with air as you let out a huff, “what if I get stuck with some weirdo?” 

Instantly, Jisung stops palming himself, letting his hand climb back up to the mouse slowly.

He probably shouldn’t let that innocent statement affect him as much as it does, but he can’t help it. He has the advantage, right? Or, at least it seems that way. 

When everything is laid out, he has the upperhand of knowing who you are—you haven’t seen him, yet… but what if you did see him, and he wasn’t at all what you were expecting? Or even worse, what if you got paired together for the project and you thought he was weird or the two of you didn’t get along? That option is far less likely, since there are well over fifty students in AST1002. 

“I don’t know,” you start, “I’m considering switching out of the class-” 

“No!” Wow. Good going, Jisung.

He catches his slip-up and quickly blurts out, “I-I mean, it might not be that bad! You should… at least give it a shot before you try to switch out, right?” 

“I guess you’re right… The add and drop period at my school is until next Friday, so I'll try it out until then.” 

Great! Perfect! Good save. The only problem now is: Jisung has a little over a week and a half to somehow convince you to stay in his class and at the same time, not completely butcher his introduction to you. Approaching you now seems practically impossible, but he needs you to stay in the class, even if it means he has to come up to you first. He can’t be bothered to care that his insistence is for his own selfish intentions, if it means getting to see you three times a week. 

“But anyway,” he clears his throat, changing the topic as quickly as possible, “how did your other class go?” 

“Much better than the first, the teacher let us out early once he covered the books we’d be analyzing this semester and attendance isn’t mandatory since most of the material is online or in the library. I think I’ll swing by there one of these days to see if I can get ahead on some of the assignments.” 

“Oh, so you’re a nerd?” You gasp and smack his character in-game a few times. He laughs, calling out, “okay, okay, truce! You’re not a nerd then, just an overachiever.”

���How so?” 

“We’re barely a day into the semester and you’re already trying your homework that I’m sure isn’t due for at least a few weeks,” 

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s right. With a bit of playful flirtation twisted into your tone, you hum out, “What can I say? I like to please.” 

One of his eyebrows perks up, “is that right?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He can hear your smirk through the screen, and now, he can vividly picture it, too. 

Jisung scoffs, backing away from your character so that he’s out of your sight. He cowers into a corner in game;  this way, you don’t notice how he stops moving when his left hand leaves the w,a,s,d keys to cup and rub his needy bulge. 

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

Wednesday’s class is somehow packed and entirely uneventful at the same time. The first of Professor Hwang’s dragging lectures is so loaded that Jisung actually thanks the heavens that he remembered to bring his laptop. Otherwise, his notebook would have been about halfway full already, and his hand? It would have fallen off. 

On another relevant note, he’s struggling to stay focused because today, he is sitting much closer to you. Intentionally, of course. There’s still a few rows between him and you, but in this new seat, he can glance at you as often as he’d like without straining his eyes or stretching out his neck to make his gawking painfully obvious. He can clearly make out your smooth skin, along with other details he wasn’t able to notice before like your beauty marks and your dainty earrings. You’re paying unfaltering attention to the class for the first hour, but after the sixty-minute mark, you appear to have become bored. He catches the way your pencil starts doodling along the corners of your notebook and it takes everything in him not to snort when you scribble down a wonky looking cat. 

He’s so distracted by you, that every couple of slides, he glances back to the projector to see that the class is now on an entirely different topic than the one he last managed to jot down. He doesn’t mind, though. You’re a much more enthralling sight than quasars and supernovas. 

Halfway through the lesson, you decide to peel off your little black cardigan and hang it on the back of your chair, exposing your arms and neck and shoulders to him. Your hair is tied up neatly right after, giving him all the more to gawk at and envision. Jisung has to remind himself that he’s in a classroom just so that he doesn’t start fantasizing about how it would feel to grip your hair up in a similar fashion and fill your throat up with his dick.

With great difficulty, he directs his focus to the board instead, typing quickly into his laptop all the notes he manages to catch before the slide changes again and Professor Hwang’s narrow eyes can scan the room to see who’s paying attention. 

When the class is over, you start talking with the girl next to you, aimlessly reaching back for your bag. The gesture makes your cardigan fall, and Jisung has to fully bite his tongue to keep himself from calling out your name and giving himself away. He waits to see if you’ll notice, or if someone nearby will alert you, but neither one happens. Instead, you stand up, still engrossed in your conversation, and make your way towards the door. Instantly, he jogs down the aisle and between the seats to grab it and wordlessly hand it to you, but by the time he makes a move to head in your direction, you’ve already left. 

He feels disappointed at first, but the feeling quickly shifts into relief. Wordlessly hand it to you? Does he want your first impression of him to be awkward and borderline rude? No and definitely no. This problem has a simple solution—it’s a blessing in disguise; he’ll take your cardigan home and bring it to you on Friday and maybe, if his courage allows, he can introduce himself then. 

“Hey! I noticed you left your sweater here last class. I brought it for you. Oh, and by the way, it’s me! I’m @sung.ie. How did I know it was you? I can recognize your voice across a huge lecture hall.”

Yeah… he’ll think more on that later. 

With your cardigan clutched in his fist, Jisung sighs, making his way outside and towards his bicycle. He tucks the clothing item into his backpack and pedals back home, wondering how he’s going to manage to give it back to you since you always get to and leave class before him.  

He knows some of his friends and dorm-mates have their own class today, they had exchanged schedules during lunch a few days ago, which leaves him to hope and pray you’ve decided to skip your class and get online. As he parks his bicycle downstairs and locks it, he slips his phone from his pocket and opens discord, but your bubble remains gray and cold. You’re offline. 

Maybe you haven’t gotten home yet. He checks his phone again when he gets upstairs, and again when he goes inside his dorm, tossing his bag aside and crashing on his bed. He checks after losing a round of candy crush, and again after replying to a text from his mom. 

By the looks of it, you were in class, or at the very least, not available for the moment. Jisung sighs, pretending he’s not actually as disappointed as he feels. It seems a bit dramatic to feel the need to kill time until he gets to talk to you again so he resorts to doing physics homework—a short baseline his teacher assigned that wouldn’t be graded—and tricking his brain into thinking the former is not what he’s actually doing. 

When he pulls his bag off his desk chair to grab his laptop, your cardigan comes into view, and he pauses to look at it. He sits like this for a moment, wondering if he should fold it nicely on his dresser so he can remember to take it to you, but his hands act before his mind can catch up, reaching in and basically shoving the material toward his face. 

With his nose buried in your scent, Jisung inhales deeply, sinking into his chair as his legs grow weaker. The trace of your floral softener is the first aroma he gets, and then, the smell of your perfume peeks through, soft and sweet and very fitting for you. Once more, his treacherous hands are acting for themselves and he’s suddenly undoing his belt single-handedly. 

Once his dick, growing by the minute, is out and clutched in his palm, he finally retracts your sweater. With little hesitation, he wraps it around his erection and pumps once, throwing his head back in immediate relief.

It’s a fucking miracle that his room is the last one at the end of the hall, and that his next door neighbors, Renjun and Jaemin, are both in their afternoon lectures, because nothing would have been able to muffle the wanton moan that rips from his chest as he strokes himself with your scent. His hips are bucking up into the air, and in only a few minutes, he’s broken a slight sweat. His balls tighten from sheer sensitivity at the act of fucking something directly related to you. 

A cry of your name, followed by a few more pumps and he’s coming inside your mangled cardigan, his white release breaching the thin material. It seeps through it like light through a veil, gathering thickly on top before spreading into a dark, wet patch. There’s a shudder that passes through his bones as he sits back, burying his cock into the fabric and keeping it there until he’s given up every last drop. 

The only thing that snaps him from his post-nut bliss, is the distinct discord ring-tone that blasts through his headset. His computer monitor turns on as your icon appears and simultaneously, his heart and dick both twitch. 

“Hello?” With his output device swung over his head, he presses the green ‘answer’ button and speaks into the mic, hiding his slight shortness of breath with a yawn. 

“I’m so glad you answered,” you beam, and he does too, “I was worried I had called while you were in class or something,” 

As he speaks, he wipes the remnants of his cum off with your cardigan and puts it aside on his desk, tucking his softening (and still very sensitive) dick away into his boxers, “No, you’re good. I had a class earlier today but now I’m free.” 

“What a relief,” you sigh, “Would you want to have a little homework ‘sesh’ with me? I just found out the library doesn’t have any available labs. I doubt I’ll be able to concentrate much with you but at least I'll be in good company.”

“Like an e-date?” 

“We can call it that,” you grin, then he pictures your expression becoming a gloom one to match your slightly sadder tone as you admit, “Sometimes I wish we went to the same school so we could meet up and study at a coffee shop.” 

He snorts, unable to help but crack a joke, “Like a real date?” 

Your laugh makes his heart swell slightly. When you reply, “Maybe,” it starts flipping wildly in his chest. 

God, you can’t even begin to imagine how badly he wants that. 

“That would be nice,” he agrees humbly, a blush creeping on his cheeks. “What class are you gonna study for?” 

There’s a pause before you speak again where you hum in thought, flipping through a few pages and shuffling through your bag. Jisung joins you, grabbing his laptop and school supplies, “I have a project for my astronomy class. It’s related to constellations and I wanna start researching them so that I can make an outline for the assignment,” 

He looks through his math notes with his brows furrowed down, “I thought she was gonna assign them on Friday?” 

Your icon flickers as you reply, “She is, but I want to—wait. How did you know that?” At your words and the realization of his untimely slip up, Jisung’s body goes rigid. He can only imagine the confusion on your features, and he’s quite relieved you can’t see the look on his. If his eyes were to open any wider, he’s sure they might just slip out of his head. 

“Oh, um,” he clears his throat mechanically, then gulps in an effort to lubricate it and keep his voice steady, assertive, certain. “You mentioned it on Monday, remember?” 

“Did I?” You didn’t, but he really hopes you think you did. “Probably,” At that, he lets out the air he’s holding, shaking his head slightly at himself for being so careless. 

“But um, yeah,” he starts before you can give it any further thought, “If she’s assigning them Friday why are you working on it today?” 

“Cause she’s also assigning partners on Friday, and I don’t really know anyone besides the girl who sits next to me and I doubt I’ll get paired with her. I want to make sure my grade is secured, you know? I’ve never liked group projects. I feel like all the work gets dumped on me.” 

He’s still not entirely sure what you mean to do, or how you intend to create a blueprint of sorts without knowing what it was for, and so he stops flicking through his page of notes to look up at his monitor and ask, “But if you don’t know which constellation you’re gonna work on, how are you gonna make an outline?” 

You ponder his question for a moment, then mumble out, “She didn’t mention a rubric or anything, so I figured that as long as I plan out the different sections and give the project a structure, half of the work is cut out, right? I can just assign parts at that point.” 

“You’re that kinda person in a group project? I’m sorry to whoever gets partnered with you,” He’s not sorry, not at all. He’s rather envious, actually, despite his attempts to sound indifferent or amusing. Being granted time to spend with you at your place or his, or at the library or the local campus cafe, would be a no less than perfect ice breaker. Jisung would make sure you never felt like all the research and assembling depended solely on you—in fact, he could see himself now, spending countless hours perfecting the details of his assigned part and inquiring about other suggestions to improve the project, just to impress you or at the very least, satisfy you. The reality that someone else would get to do all of that in his place is disheartening. 

You guys had rarely ever talked about school before now, since neither of you actually were enrolled in any classes when you started chatting, but now that it’s relevant, he feels like he understands a whole different side of you. You’re organized, and obviously very studious. Hell, you’ve been itching to get started on assignments that haven’t even been assigned yet. You’re responsible, dependable, funny, beautiful, and every time he thinks of you lately, he realizes that his innocent crush is slowly becoming an insatiable one.   

“Hey! I’d be very nice if it was you, you know. Show you some favoritism,” the corners of his lips twitch upwards—“But I’m also glad it’s not you,”—and fall down again. 

“What? Why?” He tries to not sound too offended. 

“I’d end up talking your ear off, Sung.” 

“I’m already used to that, don’t mind it. Kinda like it, actually.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” He nods curtly, even though there’s a monitor and an entire school campus between you and him and he knows you have no way of seeing his gesture. There's a moment of silence that you spend taking a brief breath as a glow tinges your cheeks. 

With a stifled laugh, you open your mouth again, “I think it’s just because you like me that you tolerate my rambling,” 

“No.” He’s quick to clarify, “I really do like it.” He loves it. 

“And me?” your voice is much quieter, almost giving the impression that you’re shy in asking something so decisive and direct. Jisung, emboldened by your vulnerability, and the distance the screen puts between you two, answers with certainty. 

“I like you, too.” 

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

 “The constellation project, as I mentioned during your first class, is a tool for you to acquaint yourself with your classmates. It will be due in 3 weeks, and you can check the syllabus for specifications regarding that. After today, there will be no changing partners or constellations so should you need any changes to be made, you have until class is dismissed. Listen closely as I read out the pairs for the project. I will not repeat myself.” 

The sharp tone he’s growing more and more distaste for by the day drowns out as Jisung glances over at you. Today, you’re sporting a bone-colored long sleeve and corduroy pants with half of your hair held back in a shiny clip. You look ravishing. Truthfully, he can’t really tell if you’re wearing makeup or not—although he concludes it doesn’t matter. Your features are soft and pretty nonetheless, and your cheeks have turned rosy from the dropping autumn temperatures. 

“Yu Karina will be partnered with Lee Heesung. Your constellation is Cassiopeia.”

When you walked into the lecture hall this morning, there was a hot coffee cup with the campus cafe’s logo on it clutched in your hands, which you sipped on while shivering. Taking your usual seat, you greeted the girl next to you, who Jisung now knew was called Yu Karina. 

The dark haired girl perked up when Professor Hwang called her name and waved down the aisle at who he can only assume is Lee Heesung, her partner, then whispered something to you. You looked over at the boy and back at Karina, nodding and giggling with her. 

“Jennifer Huh, partnered with Ning Yizhuo,” Professor Hwang referenced her other list, “Constellation: Cancer.” 

The two girls greet each other with a look and a smile, but Jisung pays little mind. He’s listening intently—for the first time—in anticipation of hearing one of your names be called. He doesn’t exactly know your full name, only a nickname he refers to you as, the one attached to your discord handle. Otherwise, pinpointing you that first day of class would’ve been much easier. 

“Park Jay and Lee Sohee, your constellation is Orion.” 

Sitting there, he realizes that in all the months you’ve talked, he’s never once asked for your full first name. Is that strange? What kind of friend is he if he doesn’t even know your name? In all fairness, you never asked for his, either, so he supposes it’s okay. Would have been useful to know, though, at times like this. 

After his small confession of ‘like’ on Wednesday, the two of you went on studying your respective subjects, with the occasional (and inevitable) distraction here and there. Admittedly, he thought his comment would be forgotten rather quickly. It wasn’t like he outwardly poured his heart out to you, so he figured you’d move on and just crack a joke or two about it later. There was a change, though; a strikingly obvious one to Jisung, who hangs on your every word like it’s a tether that keeps him from floating. And, even if he didn’t pay such close attention to you, there’s no way he could have missed the new flirtatious ambiance that flourished afterwards. Flirting with you is not uncommon by any means—the two of you playfully tease each other with frequency, but it’s nothing he’d allow himself to look into too much, for his own sake. 

That changed in the hours following his comments. All of Wednesday evening, the two of you went back and forth, feeding each other compliments in the form of banter. Again, he thought it would end there, but on Thursday afternoon when you logged on, he asked how your progress was going with the outline, to which you texted back, “I was thinking of you all day. Didn’t get around to doing much else.” 

It wasn’t the only message from you that nurtured his feelings, either. There were enough substantially flirty messages from your conversation that night, that he was able to scroll through them and reread them a few times before bed. 

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 6:49PM

hi did you smile when you saw my name pop up on your phone just now

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 8:22 PM

you’re so cute

i can barely think 

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 9:14 PM

i feel like my day doesn’t make sense if we don’t talk 

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 10:58 PM

i should get to sleep 

but i don’t wanna stop texting you

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 12:02 AM

goodnight, sung <3 miss you til’ you’re back

Now, as he eyes you with a boyish, lovesick gaze, watching you doodle your stupid little drawings as you await your assignment, he finds himself praying for the courage to come up to you after class.

Professor Hwang calls your name next, something he only realizes at the fitting similarity of your nickname and the way your pen meets the table in alert to being called on, head lifting up and eyes blinking expectantly. 

“Your partner will be,” 

Jisung holds his breath, chanting in his head ‘please, oh, please let it be me,’

 “Lee Chan.” 

Wishful thinking never got anyone anywhere, then. He ignores the way his heart sinks into the pits of his stomach, unable to help but observe your curious gaze as it looks around the filled seats. For a fleeting moment, you meet his eyes, but he doesn’t react or claim to be Lee Chan who you so evidently are in search of, and so you pass him and keep studying the aisles. After a few seconds, you find no one gazing back, even after you slightly stand to peer above the nearby heads that obscure your view. 

“Your constellation is-” 

With a cautious raise of your hand, you interrupt Professor Hwang gently, “Excuse me, Professor, but I don’t think my partner is here.” 

For a moment, her lazer-like gaze looks like it could light you on fire, a consequence of daring to interrupt her, but it softens only slightly as she realizes the truth in your statement, scanning the room herself and calling out for the missing boy. Upon receiving no call back, she thinks for a moment, then looks back down at her clipboard and crosses something out. 

“I did mention attendance was mandatory, didn’t I?” This she mutters to herself, “No matter. Instead, you’ll work with,” she gives the paper another once over, then clicks her pen and speaks, “Park Jisung.” 

In an awkward burst of both excitement and confusion, Jisung darts out of his chair. His knee hits his desk with a clang, and his laptop would have gone flying if it wasn’t for his quick hands that catch it before it can fall. The loud ruckus turns several heads in his direction, including Professor Hwang’s and more importantly, yours. 

