#but i have many notebooks and all of them are full

[megamindsecretlair]

Said I Wouldn't, Part 1

Pairing: Dad!Terry Richmond x Virgin!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. Cursing, teasing (fem receiving), fingering (female receiving), All consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: Babysitting for Terry had its perks. You were able to see his gorgeous ass every night before heading off to your own house next door. And because he went to the gym on Wednesday nights, you had extra time to explore his room and live in your delusions. But when Terry catches you, you are unprepared for what comes next. 

Word Count: 7,608k

AO3 Link

A/N: I...am just going to be honest. I am a WEAK woman when it comes to Aaron and since he's hellbent on killing me, I may as well surrender. Need that man. That full sleeve turned me FERAL. This should be a two-parter. I also fucked around and caught a bug, ugh. Pray for me. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

“Will you marry me?” 

You gasped as you turned to Mr. Terry’s son, Troy, as he looked at you with the sweetest expression on his little face. His eyes were wide and pleading, a shy smile on his face, as he glanced at you like you hung the moon. 

Aww, how come there were no guys your age who wanted to marry you? Then again, you’d actually have to go out with someone for all that and well, you had better things to do. Like get your degree, find a better job, and actually do the whole adult thing before you brought a man into that.

You licked your lips to give yourself time to think of a proper answer. Though you didn’t know how you were supposed to navigate something like this. Mr. Terry hadn’t given you a laundry list of what was appropriate for you to handle and you were a bit out of your depth.

“That is really sweet of you to ask and you’re very brave. But I am entirely too old for you, buddy,” you said. 

Troy tucked his legs beneath him and sidled closer to you. His shoulder knocked into the coffee table disrupting his homework and you fought a smile at the eagerness in his little body. “I’ll be a great husband! I’ll open doors for you and make you chicken nuggets!” He persisted. 

See, the definition of romance. Who didn’t want their doors opened for them and chicken nuggets on demand? You put your pen down on the coffee table next to your own abandoned homework. You faced Troy and fought hard to keep the smile from your face. He was being serious so you’d respond in kind.

“That is a very tempting offer, Troy. But I’m very sorry. I have to say no,” you said.

His face crumpled but to his credit, he didn’t cry. He only scrunched up his face like he was lost in thought. He looked so much like Mr. Terry, it was frightening. 

“But you’re so pretty! Like Dad said. And you’re a good person. Dad always said to find the prettiest, smartiest, good person and marry them. Not like bad girls,” Troy said. 

“What makes a girl bad?” You asked. Out of all the things Troy said, your mind stuck on the fact that Mr. Terry thought you were pretty. It shouldn’t. It was wildly inappropriate, not to mention a cliche and a half, but…Mr. Terry was drop dead fuckin’ gorgeous. If someone like that called someone like you pretty, then…maybe…

“Dad said when they’re ma-man,” Troy said. He scrunched up his face again and then dug a small notebook from his pocket. He flipped a few pages before poking out his bottom lip. “Ma-mani-pu.” Troy sounded out the word, badly, but you knew better than to try and help him. 

“Manipulative,” Troy finally pushed out. 

You smiled and nodded your head. “That’s very good. You should stay away from those girls. In fact, the only thing on your mind should be those books you stopped paying attention to,” you said and tapped his math homework. 

“I can do both,” he said, giving you a grin. 

You chuckled. Just like his damn daddy… You rolled your eyes and tapped on his homework again. “Math homework, young man,” you said. 

Troy sighed but you could already tell this would be an uphill battle. He sat back on the floor and tucked his legs under the table to complete his homework. He was a bit too small to really manage, but he wanted to be next to you while you did yours.

You worked in silence, working on your own homework, and when Troy was finished you looked over his answers. This new way of doing math was beyond you and that was without struggling from the old way. It looked about right. Hell, Troy needed to look over your homework with how smart he was. 

“Great job, buddy. This goes straight to your backpack so you don’t lose it. And then it’s bath time,” you said.

Troy groaned, dropping his head dramatically to the coffee table. Your shoulders danced with silent laughter. What was it about kids avoiding the bath like the plague? Or maybe you were just a weird child all around. You loved taking baths and taking your Bratz dolls with you so they could go “swimming”. 

“You know, if you want to make a great husband, there’s nothing girls like more than a boy who has good hygiene,” you said. 

“Really?” Troy asked, popping his head up to look at you. “Even you?” After you nodded, Troy packed up his homework into his binder and then rushed to his room. This kid had your entire heart. You’d be sad to stop babysitting for him when Mr. Terry finally figured out what he’d do with the separation from his horrible wife. There would probably be a more permanent, vetted babysitter.

You were absolutely biased against Alivia, Mr. Terry’s wife. After moving in next door about a year ago, you had a front row seat to the awful way she treated Mr. Terry and Troy. Constantly shrieking and belittling them, no matter what they did. Keeping both virtually locked up in the house.

You could count on one hand the amount of times Mr. Terry or Troy had friends over. Or hell, a grandmother or cousin or something. When there were visitors, it was short lived. You were also witness to the screaming match when Mr. Terry finally threw her ass out of the house with nothing but a suitcase a few months back. 

How anyone could treat those two like that was beyond you. But you didn’t know all of it. Only what you were able to see and be nosy about. Since you had no real life of your own, you spent your free time making up scenarios about other people. It was fun…until Mr. Terry invited you into their world to be a babysitter.

And since then, your severe crush only grew more ridiculous. Bordering on creepy really. But you just couldn’t help it. You’d have killed to have a life like this. A stable home, a wonderful kid, and a husband who was good and provided. You didn’t think this life was perfect, no life was perfect, but dammit…you yearned. 

Troy started the bath and you stood up from behind the coffee table to stretch your legs. You fixed the deep rose colored bodycon dress you wore. Not entirely appropriate, but you skipped laundry day and who knows when you’d get another chance considering one of your roommates was a hog. 

You walked down the short hallway to the bathroom and knocked on the door. “I’m in here!” Troy called out.

“Good, make sure you wash behind your ears, please!” You said.

“I will!” Troy called back.

You had about twenty minutes before Troy would be done. So you looked around the house, knowing full well you were alone, and then snuck off to Mr. Terry’s room. Yes, you knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help it.

You managed to swipe an old T-shirt of Mr. Terry’s a month ago and so far, he hadn’t noticed. Or if he did, he just hadn’t mentioned it to you. It was the stupidest, boldest thing you’d ever done, but you couldn’t muster the energy to feel guilty about it. It was an old MCMAP shirt that you slept in nearly every night. It still smelled like him, years of his natural scent soaked into the fabric. 

You did a deep dive on Mr. Terry after that, justifying it by telling yourself that you had to know who you were dealing with. Mr. Terry found you on a babysitting app but since you were right next door and a little friendly already, he bypassed all that to pay you directly. You appreciated the extra cash, but people were sick these days. 

But every piece of information you managed to find out only made you fall in love with him that much more. He was on the freakin’ Wikipedia page, like…how could you not fall in love? You loved when people were really good at what they did. You were sure there was a name for it, but fuck if you knew it. You only knew that when someone was exceptionally good at something, it got you all hot and bothered.

Slipping into Mr. Terry’s room, you took a deep breath. This was where he laid his head at night. The rustic decor somehow fit the image you had of him in your mind. He had a dark, rustic walnut headboard that stretched to the ceiling. On it were two lamps that pointed to the bed. 

On his nightstand, he had the same historical novel he started a month or so ago. He had a simple, thin brown blanket on his neatly made up bed. That was point one in why you would never actually work with someone like him. He was too neat for your blood. He’d probably have a heart attack seeing the state of your bedroom. 

