#and if i took the chance and it would be late id be home an hour later than anticipated

[bennitastisch]

sometimes taking the train feels like a cruel joke by the universe

[peachesofteal]

Sometimes I think about Dr. Riley sitting in his office, fidgeting with a pen staring out of the window, waiting for something... someone. There's a storm coming.

I still think about Dr Riley.

I think about him having a very inappropriate relationship with his patient, Clover. Clover who got her nickname because her special ops team thought she was sooo lucky… until she wasn’t. Until she made a mistake, miscalculated, and got two of her teammates killed. Clover, who had to look Captain Garrick in the eyes as he told her to take indefinite leave until she got her head on straight.

Clover can’t think or eat or sleep without hear the high pitch whine of a drone in her ear. Public places make her skin crawl. She can hardly function. Manages to feed herself and slink down to her building’s gym in the middle of the night, when no one else is there. She runs herself ragged, to the point of exhaustion, and only then can she manage sleep.

The train is late.

The tardiness makes everyone on the platform uneasy. They shift and grimace, fingers fidgeting, eyes roaming.

It’s grey down here. Grey up there, too. A city blanketed in rain, thick cottony fog obscuring streets and buildings, rolling through day, washing it into night without giving the sun it’s singular chance.

It’s grey everywhere. Grey in your bones, in your head. Grey cotton stuffed between your ears to stop the bleeding.

You try to let the anxieties of the delay drift past you, like a warm breeze, but it feels like a winter’s wind instead. Icy. Vicious. Cutting to the bone.

You’re a dog at the end of a chain. Ready. Waiting for the signal. Captain’s orders.

Relax. You’re at home. Waiting for the call. Going to finish therapy, so you can finally get out of here.

The yellow line of the boundary lays straight in front of you. You count the cracks in the concrete and wonder what would happen if you took a step off the edge.

Just one.

A single step.

Would these people try to save you? Would they scream and run? Would they watch you die, body exploded into bits by a train that couldn’t stop? How long would it take you ID you? Who would they call?

It’s not that you want to die. You’re more… curious about it now. Morbidly so. Wondering when it will happen, if death is following you around, waiting to collect his due.

You steady with a long breath, attention focused on the wall across the tracks, counting each tile. Your eyes are still sharp, as sharp as ever, and you focus in on each one individually, judging the distance, imagining a scope in your line of sight, smooth trigger under your finger.

There’s a collective sigh across the platform when the train squeaks to a halt, and you intentionally board last, watching the backs and profiles of everyone else. Back packs, long jackets, anxious faces are all catalogued and sorted, filtered and stacked into neat little piles.

You tug at a piece of skin around your nail, trying to tear it down to the cuticle. The delay has made you uneasy, nervous. Not at all like you used to be. Not at all like your old self.

This will be it this time, you coach, train car pulling away and rocketing into darkness. You’ll get it this time. It’s almost over.

“Hi, sorry I have an appointment at ten, with…” you check your calendar. “Dr. Riley? I know I’m late…” the woman at the desk smiles. It’s clinical, just like every other time. You don’t think she likes you much, you’re not like her. Not like any of them.

“That’s alright, it’s just this way.” She leads you through a maze of hallways, coming to a stop at one dark, wooden door. “Dr. Riley? Your ten o’clock is here.”

It opens to the biggest man you’ve ever seen, clad in jeans and a black hoodie. Is this… is this the shrink?

He says your name. When you don’t answer, he says it again, a little louder. His Manchester accent is full of grit, a mouth full of rocks, but there’s something warm in it too, something spinning you in a soft cocoon of yarn.

“H-hi.” He extends his hand, a massive palm, dwarfing yours.

“I’m Dr. Riley, come in. Thanks, Laura.” He bids the receptionist goodbye, and clicks the door shut behind her, turning with a motion to the couch. “Take a seat. I was just about to call you.”

“I’m sorry, the train was delayed and-“ He holds up his hand, a motion to stop.

“You made it, that’s what matters.” Your hands shake, and you clutch them in your lap. It’s a side effect, they tell you. It’s supposed to go away, but you’ve stopped counting the days.

He’s not what you expected. Your last doctor in this building was an old man who wore a dress shirt and slacks. Dr. Riley looks like he’s in his forties. He’s built out like a solider, broad shoulders and broad chest filling out his casual clothes, glasses reflecting his focused gaze. There are scars on his face, faded white streaks on his upper lip, cheek and jaw. His nose has been broken and repaired, and there’s a patch of his eyebrow missing, like it’s been burned away. He’s part shadow, part marble, full lips, sandy brown hair, chiseled jaw, ocean eyes.

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?” He begins, glancing at the laptop screen.

“I need to pass my psych eval, sir.” You focus on the question, and not the lone drone rattle rolling through your skull.

“There’s no rank in this office.” Oh, duh. “Why do you need to pass an eval?”

“I’m ready to return to my job. Just need to pass this last step.” Sir. You bite the honorific off just in time.

“If you can’t pass a psych eval, I’d say the conclusion is you’re not ready.” Your spine straightens at the authority in his voice. “And you’re not here for an eval.” Wait, what?

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re not here for an evaluation, you’re here for therapy.”

“N-no, sir- ah, Dr. Riley,” his lips tilt, a fraction, and your knees press together involuntarily. “I’ve already had therapy.” He ignores your protest.

“You’ve failed three evaluations in the last two months. You can’t just keep throwing it all the wall, hoping it will stick. You need care.” The room pitches, and you’re trapped on a tilt-a-whirl, locked into a too loud, too bright carnival ride, sirens and screams screeching in the distance.

He says your name again.

“Sorry.” The tablet folds into a laptop, balanced on a broad knee.

“Tell me about them.”

“About…”

“The psych evals. Failing three in such a short time window is a feat.” You blanche. You hate that word, fail. It stings. It’s an affront to you, you who doesn’t fail. You who was the top of her class, first selected, first pick. Your captain depends on you, your team counts on you, to not fail. At anything. Ever.

“I… I struggled with them.” There are photos on the wall, framed medals and degrees. A picture of a German shepherd, and a hanging house plant of some kind, spritely and green, leaves and vines twisting from its perch.

“Let’s start today talking about why you’re struggling with them, then.”

“I don’t know why. If I did, I wouldn’t be here.” You’re peevish, and he raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, I’m just… stressed. My team-“

“is operating in the field without you.”

“Yes.”

“And it’s causing you stress.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why?” What is this?

“Why is it causing you stress? Do you not trust them to operate successfully without you?”

“No… I do.”

“What about your captain? Do you not trust him to lead them?”

“Of course I do.” Your fingers tighten on the chair. “I do. But they’re down a man, and they can’t be down for too long.”

“I’m sure your team cares more about you getting the care need, over rushing back into engagement too soon.”

“I know, but I’m ready.”

“You’re not. And I know your captain, Garrick? He wouldn’t want you to jeopardize your wellbeing.” How does he know cap?

“You know captain Garrick?” Dr. Riley smiles.

“I do. And like I said, he wouldn’t want you passed through if you weren’t ready.” He’s got you pinned, metaphorically. Back against the mat, shoulders immobilized. You can’t crawl your way free, can’t fight or twist out of his grip. “Do you want to talk about why you’re on leave?”

“No! No, I… don’t need to.” You complain. “I’ve had eight counseling sessions in the last two months.”

“They’ve clearly helped.” He drawls, glancing at you over the laptop. The eye contact rakes a shiver down your spine, and you find your feet.

“I don’t want to talk about it again, sir.” You whisper it to the ground, silently begging he won’t make you.

“There’s no rank here.” He reminds, voice soft and understanding. “But I’m your clinician now, and I won’t sign off on you taking another psychological evaluation until I’m confident you’re healthy enough to return to work.”

“Can I ask…” you taper off, but he nods to encourage you. “Can I ask why I’ve suddenly been switched to a new doctor?”

“You failed an eval three times. The practice decided you needed a different approach to care.” There’s a pause, and the laptop shuts. His hands settle across his thighs. “Let’s talk about what they call you.”

“Sir?” His lips press together but deigns to remind you a third time about rank.

“Clover.” Oh.

“Yeah, that’s what my team calls me. Only my mum uses my real name anymore.” You joke, and he smiles in a small way, gaze unreadable, bearing down onto you from above.

“Is there meaning behind it?”

“I used to be considered good luck.”

“Used to be?” You blink. Used to be. Like you used to be someone else.

“I guess… my luck ran out.” He nods thoughtfully.

“Why do you think that?” Because you fucked up? You got your friends killed? Because you got into a jam you couldn’t get out of? Because you were tortured into an unrecognizable piece of human pulp?

“I… I don’t know.”

“You do.” He states matter of fact, leveling you easily. You gape.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You mutter, looking towards your knees.

“How about mirrors?”

“What?”

“How do you feel about mirrors?” The question sets you aback. It’s never been asked, not in your previous sessions, not by anyone. No one knows about the mirrors in your flat, covered by shirts and sheets and dish towels. Turned away, forced into corners. The bathroom vanity obscured by a long white bedsheet; your reflection hidden at every turn.

“I… I don’t like them.” The honesty on your tongue tastes good, but it burns.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I don’t like to look at myself, now.” The laptop reopens, and he types in silence for a long moment. The quiet settles around the two of you, ticking of a second hand clicking away in your ear.

“I’m going to give you some homework.” Homework?

“What kind of homework?”

“I want you to look in a mirror.” You draw a sharp breath. “When you’re at home, and you’re alone, I want you to really look at yourself, see yourself, for as long as you can. If it’s only a few seconds, it’s only a few seconds. There’s no time requirement. The only thing you have to do… is look.”

“Dr. Riley…” you laugh nervously, and he meets your eyes with a serious expression.

“Only for a few seconds. Can you do that?” No.

“I can… I can try.” You can do whatever he wants, if it will get him to pass you on the eval. If it will get you out of here.

“Good.” The watch on his wrist glints in the afternoon sun. “I’ll give you my number. Text me when your homework is done.”

“Okay.” That’s it? He stands, and you look away, unable to focus on anything but the edge of the table, brown wood slatted together and worn with age.

“You can run away now.” He murmurs, standing between you and the door. “This was good, Clover. I know it’s not easy. You did well today.” Words catch in your throat, caustic and rough. Still, you try to get them out.

“T-thanks.”

You try to do your homework that night.

You stand in front of the bathroom mirror in your pajamas, one hand on a hem, waiting to pull free and reveal your reflection.

You can do this. You can. Just do it.

The tug never comes.

You stare at the white sheet until your eyes start to cross.

Better luck tomorrow.

You hold steady in your routines. Eating. Walking. Stretching. Strength. You do yoga in the evenings, weights in the mornings. You spend too much time in your building’s gym, mindlessly pounding out miles on the treadmill, headphones blaring at full volume. You do it all robotically.

You’re outside of your body. Out of your mind.

But you could still pull a trigger.

Sometimes, when you can stand it, you take your walks outside, bypassing those who linger on sidewalks, cutting through parks and alleys. Fresh air and sunlight are supposed to help, but you don’t think it does any good. The rot is still there, curled up in your bones, blackened and sticky, festering like an infection. It’s a monster inside your body, a monster you now share your life with, cutting away pieces, long after being freed from the cell.

You eat. You walk. You try to look in the mirror.

With three days before your next session with Dr. Riley, you still haven’t managed to complete your homework. You try, in the hall, in your bedroom, again and again in the bathroom, but it never happens, you can’t quite get yourself to cross the bridge.

Failure.

Dr. Riley is waiting for you in the lobby on the day of your next appointment.

“Hi Clover.” He smiles, and it’s genuine, warm, almost wrapping around your shoulders.

“Hi, Dr. Riley.”

“How was your week?” You lag him, letting him guide you to the office, where the yellow lights are dim and darkened, casting shadow across the brown couch where you take your seat.

“It was fine.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing, really. I’ve been at the gym a lot, trying to keep myself in shape for when I go back.”

“Exercise is good as long as you’re not overdoing it. Do you do anything else?”

“Um, I take walks outside.” His leg shifts, ankle on knee, and then his hand folds over his thigh. Something akin to interest brightens in your heart but is desperately snuffed out. He’s your therapist. “I walk in the park a lot.”

“Oh yeah? Which?”

“The one off of eighth.”

“I walk there too, nice park. Lots of trails.” You try to imagine him in joggers, taking a stroll. “I’m going to guess; you didn’t do your homework?” Heat unfurls across your face.

“I tried, but…”

“That’s okay. I thought we could try today, if you feel up to it.” Here? Now? Your eyes go wide. You look around.

“I don’t see a mirror.”

“There’s one on wheels down the hall, the occupational therapists use it all the time. Can I bring it in?” Your stomach twists up, nausea tossing your lunch from side to side.

“I uh… I don’t know.”

“You can do it. I know you can.” You hedge, unsure. Can you? Will you?

You can try.

“Okay.”

“Alright, close your eyes. I’ll be right back.” The door opens and shuts, and then opens again, wheels rolling close. You clench your eyes closed so tight it nearly hurts.

Warm fingers grab yours.

“It’s over here.” He murmurs, leading your blind steps away from the couch, coming to a stop… somewhere. “Whenever you’re ready.” You can’t feel him anymore, but you know he’s there, at your back. There’s a faint ruffle of air through your hair, against your neck. “Take a deep breath.”

You focus on the pace of your lungs, the expansion, the give and take of your ribcage.

“I can’t.” You whisper. You’re floating in space, unable to pull the trigger.

A kind hand on your shoulder brings you back.

“You can do it. Try.” The encouragement, the belief is a vine in your heart. Alive and green, it sows roots as deep as it can manage, clinging to fibrous flesh and hollowing you out. It catches on valves and ventricles, spiraling forward in a complicated web like an anchor.

You see him first, in the mirror. Stare straight back at him, falling into his gaze, vibrating in his hold like a child’s wind-up toy.

“Not me. You.” He says gently, and when you can, you bear it.

You almost gasp. It’s been two months since you’ve seen your own face, your complexion, your nose and your eyes and your chin. You’re long healed, bones set perfectly, everything right as rain. You look normal. You look fine. It’s the most shocking thing, to see yourself looking healthy, pieced back together, nearly whole. Your lower lip trembles with effort to hold yourself at bay, to keep yourself from breaking apart, drifting back towards the moon.

“That’s it. Great job, Clover.” His hand still rests on your shoulder, but you shake with a violence now, a torrent of emotion, threatening to cut you off at the knees. “It’s okay.” He whispers.

When you can’t stand it any longer, you close your eyes.

“How did you know?” You’re resettled on the couch, hands tucked under your thighs.

“Know what?”

“That I hadn’t looked in a mirror… since…”

“I know a thing or two, about coming back different. I know how it feels when you don’t want to see yourself.” You glance at the medals on the wall, primly tacked to a plush pillow, encased in glass, and wonder.

“Did you work with captain Garrick?”

“We were in a task force together, before I retired early to do this.” He smiles, easy and light, but there’s something guarded in it, something sharp, shark’s teeth aiming for docile flesh. It purrs, and makes you want to pull back more layers. Gives you something else to focus on, something else to fall into, but it’s gone before you can really study him.

“Oh.” It’s all you can say as he types something on the laptop, and then puts it away.

“That’s all for today. I’ll see you next week then?”

[write-tama]

"to live with the milkman."

╰┈➤ francis mosses (the milkman) x doorman!reader

sypnosis ; reader is worried because francis hasnt been seen in a week. they decide to pay francis' apartment a little visit..

containing! ; lois stilinksy, working as doorman, gender neutral pronouns, use of y/n, francis being a little sick and out of uniform, francis and reader eat mac n cheese tg :3

authors note ; this is lowkey a slowburn-- i didnt mean to write so much D: i started writing yesterday morning and just finished this morning LOL but ya its very just wholesome and soft ^^

4.12.24 | 2.7k words

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

As a doorman, you realize a pattern of people would often come and go through the apartment. You know who goes to work in the morning and who comes home in the afternoon, and you know what days they typically go out and days where they don’t.

So, I'm not totally creepy when I say I've noticed a shift in Francis’ schedule, right? He’s not one to typically go out unless he has work in the morning— which is usually Tuesday through Friday, but lately, I haven’t seen him all week.

Nothing but the worst truly went through my mind. He could’ve been eaten by a doppel, or worse, was mistaken for a doppel and was exterminated on sight! These anxious feelings went through my head as I nervously clicked my pen. I glanced at today’s list again, as if magically waiting for his name and picture to show up on the piece of paper.

click, click, click.

Through the office window, I heard the subtle steps of heels clicking against the worn tiles. Sighing, I sat up straight and folded my hands in front of desk, forcing my anxious thoughts to the back of my head in order to continue doing my job. I looked up to meet the gaze of thick magenta bangs with eyes barely visible I sort of wonder how she even navigates through her surroundings.

“Good afternoon.” She greeted, her thick lips curling into a polite smile. I nod as I took her ID and entry request through the letter box, scanning through the documents for any misspellings or misinformation. As I carefully examined the print, I notice Lois’ lips pursing into a curious point.

“You looked troubled, sweetheart.” She noted. “Is everything alright? Besides work-stress that is.”

I sighed a little, placing her card down before looking through today’s list. I checked off Lois’ picture before turning to my request checklist. “Yeah, I just.. I don’t know. Have you heard from Francis recently?” I asked, not even masking the worried tone in my voice. Lois hummed a little, as if thinking about the last time she has even seen the man.

“The last time I saw him, he looked extremely tired. Like more tired than usual. I think he was just coming home from work? He was coughing and sniffling a lot.” She recalled. “Poor boy.. He must’ve been sick for a while.” Lois shook her head. With her words I felt like a pressure had been released from my chest. Oh, good, so there is a chance he’s alive, I thought to myself. I slid back her ID and smiled.

“Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry, I just get worried knowing that a neighbor could’ve been killed by a doppel or any force of nature of that matter.” I lightly chuckled. Lois smiled, taking her ID before looking at me.

“You should talk to him. I’m sure he could use the company right now.” Lois suggested, but through that grin I could see that teasing smile.

I sighed a little, a little grin starting to form on my face. “C’mon, Lois, that would be way too embarrassing!” I exclaimed, crossing my arms in my chair. Lois lightly giggled, raising a white glove to stiffle her laughs.

“Oh, it won’t hurt, honestly! You never know what could happen~” she said, all singy-songy. I rolled my eyes before pressing the unlock button.

“Yeah, yeah. The door’s right there.” I sarcastically replied, a big grin on my face.

“Just think about it!” She called out as she walked through the door. I shook my head in amusement, listening to the door click behind her. I locked the door and returned to my previous slouched position.

Maybe I should pay him a visit.

My shift ended around late evening. I packed my bag and slid on my cardigan before locking the door behind me and hiding the key in a place only the next doorman would be able to find it. As I walked towards the exit of the building, I thought about what Lois had said earlier about paying him a visit. I never even really attempted to go past the lobby area of the apartment building. I had no purpose to anyway. And plus, it would’ve been a lengthy process to even request a visitor’s pass due to the security. I looked over to the doorman’s office, realizing that as of now, no one is on duty. Would it be morally wrong to go against the rules of the literal job I worked in?

Maybe.

But maybe my curiosity and anxiety could take over just for this one moment.

I walked back to the doorman’s office and unlocked the door. I placed the key back in its original hiding place before entering. I made sure to lock the door behind me before taking a look around the room again. Behind the doorman’s seat, there’s a door that leads to the stairway of the apartment complex. Its main purpose was to serve as a fire escape just in case of an emergency. Eagerly and swiftly, I gently pushed the door open, making sure to not make much noise. Once I walked out, I was met with the smell of old concrete and a spiral of stairs. I sighed to myself, remembering that Francis does in fact live on the third floor.

The stairs felt endless as my shoes clicked on the hard concrete. Fortunately, I only had to take a break only two times. I was finally at the end of the stairs, my legs tired from the endless climbly. I pushed the door open and was greeted with a typical carpeted hallway with blinding yellow-white lights that nearly burned my eyes. I sighed before trailing through the doors, looking at each number plate in order to locate the right room.

“Room 02, room 02..” I hummed to myself, just like how I would while scanning through files. After turning a corner, I was finally able to locate Francis’ room. I raised my fist to knock at the door, but the soft, soothing sounds of piano muffled through the wood. I stopped in my tracks, feeling as if my knock would disturb the perfect flow of the keys as I’m sure its song filled the apartment with grace. I waited for the keys’ song to slow to an end, the melody slowly fading out of the air and a sigh following its silence. I couldn’t help but smile, and sure this gave me enough proof that Francis was in fact still alive, but.. Something about his skills on the piano made me even more intrigued by the man.

I gently knocked with my knuckles, but making sure I was firm enough for the knocks to even be heard. From inside, I heard a chair scrape against wooden floorboard before footsteps steadily approaching me. A couple locks were undone before the squeak of the door filled my ears. I looked up and there Francis was— his eyebags were relatively darker and he was still in sleep attire with a baggy set of pajama pants and a fitting white tee.

“Oh— uh, (y/n)—” he said a little shocked to see me. I smiled a little, tilting my head at him.

“You shouldn’t have opened your door so fast. I could’ve been a doppel, y’know?” I advised. I heard him suck air through his teeth as he realized his rookie mistake.

“Mmm.. I’m sorry..” He mumbled, making me raise an eyebrow.

“You don’t have to apologize to me.” I said, leaning against the doorframe. “I’ve been worried about you since I haven’t seen you in a while. I just.. Wanted to check if you were okay.”

Francis raised his eyebrows in surprise. It made me wonder if anyone else but me paid him a visit due to his absence. We lingered in silence for a minute. he stared down at me as I stared up at him.

“..May I be invited in?” I requested, breaking the silence. Francis blinked his eyes a little, as if he had been lost in thought previously.

“Mmm.. ID and entry request, please?” Francis teased, smiling a little. I scoffed, immediately catching on to his wittiness.

“Ha ha, very funny, Mr. Mosses.” I sarcastically replied, rolling my eyes. His grin grew wider, clearly amused by reaction. He stepped aside from the door, allowing me to enter. I walked in, bag still clutched to my side as I took a look around the apartment.

It was humble but quaint space. The ceiling lights were off and frankly looked like they were never used, however, his lamps illuminated a soft warm orange on his furniture. He had a small box TV and dull red couch with a small round coffee table planted in the middle. Huddled in a corner was his old piano he must've been playing earlier. Francis closed the door behind me, making sure to lock it as well. “Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess.” He apologized, quickly rushing to his couch where clothes scattered over the armrests. He went down a small hallway I assumed to be where his bathroom and bedroom was. I took off my shoes and placed my bag on the table that sat next to the door before sitting myself on the couch.

I sighed a little, almost drowning into the soft pillows. It almost made me question why he would be struggling with sleep if he has a couch as comfortable as this. I could see a bit of his kitchen from sitting on his couch. It was a decent size with counters on one side and the appliances on the other. It seemed like he had something on the stove cooking as well.

Francis walked in shortly after and took his seat on other end of the couch, keeping a distance between the two of us. I brought my knees to my chest while hugging his couch pillows. I looked at him for a bit, trying to figure out myself as to why he hasn’t been out recently. Not only was his dark circles were more apparent, his hair was a little longer and messier. He looked paler than usual as well. Francis turned to me, a curious look on his face.

“Is it apparent..?” Francis asked. I furrowed my eyebrows, a little confused on what he meant.

“Hm?” I hummed in response.

“That I’m coming down with something.” He chuckled slightly. I shrugged a little, leaning back on the couch cushions.

“I mean.. Your hair is messier.” I smiled, admiring the frizz on the top of his head. Francis quickly glanced up before running his fingers through his hair.

“It’s not that messy..” He sighed.

“Well, I wouldn’t know. You always got that milkman hat on the top of your head.” I laughed. I glanced over to the kitchen again, realizing that steam was coming through the glass lid. “I think you might want to get that.” I suggested, nodding my head towards the stove. He hummed a little before getting off of the couch and heading towards the kitchen. I watched as he reached the top of the cabinets, stretching up with ease. I couldn’t help but stare at his broad shoulders to his slim waist defined by his white shirt.

“Hey, I made mac n’ cheese if you’d like a bowl.” He offered, his voice immediately cutting through my daze.

“Oh— uh, yeah of course. I was about to get dinner after I got off my shift but here I am.” I chuckled. He nodded before grabbing another platter to make my own plate. I sat patiently on the couch before noticing the remote on the coffee table. “Hey, can I turn on the TV?” I asked.

“Hm?” Francis hummed from the kitchen. “Mmm.. Sure. I don’t mind.” He shrugged before turning back to his task.

Something about this felt so.. Safe.. And homely. I felt comfortable, despite me never even being in Francis’ apartment before. It felt familiar, and I couldn’t lie to myself and say that this is the most peace I’ve felt since the news of doppelgangers came out. I picked up the TV remote and flicked it on, browsing through the channels before find a movie we could idly have in the background.

Francis came out of the kitchen, holding two bowls with forks in each. This time, he took his seat much closer to me before placing my bowl on the coffee table. “Thank you.” I politely nodded. I took the bowl and started to eat. Honestly, to my surprise, the food was actually pretty good for a man who worked day and night. I was enjoying the comfortable silence between the two of us as we enjoyed our dinner together— something I barely saw myself seeing tonight.

“Hey.. (y/n)?” Francis mumbled quietly.

“Yeah, what’s up?” I replied, taking another scoop of the creamy mac n’ cheese to shove in my mouth.

“Why did you.. Come here?”