Feeling an awful lot like a deer caught in headlights, Jisung blinks as the two of you make eye-contact, then he takes his seat again, very quickly by the way. “Uh, that’s me,” he announces, heat spreading across his face and eyes darting around, “Sorry.” 

Does he feel more sorry to his teacher and classmates for disrupting the classroom, or to himself and you for the absolute fool he has just made of himself? As much as he’d like to tear his gaze away from yours and cast it to the ground in embarrassment, it remains stuck on you, awaiting your impending reaction. 

You’re rather unsure how to feel, though given, a little surprised at the commotion. You offer him a small smile through pursed lips, and Jisung nods, willing with all his might for a hole to open in the ground beneath him and swallow him.  

“Thank you, Mr. Park, for your remarkably clear confirmation. Your constellation is Gemini.” 

You turn in your chair to face the front again, scribbling down his name in the corner of your notebook, as well as the constellation you’d been assigned.

“He’s cute,” Karina comments to you as you look over at her, and you finally let out a small laugh you had been holding in. 

“He is. Clumsy,” you snort, “but cute.” 

“We both got cute partners. We should meet up at the library later and all get started on the project together,” 

You nod enthusiastically, going back to your outline that sits at the ready on your laptop screen and making quick work of labeling the different sections evenly. If it wasn’t so obvious for you to spin around and steal a glance, you might have done so again. You’re certainly tempted to, thinking back to seconds ago and realizing you hadn’t really noticed him the last two classes. 

Jisung watches your exchange with his dignity at serious risk. He’s entirely unable to hear or make out what you’re saying to each other, and it makes his pulse pick up and his mind race. He considers many things as he watches the two of you talk: firstly, asking to change his partner, but then realizing that would be an awful idea. Once you knew who he was, how would you ever forgive him for immediately ditching you? Absolutely not. Cowering had gotten him nowhere so far. 

Then, he considers switching out of the class himself, and disappearing, never to reveal himself to you—but that wasn’t the right thing to do either. Incapable of checking out of your life so quickly and denying himself the treat that is seeing you three times a week (and now, possibly more), he cans that idea, too. 

As Professor Hwang finishes reading off the list of names, he begins planning what he’ll actually say to you, as that conversation is just minutes away. There’s less than a half-hour left of class, which means he has to think hard and fast. 

As he busies himself with the grueling task of picking an appropriate and redeeming introduction, he doesn’t hear the new instructions from Professor Hwang, which are to find your partner and begin brainstorming, as well as exchanging schedules to set aside time outside of class to work on the presentation. A shadow falls over his desk and consumes his work space in darkness. When his curiously squinted eyes trail up to find the source, only to land on you, hovering above him with your things clutched in your arms, he grips his seat to keep from jumping out of it for the second time today. 

“Is this seat taken?” 

So much for having time to figure out how to approach you. His heart does a leap of surprise in his chest in place of his physical body, and he resists the urge to clutch it.

“No.” He replies shortly. 

With your unfaltering, kind smile still present on your face, you laugh softly and place your things down, introducing yourself. 

“You’re Ji-sun, right?” 

“—Sung.” he politely corrects you. When you don’t immediately react, he wonders if you had even heard him. He doesn’t put it past himself to have imagined that he replied to you, between his sweating palms and nervous jittering, and your pretty self sitting just a foot away, he’s barely keeping it together.  After a moment that feels infinitely longer than it actually is, you raise your eyebrows slightly, round lips parted to ask your question with a palpable hesitance. 

“W-what?” 

“Jisung,” he quickly replies, pronouncing the ‘g’ clearly and masking the way his eyes widen with a heavy blink that honestly, may not serve as any better of a guise. He pleads with himself to get his shit together but luckily, you don’t seem to notice. 

“Oh, sorry… Sorry, It’s just—nevermind. Hi, Jisung.” 

“Hi, Y/N.” He savors the way your name feels on his tongue but keeps his enjoyment brief. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” you start, lifting the screen of your laptop to reveal the very same outline you had started working on during your last call with him, “but I already made an outline. If you wanna scrap it and start all over, we can—” 

“No, It’s fine, we can use this,” when you give him an unsure look, he smiles reassuringly, “It looks brilliant.” 

“Thank you.” There’s a pause that is filled only by you clearing your throat, “Ok, I have a literature class right after this one on Mondays and Wednesdays. The rest of my classes are online, so I’m free at any time, really. I usually like to study at the computer labs in the library, it’s nice and private there and I find it much easier to focus. But if you don’t want to go there, we could always go to the cafe or the square for some fresh air. Oh, and either one of our dorm rooms works fine if you’re okay-” 

To experience your presence on a phone call is one thing, but to experience it in real life, with your clear voice so arresting and your silky, smooth lips within reach, is absolutely mesmerizing. He’s fighting the urge to glance down at your mouth, but it’s becoming increasingly harder to sustain eye contact, as lovely as he decides your eyes are. Another thing that is becoming exponentially harder, and more sensitive all the same, is his cock, springing to life with an eagerness to greet you. 

There’s a bit of panic that flashes across his features as he senses the strain it’s causing in his pants, and only when you look down at your outline does he dare to sneak a glance down at his own groin where as expected, a noticeable imprint was beginning to develop. In a desperate gesture, he slides his notebook over his lap, suppressing a hiss, and leans forward to pretend to use his own laptop. 

“Any of those work for me,” 

“Okay, great,” You notice the time and turn back to him. “You can just message me when you’re free.”

“Sure.” 

“And here’s my number—” you reach over, sliding the protective notebook from his lap and placing it on your desk, scribbling your number in the corner. Jisung immediately readjusts his hoodie, throwing the hem of it over his boner. Professor Hwang dismisses the class as you pass it back. 

“Call me whenever you’re free.” With a spin of your heel, you wave goodbye to him and rejoin Karina, who waits for you  at the door with her partner.

Jisung lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and looks down at the number you wrote. Beside the digits, written in very neat handwriting, might he add, sat perched on a wobbly branch a little black cat that he recognized from his hours of staring as one of your doodles. 

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

The time is 4:33PM, and Jisung has drafted over a dozen messages on the iMessage app addressed to your number. None of them have exactly made it to you yet, courtesy of his thumb that keeps pressing backspace and wiping out any trace of a remotely embarrassing text. It’s the next day and no introduction or invitation to meet up seems like it’s good enough to send, though he knows that inevitably, he has to text you first. You left your number behind with the doodle that he has since stuck to the corner of his PC monitor, but you never took down his; so now, the ball is in Jisung’s court, and he knows that if he waits too long, you’d think he was avoiding you or the project altogether. 

Realistically, he knows a simple “Hi, it’s Jisung,” will suffice, but he can’t bring himself to send you such an unoriginal and boring message. After pondering for a moment, he then decides the best solution would be to do some research, and then call you with his findings—this way, his interest in the project would be clear, and he knows how important that is to you. 

At once, he peels your cum-stained cardigan off of his lap, though not before stealing a glance at the day’s new additions, and places it aside. He tucks his spent dick into his short and turns on his monitor, typing the name of the constellation into Google and investigating nearly every website he could find with any useful information. 

In the nicest handwriting he can manage, Jisung bullets a list of all the facts and history he could find on ‘Gemini’ within the hour, including the stars that make up the constellation, the myth behind it, and other relevant statistics. It isn’t until he has filled up an entire page front and back—partially—that he picks up his phone again and makes another attempt at contacting you. 

Feeling slightly more confident, he types up his message. 

To: 555-111-0205

hi, it’s jisung from astronomy. i did some research and i wanted to show you what i found. let me

know if you’re free to exchange notes. Sent at 5:52 PM.

Jisung rereads over his message for any flaws, though there’s nothing he can do about it now that it’s sent, anyway. After he deems it an okay first message, he takes a breath and moves to put his phone down, but it buzzes in his hand instead. 

Incoming call at 5:54 PM From: 555-111-0205

“Hi-”

“Hi! Sorry to just call unannounced but I’m walking to the library with all my stuff and I can’t really text. I was able to book us a computer lab for the next two hours so If you want, we—can you hear me?” 

He sits up straighter, “Yeah! Yes, I can hear you,” 

“Oh, good, so—wait, hello?” Your voice shifts in volume and proximity, as if you pulled your phone from your ear to check the call screen, then brought it back, “Oh, sorry. I-I thought I had accidentally called someone else… nevermind.” Instantly, Jisung realizes instantly that you must have recognized his voice. It makes sense, seeing as you’re used to hearing it specifically on calls. You seem to show no further suspicion as you continue speaking, though, but perhaps, he should keep talking on the phone with you to a minimum. 

“Do you think you can make it? Otherwise I can go work on my own. I saw your text and instantly booked the room. Sorry for not checking in with you first,” 

“I’ll meet you there,” He replies quickly, grimacing at the instinctual effort it takes to try and make his voice deeper. 

“Okay! Great. I’ll see you there, then.” You hang up, and then your text message comes through with the lab room information just minutes later. 

Jisung all but lunges out of his chair and rushes to face himself in the mirror, taking in his reflection. Besides his hair that looks slightly disheveled, he looks alright. He doesn’t want to make you wait long for him, so he quickly grabs his laptop and his notes, shoves them all into his bag, and flies out of his dorm room with the laces of his sneakers left untied.  

In the brightly, yellow-lit hallway, Mark and Chenle are popping out of their respective rooms, a basketball clutched under the younger boy’s arm.

“We were just about to come grab you,” Chenle starts, “Let’s play some ball. Jeno’s meeting us at the court,”

“Can’t,” Jisung shakes his head, “I’m going to the library,” he tries to not get offended at the way the two boys snort loudly in disbelief, looking at each other as if they’ve both had the same thought. 

“Yeah, right.” Chenle scoffs. 

With a blink, Jisung replies meekly, “I’m serious.” 

“Since when do you go to the library?” Mark brows pinch and he adds, “It’s the start of term. You’re already studying?”

“Since now, I guess. I have a project for a class so I’m gonna go meet up with my partner at the library, but I’ll catch you guys later.” 

“Alright, alright. Oh—remember there’s a party next week at Jaehyun’s frat for syllabus week.” 

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” His answer doesn’t seem to fully convince Mark, Chenle, or even himself, but they seem satisfied enough, because they let Jisung go without any more pestering. He flies down the flight of stairs and out the front door of the dormitory. 

The cold September air is biting at this time in the evening, feeling particularly cool on the apples of his cheek, which glow from the light layer of sweat that develops during his jog over to the library. It’s a considerable distance away, which is part of the reason why he, in his two years of being a student at the university, has never seriously stepped foot inside of it. Studying in his room is much more convenient, but you seem to like the library, so the twenty-minute-walk there, or in this case, fifteen-minute-jog, will simply have to be adopted as a new way to get in some brief exercise a few times a week. 

More than likely, you have already arrived, and Jisung doesn’t want to make you wait too long for him, especially since there’s a two-hour time limit on the room and he intends to spend as much time with you there as he can. He wipes his cheeks with his gray sleeves and climbs up the stairs of the building quickly, swiping his student card at the door and stepping inside. 

The ceiling is massively tall, seemingly taller than when he once saw it during freshman orientation, and the endless rows of shelves are filled with books, ranging from thin, colorful novels to thick, leather-bound classics. It’s quieter than he expects it to be, even for a library, and he clearly can hear the pitter patter of his feet as he follows the sign labeled ‘Study Rooms and Computer Labs.’ 

The guy at the reception desk in this section seems to be a volunteer, his student ID and name tag shining on his shirt. He glances up from his book when Jisung approaches, nodding once. There’s an awkward silence that feels rather loud as Jisung fumbles with his phone, flipping it between his clammy hands as he searches for your message. 

“Computer Lab 4C?” 

Wordlessly, the boy nods again, then slides over a clip-board with a sign-in sheet clamped to it. 

It’s surprising to see how many lab spots are filled up so early into the term, names scribbled along the lines and time-slots. Your name stands out, partly because of your familiar handwriting, but particularly because of the empty line beside it, where he signs in before handing the clip-board back. 

“Down the hall, second door on your right.” 

It’s Jisung’s turn to bob his head once and the boy looks back down at his book. He makes his way down the hall until he reaches the correctly labeled door. His hand reaches for the handle, but he withdraws it. Should he knock? Or maybe send you a text? Or both? 

To: 555-111-0205

hey again. i’m outside :) Sent at 6:18 PM.

The door creaks open from the taps of his knuckles bumping against it, and he peeks his head in timidly, finding you sitting in one of the desk chairs, nearly hidden behind your laptop and a stack of books. You look up over the screen, eyes squinting in a smile. 

“Oh, I had left the door open for you,” you stand up, holding out a cup for him, “and I got you coffee… didn’t know how you liked it so I just got you the same thing I order,” 

There’s a fluttering in his stomach as he sets his bag down. There’s no chance he can manage to meet your eyes after such a gesture so he casts them to the ground instead, graciously reaching out to receive with both hands the drink you offer him, “You didn’t have to,” he mumbles, “but thank you. I’m sure your order is great,” 

“I wanted to! It’s just—I mean, I did drag you out of your room in the cold and on really short notice—A hot coffee was the least I could do,” you shrug, “One of my friends works at the cafe and I was there doing some work for my literature class before I got your message and I figured I’d grab us both something before I headed over here… Sorry, I’m talking too much. Here, sit down.” 

He’s not exactly sure what to say, so he takes his seat beside you in silence, but not without a small smile decorating his face. The notes he had taken down to show you are retrieved from his bag, as well as his laptop. There’s a low screech of your chair dragging across the floor, and he turns to find you’ve scooted closer and you're leaning forward with your cheek resting on your palm, eyes intently looking at his research. 

“It isn’t much. I’m sure whatever you found is much more substantial, but I couldn’t show up empty handed.” Jisung explains, sliding the paper over to you. As your eyes scan the page, you make a few comments along the lines of ‘Oh, this is a good point,’ or ‘We should mention this.’

You seem to be very carefully reading his work. Meanwhile, he takes advantage of your preoccupation to let his eyes rake over your person. 

The first thing he notices is that you’re wearing a different cardigan, and he suddenly remembers your black one is still on his desk, unwashed and covered in his cum. Your hair looks soft, and when you mindlessly swing it over your shoulder, he catches a whiff of your lavender scented hair wash, and it makes him gnaw the inside of his cheek. You’re not quite close enough for him to catch the perfume you’ve decided to wear tonight, though he can vividly picture the gentle florals that linger still on your cardigan. His eyes trail down, and it’s only then that he notices your skirt—or blatantly, the length of your skirt. Your smooth thighs are exposed, full and fleshy and pressed together, and he suddenly wishes they were wrapped around his head. 

“Jisung? You okay?” 

“I–Yeah, sorry.” It’s clear that you’ve noticed his staring, and he all but rips his eyes away in embarrassment, “I was just wondering if you were cold,” He gestures down at your legs shyly, pretending the content he’d written on the paper was more interesting the sight of your plush thighs. 

For a moment he expects some harsh comment or outburst, but you laugh instead, smoothing the material down a bit, “No, not in here, at least. And the walk over was short, so,” His lips are pursed and his cheeks are burning, but you spare him from any further humiliation when you reach across him to turn the page over and quietly gasp, muttering some surprise under your breath at how extensive his work is. “This is really good. We can use pretty much all of it.” 

Failing to hide his beaming at your praise, he snaps his head over to you, “You think so?” 

“Yeah, I mean—,” The screen of your laptop changes over to a page of notes, “I pretty much wrote down all the same things. I’m actually so relieved, I was worried I might get paired up with someone who wasn’t gonna contribute.” 

“Bet you’re glad you didn’t switch out of the class now, huh?” 

Distracted in the notes and in the taste of his coffee, he misses your quick, confused glance his way. Smoothly recovering before he notices, you slowly nod and present to him the layout where you had already taken the liberty to assign him his designated parts. Not that he expected anything else; it’s endearing to see his name labeled over specific sections, color-coded in a blue, bolded font. He wastes no time in pulling up the screen of his computer, exchanging emails with you so the two of you can get to work on the shared document.

The time passes quicker than he hopes, and he realizes just how much he likes spending time with you. Talking with you online is one thing, but sitting beside you as you sip your drink and hum mindlessly, fingers typing away or flipping pages in a book? Completely different game. He’s sure that if it wasn’t because he relieved himself earlier today, he might have popped a boner from the simple act of being in your presence. 

Every once in a while, you make an occasional comment regarding a point or two you thought was worth mentioning or adding, and he’d oblige, making a note of it and sharing his thoughts here and there. Occasionally, he manages to steal a look at your thighs, which he swears you’re bouncing and squeezing together on purpose, but for the most part he keeps his focus on the task at hand. 

Towards the end of the night, there’s a moment where your hands brush his as you point something out on his screen, and Jisung swears he’s never felt more like a teenage boy in his life. He practically flinches at the contact, failing to mask his awkward reaction and pretending he really meant to fix his hair.

Bidding you farewell is possibly the most difficult of the tasks this evening, even more so than pretending he isn’t completely infatuated with and aroused by you for a whole two hours. When you stand from your seat and walk with him out of the study room, and subsequently, out of the library and into the cold, Jisung faces another of his many dilemmas related to you. He’s not sure if he should offer to walk you back to your dorm, or at the very least halfway there. Perhaps, offering you his jacket would be appropriate, since your skirt wasn’t doing much of a job at keeping you warm. 

“You live close by?” 

“Yeah! Just a 5 minute walk,” you point your index finger, “In that dorm right over there.” 

Jisung nods once, then decides to indulge his impulses. “Here,” he slides his hoodie off with a little less coordination than he would’ve liked, holding it out for you to take, “so you aren’t cold.” 

He can’t tell if your cheeks are red from the temperature again or from his gesture, but he hopes it’s the latter. The moment you take his sweater, pretty eyes wide in thanks, he sucks in a breath. It’s much chillier now that the sun is gone, and he fights the urge to chatter his teeth when he offers you a lopsided smile. 

“T-thank you,” you tie the sleeves around your waist, covering your lap. 