You tried, you really did, but well. You were grown enough to admit you just hated picking up after yourself. Not when you had better things to do like binge anime and go down Google rabbit holes for random things you thought about. 

His furniture was simple, functional, much like the man himself but there was something so alluring about being in a man’s personal space. And you did mean a MAN. All capital letters included. You made sure to never touch anything. You just liked getting a peek behind that stoic exterior. 

You glanced at your watch, still making good time, as you looked at the small bottles of cologne. They were nearly filled to the top so maybe he didn’t use it as much? Maybe he naturally smelled that damn delicious. 

On his dresser, he had a few pictures thrown about of Troy and Alivia. You sucked your teeth looking at the batshit woman he married. Why did guys tend to go for the crazy, loud women? Were they allergic to peace? To a quiet night at home, basking in gooey love? 

As your therapist put it, the world was not a stage and no, you couldn’t direct people’s actions. You were not that powerful. What Mr. Terry decided to do in his own bed was his own business. Speaking of…

You sat down on the edge of the bed and cast your eyes about the room. You didn’t always come in here. You weren’t that big of a pervert. Just on Wednesday nights. That was when he stopped by the gym after work. And he always came home sweaty and out of breath. If he were a bit closer, you were sure that he would jog or bike to the gym rather than taking his car.

As you sat there, you let your mind wander. What would it be like coming home to someone of his caliber? Someone able to carry a damn conversation beyond wondering what you were doing every two seconds. Someone to discuss books and themes with. Someone to binge anime with you and discuss the power scaling. Fun stuff. 

An engine pulled up outside the house and you scrambled to get out of the man’s room as quickly as possible. The car door slammed outside and your heart pounded in your chest. Okay, he was a little too early tonight. You closed the door behind you just as his keys turned the lock. You jogged to the kitchen and opened a cabinet, grabbing a cup just as Mr. Terry’s keys hit the key bowl beside the door. 

“Mr. Terry, hi,” you said, closing the cabinet door. You walked over to the fridge and poured a glass of water that you clearly needed. 

Mr. Terry walked further into the kitchen and then gave you a small smile, putting his hands into his gym shorts pockets. He wore a simple gray T-shirt soaked through with sweat and damn, damn, damn, he looked good. His arms bulged underneath the short sleeved shirt, deep veins running along his arm. Delicious. 

“Dad!” Troy barreled into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around his waist. 

“Whoa, okay,” you said and turned around with a chuckle.

“Troy, we have company. You can’t run around naked like that,” Terry said. You heard movement but refused to turn around. 

“I asked her to marry me, but she said no. But I was able to say manipulative,” Troy said, slowing down around the big word. 

“Is that right?” Terry asked.

“Uh-huh. She said girls like when boys have good hygiene. So you should probably bathe too,” Troy said.

Terry laughed and you heard wrestling. “Is that your way of saying I stink?” Mr. Terry asked.

“Well, I wasn’t going to say anything…” you chimed in, not wanting to be left out. 

“Oh that’s cold, you both got jokes. You, put some lotion and clothes on. And brush your teeth,” Mr. Terry said. 

“Good night, Troy!” You called after the little boy as he took off towards the bathroom. 

“Good night! See you tomorrow!” He yelled.

“It’s safe to turn around,” Mr. Terry said.

Naw, it really wasn’t. But you took a deep breath and turned around anyway. Somehow, the second time seeing him in all his sweaty glory was just as heart-stopping as the first time. You forgot all about your guilty activities as you openly stared at him in the kitchen.

It was by no means a small kitchen, but it felt claustrophobic standing there. As if his presence was a physical force field pressing into you from all sides. It was your stupid crush on the man that made you all tongue tied when you got around him. 

“I hope he didn’t bug too much. I know he has a big crush on you,” Mr. Terry said. 

You waved your hand. “He’ll grow out of it,” you said. They always do. But you kept that little tidbit to yourself. Though…you did want to ask about the pretty comment Troy mentioned earlier. But you were too chicken. Instead, you stood there awkwardly in this man’s kitchen for no reason. Other than to count the drops of drool pooling in your mouth.

“I should get going,” you said. Your chest was still beating rapidly and you needed to get out of his immediate vicinity. Like right now. You washed out the cup you used.

“You didn’t have to,” he said.

You giggled. “Now, what kind of guest would I be if I didn’t clean up after myself?” You could clean up for other people but when it came to yourself, you lost all motivation to do so. It was the ass-backwards manners you were brought up on, but hey. It wasn’t like anyone was coming to visit your messy bedroom anyway. 

“Let me walk you home then,” Mr. Terry said. 

“I’m just next door,” you said. You dried off the cup and replaced it in the cabinet. He stepped out of the way so that you could walk past him. His eyes tracked you as you moved through the living room, collecting your homework and pens. 

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t?” Mr. Terry asked.

“Oh, you’re a gentleman now,” you said and giggled. Did you have a flashing neon sign professing your guilt? Or did your guilt make you suspicious of everything? Because right now, it seemed like Mr. Terry was employing high level interrogation tactics, staying cool and calm while he let your guilt do the talking for you. 

“I’ve always been a gentleman,” he said. 

You could only giggle, too nervous to say anything else as you loaded up your backpack and threw on your cut off jean jacket. Terry’s mesmerizing hazel eyes followed each movement. Were you that bad at acting? Was he about to tell you that he had cameras in his room and knew exactly what you did on Wednesday nights? 

You needed to get a life and a half. Because the thought of getting caught only made it that much naughtier. Your imagination ran wild thinking of ways he could punish you for it. Preferably with a spanking. You bet those beefy hands would give a good one. 

“H-How was work?” You asked. Damn, that sounded nervous, didn’t it?

“Same old story, different day,” he said.

You nodded. You sucked at conversation so you promptly shut your trap and walked with him outside of the door. The night air was crisp, the late January night so frigid that you could see clouds of your breath escape with each exhale. Dew collected on the blades of grass outside of Mr. Terry’s house and it soaked into your flat sandals, tickling your toes.

“How’s your degree goin’?” Mr. Terry asked, breaking the silence.

“Good. Though I think one of the professors hates me,” you said. You sucked your teeth, thinking of Mr. Shoop, your English teacher. If you didn’t have a comma in the right place, he marked you down for one reason or another.

“I’m sure it’s impossible to hate you,” Mr. Terry said.

You snorted with laughter, immediately censoring yourself as you released the ugly laugh. He didn’t need to hear all that. You cleared your throat and shrugged, telling him about the latest run in with Mr. Shoop. You made one little comment about the current book you were studying in class, and now he had it in his head that you were an uppity Negro. 

“Fuck him, then. You’re supposed to challenge the status quo in college,” Mr. Terry said.

You giggled and crossed the low cement border to your own place. The grass was less green, more brittle and dead because no one in the house fucking cared about aesthetics. This was not your forever home. Once you graduated, you were getting the fuck out of here as if your pants were on fire.

“You ever go to college?” You asked.

“Naw. Enlisted as soon as I turned 18,” he said. His voice was like sweet honey in the middle of spring. It didn’t belong on this cold, quiet night in the ‘burbs. “It’s why I want Troy to focus on his grades. Make sure he has every opportunity I didn’t.”

The automatic porch light turned on bathing you both in its warm, yellow glow. It also highlighted your ugly brick porch with the mailbox half hanging off of the wall. You cringed as you climbed the steps but focused on the conversation. 

“You’re doing an amazing job with him, Mr. Terry,” you said.

He scrunched his face, most definitely like Troy, and shook his head. “It’s just Terry,” he said. 

“Yeah but –”

Mr. Terry stepped closer to you, drawing up to his full 6’3 height and looked down at you. You hoped he couldn’t hear your painful gulp.