Something about that question made my heart skip a little. Why did I come here? I mean— I came here to make sure he was okay. That’s my job as doorman. To make sure all of the neighbors are safe and alive. But even when I heard him through the door, clearly shown to me that he is still breathing, I stuck around anyway.

Why did I come here?

“Well— I uh..” I trailed off a little, sort of lost to where I should even begin. “I was just worried about you. That is my job, no?” I said, clearing my throat. I kept my eyes on the screen, a little embarrassed to even face him.

“Mmm.. I don’t entirely believe that.” He hummed. “You could’ve called.”

Oh, fuck, yeah no— he’s right.

Ugh, Lois!

You set me up!

“That’s true..” I chuckled. “I guess you caught me.”

“Mmm..” He mumbled. He placed his now empty dinner on the table before folding his hands in his lap. “So..?”

I took a deep breath, feeling my heart beat fast inside my chest and a warmth creeping up my whole body. I placed my bowl onto the coffee table as well, and finally mustered the courage to look at him in his eyes.

“Francis..” I mumbled. He leaned in a little closer, as if he wanted to lean into my words and trusted them to embrace him.

“I.. I just.. I think I like you..” I trailed out. My head felt cloudy as a tingling sensation danced all over my skin, feeling like a little kid during recess confessing to her elementary school crush. “I've liked you.. Ever since we met. I never really said anything because I felt like you weren't necessarily interested in a relationship.. But Lois and Rafttellyn would always point out how you would look at me and I just—!”

A strong hand placed firmly on my cheek— so cold against my blushing face— pulled me in to meet those soft lips of his. I was completely silenced and wide eyed, but I knew what he was telling me. Everything in those pink lips told me that everything was going to be okay, and he liked me just as much..

I fluttered my eyes closed, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling myself closer to his chest. The TV buzzed in front of us, sputtering incoherent actors cracking jokes and delivering their lines. Our finished bowls of dinner were scattered on the table, but it was easy to tell the food was delicious for no piece of macaroni was left unnoticed. I pressed harder against his lips, letting the thought of breathing slip my mind.

If this is what it's like to live with him—

To spend our evenings chatting

Eating dinner on his couch

Watching TV while enjoying each other's presence

Then maybe I could get used to this.

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

tagging ; @crybabies-heart @shypizzaperson @your-local-oc-maker @spearsillustration @mochi46106 @seraphlin @glxyaaandromeda (some ppl i tagged either bc they followed me on my old acc and just some ppl who interacted with my past content and just thought they would be interested in this fic :3

thank you so much for reading and reposts and likes are always so, so appreciated <3

[kimberly-spirits13]

Please Don't Leave (Fear Gas)

Jason Todd x vigilante reader

Synopsis: After returning from a mission to take down an organization similar to the one that trained you to be a powerful assassin when you were little, all you want to do is shower. Life is peaceful waiting for Jason to come hime until you get a call from Stephanie saying that Jason was blasted with fear gas.

Warnings: Mentions of needles, IV's, trauma, death, PTSD, that kind of stuff

FYI: Reader was raised in a Red Room type place and has powerful magic but it's not a super important part of the story, it's just mentioned

Word Count: 2488

It was late at night, and you were winding down to shower and go to sleep. Tonight, was your night off after being away on a short mission for the League. You were tired and sore all over, and all you wanted to do was freshen up and wait for your boyfriend to come home so that you could sleep. Jason was meant to be home in around 20 minutes, and you were waiting for him to come back. Steam from the shower filled the room and you stepped into the shower and closed the door behind you. The lather of your shampoo in your hair made a bubbling feeling on your scalp and the smell of your shampoo created a calming feeling around you. Ease washed down your spine as you turned washed the shampoo from your face and started conditioning your hair when your phone suddenly lit up. You wiped your eyes and got the conditioner out of the way so that you wouldn’t get it in your eyes. The caller ID read “Steph” and a feeling of dread creating a gaping pit in your stomach.  

            “Hey Steph.” You answered, “What’s wrong?”

            “Are you in the shower, not on patrol?” She asked, “Never mind, just, Jason got hurt bad and we need you at the Manor ASAP.”

            “Okay I’m coming, uh-“ A sense of urgency got you moving faster than you’d want to be at this hour, “what happened, what’s wrong?”

            “Scarecrow bust gone wrong. He created a new toxin that is more intense than usual. It makes you relive physical feelings with phantom pain.” “We’re five minutes ETA from the cave. Jason keeps calling out for you and it’s the only way to lower his heart rate before he has a heart attack. He’s reliving the night in the warehouse Y/N.”

            “Okay, okay I’m coming” You got choked up talking to her.

            Realizing that your sense of dread was right, you put Steph on the speaker and started washing the rest of your conditioner as fast as possible. There was no time for drying your hair and you got into clothes as fast as possible as Stephanie explained what was going on. You started running towards your door and grabbed the emergency duffle bag that you kept in the closet in case something like this happened. Sprinting towards the front door in a cold sweat, you locked it and realized that your lights were still on.

            “Lumine off (lights off)!” You snapped a finger towards your lights and the apartment went dark.

            You held onto your bag and took a breath, closing your eyes and thinking about Wayne Manor, “suscipe me huc (take me here).” 

            It was quiet all the sudden, with a breeze filling the room around you and a bright light dropping you on your feet. When you opened your eyes again, you were in the living room of the manor where you suspected someone would be.

            “Ms. Y/N!” Alfred stood with a quick bewilderment, clearly expecting you to use the front door and not the living room as an entrance, “Master Todd is in the cave. I shall lead the way.”

            You and Alfred started for the cave, your bag still in hand and anxiety becoming more and more intense. Alfred pressed a button into the clock and an elevator was revealed. Starting into the elevator first, you pressed the button for the cave before Alfred had a chance to.

            “Sorry about the scare Alfred.” You said suddenly realizing that you had startled the sweet man.

            “Oh no worries. I’ve plenty a fright with this gaggle of vigilantes.” He said this with a smile in his voice, trying to make you feel less intense. 

            You gave him a smile before returning to a worried, slightly stoic expression. When the bell chimed and the elevator door opened, you ran towards the med bay where you saw Dick and Bruce hauling Jason to the table. Jason’s eyes were rolling back into his head, and he was coming in and out of consciousness. You ran over and helped support his body weight so that you could be close to him. Jason was screaming something about the Joker. He was flinching and convulsing like he was being hit repeatedly. As Dick and Bruce hauled him closer to you, trying not to get punched.

            “We got him here as fast as we could, he got a direct hit jumping to stop Scarecrow from releasing the gas into the water supply.” Dick explained as you held onto Jason and Bruce barked out orders to everyone around.

            “Okay, alright, Jason, look at me babe Jay!” you set him down on the table and held him up by his sides, “Jay I’m here, you’re okay, you’re alright. Hey, hey! Calm down, you can do it love. Breathe for me, you’re okay I promise.”

            Jason held his head up and looked at you with bloodshot eyes. His pupils were blown out and he was shaking with cold sweat. 

            “Y/N/N?” He muttered out quietly in sobs, “I need you; I need you. Help me.”

            “I’m right here Jay, lay down. Breathe for me Jay.” You started pushing him back lightly so that Dick could hook him to an IV and get antidote going.

            Dick came up behind you and got the shot ready for Jason when Jason’s eyes went wider than you thought possible, and he started pulling you towards him and screaming like he was being set alight.

            “Y/N, no!” Jason shrieked and started throwing punches towards Dick like he was fighting for his life, “Get away from her Joker!” 

            Dick ducked behind you and away from Jason’s sight, realizing that Jason was hallucinating again. The poking of the IV and Jason being pushed backwards caused him to grab onto you and start screaming hysterically. A look of absolute terror filled his face, and he started calling for you again screaming for help. 

            “No please! Y/N where are you?” Jason started flailing around and you called for Dick to get a sedative since he couldn’t handle being laid down.

            “Jay, honey I’m right here, right here. Joker isn’t here, you’re okay. I’m okay.” You grabbed his cheeks with your hands and pulled his face towards you. To relax him as much as possible ran your thumb over his cheek and pushed the hair in his face out of the way. Jason held your arm as gently as he could, even in as much stress as he was in, and looked at you like you were a lifeline. 

            Dick came over and injected a sedative into Jason’s arm while you were keeping him distracted. Jason shot his eyes over to where he felt a pinch on his arm and started gasping for air like he was dying. It was like he was reliving his death all over again. His eyes shot back to you, and he started crying harder.

            “Please don’t leave me. I’m going to die, please stay with me.” He cried to you.

            “It’s okay Jason, I’m not leaving, I’m right here, you’re okay. Close your eyes and breathe for me Jay.” You ran your fingers through his hair as his labored breathing became less and less abrasive. 

            “Don’t leave me.” Jason’s eyes dropped shut one last time and he went limp on the table. It was quiet in the cave again.

            You didn’t let go of Jason’s face and tears welled in your eyes before you blinked them away and sniffled. Dick was still standing next to Jason monitoring his pulse which was now evening out as much as it could. 

            “Y/N, I’m sorry this happened I-“ Bruce came over to you and laid a hand on your shoulder. His mask was off, and you could tell that he had cried at one point. He was upset seeing Jason reliving everything that he had been through, just as the rest of you were.

            “It’s okay Bruce, it’s not your fault.” You sighed heavily, realizing that your hair was still dripping from your shower, “Where’s Scarecrow now?” 

            “You’re not going after him.” Bruce said, “GCPD has him under tight supervision in Arkham.”

            “He should be in Black Gate and not some mental asylum. He knows what he’s doing.” You said, “And you know his gasses don’t affect me anymore B.” 

            “I know that but-“ You cut Bruce off before he could finish.

            “Besides I promised Jason, I wouldn’t leave him, and I hold fast to my promises.” 

            Bruce nodded, “Tim, Damian, and Cass made sure he didn’t get away. Damian reportedly put Crain in a temporary coma.” 

            “Maybe Crain won’t wake up.” You muttered under your breath as you took Jason’s hands in yours. 

            Tim came inside the cave along with the rest of the heroes. “How’s he doing?” 

            “His vitals have stabilized, we narrowly avoided him going into cardiac arrest.” Dick reported, “we should clean his wounds and get him out of his uniform.” 

            “Antidote hasn’t fully kicked in yet, we need to wait before he’s not under the influence of toxins anymore.” You said, “removing the IV will trigger another attack.” 

            “Someone needs to watch him too. Incase his vitals flip, or he wakes up.” Tim said, “Who takes first shift?” 

            “I’ve got shifts.” You said, “Go hit the hay.”

            “Y/N, you can’t stay here alone.” Dick said, “Someone can stay with you.”

            “That’s fine, but either way, I’m not leaving.” You spoke. 

            “You have to sleep at some point, eat, use the bathroom.” Dick was trying to convince you to get to sleep. He knew that your mission was arduous and had to have taken a toll on you. The League had called you on a mission to help locate and dismantle a group of assassins, like the ones you were trained with as a child, using magic to increase the abilities and reach of the organization. You were the most familiar with the group’s tactics, and the most powerful member in the league to deal with this, so naturally, you were sent. The mission took a mental toll of you because of the similarity it had to your childhood, and you needed the rest to recuperate. 

            “Dick it’s okay. We don’t need two people going manic over nightmares tonight and if I need something; I can literally wave my fingers to make it happen.” You waved your fingers around, creating a blue hued light around them to prove a point.

            Not wanting to continue to argue, Dick subsided and went to hit the showers with everyone else before coming back downstairs to keep you company. He had brought you a blanket and another little pillow, knowing that you wouldn’t get up and leave Jason. 

            A few hours later Jason was dressed into something more comfortable that wasn’t his suit and his wounds were disinfected and stitched where they needed. You had fallen asleep and woken up a few times while keeping watch. A day had passed since Jason’s run in now and you were exhausted. One of the times that you had woken up, you realized that Jason was stirring. You looked at him, watching for signs that he was waking or going back to sleep. Looking at the time, you saw that it was 2:46 AM. The blue light from the Bat Computer lit up the cave gently.

            “Y/N?” Jason called out quietly while moving himself to where he thought you were.

            “Hey Jason.” You said quietly, “I’m right here love.”

            “Did I die?” He asked, searching for an answer in your face.

            “No Jay, you didn’t. You’re right here, you’re okay Jay.” You said, tears starting to well in your eyes again.

            “Don’t cry Y/N.” He lifted his arm and whipped under your eyes, “You know, I didn’t want to see you again like this doll.”

            You let out a small laugh through your nose, smiling a little, “you scared me so much Jay.”

            “I’m sorry Y/N, I never try to. I’m so sorry Y/N/N.” He looked sad very suddenly as he was still watching your every move.

            “It’s okay, it’s not your fault. You were just doing your job.” You gave him a knowing look, “At least I was back in town.” 

            “I missed you.” Jason worked his hand up your arm and sat up to kiss you before groaning in pain.

            “I missed you too, now lay down before you bust your stitches.” You helped him lay back down before nestling your head into your crossed arms on the side of the bed.

            “You know that does not look comfortable at all babe.” He said, starting to coax you onto the Med Bay bed he was laying on, “It’s also cold in here. Are you cold? I’m cold.” 

            “If this is your way of telling me you want me to sleep with you in that cot, you could have just said.” You stood up and helped Jason scoot over a bit.

            The quiet hum of the Bat Cave was the only thing that filled the room, along with the soft beeping of the heart monitor. Jason’s breathing was steady, and you thought he was asleep until he started talking again.

            “Were you here the entire time?” He asked, glancing towards you.

            “I told you I wouldn’t leave you.” You said, “I don’t break my promises with you.”

            “Y/N, you know you didn’t have to.” Jason looked guilty, like he committed a crime in keeping you with him.

            “No, no, I needed to stay with you Jay. I couldn’t leave you alone the way you were. I didn’t want you to wake up alone in this place.” You explained, grabbing onto his hand. 

            “I would have found you.” He said softly.

            “That’s the problem. You would have hurt yourself while going looking.” You smirked some, laughing to yourself slightly. 

            “I can’t argue with that.” 

            “How was your mission?” He asked rubbing circles in your palm.

            “It was… a lot.” You sighed, “That was not horrible to relive again at all.”

            There was sarcasm in your voice to hide your hurt when you spoke about the mission. 

            “I know the training you’ve gone through, intense enough that the fear gas doesn’t work on you.” Jason said, “you’ve seen enough that nothing scares you much anymore.”

            “Well, you dear, scared the ever-living life out of me.” You poked his side.

            “I’m sorry.” Jason was endearing and serious now.

            “Jason it’s okay.” You looked at him with intensity, “You did what you had to do. I’m proud of you, not upset with you.” “I love you, Jay.”

            “I love you Y/N.” he said with a softness. 

            Silence drifted over the two of you, and eventually, you were confident enough to fall asleep when Jason had finally drifted asleep. In the morning, you’d worry about sorting out affairs and making sure Jason was alright so that you could go get a good shower after your mission. 

[saythenametotheworld]

Foolish One | h.rj

A chance encounter with Renjun at the campus library turns into late-night study sessions and stolen moments. He's everything you're looking for—thoughtful, kind, intelligent. But is this the start of something real, or just a story you’re telling yourself?

ONE | two | three | four | five

Genre: crush-at-first-sight, college AU Pairing: Huang Renjun x afab!Reader Warnings: mature themes, language, the plot is dragged out a bit lol Notes: 17k words. Part 1 of the Campus Confessions series, but it can be read as a standalone fic. Listening to Foolish One by Taylor Swift. Genuinely, let me know what you guys think of this. I am very open-minded to constructive criticism. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

Playlist: 1 2 3 by NCT DREAM, Risk by Gracie Abrams, Jump Then Fall by Taylor Swift, Foolish One by Taylor Swift

“Wishful thoughts forgot to mention when something's really not right”

The campus library was quieter than you expected for a Tuesday afternoon during exam week, the kind of silence that made your every move feel amplified and noticeable. You were feeling self-conscious, wondering if everyone was noticing you standing awkwardly at the front desk while the librarian refused to check out the book you wanted to borrow. But the embarrassment didn’t bother you as much as the growing panic in your chest. You really needed this book right now so you could do a last minute study before your exam in thirty minutes.

Clutching a notebook against your chest, you gave the librarian a pleading look. “Please? Just this once?”

“I’m sorry, but I really can’t do that without your student ID,” the librarian said, her tone polite but firm. “You know how it works right? We need it for the record.”

You gave a tight smile, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Isn’t there any way to bypass that? I mean, don’t you have librarian privileges, something like that? Please, it would take at least fifteen minutes to get to my apartment for my ID, and another fifteen to come back here.”

The librarian sighed, taking her glasses off and setting it down on her desk. She gave you a stern look. “I know you’re desperate, but I can’t just bend the rules even if I want to. Especially not for a student who’s negligent enough to forget her ID at home when you should be carrying it on your person at all times.”

You were about to protest when a smooth and calm voice spoke from behind you. “Here use mine.”

You turned to see a boy holding out his ID card. Silvery blond hair brushed lightly across his eyes, and his pale skin seemed to glow faintly under the library lights. The thin-framed glasses resting on his nose didn’t hide the sharp clarity in his gaze—calm, observant, and entirely unbothered by the chaos you were exuding. His expression was calm as if lending his card to a stranger was the most natural thing in the world. Somehow, that made you even more flustered.

“Oh,” you said, blinking at him. “That’s really nice of you. Thank you.”

He shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You looked like you’re about to cry.”

Letting out a sheepish laugh, you took the card and handed it to the librarian. “I mean, I was just about to, actually,” you quipped.

It didn’t even take two minutes for the librarian to check out the book. You returned his ID, your gaze catching his name—Huang Renjun—before handing it back.

“Here. And, uh, thanks again.”

“No problem,” he said, smiling before taking his turn to check out his books. “Good luck with your exam.”

“Thanks. You too,” you replied. As he went to talk to the librarian, you stood there for a moment, hesitating, wanting to say more, or to ask him something—anything—but you had stuff to do. The exam wasn’t going to study itself.

You rushed out of the library, muttering his name under your breath and telling yourself not to forget about the cute boy with the silvery blond hair and an ID he didn’t hesitate to lend.

It’s your second semester as a freshman, and so far, you could say you weren’t the type of student to get caught up in the grind of academics. You took up Liberal Arts out of necessity instead of passion. After highschool, you didn’t have a clear-cut direction or dream job in mind, but you knew you had to go to college so you picked something that left the options open, hoping that eventually, you’d figure it out.

When it comes to academics, you do just enough to get by. Your grades are respectable but nothing extraordinary. You’re not taking things for granted—you just didn’t see the point in staying up all night studying or stressing over perfect grades. Even with average grades, as long as you passed, that was good enough for you. While you respected those who worked hard to excel in their academics, you didn’t feel the need to compete with them. You weren’t interested in pushing yourself that far.

Your friends often teased you about it, calling you laid-back or lazy, but they understood. You didn’t need to be at the top of the class to feel content. You just gave enough to get by, balancing school and the rest of your life without too much strain. You figured most people probably felt the same way—just doing enough, hoping things would eventually fall into place.

“How are you feeling?” Karina asked Giselle, her eyes full of concern. The two of them sat beside you on the mat you’d spread out on the grass in the quad.

They were your housemates—your friends, too—living in the big apartment you all shared. You’d met them at the start of the school year, and sharing a space together had made it easy to grow close.

Giselle sighed, leaning her head against your shoulder. “Not any better. I think the medicine’s not doing anything.”

You rubbed her back gently, trying to comfort her. “Just give it some time. If it gets worse, you can rest at home. I’ll make you some healthy soup.”

Giselle raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You can’t cook.”

You laughed, shrugging casually. “How hard can it be? I’m a fast learner.”

Jaemin, who had been sitting across from you, snickered. “Shut up. You can’t even tell the difference between a cucumber and a zucchini.”

You gasped dramatically, scooting away from him, glaring. “You shut up! You used to follow me around like a puppy when we were kids. Stop acting like you’re the smart one.”

Jaemin rolled his eyes. “We were fourteen, not kids.”

You smirked. “Doesn’t change the fact that you followed me around like a lost puppy.”

Jaemin crossed his arms, sighing heavily. “I’m just making things clear because I don’t want to sit here and watch you rewrite the facts in front of your friends. And just for the record, I was lost at the time.”

Karina turned to Giselle. “How does anyone confuse zucchini with cucumber?”

Giselle just shrugged, unimpressed.

You shot them both a look. “In my defense, they look exactly the same!”

The two stared at you, shaking their heads in perfect unison. It was almost comical. “No, they don’t,” Giselle said flatly.

“They really don’t,” Karina agreed.

You were about to fire back when something—or rather, someone—caught your eye. That unmistakable side profile, the silvery hair catching the sunlight just right. “Huang Renjun,” you blurted out, your voice almost dreamy as your gaze followed him.

“Huang who?” Giselle asked, turning to follow your line of sight. Her eyes lit up. “Oh, the guy from the library?”

“Yes!” you gasped, clasping your hands over your mouth like you’d just seen a celebrity. “See? I told you he’s cute.”

“You’re right, he totally is,” Karina chimed in, sharing the same gleeful smile as you and Giselle.

“What’s going on? Who’s that?” Jaemin leaned closer, his curiosity piqued.

You grinned, leaning toward him like you were about to spill the juiciest secret. “He’s the guy who saved my ass yesterday.”

All eyes shifted back to Renjun, who stood by the library talking to a group of students. From this distance, you could see the bright smile on his face as he laughed at something his friend said. He looked so effortlessly friendly, so unbothered—and something about that gave you butterflies.

Giselle nudged your arm, eyes glinting with mischief. “Go say ‘hi’!”

“No way!” you hissed, snapping your head toward her. “He probably doesn’t even remember me.”

You stayed rooted to your spot, feeling your friends’ teasing remarks rain down on you like playful jabs. They nudged and prodded, daring you to make a move, but you could only keep your eyes on Renjun. He lingered outside the library for a few minutes before finally stepping inside, disappearing through the double doors. Before you could think too much, your body moved on autopilot.

“I'll be back,” you mumbled to your friends, brushing off their teasing ‘oooh’s as you hurried across the quad. They exchanged knowing looks, grinning like they’d already won some secret bet, but you ignored them and followed him.  

Inside the library, the cool, quiet air made you pause. You spotted Renjun by the window just as he was sitting down at a vacant desk. Summoning every ounce of courage you had, you approached him.

“Hi,” you said softly, feeling your voice wobble just enough to make you cringe.

Renjun turned, his expression neutral at first before recognition lit up his eyes. “Oh, hey,” he said with a small smile. “What’s up?”  

“I, uh…” You cleared your throat, clutching the book in your hands like it was a lifeline. “I was going to return this today, so I’m gonna have to bother you again with your ID to check it in.” You laughed nervously, hoping the self-deprecation would make up for how awkward you felt.  

Renjun’s smile widened just slightly. “Sure, don’t worry about it. It would’ve been worse if you didn’t.” he teased lightly. Before you could answer, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his own card. “Here.”

“Didn’t want a loaned book to hold your GPA back at the end of the semester, right?” you quipped, taking the card from his hand. Renjun chuckled as he nodded. “I’ll be back in a jiffy,” you added before turning to head to the front desk.

After the book was returned, you skipped over to Renjun’s desk and thanked him for his help. He seemed busy with something, so he just told you you were welcome before returning to his task. Meanwhile, you found yourself lingering. The rational part of your brain was telling you to leave and not push your luck, but the louder part was convincing you to stay.

You spotted a vacant desk next to Renjun’s, so you slid into a seat, pulling out your laptop and the notes for a class paper you were gonna start. The paper wasn’t due until next week, but you needed an excuse—a reason to stay within Renjun’s orbit. So you started typing, glancing at your screen for a few seconds before inevitably stealing a look at him. He was sitting a few tables away, scribbling in a notebook, his expression focused.  He looked extra cute by the window, a soft beam of sunlight catching his hair and his flawless skin as he worked. The way his brows furrowed in concentration, the absentminded way he twirled his pen—it was like he didn’t even realize how distractingly handsome he was. Then again, maybe it was just in your eyes because there was no denying the fact that you were immensely infatuated by him.

You were mid-sentence in your essay when you stole another glance. But he glanced up just as your gaze lingered a second too long. Your eyes darted back to your screen so fast it was a miracle you didn’t get whiplash. Too late, you’d been caught red-handed already. Still, you couldn’t help yourself from doing it again, making sure to be more subtle this time—only to fail at it.

The second time he caught you looking, he held your gaze for a second longer, one eyebrow lifting in silent amusement. By the third or fourth time, he set his pen down, leaned back slightly, and called out softly, “Am I distracting you from your work?”  

You froze, heat rushing to your cheeks. “What? No, I wasn’t—” You fumbled, searching for an excuse. “I was just… looking around. Yes. I’m looking around as I think.”

Renjun chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I see. I thought I had something on my head,” he said, gesturing over his head.  

You huffed, flustered, and busied yourself with your notes, hoping to regain your composure. To your surprise, Renjun didn’t let the moment hang awkwardly. Instead, he asked casually, “What are you working on?”  

“Oh,” you said, grateful for the topic shift. “It’s an essay for a philosophy class.”  

He tilted his head, curious. “Which one?”  

You named the subject, and his expression brightened. “I took that last semester,” he said. “Professor Lee, right?”

“Yeah, that’s her,” you confirmed.

Renjun nodded thoughtfully. ““Well, then you don’t need to worry much. She’s really chill. She’s not the kind of professor who’ll mark you down for having a different opinion, so you can pretty much write how you actually feel about the topic.”  