 “I’ll see you in class?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” you nod, flashing him a final grin before you spin on your heel to head home. 

The twenty-minute-walk-fifteen-minute-jog back to his room feels eternal. All of his hair is standing on end, but picking up his pace too much means that the icy wind, which has so graciously decided to blow in his direction, would just become harsher. His palms soak up the little warmth on his stomach, tucked under his t-shirt, as he alternates between speed-walking and jogging. The minutes drag on and on until finally, his building comes into view and he breaks into a run. 

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

The following morning when he walks into his astronomy class, he follows his usual routine of checking for you in your seat and is almost distraught when he finds it to be empty. It’s not like you to miss a class, and he contemplates reaching for his phone to check-in on you. It isn't until he pans his vision over to his own chair that he spots you. You’re accompanied by Karina and her partner, Heesung, taking up the empty seats beside his own. 

On your desk sit two coffee cups like the ones from last night, and he pulls his lip between his teeth to hide the grin that fights to break out.

You look up when you spot him, and Karina and Heesung look up, too. 

“Hi…” 

“Hi! Jisung, right?” Karina extends her hand out and he takes it, nodding to confirm, “I’m Karina and this is Heesung.” He mumbles another small hello to the boy, who acknowledges him before looking back at his computer.

“Good morning,” you greet as he sits, placing his cup on his desk. “You never told me whether you liked it or not, but I figured you’d grow to like it eventually.”

“I-thanks but,” 

“I know: Didn’t have to, but I wanted to. So just say thanks, yeah?” 

There’s a familiar burning on his cheeks that always seems to make an appearance when you’re around, but he doesn’t bother masking it this time. 

“I wanted to ask you if you would be free to study tonight?” 

Instantly, he bobs his head up and down, and you book the study room on your computer just moments before Professor Hwang strides inside the classroom, her glasses on the tip of her sharp, pointed nose. 

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

The frat house where the seniors stay is practically next door to Jisung’s dormitory, which is why when Mark, Chenle, and Jeno come banging on his door on Saturday night, he realizes he can’t use walking so far in the cold as an excuse to stay home. He also can’t use studying as an excuse anymore, since Mark had already caught him leaving the dorm a few times throughout the week to go study with you. That, and he ran into Jeno as he was entering the library just the night before. 

“You’ve been studying plenty,” they’d say, or “We told you about the party last week, no way you’re not going.” 

Anyway—the point is, he’ll have to endure tonight, despite his wishes to stay close to his PC for the chance that you’d want to hop into a game. He’d prefer to spend the night talking with you, but that’ll just have to wait until tomorrow. With a somber look on his face, he shrugs on a jacket and opens the door for his friends, who practically drag him outside. 

Jeno slings his arm over the taller boy’s shoulders as if to prevent him from fleeing, and the four of them climb down the stairs and onto the path toward the frat. If Jisung strains his ears, he can already pick up on the sounds of the party, even from here. 

“You think Chaewon will be there?” Mark asks no one in particular, but the boys all respond simultaneously with groans of distaste. 

“You dated her three semesters ago, why do you care?” Chenle starts, “isn’t she seeing Jungwoo now, anyway?”  

“That’s exactly why I care,” Mark grumbles, foot kicking a rock along the pavement. “He’s one of the RAs. If he’s there—” 

“He’s always there,” Chenle interjects, earning a glare. 

“—then she’ll be there, too.” 

“So, what happened with… what’s her name,  Minjeong? Why don’t you hang out with her?” 

“Nah,” He turns to Jeno, “She’s sweet and all, but I found out from Giselle that her and Chaewon are friends, so,” 

There’s a chorus of understanding, albeit a bit pitiful, “aah’s” and “oh’s” as the building comes into view. A few people are gathered at and around the entrance while others litter the parking lot with phones and solo cups in their hands as they wait for friends. Among them, and Jisung has to do a double take to make sure, he spots Karina, who waves someone down from the direction of the main courtyard. For a moment, he thinks it might be you who appears from between the treeline, but it’s Heesung who jogs over to meet her and he realizes how silly his thought was in the first place. 

In the months he’s known you, you’ve never once brought up a party. In retrospect, you don’t seem like the type to like partying at all. He can picture you clearly now, tearing through textbooks or novels for your literature class, or maybe even typing away to him on Discord and asking if he was online. 

He isn’t and can’t be tonight, and he’s very sorry about that, for the record. 

Maneuvering through the crowd of tipsy college students isn’t too difficult,and neither is their entry. The door is propped open, and Jaehyun, with his signature snapback that he wears backwards on his dark hair, calls them over from the drink bar. 

“First problem I see here,” he starts, “is that none of you have a cup in your hand.” 

“We’ve barely made it through the door, man,”  Mark laughs, clapping up Jaehyun and moving aside so he can greet the rest of the guys. 

“That’s no excuse, you should be sipping on something by now.” He waves his arm, “Take a look around, boys! This is what life is gonna look like for you guys next year—and the year after for you, Jisung.” 

Jisung gives a curt, disinterested nod amidst being handed some fruity, fizzy, white claw resemblant that probably wouldn’t taste much different from an Alka-Seltzer. He cracks it open upon being prompted to by Jaehyun, who initiates a “cheers” between the friend group. The moment the alcohol touches his tongue, Jisung grimaces, taking a few long chugs in hopes that the effect will kick in quicker and make the long night that awaits him a little less long. 

“Do you know if Chaewon is here?” 

Wordlessly, Jaehyun fixes his cap and points a single finger toward the couch, where Chaewon sits besides Jungwoo, leaning in to hear him over the music and giggling at whatever he says in her ear. The boys look over at the couple, then quickly glance back at Mark, whose face falls despite the fact that he knew to expect this. 

“Tough,” Jeno gives him a pat on the shoulder, “Hope you have better luck the rest of the night. I’ve gotta bounce,” 

“Yo, what do you mean bounce?” 

He gestures toward a girl standing near the beer pong table, who looks slightly familiar to Jisung, though he can’t quite put his finger on it, and smirks, “She smiled at me the moment we walked in. I’ll see you later, but I honestly hope I don’t.” 

The realization that his friends, in search of their hook-ups for the night, would eventually be abandoning him one-by-one kicks in just then, inviting Jisung to down the rest of his bubbly drink in one go. 

Mark rolls his eyes, “You ever notice Jeno is always the first one to get a girl?” His comment earns a few hums of agreement.

“I’m gonna go find Jaemin,” with his phone clutched in his hand, Chenle turns towards the door, “he just texted me he’s outside with Sullyoon and her friend.” 

“Wait, Jaemin is—he’s setting you up and not me?” Chenle only shrugs at Mark’s question, replying with a blunt and concise “yeah.” 

“I’m not a dog like Jeno though, so I’ll definitely see you guys later.” 

As if noticing he was facing the same unfortunate fate as Jisung, Mark turns to the youngest boy with a fearful look in his eyes. Jisung only shakes his head and takes a quick look around, “I’m not planning on hooking up with anyone here, so…” At this, the boy sighs in relief, handing Jisung another drink in solidarity. The two lean against the counter as Jaehyun looks between them, snorting. 

“Mark, there’s so many girls here.” 

“I know, but—” 

“But Chaewon.” 

Mark nods, echoing Jaehyun in a quiet, maybe even embarrassed voice, “But Chaewon…” 

“Don’t worry, I get it,” he adds sympathetically, “I’m caught up on my ex, too.” 

“Uh…” there’s a pause. “Which one?” This comment lands Mark a shove, playful, for the most part. He rubs his shoulder and hisses while Jaehyun, on the other hand, sloshes around the little liquid left in his cup and grabs the closest bottle of alcohol to him, along with whichever random mixer he finds first.

“The only one that really mattered.” He tilts his newly filled red cup back to drink from it, but his eyes peek over the rim and he pulls it from his lips to sigh out,  “Speak of the devil and she doth come,” he raises his brows and announces, “there she is now.” 

Following his line of sight, Jisung trails his vision toward the front entrance and at once, the sight makes each and every one of his limbs seize up. There’s a twisting and turning in his stomach that almost invites the seltzer he chugged to make a reappearance, and he’s pretty sure the color has drained from his face as he watches you walk inside the frat house behind Karina and Heesung. 

So many things go through his mind in such a short amount of time that he fears he may have had some sort of out-of-body experience or hallucination episode; it wasn't really you he was seeing, it couldn’t be. The way your skirt clings to your hips makes him grip his cup tighter within his sweating palm, and the lacy, corset top you’ve decided to wear, which shows off a tasteful bit of cleavage, causes him to swallow down the saliva that had pooled on his tongue. 

It was a more provocative outfit than he’d even seen you wear, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Jaehyun opened his mouth to speak, he’s sure he would’ve instantly become bricked up. 

“And of course she’s wearing that shirt…” Jaehyun fixes his cap for the second time tonight and straightens out his shirt, “Alright, wish me luck.” 

It’s not like Jisung would have interjected anyway, he didn’t really have the grounds to, but he couldn’t even entertain the thought before Jaehyun headed in your direction with decisive confidence. Part of him hopes he was referring to someone else as his ex, perhaps even Karina, since there isn’t another girl in your immediate vicinity besides her, but his bit of hope is crushed as he spots Heesung’s hand intertwined in hers. Surely, Jaehyun wouldn’t be coming up to her if she showed up with someone to his party. It leaves him to reach his regretful conclusion just as his friend and you make eye contact, recognition flashing across your features, along with something else. 

Unable to torture himself further by watching your exchange, Jisung tears his eyes away and grabs another drink to make this very, very long night ahead of him somewhat bearable. He turns to Mark, who he didn’t even realize had been talking this whole time, but the loud music and the cloudiness in his mind muffle out his speech. 

“—I mean this just sucks! I guess we still have each other, maybe we can find some girls who—” 

When did you even date Jaehyun? You hadn’t mentioned him once in the months he had known you. And also, why  did you date Jaehyun? Not that there was anything wrong with him, other than his habit of cycling through girls every semester. Mark’s “Which one?” comment had some truth to it, but he would have never expected you to have been on Jaehyun’s roster. It takes him a second to remember that Jaehyun is still his friend, but even then, he can’t fight the bitterness that settles in his bones. What did he mean when he said that you were the only one that mattered? How significant was your relationship with him? There’s too many questions circling his mind, and it isn’t until he downs the fifth drink that they start to blur. 

Currently, he’s passing the time conversing with Mark and following him around the party, but more importantly, avoiding you in fear he’ll steal a glance and you’ll be locking lips with your ex. He spots Jaehyun by the bathroom a bit into the night, but thankfully, you aren’t near him. It’s in the middle of a beer pong game with Mark when he dares to glance around in search of you. 

First, he spots Karina and Heesung, making out on the couch where Chaewon and Jungwoo once sat. You aren’t near them. Then he spots Jaemin and Chenle dancing with the girls they had met up with, but you aren’t dancing, either. 

He’s relieved to find you aren’t with Jaehyun when he spots him, finding instead that his friend is flirting it up with a different girl who is certainly not you. The sight completely pisses him off, and somehow makes him feel immense relief simultaneously. Right around this time, he decides he’s had more than enough of the party. You aren’t here anymore, and Jaehyun’s face is making him fucking sick. Mark is slurring his speech enough that he wouldn’t notice if Jisung just slipped, so he does just that, though he does make sure to mention to Chenle that he’s leaving on his way out so he can keep an eye on Mark.  

Outside, the cold is unbearable. The previously crowded lot is empty for the most part, except for a few people puffing clouds of smoke into the air by a bench. Not even the alcohol in his system is enough to warm him up, so he can’t even imagine how a joint could be worth sitting outside for.

The only other person sitting outside is squatted down by the curb with their knees curled up to their chest. As the autumn leaves crack under Jisung’s feet, they turn their head around. 

“I told you I don’t wanna—Jisung?” 

Your big eyes widen in his direction, and you shoot up from the ground. Jisung’s brow lowers in concern and he notices the only thing you have to cover up is a flimsy cardigan. You and your damn, flimsy cardigans. 

“What are you doing out here?” 

“Sorry for snapping I—sorry,” you shiver involuntarily as a gust of wind blows through, wrapping your arms around yourself, “I thought you were someone else.” 

There isn't a sliver of hesitation before Jisung shrugs off his leather jacket and begins to wrap it around you, grumbling, “Are you crazy? You must be freezing,” 

“I’m fine—“ 

“This should help,” 

“But- Jisung, how many of your jackets am I gonna take—” 

“As many as you need to.” Your lack of a response makes him look back up to meet your eyes, round and much warmer than the rest of you was right now. He clears his throat, guiding your sleeves into the arms of the jacket as he jokes, “or until you bring your own.” 

You smile, muttering a small ‘thank you’ as the warmth engulfs you, along with the smell of him and some cheap cologne only a college student would buy. He’s tugging the collar closer to cover up your exposed neck and chest, eyes flickering down at your bare skin despite being well aware that you’re looking. Where this newfound boldness came from tonight, he doesn’t know. What he does know is that his boldness is always rather short-lived when it comes to you, and tends to appear and disappear like random spurts of energy—he’ll take advantage of it this once. Especially now that he knows you’re Jaehyun’s ex and the most he might even get to do is gawk at you, he intends to make it worth it. 

“You must be freezing now, though,” you start, “should we go somewhere warm?” 

“How about the library?” 

You laugh, looking at him in disbelief, “The library isn’t open at this time, much less on the weekend,” “Right…” 

“Wanna go to mine?” Your suggestion makes his breath hitch for a second, but he manages to respond with decent clarity. 

“You live by the library, though. That’s like a half-hour walk. I don’t think you’ll make it that far without turning into an icicle,” 

“Well, I don’t really wanna go back inside…” he knows why, so he offers something else. 

“My dorm is five minutes away. We could go there if you want, b-but if you’d rather go somewhere else—”

“Okay,” you nod eagerly, “let’s go.” 

As Jisung leads the way, speed-walking to beat the chill that spreads through his newly uncovered limbs, he turns his face to you, watching as you tuck the lower half of your face into his coat. 

“I don’t know if you want to work on the project or—” 

“God no,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “I’m not that much of a buzzkill, dude.” You jog a little to catch up to his longer strides, “Besides, I have like three shots of Pink Whitney in me,” 

“Foul.” 

“I know. Can’t think about a project right now,” 

“I’ve had a bit to drink, too.” he admits.

“I can tell. You’re stumbling.” 

He snaps his head around, down to his feet, then back to you. “What? Am I?” 

There’s a small, stupid smile on your face as you shake your head. “No.”

He can’t pinpoint why this banter with you is so easy, why it feels so right. Or perhaps, he can, but regardless, his heart leaps in his chest as he scoffs, not fighting the shit-eating grin that spreads on his frosted cheeks. 

"It’s that building right over there,” he points.

“You weren’t kidding when you said it was close,”

The two of you climb the stairs and he opens the main door for you, watching you sigh out in bliss as you step into the warmth of the hall. You bounce around in a cute way that once more tugs at his heart-strings, still looking all puffed up and adorable in his jacket that entirely engulfs your frame. He leads you up another flight of stairs and onto the floor his room is at, and once the two of you stop in front of his door, he pats his jean pockets. 

“Oh my uh- my keys are in the pocket of the jacket.” 

You mimic his recent action, patting around until you find his keys, holding them out for him to take. 

Somewhat awkwardly, he fumbles with them until he manages to fit it into the lock, opening the door with one hand. He gestures for you to enter his room with a small shrug, “Make yourself at home.” 

As you step inside, Jisung makes it a point to quietly thank whatever higher power compelled him to make his bed this afternoon. The rest of his room wasn’t perfectly organized by any means, but at the very least, his bed, which you now sat at the foot of with your legs bouncing, was neatly made. 

“You have your own room?” You mutter in surprise as you look around the small space and notice the lack of a second bed. The tall boy beside you just shrugs again, toeing off his shoes in the corner as he pulls the door closed. 

“Yeah, uh… I’m one of the RAs for the sophomore class.” 

“Wow,” you sigh, “I wish! I mean, I love sharing a room with Karina, but it’s nice to have space for myself sometimes.” 

“That’s why you’re always at the library?” 

You nod, sliding your palms across his duvet, “It’s nice and quiet,” your fingers move to grip and release the material, and he blinks harshly to erase the sight of that from his mind before it causes him to spiral. It didn’t prove to be very useful, though, because your still-exposed thighs move and press together, just as they did at the library, and his dick gives a little twitch in response.

“I’ll get you some clothes to change into, that way you’re more comfortable.” he decides, more for his sake than yours. You don’t answer, continuing to look around, taking in the details of his computer that flashes in a bunch of different colors. 

“You know I gave up extra storage in my bedside table to be able to keep my PC? I let Karina take it to her side of the room so I’d have space for my setup.” 

Rummaging through his drawers, he pipes up, “you game?” as if it wasn’t something he already knew about you. 

“I love it. I stayed here for most of the summer just because I had my computer here.”  

Jisung picks out a pair of sweats for you and one for himself, along with a t-shirt he knows he recently washed, then he turns, handing it over to you. “I’ll change in the bathroom down the hall and then wait outside. You can crack the door open when you’re done,” 

“Thank you, Jisung.” 

There’s a gentle sincerity in your tone that makes him wanna say “anything for you,” but he settles for pursing his lips instead, leaving to let you change before he can embarrass himself with any baseless comment you wouldn’t really get. The effect of the drinks still hadn’t completely faded, and he fears he’s capable of saying just about any of his stupid thoughts out loud right about now. 

You weren’t completely sober either, not by any means. The trashy vodka your ex offered you in an attempt to reconcile was as bitter as the end of your relationship with him, and it was flowing through your veins and giving you that light-headed buzz. You stand up and slip off your boots and Jisung’s jacket, along with your skirt. Your top requires a bit more precision, the lace getting twisted and tangled in your uncoordinated fingers. There’s little huffs and puffs of frustration that leave your lips during your struggle, and you’d almost consider asking for help if it wasn’t completely inappropriate. 