“No buts. I’m not stepping down until you agree. We’re damn near the same age,” he said. 

You opened your mouth to argue the point but his fierce eyebrows drew down in a challenge. You reared back with a grin and Mr. Terry’s eyebrow shot up in a dare. You licked your lips and nodded. Okay, touché. 

“Terry,” you said, trying it out. It still sounded so wrong. 

“Say it again,” Terry said, his eyes drooping lower. 

“Terry,” you nearly whispered. Terry - gah, that was still so weird - leaned forward and for half a second, you thought he would kiss you. That he would plant those gorgeous pink lips on yours and kiss your sandals right off your feet. 

Instead, he chuckled and then looked down. He shook his head and then stepped back. “My job isn’t done until you’re safe inside,” he said.

“You take this pretty seriously, huh?” You asked. Stupid. Why the hell would a man like that kiss his babysitter? Probably saw you as some teenager next door, even though he was correct. You were almost the same age. But he was more mature and put together than you could ever hope to be. 

“Very seriously,” he agreed. 

You dug in your jacket pocket for your keys, the tips of your ears aflame as you continued to berate yourself. To be clear, you knew you were pretty but you got tongue tied around gorgeous men. Regular men you could deal with. They were the regular, easy pickin’s off of any vine. But Terry was like a fully baked apple pie sitting in a window somewhere. Mouth watering, steamy, and sinfully tempting.

Men like that went for super thin fashion models or apparently, screaming harpies who liked to belittle men. And just like that, you remembered that he was technically married. There was no way that an upstanding man like Terry would step out on his wife, separation or no. 

“Well, the neighborhood is safe since we have a man like you to keep watch,” you said. You turned the lock and opened the door, waving goodbye over your shoulder. Terry waved to you and then took off down the porch, clapping his hands together as he went back to his own house.

You closed and locked the door behind you, leaning your back against it as you sighed. That was entirely too close. But in your defense, he typically showed up after Troy was done with his bath. You’d have to get your snooping down to a more manageable time. 

You groaned and headed to your room, bypassing the discarded clothing on the floor and random water bottles thrown about the foyer area. Pigs. 

Living with two guys and another girl was the bane of your fucking existence. You and Gia had to put your foot down and explain that you weren’t their mothers or sisters or maids and you would not pick up after them. In rebellion, the two men, Andre and Malcolm, doubled down by not picking up after themselves either. 

So if one of them slipped on their own shirts or didn’t have clean dishes, that was on them. Money was tight as you went through grad school, but you had enough to eat out and find alternatives to cooking. To each their own in this fucking house.

You made it to your room and closed the door, turning on lights and getting ready for bed. You settled in for your third watch of Jujutsu Kaisen, sitting comfortably in Terry’s MCMAP shirt but your mind raced as you played tonight over and over in your mind. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Troy asked, the following Wednesday night. 

“Of course,” you said. 

“I like when you’re around. My dad doesn’t seem so sad,” Troy said.

Cue your heart breaking in three, two, one…you sighed and put your pen down on the coffee table. Right back in your regular seats, Troy continued with his social studies homework as if he didn’t just say the saddest thing ever. 

“What do you mean?” You asked. 

Troy stopped writing but didn’t look up from his homework. “Dad was sad a lot when Mom was here. But he smiles more when you’re around. So that means you can’t leave, okay?” He asked and looked back at you with a shy, sad smile on his face. 

“Troy, is that why you asked me to marry you? So I wouldn’t leave?” You asked. 

Troy nodded. “Plus you’re really pretty. And soooo smart,” he said.

Kids. You smiled and hugged him, bringing him closer to you. “You don’t ever have to worry about these things, okay? Your job is to do your homework and listen to your dad. I’m right next door. If you ever need anything, you come get me, okay?” You asked. 

Troy nodded but didn’t seem much convinced by your assurances. He was a kid but old enough to recognize when shit wasn’t sweet at home. With a mom like his, it was a wonder he stayed so innocent. 

You were playing fast and loose with semantics, but Troy didn’t technically ask you to keep the secret. Only if he could tell you one. You’d have to talk to Terry when he got home and make sure the man talked to his son. 

It couldn’t be easy trying to raise a kid in a broken home. The good Lord knew your own parents had a rough go of it. But Troy’s only concern should be which yogurt was in his lunchbox. Not his dad’s happiness or lack thereof. 

You helped look over his answers and helped him in the few areas he got wrong. You helped him solve the problem on his own, not just hand him the answers. “Alright buddy, bath time,” you said.

“Because girls like boys with good hygiene,” he recited.

“Exactly,” you said and nodded your head. 

Troy grabbed his homework and stuffed it into his binder. Then he turned to you with a serious expression on his face, entirely too much like his dad. He was eight. What eight year old needed to be so serious? 

“One day, I’ll be old enough to marry you,” he promised. 

You giggled. “You are going to meet the love of your life and forget all about little ole me,” you said. 

Troy shook his head and grinned. “I could never forget you.”

“You know what, you sweet talker. Bath time, now. You’re too young to think about marriage anyway,” you said with a giggle. 

Troy skipped into his room to put up his homework and then he trudged to the bathroom with a change of clothes and a fresh towel. You heard the bath water running while Troy hummed to some song you didn’t know. 

You checked your watch. After such a close call last time…you really shouldn’t. But it had become a ritual at this point. Your body compelled you to move, to go to his room and pretend for twenty minutes that he was coming home to you.

You didn’t actually want this type of domestic life but…well, who were you fooling? This was exactly what you had planned for your life. But as a nerdy, thickum Black girl with too much time on her hands, no one was exactly beating down your door for your hand in marriage. 

Let alone anything resembling sex. You’d become an expert at handling things yourself but you didn’t know what the actual act was like. And it was too embarrassing to tell grown ass men that you were a virgin and waiting on an actual connection before hopping in bed. 

Sue you, sex meant something to you. And you weren’t going to give up the cookies because some egg head batted his eyes at you and took you on one date. 

You spun around in Terry’s room trying to determine if he moved anything. Added anything. Removed anything. You just liked knowing him. Knowing a side of him that most didn’t get to see. It was what kept you going, something silly to keep your mind busy when school got too tough or the roommate situation sucked hot marbles. 

Your eyes caught on the book on his nightstand. He finally finished the historical novel. The new book he was reading was a crime novel and from the blurb on the back, it sounded pretty interesting. 

You were so caught up in the blurb and the first page, taking care not to disturb too much, that you didn’t notice Terry’s car pull up. Or his keys in the doorway, or him calling your name. You were so absorbed in it, that you dropped the book when Terry entered his room. 

“Oh,” you gasped. 

Your heart jumped to your throat as Terry smirked and tilted his head. “What are you doing in here? Where’s Troy?” He asked.

“Bath time,” you croaked out. Your throat turned dry and scratchy, pulling each word out as if it were being dragged over jagged glass. You had no good excuse for why you were in this man’s room, picking up his book, when you were supposed to be watching his son. 

What if Troy had drowned? What if he suddenly lit the house on fire? Shame made your stomach gurgle as your mind raced for any type of excuse or reason to be in his room. Babysitting 101 was watching your damn kid. 

Terry stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. You were frozen, rooted to the spot, heart beating rapidly and your fingers started to shake. What was he going to do? 

Terry walked closer until he bent down to pick up the discarded book. He flipped it over and dusted it off, being entirely too casual for your tastes. “What were you doing in here?” He asked, his voice too, too calm. 

You backed away towards the wall and shook your head. When your back collided with it, you were out of space. So you began to move to the side, sliding against the wall and trying to create some distance.

Terry turned with you, stepping in time with you, not letting you out of his sight. It was his right. It was his house after all. And you were the creepy pervert in his room. “I didn’t steal anything, I swear,” you said, your voice too small. 