His words surprised you. “Really?”  

“Really,” he said with a nod. “She actually encourages it. Just make sure you explain your points well. She likes a good argument.”  

You found yourself smiling, his advice easing some of the stress you hadn’t realized you were carrying about the essay. “Thanks. That’s actually very helpful.”  

“No problem.” He picked up his pen again, flashing you one last smile before returning to his notes.  

And just like that, you had one more reason to stay a little longer. You continued writing your paper, making sure you did it well and explained your points clearly. Occasionally, you would glance up at him, grinning to yourself at how attractive he looked when he was focusing. You didn’t need to talk after that. You wanted to, but you couldn’t find the right timing nor the right topic. By the time your phone alarm went off for your next class, you were already halfway through your essay.

Standing up to gather your things, you gave Renjun another glance, debating whether to say goodbye. The idea of walking off without a word felt odd, but you worried a goodbye might seem too eager, too obvious. So you hesitated—just long enough for him to notice.

“Done already?” Renjun asked, tilting his head slightly.

““No! Not yet.” Your response came faster than you intended. “I mean, I have to go to class, so… I’ll finish later.”

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “If you need help with that paper, let me know. Maybe I can offer some pointers.”

The offer caught you off guard, and for a second, all you could do was blink at him.

Renjun seemed to realize how it sounded, and his hand darted up to rub the back of his neck. “Wait, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean it like—uh—it wasn’t supposed to sound—” He let out a nervous chuckle. “That was kind of arrogant, wasn’t it?”

“No! Not at all!” you said quickly, shaking your head with more enthusiasm than you intended. “I mean, I would definitely let you know if I needed help.”

His laughter softened, and he ducked his head slightly, as though embarrassed. “Well, now it sounds like I think I’m a genius or something.”

“Renjun, stop. You’re fine,” you assured him, a smile creeping onto your face. And you meant it. There was something unexpectedly charming about his fumbling attempt to explain himself.

He hesitated, then asked, almost shyly, “What’s your name?”

You blinked again. “Sorry?”

“I just realized… you know my name, but I don’t know yours,” he explained, the tips of his ears noticeably pink.

“Oh!” You told him your name, watching as he repeated it under his breath—not once, but twice, as though memorizing every syllable.

When he looked up at you, his smile was soft, almost boyish. “Nice to meet you. You should get to class before you’re late.”

“Right. Yeah. Um, see you around,” you said, clutching your bag tightly and walking out before you said something embarrassingly incoherent.

As soon as you were out of sight, you let the grin you’d been holding back take over. It was silly, how a few awkward exchanges could make your heart race like this. For the first time in a long while, it felt less like fleeting, hormone-driven infatuation and more like a genuinely innocent crush.

For the next few days, the library became your favorite spot, and it definitely wasn’t just because of your paper. Whether it was morning or late afternoon, you found yourself there, trying to catch glimpses of Renjun. Sometimes he was already settled in when you arrived, headphones on and pen tapping rhythmically against his notebook. Other times, you got there first and watched the door with anticipation.

You made it a point to sit near him whenever you could. If the spot next to him was taken, you’d find a table within view. Eventually, you started interacting a bit more, small moments that shouldn’t have felt significant but somehow they did.

Like the time you dropped your pen and Renjun leaned down to retrieve it, handing it to you with a quiet, “Here you go.” 

His fingers brushed yours briefly, and though it lasted less than a second, it was enough to make your heart skip a beat. Another time, while unpacking your bag, your water bottle rolled off the table. Renjun caught it mid-fall and handed it back with an amused smile. “Careful, your bag is out for sabotage today,” he joked.

You smiled, shaking your head. “Not when you’re here to save the day,” you retorted, feeling proud of your quick and witty response.

Then there was the time you walked past him on your way to the shelves, and he looked up, offering a small nod of acknowledgment. It wasn’t much—just a polite gesture—but it left you grinning like an idiot as you pretended to browse the books, replaying the moment in your head.

One morning, Renjun sneezed, and you instinctively murmured, “Bless you.” He glanced at you, surprised but touched. 

“Thanks,” he said softly, his smile warm enough to make you forget where you were.

Each interaction, however small, only made you more drawn to him. One day, Giselle decided to tag along, claiming she needed to ‘see this Renjun guy’ for herself. The two of you walked into the library, and sure enough, he was already there, engrossed in his notes. Giselle wasted no time making her move, striding right up to him with her trademark confidence.

“Hi! You’re Renjun, right?” she asked, her tone friendly but direct.

Renjun looked up, startled but polite. “Uh, yeah. Do I know you?”

“No, but I think we have a mutual friend. Ningning?”

Renjun’s expression softened at the mention of Ningning, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Oh, yeah, Ningning.”

“How is she? I haven’t seen her since last semester.”

You watched the exchange from a few steps away, nervous and embarrassed at the same time. Giselle was handling the conversation so effortlessly, but you couldn’t help but worry about how this would make you look.

After chatting for a minute, Giselle turned to you and grinned. “Nice to meet you, we’ll leave you to it. Or, actually,” she gestured to the empty seat across from Renjun, “do you mind if we sit here?”

Renjun shook his head. “No. Go ahead.”

Giselle gave you a pointed look as the two of you sat down, clearly proud of herself for setting this up. That day, you ended up sitting with Renjun without needing an excuse. Giselle paved the way with her easy conversation, dropping Ningning’s name enough times to turn the awkward encounter into something comfortable. She only stayed for about twenty minutes before leaving, claiming she had other things to do. 

“Good luck with your paper!” she called out, leaving you alone with Renjun. You chatted a lot more than usual then, and you were giddy and smiling the whole time.

The moment that truly melted you, though, happened on a particularly busy day. The library was unusually crowded, and you could not find a vacant seat. You were about to leave for the day when you spotted a hand waving in the air. It took you a second to realize it was Renjun, beckoning you over to the seat next to him.

The sight made your stomach flutter, sending a wholesome kind of warmth through you. You didn’t even hesitate, smiling as you walked through the maze of desks and sat down next to him. “Hi! This place is full full.”

“I know. It’s not even exam week,” he replied while you were setting your stuff down. Then he gestured to the side of the table where his books were sprawled. “Do you need more space? I can move these.”

“Oh no, it’s fine,” you said quickly, but the gesture made your chest flutter all the same.

It was almost the deadline for your paper, and while you were hoping you could use that as an excuse to sit with him that day, it seemed unnecessary now. Still, you thought it would be best to ask for his help while you were there.

“I’m taking you up on that offer today,” you began, hoping your cheerfulness would mask the nervousness you were feeling.

“Finally,” he quipped back, closing his book as he watched you open your laptop beside him. “I was starting to feel embarrassed about that offer. I was thinking you never really needed help and I was being arrogant.”

“Oh, stop it,” you huffed, toggling to the paper in your device. “Here. Would you mind taking a look at my draft? Just to see if it makes sense?”

Instead of tugging the laptop toward him, as you normally would, Renjun scooted closer, his shoulder brushing against yours as he leaned over your screen. He read it as it was, eyes scanning your words with quiet focus. Probably too focused to even notice you holding your breath beside him, heart racing in your chest at the sudden proximity.

“This is good,” he said after a moment, his voice low and thoughtful. “But here, maybe you could elaborate more on this point. And this—” he gestured to another part, “—is strong, but you could link it back to this statement more clearly.”  

You nodded, though most of his advice went over your head because your brain was too busy short-circuiting over how close he was. The scent of his cologne, the way his lips moved as he explained something you didn’t catch—all of it was impossibly distracting.

When he leaned back, you snapped out of your daze enough to say, “Thanks. That was really helpful.”  

“It’s nothing,” he said, flashing a small smile. “If you need help again, just let me know—so long as it’s something I actually know.”  

And then he added, almost offhandedly, “It’s nice studying with someone.”  

Your heart skipped a beat, and you didn’t hesitate to seize the moment. “Maybe we could be study buddies?” you offered, trying to sound as casual as you could.

Renjun looked at you for a second, then nodded. “You know what? Maybe we should be study buddies.”

Ever since you moved away for college, you’d grown to enjoy three things: first, the independence of doing things on your own time without having to consider family members; second, experiencing a city so different from the hometown where you’d spent most of your life; and lastly, going to parties without a curfew.

These might sound shallow to some people, and honestly, you thought so too. Then again, you’d happily admit that you weren’t a profound kind of girl.  Growing up, you’d always been easy to please—and just as easy to disappoint. You wore your heart on your sleeve, never bothering to bottle up your feelings or hide your opinions. It helped that you were outgoing, the kind of person who cared more about your own well being than having beef with other people, so you never really had to fight anyone.

That being said, you liked to keep your circle small, only making friends with people you like and keeping a civil relationship with everyone else. With your small circle of friends—only Giselle, Karina, and Jaemin—it was easy to just tell them everything about you.

But tonight, even that small circle couldn’t make this party feel less exhausting.

“Girl, you did not come here just to stay invisible in a corner,” Karina sighed, towering over you on the lumpy corner couch while you sipped from a red plastic cup.

“What?” you asked, genuinely puzzled. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, be normal? You’re more fun than this,” she retorted, squeezing herself into the seat next to you. “Don’t make me sound like your mom, but it’s like you’re not even trying tonight. You’re usually the one dragging me into something embarrassing.”

“Yeah, but this is kinda boring, don’t you think?” you said, gesturing vaguely at the chaos around you.

Music blared from the speakers, with strobe lights dancing in the ceilings and the floors all around you. Blending with the music were the sounds of people chatting and laughing animatedly. Students were either drunk or high, dancing in circles or hanging off each other. Even the air felt too heavy, thick with the smell of sweat, booze, and something you were pretty sure wasn’t tobacco.

Karina’s eyes widened like you’d just said something ridiculous. “Boring? This?” she scoffed, throwing her hands up at the lively crowd.

You grinned at her over the rim of your cup. “Just saying.”

She rolled her eyes, but you noticed the corner of her lips twitching like she was trying not to smile. The two of you must have looked ridiculous, crammed onto the tiny couch while the rest of the party swirled around you.

“Where’s Gigi, anyway?” Karina asked, scanning the crowd.

You leaned to the side, spotting Giselle at the bar. She was laughing with a guy who was practically draped over her, his lips close to her ear as he whispered something that made her toss her hair back and giggle.

“She’s having fun,” you said, nodding toward her.

“At least one of us is,” Karina grumbled.

“Hey, I didn’t ask you to sit here and look lonely with me. I was doing a good enough job of it by myself,” you teased, nudging her shoulder.

Before she could retort, Jaemin appeared between the two of you, crouching slightly so he could speak right into your ears. “Long faces at a party? You two are ruining the vibe.”

“Go away,” Karina grumbled, shoving Jaemin’s face with her palm.

Undeterred, Jaemin grabbed her hand, intertwining their fingers with a devilish grin. “I know why you’re sulking. Forget about him; he’s not coming.”

“You little—” Karina tried to yank her hand back, but Jaemin held on, wagging his head as if scolding her.

Turning his attention to you, he asked, “And you? What’s your excuse? Hungry? Sleepy? Time of the month? Which is it?”

“What are you even talking about?” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

Jaemin narrowed his eyes like he’d caught you in a lie. “You do know that it’s weirder to see you idle at a party than when you’re throwing it back on the dance floor, right?”

You shrugged, taking another sip from your cup. “Can’t a girl take a break from all that?”

Karina, finally prying her hand free, leaned back with a smirk. “Shouldn’t you be happy about this? Less activity from her means less work for you.”

Jaemin stood upright like he’d just had a light bulb moment. It was also then that Giselle came bounding over excitedly. “Jeno. Jeno. Jeno,” she chanted, pointing toward the staircase.

Your ears perked up as you followed her gaze. There he was—Lee Jeno—locked in a steamy makeout session with a pretty girl you’d seen around before.

Karina gave you a sidelong glance, her voice cautious. “Are you seeing that right now?”

“I am,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes. “What a fuckboy.”

Giselle raised an eyebrow, nudging your arm. “Yet you still like him, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do,” you admitted with a chuckle. “Him being a fuckboy doesn’t change the fact that he’s hot.”

Karina cringed dramatically. “Your judgment is so questionable.”

Jaemin snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Hold up. What’s going on? Do you have a thing for Lee Jeno too?” When you grinned instead of answering, he groaned, shaking his head. “Just how many crushes do you have, woman?”

Honestly, only two—Jeno and Renjun. But these days, Renjun had the edge. Jeno might’ve been the one who flirted with you last semester, but lately, you couldn’t help but swoon over Renjun’s quieter, more thoughtful charm.

“I like Renjun more,” you confessed. “He’s just the complete opposite of Jeno. I kinda wish he were here. Though I know this isn’t really his scene.”

“Girl, doesn’t it bother you that you like two completely different types of guys at the same time?” Karina asked, genuinely curious.

You scoffed, throwing your hands up in mock exasperation. “Girl, does it matter?”

For a while, you stayed in the corner, sipping your drink and chatting with your friends. But as the minutes ticked by, the infectious energy of the crowd started pulling you in. Soon you were getting up from the couch and joining the thrumming crowd, Karina trailing behind you.

Giselle and Jaemin quickly found their own adventures—Giselle gravitating back toward the bar, her giggles disappearing into the noise, and Jaemin vanishing somewhere toward the dance floor. That left you and Karina sticking close, both of you weaving through the chaos as you searched for the makeshift minibar.

That’s when Donghyuck appeared.

The first thing he did when he saw you was flirt. “Hi, gorgeous. Are you going home with me after this, or should we just skip the formalities and head back to my place now?”

You gave him a deadpan look. “Pass.”

He smirked, completely unfazed. “The bathroom’s closer if my place is too far for you.”

“Isn’t your place Mark Lee’s place?” you shot back. “Hard pass.”

Donghyuck’s grin widened like he’d been waiting for you to say that. “Aw, still sore about getting rejected by Mark?”

“I wasn’t rejected,” you snapped, turning to face him fully. “It was a misunderstanding.”

“Sure it was,” he drawled, leaning in closer. “But lucky for you, Mark’s not coming home tonight. Think of it as a golden opportunity.”

“Dude, she’s just not that into you,” Karina cut in, her tone flat as she rolled her eyes.

Donghyuck turned to her with a theatrical gasp. “I don’t know about that,” he replied, looking back at you and winking playfully.

You felt a chill run down your spine—not the kind caused by fear or disgust, but the kind that made your skin tingle and sent heat between your thighs. It was infuriating how easily Lee Donghyuck could pull that off, and even more infuriating that your body had the nerve to respond.

But you’d sooner gouge your own eyes out than admit that to him. “Go away, Hyuck,” you said, shoving him lightly with your free hand.

He laughed, stepping back just enough to give you space but staying close enough to remain a nuisance. “See you later, then.”

As he walked off, Karina gave you a side-eye. “You’re not hanging out with that guy, are you?”

“No, I’m not,” you lied, taking another sip of your drink and avoiding her gaze.

“Good. That guy is nothing but trouble,” she replied, glancing back at Donghyuck who had now found another girl to bother.

The next morning, you woke up to the sharp ring of your alarm blaring in your ears. Disoriented, you reached out blindly to silence it, only for your hand to slap the cold, hard floor. Floor? You groaned, peeling your cheek off the surface and wincing at the sticky residue clinging to your skin. Why were you on the floor?

Your head pounded mercilessly, a dull ache that only grew worse as you sat up and tried to piece together what had happened the night before. Your phone buzzed on the table, and when you reached for it, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the black screen: mascara smudged, hair in complete disarray, and a faint red mark on your forehead where you must have hit something.

“Crap,” you muttered, staring at the time. You had twenty minutes to make it to your study session with Renjun!

Scrambling to your feet, you almost tripped over your own feet on your way to the bathroom. No matter how tight your schedule was, you must not skip taking a shower before going out today because you stink. So you stepped under the shower head, using cold water on purpose in hopes that the freezing water would jolt you into wakefulness. You scrubbed your face like it would erase the remnants of last night’s chaos.

What even was last night’s chaos?

Snippets of loud music, flashing lights, and Donghyuck’s smirk popped into your mind, but you shoved them aside. You could recall every bit of last night if you tried hard enough, but there was no time to dwell on your questionable life choices. You threw on a hoodie and jeans, grabbed your bag, and sprinted out the door, hair still damp and heart pounding.

When you reached the library, you were breathing hard, and the cold air made your headache even worse. The library was almost deserted. Pulling out your phone, you texted Renjun to let him know you’d made it, only for his reply to make you cringe.

Renjun: Love your enthusiasm, but aren’t you an hour too early? 😀

The realization came with shame: you were way too eager. There was no other way to spin it. You sat down at a random table, trying to blend into the background despite the fact that the library was far from crowded. You spent the next few minutes scrolling through your phone, distracting yourself from the embarrassment you were feeling inside.

Ten minutes later, Renjun walked in, his usual calm demeanor intact. When he spotted you, he smiled and quickened his pace. “Hi,” he greeted, setting his bag down across from you.

“Hi,” you greeted back, moving your bag out of the desk. “Aren’t we supposed to meet later?”

“Yeah, but you’re already here, so might as well,” he replied, shrugging. “This works better for me, actually, since I have errands later.”

“We could always reschedule, you know?” you suggested, though that was far from what you were feeling inside. “And did you rush here? You look out of breath.”

“Ah.” Renjun chuckled as he grabbed his water bottle and took a huge sip. “I didn’t want you to wait too long, so I rushed out,” he said after a drink.

His words caught you off guard. He looked so nonchalant about it, like it wasn’t a big deal, but the thought of him rushing because of you warmed your chest.

From that day on, Renjun always sat with you during your study sessions. It wasn’t something you planned, but it became an unspoken agreement between the two of you, a rhythm that settled into place without either of you needing to say a word.

Small gestures like him offering his pen when yours ran out of ink felt special, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise. It was just convenience, you told yourself, but the way his hand lingered a second too long or the faint smile he’d flash before going back to his notes made it impossible not to wonder.

He’d text you ahead of time if the library was packed, letting you know he’d saved you a seat or that you should just reschedule. You’d thank him, trying to sound casual, but your chest always felt lighter seeing his name light up your screen.

Over time, your study sessions became less about the textbooks and more about getting to know the little things that made Renjun… Renjun. He was a linguistics student who could explain the quirks of syntax or the history of a word with an enthusiasm that made you want to listen, even when you weren’t entirely interested. He liked sci-fi movies—ones with confusing plots and bizarre visuals—and he’d binge them whenever he wasn’t drowning in assignments.

You noticed he had a birthmark on the back of his hand—grayish with a hint of purple, like a bruise that never faded. The first time you commented on it, asking if he’d hurt himself, he chuckled and said, “It’s been there since I was a kid.”

Sometimes, when he was particularly focused, his brows would furrow and his lips would press into a pout that you found annoyingly endearing. You’d have to stop yourself from staring too long, afraid he’d catch you.

Renjun had this habit of quietly humming under his breath while writing notes. It was so soft you almost missed it, but once you noticed, you couldn’t unhear it. When you teased him about it one day, he laughed, embarrassed, but the sound of his laughter stuck with you long after the session ended.

It was in these in-between moments that you realized how much you looked forward to spending time with him—not just as a study buddy, but as someone who made the world feel a little less ordinary.

One afternoon, you caught him sketching in the margins of his notebook while you took notes. His pencil moved with a quiet confidence, tracing lines and curves that turned into an intricate little doodle.

“Is that what you do when you’re bored?” you asked, leaning over to get a better look.

Renjun quickly covered the drawing with his hand, chuckling nervously. “It’s nothing. Just a habit.”

You tilted your head, smiling. “A habit? You’re pretty good.”

He gave you a small smile but didn’t seem convinced by your words.

“I mean it,” you insisted, giving him a sincere look.

He hesitated before glancing down at his notebook. “Thanks,” he said softly, opening his notebook again. “Do you wanna see it?”

“Are you kidding me? Yes!” you giggled, leaning closer to take a look. “I love visual arts. It’s like something I wish I could do but since I don’t have the talent for it, I just settle with appreciating it.”

“Well, I don’t have the talent either. It’s just a hobby,” he replied while you were flipping through the pages of his notebook, admiring the small doodles on the margins.

“You’re too modest,” you chimed, impressed by the effortless beauty of his cute, almost cartoonish art. “I think you’re really good at this.”

Encouraged by your sincerity, he opened up a little. “I liked drawing as a kid. I used to think I’d pursue it as a career, but, you know, priorities. I have a vision of an ideal future which seemed difficult to achieve if I chose art.”

You frowned. “That’s kinda sad.”

He quickly shook his head, his tone light. “I don’t feel that way about it, though. It’s not like I’m completely banned from making art. I’m just putting it on hold for now.”

You watched him closely, noting the way his expression shifted between wistfulness and acceptance. The way he brushed it off so easily tugged at something in you. “Well,” you said after a moment, “for what it’s worth, I think you should keep doing it. Even if it’s just for yourself.”

Renjun looked at you, his lips quirking into a soft smile that lingered a little too long. “Thanks,” he said again, and this time, he sounded like he meant it.

“I think he likes you,” Karina said, sprawled across the couch, hugging a throw pillow with a dreamy grin on her face. “You’ve been spending so much time together lately. I wouldn’t be surprised if he asks you out soon.”

“Agreed,” Giselle added, flipping through a magazine that was clearly not as interesting as this topic. “He really should do it soon.”

You plopped down on the floor with a loud sigh, dramatically draping an arm over your eyes. “You think so?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Jaemin muttered from his spot on the carpet, tossing popcorn into the air and catching it with his mouth. “You’ve barely seen each other outside the library. For all you know, he’s just being nice.”

“Oh, come on,” you shot back, lifting your arm to squint at him. “You don’t see the way he looks at me with this little smile, like…” You mimicked an exaggerated dreamy face.

Karina giggled. “You’re so delusional. It’s cute, though.”

Giselle joined in. “Yeah, the way you’ve been acting lately is straight out of a high school drama. You, of all people, getting excited about study sessions? Who are you?”

“Hey, I’ve always been academically inclined!” you defended, sitting up.

Jaemin snorted. “Cramming at 3 a.m. doesn’t count as ‘academically inclined.’”

You threw a popcorn kernel at him, which he dodged with an annoyingly smug grin. “For your information,” you said, pointing at him with mock indignation, “I’ve been taking notes. Like, actual, color-coded, neat notes. With highlighters.”

“Oh no,” Giselle gasped, feigning horror. “The highlighters! It’s worse than we thought!”

“It’s called being responsible,” you huffed, crossing your arms with a proud smirk.

“It’s called being whipped,” Jaemin corrected, leaning back with a smirk. “You’re not fooling anyone. You’re basically studying because you’re hoping he’ll think you’re smart and fall for you.”

“First of all,” you said, holding up a finger, “Renjun already knows I’m smart.”

Jaemin snorted.

“Second of all,” you continued, ignoring him, “this newfound work ethic has nothing to do with him.”

“Right,” Giselle drawled, shooting Jaemin a look.

“Absolutely nothing,” you repeated with a grin, tossing popcorn into your own mouth.

“Guys, give her a break,” Karina chided softly, though she was grinning playfully too. “Isn’t it good that she’s motivated?”

Giselle snickered, giving you a mischievous side eye. “Anyone would be motivated if they’re being promised some di—”

You cut her off by shoving popcorn in her mouth. “I haven’t been promised anything.”

Giselle chewed her food quickly and started poking your sides. “You’re grinning so hard your face is gonna crack.”

You laughed, playfully swatting her hand away. “I just think it’s nice, okay? To have a study buddy who, like, actually cares if I pass my exams. Unlike some people.” You gave Jaemin a pointed look.

“Hey, I care,” he replied, holding up his hands defensively. “I just don’t think you should fool yourself into thinking it’s anything more than studying.”

Karina laughed. “Don’t listen to him. I think it’s sweet. It’s cute seeing you so motivated, even if it is…” she trailed off, glancing at Giselle.

“Dick-motivated,” she finished bluntly, popping another piece of popcorn into her mouth.

“You’re so gross,” you scoffed, narrowing your eyes at her.

“Hey, I call it like I see it,” Giselle shrugged. 

“I will say this, though, if it’s making you study harder, maybe it’s not the worst thing. We’re freshmen, so you can still pave the way for yourself to graduate with flying colors,” Jaemin added, wiggling his eyebrows. “But you guys need to go out of that library first. Go to the quad for a change. Maybe get coffee together or something.”

“Jaemin,” you said, resting your chin on your hand with an exaggerated pout, “why would I need coffee when Renjun already gives me a caffeine rush by just existing?”

Giselle cackled. “Oh my god, you’re hopeless.”

“Hopelessly in love,” you declared dramatically, flopping back onto the floor with a hand over your heart.

Karina shook her head, laughing. “You’re so embarrassing.”

“You love me anyway.”

Jaemin groaned. “No, seriously. Stop living in your fantasy world and ask him to hang out. Outside. Of. The. Library.”

You peeked up at him with a mischievous grin. “But what if he’s waiting for the perfect moment to confess? What if he’s just as nervous as I am?”

“Then you’re both pathetic,” Giselle deadpanned, though her lips twitched like she was holding back a laugh.

“Don’t worry,” you said with mock seriousness. “When we finally get together, I’ll make sure to invite you to the wedding.”

Giselle and Jaemin groaned again, this time louder. “You’re insufferable when you’re like this,” Jaemin complained.

You just laughed, the giddy, teenage-like crush bubbling over until it spilled out of you in the form of exaggerated dramatics. Maybe your friends were right, and you should try to take things further, but for now, you were perfectly content basking in the joy of it all—even if your friends never let you live it down.