Finally, though, you manage to get it off and slip on the change of clothes Jisung has so graciously provided. They’re warm and they smell good, and they’re much more comfortable than your outfit which is now folded on Jisung’s gaming chair, alongside your purse. 

When you look up in admiration of his impressive keyboard, which looks to be custom made, and your eyes trail up to his monitor, you notice something on the corner of the screen. The mindless doodle you had drawn beside your phone number that day in class had been very carefully cut out and stuck onto his screen with tape. 

“You okay?”

His voice calls from outside, quietly as if not to disturb you even though it’s you who is occupying his room. 

“Yeah, I’m almost done!”

“I thought that she was gonna assign them on Friday?”

Sung had asked you that on call, in regards to the constellation project you mentioned you wanted to start working on. Not Jisung, Sung. Sung, who is not in your astronomy class and would have had no way of knowing when or even what your professor would be assigning. 

“You’re Ji-sun, right?” 

“—Sung.”

The nickname sounded very right coming from his lips, from his voice. You never gave his nickname too much thought, because truly, Sung could just be a display name. And if it is his real name, it could stand for anything: Sungmin, Sungwoo, Daesung, Ilsung, Jaesung… Jisung. 

And then, you recall the time you spoke on the phone—specifically, the time you had to do a double take at your screen to make sure you hadn’t actually called Sung. It was the first time you had spoken to Jisung on the phone, and it’s the only way you had even spoken to Sung… something about it seemed so, so strangely familiar. 

Could it be… 

“Alright, I’m done!” Your announcement comes after the realization that he’s been waiting outside for a few minutes already. 

“Coming in…” He warns, eyes still cast to the ground in case you weren’t decent. They slowly make their way up, and something flashes across his features at the sight of you. You try to ignore it, still preoccupied by your growing suspicions. His computer is on… meaning…

“Let me let Karina know I left… I kinda just walked out on her.” 

Jisung nods and takes a cautious seat on his bed a few feet away from you. 

As you open the discord app on your phone, you scroll to the top to find his contact and type out a simple Hi, clicking send with your heart beating faster than usual. It’s an impulsive act, but you can’t help yourself. If there’s even a chance… 

Instantly, his screen lights up and through his headphones you hear the familiar chime of the notification coming in. 

“I knew it! I fucking knew it!” 

If it’s possible, Jisung’s face grows even paler than it already was naturally, and even more gloom than it appeared earlier in the night when he identified you as Jaehyun’s ex. All of his features are alert and in shock, watching as you spin around to face him. 

“Sung? Right? That’s you?” 

He’s struggling to read your expression, and it’s beyond obvious. The only change in his demeanor is the now tensed up shoulders and the redness that takes over the white on his cheeks. 

“I—” Are you mad? Should he apologize?

“Did you know all this time? That it was me, I mean?” 

He nods slowly, unable to find the appropriate words to say. 

Two things happen just then. First, your hand smacks his arm, hard. “You fucking idiot!” and Second, you topple into his arms, hugging him. Initially, his hands hesitate to wrap around you, hovering above your waist as you squeeze his neck. 

“You’re not mad?” He asks shyly. You shake your head against him, then lift off with your hands on his shoulders to take a real good look at his face. 

“No! I’m so glad, I thought I was going crazy. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

He shrugs again, a gesture he seems to do a lot around you. 

“Since when did you know it was me?” 

“Since I heard you speak on the very first day in class. I recognized your voice.” 

Your eyes soften at this small confession, and you look back towards his desk, “So, this is where you were this whole time while we played? This close? A twenty-minute walk away?” You shoot up from the bed and cross the small distance to the desk, swiping an index finger along the surface, then his mouse, then his keyboard, and all of his other equipment. Your eyes are beaming, looking around and familiarizing yourself with his things. All the things you wondered about him are now laid out in front of you, and it’s exhilarating. 

“I was so excited when I found out,” 

“You should’ve told me,” you repeat, still taking in his pictures and personal items, your profound curiosity surfacing within you. 

“I was worried about making a good first impression, you’re…” 

“I’m…?” you press, turning to him for a moment. 

“You’re really pretty in person.” 

In that moment when you turn away to hide your blush, with the words “you’re really cute in person, too” ready to spill from your tongue in a sweet and shy whisper, a small black pile on the corner of his dresser catches your eye. 

“What’s that—” 

“Oh nothing! It’s just—” 

“Is that my cardigan?” 

Forget distraught, forget embarrassed, forget every possible synonym for the word humiliation. Not a single one would do what he’s feeling in this moment even a sliver of justice. Jisung is convinced his soul has left his body, that he’s passed on or that the ground has swallowed him whole. In fact, he’d prefer it that way. He has never felt more panic in his life as you quickly approach the cum-stained cardigan that he took from you, that he pleasured himself with countless times, that he still hasn’t washed…

“You dropped it in class, and I-I meant to give it back to you, you know, a-after I washed it, but then—” 

As you turn the material over in your hands, taking note of and examining the stains, Jisungs breath completely cuts off. You spin slowly on your heel, facing him. There’s an unreadable expression on your face, and it takes every bit of the little pride he has left to not squeeze his eyes shut. 

“Are these—” His voice is no more than a sputtering squeak, “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. Fuck, you must think—” 

“Jisung.” 

“I didn’t mean to keep it for so long, or-or at all, really, it’s just—”

“Jisung.” He’s pretty sure you can hear him gulp. “Were you using my cardigan to get off?” 

“I-” 

“Were you?” You ask sternly. 

He sucks in a breath, unable to look at you any longer as the faintest of yeses leaves his pouty lips. 

There’s a moment of silence. A terribly long, excruciating moment of silence where Jisung can think of no way to make this up to you. He’s beyond ashamed, palms clasped together and sweating, face red with horror, inside of his cheek clamped tightly between his teeth, the whole nine miles. So much for mulling over how he’d reveal who he was to you, and so much for all the overthinking he did, all the times he planned out exactly what to say to you and how. Now, it’s all coming to an end because of this damned cardigan. He should’ve just washed it and given it back to you after the first time—no, he shouldn’t have used it at all. His mind is filled with thoughts of everything and nothing at the same time, and he’s already beginning to mourn the loss of your friendship when you say the unthinkable: 

“Show me.”

*. * ·

taglist: @heartlvrrss @albedoloser @zp00ks @simpforarmihn @toroufriteh @quokkatss @jising-jisang-jisung @camstqr @tangerinehyuck @ma-riiii @minlvrpage @hancafe

there are some users that couldn't be tagged, as tumblr did not recognize their accounts. sorry :((

[lunarflux]

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

a/n: chapters 9 & 10 are queued for thursday and friday aaaahhhhh

part 8: a talk over whiskey

word count: 2,232

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"I'm gonna fuckin' kill her, Tommy," John grunted with his fist clamped tightly at his side.

Tommy watched as his brother paced around the room. Arthur managed to find something unsettling about you, a night months ago when you reported police movements to a quiet rival that led to John laying bloodied on the street. The moment John learned it was you, his face turned with rage, demanding Tommy speak to you about what else you'd done to damage the Blinders through your dealings.

Tommy remained stoic. Polly sat with her cigarette softly burning between her fingers, unamused and unphased by John's anger. Arthur watched, unwilling to admit he was entertained by the sight.

"Call her in here, and we're going to have a chat—"

"Settle down, John boy." Arthur tried to place his hands on John's shoulders but was pushed away.

"Tommy, those fucks nearly gutted me!" John pushed further, "and I'm going to return the favor."

"We already put an end to those boys, John," Tommy sighed, lighting his cigarette to numb the tension in his head. "Nothing more to be done, so let's move on."

John grabbed a letter opener from a nearby desk and gripped it until his knuckles turned white. "Call her here, Tommy. I swear to God. Just one fucking cut, and I'll avoid her face for your sake."

Tommy blew smoke towards John's face, and it encased him in fog. He grabbed the edge of the opener and pulled John close. "I said, enough. You're not going to touch her. With a dull knife or your cock—no one touches y/n. Am I clear?"

Polly chuckled from her quiet corner. She held her cigarette to her lips with a sigh, entertained yet annoyed with a man's ability to hold a grudge. "Maybe it's time you have a serious talk with your ghost, Tommy."

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

The room cleared, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. Tommy stood by the window, his silhouette outlined by the soft light of the streetlamp outside. You could feel the tension in the air between you thicken with each passing second. The door clicked shut behind Polly, John, and Arthur, leaving you two alone in the quiet of the room. Tommy turned slowly.

“We need to talk,” Tommy said, his voice measured, though you could hear the edge in it. He wasn’t angry—not yet—but there was something sharp, something raw in the way he spoke. “And if we don't settle this now, then my brothers will resort to much less graceful methods.”

You didn’t respond. You let the silence drag on, allowing the weight of his words to hang in the air.

"We know about Cheltenham. And the blueprints."

Without a single shift in your expression, you spoke, your voice cold and steady, every word calculated.

“Were you expecting an apology or did you want me to skip ahead?” You watched him closely, your gaze unwavering. “Maybe get on my knees and beg for forgiveness?”

Tommy’s jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed as he took a step closer. “And we know that you sold out John to a dealer. Not that the aftermath is something you'd care to look into, however,” he muttered, low and dark, like he was trying to find something in you that would make sense of this entire mess. “You need to tell me how many fucking times you've put me in a compromising position.”

You allowed a small, almost imperceptible smile to tug at the corner of your lips. “So, I suppose we're past apologies, and we're going straight for the begging.” You took a slow step forward, closing the distance between you both. “Is that what you want?”

Tommy stiffened, his eyes darkening as he leaned in. “This is not about what I want,” he shot back. “I need to know who I let in my fucking house and who I'm trusting with my business. Now, I have kept John at bay. He's ready to jam a knife in that pretty little neck of yours, and if you don't give me an explanation, I might let him.”

You held his gaze, your eyes unflinching.

“Well?” he asked, the single word hanging in the air.

You took another step closer, so close that you could feel the heat radiating off him. The air crackled with tension, the weight of his anger threatening to spill over.

“Yes,” you said, your voice dropping lower, teeming with mild intimidation. “I did sell the blueprints. Yes, I did tell men when not to place their bets. Yes, a man came to me and asked where the police would be that night. And yes, I told him where John Shelby would be. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Tommy thought, at the very least, you'd sound remorseful, but you didn't. You didn't sound scared at all. You were confident in your words, and you didn't grace him with any of the details. He took the folder from his desk and placed it in your hands.

"Only took Arthur a few days to find all of this."

You laughed, a sound that never failed to leave him unnerved. You threw the folder back on his desk, then crossed your arms across your chest with a deep sigh. "Tommy Shelby, you are... Far more predictable than I thought you were.

"I wanted to see how far you’d go to unwind something you couldn’t control. And I wanted to see if you’d ever truly confront me about it. The real question, Tommy, is whether you’re going to let me walk away now or if you’re going to keep pushing—because I’ll give you what you’re looking for, but I need to know how far you’re willing to take it. What are you willing to risk?”

Tommy didn’t answer. His gaze locked with yours, and it was almost as if time slowed, the two of you measuring each other in that space. There was no fear in your eyes—only cold certainty. But there was something else in Tommy’s. His lips parted, but he didn’t speak. His jaw worked for a moment as if he were deciding whether to challenge you, to press further, or to let the conversation drop.

You lifted your heel and pressed down onto the scattered papers, twisting your ankle like you were stomping out a dying cigarette. "Everything in here... Never asked yourself once why it was so easy to find. Didn't consider even for one fucking second that it was left in the open because I put it there for you. Practically handed it to you on a platter with tea."

You held your head high, not once giving him the room to tear his eyes away from yours.

"Sokolov never leaves that office on the edge of Birmingham. Him, yes? And Caddell, the man who bets every Sunday. Probably at the Irish pub because he's there most nights. You wouldn't have found Bedlam, no, because you and Arthur chased him out of town with your razorblades in tow. So, that means, you found his former bookie, Kennedy."

Fuck, he continuously swore under his breath as you used all of your knowledge against him like a pistol slowly pressing into an open wound, ready to fire with the twitch of your finger.

"It is not in my nature to be vengeful. It's the vengeful who come to me if only to ease the burden someone else placed on their heads. They paid. I delivered. You've made a lot of enemies, Tommy, and many of them were willing to pay me to dwindle you down until you were nothing. Now, I gave them what they wanted," you explained with the subtle shake of your head, "and here you stand. Alive. So that means that regardless of what I sold, none of it was enough to take down the great Thomas Shelby."

The faint twitches in Tommy's fingers stayed hidden at his side as he listened to every word, each pushing on the back of his neck with a force only you could remove.

"You are one flame that no amount of truths and lies can snuff out." You let out a slow breath, your posture unchanging. “It was never anything personal. Just business.”

He looked at you for a long, lingering moment. For the first time, he seemed to hesitate. Then, with a slight shift of his expression, he finally answered, voice quiet but firm.

“No more games, y/n.”

You didn’t smile. You didn’t give any hint of satisfaction. You merely gave him a long, knowing look.

“That's not for you to decide.”

You turned to leave without another word, but the weight of Tommy’s gaze followed you as you walked out.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

That evening at the Garrison, the usual bustle settled into a calm that felt almost too peaceful. Following your less-than-pleasant conversation, Tommy left to tend to other business, but Arthur and John were restless, pacing around the bar. Assuming Tommy told them what transpired between the two of you, it seemed as if Arthur was weary, and John was irate, his anger towards you spilling out until you felt it from the other side of the room.

You kept to your own corner, nursing a tepid glass of whiskey while the Blinders jeered over nonsense that you didn't bother to try to understand. The muscle in your neck was tense. It didn't happen often that you felt like you overstepped, but backing Tommy into a corner felt much different than you were used to. He listened without argument, but the twisting of his nerves left you uneasy. Perhaps it was too much.

The other side of your thoughts slowly overshadowed the doubts though, reminding you, once again, that he started this. He looked into you. And while you knew that would happen eventually, the scene was much more poetic when you imagined it in your head.

The undercurrent of eyes watching you attempted to pull you from your moment of solitude, but they knew, underneath the face of indifference, you were studying them, too. For the first time, they could feel it: you weren't just a cold, calculating ally. You were watching over them—closely.

With a heavy sigh, you pulled a cigarette from its box and held the match to its tip. It burned, and within seconds, your lungs filled with the crackling numb sensation you needed.

It happened quickly—the subtle shift.

John stumbled by the bar, his head turned down with drunken laughter as Arthur commanded the room with a story from another night. A stranger approached him slowly, a glass in one hand while the other was pinned to his thigh. You narrowed your eyes, the faint glimmer of silver catching your attention.

In that moment, it wasn't instinct that took over. It was cold, calm, controlled fury.

You pushed your seat back, grabbing the neck of the open bottle of whiskey as your cigarette fell to the floor. With a single swing, the sound of glass shattering broke the noise, and the inevitable silence fell soon after. You barely made a sound as the man's head knocked against the bar. Pieces of glass protruded from his cheek, blood trickling down his neck in a scarlet ribbon.

John and Arthur watched you. Your chest heaved, and your eyes were squared on the man who only moments earlier held a knife at his side. The dagger lay in a pool of whiskey, staring back at you from the floor.

John's eyes narrowed, flickering to you then to the men who arrived at the Garrison with the stranger. He picked up the knife slowly, toying with the tip against his palm with a gentle chuckle.

The men, seeing that you weren't just another patron, hesitated. They looked at each other, then back at you, not knowing who was the bigger threat—John, who played with the knife, and you, silent and still. It wasn't fury, not blind rage. It was control, and somehow, that made you all the more terrifying.

They didn't bother with words as John walked towards them with a face that said he just needed to give the word. One word, and the Blinders would tear them apart. They left quickly, one of them muttering something about this not being worth the fight. Your gaze never wavered from them as they retreated.

John placed the knife on the counter and turned to you, his head tilted like he was processing what you'd just done.

Arthur was the first to speak, his usual cocky demeanor a little more subdued than normal. “That was... Interesting.”

John nodded, suddenly sober and all too aware. “We could’ve handled it.”

You scoffed softly, shaking your head with a low chuckle. "I'll remember that next time."

Arthur and John exchanged glances, both unsure of what to say. Arthur cleared his throat as he pulled a cigarette from behind the bar. He reached forward to give it to you, but John held up his hand. He pulled out his own box of cigarettes from his pocket and held it out.

“I guess, we're even.”

You didn’t respond at first, instead stoically pulling one from its box. John held the match for you, and in the silence as the cigarette burned, his lips turned upward in a smirk. He watched as you blew the smoke into the air.

"Arthur," you sighed, holding up your hand as the whiskey dried against your fingers. "I'm going to need another drink."

[littlestartemis]

This is like THE thing I'm most annoying millennial about, but I've decided I'm going to make a guide about this instead of just venting to my friends about it for the Nth time. I am not a fan of spotify. On the surface I already didn't like it, the idea of paying a monthly subscription for a media player that requires an internet connection was abjectly backwards imo. Then I actually used it recently, and I'm even more frustrated, because searching for songs doesn't give you any clear indication on if it's the Actual Song you wanted, or just some rando's remix or something. Not to mention the queue and playlist functions just not working 1/3 of the time, and... yeah.

"Man I wish this artist would release on spotify so I could listen to this song."

"Hey are you gonna put this thing on spotify? I'd really like to listen to it away from my computer/off youtube."

Allow me my one snarky comment here because I feel strongly about this and then the rest of the post will be a polite and detailed guide.

I'm gonna let you all in on a secret, you'll never believe this. There's a method, inside your computer (and phone!), where you can listen to music, any music you want... without the internet. Fuckin wild, right? (Making a break because this ended up being longer than I thought it would)

On your computer, even up to Windows 11, you have a thing called "Windows Media Player" that's just automatically on your computer. And if it's not, for whatever reason, lemme make things even easier for you with a link to install it.

You open it up, and you're greeted with this. (yours obviously won't be filled with FFXIV clips and songs by default, just work with me)

Now, I think everything here is perfectly self explanatory, but I've heard as time's worn on that the younger generations are becoming increasingly poorly taught when it comes to navigating computer programs.