“That’s not what I asked,” he said. He smirked as if this was all a funny misunderstanding. Like it was normal to find you being a creep in his room. 

“You don’t have to call the cops, I promise. I’ll leave and…I won’t come back,” you said. God, you didn’t even want to try and explain this to the cops or your family. You were completely mortified and disgusted with yourself. You knew you should have left it alone. 

“I didn’t say anything about the cops,” he said. He stepped closer to you and you smelled the sweat and overall male scent wafting off of him in waves. He wore a red shirt this time, soaked through with sweat and clinging to his well honed chest. 

He was tall as hell, looming over you whether he wanted to or not. You didn’t know this game he was playing and you just wanted to leave. You were at a loss of what to say or do. He blocked the exit with his body. There was just him. His broad shoulders, his wide chest, his hypnotizing eyes. 

“What were you doing in here?” He asked softly. 

“I just wanted to know you,” you said just as softly. It was a pathetic excuse but at least it was honest. 

“Why didn’t you ask me?” He asked.

You snorted with laughter before clicking your mouth shut. Terry’s eyebrows furrowed and he reached out to cup your cheek. You looked from his hand to his face. Was this man okay? Shouldn’t he be…angry? Upset? Confused? You’d broken his trust in the worst possible way. Got yourself plum fired over something so stupid. This wasn’t going the way you thought it would in your mind. 

“Why do you do that?” He asked. 

“Laugh?” You asked. God, you felt like an idiot. 

Terry smirked. “Stop yourself from laughing. It drives me nuts,” he said. 

“Oh,” you said. You shook your head and shrugged. “I have a weird laugh.” 

Terry leaned closer so that his nose rubbed against yours. “I keep waiting to hear it but you don’t ever let yourself laugh out loud,” he said.

You narrowed your eyes but you were slowly calming down from the threat of discovery. For the time being, it looked like Terry wasn’t going to smack you to kingdom come. This…you didn’t know what this was but you weren’t about to stop him either. This was the closest you’d ever been to him. Ever. You were going to soak up every detail before he kicked you out flat on your ass. 

“I didn’t know you were waiting to hear it,” you said. 

Terry leaned away so that he could look into your eyes. Fuck, he was so pretty. With his ever changing eyes, one of your favorite past times was trying to figure out what color they were. Sometimes they were so blue it would make the ocean jealous. Sometimes they were a stormy gray. Other times, they were a pale brown. It was insane but kept your mind busy. 

“You drive me crazy,” he said, the words slowly spilling from his lips with that subtle drawl. 

“Me?” You asked and snorted. Oh, if he only fucking knew… He drove you to distraction without even trying. One look, one sound from him and you were ready to bend over, ass up, and let him have his wicked way with you. 

“Is that surprising?” He asked. 

“Um…yeah,” you said and giggled. This was like the statue of David coming to life and asking a painting on a date. The mediums were both gorgeous but one was more lauded than the other. 

“I know I can be…serious,” Terry said. You snorted again and he tapped your nose. “But I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. Like I was some creep, you know?” He asked.

“Yeah, well. I’m the one who was in your room, being inappropriate. I completely understand if you want to fire me…”

“Troy would kill me if I did,” he said and smirked. 

You giggled. “You’d still have the right to. I am really, really sorry,” you said. 

Terry’s hand moved from your cheek, down the sides of your body before landing on your hips. You gasped, your body tingling in areas you didn’t know you could tingle. Like his hands were a live wire and your body responded in the most unusual ways. 

“You always seemed so nervous around me. I thought I scared you,” he said.

“The opposite actually,” you admitted. Hell, at this point, you might as well lay it all out. Put yourself on a silver platter, ready to be served up to Terry’s mercy. His thumbs pressed into your tummy and you gasped, shivering. 

“The way you respond…have you ever been with anyone?” He asked. 

You shook your head. You didn’t have the words to say you were a virgin. Didn’t want to be even more of a loser in his eyes. Terry cursed softly under his breath and shook his head. 

“So no one’s ever touched you? Why not?” He asked. 

You licked your lips and shrugged. “Guys just don’t like me like that.” It was the only answer you had to give. You were the in-between friend. You were the holdover friend people had before they found their forever person. Without fail, any man you were interested in went on one or two dates with you before suddenly finding the light of their fucking lives. 

After the last guy literally went to the bathroom on your date and came back with someone else’s number, you swore off any hunt for a partner. What was the point? You wasted outfit after outfit, faced disappointment after disappointment, and well, you just wanted off of the merry-go-round. 

Terry tilted his head before stepping away. He pulled you towards his dresser and made you face the mirror. He pressed in behind you and you sighed, feeling a bulge rub against your ass. 

You stared at his face in the mirror and watched as his face ran through a gauntlet of emotions. Like he was fighting with himself and losing the battle, fast. He placed his chin on your shoulder and then sighed.

“What do you see?” He asked.

“Me…and you…” You said. You weren’t trying to be a dumb ass, but it seemed like he was playing chess while you were playing Bingo. 

Terry smirked. “What do you see when you look at yourself?” 

You took a deep breath. You began to describe the features that you saw in the mirror. The way you did your hair, the way you did your makeup, the jewelry that you wore. Terry shook his head. 

“I see a sexy, beautiful woman. I see someone that drives me fuckin’ nuts. A woman that makes me want to do awful, disgusting things to,” he said.

“Ahh,” you said and shivered from the intense look in his hazel eyes. 

Terry’s hands moved up to cup your breasts over the top of your bodycon dress. You chose the burnished orange one today, once again at the mercy of Malcolm who acted like he was the only one who could use the fucking washing machine.

You moaned and bowed forward but Terry’s hands kept you upright. No one ever told you how different it was for someone to touch you as opposed to touching yourself. Everything seemed more intense, more lively, more electric. 

“And I just can’t hold myself back anymore. Tell me to stop,” Terry said. He moved his head to kiss your neck, your jaw, and behind your ear. 

You moaned, body shivering from how good he felt. How right his hands felt on your body. He pulled the top of your dress down, cupping your bare titties in his hands and pinching your nipples.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, knees getting weaker the more he tugged and pinched and pulled. Your pussy responded, throbbed, and you grew wet instantly soaking your panties. 

“Tell me to stop,” Terry said, near begging as he continued to kiss and lick on your skin. 

“I-I can’t,” you sighed. How could you tell him to stop when this was the only thing you ever wanted? The only thing you ever dreamed of? 

“If you don’t tell me to stop, we’re going to cross a line. I need you to say it, please,” Terry said. As he spoke, his hands gripped the sides of your dress and pulled until your dress pooled around your hips.

You moaned as his fingers touched your thighs, fingers digging in and massaging you. His hands moved towards your panties, cupping you over the flimsy fabric. There was a thin layer separating you from what you most wanted. 

“I can’t say it. You have to be the stronger one,” you said. He had to be. Because at this moment, there was nothing you would deny him. If he wanted a star from the Hollywood Walk of Fame, you’d be there the next day with a jackhammer and crow bar. 

Terry dropped his head to your shoulder and groaned, his fingers moving closer to the seat of your panties. “I need you to say it,” he said.

You shook your head. You leaned forward and planted your hands on the dresser top, no longer able to support yourself standing. You were absolutely weak in the knees, ready to collapse at any given moment. 

Terry’s left hand snaked around yours and grasped yours, fingers tangling. His right hand finally pushed your panties aside and he groaned, finding you soaking wet. “Fuck,” he moaned. 

“Oh my god,” you moaned. 

It was wildly different for his fingers to be there instead of your own. He moved expertly, soaking his fingers with your essence and playing with your clit. You shook violently on his fingers, too in your head to enjoy what he was doing.