However, it seemed like your friends weren’t the only ones bothered about the slow development in your relationship with Renjun. The universe too, knew that it was time for you to leave the safe confines of the campus library. 

It happened on a late Sunday afternoon. You walked into a café, expecting nothing more than a quiet moment with your usual overpriced latte. But then you spotted him—Renjun. He wore a soft expression that caught the golden light streaming through the window, his face almost glowing as he leaned over a notebook. He was sitting alone with a half-empty cup of coffee by his side, his pencil moving in quick, deliberate strokes.

You knew, logically, that Renjun didn’t spend every waking moment in the library. He had a life outside of it, of course. But seeing him in a place without the endless shelves of books and the soothing silence of the library around felt a little weird, in a good way. There was something oddly intimate about it, like you’d stumbled into a part of his life you had never seen before—and in a way, it really was something you hadn’t seen before. 

You were still rooted to the spot, trying to decide whether to turn around and flee or walk over and say hi, when Renjun glanced up—and noticed you. His eyes widened slightly in surprise before his face broke into a small, easy smile. He lifted a hand in a casual wave, gesturing for you to come over.

Well, so much for running away, you thought to yourself as you waved back. You walked over, trying your best to seem like you weren’t overthinking every step. 

“Hey,” he greeted, his smile widening as he closed his notebook and pushed it aside. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You too,” you replied, hoping your voice sounded light and not as jittery as you felt. You glanced around, pretending to take in the café like it wasn’t the hundredth time you’d been there. “I was just gonna grab some coffee but I didn’t expect to run into you here. No offense but I thought your all-time favorite place is the library.”

Renjun chuckled. “Not really. I like coming here when the library gets too quiet.”

You nodded, though his words sent your mind spiraling. He’d been here all this time, escaping the quiet of the library, while you’d been basking in it, thinking it was your shared haven.

“I see, so you come here often?” you asked, cringing internally at how cliché you sounded.

Renjun nodded. “Not as often as I’d like. I get caught up in schoolwork most of the time. But when I do, this is my go-to spot.”

“Cool,” you replied, though you felt anything but. Your mind was screaming at you to think of something interesting to say but all you could do was nod.

“Do you want to join me?” he asked, gesturing to the chair across from him.

The question caught you off guard, and for a second, you just stared at him like he’d asked you to solve an equation without a calculator—and you sucked at Math!

“Yeah, sure,” you said finally, sliding into the seat. As you settled in, the reality of the situation hit you—this was your chance! No library distractions, no pretense of study sessions. Just you and Renjun, in a cozy café, with nothing but time and the faint buzz of espresso machines between you. And suddenly, your usual crush-induced dramatics didn’t seem so silly anymore.

Renjun had this ability to make the simplest moments feel meaningful. Like when he offered to buy you coffee, even remembering your favorite drink—something you’d mentioned in passing weeks ago. You couldn’t help but wonder if he paid this much attention to everyone or if you were, somehow, different—special, in a way. Maybe you were delusional. Maybe he was just polite. But maybe, just maybe, he actually cared.

The two of you talked about random things as the café buzzed quietly around you—favorite movies, weird study habits, how caffeine was both a blessing and a curse. Renjun listened intently, and just when you thought the conversation might drift into silence, he asked, “Why did you choose your major?”

The question caught you off guard, not because it was invasive but because of how thoughtful it was. It wasn’t something you expected to be asked over coffee. You paused, giving yourself a moment to consider your answer.

“I guess I just fell into it,” you admitted, twirling your straw. “It felt like the safe choice, you know? Like something I couldn’t go wrong with. But sometimes, I wonder if I should’ve picked something else. Something I’m actually passionate about.”

Renjun tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “What would that be? If you could choose anything?”

You hesitated, surprised by his genuine interest. “I don’t know. I’m not really passionate about something in particular.”

“Well, you are interested in something though, right?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.

You shrugged, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze. “I’m interested in a lot of things, just not interested enough to pursue them.”

“Any hobbies?” he asked again, looking genuinely curious. “They said what you do in your free time says a lot about what you’re passionate about. Sometimes you don’t even realize it.”

“I don’t know if the things I do in my free time are considered hobbies.”

“That’s the general description of hobbies, isn’t it?” He chuckled lightly. “Things you do in your free time?”

You smiled sheepishly. “I know. I do have hobbies and I tried looking at them to see which one would be interesting enough to pursue. Couldn’t decide on one. Everything just seems so generic.”

Renjun’s lips quirked into a small smile, and he nodded like he understood. “I think a lot of people feel that way about the things they love. But it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that, so you simply smiled back, warmth blooming in your chest.

When you mentioned that you were on your way to the library to catch up on assignments, Renjun said he’d join you since he had nothing else to do. Your heart flipped at his casual offer, though your mind immediately began spiraling. Did he actually want to spend more time with you, or was it just convenient?

The evening passed in quiet companionship at the library. While you worked on your assignments, Renjun sketched in his notebook, the sound of his pencil scratching faintly against the paper. You stole glances at him, unable to help yourself. There was something peaceful about the way he was so focused, his  hair falling into his eyes as he worked. At some point, you asked to discuss your assignment with him, hoping to get his opinions on your stance.

When it was time to leave, Renjun offered to walk you home. The offer sent your mind reeling again, but before you could respond, Jaemin showed up, his usual smirk firmly in place. “You guys going somewhere?” he drawled, the mischief in his eyes impossible to miss.

You blinked, barely processing his words, because all you could feel was a faint irritation bubbling up. Of course, Jaemin had to show up now, of all times. You trudged toward him with your brows furrowed. And in a low voice, you scolded him. “What are you doing here? You’re ruining my moment!”

“Karina sent me,” he explained, also lowering his voice. He looked irritated too. “She’s going cuckoo. Said you weren’t picking up your phone and it’s past ten o’clock now.”

You stole a glance at Renjun, who was watching the interaction quietly, his expression curious but unreadable. You cleared your throat. “This is Jaemin,” you said reluctantly, gesturing toward him. “He’s a friend.”

“Best friend. We’ve known each other since we were kids,” Jaemin corrected.

You elbowed him in the rib, making him wince in pain. “Teenagers. We’ve known each other since we were teenagers. He’s my mom’s friend’s son.”

Renjun’s gaze shifted to you briefly, as if silently asking for more context. The slight crease in his brow made your stomach flutter, and you felt the need to elaborate. “My roommate Karina made him come check on me.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “And you must be Huang Renjun. I’ve heard so much about you,” he said, offering his hand for a shake.

Renjun took it. “You have?” he asked, his tone polite but clearly surprised.

“Yeah. She’s been talking about—ow!” Before Jaemin could finish, you elbowed him again.

“Thanks for today,” you chimed, smiling brightly at Renjun in an attempt to steer the conversation back to normalcy. “For, you know, the coffee and the help with my assignment.”

Renjun turned to you with an easy smile. “Anytime. Hopefully, I didn’t distract you from it too much.”

“Absolutely not,” you replied, shaking your head.

“That’s good then,” he said with a small nod. “I guess I’ll leave you to it. See you next time?”

The words were casual, but they echoed beautifully in your ears. See you next time? Did he mean that? Like, does he actually want to see you again? Or was it something polite people like him would say? You started overanalyzing right then and there, picking apart his tone, his word choice, the little upward curve of his lips when he said it.

“Yeah. See you next time,” you replied, waving a hand as he gave both of you one last look before exiting the double doors.

Your eyes followed him as he walked away, his silhouette framed by the glow of the library’s lights. It was like your crush had decided to script this scene for maximum drama. You wondered if he’d think about this moment later. Would he replay it in his head the way you would? Probably not.

As soon as the door closed behind Renjun, Jaemin leaned in, pulling you out of your musings. “You’re smiling like a total lovesick fool right now,” he sniggered. “It’s almost painful to watch. Almost.”

Your smile vanished as you shot him a glare, though your cheeks burned. “You’re literally the worst.”

“Maybe. But I’m also the reason Karina’s not hunting you down with a broom, so, you’re welcome.”

You rolled your eyes and started walking toward the exit, Jaemin falling into step beside you. Still, as much as you wanted to be annoyed, your thoughts kept drifting back to Renjun’s soft smile and the way he’d said, See you next time.

Karina and Giselle were at the apartment when you got back. Before Karina could preach about your agreement to let each other know if one of you would come home late, you told them about Renjun and the teasing started immediately. 

“Did he say anything?” Giselle asked, practically bouncing with excitement.

You groaned, dropping onto the couch dramatically. “No, he didn’t say anything. But he wanted to walk me home, kind of.”

“Kind of?” Karina repeated with a laugh.

“He offered, but Jaemin showed up, so it didn’t really count,” you admitted.

“Well, at least he offered,” Giselle pointed out.

“Exactly,” Giselle said. “That’s practically a confession of love in boy language. Men are simple like that.”

“Hey!” Jaemin protested but no one paid any attention.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered at the thought. Maybe they were exaggerating. Or maybe you were just hopelessly, blissfully delusional. Either way, you didn’t mind.

The smell of food greeted you as soon as you stepped out of your bedroom, and your stomach rumbled in approval. Following the aroma, you found Jaemin in the kitchen, busily moving around with your hot pink apron tied over his t-shirt.

“Guys, it’s my favorite person in the whole wide world!” you announced dramatically, taking a seat and marveling at the spread of dishes already on the table.

“Stop lying and eat,” Jaemin scolded, his tone sharp but his eyes amused. He carefully set a steaming clay pot in the center of the table, the savory aroma filling the room.

“Na Jaemin, you’re cooking up a feast!” Giselle exclaimed, appearing in the doorway and eyeing the food hungrily. “What’s the occasion?”

Karina came in last, casually pulling her hair into a bun. “I asked him to cook for us because everything in the fridge was about to go bad.”

“Really?” you asked, your spoonful of fried rice hovering mid-air. “All of it?” Without waiting for an answer, you stuffed the spoon into your mouth, letting out a satisfied hum at the flavor.

“Nearly all of it,” Karina confirmed as she sat down next to Giselle. “We haven’t been cooking much lately. The groceries have been untouched for over a week now.”

“Why do we even bother to buy groceries when all we do is order takeout,” Giselle asked, shrugging.

“Hey, don’t say that. We eat home cooked meals sometimes,” you chided, pouting because you were the cook in the house. “Although, I’ll have to admit, I haven’t been cooking much lately.”

“Good thing you have me,” Jaemin said smugly, wiping his hands on the apron. “Everybody say ‘Thank you, Jaemin.’”

“Thank you, Jaemin,” all three of you obliged.

As everyone dug in, Jaemin leaned back, watching you all enjoy the food with a satisfied expression. The sound of clinking utensils and satisfied hums filled the room, and for a moment, you thought this was just another one of Jaemin’s regular ‘save the kitchen’ moments. But then Jaemin reached into his backpack, slung over the back of a chair, and pulled out a small stack of flyers. 

“Speaking of appreciating my genius,” he began, sliding one to each of you, “the fine arts department is hosting an exhibit this weekend. Photography, paintings, sketches—you name it. You guys should come.”

You glanced down at the flyer. The bold text read ‘Life Imitates Art: NCIT Student Art Exhibit’ accompanied by an artsy photo of a painted skyline.

“Oh, this looks cool!” Giselle said, holding up her flyer.

“Of course it does. My department made it,” Jaemin replied smugly. “And, I know someone who loves art and would definitely appreciate this.”

“Who could it be?” Karina muttered, smiling as she glanced at you.

You rolled your eyes at Jaemin’s theatrics, but you couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling in your chest. Art exhibits were totally your thing, and Jaemin knew it. However, the moment you looked back at the flyer, your thoughts drifted to a certain someone.

Would Renjun enjoy something like this? You remembered how he’d once shown you his drawings, shyly flipping through margins of his notebook filled with sketches and doodles of nature, cartoons, and people.  The idea of walking through the gallery with him, admiring the art and sharing thoughts, made your heart skip a beat.

“Will our photos be there?” Giselle asked, pulling you back to reality. “You’ve taken enough pictures of us to fill a gallery.”

Jaemin snickered. “Nope. Freshmen aren’t allowed to participate.”

“What?” the three of you exclaimed in unison, outraged.

“Unfair,” Giselle muttered. “You’re better than half the juniors I know.”

“Exactly!” Karina added, frowning. “Who decided that rule anyway?”

Jaemin shrugged, unbothered. “Rules are rules. Besides, you think I want to deal with more critiques from professors? Hard pass.”

“That’s so lame,” you chimed in, frowning as well. “Your pictures of us deserve to be up there.”

“Flattery won’t change anything,” Jaemin replied with a grin. “But you will come to the exhibit, right?”

“Of course,” Karina answered immediately.

“Definitely,” Giselle said, nudging you. “Right?”

“Obviously,” you replied with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Do we have to RSVP, or can we just show up?” Karina asked.

“Just show up. But get there early—it’ll be packed,” Jaemin said. Then he turned to you specifically, raising an eyebrow. “And don’t flake.”

“Who, me?” you said, feigning innocence. “I’d never miss a chance to see what the fine arts department cooked up. You know that.”

The conversation continued with Jaemin fielding questions about the exhibit, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how to casually bring it up with Renjun. Would it be weird to invite him? Would he even want to come?

By the time dinner was over, your mind was already racing with possible scenarios. One thing was clear: you needed to find a way to mention the exhibit to Renjun without sounding like you were asking him on a date. Even though that’s exactly what you were hoping for.

Three days later, you wondered how you managed to invite Renjun to the exhibit without fumbling over your words too much. The memory of your awkward phrasing made you cringe slightly every time it replayed in your head, but here you were—standing next to him in the middle of the gallery, surrounded by art.

He seemed genuinely interested in the pieces, his eyes darting from one frame to another with a quiet intensity. Every now and then, he’d point something out—a brushstroke technique in a painting or the composition of a photograph—and you’d nod along, pretending you weren’t hyper-focused on the way his lips curved as he spoke. 

Normally, you’d be more proactive than this. You could talk about art and techniques for days. But at the time, you were more focused on spending the time with him that you could only listen to his thoughts. You offered some of your own comments, but not as much as you would when it was someone else there with you.

The exhibit didn’t lead to anything romantic, as you’d half-hoped. There were no magical moments, no grand gestures, no accidentally brushing hands that sent sparks flying. But somehow, that was okay. You were content just being there with him.

Dinner was a grander affair than the exhibit, to you, at least. It wasn’t anything fancy—just fast food at a brightly lit diner. You sat across from each other, unwrapping burgers and sipping on sodas, talking about this and that.

As you both ate, the conversation drifted to lighter topics—how the exhibit had surprised you both with its variety, how one of the paintings reminded him of a place he’d visited as a kid, and the sheer horror of seeing the price tags on some of the pieces.

“Five thousand dollars for that?” he exclaimed, gesturing vaguely as if the painting were still in front of him.

“Art is subjective,” you replied with a shrug.

Renjun shook his head, biting into a fry. “Subjective or not, I think my two-year-old cousin could’ve done that with finger paints.”

You laughed, nearly choking on your drink. “Okay, now you’re just being mean. But honestly, same.”

After a pause, he leaned forward slightly. “Do you like art? Like genuinely?”

You nodded, pushing your tray aside. “Yeah. I mean, I’m not an expert or anything, but I like looking at it. It’s relaxing, and sometimes it makes you think about stuff in a different way.”

“I see. Art can make people feel feelings.”

“What about you?” you asked, tilting your head cutely. “Do you just doodle on your notebooks or do you, like, genuinely want to pursue it?”

“I like sketching, but I’m more into digital arts,” he admitted, his voice quieter. “Like I said, it’s more of a hobby. I don’t think I’m good enough to call myself an artist or anything.”

“You do digital arts?” you asked, leaning forward with genuine interest. “That’s so cool! I thought you just sketch on the margins because you want your hands to not stop moving.”

Renjun chuckled heartily, looking a little sheepish. “I do like art a lot. And yeah, maybe I doodle on my notes because I don’t know what to do with my hands sometimes.”

“Can I see them?” you said firmly, leaning closer.

He blinked, surprised. “What?”

“Your digital arts. Can I see them?” you asked and Renjun shrugged. “Only if you wanna show them, of course.”

“Maybe,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “If I ever think they’re worth showing.”

The conversation shifted naturally from there. You learned that Renjun liked savory food more than sweets, that he loved sci-fi movies and old-school animation, and that his favorite season was summer because it was warmer.

In return, you told him about your favorite books and the time you’d tried to paint but ended up with more paint on yourself than the canvas.

Renjun’s laugh came easily, and you found yourself wanting to hear it more. “Sounds like you’d be a hit at one of those paint-and-sip nights.”

“Only if the wine is good,” you replied, grinning.

At one point, he pointed at your tray. “You’re not going to finish that?”

You glanced at the fries you’d left untouched. “No, I’m stuffed. Why? You want them?”

“Waste not, want not,” he said, sliding the tray toward himself.

“Do you even like cold fries?”

“Food is food,” he replied simply, popping one into his mouth.

It was such a small thing, but the casual ease of the moment made your heart warm. You wanted to believe this connection, this closeness, was something meaningful—something real.

But doubt crept in, uninvited and persistent. Was this really going anywhere? Renjun was affecting you more than you’d expected—your mood, your energy, even your plans. You were falling so fast, yet he hadn’t even shown you anything to suggest he was on the same page. Every small gesture, every laugh, every lingering glance—you found yourself dissecting them, overthinking, convincing yourself they meant something when they might not.

Would you be okay if the spark you felt wasn’t mutual?

When dinner was over, the two of you stepped outside, only to find it raining. The kind of rain that drenched you in seconds if you stepped out without an umbrella. You both stood under the awning of the restaurant, staring out into the drizzle. The air was cold, and small splashes of water reached your feet, soaking through your shoes.

Renjun stood beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him even in the chilly air. Despite the miserable weather, you didn’t feel annoyed. If anything, the rain seemed to add a certain weight to the moment—a quiet intimacy that made your heart ache in a good way.

You wondered what he was thinking. Was he just as hyper-aware of the proximity between you as you were? Did he feel the way your shoulders nearly brushed every time one of you shifted your weight?

“I didn’t check the forecast,” he murmured, his voice cutting through the rhythmic sound of raindrops hitting the ground. “Guess we’re stuck here for a while.”

You nodded, your hands buried in your pockets. “Yeah. Bummer.”

It was a half-hearted reply, and you hoped he didn’t notice how your voice trembled, not from the cold but from the nervous energy bubbling in your chest.

“What should we do now?” he asked after a moment, turning slightly to look at you.

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to say anything coherent. “No idea,” you mumbled, keeping your gaze firmly on the rain.

Then, without warning, you felt his hands on your shoulders. The touch was light but firm enough to make your heart leap. Before you could even process it, Renjun had pulled you closer, draping his jacket over both your heads.

“Alright,” he said, his tone suddenly full of determination. “We’re making a run for it.”

“What?!” You looked up at him, wide-eyed, half-hidden under the shared shelter of his jacket.

“It’s just rain,” he said with a grin that sent your stomach into a flurry of butterflies. “If we don’t do this, we’ll be stuck here all night.”

You hesitated for a split second, but his enthusiasm was contagious. “Fine,” you relented, unable to suppress a small laugh.

“That’s the spirit,” he said, his smile widening. “Ready?”

“Not really,” you admitted, but before you could overthink it, Renjun tightened his hold on you, and the two of you darted out into the rain.

The world seemed to blur as you ran, your laughter mingling with his as water splashed up around your feet. The jacket did little to shield you, and soon, droplets of rain were sliding down your cheeks and soaking through your clothes. But you didn’t care—not when Renjun was pulling you along, his own laugh ringing like music in your ears.

When you finally reached the bus shed, you stumbled to a halt, breathless and soaked but grinning from ear to ear. Renjun let out a relieved sigh, shaking his wet hair like a puppy, which only made you laugh harder.

“We made it!” he announced, his voice tinged with mock heroics.

“Barely,” you shot back, pushing your damp hair out of your face. “I didn’t know you were the type to do something like that. You’re insane.”

“Insane or genius?” he countered, raising an eyebrow as he leaned against the metal pole of the shed.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress your smile. The rain continued to pour, the sound of it hitting the roof above you creating a soothing rhythm. You both stood there, catching your breath, the moment stretching into something quiet and tender.

“Thank you for today,” Renjun looked at you, his expression softening. “I’m really glad we did this.”

The way he said it made your heart flutter, but before you could dwell on it too long, he added with a teasing grin, “Even if I had to brave the rain for it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Totally worth it, though.”

“Totally,” he agreed, his gaze lingering on you just a little too long.

For a moment, you thought he might say something else—or that you might—but the sound of car horns broke through your silence, and you both turned to watch the busy streets. The road in front of you was alive with motion—cars speeding past, their headlights streaking through the rain-soaked night. Most of the taxis that passed were already occupied, and when Renjun checked the bus schedule on his phone, he sighed. 

“Caught in traffic,” he said, showing you the GPS map with the slow-moving icon of your bus.

“I figured,” you replied, leaning against the metal pole of the waiting shed. But oddly enough, you didn’t mind. Despite being drenched and stranded, you were having fun.

“Well,” he said, giving the jacket a rueful look before glancing at you, “I’d offer you this, but it’s basically a sponge at this point.”

You shook your head, smiling. “It’s fine. We’re already wet. What difference would it make?”

He shrugged, tucking the useless jacket under his arm. “Fair enough.”

The two of you spent the next few minutes chatting about anything and everything—jokes about how your shoes squelched when you moved, your terrible luck with rain, and a particularly embarrassing story Renjun shared about slipping on wet pavement once.

Then your gaze wandered to the poster on the wall of the waiting shed. It was an advertisement for some soft drink, with bright colors and cheerful models smiling down at you. Or at least, they had been cheerful—someone had scribbled on their faces with marker, adding mustaches and angry eyebrows.

You tilted your head, amused. “What are your thoughts on this piece?” you asked, the same way you’d asked him about the artworks in the gallery earlier that day.

Renjun followed your gaze and chuckled. Then he put on a serious face, as if he was seriously thinking about it. “It’s tasteful, yes. Based on the lines, I think the artist made this on the spot. A spontaneous piece. Overall, it’s top-tier art.”

You tilted your head at the poster, humming in disagreement. “I think it’s mid-tier at most.”

“Think you could do better?” he challenged.

“I’m not much of an artist.”

“Well, how about this?” he said, pulling a pen out of his pocket with a mischievous grin.

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s that for?”

“To write,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“Vandalism?”

He shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “They’re probably gonna change those posters soon anyway. Might as well leave our mark.”

You grinned, loving the gleam of mischief in his eyes that was too tempting to resist. “Alright,” you said, taking the pen from his hand.

You leaned toward the poster, careful not to smudge it too much with your damp sleeve, and drew the best fox drawing you could make, unsuccessfully, but you were content with it. Then you wrote in large, messy letters: CUTE LITTLE FOX, INJUN.

“That’s a fox?” Renjun asked, surprised. You nodded with a grin. “Looks more like a wet squirrel.”

“That’s fine. Art is subjective,” you scoffed, handing him the pen. “Your turn.”

He shook his head, laughing. Beneath your writing, he drew a cartoon girl who resembled you, and added: YOU’RE MUCH CUTER THAN THE FOX ^_^

The two of you stepped back to admire your masterpiece, grinning like a couple of kids who’d just gotten away with a prank. “Think it’ll make someone’s day?” you asked.

“Either that or they’ll roll their eyes and wonder what middle schoolers did this,” Renjun replied, pocketing the pen.

When the bus finally pulled up, its headlights cutting through the rain, you both boarded, still laughing. As you climbed the steps, you turned back for a moment and snapped a quick picture of your vandalism.

Renjun noticed and leaned closer to take a look at your screen. “What’s that for?”

“Evidence,” you said with a smirk. “Just in case the poster police comes after us.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile as the two of you found seats near the back of the bus, the sound of rain and the hum of the engine accompanying your ride home.

That weekend, while your friends were out doing their own thing, you were in your bedroom, grinning at your phone. You spent the morning scrolling through the pictures you took with Renjun the day before—zooming into his face and admiring the features you’d grown so fond of in the last few weeks. The picture you took of the graffiti was posted in your stories, and you kept checking who’d seen it, hoping one of them would be Renjun himself.

You wished there was an excuse to go out and meet him, but there wasn’t any. Even if there was a valid excuse, you probably wouldn’t act on it because you were worried about being too obvious. Besides, anything you say to invite him outside would only seem like an eager attempt to see him. So you opted to wait till the next time you can hang out with him.

“It’s still Saturday morning?” you grumbled upon seeing the date and time on your phone. “Has the weekend always been this slow?”

As soon as Monday rolled in, you went to your classes with a bounce in your step, listening intently to the lectures and hoping time passed faster. When it was all over, you skipped to the library knowing Renjun would already be there.

And so it continued. The library was your sanctuary as usual, but after a few more days of hunching over the same cramped desks and flickering fluorescents, you suggested a change of scenery. Renjun wasn’t keen on the idea at first, but you managed to convince him to see the appeal of the wide open space and the green grass of the quad just outside the library.

You would spread a small blanket on the grass, and sprawl there with your books or laptops. There were times when your friends would join you but when they did, you’d spend the time chatting instead of studying, so you limited their participation.

Other times, you opted for the cozy cafe outside the campus,  books spread across the table. That space was more intimate and somehow, private. You would read through notes and discuss theories over coffee and dessert. Sometimes, you’d just be talking about random things.