Home is just the first thing you get when you open it. Shows all your recently viewed media on your computer

Music Library is your entire collection of songs in your music folder (we'll get there)

Video Library is the same thing but for video files

Play queue is what you have queued up to play in a list Right Now

Playlists is... the list of playlists you've made

So! Good first step, we have a media player. This thing doesn't need an internet connection, it can make playlists, it can shuffle, it's got it all. But like, how do you actually get songs on it, right? Well, we've got a few methods.

If you're a fan of contemporary/pop music, you've got the easiest time of things. If you're already someone who's ok with paying spotify once a month for their service (which is just a media player with always on internet), you shouldn't have a problem with giving that money directly to the artists you already like the work of instead. Not to mention, on streaming services music can be added and removed at the whim of... really any number of people. Whereas if you get yourself the mp3 file, you own that shit forever.

Most every artist offers a way to buy their music from them directly in album form. For shows, movies, and video games, that can be a little more up in the air, but it's nothing a quick google search of "[media name] original soundtrack download" can't direct you to. My first port of call would be to recommend this site here. Despite the name, it carries an absolutely stupid titanic repository of music downloads, the vast majority of which being for things that either no longer have legal means of purchase, or never had one to begin with. You'll have to download them one at a time if you don't/can't make an account and donate to them, but... that's literally just a time investment. Lil bit of elbow grease.

Now, let's say you're willing to put in that elbow grease, but what you wanted isn't here. Well, you've got an ancient, tried and true method to follow suit on next; youtube conversion. It couldn't be simpler. Copy/paste the url (the funny string of letters numbers and characters in the bar at the top of your browser window) into the thing that says "please paste youtube url here", and press the convert button. You've even got options to change the quality (if you need a smaller file size) and trim a length of time off the beginning or end of it! Again, you'll need to do this one at a time, and via this method you won't get premade names (beyond whatever the yt video's name was) or special album art or whatever. But if all you're after is listening to your music of choice without fucking spotify, that shouldn't be a problem.

And I'm not done yet! Circling back to my earlier comment about "some kids just don't know how to work their computers", some of you may genuinely be asking "what am I supposed to do with these mp3 files after they're on my computer?" We'll start with "where even are they" to begin with. You have something baked into your computer called a "file explorer". I keep mine pinned to my taskbar, but you aughta be able to find it and open it up by searching that name in your start menu

This is what the left side of that File Explorer window aughta look like, more or less. You only need to worry about two of these things here for our purposes; Downloads, with the arrow pointing down at the line, and Music, with the music note in the green circle. By default, anything you download, be it from a converter, more illicit sources, or 100% legal "I bought this from the band's website", is going to go into your Downloads first. (side note, if your computer ever tells you you're running out of space and you're like "what the fuck how??", check your downloads, might need to clear that shit out into the recycle bin) You're gonna move those files from Downloads to Music (I only recently learned that file explorer supports additional tabs now, like browsers! That rules). The simplest method of moving them over though would be to click once on the file, then right click, you'll see a row of pictures at the top of the right click menu, you want the scissors (this is called Cutting). Once you click those scissors, you head over to your Music tab, and in the empty white space, you right click, and at the bottom of the menu you'll see a clipboard with a piece of paper, (that's Paste) click that, and it'll remove that file from Downloads, and move it over to Music.

Your media player program is automatically designed to detect mp3 files inside that Music folder. So, from here, you just need to work the media player!

Open up that Music Library tab in your Media Player, and everything will automatically be grouped Alphabetically, you can change that with "Sort by:" in the top right. Know what else? If you do buy an album (or download one otherwise), it'll recognize that on its own too! You can sift through your collection by Albums at the very top there! So you just wanna listen to an album, you can pop over there, click an album, and...

Play all, right at the top, the red button.

You wanna make a playlist? Right click any song, and in the right click menu you'll see "Add to+", check that, and you'll be prompted to just add it to the now paying queue of songs, or to make a new playlist. Do that, you name it what you want, and now you can just right click-> add any songs you want to that playlist.

Now when it comes to phones, I know most people have iphones, and in that realm... yeah I can't help you sorry. But if you're not, we're in another "this should be on your phone already, and if it's not you can install it". Samsung Music. Open that bad boy up, and

Damn doesn't this look familiar. On my Samsung phone at least, nearly EVERYTHING I just laid out applies to making this all happen just on your phone with no computer. But, if you only download on the computer, and still want this shit on your phone, there's a VERY easy method there too!

Get a USB-C cord, hook up your phone to your computer, and you remember the method I told you for moving those files over from Downloads to Music? Works the exact same for moving things from your computer to your phone. Hell, your phone even has a Music folder of its own! Works the same.

This has been my very long and hopefully helpful PSA about listening to music via methods that don't involve God Damn Spotify. Go enjoy yourselves. Don't pay for shit you don't need to pay for.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Tricky Enemies to Lovers Situation

[Note from WQA: I answered a question yesterday that went missing after it was queued, so this is my best effort to recreate the original question and my answer efficiently...]

Anonymous asked: I have an enemies to lovers story where there's no opportunity for the characters to get together where they wouldn't immediately fight one another. How can I give them the opportunity to get to know each other and fall in love in a way that's believable?

The Abandoned Mission: the first thing you have to establish--which you probably have since you mentioned (in the lost ask) that you had their arcs fleshed out, knew why they fell in love, etc.--is what allows this love to flourish despite starting on opposite sides, because what you don't want to do is have one say, "I know you're trying to destroy my village, but I love you, so heckin' go for it!"

-- one starts to come around, realizes their side is wrong, and switches sides

-- both sides unite against a common/far worse enemy

-- both realize that the fight is pointless/futile/both sides wrong

This will be part of their character arcs... or at least the arc of whoever changes sides... as they start to see the truth through getting to know the other one, start questioning their beliefs, and begin to change their mind.

Accessibility: Your first challenge is finding a non-combat way to get them together, or at least get them talking if not face-to-face. It all depends on your story and what makes sense within it, but some ideas:

Supernatural Communication - Is there a supernatural way for them to be face-to-face or at least communicate? Think of the mental connection between Alina and the Darkling in Shadow and Bone, or the force bond betwen Rey and Kylo Ren in the Star Wars movies. It could be a telepathic connection, a magical connection, or even a magical object that allows them to be in the same place or simply communicate.

Technological Communication - Or, maybe your story takes place in our world, in the recent past or near future. Or perhaps in a far-future sci-fi world. Is there some sort of technology that could allow them to be in the same place or easily communicate? Something like a hologram projector, "holodeck" type area that can be accessed by people in two different places, or even simply video calls or text messages?

Old School Communication - Even if a supernatural or technological form of communication doesn't work in your story, you can always rely on good old-fashioned handwritten letters.

Stuck Together - Another option is for them to somehow get stuck together in some situation where they're both vulnerable. Like, maybe there's some disaster when they're both in the same place and end up in a survival struggle together. Or, maybe they're both abducted by an even worse third party, and have to work together to escape. Maybe the villain's resolve is weakening, so they're overthrown by someone within their organization, imprisoned, and then it's this faction who imprisons your character (and not the love interest villain), forcing them to work together to escape.

All you have to do in any of the above scenarios is figure out how and why they start communicating in the first place. Maybe the villain reaches out to the MC thinking they're a weak link that will spill information, or maybe the MC intercepts a courier carrying a letter from the villain to an ally--and the MC decides to write back. Maybe the villain is a little extravagant and holds a party via their version of a holodeck and your MC sneaks in and is caught... but this opens up the door for them to continue meeting this way. Even if they just meet once out in the woods, bathing in a lake and caught totally off-guard, there are always ways to get these two characters "in the same room" outside of a combative context. You just need to brainstorm a little.

The Ice Breaker: once you get them face-to-face or communicating in whatever way, there needs to be some sort of ice breaker to get them talking about something other than the conflict at hand. This could be one noticing and commenting about something they have in common... like noticing the other is wearing a cultural bracelet and realizing they have that culture in common. Or one realizing the other is fluent in their language, and coming to learn they were born there or their parent was born their. It could be one observing the other experiencing a red flag from their side and pointing it out with commentary. (Like: "See the way they lie to you? That's what they do to my people...") It could be one making a joke, a snarky quip, or illustrating some knowledge or skill that intrigues the other. It could even be a rendering of aid... maybe one catches the other when they trip, one patches up the other's injury, or one provides a translation or other nonsensitive data. Again, it just all depends on the situation in your story and what's believable.

The first version of this ask was so, so much better. I'm hoping against hope that I inadvertently replied privately instead of sending it to the queue. But I wanted to do my best to recreate it in case it really did get eaten by the Tumblr goblins.

I hope this version is still helpful!

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[sekai-no-reita]

A letter to Reita... From my heart to yours.

(Under the cut for your sake.)

My dearest れいた,

I know you will not be able to read this letter, but I hope these words still reach you wherever you are; from one soul to another.

I don't even know where to begin... I never thought I would have to write a goodbye letter like this to you. This all feels like a bad dream that I cannot wake up from.

I followed you and your journey with the GazettE for 18 long years.. I grew up with you. It feels like I've lost a dear friend, a family member, if you will. There are no words to describe this grief I'm feeling. Believe me, I have tried...

You guys were with me through everything from my teenage years to this day. If I was happy, you were there. If I was sad, you were there. You were always there. I could always rely on you being by my side when I needed you.

When you came to Finland for the first time in 2007 I queued outside the venue in the cold late October weather all night long, just so I could get a good viewing spot for the gig. It was insane... I was so cold and sleep deprived on the day of the gig, only having slept for like an hour, haha. But when you guys came on stage, none of it mattered. I was so happy. It was a dream come true.

And that's when I fell in love with you, Reita. That was the turning point. I had been listening to your music for a little over a year by then but Ruki was the one who held my heart. But then you.. You captivated me the moment you stepped on that stage. Of course I had always noticed you, your basslines and talent but.. when I saw you play live, it was almost hypnotizing. Especially during RIDE WITH THE ROCKERS. I was so incredibly happy you played it that time. I still remember the way you moved your belly and hips and shoulders when you were standing in the spotlight... Being admired by everyone.

I was fortunate enough to see you guys live two more times; in 2013 and in 2016 during your world tours. Especially in 2016 when I had the VIP wristband and I got to meet you. I still remember how surreal it all felt to me. It was all like a dream. The most wonderful dream. I was supposed to tell you then how much I admired you, how talented you were. But I couldn't get the words out of my mouth. Not with you staring at me with your (one visible) eye. All I managed to do was give you the little gift bag with the bracelet in it with a shaky "douzo". You were a little surprised by the gift and thanked me "Ahh, arigatou". Then you took my hand and we thanked each other again. Now I kick myself... I should've told you exactly how I felt. Now I will never get another chance to do it. Now you will never know...

You were so incredibly kind and sweet and caring...

Writing about you in the past tense breaks my heart. The world has lost something too pure, too beautiful.

Your passion towards the GazettE was a thing to admire. How you cared for your fans.. You never took anything for granted. All the tears you shed after your tour finals.. they were real (even when you in an interview joked that they were cgi *laugh*). That was how much you cared. That was your true strength.

There will never be anyone else like you.

The world will never be the same after losing you.

Your bass defined Gazette's music in a way. Everytime I listen to any of your songs, your bass stands out. It is incredible. I don't think any other band does that; puts the bass in such a spotlight. That's how important you are, ..were.

You are the reason I even own a bass. I wanted to be able to play like you. Sadly I cannot... I was too short-tempered and lost my nerve when I couldn't get my fingers to co-operate *laugh* But my bass is still there, waiting. Reminding me of you. Maybe one day I'll be able to pick it up again and think of you with a smile on my face.

I really do hope you know how loved you were -and still are-; by everyone. The band, the fans... How much you were respected by your peers and other musicians. You defined an era in v-kei. That's how important you were. Are.

There are so many more things I would like to say to you. But maybe another time. Maybe I'll write you another letter. Maybe someday I'll meet you again in the afterlife and I'll be able to tell you face to face everything I haven't been able to so far.

I hope you are now at peace and can rest.

I love and miss you so much.

Thank you for everything you have given me. It is a debt I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you.

Rest in peace, my beautiful angel.

With all my love,

Marisa

[subway-boss-jericho]

Queuing posts for most of my AUs! Check out this Masterpost! (Disclaimer! - Please don't comment about their iconic knife bangs! I left them off this reference to keep their faces fully visible.)

Legacy

-Premise- (TW: Implied past character death) Ingo has been gone a long, long while. One day, Emmet receives an unexpected lead- a letter addressed to him from 'extended family' living in the Sinnoh region. They are inviting him over to stay with them as a short respite from work, and the wife- Iola -says she has some information about what happened to Ingo. His suspicion is certainly warranted, but if someone had waited this many years, he figures he may at least meet them. He'd been needing to use his vacation days.

In the airport he moseys through the lobby, trying to see if he can spot them. He had a picture of the two parents, and they mentioned their kid would be here too. As it seems, said kid spots him first.

Rene is the spitting image of Ingo, with a few obvious genetic differences. Apparently, he's Emmet's nephew about a bajillion times removed. In the form of a weathered, verrry old journal, he learns the story of Hisui and of the legacy left behind for him.

-Noteworthy Points- This AU actually came from a freakishly vivid dream I had. It is an entirely self-contained story in the form of a google doc about a thousand words long, but I haven't posted it anywhere yet. I will eventually though! I don't normally put OCs into stories but this setting kind of necessitated it

-Links- Currently none! I will update this post with links to comics/art/writing if/when I post any!

[nuhahani]

Hc- Breakup songs

Summary: Your relationship was more than private, the world never knew you were in a relationship until you released your newest breakup song.

Pop star!reader au, Bonten Timeline

Warnings: mentions of drug use, cheating, miscarriage. Angst is you squint really hard.

Ran- bitter ft Trevor Daniel

“So the second verse that Trevor sings is actually the exact text message I got from my ex a bout a month after our split. I sent it to Trevor while we were working on the song and that’s really how his verse came to be.”

“Are parts of you still bitter about the break up?” The interviewer asked holding the mic back out to you. Your hands fiddled with the black sheer bodysuit as you thought about your answer. Normally you loved backstage interviews before award show performances but tonight felt different.

“I feel like some parts are still healing and knowing that he’s been moving on does hurt sometimes.” Your manager queued through your ear piece that you needed to be on stage in five minutes.

“Well thank you so much for stopping to talk with us tonight, we can’t wait to see you and Trevor perform your new song!” The world would be watching your performance tonight and little did you know he would be too, against his new girls wishes of course.

Rindou- escapism

Three years down the drain, three years of giving everything and he still left. Last night replayed in your mind over and over while your friends did lines in the back of the club. He gave you no reason other than he didn’t feel that way about you anymore. You stared at the letter R inked in red on your left ring finger, the same place he had your initial on him. You downed the last of your champagne and headed to the dance floor, your short bodycon dress ride up almost enough to leave nothing to the imagination. You could already see the headlines in mind, what paparazzi would say. ‘Princess of Pop music (Y/n) seen leaving Tokyo club with a new man.’ You knew he wouldn’t see the headline, but you didn’t care. You just never wanted to feel like you did last night when the world came crashing down.

The following morning you woke up in a strangers bed. They were nothing less than attractive but they weren’t him. Your manager had been blowing up your phone as you gathered your clothes and made a break for it before the person next to you woke up. In the mid morning walk of shame to your drivers car, the creativity hit you. You wasted no time getting to the studio and were thankful for the full bathroom and a change of comfortable clothes.

Despite knowing the song is about him, rindou still insisted on playing it in his clubs every night. He knows he messed up, he saw the magazines and trending hashtags about you. He stared at the ring in the little black box, he wanted to marry you but with bonten becoming what it was that just wasn’t possible.

Mochi- midnight rain

“So the song is about my most recent ex who I was in a long term relationship with for the past five years. We had discussed marriage and our relationship many times and I was either never ready to fully settle down or something came up that didn’t allow me to further our relationship. I really love him and I hope for the best for him. He’s truly an amazing man and someone’s going to be beyond lucky to say “I do” with him one day.”

“Now have you ended things on okay terms?” The women asked you. The radio studio you sat in was quite comfortable compared to the past ones you’d been in. Memories of you and Mochi played in your head. Cold winter mornings laying in bed. Hot summer nights when you couldn’t get enough of each other.

“I think we ended on as okay terms as we possibly could. I imagine he thinks I’m a bitch and I don’t blame him for that. At the end of the day we saw our lives going in different directions. It was the least selfish options for both of us.” He watched the interview on the computer in his office, he understood why you couldn’t marry him. He was grateful that you still spoke so highly of him.

“This might be a bit of a reach but it seems like you still have some lingering feelings.” Your face dropped a little at the interviewers comment.

“Yeah, I’m still very much in love with him.” He was also very much in love with you. Just two people madly, deeply in love with someone they can’t have.

Takeomi- hurts like hell

“I don’t want to know who she is.” You rubbed your temples. You had known for sometime that your husband had been cheating, you just didn’t have solid evidence. You were more irritated that he interrupted your work to tell you that he’s leaving you. Sure you wanted to cry but you would never let him have the satisfaction of seeing you like that. You didn’t wait for him to leave instead you walked out of your in-home studio to your bedroom. He didn’t bother to follow you, he didn’t give any explanation just did what he said he would do; leave. You made a few phone calls and within the hour you had changed the locks, listed several of your vacation homes for sale and went straight to cry in the shower. It hurt like hell, you didn’t understand why he did it.

It didn’t take long for outlets like TMZ to notice your wedding band missing. Word spread that you and your mysterious spouse were rumored to be divorced. You kept yourself busy and distracted until your grief turned into anger and you finally wrote your newest single. Takeomi wasn’t the only to hear it on the radio or Spotify playlists. But now those who knew about your relationship all knew what he had done. The harassment from his younger brother was nothing new but now it had been taken to a whole other level. The girl he left you for was no longer with him. She cheated on him not long after the divorce was finalized. You were younger than your ex husband but that did not make you naive enough to reignite your relationship when he enviably came crawling back. You were finally moving on and it brought nothing less than happiness to see him suffering after what he put you through. You guess he should’ve known that how you get them is how you lose them.