“Breathe,” he whispered. 

You sucked in deep pulls of air, your breathing returning to a normal rhythm. You nodded though you were out of your mind with pleasure. With feeling. His fingers plunged into your pussy and you cried out. 

“Shh, shh,” he whispered.

Right. Right. There was an entire kid taking a bath at the moment. And here you were letting his dad play with you like a damn fiddle. You couldn’t find one ounce of regret. One ounce of shame. 

His fingers helped you find heaven, light exploding behind your eyelids as your stomach twisted and caved from the pleasure he was delivering. His left hand tightened on yours as you got closer and closer to your orgasm. 

“Fuck, fuck me. Please,” you begged. You needed to know what it felt like. Needed to know right this second what he felt like getting inside you. Your pussy was empty, aching, begging for his dick and you pushed your ass into his bulge to get him to cave. 

Terry groaned and pushed into you, pushing your hips against the edge of his dresser. He moaned as he dry humped against you, timing his wrist movements with his strokes. 

“No condom,” he panted in your ear.

“Please,” you begged. You whined, you cried. You didn’t have a fucking clue what you were saying, only that you needed that bulge inside you. NOW. 

Terry bit your ear. “I’m not gonna endanger you,” he said. 

You collapsed forward. He leaned against your back and then got down to business. Rubbing your clit in circles until you leaned up on your tip toes and bit your lip as you came, flooding his fingers with your slick as the orgasm rocked you on the spot. 

Your world quaked, cracked in half, and then was brought back together by Terry’s grunts and groans. As you came down, you panted and huffed, no energy left in your body. Terry withdrew his fingers and then brought his fingers to his mouth and suckled.

You watched him in the mirror as he closed his eyes. “Fuck,” you huffed. 

Terry winked at you as he adjusted your panties and your dress. You opened your mouth plenty of times but there were no words to be found. What could you say? What could you do? 

“Helllooooooooo,” Troy called out. He sounded as if he had been calling out for a minute. 

Terry adjusted himself and then kissed your neck. “Don’t move,” he said.

He left the room and you heard him talking to Troy. He told the boy to brush his teeth and Troy tried to argue until Terry threatened to check his toothbrush. Troy laughed and his footfalls ran back to the bathroom. 

You were still stuck in the same position you were before, hands planted on Terry’s dresser as if his command not to move had to be followed to the letter. You looked down at the pictures on his dresser, of his smiling wife and son. 

Yet somehow…fuck her. You didn’t feel any guilt fucking her man in what used to be her bedroom. You didn’t know where she was or if she was even coming back. You didn’t hold any expectations. Only that you wanted what you wanted and you weren’t going to apologize for it. If this was the only thing you got from Terry, then so be it. Because it was…life changing. 

Terry re-entered the room and closed the door behind him. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your shoulder. “We’re going to talk about this.” 

You nodded. Yes, there definitely needed to be a discussion about this. “Not tonight,” you said.

Terry tilted his head at you. “I mean…we both need to cool down and Troy needs you. We’ll talk tomorrow? When you get home?”

Terry looked as if he wanted to argue. He rubbed his goatee and sighed heavily. But he had to know you were right. The last thing you wanted to do was interrupt Troy’s routine. Doubly so now that his mom wasn’t home. God, that poor kid had enough to deal with. 

Terry nodded but turned you around to look at him. He grabbed your chin and forced you to look him in the eyes. “We’re going to talk about this. Tomorrow. When I get home.” 

You nodded. Terry pulled you close, giving you a tender, beautiful but way too quick kiss and then let you go. You gathered your nerves and then left his room, looking out for Troy. Not seeing him, you hurried over to your homework and gathered it up, stuffing it into your backpack haphazardly. 

You were ten kinds of turned around. You needed to freak out about this before you could have an adult conversation about what happened between you. Time to lock down your emotions and feelings so that when Terry gave you “that talk”, the one about how this couldn’t happen again, you would be prepared. You wouldn’t embarrass yourself by begging, screaming, throwing up for not having another chance to explore more. 

But…you said you’d be happy with this. And you would be. You so would be. This was…honestly the best outcome you never planned for. You finished and pulled on your sweater and walked towards the front door.

Terry called out to Troy that he was walking you next door and you said goodbye to Troy. The night didn’t seem quite so cold this time around. Perhaps your body was still flushed, reliving the best orgasm of your life. 

Your shoes crunched beneath your dead lawn as you hopped up the porch. Terry stopped you with a hand on your arm. He rubbed his thumb back and forth but didn’t say anything.

What was there to say? He rocked your world? He shifted your axis? Up was down and down was up thanks to the power of his fingers? His fingers. Lordy lordy. Maybe you wouldn’t survive getting fucked by him. You were glad one of you had the presence of mind to be safe and not fuck without a condom. 

“Tomorrow,” you promised.

Terry nodded and then waited for you to get inside before trudging back to his place. And no matter how many times you tried to feel bad, the only thing you could think of was his face as he moaned and his fingers buried to the knuckle in your pussy.

I just ain't slowing down any time sooooon. The Secret Terry Richmond Files

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Changing Plotlines ⭑˚💞⭑ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑠𝑡'𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑙

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, isekai

A desperate cry on your deathbed leads to you being given a fresh start at life. You're overjoyed at having finally obtained a healthy body and a real chance at living normally, only to discover that you've been transported into a yandere game, where danger lurks at every corner. Determined to protect your new life at any cost, you vow to stay as far away from the major characters of the game as possible. But things don't always go as planned.

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So far, you’d already met two of the yanderes. You weren’t entirely sure how that had happened, especially when you were so resolved to stay away from them, but given how brief your interactions had been, you were fairly certain that they would have already forgotten about you. Everything was okay. Again, as long as you made sure not to needlessly interfere with the main plot, to them, you would be nothing more than a passerby. A side character. An extra.

I never realized how stressful it would be to deliberately not stand out.

You were especially on edge because you’d been recently informed that your classes were starting soon, which meant that it was only a matter of time before the protagonist made her appearance. It was all happening a lot faster than you’d expected. You’d been hoping you would have a bigger buffer before all the shit started to go down.

But all of this was still manageable. Just avoid getting in the way of the yanderes as they sought the protagonist’s hand, and you were as good as gold.

“Going to school for a change will be fun,” you hummed aloud, taking your time as you prepared a satchel full of belongings. Just the usual school supplies. Some notebooks, pencils, pens, a knife... really, nothing out of the ordinary.

It was obviously impossible to completely push the issue of the dangerous plot out of your mind, but it wasn’t as if that was all this world had to offer. You were perfectly healthy now, something that you couldn’t have imagined in your wildest dreams. There were so many things that you would finally be able to enjoy, like the average person. Instead of focusing on the negatives, you were going to try and look forward to the positives.

A knock on the door roused you from your reverie. You turned to find Lizbell cautiously peering into the room, while holding a cup of tea on a small plate.

“Would you care for a warm beverage?” she asked you.

“Oh, yes please. Is this the same tea I had last time?”

“Why, of course. It’s your favorite, my lady.”

She smiled and walked over to hand the tea off. The “you” from this alternate game universe really was a carbon copy of who you’d been in your previous life. You had all the same interests, the same personality, even the same preferences when it came to food and drinks. It was strange how you’d been transmigrated so perfectly into a world where you’d never even existed to begin with.

You blew on the surface of the tea, then slowly took a sip.

I really am curious about how all of this even happened. Well, not that I’m complaining. It’s infinitely better than being dead.

Lizbell tilted her head, her gaze panning down to the satchel overturned on its side, with some of the objects peeking out of it. “What have you got there, my lady?”

“Hm? Ah, nothing much. Just some things to bring along with me to the academy.”