At a glance, it would seem like you spend every day with him without fail, but that wasn’t the case. You studied together once every two days, for only two to three hours max. But it was enough time to fall harder for Renjun. When you weren’t together, you’d be thinking of him. And when he was right before your eyes, your thoughts would still be filled with him. When you were out doing things you usually did with your friends, you wondered who he was hanging out with, or what he did when he wasn’t buried in books.

One day, Renjun suggested a detour after your study session. “There’s this little bookshop near campus,” he said. “It’s got a good vibe. You’ll like it.”

You followed him through winding streets until you reached a hole-in-the-wall shop with dusty windows and a bell that jingled as you entered. The air smelled like old paper and candles. Renjun drifted toward the art section, his fingers skimming the spines of books.

“Here,” he said, pulling one out and handing it to you. “This one’s good.”

You looked at the title, a collection of essays on creativity. A smile tugged at your lips as you were reminded of the time Renjun complimented a creative essay you once showed him. “Are you trying to inspire me?”

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “The piece you showed me last time was really good. You need to write more of those.”

You hummed, looking around the shop. Your eyes stopped at a shelf of vintage sketchbooks and canvasses. “Well, in that case, you should sketch more,” you told him, beaming as you led him toward said shelf so you could pick one.

Later, back at your apartment, you flipped through the book, pausing on a passage about capturing fleeting moments. You thought of Renjun—his laugh, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the quiet intensity when he was focused on his work. Your chest tightened with both affection and frustration. Just how much longer could you go on without telling him how you felt?

As long as you could, it seemed. The days passed, and the feelings only grew stronger, but Renjun remained blissfully unaware. Sometimes you wondered if he truly didn’t know, or if he was just pretending not to. You’d catch little moments—a smile, a glance—but you dismissed them. Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe you were imagining it all.

You couldn’t bring yourself to make the first move. You were too shy, too scared of risking everything, too afraid that the warmth you thought you saw in his eyes was nothing more than your imagination. If you never confessed, you could never be rejected. And so, you kept quiet. It was easier this way. But even in the silence, you couldn’t stop wondering if he ever thought about you the same way.

And so it goes.

One day, you sprawled out on a blanket beneath the oak tree in the quad. Karina joined you, which was fine because she wasn’t as noisy as Giselle or Jaemin. Renjun was supposed to be studying, but he was sketching in his notebook instead, the soft scratch of pencil against paper the only sound you could hear from him.

You tried to focus on your notes, but your eyes kept drifting to him—how his brow furrowed in concentration, his lips pressed together in that adorable way that made your chest tighten. His focus was so intense, so effortless, and it made you wonder if he even knew how attractive it was.

“What are you drawing?” you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Just something,” Renjun replied, turning the sketchpad slightly toward you. “It’s not finished.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” you said, genuinely impressed by the details of his art. You glanced up at the oak tree, which was clearly the reference for his sketch. “How old do you think this tree is?”

Karina looked up from her tablet, following your gaze. “Probably a few decades old.”

“Seventy-three,” Renjun said, his eyes still on the tree. “They said it was planted by the founder of this school. It’s been here since.”

You smiled, looking back at the tree with new eyes. “Is that why it’s in such a weird spot on the school grounds? I always thought it looked out of place.”

“Hi, Jun!” she said, pulling your attention away. She was pretty, with an effortless kind of grace that immediately made you wonder who she was.

“Hi, Lia,” Renjun greeted back with a smile, and you couldn’t help but measure how much of a smile it was. Was it just friendly, or was there something more?

“Is that a sketchbook?” she asked, leaning down to peek over his shoulder.

“Uh, yeah,” Renjun said, closing it quickly, though not before she caught a glimpse of the pages.

“Wow,” she said, her smile widening. “You’re so talented. I didn’t know you could draw.”

Renjun laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “I can, though I’m not that good at it.”

You felt your jaw clench as she lingered, her gaze fixed on him. It wasn’t subtle—how she twirled her hair, leaned just a little too close, like she was trying to get his attention in the most obvious way. But Renjun seemed oblivious, like it was all just normal.

Beside you, Karina tugged at your sleeve. When you exchanged looks, you saw the same confusion in her eyes.

“Who’s that?” she mouthed, and you could only shrug, your stomach tightening with an unfamiliar knot.

After she left, you tried to play it cool, but Renjun noticed the shift in your mood. “Everything okay?” he asked, tilting his head in that endearing way.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile that felt like a mask. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

It was hard to ignore the knot of frustration that settled in your stomach—jealousy, confusion, possessiveness. The way Lia had leaned in just a little too close, the way she smiled at him like she knew something you didn’t—it made your heart twist. You weren’t oblivious to it. She was clearly a competition. And you hated how much that thought stung.

But then, you reminded yourself: you were in no position to feel frustrated or jealous. You couldn’t expect him to cater to your feelings when you hadn’t done anything to express them. And even if he did know, he didn’t owe you anything. Just because you had feelings for him didn’t mean he was obligated to cater to whatever unspoken expectations you’d built in your head.

And so it goes. You stayed quiet, enjoying his company and hoping he’d one day confirm that he too had feelings for you. That all this time, he’d been keeping it to himself worried that it might ruin your friendship.

“Worried about your hair?” Renjun teased one day, while you were standing outside the cafe under the dull gray sky. It has started drizzling and you were wondering if you could make a run for it.

“No,” you shot back, laughing. “Are you worried about yours?”

“No, but just in case…” He reached into his bag and pulled out a bright yellow umbrella with cartoon characters. “I brought an umbrella.”

You stared at it, then at him. “Did you steal that from your little cousin or something?”

“It’s mine, actually,” he corrected nonchalantly. “I got it yesterday.”

“You’re walking around campus with that?” you snickered.

“Hey, Moomin is cool,” he said, unfazed. He popped the umbrella open. “And it’s functional.”

You giggled. “I’m just teasing you. I think it’s very cute.”

Renjun gave you a deadpan stare. “Ha-ha. Thanks,” he said sarcastically.

The two of you huddled under the umbrella, the sound of rain pattering against it. The closeness made your heart race, and you were hyper-aware of the way his shoulder brushed yours as you walked side by side. By the time you reached the library, your cheeks felt warm despite the chill of the rain.

Inside, you settled at a desk by the window. Renjun started sketching again, and you observed him quietly, wondering how much longer you could keep your feelings bottled up. You didn’t know how much longer you could stand being this close to him and not telling him everything.

You busied yourself with an assignment, racking your brain and going through your notes to come up with the best output. Anything to distract yourself from Renjun. And it worked for a while, until the appearance of a certain someone made it impossible to focus on anything at all.

“Renjun,” Lia said, appearing beside your desk with a hand on his shoulder. “Do you have a minute?”

“What’s up?” Renjun asked, setting his pencil down.

“There’s something I want to tell you.”

“Sure. What is it?”

Lia glanced at you with a glint of embarrassment in her eyes. “Can we talk there?”

“Alright.” Renjun nodded, rising to his feet. He gave you a small smile and a nod before following Lia.

You stayed at the table, your fingers fidgeting with the corner of your notebook. You tried to focus on the notes spread across the table, but your eyes kept darting toward the direction Renjun and Lia had gone. What could they possibly be talking about? A prickle of curiosity crept under your skin, impossible to ignore. The logical part of you insisted it was none of your business. But another part—a louder, restless part—was dying to know.

Your fingers tapped rhythmically against the notebook, and your knee was bouncing uncontrollably under the table. You glanced out at the rain, trying to convince yourself to stay put, to respect their privacy, but your thoughts were spinning out of control. What if she was confessing? What if he said yes?

You shook your head, banishing the thought. You didn’t even know what they were talking about. For all you knew, it could be about something entirely irrelevant to confessions and feelings. Still, your chest tightened at the idea of them sharing something you weren’t a part of. Once again, you tried to focus on your work, but your resolve crumbled with each passing second.

“Fuck this,” you muttered, and before you knew it, your legs were moving, carrying you toward the shelves where they had disappeared. Your heart thudded in your ears as you peeked around the corner. There they were, standing by the window, their voices low.

“I hope this doesn’t make things awkward between us,” Renjun said, his tone warm. “You’re an amazing friend, and I’d hate to lose that.”

“No, not at all,” Lia assured him. “I actually just wanted to get that off my chest. Thanks for being honest.”

You covered your mouth, stopping the gasp that almost escaped your lips. You were right after all. Lia was confessing her feelings for Renjun!

They continued chatting briefly, their tones light and unstrained. You couldn’t hear everything they said, but it was clear there was no animosity. Lia seemed to take it well, laughing softly at something Renjun said before they started walking back.

Panicking, you quickly ducked behind another shelf, snatching a random book. When they passed by, you waited a few more moments before returning to the table. You then sat down across from Renjun, and when he noticed you, he gave you that easy smile that always made your chest flutter.

“Where were you?” he asked, one hand flipping a page in his sketchpad.

“I just grabbed something from there,” you lied, showing him the book you took from the shelf. “Are you done talking?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

Nice, you thought to yourself, smiling. I think I’m good too.

By the time the rain had stopped, you were done with your assignment and Renjun had packed his sketchpad away. These days, he had been drawing a lot, and it made you giddy each time you saw him take out the vintage sketchbook you got for him. Sometimes, you liked to think he was properly practicing his art because of you, but that was just something you told yourself. He didn’t really say or do anything to back it up.

As you glanced out the window, sunlight began to peek through the rain clouds, and you gestured toward it. “Looks like the weather is getting better. Should we head out?”

“Sure,” Renjun said, tucking his pencil into his bag. “We’ve been here long enough.”

The two of you walked side by side, the damp air cool against your skin. Renjun tugged on the sling of his bag, his gaze distant, as though he had something on his mind. You didn’t press him, though you were wondering what was bothering him. It was unusual to see him so conflicted—Renjun, who was always so calm and composed.

You let the silence stretch, looking around the campus grounds. There was nothing you could think of saying, and it didn’t seem like Renjun was in the headspace to talk about anything either. But then he let out a deep sigh, making you glance at him.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, peeking at his face.

“Nothing, just…” he trailed off, his voice low with a hint of uncertainty. “Have you ever had a friend confess their feelings for you?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, maybe? I mean, I think most of the people who confessed to me were my friends at first.”

In your mind, you were wondering if he was asking because of his conversation with Lia earlier.

His lips quirked in a faint smile, though his eyes stayed distant. “Yeah, I figured. It’s just... earlier, Lia said she liked me. Romantically.”

You knew that already. “Okay. What happened?”

“Apparently, she felt that we had a really good connection. She enjoyed hanging out with me and started liking me because I was nice and all that.”

You hummed, urging him to continue.

“It got me thinking, I should probably draw lines with friendship. As flattering as it was to be ‘liked’, I don’t really want to keep unintentionally leading people on,” he continued, tugging your jacket sleeves gently to veer you away from a puddle.

“That’s fine. You can do that,” you told him, your eyes lingering on his hand on your jacket. “But it’s not your fault if people get the wrong idea. There’s nothing wrong with you or your personality. That’s just how you are as a person.”

“You think so?”

You glanced up at him. “Yeah. But I do understand Lia though. It happens to some. Sometimes people catch feelings, even if they know they shouldn’t,” you chuckled, hoping Renjun wouldn’t notice you were literally talking about yourself.

“I don’t know,” he sighed, shrugging. “I wasn’t trying to make her like me like that. I’ve spent way more time with you than with her, but you don’t feel that way for me.”

You froze mid-step, your breath catching in your throat as a jolt of panic engulfed you. Your chest was tightening as if all the air was being sucked out of you. Renjun kept walking ahead, oblivious, until he realized you weren’t beside him

“What are you doing?” he asked and you couldn’t answer him, so you bit your lip nervously.

What should you do? Should you let his assumption slide? Or should you finally be honest and tell him what’s been bugging you all this time? What if you said something you couldn’t take back?

“Is something wrong?” he asked again, reaching for your shoulder.

“I-I…” you stammered, locking eyes with him. His gaze was steady, but your thoughts were a mess. You swallowed hard. “You’re wrong. I do feel that way.”

It was his turn to be stunned. His brows furrowed slightly, and his hand on your shoulder loosened as he looked at you with an unreadable expression. 

“Actually, I have felt that way before we even became friends,” you continued. Your chest tightened further, but there was no turning back now. “It was just a crush at first, but I got to know you and I just fell harder. I have feelings for you, Renjun and I don’t know what to do with it. I just know I had to tell you about it.”

Renjun still didn’t say anything, flustered and confused by your sudden confession. In your mind, you were screaming, hoping you could fast forward and skip this part because it was making you cringe with embarrassment. But you couldn’t back out—not now that you’d spilled everything out.

The two of you continued to stare at each other, seemingly communicating with your eyes but not coming to an understanding. Your mind raced with questions and possibilities, all pointing at Renjun and begging for him to finally say something. Every brain cell in your head was rioting, a chaos that was the complete opposite of the weighted silence stretching between you and Renjun.

And when his hand  slowly slipped away from your shoulder, you held your breath again, bracing yourself for what was about to come.

“I’m so sorry.”

Your heart sank to your stomach, and you released the breath you were holding. Those three words—though short and straightforward—were enough to sum up everything Renjun was about to say. You already knew what it meant, and despite the heavy weight settling on your chest at his words, you somehow hoped he’d surprise you with a plot twist.

“I swear I didn’t have any bad intentions,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I really just wanted to be friends with you. I didn’t realize…” He trailed off, letting out a heavy sigh.

You nodded, even though the words stung. He didn’t need to finish for you to understand. “It’s alright. I understand.”

He sighed your name out, shoulders sagging as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. You smiled, despite the turmoil in your head. It was hard to explain the mess of emotions swirling inside you—hurt, embarrassment, frustration—but you forced it down. You could handle this. You could take it like an adult.

“Renjun, it’s fineee,” you said, your voice a little lighter than you felt. You laughed softly, almost as if to convince yourself. “I said I wanted to tell you about it. I wasn’t asking you to reciprocate or anything.”

He still looked uncertain, his brows furrowed with that familiar concern you could never shake. But you didn’t want to drag this out any longer, didn’t want to let him see how much his words had hit you. It wasn’t his fault.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” you added, giving him a small wave as if to dismiss the whole conversation. “We’re still friends. Nothing’s changed.”

Renjun hesitated for a moment, still looking at you like he wasn’t sure how to handle your response. You could tell he wasn’t completely convinced, and that made you want to reassure him more.

“Really,” you said with a shrug, “I’m fine. Let’s just go. I’m starving. I need to get home and make some food, otherwise I’d be eating takeout again for dinner.”

You both continued down the path, the sound of your footsteps against the wet pavement the only noise between you. Renjun didn’t say anything more, but you could feel his gaze on you, lingering with that worried expression. He was probably still processing everything. You could almost hear him overthinking it in his head, trying to figure out if he had somehow hurt you.

But for now, you were just grateful to keep moving. You had your pride, and you had your space. And for a moment, despite the mess of it all, you felt a small wave of relief.

You said you’d be fine, that nothing would change between you and Renjun. But as the last few days of the semester rolled around, you found yourself doing what any mature, emotionally stable woman would do—avoid him like the plague. You had a perfectly reasonable excuse—last-minute assignments and projects that seemed to always appear every end of semester. You were both swamped with coursework, so really, it wasn’t avoidance; it was just conveniently timed busyness. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

You also told yourself it was just temporary. You’d heal, bounce back, and return to being the friend who could sit across from Renjun without your stomach twisting into knots. After all, you were still friends. Nothing had changed, right?

Wrong. In the quiet moments, when there was nothing to distract you from your thoughts, the truth would play itself on a loop: it had changed. The ache that would creep in your chest was sharp and annoyingly persistent like a bad pop song stuck on repeat. No matter how hard you tried to bury it under denial, it kept rising to the surface, demanding to be felt.

When Renjun texted you, your responses were cheerful, using the same emojis and the same upbeat tone to mask the fact that your heart was broken. You couldn’t tell if he bought it, but since his replies sounded as casual as ever, you figured your performance deserved an Oscar. Or at least a participation trophy for effort.

Your roommates, Karina and Giselle, noticed it. They could tell something was off. You had always been the one who kept things light and bright, the one who filled the room with laughter and jokes. But now, they could see the small cracks. They could hear the silence that replaced your usual chatter, the way you kept to yourself more often. Even your jokes had gone from playful to suspiciously self-deprecating. 

“Girl, you don't look okay. Like, at all!” Giselle had told you once.

“This is fine,” you’d said with a lopsided grin. “I’m just living my sad rom-com arc. All I need now is a montage of me crying in the rain, but the weather isn’t cooperating.”

It was even more obvious to Jaemin, who, instead of teasing you or trying to get under your skin, seemed to have adopted a strategy of quiet support. He didn’t press you to talk, didn’t try to fix things, and—bless him—didn’t say, “I told you so”. You appreciated the space, but you also hated the awkwardness that had replaced his usual antics. You didn’t like it when he walked on eggshells around you, and it only made you feel worse.

“You know you can talk to us, right?” Karina offered again one night, her voice full of concern. “You don’t have to keep it all in.”

“Thanks, but really, I’m fine,” you said, waving her off with a half-hearted laugh. “This is character development. Pain builds personality, or something like that.”

Giselle handed you a tub of ice cream. “Here, have a snack while your character is developing.”

No amount of jokes or distractions could fully numb your heartache. You kept telling yourself you’d get through it, that it would pass, but every time you were alone with your thoughts, the weight settled back onto your chest. You weren’t sure how long you could keep pretending to be okay, but for now, the show had to go on.

Then, by the time spring break was around the corner, the heaviness in your chest had started to lift. It wasn’t gone entirely but it wasn’t as sharp as it had been two weeks ago. You were finding your way back to yourself already. Giselle even pointed it out one evening while you were packing for the trip home.

“Hey, look at you, humming again,” she teased, flopping onto your bed. “I was starting to think Renjun broke you for good.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled at her. “Oh please. He wasn’t even a fling. Being rejected by a crush wouldn’t break me,” you said, folding another shirt into your bag. “Besides, it’s my first spring break. I can’t walk out of this campus brokenhearted.”

“Aha, I see you’ve found your lost vigor for real fun.” Giselle gave you an approving nod, like a coach satisfied with her team’s performance. “Progress. I’ll take it.”

The next day, as you walked across campus for one last errand before heading home, you spotted Renjun. He was walking toward the library, balancing a stack of books in one hand and holding his bag in the other. You hesitated for a moment, instinctively considering walking in the opposite direction, but the impulse passed as quickly as it came.

You reminded yourself you were okay now—or at least getting there. Avoiding him would only keep you stuck, and besides, the two of you were still friends. Nothing had changed. Right?

“Hey,” you called out, jogging up to him.

Renjun turned at the sound of your voice, a small smile forming when he saw you. “Oh, hey! I thought you left already.”

“Not yet. I’m heading out later today,” you said, nodding at the books in his hand. “Still cramming in some last-minute reading?”

“No, I’m returning these,” he said with a chuckle. “What about you? Got big plans for spring break?”

You grinned. “Are you kidding me? Of course, it’s our first one as college students. You?”

He shrugged, trying to keep his tone light. “Just going home. Last night, my mom sent me a whole list of chores waiting for me when I get back.”

You laughed, and for a moment, it felt easy between you two again, like the past few weeks hadn’t happened.

“Are you okay?” he asked suddenly, his tone softening. “Sorry. I’ve been meaning to ask, but I thought it would be wrong to bring it up when we’re not face-to-face.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his question. For a moment, you thought about brushing it off, but you realized you didn’t need to. Not anymore. “I wasn’t,” you admitted with a small smile. “But only for a bit. I’m okay now. Really.”

Renjun studied your face, his expression unreadable, before he nodded. “Good. I’m glad.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, and for once, it wasn’t suffocating. It didn’t feel like something was left unsaid or hanging in the air.

“Well,” he said, shifting his bag on his shoulder, “I should get going. Have fun doing�� whatever it is you do during spring break.”

You rolled your eyes but grinned. “You have fun with your chores too.”

“I don’t know if I will, but I’ll make sure to try,” he replied, chuckling. “Text me if you need anything though, okay? Or if you're bored, I don't know. Just... Feel free to talk to me whenever you want."

“I will,” you promised, waving as you walked away.

As you made your way across campus, you fished your phone out of your pocket, remembering that Karina once told you about a confessions page on X. It was called NCIT Campus Confessions, and after skimming through the posts, you typed in a submission of your own:

To HRJ, Maybe I will finally learn my lesson. -xx

You felt lighter. Maybe not entirely free from the disappointment, but enough to know that you’d be okay. After all, it wouldn’t do to carry heartache with you to a place as vibrant and alive as Aruba.

[To be continued in Wonderland]

[makethatelevenrings]

It’s White and Gold // D. Grayson x f!reader

Requested: yes!

Warnings: insecurity

Summary: You would be stepping out in public as Dick Grayson’s girlfriend for the very first time and you needed something formal to wear. Well, fuck.

Part of assassin!verse but can be read alone

“Well, I think the only reasonable solution here is that I go ask Ivy if she can concoct something that will keep me housebound for a week and we have to cancel the date,” you announced from the other side of the curtain. Stephanie booed as Cassandra tossed a shoe at your feet. You emerged from the thick rayon fabric and sent a half-hearted glare at the three women seated in front of you. You spun in a slow circle, your arms extended at your side to show off the dress Cass had picked out. Barbara glanced up from her phone and scrunched her nose up.

“Nah. Too much sequins. That would be so uncomfortable to eat in,” she declared. You dropped your arms to your sides and grimaced. She was right. The little plastic circles dug into your skin and it would be a bitch and a half to move around in.

“Fuck it. I’m staying home,” you declared.

“Who taught her that word?” Damian sighed as he emerged from the racks. “Right. Todd. I don’t know why I even bothered to ask. May I just say, those sequins are awful.”

“Thank you, tiny Tan France,” Stephanie said. “We get it. It’s a bad dress.”

“Sorry, Steph.” You knew she wasn’t taking the criticism to heart even if she had picked the dress. It was just the first time you would be going on a real date with Dick to some high-end Bludhaven restaurant as both a PR opportunity and as a mission. Rumor had it that a certain politician would be present with one of the largest cartel leaders and Dick needed a chance to bug their dinner and gather intel. 

Which meant that you would be stepping out in public as Dick Grayson’s girlfriend.

Dick Grayson, the son of the Prince of Gotham. The Heartthrob of Bludhaven.

The man who fell asleep into his oatmeal this morning.

“Is it too late for me to fake my death, change my name, and fall off the face of the earth?”

“Been there, done that,” Damian hummed. “Father can’t possibly do even more of that paperwork. It nearly took him out the first time.”

Cass nodded. “No, no. This could work. He ate the last oreos. Go ahead. Fake your death.”

“No one is faking anyone’s death,” Barbara cut in. “Let’s just try a different store.”

You groaned. “This is the fourth store we’ve tried and we have three hours until reservations. I might as well just go in sweats and call it a night.”

Stepping back into the dressing room, you ignored the bickering outside from your entourage and instead focused on stripping off the dress and putting it back on the hanger. It wasn’t your fault you didn’t have any formal wear. You were never assigned jobs where you needed to get dressed up. Your role was always to hide in the shadows, not to be seen. This was the exact opposite of what your training required and it was starting to grate on your nerves. How could you do this?

As if he could sense your frustration, your phone rang from the pile of your belongings tucked on the bench in the dressing room. You picked it up and glanced at the caller ID, a small smile crossing your lips as you swiped your thumb across the screen and answered.

“Hi, Buttercup,” Dick greeted. Warmth suffused through your veins at his soft greeting and you ducked your head as heat rose to your face. Fucking hell, you had at least seventeen confirmed kills under your belt and Richard Grayson made you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Hey,” you replied. “Are you cool with me wearing a bathrobe and slippers to dinner tonight?”

He laughed and you wished desperately that he was here in this tiny dressing room with you. You wanted to feel his hands enclose around your waist, stroke along your skin, and kiss your temple. You wanted to feel the safety he offered. You had four Batlings sitting on the other side of the flimsy curtain and you had years of training, but you never felt as safe as you did when Dick was near.

“Babe, you could wear one of my old shirts and those cute little shorts you wear and I wouldn’t care. I take it shopping isn’t going well?”

“I didn’t realize Damian religiously watches Queer Eye and Drag Race because you would think I’ve committed the most egregious fashion sins with the options I picked.”

He laughed again and then sighed. “I figured it wasn’t going well since you weren’t home yet. Stop stressing yourself out, baby, I can hear you thinking over the phone. Anything you wear is going to look amazing, okay? Just wear whatever makes you comfortable.”

“But the media…”

“Fuck the paparazzi. Fuck them all. Your comfort is more important than a stupid magazine cover.”

You gave up fighting the grin that spread across your face and shook your head. Holding the phone with one hand, you tugged your pants on with the other. “Okay. We’ll try one more store and if I can’t find anything, I’ll come home and figure it out.”

“Good. I miss you, Buttercup.”

“Miss you too, Westley.”

You hung up so you could pull your shirt over your head (it was actually Dick’s shirt that you had stolen but he wasn’t going to argue) and gathered up your wallet and keys. You emerged from the dressing room to join the others and your little gaggle of Batlings led you to another shop at the mall.

“Wait,” you called once your eyes caught on a mannequin in the window of some store. Steph nearly collided with you when you stopped in the middle of walking. The blonde examined the outfit and a crooked grin spread across her face.