Mikey- flowers

“And thats a wrap!” The director yelled. You ran to hug your manager for all the hard work she does. Within the next few days you were watching the video back and you could honestly say it was the most fun you’ve had on set in a while. You filmed it entirely in the house you and your now ex fiancé once shared. He was out of town and was unaware that you were doing more than stopping by to pick up the rest of your things. You couldn’t figure out exactly when the love faded from your relationship. Maybe it was when you won your first Grammy last year. Maybe it was when Bonten struck a million dollar deal for exports and dealings.

You watched yourself dance around the house you once called a home in his favorite lingerie. Your mother once told you that the day he loves you the most is the day you will feel nothing for him at all. She had been right, the relationship grew so toxic. In all honesty you hadn’t wanted to leave him, you wanted to fight for the small spark that desperately clung to life. The breaking point came when you saw him going out of town for business the week of your two year anniversary. You understood that you were both extremely busy but it felt like you were the only one trying in your relationship anymore. You had left long before he got home that day to find your two million dollar engagement ring back in its box on the bed you once shared. He didn’t reach out, he fully understood. You had finally broken, you weren’t coming back.

Just hours after the music video was released a knock on the door of your new penthouse startled you. There was no one through the peephole so when you opened the door to find a giant bouquet of a hundred red roses and your favorite takeout. There was no note but you didn’t need a note to know exactly who they were from. You hadn’t blocked him on any social media but you felt like this, just like your relationship, was a private matter. You chose to simply send a picture of the flowers and take out on your kitchen table with a quick text to him that said thank you.

Mikey stared at the message, he had no intention of replying. There was nothing left to say, he messed up but he was still proud of you and your career. Proud that you put yourself first.

Kakucho- Angels like you

“This next song is the last one for tonight.” The crowd had mixed reactions to the devastating reality that your concert was coming to an end. “I know! I know! But this is an upcoming release called Angels Like You. I hope you guys enjoy it.” Kakucho sat in his private room at the stadium you had successfully sold out in less than ten minutes. The Haitani brothers lounging in the room with him as he listened. You weren’t playing the victim, the lyrics said just as much. You were fully taking all the blame for everything wrong with your relationship. You had no idea he was there but he was more than happy to keep supporting you. He knew you were wrong for each other but he couldn’t help clinging onto the small chance that he was wrong.

Your relationship had never been public knowledge, you knew that everything with him it needed to be private and kept away from the wondering eyes of the public. You knew about his job and what he did. You even had a small letter K tattooed behind your ear. But at the end of the day you had been the problem in the relationship, your ex before Kakucho had done a number on you. He made you beyond insecure, so when you met Kakucho and we’re being treated like the princess he sees you as you almost had a panic attack. But those unresolved self-issues started to shine through three months into your new relationship. Unfortunately, he still stayed but you couldn’t keep letting your problems destroy him. He was truly too good for this world in your eyes.

Sanzu- you should be sad

“Hi, I’m (y/n) welcome to my home!” You spoke softly to the host with his camera crew. You and your band were being featured guest on a streaming segment called ‘Live sessions from home’ where you got to perform several acoustic versions of some of your songs. The three songs you had chosen were from your newest album called Manic. You started off the session with an interview followed by your newest songs Without Me, 3am and You should be sad. The interview itself consisted of background knowledge of the songs themselves such as the inspiration behind them. “So the inspiration for Without Me and You should be Sad are based on the same person. An ex that I recently ended my relationship with. The songs themselves are a back to back response to the same breakup. I really indulged into a more personal look of life in You Should be Sad though. It was really nice to be able to be that vulnerable.

“Can you tell us a little more about the line ‘I’m so glad I never ever had a baby with you,’?” He asked softly.

“That line was the hardest to write actually. I found out about a month and a half before we broke up that I was pregnant. We weren’t planning it, it just happened but unfortunately I had a miscarriage…” You trailed off trying desperately to keep your composure and not cry on camera. Truth is Sanzu wasn’t prepared to be a parent, he can’t love anything unless there’s something in it for him.

Kokonoi- 7 rings

“You know calling her a gold digger is kinda funny since her net worth skyrocketed 20 million above you the second she released her new song.” Takeomi yelled as loud as he could over your new music that Rindou, Sanzu and Ran were blasting through the building. Sanzu had made it a point to twerk on the table in their meeting room.

“I SEE IT I LIKE IT I WANT IT I GOT IT!” The three men yelled. Koko was anything but amused, arms folded across his chest as he glared at the three. He hadn’t meant to let the words slip during the argument but it just happened. He had called you a gold digger and he himself was confused as to why. You had never asked him for anything, you spoiled each other equally, paid for things equally despite him protesting that he never wanted you to pay for anything. He never thought once that you would actually leave him for saying something stupid like that. An argument that started out by you simply asking if him if he wanted to go look at apartments together. Neither of you knew how it escalated to the point of breaking up weeks after deciding you wanted to live together.

Your new album was being released later this week and the argument gave you the final touch to it for one of your biggest hits. In fact the entire album was about Koko, specially your song Imagine. You had written both after the breakup and they were both paying off. 7 Rings was everywhere he went, every club, every store. He couldn’t escape the guilt he felt every-time he heard your voice. He looked over the necklaces in front of him. Diamond, emeralds, and rubies. But the sapphires are what caught his eye. Twenty thousand dollars later he was on his way to apologize. He was still dressed in his suit from work.

He debated turning around and running back to his car when the door swung open. There you were, stunning as you always were in his eyes.

[juicezone]

DNI / INTRO / LINKS

DNI as of 9/04/24

If you're following me for a sideblog it's REALLY really appreciated if you drop me a message or an ask - i won't publish it, but i'm not comfortable having non-agere blogs follow me due to past experiences. I know a lot of ppl have non-agere mains and have an agere-side, which is okay! But I tend to soft-block if it's not an agere blog ^^'

If you engage in sys/course. we personally are fine with systems regardless of origins, because the brain is complex and dumb, and sometimes it's hard to A) describe what's going on and B) it's nonya business. basically, we'll do our best to not interact with you, and we ask you do the same >TLDR: we are ENDO-SAFE. if you aren't, please leave us alone, and we'll leave you alone.

I'm probably not going to be following you back if you're under 18 and def not if you're under 16, sorry ^^' my "big" age is 21+ and i'm just not comfortable doing it

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free. Don't follow me if you're a zionist, you're not wanted here.

if you think padded regressors are gross/nsfw/ ect. it's totally okay if it's not YOUR thing, but don't assume that diaps make someone k!nk. This included if you think padding is fine unless they're actually used. There are so many reasons why someone might need/want to use them. don't be a dink.

I do agere/petre art! Please check down below in the LINKS section - follow the rules, please! And please be polite <:) Please and Thank yous are very much appreciated

INTRO / LINKS

Intro

🦈Hi! My name's TL ^^ I'm 21+, a trans man (he/it) and a system (yes, trauma origin, yes, fine with endo, just block and move on lol)

✨I regress somewhere from Really Little to Little-ish - I find it's kinda hard to find a range? sometimes I just babble (love the letter b. the bbbbbbbbb) to various levels of poor spelling :P

🦈I like sharks, space, Star Trek, Tigger, pokemon, lots of stuff ^^

✨Host of a system - they don't really post on here, but Flint + AV have their own tags! Capri has her own blog -> @capri-sunnyd (Plus i have an agere-png blog @juice-agerepngs )

🦈Bones is my fictional CG!! He's my favourite ever :)

💙These are some awesome things i've gotten or requested! > The best Icons ever with McBones! > Tigger/Sheep/Shark moodboard made for me! > McBones hanging out w my friends plushie! > An AWESOME board with Bones💙 AND My McBones! > A super cute piece of Rory by @/theogclownboy !!! >DNI banner credit to @thecouncilmakes (heads up, isn't a SFW specific acc!) >this AWESOME board Capri made me :D!! >Cooper + Rory + Ward Board by Moth :D!!! >Cooper + Ward OC board by capri!!! >Cooper bite Ward (extreme casuality /j) by will :D!!! >anon so nice to me... > > >there are DEF others i'm missing like past art trades, but i'm barely starting to organize |D

Links

Interested in sending me a request for agere or petre art request? Follow this link, read the rules, and send me an ask!

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Rory | Ward | Cooper | Cade Rory Ref ( Capri Ref ) | Ward Ref | Cooper Ref | Cade Ref

[icey--stars]

Born For Tragedy: Part 14

Series Index

She was tragedy. Nothing except death, fear and pain followed in her wake. When she was young, she was beaten. Now she’s the one doing the beating as an assassin. A mysterious stranger comes to her, paying an absurd amount of money for her to kill Beron Vanserra, and protect the eldest son until the job is done. She stumbles across a story much similar to her own, and knows what must be done.

a/n: so, tbh, my motivation for this story has been dying (with less than 2 chapters to write? why brain) but im going to try and power through it and write the ending. anyway, figured id update yall lol i have up to part 17/20 finished, just gotta get 18-20 finished 😔😔

also ill be honest, i didnt expect the route this chapter took despite having it outlined. i just let it go lmAo and it turned out pretty good i think?

finally, im on vacation all of today (this is queued lol) until thursday so i won't be able to respond to your lovely comments until then! nevertheless, i hope you enjoy :D

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

When Valda awoke, she practically launched herself out of the bed, breathing hard and eyes blown wide as she remembered what she had to do today. She had to get out now. She wouldn’t be caught dead in front of the High Lord of the Night Court. He’d snap and she’d be bloody mist.

So she quickly reached for the clothing she had on hand– all black and strapped on the weapons she’d had strapped on her for the ball.

There was a knock on the door as she finished the last tie on her boots and she practically leaped out of her skin.

“Come in,” Valda called, standing to glance around her to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything stupid. She’d winnow to her little hideout and gather most of her materials in the bags there and then go to Redwood and complete her task there before she came back to the House late at night.

“I’ll be honest, I thought you would still be asleep,” Eris drawled from the door.

Valda turned to look at him, already outfitted in fancy court attire. “I won’t be caught dead with that monster around,” she growled.

“Rhysand?” Eris asked. “I suppose that’s an accurate way to describe him.”

Valda felt near catatonic still being in the Forest House with Rhysand on his way. “I’ve got to leave, I’ll see you later tonight-”

“Wait,” Eris called as she moved past him.

She paused for a moment to turn back to him. “What?”

Eris smiled softly. “Stay safe,” he said. “And Rhys isn’t supposed to be here until noon. He’s only here for the afternoon. You’re okay.”

Valda nodded, taking one deep, calming breath. She felt more focused.

“Also, I think you’re forgetting a letter on the bedside table,” Eris pointed out.

Valda perked up and turned back before groaning. “I’m a dumbass,” she said as she retrieved the unmarked letter. Just a wax seal kept it closed, and even that was just black with no imprint. “Right, see anything else I’m forgetting?”

“I think you’re good to go. I’ll see you later,” Eris replied. “Stay safe.”

“An assassin’s life is never safe,” Valda said before she walked out the door. She marched herself out of the House, sneaking past servants before she was freed from the building.

A swirl of shadow distracted her and she narrowed her eyes as she walked down the side of the House. Then she saw a male. An Illyrian with hazel eyes and blue glowing stones. Valda held her breath as she recognized the shadowsinger of the Night Court. Fuck, she thought. She had to warn Eris about the spy who seems to not have noticed her yet, but also not get caught. This male, she knew, was a spymaster and an elite one at that. She didn’t want to get caught here, which might prove difficult due to a literal shadowsinger being here..

The male turned suddenly and Valda tensed, shoving her magic over her head like a hood.

The shadowsinger’s blue jewels, siphons, all seven of them, glowed threateningly. “Reveal yourself,” he ordered.

Valda glanced at the window to her right briefly, remembering a door that led into the room just around the corner and could be locked very easily. It might lead her directly into the guard’s lounge but she had no choice here.

Valda didn’t waste a second and turned and ran.

The shadowsinger didn’t shout but she heard crunching behind her on the leaves.

She opened the door, slipped through and then shut it. She turned the knobs for all three locks there. Then she turned toward the empty broom closet, glanced at the window beside the door where the shadowsinger was currently staring at her before sprinting down the hallway connecting the broom closet to the guard lounge.

As she barged into that room, there was a flurry of motion, but she got past them and continued sprinting as fast as she could, heading for the High Lord’s suite.

“It’s an assassin!” One guard screamed.

Not for Eris, she growled to herself as she gathered her magic. You should be more worried about the Night Court crony behind me.

“ERIS!” She yelled loudly as she barged past a group of servants. “GET OUT HERE ERIS VANSERRA!”

A familiar face finally popped out of Eris’s old room. The same place she’d left him. Her room now.

“What?” Eris asked. “What happened? Why do you have 10 guards chasing after you?”

“ASSASSIN!” The guards screamed.

Valda panted for a few seconds before managing to get out the words she needed to. “Shadowsinger. Night Court. Spying. Ran to warn you.”

Eris’s gaze hardened.

“Stop,” he ordered the guards barrelling down the hallway. “She’s not an assassin. She’s my spy.”

The guards paused. “Well why’d she come through the damn broom closet of the lounge?” One guard asked.

“Be more worried about the Night Court shadowsinger on the Forest House premises,” she growled.

“Secure the area,” Eris ordered. “Everyone on high alert and guards at every corner. Inside and out. Report any signs of shadows to me directly.”

“Yes sir,” the guards said. “If you’re sure those shadows aren’t a danger.”

I internally winced. I couldn’t take these off. My cover as Adira would be blown a bit too early.

“Not at all,” Eris replied. “Now go.”

Valda panted for a few more moments before chuckling. “Well that wasn’t the plan.”

“Where was he?”

“West side,” Valda managed despite her dry throat. “Mostly invisible because of those shadows, but armed with all seven of those damn siphons. Very clearly spying.”

“Did he say anything?”

“Wanted to know who I was,” Valda coughed out. “That’s all. I didn’t do anything.”

“Sir!” A servant came running, holding a paper. “A message from the Night Court.”

Eris hummed and took the letter, tearing it open.

Valda peered over his shoulder curiously.

Eris,

I see you found my friend. Tell me who yours is. I’m coming earlier than planned.

- Rhysand

Eris scoffed. “His mind powers are truly interesting to navigate,” Eris mused. “It seems Azriel was here and Rhys told him to do it. Now he wants to know what kind of Night Court High Fae I have here.”

“I need to leave,” Valda cut in. “Just tell them a short story about Adira. It doesn’t say when he’s going to be here. I need to leave.”

“And if he finds you?” Eris asked. “Azriel is likely still near.”

“Once I’m out of the damn wards, I can winnow wherever I want and get my actual materials,” Valda said. “I’ve been chased before. I know what I’m doing.”

Eris tensed a little before sighing. “I’ll glamor you until you’re out of the wards. Walk with you.”

“Fine,” Valda allowed, despite not needing it.

Suddenly, she felt a heavy blanket of magic wrap around her and she stood up straighter, humming.

“So that’s an invisibility glamor? That sucks,” she joked.

“Careful, you can still be heard,” Eris warned and began walking down the hallway.

Valda quieted, stalking in the wake of Eris’s footsteps. Eris sent off a few more orders as they walked, but made it outside. She felt a dramatic increase in the magic of the air and sucked in a breath.

It smelled like burning.

“I’m just strengthening the wards,” Eris whispered. “Meant to do it today before Rhys appeared, but it seems Azriel has taken advantage of the ones my father left.”

Valda didn’t reply, but inwardly wondered how much stronger Eris would be in comparison to Beron if his wards were that weak.

The end of the wards came soon and Valda reached for her magic.

“Stay safe,” Eris told her sternly. “And come here if you get attacked. No matter what.”

Valda briefly nodded, wondering if Eris could see through the glamor briefly before she winnowed straight to her hideout.

She felt the glamor slip away and took a few deep, calming breaths in the wake of the morning’s events.

That shadowsinger better not fuck around with her when she manages to get Eris to let her winnow through the wards. She could snap and he’d be gone.

“Right,” she muttered to herself and scanned the little treehouse before she began rapidly packing things into a backpack. Mostly weapons, some clothing and some other random materials. The treehouse was clean in a matter of 20 minutes.

Not wanting to linger, she pulled on her hood and winnowed to the general location she knew of Redwood. She’d only briefly walked through there for some food while on a brief scouting trip, but it was enough to get her close enough.

She squared her shoulders and marched toward the town, locking her darkness away under a veil inside of her. The town started out as a few stray wooden cabins, but quickly grew into a thriving residential area before she made it to the market square.

There were people talking everywhere and she saw many interesting signs.

A few were calling for Eris’s death and a few in celebration of Beron’s. A very diverse opinion of the lower class so far. Someone suddenly tore down one of the posters for Eris’s death and she blinked as she beheld the small, dirtied boy who’d just plucked it down.

A lord was in the center of the chaos, yelling loudly and dressed in all sorts of finery.

“He must be stopped! He didn’t even search for the assassin who killed him! Eris must be killed!”

“Get him!” A peasant female screamed. “Put him behind bars! Eris is spreading good!”

Valda wasn’t expecting this level of chaos already. Damn, she thought. It wasn’t a riot, but it was more of a mob against the lord of Redwood.

Valda pulled one of the males at the back to the side who’d been yelling briefly and asked in a kind, curious tone, “What’s happening sir?”

“This lord thinks he can call for the death of our High Lord!” The male shouted.

“You like Eris?” Valda asked.

“Of course! He’s lowering taxes for us and paying us more! My family isn’t starving anymore! And this lord thinks he can take it all away from us!”

“Well that’s certainly not fair,” Valda agreed. “Does this entire group like Eris then?”

“Yes!” A female beside the male piped up. “Eris is our savior. For once the farmers and merchants can live in peace!”