“The bag looks to be quite full,” she frowned. “You’ll strain your shoulders if you’re carrying something so heavy all day. Are you sure you need all of this?”

“Lizbell, wait—”

Before you could stop her, she’d already lifted the satchel up, and several of the items came tumbling out.

Lizbell’s expression turned to one of pure horror. “Lady [Name], what in Zodin’s name are you doing with a knife?”

“I can explain,” you began.

“No, I’m not sure you can!” she fumed. “Bringing a weapon to school? Absolutely preposterous! Not to mention that you could hurt yourself!”

“It’s, er, just in case of an emergency...?”

She grabbed the knife in a hurry. “I’m confiscating this.”

“What, no! You can’t!”

“I can, and I will.” She paused to raise her brow a hair. “Unless you’d prefer that I speak about this matter with your parents?”

You slumped your shoulders, defeated. “Ugh. Fine, take it away.”

I can just sneak another one tomorrow morning.

“And I’ll be patting you down tomorrow morning so that you don’t get any funny ideas,” she warned.

Goddammit.

“My word,” Lizbell huffed, angrily storming out the room, “you’re going to be death of me one of these days.”

You sipped at the rest of your tea, a touch irritated. Granted, bringing a knife to school probably wasn’t the best idea, but you just felt better knowing that you had some sort of weapon to protect yourself with. But the plot hadn’t even begun yet, and the yanderes didn’t begin exhibiting dangerous tendencies right off the bat, so perhaps you were jumping the gun a bit. First days at school tended to be rather boring anyways. This wasn’t a movie, or some sort of novel.

Yeah, you’d be just fine.

This is actually really exciting. I’m fangirling a bit.

It was one thing to be able to attend school normally without being crippled by your health—which you were immensely grateful for—but it was even more incredible to be able to take part in a universe that you’d once believed to be purely fictional. You’d gone from being nothing more than a player who could make a few limited choices on behalf of the protagonist, to actively participating and having complete control over your actions.

You had to admit, this situation was pretty freaking cool.

Currently, you were standing at the gates of Zodite’s finest institution, the renowned Central Academy. And boy, oh boy, was it intimidating. The colleges and universities from your previous world were arguably bigger, some of the campuses even being referred to as “tiny cities”. But what Central Academy lacked in sheer size, it more than made up for in extravagance. Seriously, you knew that you were technically rich in this world, but everything here looked so ridiculously bourgeoisie that you couldn’t help but feel out of place.

“I’m not used to being one of the elites,” you whined hopelessly. A random student passed by while you were talking to yourself, and they gave you a scathing, judgmental look. A bit rude, but you were admittedly acting a little weird right now, oohing and awing at everything you saw.

Anyways, you were here now, but you didn’t have a clue where your classes were, or how you were meant to find your way around campus. Lizbell had provided you with a list of the classes that the previous “you” of this world had apparently enrolled in, so you were just going to have to use your best judgment in finding the buildings, and then perhaps go by process of elimination. You’d never attended college before, but in the movies, everyone always got lost on their first day. Which is exactly why you’d arrived with ample time to spare.

Feeling optimistic, you walked past the front gates and officially made your way onto academy grounds. It was nowhere near as busy as what you’d expect from a modern-day college campus, but things were lively enough in their own way. Central Academy was an academy restricted specifically to the upper class, which meant that everywhere you looked, nobles of some reputable pedigree were walking about. Some were alone, others still were with friends or colleagues. You sort of wished you had a friend of your own to walk with. Close friendships were another thing you’d lacked back in your previous life. It sucked, but most people weren’t selfless enough to be tied down to someone who was sickly and frail, who couldn’t participate in most activities, especially in the so-called “golden years” of a young adult.

Maybe I can finally make a really good friend here.

You were hopeful. Unordinary circumstances aside, this was the sort of life you could only ever dream of having before. It was best to enjoy every moment.

Although you were still unsure as to where your classes were located, you couldn’t quite seem to wipe the grin plastered across your face. Today was going to be great. You were going to make it great. There was absolutely nothing that could stop you from finally enjoying the campus experience you’d always wished for.

Until you saw her. The protagonist of Zodin’s Benevolence, Flora Tillberry.

“Fuck!” you cursed aloud, immediately ducking behind a bush. You weren’t entirely sure why you were hiding, especially since she had no real reason to walk over and talk to you. It was probably your fight-or-flight mode kicking in. You instinctively knew that wherever Flora was, danger followed.

You felt a bit bad for having such a visceral reaction to Flora. After all, it wasn’t as if she was to blame for any of this, and she was so sweet and innocent-looking—cute as a button, really. If not for the unfortunate fate that awaited her, she was undoubtedly someone you would’ve liked to befriend.

But you had no choice. Avoiding her was the best way to guarantee your safety. You had to completely cast aside any potential guilt you had surrounding her unfortunate circumstances and focus purely on yourself.

If she’s here, then that means the plot has officially been set in motion.

It was okay. You’d been prepared for this from the very start. No matter what, the story would unfold just like it always did, and you would be none the wiser to it.

You held your position for a while, waiting to make sure that she left. You didn’t want to allow any accidents to occur, whether it meant her accidentally stumbling into you or even stopping to ask you for directions. As far as she was concerned, you didn’t exist.

“What on earth are you doing?”

A familiar voice. Why was that voice so familiar?

You turned, dread gradually washing over you. No fucking way. Was this seriously happening for a third time already?!

No matter how much you wanted to believe you were dreaming, there was no mistaking that it was him, Cassius. Staring down at you with heavy judgment as you hid like an idiot, with your butt sticking up in the air.

You gritted your teeth. This was seriously impossible. You were starting to believe that maybe your choices weren’t your own after all, and someone was getting a kick out of toying with your emotions.

Well, just perfect. You’d managed to avoid one of the key characters of the game and ended up running right into a different one. Actually, come to think of it, Cassius was the first yandere that Flora ever met, and their meeting took place right here, on the first day of classes. Had you unwittingly distracted him with your stupidity and prevented their crucial interaction from taking place?

If so, then... fuck.

Why am I the way that I am?

You didn’t have time to berate yourself for too long, since he was staring pointedly at you and clearly waiting for some sort of answer.

“I, uh, rolled my ankle,” you said quickly, then proceeded to grip at the ankle in question. “O-Ouch! That really hurts! Anyways, yeah... I kind of just needed to stop and take a break. It’s probably going to feel better soon though, so I should get going.”

You stood up and did a rather pathetic job of pretending to limp. Cassius didn’t look like he was buying it.

He rolled his eyes at you. “Do you take me for a fool? It seemed like you were spying on someone, what with that suspicious expression on your face. Whoever it is you’re looking out for, I’d just like to let you know that you’re doing a terrible job of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d already been discovered.”

“Thank you very much for your input,” you gritted out insincerely. “But please, don’t let me take up too much of your time. I know you’re a very busy man.”

Now, you were definitely ready to get out of here. It was okay. The situation was still salvageable. Granted, he’d caught you in a bit of an awkward position and you’d impeded his first interaction with Flora, but you were sure the plot would find some way to set itself back on track. This was really no big deal. He clearly thought you were a bit strange, but he’d walk away soon enough and think no more of it.

Except Cassius didn’t walk away. Instead, he continued to stare at you, with eyes widening as though something had just dawned on him. “Wait a second... I remember you now. You’re that same rude woman who ran into me in town that day. For crying out loud,” he sighed, shaking his head disappointedly. “Your parents must have done a terrible job of raising you, seeing as you have no manners.”

I beg your fucking pardon?

This struck a nerve with you, because even in your previous world, your parents had only ever been lovely, supportive people. They’d gone through hell because of the weak constitution you’d been cursed with, but not once had they ever taken out their frustrations on you or tried to make you feel guilty about it in any way.