“Oh, that’s perfect,” she cooed. “Let’s go try it on.”

Dick kept himself entertained as he waited for you by playing fetch with Haley. Cass and Steph had practically shoved you into the apartment with a bag clutched in your hand, waved at Dick, and disappeared as you darted towards the bedroom before he could say anything. He was glad he already changed into his tux because the clock was inching closer to your reservation time.

The bedroom door creaked with its aged hinges but it was enough to catch his attention. Dick raised his head and promptly lost all ability to breathe, think, and speak. You offered him a shy smile and ran your hands over the soft fabric that clung to your body. A thick strap rested over one shoulder, leaving your neck and arms exposed, and pulled taut across your chest. You had forgone a dress, but the jumpsuit was still formal enough for the restaurant you were attending.

And it was Nightwing blue.

“How does it look?” you asked, your voice quiet with apprehension. Dick sucked in a big gulp of air and he dropped the ball in his hand, sending Haley scrabbling across the wood in pursuit. He rose and crossed the room to stand before you. His hands rose to hover over your hips as his eyes raked over every inch of your body.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. His hands finally came down to settle on your waist and then drifted down to cup the back of your thighs, pulling you into his chest. You laughed at his desperation and eagerness.

“Is that a knife strapped to your thigh?” he murmured against your lips. You fixed the lapels of his suit and smoothed them down, a mischievous smile taking hold of your face.

“Ready to go to work, Mr. Grayson?” you teased.

“I owe Steph my life,” he groaned.

Tag List: @someoneimsure​ @perpetual-fangirl900​ @visagebrise​ @cursedandromedablack​ @alexxavicry​ @the-wayward-daughter​ @raging-trash-of-mind​ @bunny-kawa​ @khaylin27​

[beiasluv]

hey!! i was thinking maybe a neteyam x y/n where he keeps finding her in compromising situations with aonung or another guy? obviously just misunderstandings but id like to see him jealous, yk maybe sad (not saying anything to her, moping, etc) until he kind of explotes…😁up to you, thanks x

jealous neteyam

a/n: YASS, feel free to cancel me because I love jealous trope. anyways, guys, communication is the key to relationships but this is just for entertainment purposes / enjoy🤍

masterlist

of all the times that neteyam sees you, it always has to be the worst time possible.

falling on top of ao’nung? checked. patching his face up? checked. him stabling you by your waist? checked. the list just goes on and on

“oh my goodness, i- i am so sorry, let me help you,” you fell upon the teal metkayina, face landing on his chest.

“um- sorry,” he pushed himself off the ground reaching for your waist by his hands.

of course, he didn’t think anything of it, until it started reoccurring many times

what about the time when you were straddling a metkayina boy on his lap? isn’t that obvious?

how about when you swam off into the ocean with him? he felt his heart shattered into a million pieces right at the beach.

if that’s not enough, what about the time when he heard your heavenly voices with another guy in the marui. he knew what those voices were about, he wasn’t born yesterday

unfortunately to you, neteyam started acting differently

he seemed to distance himself…? it’s weird how he doesn’t sit next to you while eating anymore…or, or what about him not cuddling before bedtime?

it broke your heart, what have you done wrong? so you took matters in your hand

“nete, love, you okay?” your soft hand reached for his chin.

“yes, i am fine, i am going to bed, night,” and without a look towards your direction, the lights flickered off.

he stopped hugging you, hell, he even stopped kissing you

but he’ll never miss a chance to show his dominance while other people are around. will definitely snake an arm around your waist.

that’s the only time you’ve ever felt his warmth in many months

the only time he’ll talk to you is when there’s other guy around

“excuse us, we have something planned today, let’s go, y/n,” he grabbed your hand and left the confused metkayina alone.

of course, there wasn’t a word spilled during the walk back to your marui. he didn’t even took an effort to look you in the eyes, don’t even expect a word from his mouth.

at the marui is all the same, he left you alone, in your shared bed, consumed by your thoughts

and this pain just need another thorn to make it worst

“pl- please, y/n, stop,” a new voice rung though his twitching ears

“hold still, it will hurt a little,” a familiar tune hit his ears.

“plea- please, make it quick”

you yearn for his touch everyday, and as if faith wasn’t on your sad, he distanced himself day by day

his eyes doesn’t sparkle like it used to, his touch doesn’t spark against your skin like it used to.

he always come home late with those darkened under eyes. did he stayed with his brother to escape the pain with you?

you see every time he sighed to himself while taking to you. is he bored of you?

how can he leave you? after all the things you’ve been through together? of course, he would leave you, right…?

he stopped holding your hand, stopped holding your waist, no more intertwining tails.

what about the vows you’ve made? did they mattered after all?

you tired your best to fill this love everyday, but it’s draining you to fill it by yourself

“love you, neteyam, stay safe,” you kissed his cheek as he pulled away quickly.

“love you too,” he said quietly.

“say it like you mean it”

“what?”

“say it like you really mean it, i know you don’t love me anymore,” you fought back the tears in your eyes.

“how do you know i don’t love you?!”

“because you’ve been acting like one big prick!” a year fell down your cheek. “i don’t even know if you want me anymore, you wanted to unmate me, right?” you’ve met with a silence in his face, and your heart dropped a thousand miles.

“so i am right, huh?” “you wanted to unmate me?”

“NO, NOT NOW, NOT EVER I WANTED THAT, YOU ARE THE WRONG IN THIS!”

“THEN WHAT HAVE I DONE TO MAKE YOU HEARTLESS LIKE THIS? this is not the man I’ve mated with under eywa that night!”

“DO NOT THINK I AM STUPID, I SAW YOU WITH AO’NUNG AND OTHER GUYS, THE WAY YOU GUYS ARE LOOKING AT EACH OTHER, THE GAMES YOU GUYS ARE PLAYING BEHIND MY BACK!”

“wh- what are you talking about?” a whimper escaped your lips.

“do not act innocent, you are cheating on my behind my back!” he cried and gripped his arm so tight that it formed a bruise on his arms.

“i have never! i would never do something like that”

“then why do i keep seeing you on top of him, on him, and your voices while you are doing the deed with him?”

“what deed?” you whimpered, his hands punching the wall, sending a tremble down your spine. “yo- you must have misunderstood the situation”

“oh, have i?”

“i fell on top of him, and i offered to patch up his wounds for him,” you realized how stupid you guys were.

“what?”

“you thought i was having sex with him? how dare you, i don’t even think his teal skins are as beautiful as yours,” you held him in your embrace.

“w- what? i am such a prick,” he punched himself in the face.

“no, no, no, stop, please,” his hands find their comfort in yours

“i am so stupid! i am the worst mate you could ever ask for!”

“you are the only mate i ever have”

“please, please, please…forgive me…”

and the rest was history 🥺

neteyam is the sweetest thing you can ever have but don’t ever make him misunderstand things again, because is he sad SAD

love ya’ll take care of yourselves 🤍 go touch some grass 😳

@rosaryos / @bumblinbumblvee / @nyotamalfoy / @fangirl-2610 / @astablacksword / @lokisblueskin

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 3

Hello! I was going to post this yesterday but I thought I would be busier for WIP Wednesday which only two people participated in (sad author noises). And then I was waffling about putting up a meta about Steve’s parents (I ended up just saving it in my ‘bit of everything’ file). And then I realized it was super late and should put this up before I forget again.

This next part is for @weirdandabsurd42  who mentioned being excited to see Wayne and was thusly added (because I almost forgot to put him there, oops!), thereby creating one of my favorite lines I’ve ever written so...thanks! 

Part 1 Part 2

***

Steve closed up his shop with a spring in his step and a grumpy Robin following behind.

“I can’t believe you are dragging me to a metal concert,” she groused as she locked the door behind her.

“You don’t have to come,” Steve said with a grin. “You can stay home on a Saturday, all by yourself with a pint of ice cream and the latest rom-com.”

Robin glared at him. “You know that I have to come with you so you don’t throw yourself at Eddie.”

Steve rolled his eyes as they walked to his car. “I’m not going to throw myself at him.”

Robin clutched her hands to her chest. “Oh that’s right I forgot! You already have!”

Steve glared at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” she asked, sliding into the car. “So what do you call offering to do his back tattoo?”

Steve already in the car, hit his head on his steering wheel. “Fucccckkkk.” He hit it over and over. “Why did I do that? Why did he agree? What am I going to do?”

Robin rubbed his back. “I think this is good thing for you. If you do well on his wings then you can start doing large pieces again. And if not, then you know it’s not something you can do and you’ll never do another one ever again.”

Steve sighed and wrapped his arms around the steering wheel. “I just wanted him to like me.”

“As person, as friend or as a boyfriend?” Robin asked seriously.

“All of the above?” Steve said raising his head to look at her. “Apparently the first one has been met. I’d take the second one, but I would love the last one more than anything.”

“Well this weekend will be a great opportunity to test the waters and see how he feels. Because even if he wants to be friends now, there’s still a chance he might want something more in the future. Just don’t bank on it.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “Yeah, okay.” He turned the key and pulled out of their parking lot.

“This would be a good time to get a couple of apprentices of your own,” she said after a few miles of silence. “You’re going to be spending a lot of hours on Eddie’s tattoo and you’re going to need someone to pick up the slack.”

Steve let out a shuddering sigh. “I know. I’ll start putting out feelers in the community and see what’s out there.”

Robin nodded. “We’ll put up filers at the local colleges and universities as well as putting it up on our website. I’ll talk to Will and see what he can come up with for both.”

“I know he’ll turn it down but offer him the usual rates for that sort of thing,” Steve agreed.

Robin laughed. “Fingers crossed he’ll accept this time.”

*

Eddie walked into his apartment and flopped face first into his couch. It had been such a whirlwind day. He wasn’t even sure he could function. That really was the downside to having a full time gig. Having all this free time.

Because yeah, Eddie and the rest of Corroded Coffin practiced nearly every day, and they were always coming up with new music, it just wasn’t the same as full time job. He didn’t have to do anything but show up and perform two nights a week. He could phone it in if he wanted.

Not that he would. Just...that he could. Which meant on days when his head was spiraling he could stew for days and never leave this couch.

He rolled over and pulled out his phone and dialed that familiar number.

“Munson residence!” came the gruff familiar voice.

“When are you going to at least get a caller ID, old man!” Eddie crowed.

“Shut it, boy,” Wayne growled. “I have one and it works just fine, the greeting is polite. Something I thought I raised you better in.”

Eddie giggled. “You love me.”

“Lord help me, but I do,” Wayne agreed. “You calling to talk or to listen?”

It was something that they had established long before Eddie left Hawkins to live on his own in the big city. Long before before Eddie took three years to graduate. Long before Al Munson abandoned his son on his baby brother’s door step for one last job. A job that would land him in prison. They had this code. Well, not really a code.

Just this thing between them. When Eddie had a rough day, he would call Wayne. But depending on the swirling of emotions going through his head, sometimes he just need to hear Wayne talk about his day. Gossip about his neighbors. Let the words flow over him until he felt at ease enough to go to sleep.

Other nights, though. The really bad ones. The ones where Eddie needed advice, he would talk. Sometimes Eddie would figure it out on his own, other times he would need Wayne to give him advice. This was one of those nights.

“Talk,” Eddie breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Wha’cha got, Ed?” Wayne asked gently.

And Eddie just let it all spill out. The tattoos, Steve, the band, feeling like they had stagnated.

“That’s a lot on your plate, boy,” Wayne said. “I can see why you wanted to share.”

Eddie let out a shuddering sigh. “I don’t know what to do about...well any of it to be honest.”

Wayne hummed. “When was the last time you went out and did something fun? Something for just yourself? And don’t say get a tattoo because that’s part of the tangled mess right now.”

Eddie blinked. When was the last time he had gone out for drinks, saw a movie, or even listened to music other than his own? “I’m not sure.”

“Well there you go,” Wayne said. “Creativity isn’t endless, boy. It’s a well and you’re going through a drought because you aren’t taking in any influences other then that feedback loop you’re on.”

“Oh.”

“It doesn’t have to be with your friends or even that boy you’ve got your eye on,” Wayne explained. “Just go out and have fun for yourself, ya hear?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, already feeling lighter. “Thanks, Uncle Wayne.”

“Rest well, okay?” Wayne murmured.

“You too.”

*

Jeff shook his head and rolled his eyes as he watched Eddie play with his rings, his knee bouncing up and down.

“Chill!” Gareth growled. “For fuck’s sake. We are professionals, we’ve done this twice a week for years. What’s got your panties in a twist this time?”

Jeff wagged his eyebrows. “This time pretty boy Steve Harrington is going to be in the crowd. With a girl no less.”

“She’s gay,” Eddie bit out. “A literal flaming lesbian. I just have to pass the best friend test with her. And considering she wanted me to get his number, I’m pretty sure I don’t have to work that hard.”

“I noticed you didn’t deny that you’re nervous about Pretty Boy being in the audience tonight,” Brian teased.

Eddie threw up his hands in the air and leapt to his feet. “All right, yeah. I’m nervous. Even when I did have boyfriends that would show up, I knew they liked the music. But I have no idea if Steve is just being nice or if he’s actually interested in hearing us play.”

Jeff cocked his head. “Yeah, I can see how you might be worried he won’t like it. But if he doesn’t, isn’t better you know that now, before your feelings get in too deep?”

Eddie’s lip quivered. “Yes. I mean, of course. But it still makes me feel like crawling out of my skin, okay?”

“Okay,” Gareth said. “So do what you do best and throw yourself into the music. Let it wash over you. You are a consummate performer. So kick ass.”

Eddie nodded and the nod slowly turned into a head bang with him playing air guitar. By the time the knock came to let them know it was time, Eddie was ready to go out there and rock.

*

Steve hadn’t been to The Nightmare Holes before. It hadn’t even been on his radar at all. That was so weird, especially since it was almost literally doors down from Robin and his favorite club.

Well that was until they were dropped off in front of a large concrete building that didn’t look like a bar from the outside at any stretch of the imagination. In fact the only thing that stuck out at all was a neon sign with a large arrow pointing to a set of stairs leading down proclaiming this to be The Nightmare Holes.

When they got into the bar, Steve realized that they were going to stick out like a sore thumb. With Steve looking prep and Robin looking punk, they were going to be murdered before Eddie even got on stage.

They were saved by a goddess if you believed Robin later. This pretty woman in a tank top and tight leather pants with four inch heeled boots came up to them.

“Hey!” she greeted warmly. “You must be Stevie, right?”

Steve nodded. “I’m afraid you’re one up on me. You know me, but I don’t know you.”

She smiled much to Robin’s chagrin. “I’m Miranda, girlfriend of the rhythm guitarist, Jeff Lawrence. He was worried that Eddie might have forgotten to tell you that wearing your usual clothes might make you stand out.” She waved her hands at them. Both Robin and Steve blushed. “You aren’t too bad actually. I was think you would be much worse the way Jeff was going on.”

“He only saw us at work,” Robin explained once she picked her jaw up off the ground. “He might have assumed that we wear that on the regular.”

Miranda nodded. “You can do this one of two ways. Stay dressed as you are as big middle finger to conformity no matter who’s conforming to what or you come with me and I can tweak your looks enough that you don’t stand out as much.”

Steve looked down at his clothes and tilted his head. “I think I’m going to give conformity the middle finger, thanks. I’ve been bucking what people think a tattoo artist should look like for years. I’m not going to change that for one little concert.”

Miranda nodded appreciatively. “Good on you. How about you, princess? You gonna give conformity the middle finger, too?”

Robin looked down at her clothes and blushed. “I think most metalheads would say a punk is being a step too far.”

Miranda laughed. “You’re probably right. Let’s go see if I can metal you up a bit.”

The two ladies came back a few minutes later. Robin still had her chunky jewelry and smudged makeup. But her billowy plaid pants were replaced by tight black jeans and instead of her vest, she wore a black jacket. Her hair had been tamed to a more relaxed style.

Steve grinned at her. “Looking good, Robs!”

Robin blushed. “I made a new friend.”

Miranda laughed. “Thanks for that.” She looked around and then leaned forward conspiratorially. “Just a little secret between us new besties.”

Steve and Robin shared a glance, but both nodded.

“I don’t like metal music, either,” she whispered and winked. She turned around so she faced the stage. “But I’m here because my Jeffie does. So if you don’t like the music, because hey, you might not, don’t sweat it. They put on a good show and we’re here for them.” She jutted her chin up at the stage just as the house lights went down and the stage lights went up.

Standing the spotlight was Eddie. He wore a slashed up band shirt, tight jeans, and his leather jacket. A jacket Steve was about to learn wasn’t going to feature long. About twenty minutes into the show, the jacket was gone and Steve could see a peek of the new tattoo through the slits in the shirt.

He licked his lips slowly. Ooh...that was tantalizing. And then Eddie threw caution and his shirt to the wind and everyone saw Eddie’s new tattoo.

Robin turned to Steve wide-eyed. “Holy shit, it blends seamlessly into the rest of the tattoos, like it was there first.”

Miranda peered around Robin to look at Steve, too. “Yeah, man. You did a hell of a job. You should be proud of that.”

Steve was. No doubt. But he was prouder of the fact that Eddie wanted everyone to see it. It melted his heart and settled at the base of his spine, like he had drank a cup of hot chocolate all at once.

And that was when Steve realized he would do anything for Eddie. Even if that meant just being friends.

***

My new favorite line? * “Lord help me, but I do,” Wayne agreed. “You calling to talk or to listen?” * It’s just so...Wayne, you know?

Part 4  Part 5 Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11 Part 12  Part 13 Part 14  Part 15  Part 16 Part 17  Part 18 Part 19  Part 20  Part 21 Part 22  Part 23  Part 24  Part 25 Part 26  Part 27  Part 28  Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666  @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @aizawa-emma  @yikes-a-bee @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @archermightbegay @hallucinatedjosten 

[ifimdreaming]

Any chance you could write some fluff about taking care of Matthew Knies after his concussion?

blurb!

you're supposed to be resting

matthew knies x reader || fluff

summary: basically eaxctly was was requested, and matthew is very stubborn

author's note: im so sorry this took so long! ive been super busy lately

word count: 1k

-

you didn't even have to open the front door before you could hear the sound of the tv playing, you knew matthew was watching the leafs play. Having supposed to be essentially on bed rest after his concussion, it infuriated you to know he wasn't taking it completely seriously.

You told him you werent coming over until later so you knew he wasnt expecting you, but you couldnt stand knowing he was home alone, probably not taking care of himself like he should be

You open the door and see matt click the tv off immediately. He looks over at you with a knowing look and you shake your head back at him. After closing the door behind you, you kick your shoes off and head to the kitchen to put away the food you bought for the weekend. 

“Hi baby, you're here early…” matthew says finally 

“What are you doing?” you ask, seeing as he is sitting on the couch with no tv on

“Im…uh” he starts, “don't lie.” you say, breaking him

“Fine, I turned the game on. But I swear I was only going to watch for a minute. It was killing me.” 

You roll your eyes and head over to sit beside him on the couch. You knew it killed him not to be able to play tonight, let alone attend the game. But he was under strict rules not to watch any screens or devices, as to not worsen his concussion. 

“I know matty” you say as you sit right next to your boyfriend, cuddling into his side and lifting your legs to rest bent on his lap. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you tighter and resting his hand on your butt

“How about i distract you” you suggest, knowing it would eat him alive anyway, just listening to the game and not being able to watch

“Hm. i like that idea” he says, leaning his head back against the couch and closing his eyes tightly. You could tell the brightness of the room was irritating him

“Hey! how bout we go upstairs and cuddle, yeah?” you knew if you suggested he lay down in a dark room without you he would not be very happy about that. He hated this recovery period, so honestly the most effective method in helping him recover was treating him like a little kid and making things sound like the best idea ever. 

“Id love that” he says, lifting you up with him bridal style as he stands up from the couch and starts heading towards the stairs. 

“Wait! Pit stop!” you say pointing towards the kitchen and he turns on his heels

“On it” he says, obeying your demands as he carries you towards the kitchen

“Freezer please!” you say and he heads towards the freezer door. You open it and pull out an ice pack for his head. Matthew rolls his eyes, knowing you were slightly tricking him into getting the ice for himself

“Ok lets go bud.” you say sharply as you pat his chest, not giving him any time to complain 

you place the ice pack at the back of matts neck, holding it there as you head upstairs. When you reach the bedroom you swiftly turn the light off as you pass by the door, making sure the room is perfect in aiding matthews injury.

“I know what you're doing you know” matt says as he places you down on the bed

“What? Coming over to cuddle with you?” 

“Mm more like coming over to take care of me?” he says, mocking your voice and making you crack a smile. He sits beside you in the dark room as you lie in his bed, and wait for him to join you

“Well you were literally doing everything you shouldn't be doing when i walked in sooo…”

“I've been lying down all day long!” he says exasperatedly, knowing you're right 

“Well I'm here now. and I want to cuddle. So we're gonna lie down some more mkay?” you say sassily as you reach in front of you, trying to find him in the dark. You find his chest and pull him towards you by his shirt, urging him to give in to you

Matthew took this as an opportunity to place a kiss on your lips, catching you off guard. After a moment, you lean into the kiss and matthew scoots closer to you, closing the space that was between you both

Matthew passionately grabs you by the waist as he leans over your body, kissing down your neck, making his way to your chest

You pull his face up to yours and he fights to bring it down again

“Matty!” you whine and he continues kissing you cheeks after leaving bruises on your neck

“You're supposed to be resting.” you say with a laugh and he sits up on his elbows, hovering over you, and you can just tell there is a smirk on his face. 

He places a gentle kiss on your lips, ignoring your previous statement. 

“This is not resting” you say as you press your pointer finger to his lips and you can feel his smirk grow against your finger. You're trying really hard not to sound like a babysitter, but are still trying to look out for him

“Ok fine” he sighs out as he collapses beside you. With his body off of yours, you take this as an opportunity to reach down to the end of the bed and find the ice pack that was left there, swiftly placing it behind his head.

Without a word he turns his head to look at you with squinted eyes. Even in the dark, you can just see the annoyance plastered all over his face. You hold in a laugh as you adjust his pillow, continuing to care for your injured boyfriend. 

He helps you adjust the sheets as you both get undr the covers. Regardless of his feigned annoyance, you knew matthew did appreciate you and what you were doing for him. 

“Ok ok ok” Matthew says, stopping you as you are still adjusting his ice pack. he pulls you in beside him and you immediately place a hand under his shirt, moving your hand up and down his chest. Something you always did to comfort him.

 He begins placing kisses to the top of your head as you cuddle in beside him, relaxing completely under his touch

-

-

[the1975attheirverybest]

need this matty specifically to rail me to within an inch of my life in that bathtub behind him (minus the socks around it lmaooo) (also no i did not send this ask, you’re wrong)

if it were you who’d sent this ask id check in and ask if you’re okay. But I suppose you are cuz who wouldn’t wanna be railed in a bathtub by this guy?

it’s a shame it’s not you, though….cuz I’ve got some thoughts. They’re unhinged and unrealistic. Do not try this at home kids cuz I suspect it would be cold. But anyways….

Matty heard the sound of her heels as she walked into the bathroom and looked up at the mirror, smiling as her reflection appeared behind him. “You’re not ready yet?” She chastised. “We’re going to be late, you know.”

Matty looked down at himself, then back at her, “what do you mean I’m not ready? I am. Don’t l look good?” He ran a hand through his hair, scrutinizing the grey streak at the front of his hair. “oh, that’s what you’re wearing?” he grinned, “is it not enough?” He glanced at the counter full of products and accessories and then smiled, putting on her leather bracelet, and then her sunglasses “okay, NOW, I’m ready.”

she giggled as he struck a dramatic pose, but she had to admit, he looked way too attractive for this to be a joke. “Hold on, you’re missing one thing.” She grabbed one of the rings off the counter and slid it over his pinkie finger. “There. Now, you’re perfect.” Matty pushed the sunglasses down when he noticed the way that her gaze had lingered on the leather cuff.

An idea occurred to him. A vision, really. He rushed to light the candles that had remained around the bathtub from last night’s elaborate aftercare session, using the cigarette lighter in his pockets. He handed her the sunglasses back before heading for his open suitcase. “Matty, what’re you- we’re already late- people are expecting us!”

“people are boring.” He said, one hand behind his back, hiding what he’d brought back in, his other hand grabbed her by the waist. “Close your eyes and kiss me, yeah?”

***

her knees hit against the porcelain tub as another ruined orgasm evaded her, shaking her body from head to toe. “Please, Matty, please, my love - need-“ she felt suddenly cold when he pulled away from her naked body. he’d driven her crazy, cupping her breasts, kissing in between them, twisting and squeezing her nipples as he pleased, he’d sucked and bitten on her neck, sure to leave a mark that will be difficult to cover up tomorrow. Getting her wet and pushing his clothed center against her throbbing exposed cunt had brought him a smile. “wrists.” He stated simply, and waited for her to offer them willingly for him to tie up above her head. “you wet enough?” A hint of trouble in his question. “sooo wet, pleaseee”

he still slipped his finger inside her to check, taking the chance to tease her a bit. Once certain that it was comfortable, he pulled out the remote controlled bullet vibrator — a purchase made specifically for travel adventures. It’s compact, small, easy to hide, and lends itself nicely to controlling from a distance— slipping it inside of her. “ohh- fuck!” She knew what was coming, and it was torture. He’d clicked it on, taking a moment to enjoy her writhing and moaning against the bathtub before going about his business. “Don’t you dare cum without my say so. You got that?” He announced, casually.