Valda grinned. “That is a wonderful thing.”

“Who are you?” The male asked.

“Oh, I’m a messenger for Eris,” Valda said. “The High Lord was looking for some feedback on his new laws. It seems that it’s held high in the hearts of the lower class.”

“Hell yeah it is!” The female shouted, grinning. “You tell that male he’s doing good that’s long since overdue.”

Another person who’d looked back rushed to speak to Valda as well. “My daughter, my daughter! The High Lord has saved my daughter from starvation. He’s-” The rest of what they said couldn’t be heard over more and more people vying for Valda’s attention.

That was all she needed before she winnowed onto a nearby roof, cloaked in darkness in the shade of a large tree.

The mob’s attention refocused on their original goal.

As she relaxed her shield of darkness when she wasn’t spotted, someone spoke to her from the left.

“Eris’s messenger, huh?” A male asked.

Valda jumped, balancing on the top of the roof with an unsheathed dagger in her hands.

“Hey, hey, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he placated. “Chill out man. I was curious.”

Valda narrowed her eyes before settling back down. “Yes, what of it?”

“What’s your name?”

“Classified,” Valda replied on impulse. “Yours?”

“Same,” he chuckled. “Tell me, why were you here?”

“I had a task that’s none of your business.”

“So you’re reporting to Eris tonight then?”

Valda was suspicious of this male. Very, very suspicious. “You don’t need to know what I’m going to do tonight. Leave me alone.”

“Hey, I didn’t do anything,” the male said, using a hand to use a placating hand gesture. “I was just curious about one thing.”

“What?”

“Who killed Beron?”

Valda’s jaw snapped shut. “An assassin,” she ground out. “Goodbye.”

She winnowed away, farther into the forest. She’d gained the information she needed anyway. Now she just had to wait out Rhysand’s visit until night came.

-----

Waiting seemed like it took forever, but she left the letter on the edge of the Autumn Court with a quick winnow. So it wasn’t all wasted. It just felt that way.

While she waited, she watched the Forest House from the outside before catching sight of those damn shadows within the meeting room. Then she left, resolving to hike through the red, orange and yellow forests instead. Only one person on horseback decided to attempt to question her on why she was there, but she merely swiped a dagger from her thigh and held it visibly while explaining to the person that she wouldn’t tell them and could stay where the hell she pleased. They left. Valda couldn’t help but chuckle a little. People were sometimes too easy to scare.

For a brief second, the thought that Eris wasn’t scared of her flashed her mind. Eris wasn’t afraid of her like the others were. And that little thing felt so prized to have with her.

When the moon hit its height for the night, she finally dared to return to the Forest House.

However, she saw a lot more guards than usual, which wouldn’t have been a problem normally, but some were dressed in black, which wasn’t typical. It was suspicious.

An entire group of black dressed people suddenly darted around a corner and a guard pointed briefly towards them.

Shit, she swore. Invaders? Assassins? Who are they?

She needed to know and needed to stop them. So she threw her pack into a tree and stalked forward, unsheathing her curved blade from her back and holding it tightly in her right hand.

Valda watched the group of enemies grow larger. The guards were mostly unaware of the gathering forces. Valda lunged forwards over the short fence, feeling the wards slide over her. No winnowing out now, she supposed.

“What was that?” One patrolling guard asks his partner. “Did you see someone-”

“Who are you?!” The other yells in my direction.

She holds her breath and stays still behind the bushes.

“Call backup,” one mutters. “We don’t know whether it's an assassin or not and Eris demanded full coverage of anything suspicious.”

“You go, I’ll watch.”

Valda internally growled in frustration. Back up for her and not the group of enemies where the group was almost thirty!? Damn it.

She carefully manipulated her power, placing a small sound barrier between her and the guard before covering herself in the darkness of the night and leaping out of the bushes, onto the grass. Not wanting to waste magic, she removed the sound glamor and lowered her darkness to the ground, knowing her black clothing was enough to cover her in the less lit area.

The enemies now stood tall and faced the Forest House. She saw a glowing magic start at the fingertips of one of them. Fire, she recognized. Autumn Court? But-

A huge fireball was shot at the building. The guards shrieked but Valda ran forward. She covered herself with a magic shield and then took down one person- then a second before they noticed her.

All of them jumped at her. Valda grunted as flame hit her shield from all sides. It wasn’t as bad as Beron’s, but it was wearing her down fast from all the winnowing she’d done for the day. It was fucking midnight. This was insane.

“Get them all!” One guard shouted.

Shit, Valda thought. She was lumped in with the black clothed people. That meant literally everyone was against her. Damned idiot, she thought to herself. She was an idiot. A complete and utter moron.

She yelped as someone shoved against her shield. The tiniest trickle of fear began to boil in her stomach. She’d long since taken her fear and buried it down into the depths of her soul, but she’d fucked up. Badly.

She drowned the area in pure, rolling darkness and escaped the people that caged her in even as swords clanged and people screamed in pain. She threw her darkness around herself as she leaned against a nearby concrete pillar, groaning.

One- no… three people came running at her with a sword swinging. She rolled to the side just in time, unable to muster the energy to shield against a sword. Maybe fire for a while longer but this… this was getting too close. She still had more than 20 people to get out of the area and she was too close. Not as close as Beron had brought her, but too close for comfort.

A dagger was thrown at her and embedded itself in her thigh as she stood. Valda groaned, fear flooding her senses more strongly now. She needed to get out. She’d messed up.

She shoved a shield of darkness around her again, using their lack of senses to her advantage but then-

“IT’S THE SHADOW!” Screamed one guard.

Valda swore.

“EVERYONE GET THE ASSASSIN!” Another shouted.

People sprinted for her as they unified temporarily against her. Motherfuckers.

Fear edged her senses as she turned and sprinted for the end of the wards in a desperate hope to escape. She could winnow somewhere. She could-

Another dagger embedded in the back of her shoulder and she screamed, falling down. The fear was endless now.

But then there was silence.

Silence wasn’t normal.

She turned, possibly thinking she was dead, but then she saw flaming auburn hair and nice court clothing. Then a deep blue fire in the palm of Eris.

Eris, who stood between her and her attackers.

Eris, who was willing to go against his own guards to do that.

Eris, who was protecting her.

“Funny,” Eris drawled. “I’m pretty sure half of you aren’t supposed to be here.” He glanced at the people in black. “And the other half is chasing after… who?”

“She’s the Shadow!” One screamed. “Kill her!”

Eris glanced back at Valda.

“Guards,” Eris commanded. “Shackle those dressed in black and take them to the dungeons for questioning.”

One went toward her.

“Not her,” Eris growled, the fire in his palm glowing even brighter. That growl sounded possessive, protective and downright aggressive.

“But High Lord-”

“Leave the assassin alone,” Eris snarled.

The guard reluctantly turned back.

Within seconds, the enemies were locked up. Not one of them had tried to run, which surprised her to be honest. It meant they’d had some other goal in mind.

Eris finally turned back to her, leaning down onto the balls of his feet. “Valda,” he said gently. “I’m going to take you to the healers-”

“Why?” She interrupted him.

Eris blinked. “What?” He asked, confused.

“Why did you protect me? In front of everyone?”

Eris opened his mouth, but hesitated. Then a piece of her chest yanked. A string connected to her heart. It yanked so hard she almost lost the minimal balance she had and stabbed her shoulder even worse than before.

Then it glowed golden.

Valda then felt emotions that were foreign to her. Fear, hope, and something along the lines of must protect.

She knew what that meant. Any fae knew what that meant.

“You’re my mate,” she whispered.

Eris didn’t breathe in.

Her eyes widened and she felt unbelievable terror fill her and she suddenly turned and sprinted for the wards.

Eris called after her but as soon as she was free- she winnowed away.

She landed in the frozen wastelands from her training, running for the entryway she knew all too well. A place she went to fear unafraid, because she was forced to not be.

That terror in her chest wasn’t fear for herself anymore though.

The dread was for Eris. This… mate bond would interfere with everything. And she would hurt him. She could never go near that male again. She would not let him get hurt. She must not.

As she stood in that same throne room in the Masters’ Underworld location where she killed them all.

She shivered as she leaned down to remove the dagger poking out of her thigh and then from her shoulder. No danger from either of them. They were not ash nor ash coated. She healed quickly and set out to make a plan.

A plan to protect her mate and to keep herself away.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

TAGLIST (see post for getting added)

@bunnymallowo, @officiallyunofficialperson, @margssstuff, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @graciereads, @eos-princess, @imma-too-many-fandoms, @mali22, @sassybluebird, @bubybubsters,

[sanguinepeccatorum]

OOC: I've finally managed to crop all of Vincent's rebirth icons. I just have to colour edit them and pop the border on and we're good.

[paradoxcase]

Chapter 8 of Gideon the Ninth

So, confirmed from the non-Ninth prayer that the Emperor is in fact God/John? It also seems to describe him as "The Lyctor divinely ordained", but, as we finally learn in this chapter, the Lyctors are actually a different set of people who seem to be not quite as immortal as the Emperor, and if *he* was "divinely ordained", that means there must be some other god somewhere who ordained him, right? Is that not what those words mean? And now I know why Gideon thinks Harrow is going to live forever. I am placated

The difference in the prayers is interesting. It reminds me of when, coming from a Reform background, my parents enrolled me in a Jewish Day School when I was growing up and then I went to prayers in the morning, and some of them were the same, and some of them were subtly different, and there were just also entire sections of the prayer book that were completely, 100% new to me. Like, "praised be to God who gives life to the dead", "praised be to God for not making me a woman", these are things we say, here? Where are the Mothers of the Torah in this prayer, what is this new prayer about, oh, it is praising God for drowning the Egyptians, that's lovely. Turns out the Reform movement made a lot of (very good, actually) changes to the prayer book, and absolutely no one warned me about this. So anyway, I unexpectedly relate directly to this

I did sort of figure that that prayer might be specific to the Ninth, though, since it mentions the Locked Tomb, which was established as an actual thing on Pluto, and also the Locked Tomb is mentioned in the name of the house in the Dramatis Personae

I absolutely love the sheer trolling audacity of the priest being all "Hey, you guys are here to learn how to become demigods. No one actually has any idea how that's going to work, good luck!" This sounds like a perfect recipe for total chaos

I have to take some umbrage at the whole thing of Gideon not knowing what a day/night cycle is because of the relative rates of the spin of the planets. Pluto's day is only 6 days long. At the beginning of the book, Gideon said there was not going to be light for *months*, which I took to mean that they were somewhere in the arctic circle (which is not that odd, since Pluto has an axial tilt that means that like half the planet is in one of the arctic circles), but like I said before, I don't feel like that particular paragraph actually makes a lot of sense with Pluto's orbit anyway, unless some words are being used in a very strange way. So anyway, I think if Gideon is confused about day/night cycles, it's because she's used to living in the arctic circle and logically could not possibly have ever seen actual sunlight at any point in the past 18 years, and is nothing to do with how slow Pluto spins, and Harrow is being just as dumb as Gideon here, which is frankly impressive

We have reached Act 2, and I think this is the last post on this I make before I get on a plane on Monday. I am queuing this for tomorrow (Monday), but my plane is not until 4 so god knows I will probably be on tumblr in the meantime

Ok, wait, one last thing. I am noticing the skulls at the top of the chapters. Initially I saw the skulls and was like, ok, nine skulls go with nine houses and there are nine chapters in Act 1 and each of the nine skulls with go with each chapter in some way, but that's not how it's working. There are only eight chapters, and all of them have skull 9, except for Chapters 3, 7, and 8, which have skull 1. 7 and 8 make sense, since they take place in the First House and all the rest take place in the Ninth House. But what about Chapter 3? Why does Chapter 3 have a skull 1? Is it because that's the chapter where Harrow shared the Emperor's letter? But there was another letter in Chapter 5, and Chapter 5 has a skull 9 just like the others.

Stealth editing one more time because I just realized what the Locked Tomb prayer makes me think of:

The way is shut. It was made by those who are dead, and the dead keep it. The way is shut.

[kyber-crystal]

grad letter to myself

i write this letter to you, my future self, around midnight on september 7th, 2022. and i’ve queued this for june 2nd, 2023 at 9:00 pm PST. by the time this appears on your blog you should’ve graduated high school! quite exciting if i do say so myself. how are you feeling now that you’re free of some of the most traumatizing 4 years of your life? did you take any pictures with anyone at graduation? do you have any friends or did you end up sitting alone at lunch for the rest of the year? 

whatever happened, i hope you’re doing well. i hope you’ve committed to your dream college and that you get to pursue the medical career you’ve always wanted. take care of yourself! also, i hope you’re going on that summer-long trip to korea. your grandparents and cousins are definitely missing you, and i know you are too. you deserve a break : ‘)

good luck and i know the future has some amazing plans in store for you! keep your head up, i believe in you

- sua from the past

[blametheeditor]

Are you going to continue ‘Jeremy Messed Up’?

That is a valid question. As well as an excellent reminder that the poor Jeremy was forgotten in the queue.

Please take this chapter, and the rest will be queued up for week to make up for my negligence!

Jeremy Messed Up: Chapter 6

NOT SUITABLE FOR ALL AGES

The Sequel To Mike Messed Up

First | Previous | Next

Mike was just a night guard waiting to be killed by the end of the week. Now, he is the proud, and soon to be sole owner, of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. Business is booming, animatronics are teeming with life, and Foxy is back in the spotlight after so many years. Even so, the dark past of Freddy's is slowly encroaching upon them. One with more ties than they could ever imagine.

Content Warnings: Mentions of death and murder, want to harm someone, cursing (lots of cursing), mentions of tracking someone down. Mentions of teasing about being in a relationship when not.

And the Jeremy is back!

____________________________

"Michael."

Said man freezes with his hands up as if he was caught red-handed. And no, he wasn't doing anything that warranted such a reaction. All he's been doing is closely following behind Jeremy as he's guided through the restaurant by the only animatronic that's allowed so much as a mile radius. Of course that kind of trust means constant glances behind to ensure the person who got him into the mess is no more than a foot away at a time.

Freddy better get his ass over here so Foxy and his newest first mate don't get too far away, or else they're going to have a big problem. And not the one that ends with someone screaming in terror and therefore making all the kids panic so every parent writes an angry letter the next day saying they'll never come back. P.S. the pizza was delicious though.

Picture this. Jeremy on the floor curled up in a ball. Mike pissed his best friend has been traumatized. Freddy, deactivated for a solid week.

"Have you ever realized you're the only one who doesn't call me Mike?" the man huffs as the bear finally lumbers his way over, motioning for him to follow as a certain Cake Snatcher stares at him with the silent statement they're too far away. "Sometimes it sounds like you're not even trying to talk to me. Who is this 'Michael', and why do you love him more than me!"

"I always knew you were the jealous type," Freddy easily fires back.

No. He can't smirk with appreciation. Because it reminds him of the whole Mr. Perfect being chosen over him. Proving he is definitely the jealous type damnit!

"Why are you acting like I've done something wrong anyway?" Mike murmurs. Because from his perspective, he's only been a good friend to someone who looked like they needed it. Still haven't completed his paperwork, but usually he finishes that after the restaurant closes anyway.

Freddy doesn't respond immediately, silently scanning the restaurant, a sight that's beyond ordinary. Just the lead animatronic making sure everything's in order. The kids sprinting around screaming in joy and not fear. No guests popping up in the facial recognition system to state they're not supposed to be anywhere near children's restaurant. The only thing that makes him think something's wrong is when he locks onto something, looking almost curious.

Taking the bait he follows the line of sight to see the bear is focused on...Jeremy. A bristle proves he's still the jealous type shit! "What's wrong with Jer?"

"You're awfully fond of someone who hid in an 'employee's only' section."

Blue eyes harden at the thought of accusing the adorable kid of being anything but innocent. "So?"

A paw gently snags his shoulder to stop him. The protest the ticking time-bomb controlled solely by distance dies as Foxy pauses the tour in order to say hi to a birthday girl. And don't think he didn't catch the nods passing between them.

Fine. They can talk, Mike obediently turning himself to properly face Freddy Fazbear.

Someone who's kept him company in the late hours of the night. Told the other three to keep the bickering to a minimum if he fell asleep to drool on the paperwork properly instead of from pure boredom. Saved his life when someone tried to kill him despite having a past of pain longer than knowing a stupid kid who didn't follow the rules because he wanted to be spiteful.

Someone who's also clearly attached to his original creator. Gets annoyed from time to time and fires a few insults too close to home without paying close attention to how it's taken. Constantly tells the man they adore he's too lonely for it to be healthy, but when someone struts into his life and doesn't mind the way he acts, thinks there's something wrong.

Because everything is wrong when it comes to Mike. The way he gains a restaurant and fixes the animatronics up. The way he makes friends. The way his parents never even wanted-

He sucks in a breath sharply at such a sudden and unpleasant thought, quickly tuning back into the chaotic noise of the restaurant alight with joy, and laughter. Such a stark contrast from when he first became a night guard just over a year ago. Something he did. He made it one of the top places for children entertainment.

Freddy watches him with concern. From the looks of it, he zoned out again. But at least he didn't faint. "Michael, are you okay?"

"I'm fucking tired, Freddy," Mike softly admits as he deflates. He can't help a lazy flinch though at the thought of getting lectured with letting a curse slip while surrounded by innocent ears.

"When was the last time you ate? Or slept?" tells him he gets a pass this time.

The man rubs at his face in the attempt to clear his head enough to think about what he did last night. Hell, this morning before the wonderful surprise named Henry decided to stop by. "Can't remember."

"We haven't been keeping an eye on you," Freddy sighs. The one saying he's disappointed he hasn't been keeping up on his duties as the leader of the Fazbear Gang of which Mike had been made an honorary member the night he got invited to join them in the dining room despite only being a night guard. "You don't even leave the restaurant and yet we don't keep tabs on eating and sleeping habits."

"Honestly I'm fine," Mike promises as he straightens up to show the topic is being put on the back burner.