You were so riled up, in fact, that without thinking it through, you snapped at him.

“Don’t speak ill of my parents,” you glared. “You have no idea how much they’ve endured.”

It only took a moment for pure, unfiltered shock to color Cassius’ expression. You blanched in turn, realizing that you’d provoked someone who was not only obsessive, but had the potential to be incredibly dangerous.

Cassius was quiet for a few moments, and when he spoke next, his cold yellow eyes were concerningly narrowed. “If I recall, you are from the [Last Name] household, correct?”

“Uh, nope,” you hastily denied. “I’ve never heard of them before.”

“What is your name?”

Play dumb. C’mon, play dumb!

“I, uh, don’t have a name.”

Not that dumb, holy fuck!

“Absolutely ridiculous,” Cassius scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “Your behavior is the very height of stupidity. No matter. I’ll find out for myself exactly who you are. The nerve you have, to talk back to me...”

He made sure to glare at you one last time for good measure, then walked away.

The second he was gone, you collapsed to your knees and began pulling at your hair.

“Why, why, why?!” you cried out. “Why me?”

Yeah, things were not good. Things were really not good. Bumping into him before was just a minor offense. He didn’t even know who you were at the time. But now he was going to be actively seeking you out with a vengeance. If only you’d kept your goddamn mouth shut. Curse you and your fondness towards your family! It was moments like these that you wished you had the sort of parents you were okay with being shit-talked.

“It’s okay,” you tried to reassure yourself, breathing shallowly. “He’s a bit pissed off, but even he wouldn’t kill someone just for talking back to him. Right? Right?”

Even if you were blowing things wildly out of proportion, you just couldn’t help it. You’d played the game. You’d seen firsthand what these maniacs were capable of.

As if the situation wasn’t shitty enough, you could also hear that same voice in your head, and they were flat-out laughing at you.

Forget what you said about first days earlier. They didn’t just suck in the movies. They sucked always.

The truth was that the rest of the day had been rather uneventful. Even following your terrible run-in with Cassius, you’d still had plenty of time to make your way around campus and find where your classes were. You actually considered calling it a day and going home to cry in bed like a baby, but you ultimately decided against it. Giving up so soon would mean setting a terrible tone for the rest of your lifetime here.

The classes themselves were perfectly fine. The content wasn’t too difficult to follow along with, especially since this was a less advanced time setting than the one you were used to, and you already had knowledge of far more sophisticated concepts, such as future scientific discoveries. Even though it was the world of a game, it still appeared to obey roughly the same laws of physics, chemistry, and biology.

The biggest difference was unarguably the presence of magic and magical ores, that helped to channel power into many different facilities. The topic of their discovery and usage was covered quite extensively in your history class. Here, you really didn’t have any previously existing knowledge, but your memory was good enough that you weren’t too worried about getting by.

All in, your scholarly aptitude wasn’t that big of a concern right now. You were frankly much more worried about having essentially become Cassius’ nemesis (although that was perhaps giving yourself too much credit).

“Welcome back, my lady,” Lizbell beamed. She was right there to greet you in the foyer when you made it back home. “How did your first day of school go?”

“Terrible,” you groaned, dragging your satchel behind you. “Just awful.”

“Oh, good heavens,” she frowned. “It couldn’t have been that bad. You’ve always been a quick learner. That’s the whole reason you wanted to attend the academy in the first place. Were the classes awfully difficult?”

“The classes were fine, but the people sure weren’t.”

“What do you mean by that?” She gasped, covering a palm over her mouth. “Don’t tell me someone was bullying you!”

“Not so much bullying, but there was a bit of a disagreement.” You pursed your lips, peering over at her cautiously. “Hey, Lizbell. Is Cassius Crowe really such a horrible person? Do you think he’ll put out a hit on me just because I argued with him a little?”

Lizbell’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head. “You got into a disagreement with Lord Cassius?!”

“Ugh. Please, your reaction isn’t helping.”

“Ahem,” she coughed, quickly regaining her composure. “My apologies. And, erm... well, he certainly isn’t very well-liked, but what do you mean by ‘put out a hit’ on you? I’m not familiar with the term.”

“What I mean is, will he chase me to the ends of the planet to ensure that I pay for my crimes? Will he capture me and string me up in town to be made an example out of?”

“Lady [Name], sometimes I really do worry about what goes inside your head.”

“That’s not an answer!” you whined.

“It should be just fine,” she reassured. “He might hold a bit of a grudge, but I’ve never heard of him doing something so drastic purely because someone displeased him. His infamous reputation may be somewhat exaggerated. He actively contributes to the academy’s research, and I’m sure he wouldn’t want to tarnish his image.”

“Let’s hope that’s the case,” you muttered.

Lizbell tried to bite back a smile. “Well, I’m sorry that you had somewhat of an unpleasant interaction, but might I just add that you really are something to behold. Not a day goes by that you don’t find yourself wrapped up in something interesting. Serving you will never get boring, that I can say with absolute confidence.”

You rolled your eyes. At least one of you was having fun.

“Don’t worry, my lady,” Lizbell said cheerfully. “I’m sure the situation sounds much worse in your head than it really is. Lord Cassius is too busy to chase after petty altercations. Quite frankly, this situation is beneath him.”

Can’t tell if that was supposed to be a diss on me or not.

“We’ll see, I guess,” you replied, still rather unconvinced.

“Oh, I know! How about I bring you some pastries to snack on? The sugar will help lift your spirits right away.”

Never one to turn down food, you nodded absently, and Lizbell bowed before leaving the room.

Mentally exhausted from the day’s ordeal, you collapsed backwards onto your bed, letting out a resounding huff. Lizbell was right, in a certain sense. There was no point in beating yourself up over it, especially when it was already in the past. You were learning to use a sword, and besides, soon enough, Cassius would have his hands full trying to win over Flora. You were the least of his concerns, really.

“How did the order go, again?” you mumbled aloud.

Cassius was the first yandere Flora met in the game. She ran into him at the academy, which was apparently meant to have happened today, and then proceeded to ask him for directions since it was her first day on campus. Naturally, Cassius was every bit as rude to her as he’d been to you. He was dismissive and haughty, both qualities that gradually softened up as he began to develop romantic feelings. Since you’d accidentally gotten in the way of their first encounter, you really had no way of knowing when or how they would actually meet. Oh, well.

Next was Lawrence. In the game, Flora met him while attending a gathering of nobles, after receiving an invitation from the villainess, who sought to humiliate her publicly. The villainess regularly bullied Flora at school, and even made her burst into tears during the party. It was afterwards that Flora would run into Lawrence, who being the superficial goody-two-shoes he was, would pretend to console her even though he could really care less.

The third yandere Flora met was Triston, son of a foreign powerhouse family, who came to stay in Zodite Kingdom as part of an ongoing business deal. A public function was held, mandating the attendance of the noble families, whereupon Triston would give a speech. Flora ran into him there, and they had a brief interaction during which they introduced themselves.

Lastly, and also by far your least favorite of all the yanderes, was Friedrich. Flora’s meeting with him was... honestly, you didn’t even want to think about it too much right now.

Anyways. You knew exactly how Flora was supposed to meet the rest of the main characters, so there was no way you were going to mess things up any further. You needed for the plot to move along smoothly, in order to make everything easier to predict. You knew that you were an anomaly, and your very presence in this world was affecting things, but your safest bet was really to let all of the love interests have their time with Flora, making sure to give them plenty of space to do so.

“Haha. You look rather troubled. Watching your interaction with that man earlier was quite amusing. It sure seems like you managed to get under his skin.”