“yeah- yesss.”

her moaning and desperate crying filled the bathroom as he went through her makeup and jewelry items in search of some inspiration. Every now and then, he would remember to click the remote, adjusting the speed or rhythm and hearing her suffer for him. He almost took pity on her when he heard her assure him, without prompting, “I- I- I didn’t cum, I promise. Just- fuck…really really want to.”

he meandered leisurely towards the bathtub and look down, the flickering flames of teacup candles giving him an idea. “you wanna cum?”

“so- so- so much. Please, honey. Please matty….”

as she spoke, matty lifted the candle over her body, tilting it slightly. she shrieked in hot, white pain as the melted wax dripped over her skin. Her back lifting in the air, a feeble attempt to escape her confines. Matty gave her a moment to adjust before repeating the name process again with another candle. as he splattered different colors of wax all over her breasts and stomach, she couldn’t help but clench around the vibrator inside her and, moan, with pain and with pleasure. her gut wrenching cries had turned to small sniffles when he ran out of wax. He sprinkled some of her make up glitter all over her burning skin and pulled out his phone for some photos as she shook and held in her orgasms, dutifully. the flashing phone camera had alerted him to her tear stained cheeks, making him smile. “alright. You’ve had enough, darling.” Gently, he crouched down, reaching over and slipping the toy out of her. she whined pathetically. in response, Matty lined up the shower head with her cunt and turned on the water. He used his empty hand to expose her clit focusing the water stream directly on it. “cum for me, my darling. Let go. Let me have you.”

[q-gorgeous]

Bleeding Colors

fanfiction

ao3

word count: 2175

Soulmate Au where after your soulmate dies, you can only see in black and white. As in you see normal colors until they die and then only in black and white for the rest of your life, so you only ever know if you had a soulmate once it's too late. Except Character A’s (up to you who you want it to be) soulmate is Danny. While Danny is in Phantom form, character A’s vision is in black and white, but returns to normal color when Danny is Fenton. Character A is going crazy trying to find their soulmate who keeps dying and getting resurrected. @ghostboidanny

heres an old work of mine that also helped inspire this new fic :D its a fic with the same concept. its titled Colors and so i thought id give this one a similar name jhugyf

soulmate au boogaloo 

Dash walked back to the locker room with the rest of the guys after football practice was over. Coach was extra hard on them today and Dash could smell it. 

He made his way to his locker and grabbed his body wash and shampoo and his bag with his regular clothes and a towel. It was one of those days where he absolutely needed a shower immediately after practice. There was no way he was going home smelling like this. 

He found an empty shower stall and set his stuff down, pulling the curtain closed. He undressed and turned the water on. He was squeezing some shampoo into his hands when something started happening. 

The color started bleeding out of everything. At first he thought it was the lighting, the lights went out, maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him. But the color faded from every single thing in the room. In his panic, he slipped on the wet floor and dropped his bottle of shampoo. 

“Haha.” He heard Keith laugh at him from another shower stall. “You know what they say, Dash. Don’t drop the soap.”

He could hear the guys laugh at him from their shower stalls. His curtain got pulled back and Kwan was standing there.

“You know what that means in our locker room.” Kwan looked at him with a serious expression on his face. “Time for the torture of a tickle fight.” He waggled his fingers in the air at Dash. After a moment, Kwan’s brows furrowed as he looked at him.

“Dash, are you okay?”

Dash made eye contact with Kwan and took a few deep breaths.

“The color drained out of my vision. It’s all gone. Everything is in black and white now.”

The laughter of the guys around him stopped and everyone was silent.

“Shit, man.” Keith said quietly. “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

Everyone gave Dash their condolences and went back to their showers quietly. Kwan still stood by his open curtain. 

“Will you be okay?” He asked.

Dash nodded. “Yeah. I don’t think I ever got the chance to meet them. At least I’m not losing someone that I already knew. That would make it-”

Dash was startled into silence when he saw the color start to seep back into everything. He stared around him as everything went back to the way it had always been. 

“It’s back. They didn’t die.” 

Kwan sighed in relief and the other guys cheered.

Pulling the curtain closed again, Kwan walked away. Dash went back to his shower. He picked up the shampoo bottle off the ground and clicked the cap shut. 

What happened? Was his soulmate sick? How did they die and come back to life?

Dash considered himself lucky. It would have sucked if he went his whole life without meeting his soulmate. He’s glad they’re okay. They still had a chance. 

-----

Dash didn’t know what was going on. He felt like he was losing his goddamn mind. 

It had been two months since the first time his soulmate died. And it had happened everyday since then. Often more than once a day! What the hell was going on?

At first he had asked around school. You haven’t died recently, have you? You haven’t been having a lot of near death experiences, right? But the more it kept happening, the more he realized that his soulmate wasn’t anyone that he knew. He didn’t know anyone that would have these serious health conditions that would cause them to be dying every single day. 

That was how he got this idea.

He looked at where Fenton, Manson, and Foley sat on the other side of the cafeteria, eating their lunches. They knew people he didn’t. Maybe they would know something. 

He walked over towards their table and stopped behind where Manson and Foley sat. Fenton looked up at him and Dash waited until the other two turned around to face him.

“What do you want, Dash?” Manson snapped, glaring up at him. 

Dash swallowed. He’d never admit how much she actually intimidated him. He just had to push forward and get the information he was looking for. 

“You guys seem like you’re into some freaky shit. Do you know any kids who keep getting raised from the dead?”

Fenton looked like Dash had grown a second head. Manson and Foley stared at him with similar expressions. 

“No, Dash. We don’t know any zombies.” Manson said.

“Haha. I’m being serious. Are there any kids doing weird occult things, kids with health issues whose heart keeps stopping, are there any kids from Casper High who are in the hospital right now?”

“Why?” Fenton asked. 

Dash pressed his lips together. Did he want to tell them that he was trying to figure out who his soulmate was? Did he want to give them that information?

He didn’t debate on it for long before he caved. 

“I’m actually trying to find my soulmate.” He said honestly. “Everyday a couple times a day my vision goes black and white before it goes back to normal again. I don’t know if my soulmate has some serious health problems or if they’re into some really weird shit, but I want to try and find them before they inevitably end up croaking.”

The trio was silent for a few seconds before Foley bursted out laughing.

Dash flushed. “What? Wouldn’t you want to try to find your soulmate if it looked like they were going to die soon?”

“Shut up, Tucker!” Manson hissed at him. She turned to face him again. “Sorry, Dash but we don’t know anyone like that.” 

Dash looked from Foley to Manson and then to Fenton. For some reason Fenton had turned as red as a tomato. 

“Are you guys sure?” Dash asked.

Fenton nodded meekly. “Like Sam said, we don’t know any zombies.” He squeaked out. 

Dash’s shoulders slumped and he sighed. “Thanks anyways.” 

He started walking away from them. He could hear hushed whispers behind him but he didn’t pay them any mind. 

Maybe his soulmate wasn’t even in Amity Park. If neither the geeks nor him and his friends knew a person like this from Casper High, maybe they just weren’t here. 

It dawned on him that with how things seemed to be going with his soulmate's health, it was likely they’d never get to meet. Dash resigned himself to the fact that he’d probably be seeing in black and white for the rest of his life very soon. 

——-

Dash was starting to notice something. 

It seemed like every time his soulmate was having health issues, dying or whatever was happening, was correlated to when Fenton would leave their classroom. Somehow. 

It couldn’t be Fenton. Fenton was as healthy as he could be. Sure, he could be healthier or more in shape, but he wasn’t sick or anything. No, something else was going on.

Maybe Fenton was secretly beating up his soulmate. Beating them to the point that they almost died. But how did they always come back to life? It didn’t make sense. None of it made any sense.

But that was why Dash decided to follow Danny the next time he went to the bathroom. That would be his chance to see what was happening out here when his soulmate was always dying. 

Danny ran out the door and Dash stood up and started following after him without so much of a thought to Lancer.

“Mr. Baxter, where are you going?” He asked.

“I, uh, also have to use the bathroom.”

Dash ran out before Lancer could protest and looked for Danny. 

He saw him turn a corner down the hallway and Dash started running. He couldn’t let Danny out of his sight. He needed to know what the boy was doing every time he left the classroom. He needed to know if it was related to his soulmate or not. 

Dash turned the corner that Danny went around just in time to see him go into a janitor’s closet. Why was he going in there? Did he and Sam meet to make out in there? Gross. Wait, if this was related to the whole soulmate thing it couldn’t be Sam. She was also healthy and didn’t look very close to dying all the time. 

Dash reached the door and pulled it open just in time to hear Danny yell. 

“Going ghost!” 

Dash’s eyes opened wide as he stared at Danny. A white ring appeared around his waist and split into two. They traveled up and around him, disappearing as they went over his head and feet and there in front of Dash stood Phantom.

Danny Phantom. 

As those rings had traveled along Danny’s body, the color faded from his view once more. Everything faded to black and white. Then Danny turned around and met Dash’s eyes, his own opening wide.

They were a bright, electric green. It was the only color left in the bleak, monotone world that had been replaced when Danny transformed. 

Tucker’s laughter from the day he asked them if they knew anyone who was being raised from the dead replayed in his head. All he could do was stare. 

“You? It’s you?”

“Dash-”

The building rumbled around them and Dash could hear someone scream from somewhere in the school. Danny’s face hardened. 

“I have to go. We can talk later.”

Dash watched as he flew away, phasing through the ceiling and out of sight. 

Danny Fenton was Danny Phantom. He was his soulmate. 

-----

Dash laid in his bed in his room later that night. Danny had never come back to class that day. Dash couldn’t help but feel like he was avoiding him.

He couldn’t blame him. If he was some nerd that found out the guy that bullied him at school everyday for years was his soulmate, he’d be pretty upset about it too. Danny probably thought that the world was playing some kind of cruel prank on him. 

The colors in his vision had come and gone all day since Danny transformed. He must’ve been off fighting ghosts. Right now Dash was surrounded by the bleak grayness of his room. Danny must’ve been transformed right now. What was he doing? Was he fighting ghosts? 

Dash was staring up at the ceiling when suddenly Phantom’s head was poking through the wall above his face.

“Ahh!” Dash shouted. He sat up suddenly as he tried to back away but he only accomplished knocking his and Danny’s foreheads together. 

“Ow!” Danny shouted. He phased the rest of the way through the wall as he held one of his hands to his face. He floated upside down in the air as he rubbed his forehead. 

“Sorry!” Dash said, rubbing his own forehead. That hurt. “I just wasn’t expecting you to be right there so suddenly.” 

“Yeah I guess that’s my fault.” Danny turned himself right side up and sat cross legged in the air. “I probably should’ve sent you a text before just showing up.”

They sat and stared at each other. Danny said they would talk later, and now it was later, but what were they even going to talk about?

“So you’re my soulmate, huh?” Danny said.

Dash fidgeted on his bed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

They sat in silence again. It made Dash twitchy and uncomfortable. He didn’t know what they were supposed to talk about.

“What now?” He blurted out. Danny gave him a quizzical look. 

“It’s not like we have to suddenly be together just because we’re soulmates.” Danny said. “We can at least start with being nice to each other and see where it takes us.”

“Oh.” Dash nodded. That sounded manageable. “Okay.”

“Unless you want to be together?” Danny gave him a sly grin.

“What?” Dash squeaked out.

“Sam and Tucker told me that you’re like, Phantom’s biggest fan even though you never got the chance to see me in my ghost form before.”

How did they know that? He thought he was pretty chill about Phantom!

Danny waved off whatever expression Dash was making at him. “Relax, I’m just teasing you. Haha.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Anyways, if we’re gonna just start with being nice to each other, we could go to my house and play some video games?” 

“Sure!” Dash stood up. “I’ll whip your ass at them though.”

“You better not, I won’t back down from a challenge.”

Now eye level with Danny, Dash stared at his eyes. They were still that electric green. 

“What?” Danny asked.

“Your eyes.” Dash said in wonder. “They’re green. They’re the only color I can see right now.” 

“Oh. That’s neat. They do say that eyes are the windows to the soul.”

“Yeah, the window to your soul telling me you’re not actually dead.” 

Danny threw his head back and barked out a laugh. “Ha! That was a good one. Now come on, if you beat me at Mario Kart I’ll let you stay for dinner. My mom’s making homemade mashed potatoes tonight.” 

“You’re on.”

[ourtearsofrain]

Just Another Scary Movie (D.R.W/S.F.K)

Summary: When Sam does everything he can to finally just get one night to himself, he gets exactly what he wanted, spending the night watching shitty rom coms all comfy on his couch. But when a strange caller interrupts his night of relaxation, all his plans come crashing down on his head.

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka (!Scream AU)

Series Genre: angst, horror

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: man threatening/breaking and entering/physically restraining someone (Just imagine the actual Scream movies, less blood and stuff but same phycological mind fuck)

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Sam truly did love living with his brothers, but quickly learned that the two rarely spent time apart from each other, only dragging Sam into their “adventures” as soon as he had settled into their house and his class schedules. Which was fine, after only seeing them on holidays for six years, he was grateful to spend so much time with them again, just like they did before the twins left for college. But Sam needed time to himself every once and a while, a concept that his brothers seemed to not understand. So, he took every chance he could to have the house to himself for the night, often making excuses that he had to be up early for a required attendance lecture the next day or that he was too exhausted to join them.

And that’s exactly what he had done tonight; when the twins invited him to go club hopping with them to celebrate Jake finishing his thesis, Sam had even feigned a cold to stay at home when they didn’t believe his other excuses, wanting nothing more than to watch movies all night long curled up on the couch with a freshly packed bong. Sam didn’t feel like explaining just how stressful and exhausting transferring universities in his Junior year and moving to another state had been for him, he was trying to focus on how great it was to be with his brothers again and didn’t need them feeling sorry for him. So, he had done everything to make sure it would be the perfect cozy night at home, knowing he needed just one calm night to himself. Sam had pre-popped popcorn for when he got the munchies, wrapped himself in his favorite throw blanket, and decided to wear the smallest shorts he owned, knowing that he would be asleep by the time the twins got home so they wouldn’t be able to give him shit over it.

Hitting ‘play’ on whatever new, probably shitty, Netflix original rom com he had decided on, Sam grabs his lighter, already knowing from the trailer that he needed to be incredibly high to sit through it. Just as the intro begins to play, Sam’s phone buzzes wildly on the couch next to him, halting his movements as he reaches for the bong. That’s weird, someone’s calling me. Jake and Josh never call when they’re out, unless it’s an emergency. Trying to keep himself calm, Sam picks up his phone, his heart rate steadying once more when he sees an unrecognized caller ID. Usually, he never answered those calls, choosing to send them to voicemail instead, but his relief that the twins were fine clouds his mind as he answers it, pausing his movie and putting his phone on speaker. “Hello?”

“Hello.” A deep voice rasps through the phone, and Sam can’t help but wonder if that was actually what his voice sounded like, or if he was using some voice filter to remain anonymous.

“Yes?”

“Who is this?” Great, a wrong number dial. Just what I needed interrupting my movie night.

“Who are you trying to reach?” Sam tries not to let his annoyance into his tone, knowing that it probably wasn’t the caller’s fault that they accidentally called him so late into the night.

“I don’t know.”

I’m getting tired of this. “Well, you have the wrong number.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah, have a great night.” Sam hangs up without another word, tossing his phone back onto the couch as he reaches for his bong once again. His hand doesn’t even find the cool glass before his phone begins buzzing, annoyance and frustration taking root in him when he sees the same number flash across his screen. “Hello??”

“I’m sorry, I guess I dialed the wrong number.”

“So, why’d you call me again?”

“I just wanted to apologize.”

“And you have now, so bye.” Sam’s finger hovers over the ‘end call’ button before the mystery caller’s voice filters through the speaker, the hint of desperation tinging his tone.

“Wait, wait! Don’t hang up please.”

“Why?”

“I wanna talk to you for a little.”

Disgusting creep. “Pornhub is free if you’re looking to get off tonight, or go find some AI text chat to fulfill whatever you need.” Sam hangs up, trying to keep the weird caller off his mind as he didn’t want it to ruin his night. You need this, Sammy. You just need one fucking relaxing night at home to reset, don’t let him ruin that for you.

He gets about five more minutes into the movie before his phone rings again, thankful that their family had an unlimited plan so that whoever was constantly calling him wouldn’t drain any of his minutes. With his first bong rip flowing through his body, he can’t seem to find it in himself to be annoyed as calm fills him, curious to see exactly what the fuck this person wanted from him. If all else failed, he could always block them. “Hello? Seriously, what do you want?”

“Why don’t you want to talk to me?” He sounds… genuinely sad?

“Because I don’t know who you are.”

“You tell me your name and I’ll tell you mine.” Sam almost laughs as he picks up a few pieces of popcorn, not realizing that he had put his phone on speaker again and was holding it close enough to himself that the caller would be able to hear him eat. “What’s that noise?”

“Popcorn.” Sam’s answer comes immediately, his mind too muddled to care about the unimportant question.

“I only eat popcorn when I watch a movie.” Amusement tinges the caller’s voice as he pauses, the silence heavy through the speaker as Sam waits to see if he would continue. “Are you watching a movie? Is that what I hear?”

“Yep. Some cheesy rom com. Do you like rom coms?” If he was being honest, Sam couldn’t explain what prompted him to ask the question, too inebriated to care and willing to just talk to whoever was on the other end of the line.

“Not really. I prefer horror movies. Do you like horror movies?”

“Eh, some of the classics. IT, Friday the 13th, The Shining, Halloween, stuff like that. I’m not a fan of most of the newer stuff since CGI has gotten better, it’s too gory for me.” Sam considers his words for a moment, thinking back on all the new horror movies Jake had forced him and Josh to watch over the years. “Actually, the newer IT movies were pretty good too.”

“Is that your favorite horror movie?”

Shrugging, Sam realizes that the other man couldn’t see him over the phone, slightly amused at himself that he had forgotten. “I guess. Do you have a favorite horror movie?”

“Hmmmm… maybe Sleepaway Camp. You ever seen that?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“The ending is reaaally scary.

“Oh, is it?”

“Mhm.” Not knowing how to feel about the hungry undertones of the caller’s voice, he moves past it, unable to care enough about it to end the call. “So, you got a boyfriend?”

Sam’s cheeks tinge bright pink at the unexpected question, his sudden nerves coming off as what he worried was flirtatious banter. “Why? You wanna ask me out or something?”

“Maybe” The single word sends butterflies to Sam’s stomach, the smile in the other man’s voice audible even through his speaker. This is a really weird pick-up attempt, but it’s the first romantic possibility I’ve gotten here so far… “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Hmm. Y’know, you never told me your name.” Why does he sound so hungry? Shit, I’m hungry, I’m probably just projecting. At the realization that the munchies had hit him, Sam moves the popcorn bowl closer to himself, snacking off it as he considers what to say.

“Why do you wanna know my name?”

“‘Cause I wanna know who I’m looking at.”

Sam feels as if he had been thrown into a freezing lake as ice cold fear seeps into his bones at the words. When he doesn’t see anyone after glancing around himself, his eyes go out the large window beside the TV, the night too dark to see more than five feet outside of it. “What did you just say?”

“I said, I wanna know who I’m talking to.” The caller’s smooth, even voice sends another wave of terror over Sam, the other man’s tone unsettlingly calm and collected.

“That’s- that’s not what you said.”

“And what do you think I said?” The speaker goes silent, and Sam’s anxiety finally gets the best of him as he darts up to close the blinds to the window, trying to squint into the darkness to see further. “Hello?”

“I need to- I gotta go-”

“Wait! I didn’t get to ask you out.” Although his tone remains mostly the same, Sam can hear the eagerness and despiration in his voice, and while the anonymity of the other man used to spark intrigue inside of Sam, now it only brought dread.

“No thank you.”

“Don’t hang up on me!” Sam nearly misses his words over the sound of him slamming the blinds closed, his hands shaking as he presses that red button in the bottom center of his screen.

Fuck, did the twins lock the front door? Nearly tripping over his blanket, he absentmindedly chucks it back onto the couch as he races to the front door, his stomach dropping to see it unlocked. He can’t get to the door fast enough, forcing his hands to steady before slamming the deadbolt into place. The sudden buzzing in his hand nearly makes him jump out of his skin, scared tears beginning to brew on his lash line at the number.

“Y-yes?”

“I told you not to hang up on me.” The anger in his tone is enough to nearly send Sam over the edge, his paranoia overtaking him as his eyes stay locked on the door.

“What do you want?”

“To talk.”

“Well then just- just call someone else, okay?” The second Sam hangs up, he navigates to the “contact” for the number, his finger mere centimeters from the “block” button before his screen lights up. It was the same number, the same person. Again. His fear transforms into anger momentarily, his frustration at his interrupted movie night filling him. Who did this person think they were calling him like that? From taking him away from his night of relaxation? “Listen, asshole!”

“No! You listen, you little bitch! You hang up on me again and I’ll strangle you with your own fucking intestines!” Sam is left frozen in his spot at the rage dripping from the caller’s words, his stomach turning from the open and graphic threat as he tries to find something, anything to respond with.

“Is this- is this some kind of a joke?”

“More of a game, really.” There’s that slick, cunning tone again. This guy is fucking psychotic. “Can you handle that… Sammy?”

How the fuck does he know my name? Sam tries to keep himself calm, his mind moving in slow motion through every possibility. “I’m gonna- I’ll call the cops.”

“Even if you hung up right now to do that, they’d never get here in time.” The caller’s voice carries an almost musical, sing-songy lilt to it, only furthering Sam’s utter terror. Is this is all- just some fucking game to him?

“What- what do you want?”

“To see if you’re still this pretty without your skin.” Nausea crashes over Sam at the words, the other man’s sincere tone sending him racing to the kitchen and grabbing the nearest trashcan he can find before emptying his stomach into the bin. Straightening, Sam finds his phone face-down on the floor, almost staring at him, beckoning him closer with each second. Just when he bends to pick it up, three booming knocks ring out against the window over the sink, the frames rattling as if the glass was on the verge of shattering.

“Who’s there?! Who’s there?!” Sam nearly sobs the words out, huddling closer to the counter from the floor, his knees pulled to his chest. “I’m calling the fucking cops!”

“You should never say, ‘Who’s there?’.” The caller cuts him off just as Sam moves to hang up, that deep, smooth voice pausing his motions. “You’d know that if you watched horror movies. It’s a death wish, y’know. There’re three rules to surviving in a horror movie. Rule number one is don’t fuck. Think you’ve got that one covered, Sammy boy. Rule two, don’t drink or do drugs. Not off to a great start here, are we?” Disappointment drips from his tone, tsking at Sam until he feels like he could physically picture the caller shaking his head. “And rule number three is never, ever fucking say ‘I’ll be right back’ or ‘Who’s there?’. That makes two out of three, I’m afraid your chances aren’t lookin’ too good here, Sammy.”

Just as the words leave the caller’s mouth, Sam glances up at the window, catching a flash of white and black just on the other side of the glass. Throwing himself into the corner, Sam takes up as little space as possible, hoping that if whatever had passed by the window looked back into it, he wouldn’t be able to see Sam. “No! Please, please, I don’t want to die. I- why won’t you just leave me alone?”

“I want to play a game.”

Sam’s tears roll down his cheeks at the monotony of his words. It is all just a game to him. He’s- he’s playing with me like I’m some toy. “No.”

“Then you die.”

“No, no, please!”

“Which is it then, Sammy?”

“What kind- what kind of game?”

“Go back to the living room and find out.”

Did this sick fuck get in?! Am I- is he gonna kill me the second I get in the room? Is he just waiting to attack? Sam stands on shaky legs, forcing his body to move through the kitchen in the direction of the living room. The moonlight filtering through the window catches the light off the cold steel of a knife in a woodblock, and Sam grabs it before continuing his path. Tiptoeing through the silent house, Sam peeks around the corner only to find the living room empty, his shitty romcom still playing on the TV.

“Good, now here’s how we play: I ask a question, if you get it right, I leave you alone.”

“Please, please don’t do this.”

“Come onnnn, it’ll be fun.”

This could- this could be my only chance to get out. What the fuck is this, why is this happening to me? I don’t- I don’t know what to do. “Fine.” Sam’s words are no louder than a whisper, heavy with defeat as he peeks through the blinds, his eyes scanning the trees outside of the window desperately.

“It’s an easy category: classic horror movie trivia. I’ll even give you a warm-up question. What’s the name of the summer camp where ‘Friday the 13th’ takes place?”

“I- I don’t remember. I don’t remember.”

“Come onnnn, you said it was one of the classics. You like the classics, remember?”

“I-” Sam cuts himself off, his mind scrambling in his terror to remember anything he could about the movie. “Camp- Camp Crystal?”

“Oh, you’re so close Sammy.” The caller purrs the words out, only adding to the distractions swirling around his head.

“Camp Crystal- Camp Crystal Lake! It’s Camp Crystal Lake!”

“Yes! Good job, Sammy. Now, for your real question. That was just a warm-up, remember?”

“Please- please-” Sam tries to blink the tears from his eyes, knowing that he would never be able to see anything happening around him if he let them pool to blur his vision.

“Same category. Who first says ‘Beep, beep Richie’ in the 2017 IT?”

“One of the Losers- one of- uhhh, probably Eddie! It’s one of the Losers, you sick fuck!” Nearly screaming the words out, relief floods Sam as he realizes what his correct answer meant for him.

“I’m sorry, Sammy! That’s the wrong answer!”