As much as he'd love to take a rare moment and ask for a relaxing day in which his family would be more than happy to drop everything in order to do for him, he's now the full owner of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. The creator of the franchise visited an hour ago, and he needs to write a professional report stating why the demands of putting Foxy away and everyone permanently on stage during the day isn't practical. Someone who had hid inside his office and asked for help staying safe from whatever chased them down needs to be interviewed after finally calming down enough.

His food and sleep deprivation can wait. Those who need him now can't.

"So maybe I latched onto Jer a little more than I intended," Mike grins. And he can see disappointment in continuing to push himself like this in the bear's eyes, but there's a promise they'll read him a bedtime story with milk and cookies later. "But how could I not. He's adorable."

There's the eyeroll saying Freddy can't believe he decided this dumbass of a human was someone he should follow straight to hell. "It's good to know your preference toward befriending someone is measured by their 'adorableness'."

"Hey, you say it, but that's why I fell in love with you guys."

"Mikey be thinkin' we're adorable!"

The man in question finds himself yanked by the back of his shirt before he can so much as blink, knowing from multiple experiences there's now a hole thanks to a hook that shouldn't be as sharp as it is, and he's about to be suffocated. Any attempts to yell for help to escape become muffled screams as arms circle around him in a hug.

"Yer adorable too, lad!"

"Can't breathe cap'n!"

"Mr. Smith!"

Mike gasps for air as he's released a lot sooner than usual, coughing out a lung as a paw pats his back-

Hang on a second. The pressure is too light for that to be an animatronic. It doesn't cover his entire back, either.

"Y-You okay?" Jeremy questions. The kid pauses the attempt to help when all he gets is a stare filled with awe, his shoulders hunching up with attitude thinking someone's about to make a joke out of him. "What?"

Mike shakes his head, body jerking with the last of his coughs slowly fading out. "Nothi,i,ing. Thanks."

"Mr. Smith!" reminds him of why he's only gasping for air instead of lying on the floor in an oxygen-less daze. The little boy tugging on his shirt finally getting the attention he deserves as the restaurant owner kneels down.

Yes, kneels down. He's taught every kid who's a regular that if they need to tell him something important, he'll listen. Just because he's taller than most ten year old's doesn't mean he can't hear their side of an argument between two parents. Or, in extremely few cases, make him aware of a shady figure who's managed to stay just below the animatronic's radar.

"What's up?"

"Mr. Smith?" Jeremy hisses.

"His last name's Schmidt, which is a bit too complicated sometimes," Freddy explains.

Mike admits he irresponsibly pauses his listening in order to smirk up at Parts And Nervous currently nodding to say he understood the explanation. It stops when he notices the attention being given toward him instead of the kid who ran up to deliver urgent news. A few seconds of glaring to say he doesn't understand when those grey eyes snap up in order to spot Freddy's own smirk.

"I-I'm still scared of you."

"Sure, Mr. Fitzgerald."

Sure, Jer- what?

"-and then I heard a loud 'BANG' on the door!" the boy exclaims, bouncing up and down with excitement.

Mike's train of thought crashes and burns as he realizes there's apparently a 'BANG'ing sound near a children's restaurant, and Freddy knows Jeremy's last name.

That's not possible because he'd only know that from-

"Which door?" the man quickly asks, shoving aside the earth-shattering idea flooding his mind in favor of focusing on what's more important.

"Back one by Foxy's cove!"

"Foxy!" Mike calls as the animatronic immediately starts moving the group of kids around his stage toward the party tables. Closer to Bonnie and Chica, and far away from a terrifying unknown. The boy is gently pushed toward the others with the promise of getting a whole pizza to take home.

He's so focused on making sure everyone's safe he misses the fact Jeremy's gone pale white. Doesn't realize the kid moved to grab his arm as he quickly moves toward the back door with Freddy right beside him.

"Where is everyone?"

"Dining area and kitchen," the bear quickly replies after mentally looping through the cameras. "No one's in the bathrooms or hallways."

"Mi-i-ike!"

"What do you think it is?"

"If it was a gun, we would've heard it."

"Some teenager hitting it with a bat or something?"

"M-Mike!"

"It's a better possibility."

"MIKE!"

The sudden yell from Jeremy makes him freeze mid-step, whirling around in time to see the shorter desperately lunge to grab his arm. He doesn't have the time to ask what's wrong when he's yanked harshly to the side. Away from the door they can now hear a soft scratching emanating from it.

"Jer, you can't-!"

"It's-s-s-s th-th-them!" the kid sobs.

Mike's fist clenches at the proclamation what made Jeremy hide like he had has followed him all the way to the restaurant. His restaurant.

He turns to the trembling figure, a hand firmly clasped onto his shoulder. "Jeremy. I need you to tell me who it is. And I promise, I won't let them lay a single finger on you."

A sob escapes as the curls still caked in mud and dirt shake vigorously. "I-I-It's him!"

Mike turns to see Jeremy pointing at...Freddy. And before he explodes at the kid, or the bear, or everyone, he takes a deep breath as a paw is placed on his own shoulder.

"Freddy," he breathes, begging for clarity.

"Th-The other one!"

Mike's anger disappears as pure confusion slams into him. Not just confusion, though. Freddy himself forcing both of them toward the West Hallway as a low growl begins.

What the hell is going on? What does 'the other one' mean? Why is the person he trusts most acting like the world is about to end? Why is the bear acting like he did whenever Mr. Seal came too close after that haunting night?

What is he protecting him from?

"Fred-"

"Get in the office," Freddy snarls. "Now."

That, in combination with Jeremy's frantic pulling, makes Mike suddenly dig his heals down in order to face toe-to-toe with the towering animatronic as his friend yelps after tripping and falling when his grasp slipped.

"No."

"Michael, I'm serious-"

"Freddy," the man begins, his voice low. "I'm not going into that damn office unless you come with me, or I see what's behind that fucking door."

The growl grows louder as the blue eyes turn into pure black orbs, a single dot of white light. For the first time ever since it was supposed to be the last thing he saw before being killed by a suit. When it was promised they'd never do it again out of respect so it won't make him scared.

Low blow using that to try and make me run away.

"Do not test me, Michael."

"I'm not a child, Freddy."

They stand there for a few minutes. The silent statement the other is going too far and they should both leave it alone.

"...let me lock the door, and I'll meet you in the office."

"I'm staying right here while you lock it."

Surprisingly, Freddy doesn't try and negotiate it, turning around to secure the back door and immediately walk back over. Mike doesn't move a muscle until the bear moves to guide him down the hallway, ducking away so he walks by himself without being touched.

"I'm sorry."

Yeah, it was a real dick move doing the one thing the man still has nightmares about. The reason he never goes home because there he's alone in the pitch-black darkness, slowly going insane because he doesn't know if he'll go back to the restaurant and find his family waiting for him, or killing machines that never cared about him. Something he's never told the others because he knows it'd break their hearts, and besides, it's just a little bit of night terrors and insomnia.

He doesn't say he forgives. Barely acknowledges Jeremy huddled in the corner with fresh tears still trailing down his face. He only glares fiercely up at Freddy who can't help but glance away.

"How the fuck do you know his last name?"

Prologue  |  Chapter 1  |  Chapter 2  |  Chapter 3  |  Chapter 4  |  Chapter 5  |  Chapter 6  |  Chapter 7  |  Chapter 8  

[okiankeno]

music tag game 😎

rules: put your music on shuffle and list the first 10 songs that are queued up and tag 10 others to do the same!

Thank you to @unknownteapot and @babychosen for tagging me!! I love talking abt music I'm so sorry my little notes are so long uhhh

1. cough drops - almost monday

Go to driving songgg 🎸🎶 I know the lyrics by heart hehe

2. The Thrill of First Love - the Falsettos

THE FALSE TOES SONG OF ALL TIME!!! I loveee the musical Falsettos and both Christian Borle and Andrew Rannelis's chemistry in it is UNMATCHED. I love the wave-like motif in the piano that rolls up and down in the beginning, it feels very teasing, somewhat unstable, and representative of Whizzer and Marvin's relationship that they are singing about. The composer for this musical honestly made so many smart decisions but I don't wanna barf musical annotations lmaooo

3. Play Back - NIJISANJI EN's Ren Zotto and Doppio Dropscythe

Outing myself as a vtuber and nijisanji fan (derogative). This is #1 on my On Repeat playlist on spotify oooop. This song is my favourite vtuber original song ever and it's composed by a renowned Vocaloid producer, Teddyloid (I LOVE TEDDYLOID). Ren's singing is SO GOOD here. I don't usually like whispering or asmr like stuff but the way it's incorporated into the chorus with Doppio who is known in his past life for that stuff?? Oh it tickles my ears in a very good way. The MV is also hot anyways Mr Ren Zotto in his fboi era with his new outfit and this song I'm not complaining 😌😌😌

4. CoolAs - KEY

Tame Impala core song. I don't think I've ever heard a chorus that has such a distinctive pick-up in the melody that's sung deliberately separate from the rest of the phrase?? and it's done really well? From a classical musical standpoint it doesn't make sense but I really love it. Sorry I'm analyzing music now lol. The lyrics "Cool as" denote the beginning of the next set of lyrics for the next phrase BUT in the song it's deliberately used to END the phrase. It's so cool. this may not make sense lol please listen to the song i swear my analysis makes sense

5. hell of a good time - Haiden Henderson

I made a vampire angela playlist and this song is the most frequented of them all lol it's so good.

6. can't slow down - almost monday

Slay it's almost monday again! I love their vibes. They make really good roadtrip songs. This is one of their newest releases and it's been on! Repeat! 🔂🔂🔂

7. letter in a suitcase - Anarbor

I PACK MY BAG I GOT A LETTER IN A SUITCASE I GOT A HONEY WITH A NEW FACE 🗣🗣🗣‼️‼️‼️One of my favourite road jams to belt while driving hehe

8. Sucker for that Love - Robin Packalin feat. SAAY

I listen to this A LOT while writing fic lol the back and forth in dialogue of the verses really gets me going!! It's also a very groovy song and makes me wanna dance 🕺 I want to eat SAAY's voice literally she is so talented one of my favourite vocalists ever

9. BEE-PO - PSYCHIC FEVER from EXILE TRIBE

literally soooo cute it's a song about the heart racing one feels when thinking of a crush and how said crush is the only one that can save the singer from the condition. And the choreography is cute too aaaa!!! I wish the rap line had more lines tho (im delusional its a vocals-focused song lol and wtf is the line "come be my slime" ummm jimmy wdym by that???)

10. YUBISAKI NO ARIADNE - Crazy:B

Outing myself as an enstars enjoyer and Crazy:B stan ✨️ I haven't played enstars in so long but the music is fucking awesome. I love this motley anime idol group of a king that abdicated his throne to be a jpop idol, a cannibal, an assassin, and a robot clone of a dead man <3 they are singing about the myth of Ariadne and I love how 🔥 spicy 🔥 the song feels with the piano, percussion, accordion and violin.

I tag @96theater @honeyviscera @admdiamond @lilac-hecox and anyone who would like to participate and sees this post!

[catboyieejeno]

gameboy :: p.js — teaser

genre: gamer! jisung x gamer! reader, college au release date: 2/5/2024 cw: female reader, fwb to lovers, explicit smut, pervy jisung, male masturbation, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, inexperienced jisung, cum play/breeding kink, pet names, slight humiliation kink, size kink, creampie, probably more wc: 1.4k

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18+ minors do not interact!

The red letters that flash across your screen read ‘Defeat’, illuminating your dimly lit room with a shy, red hue. The instant the word appears on your monitor, a voice blasts through your headset, erupting in emphatic complaints and protests. You can hear the clatter of a keyboard and mouse being shoved around on the other end of the receiver, and it takes everything in you to stifle your laugh. 

“We definitely could’ve won that!” the boy scoffs, “I swear, sometimes it feels like you and I are the only people with any fucking game sense.” 

“Wow, thanks for the validation,” you joke, instinctively queuing up for another match. Your eyes trail up to the little icon in the corner of the screen that glows green every time he speaks.

“You know what I mean,” he grumbles, and you imagine he must not look all that different from the little crying cat picture he set as his discord icon. The thought makes you snort, but he ignores you, stating, “I think this is my last game,” 

You nod even though you know he can’t see you, “same, I have class tomorrow,”

“First day of the semester for you, too?”  

You nod again. “Unfortunately. My days of gaming until four and sleeping until noon have come to an end.” 

He laughs, leaning forward in his chair as he realizes something, “You know, I never asked what you’re studying,” 

“Oh,” you blink, “Well, the first class I have tomorrow is just a random credit I needed, but I’m actually majoring in-” 

It takes less than a few seconds for your words to drown out into a muffled buzz, and the only thing Jisung can focus on now is the silky, smooth sound of your voice. 

He would never admit it, at least not out loud, but your voice makes his heart beat just a little faster. The way each and every word rolls off your tongue makes his breath hitch, imagination running wild at the thought of what your lips look like when they mold to form each syllable and sound. 

Every night like clockwork, Jisung finds himself rocking side to side in his desk chair, eyes hanging low and round lips curved up into a smile as he listens to you speak.

It’s so easy to talk to him, too. By now, you’ve lost count of how many nights the two of you rambled off in voice chats, watching shows or playing video games or simply oversharing the details of your lives. It’s only been a few months since you met in a game chat, on that night where he practically harassed you for your discord after you carried him up a rank in-game. You’re secretly grateful he did, though you wouldn’t let him know that; the two of you effortlessly became part of each other’s daily routine, and now, calls with you are his favorite way to end the night. Tonight is no exception.

Jisung begins to mindlessly swing in his chair as usual. He’s humming passively between your small pauses to encourage you to keep going as his hands automatically start caressing his torso. It’s a somewhat innocent gesture, or at least it starts out that way: his palms sliding across the ridges of his abdomen as he listens to your voice. It’s better than music to his ears, and it urges his long fingers to dance closer and closer to his waistband.

“–and I thought about changing it, but I think with an degree in Lit, I could probably get a career in–”

Lost in your voice, Jisung slips his hands into his shorts, holding his balls as he fully zones out of the conversation. He knows you’re saying words and forming actual sentences, but his social awareness has dwindled completely and he absolutely can’t seem to get past how sweet you sound, and how much sweeter you would sound under… different circumstances. He moves up to hold his dick gently and furrows his brows. Almost accidentally, his thumb brushes along the underside of his tip, teeth clamping the inside of his cheek and gnawing on it to ground himself. Just as eager as its owner, Jisung’s dick jolts in his palm, progressively swelling up until it’s flushing bright pink. 

“You’re into English?” He manages to stop daydreaming and hone into the conversation for a fleeting moment, just long enough to ask you that simple question and keep your attention off of his rapidly shifting breath.

He’s blatantly playing with himself now, ever so distractedly. It’s an autonomous act: the way the pad of his middle finger trails over his slit to collect a bit of the pre-cum that has begun to dribble out in pearly beads. He hisses, then quickly snaps his mouth shut in hopes that you hadn’t heard him. 

“Yeah,” he can hear your smile in your words, “I think I always have been. I used to read all the time and—I swear, if you say I’m boring, I’ll personally come over and choke you–” 

As he acknowledges reality for a quick moment, his pace falters. His brows pinch, and he feels confused as he realizes he can’t stop or even moderate his actions, despite the shame slowly beginning to wash over him. The more you talk, the harder he grows. His grip is getting tighter, his strokes needier… he must be losing his mind. With a gulp, he thinks to himself, what would you do if you could see him touching himself like this to you? Would you think it’s sick and twisted or would you offer to help him out?

His head begins to throb as the room spins around him, but he really can’t seem to slow his motions. By now, he’s bucking his hips up and into his hand while the other covers his mouth, silencing the whines that threaten to leave his throat. He’s breathing heavily, praying to god you don’t somehow notice his perverted actions. Despite knowing that he isn’t thinking straight, Jisung can’t help the thoughts that continue to fog his mind, rampant and obscene. 

Could you hear the squelching of his hand pumping his cock, covered in his pre-release? Or the way he’s practically panting, reduced to nothing at the mere sound of your voice? He’s not sure whether or not his mic would even pick that up, but even so, the corner of his lips curl into a lazy smile as his mind continues down his twisted rabbit hole. 

In spite of not knowing what you look like, there’s no denying that he wants to give you all of him. He wants to feel himself buried deep inside your throat, your pretty voice vibrating around him as you choke on his length. He feels himself twitch in his palm and he subconsciously nods, picturing it's your walls around him instead of his own inadequate hand. Jisung huffs out once, fucking his fist wildly, picturing how much he’d like to feel himself bust inside of your warm, tight pus-

“Sung? Sung!”

“Huh? W-what?” As he yanks his hand from his shorts, the waistband snaps against his skin and he yelps out at the impact, “Sorry! I promise I was listening, it-its just, I got a little caught up with–” words are tumbling out of his mouth, before he can catch up to them.   

“It’s fine, it’s fine! Hurry, just pick your agent before the match gets–” but the timer runs out, and the lobby screen appears once more as you sigh out, “–canceled...” 

Jisung glances down at his hand, separating his fingers and watching how the sticky pre-cum leaves webbed strings between each of his parted digits. His stomach is also wet, and the tent in his pants is growing increasingly painful with each passing second. 

“What were you fantasizing about, huh?” Oh, fuck. The teasing edge in your words makes his nerves tingle, and he throws his head back as you hum into your mic, “Hmm. Well, I guess it was more interesting than what I was saying. Can’t blame you though, the topic of school is boring me too, and the semester hasn’t even started yet. Also, that can’t count as your last game. I literally won’t allow it.” 

You queue up for another game and Jisung sighs, watching the timer on the screen tick away. The picture changes, and the two of you are prompted to start a game. A few Kleenex wipes collect the mess on his hand and torso, and he settles back in his chair after tossing them, deciding his neediness will have to wait for now.

⋆ ★ still don't know if this will be a series or just one fic because as of right now, it's 15k words and it isn't even finished... but nonetheless, hope you're all looking forward to it. :) carina