“No! No, it’s not! It was one of them, I’ve seen that movie so many fucking times, I know it’s one of them!”

“Then you should know that in the 2017 remake, Pennywise is the first to say ‘Beep, beep Richie’! None of the other Losers say it in the first movie! That’s only in the original!”

“You- you tricked me-”

“I didn’t though, Sammy. Lucky for you, I’m willing to give you a bonus round, just to see if you can redeem yourself.” Sam holds his breath, the caller’s seconds of silence stretching into what felt like hours. “Where am I?”

“What?”

“Where am I? Am I outside, or am I in the house? Where. Am. I?”

Feeling as if his heart had stopped, Sam can do nothing but hang up the phone, clutching the knife in his hand as he makes a beeline for his bedroom. Ok, Josh- Josh- I need to call him. I need to get to my room, lock the door, and then call him. I need to- to call the cops. Dread fills him with each step towards the stairs as he’s sent straight to voicemail, waiting for the tone to begin his recording. “Josh there’s- there’s someone here with me, threatening me, they want to- they want to hurt me. I’m- I’m locking myself in my room and calling the cops but just- I don’t know if they’re in the house but-” Panic flashes across his mind as realization hits him. I didn’t check the back door. We never- we never lock the back door.

The knife and phone drop from his hand as someone body slams him, sending them both to the floor while Sam can do nothing but yelp in his shock. The other person straddles Sam before he can recover, pinning his wrists down on the floor with his hands, and Sam can think nothing, feel nothing, as he stares up at the masked figure above him. His black, hooded cloak hid any distinct features from Sam, but he swore he could see a singular, dark brown curl hanging down from under the hood, just to the side of his mask that resembled a disfigured, screaming ghost.

Sam sends his knee straight into the other man’s crotch, shoving him off himself as he claws at the mask, eventually ripping it from his face. Before he has a chance to look at him properly, Sam gives the man one final shove downwards before snatching his phone off the ground and darting up the stairs. He doesn’t stop until he slams and locks his door behind himself, looking around his room frantically for anything he could use as a weapon before realizing that he was still leaving Josh a voicemail. “Listen, please, please just pick up. Please, Josh, I need help-”

Something slams into Sam’s door, and hard. The force shakes the doorframe, the lock creaking under the impact, startling Sam and causing him to drop his phone in his terror. Racing to the window, his shaking hands fumble with the lock, finally ripping it wide open before he shoves the screen from the frame and it clatters to the ground as he tries to climb out. A loud crack rattles the room, and Sam glances back to see the man, the caller, standing in the door, the kitchen knife in hand as he takes heavy breaths.

The man makes it across the room and throws Sam to the floor before he can even try to hoist himself up, his terror multiplying as he pins him to the ground once again. Sam can do nothing but stare up at him when the other man straddles him, making sure to keep his legs pinned to the ground too, as he keeps his gorgeous hazel eyes glued to Sam.  I was right. Curly hair. He almost laughs from fear at the thought, knowing that he had much more important things to focus on at the moment, that he shouldn’t spend his remaining time thinking about the caller’s gorgeous shoulder length mess of curls, or how good it looked with the top half held back with a hair tie. And he really shouldn’t have been staring at each individual freckle dotting the arch of his nose, peppered across his sun-kissed skin like stars.

“So,” The caller starts, moving Sam’s wrists to one hand as the other comes down to grab the knife, before bringing the blade up to Sam’s throat, the cool metal stinging his skin under even the smallest amount of pressure. Although Sam realizes that the man must have filtered his voice over the phone, finding it now higher in pitch yet still deeper than his own, it was still as smooth and delicious as honey. “You still don’t like horror movies?”

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A/N:

This is possibly another contribution to @hearts-hunger 's Halloween event (2 or 11 ish if you squint?) (ik it's late, I just needed to write this)

Yes ik that Danny pic is from last yrs Jedi costume but HE’S WEARING A FUCKIN CLOAK/ROBE I HAD TO

I actually fucking hate Sleepaway Camp, the end isn't scary, it's just completely fucked up. Spoilers ahead if you don't feel like watching: the only reason the killer girl starts murdering people is because she's actually a boy who has been forced to dress and act like a girl for the last like 10 years of their life. No. Other. Reason.

Taglist:

@jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka @milojames16 @gretnavannfleet @aioba1503-sdm @sanguinebats @cheersdannyx2 @ofthecaravel @holdingup-fallingsky

[noblest-roman-of-them-all]

Second Chances Chapter 4 The Next Morning

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Janus cursed as he startled awake to another ringing phone. He quickly snatched the device before it could wake Roman. "Hey." There was silence on the other side and Janus pulled the phone away to make sure he'd actually answered. "Remus?"

"Is he dead?"

"What?" Janus demanded quietly and sneaked from the room. "No, Remus-"

"Why else would you be answering his phone?" He demanded.

"Remus-"

"Is everything alright?" Logan called from behind Remus.

"Janus answered Ro's phone," Remus told him.

"What? Why?"

"If you'd shut up I'd tell you!" Janus snapped. He waited a beat to make sure the couple on the other line stayed quiet. "Roman called me around 1:30 this morning. His bastard of a boyfriend abandoned him at the club after accusing him of cheating when Roman was being harassed by some other bastard there. He called me because he knew you were out of town and he needed a ride home."

"Okaaay, that doesn't tell me why you have his phone now. Almost twelve hours later," Remus pointed out.

"The man who'd been harassing him attacked him just before I got there," Janus explained. "I got to him and got him out before- before the worst of it. But we were up for a while after that and he stayed with me so I could keep an eye on him."

"Put him on the phone," Remus said, a steely edge to his voice.

"Remus-"

"Now, Janus. I want to talk to my brother."

"He's still asleep," Janus argued. "Let him sleep. Besides, if you talk to him when you're this angry you're just going to upset him. He was blaming himself enough last night, if you sound that upset when you talk to him, he's going to take it the wrong way."

"Someone assaulted my brother, Janus!" Remus barked. "How am I supposed to not be angry?"

"That's not what I said! I said don't talk to him angry. Don't sound angry when you talk to him or he'll assume you're angry at him."

"He's right, starlight," Logan said softly. "Roman's always been sensitive about that, but especially lately. We know you'd never actually be upset at him for this, but it's going to take Roman some time to see that."

"Yeah," Remus agreed with a sigh. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"I let him know you called when he wakes."

"Thanks, Jan."

"You're welcome, dear."

---

Janus rushed to meet Roman as he stumbled, bleary-eyed, from the bedroom. "Hey. How're you feeling?"

Roman melted into Janus's arms and nodded. "Tired still, sore, but...better than I was."

"Good. Do you want some tea or something? I have coffee, if you prefer."

Roman lifted his head in surprise. "You have coffee?"

"I prefer tea, but I still enjoy coffee. Do you want some?"

"That'd be great, honestly," he answered, rubbing his forehead.

Janus nodded and led him to the kitchen. "Do you want some Tylenol?"

"That'd be even better."

Janus smirked at how well he still knew Roman and took a bottle from the cupboard over the sink. "Here you are," he passed off the bottle and glass. "Get yourself some water, love. I'll fix you some coffee and toast."

"Thanks, Jan."

Janus watched Roman from the corner of his eye and waited till he was seated to say, "Your brother called this morning. After convincing him you weren't dead, I told him a little bit about what happened." Janus set the mug next to the glass of water and kissed his head. "I told him I'd let you know when you woke up."

Roman only nodded.

"You don't have to talk to him right away. He knows you're safe."

"I'd rather just get it over with. Will you stay with me?"

Janus blinked in surprise. "Y-yeah. Yeah, of course I will, hon. I'll be right here with you."

---

"Oh thank god," Remus grumbled at the caller ID on his screen. "Ro, hey, Janus told us what happened. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay. Is Logan there too?"

"I'm here," Logan replied as he came to stand next to his partner, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Remus has you on speaker. Is Janus with you?"

"I asked him to stay," Roman confirmed.

"Logan and I talked, we're going to head back-"

"No," Roman cut his twin off. "No, you guys have been planning this for a while. I-I'm fine, really."

"Roman-"

"Remus-"

"I don't want you staying by yourself right now and I sure as hell don't want you with Tyler, especially after he up and left you last night."

"He can stay with me," Janus offered without thinking. "Or I can go stay with him that way he won't be alone and you can finish your trip."

Remus sighed, uncertainty crawling around in his gut. "You gonna be good with that, bro?"

"Yeah."

"When I get back we're gonna get your stuff from Tyler, okay?"

"Okay."

"Ro-"

"He has my boy," Roman cut in miserably. "I stayed with Janus last night so he's still at Tyler's apartment. He's not gonna feed him, Rem."

"Boy? What boy?" Janus asked, clearly alarmed and taken aback by this development.

Remus rubbed his forehead wearily. "He means his cat, Janus. You left his dry food out, right? That timed feeder thing we got him?"

"Yeah."

"He'll be okay with that for a little while. He won't be happy with it, but it'll be okay. If you have to go get him at least try to do it when Tyler's not there, alright? Please try to wait until I get back."

Roman sighed discontentedly, but agreed. "Alright."

"Thank you. Let me know where you decide to stay, alright?"

"I want to stay here," Roman croaked. "I don't- I don't want to be at home if Tyler comes looking for me."

"Geeze..." Remus rubbed his forehead. "Yeah, alright. That's-that sounds like a good idea. Are you sure you don't need me to come home?"

"I'm sure. I'll be okay with Janus."

"Okay," Remus nodded, taking a slow breath. "Yeah, alright."

"Are you okay?" Janus asked.

"Someone could have killed my baby brother last night, Janus, no I'm not okay," Remus growled. "I know. I know he's safe, I know he's okay, but I just-" he dropped his head into his hands and squeezed it tightly.

Logan stood at his side and rubbed his back. "It's alright, starlight," he soothed. "He's okay, he's safe."

"I know," Remus croaked. He took a deep breath and sat up. "I know, I'm okay, I just... God, I'm so glad you're okay."

"It is okay if you need to come for your own sake," Janus reminded.

"We might," Logan replied and kissed Remus’s hair. "We'll see how he's feeling this evening."

Remus rolled his eyes. "We have a reservation we've gotta get to, but keep me updated, okay? I will come home if you need me to."

"I'm gonna be okay, Re. You just enjoy your trip. I'll be fine, really," Roman insisted.

"Yeah, I'll try," Remus answered, totally unconvincingly.

"Logan?"

Logan snorted and kissed Remus’s head again. "I'll make sure he relaxes, don't worry. Call us if you need anything."

"I will," Roman promised. "Love you both."

"Love ya too, Ro. Please be safe."

"I will," Roman promised. "Have fun."

"We will," Logan answered. "Love you."

Remus dropped his head into his hands and groaned loudly after Logan had disconnected the call.

"We don't have to stay if it's going to cause you too much distress," Logan offered as he massaged the back of Remus’s head.

Remus sighed. "Let's just get through the rest of today. Maybe tomorrow and...reassess then. I want to trust his judgement with this, I want to be able to believe him, I just..."

"I understand," Logan nodded.

"I knew something was wrong, I knew it. Why'd it have to be something like this though? He could have been killed!"

"Breathe," Logan advised. "I know you're scared, Remus. That's fair, that's understandable, let's try to stay present though, alright?"

Remus leaned his head back and stared up at Logan with a pair of pitiful puppy dog eyes. "But I'm so good at catastrophizing."

Logan snorted and kissed his face. "I know exactly how good you are at catastrophizing. That's why I'm trying to get you to stay present so we can avoid a spiral."

"You never let me do anything fun," Remus complained.

"You never like to do anything fun," Logan retorted. He laughed at Remus's offended face.

"How could you!"

"Come on. We have a tour to get to."

[wandas-luvr]

you know just how to be cruel

pairing: leigh shaw x fem!reader

summary: leigh comes over in the middle of the night to ask you a favor.

warnings: 18+ minors dni! soft(ish)dom!leigh (she is still her regular amount of mean), idk probably mommy kink undertones because that's how i live now, fingering (r receiving), oral (r receiving), praise, criminal amounts of teasing, leigh being a rude, condescending bitch but she makes it up to you, leigh being unrightfully possessive (but it's okay bc it's hot), mediocre aftercare bc leigh

-

you look at the clock on your phone as you hear a loud, repetitive knock at your door. you ignore it, deciding no good could come from suspicious knocking at 3:45 am on a thursday, sighing and turning over, getting sucked back into whatever trashy reality tv show was coming on.

then your phone buzzes. once. twice. three times in the span of a minute. before you even get the chance to pick it up to see who it is, you receive a call. you look at the caller id suspiciously: leigh shaw. you click to answer immediately, having heard the news about her husband just recently, wondering if she was calling after missing your condolences call when you were told.

before you could even get a word out you here her voice on the other end of the line. short and clipped, no room to argue or joke with her.

"i'm outside, let me in, it's cold out."

you get up and walk to the door, eyebrows furrowed, wondering why on earth leigh shaw would show up to your door at this hour, especially after what had happened with matt. upon opening you see leigh, clearly upset, but not appearing to be sad. the only thing you can see in her eyes is anger.

"leigh, what are you..?" you cut yourself off, not wanting to upset her more or make her feel unwelcome, "are you okay?"

she scoffs at you, rolling her eyes and walking straight past you into your home.

"don't do that, you know better."

you sigh, clearly, this would not be a very pleasant night.

"you're right, i'm sorry. i'll ask again, but if you get pissed, remember you're the one who told me to say it. what the fuck are you doing here?"

"better. lose the tone next time though, it's not cute on you. i need you to do me a favor."

you chuckle slightly, trying to lighten the mood or at least diffuse the tension the elephant in the room has been creating since she stepped into your apartment.

"awfully big talk for someone who is very rudely asking me for a favor."

"my husband died a month ago, i don't have to ask your permission to be bitter. and last time i checked, you weren't in charge of me."

you knew exactly what she was talking about. before she had met matt, she asked you to experiment with her, leading you through a series of heartbreaks and letdowns until you couldn't face it anymore and left her. throughout the six months the two of you were "together" she took you on a totally of five dates, showing up late to three of them. you had begun to feel like all she used you for was sex, and you simply couldn't bear it anymore. not when you were aching for her to love you the way she told you she did.

you look away, biting your lip, taking a deep breath to collect yourself. you didn't want to set her off, and she clearly wasn't in the right place to hear that she wasn't in charge of you either.

she walks towards you slowly, lifting your chin to encourage you to look up into her eyes, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

"you know what i'm here for, baby." she smiled, sickeningly sweet, with a condescending scrunch of her eyebrows and nod of her head. "the question is: are you gonna give it to me? hm?"

you freeze, you feel your chest constricting and can hear yourself swallow thickly, as you consider. ethically, you know it's wrong. you know it will only crush you and give leigh the quick distraction shes looking for, nothing more, but you can't help it. everything about her makes you lightheaded and weak in the knees, and you knew she'd take care of you, she always had been so generous.

"leigh...i don't think-"

"shh, baby, that's why it's perfect. you don't need to think with me, remember?" she looks into your eyes, looking for any signs of true unwillingness, before pressing the softest of kisses just behind your ear. you can feel her smile against your skin as your breath hitches, or course she remembered.

"love..?" she trails off, waiting for some sign of a response from you, settling for a simple look into her eyes. "are you gonna let me fuck you? make you feel good just like i used to?"

you bite your lip, nodding, mumbling a quiet "please.."

you watch the grin spread across her face, she knew she had you the moment you opened the door.

"see! i knew you'd remember how much you missed me!" she pushes you back toward your couch, leading you to sit on the arm as she stands between your legs, wrapping you up in a deep, heated kiss. "hmmm, that's my girl."

you almost retort, going to tell her she has no right to call you that, when, as if she could sense it, she tugged on your hair, clearly a preventative warning to watch your mouth.

as a reward for your obedience, you feel her lips start to move downward, drifting to your cheek, then your jaw, down to your neck, clearly leaving bruises in her wake.

she chuckles against your skin, hot breath tickling your neck, when you instinctively tip your head to give her more room. smiling at the way she'd created a pattern of muscle memory in you that would never fade no matter how many years passed.

you feel her hands untangle from your hair and drop to your thighs, before she pulls back to look at you: flushed and breathless before she'd even started with you. she gently rubs her thumbs in place, causing you to squirm towards her, barely stifling an embarrassing whine. you internally cringe as you can see the gears turning in her head, watching her piece together your reactions, before she gasps softly, clearly having figured you out.

"awww, sweetheart, it's been a while hasn't it? no one's touched you in so long, i bet you're just soaked," her hands drift towards your pajamas shorts, her fingers pulling the flimsy material aside to get a pick at your panties. "oh, honey, look at you. you made such a mess for me! oh, i bet you're just aching, aren't you?"

you nod, canting your hips up as you feel her fingertips barely ghosting along the gusset of your panties. she shoots you a look, cowing you immediately, your pleasure had always been on her terms.

she smiles, before clearly growing impatient herself, pulling your panties to the side and lightly running two fingers between your folds. a shiver wracks your body as she gasps at your wetness, playing with it between her fingers cockily. something about her soft smirk would never fail to make you clench around nothing.

you feel her fingers run up your slit as slow as human possible, until they finally reach your clit, your head tipping back and mouth opening the minute her fingers so much as graze it.

"awww," she exclaims through a chuckle, "god, you really were aching for it. that's it, pretty girl, you just shut your eyes and enjoy it. no thinking, just let it feel good, yeah?"

you nod, moaning softly, as her fingers start to circle your clit, just the way she knew you liked. your nails digging into the arm of the sofa underneath you as leigh played you like a fiddle, muttering dirty phrases under her breath endlessly.

"fuck, you look so good. does that feel nice, baby? oh, i bet it does, sweet girl! yeah, you're welcome, honey, i know this is what you needed."

as you pant and moan underneath her leigh decides she's bored of this, wordlessly bending down to her knees in front of you, fingers drifting downward as well to circle your entrance. laughing when she feels how you try to suck her fingers in as you clench around nothing.

"leigh, please, i need you..." you moan out without thinking, desperate to get her to finally fuck you, "i need you so bad, leigh...please? i'll be good."

"hmm, good girl, begging and i haven't even asked you to yet. just fucking perfect for me." she mutters under her breath as she sinks her fingers into you, blowing softly on your clit to watch your hips jump. "there you go, take it for me, baby. you can do it, come on, be a good girl and just take what i give you."

you moan loudly, grip on the sofa tightening as your nails dig into the fabric. legs subconsciously spreading wider for her of their own accord, every movement of your body fine tuned to her liking.

"that's it, baby, tell me how good it feels. i like to hear that i'm doing a good job." she jokes, winking at you when you fake playfully at her before shutting you up with her mouth on your clit.

your eyes squeeze shut, moaning as she sucks your clit into her mouth, alternating with the pace of her fingers sliding in and out of you expertly. she grins against you, knowing she's winding you up in exactly the right way, touching all the right spots and saying all the right things to make you want her that much more.

she speeds up her pace, apparently intent on having you ruin the upholstery on your couch, smirking when she feels the telltale clench of your walls around her fingers.

"shhh, baby, you have to quiet down, okay? we wouldn't want you to wake up the neighbors, right?" she smiles condescendingly before doubling her efforts, intentionally making you louder for her just to watch you flush at the thought and try to quiet back down before repeating the cycle.

within minutes, she has you cumming on her fingers and her tongue, gripping her hair as she insists on cleaning you up just to hear you whine under her as she teases your sensitive clit.

"leigh, i-"

"shhh, baby, she don't have to talk about it. all we need to know is that it made me feel better, and it definitely made you feel better." she grins, pulling you against her and kissing your head softly, allowing you to lay against her as you catch your breath.

[foxluvrz]

11/19/24:

algebra: okay so i dont remember a lot from this morning except already before classes even started, 🦔 seemed in a much better mood today and was pretty friendly towards me, as well as two of my friends i was with at the time; p and e. thiugh, this i felt sort of bad about but it was absolutely hilarious in the moment is that my friend L was running late and she had gone home sick the day before, so 🦔 assumed she wouldn't be here today; but she did end up coming in before he took attendance. but as he was taking attendance he wss like, "so no L today, right? she went home early yesterday" and like me, p, AND L all like agreed with him thinking he was joking around because he does that alot, turns iut he WASN't and when he stood up to start class he sootted her and had to go back to fix it😭 it was actually hilarious but yeah. another thing that 🦔 did today that was actually awesome and i love him for is the fact that he gave us each numbers to put us into griups, but he counted a specific way so that L and i would be put into the same group even though we sit right next to eachother.. which is honestly pretty epic of him. a small thing though that happened while he was counting us into groups is when he reached me to count "5", he like pushed down sort of hard on my shoulder cause he was directly next to me standing up, and i dont know. it wasnt necessarily like a "harder" push, but like it was more forced pressure rather than just a light tap on my shoulder and i dont know, is it strange i didnt really back down/away from it? i've wrote a multitude of times about how nervous i am to be around him or in his presence, but i think that if i'm like sat down, i feel a lot more comfortable for some strange reason. i think it's because i feel more secure without the chance of like stumbling or something. i really dont wanna say something wack like "the more 🦔 touches me the more comfortable i become" because that honestlt sounds so weird both in and out of context, but like, i guess it's trye in a way?.. i know me standing next to him is scary, but when he like taps me or like comes in ever so slight contact with me on purpose, i don't feel as much fear as i should at all. also another thing is my ex bestfriend C like talked back to him or something during a game we were playing (honestly yeah she's sort of bitchy and like idk rbf personality tbh) and he like had her go iut in the hallway with him at the end of class and like asked her why she had such negativity towards him, which i dont believe she actually does; she just comes across that way and didnt mean it as talking back; so i sorta feel bad.

lunch: okay so this stuff specifically happened during lunch when me, R, and later V/J were in 🐢's room. basically, 🐢 is a d1 HATER of pokemon sun and moon series, as well as like the entire ides of ash and like all his pokemon. 🐢 believes that the only purpose of pokemon is to battle and evolve them, and if they dont/wont evolve, you should just get rid of them. and it was silly because we were talking about like what i thought the point of it was which i answered "idk, creating a bond slash friendship" which let me tell you🐢 DISAGREES HEAVILY with that.. uhm but yeah!! we talked abt pokemon lots more and how 🐢 seems like the tyoe to abuse his pokemon to which HE ADMITTED TO?? and then we went to the tipic of how its crazy that the parents in pokemon let their kids just go out ariund the world with strangers and pokemon and idek😭 this next bit was small and i dont remember it exactly but it was silly, 🐢 said something about something being *insert adjective* and i turned to R and like said something about it and then like nudged my head towards 🐢 motioning that the adj described him more then anything and when 🐢 that he thought i was saying R was it so he went "woah!! now we know what 👽 really thinks of R" to which i was like "oh yeah.. definitelyyy talking about R rn.." staring intensely at him to tell him i was talking about HIM and not R and i think/hope he got it because he started laughing at it a bit😭😭 anyways i let R try some of my tomato soup and he didnt put the lid all the way back on so some of it spilt on the table so i grabbed the crappy like brown oaper towels because that's all i could see and freaking 🐢 was joking abt it and i was like "these dont soak up ANYTHING bro." and he said "well yeah, theyre not mesnt to soak up soup" SHUT UPPP‼️‼️THIS MAN IS LITERALLY MY BIGGEST OP./j. anyways he told me where normal paper towels were after like FOREVER. and idk exactly but i think i threw something and missed terribly? But 🐢 said "wow 👽, no wonder you dont do any sports." WHAT. THIS MAN JUST CALLED ME UNATHLETIC WHAT DID I DO TO HIM. it was rlly funny and i made it worse because i tried throwing something at my friend and msised horribky and i was like "I SWEAR I DID SOFTBALL." and he was like "and how long ago was that?" and i answered "..i dont wanna answer that.." to which he asked "and did you actually throw the ball or did u pick at dandelions" AND I ACTUSLLY DID THROW THE BALL. And i said that and he seemed suprised asf😭 anyways there was a teensy bit more squabble but yeah and at the end i was like "hey 🐢, has anyone told yiu you're very unkind?" and he was like "yeah actually a lot of people have" DAMN. The grinch fr i fear💔 ALSO HES LETTING ME PAINT ONE OF THE LIKE FANBLADES IN HIS CLASSROOM ON THE CEILING FAN SO YIPPEE‼️‼️

i love 🐢 he's my dad pretty much😋

[like-sands-of-time]

It's very late middle ages / age of Christianity for me and the fandom (the show but tbh they took the christian/norman influences to the MAX so) to assume women held few roles of power/authority/influence

I mean I don't have a history degree and I don't know a lot but I know boudica was a badass warrior lady who led armies against the Romans only ~500 years before King Arthur could have lived. And if the native people (or the Welsh natives specifically who managed to mostly avoid roman subjugation to my knowledge) were to continue any types of traditions or ways of life id assume it would be that women could be druidesses/priestesses, possibly even warriors and certainly queens.

Anyway morgana being only the king's ward, "powerless" in her own castle/home, and not even allowed a chance at a throne that is her birthright, kind of doesn't make sense?

Like if Uther was trying to be sneaky and marry the half siblings to each other to solve the succession issue I guess that makes sense?? Especially having her spend so much time in the castle. But they make Morgana's swordfighting skills this novel thing, mentioned only really a few times in the whole show, mostly in season one it feels like. If she was raised with a blade as the daughter of a knight she could/should be a knight too, just like Arthur. She could be his official second in command, since her known status is lower than his, but yet higher than sat Leon's because her father was such an important knight.