That stupid voice again. It was another issue that was grating at you, but you were completely powerless to do anything about it.

“Stop it,” you snapped. “Cut it out. Quit spying on me.”

“Why would I? I’m having such a fun time.”

“You said I would find out who you are,” you said exasperatedly. “Well? I’m still waiting. And to be frank, I could use some good news right now.”

Just like last time, there was an unnecessarily long pause before the voice spoke again.

“Hm, no. It’s still too soon. I’m going to wait a bit longer before I answer your questions. I’m curious to see what other fun stuff you’ll get caught up in.”

You rolled your eyes. “Typical.”

Seriously, nothing was going your way today. Hopefully tomorrow would be better, but you had a nagging suspicion that wasn't going to be the case. 

More chapters are available on Quotev!

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💞 main masterlist ♡ character appearances

[rosicheeks]

gotta ask the follow up question...

What tattoo do you want to get the most?

Nooooo I want so many though 😤😤

[fingertipsmp3]

I haaate when apple pay doesn’t work and I have to type my credit card number in because now I have to actually comprehend the ways in which I am damaging myself financially

[malachitezmeyka]

Nothing like math first thing in the morning to make me feel completely stupid

[canthandlethishit]

dammit i gotta get back to tcf 💀

TCF PART 2 SPOILERS

Just hyung things (enjoying their dongsaeng's suffering)

[clockwayswrites]

Birds and wings and hope Part 13

Masterpost

Danny had thought hat if he finished with Frostbite early that he would spend a few days in the zone to catch up with some of the other ghosts. He hadn’t wanted to with the wings. It wasn’t that Danny was ashamed of the wings, not from the fact of having different features, but Frostbite had seemed certain that Danny was in a heavily mutable state right then. The more people that knew Phantom with wings, the more likely they were to stick as they cemented in consciousness and identity.

Or something like that.

Danny had a whole stack of reading tucked away in his chest to go through later.

Just wanting time alone, Danny had given himself somewhere between an hour and a day (time was hard to tell in the zone) to sulk among the sparks and dust that were long dead stars before forced himself to get a grip and go home. He was an adult for, well, him sake he guessed. He could deal with this.

The reading set on the left side of the coffee table with a fresh notebook next to it. It wouldn’t do to mix up this work with his actual work, so Danny was sure to pick out one with a green cover from the stash that he kept on hand of his favorite dot patterned paper notebooks. He’d draw a blob ghost or something on it later. A few color pens and a highlighter joined the little pile, set in a battered and chipped Amity Park tourist trap mug.

Sam had gotten it for Danny as a present due to the so hideous it was funny caricature of Phantom on it.

On the right side of the coffee table went a box of protein bars, electrolyte drinks, suck’em candies, and Danny’s well stocked pill container. He moved the coffee table a little closer to the couch, turned the TV on to a playlist of Mythbuster episodes, and made sure he had his favorite blanket in hand before he transformed back.

And fuck that hurt. Pain shot up Danny’s back, radiating up through his shoulders, and shooting along his Lichtenberg scars so intensely that they burned. Danny collapsed inelegantly onto the couch with a defeated whimper.

Maybe it was the wings? Did having a different set of limbs as a ghost cause transfered muscle aches to his human form? He didn’t even have muscles as a ghost, not really, but the mind was a very powerful thing and not even Frostbite was entirely sure of how exactly the two parts of a halfa effected each other.

After the worst of the pain had dulled slightly, Danny managed to toss back his medication (missing doses while Phantom never did him any good) and pulled the candies close enough that he could use them as a distraction for his senses. Slowly the muscle relaxant worked its magic and Danny became a boneless lump. The episodes of Mythbusters idly distracted him as he just let his thoughts drift over what Frostbite had said.

Frostbite was sure that there had to be a reason— or several— that Danny’s form had shifted into a bird and after retained the wings still. Frostbite felt the first step to this all, if Danny was determined to either control or to get an understanding of where this all was going, was to understand the subconscious or symbolic particulars of the change.

The why Frostbite felt was clear: Danny had been without a haunt for too long now. Yes, he accepted, the pollen may have certain accelerated matters (hence the full bird then and only the wings now), but Frostbite was admit that the change wouldn’t have been occurring at this stage if Phantom had still been the protector of Amity Park.

Phantom had a purpose in Amity Park. Phantom was a protector and guardian. That guardianship extended to a very limited range. Now that Amity Park was many, many years behind him and Danny was living in a place already full of its own protectors, the Phantom part of Danny was left adrift which allowed for this new stage of ghosthood.

Why couldn’t his ghost half just be happy with a nice long nap?

“Fuck you, Phantom,” Danny grumbled as he watched a car be vaporized upon impact on the screen. Idly Danny wondered if he could get an object up to that speed if he flew fast enough.

Several hours and several protein bars later, Danny was managing to sit up enough to start going through some of the reading Frostbite had sent and make notes. Two more episodes and delivered Indian food later, Danny scrawled on the top of a fresh page ‘The Subconscious & Symbolic Particulars of Wings’.

Why on earth and beyond did he have wings?

‘Flying’, Danny wrote first and then as many reasons he could think of why he loved flying from the freedom of it to space to the way that it felt to move through a cloud. ‘Freedom’ branched off into movement and escape and getting to become his own person without the weight of Amity. ‘Gravity’ and ‘Identity’ sprawled into transformation and his death and the million of ways that it had changed everything about his life.

It was hard to think about.

Danny turned the page.

‘Wings’. Wings and feathers. Birds. Pigeons and crows and ducks and robins. And Robins. Biblically accurate angels who created the cosmos. Hope. And always hope.

“‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers — ”

Hope and Robins and Bats.

And always hope.

Was Gotham his haunt?

Was he the thing with feathers?

---

AN: shhhhh I've been writing as my wind down before sleep. Also special prize for @stoiczee. I promise we'll see more batfam next part. Danny just needed some time to react!

[amourane]

kick in the right direction

pairing: football player!seungcheol x mascot!reader

genre: fluff, university au

w/c: 0.9k

summary: seungcheol is the star football player in your university but he becomes a bumbling mess in front of you.

warnings: none, you do get hit by a ball though

a/n: i have decided to start writing fics for seventeen too because i just love them way way too much <3 also disclaimer this post used to be under my old url httphannie <3

Seungcheol doesn’t know what to say. He usually has an explanation for his actions. There doesn’t seem to be anything coming to his mind when he sees you on the ground. The problem with being the star player on the football team was the amount of trust his coach put on him. As well as the thought that they needed to win every game, that wasn’t a problem though because Choi Seungcheol was a beast when he was in game mode. His aim was the best on the whole team, he’d never missed a goal. 

Obviously today was an off day.

“You’re staring, Cheol.” Jeonghan gives him a hearty slap on the back. “You really like our school mascot don’t you?” All Seungcheol can do is nod, watching as Seungkwan helps you up.

He really wants to go over and say sorry for nearly knocking you out with his kick but he can’t. Not because he doesn’t want to but because he simply can’t. It’s stupid really. Choi Seungcheol, star player of the football team, can’t say two words when he’s faced with you. He’s tried speaking to you. Once after a game, not the best choice because he’d become so nervous he spilt his water bottle all over you. Even after you told him it was fine he was still stuttering his words. Another time he’d managed to catch you walking down the hallway. The moment you smiled and said ‘hi’ his mind blanked. No words could come out of his mouth and he stood there gaping like a goldfish.

Talking to girls was easy for Seungcheol. He could give them a smile and they’d be fawning all over him. You were different. There isn’t one time he’s had a full conversation with you with nothing embarrassing happening. He’d stumble over his words or nothing would come out of his mouth. The only thing that kept him from giving up was the fact you would grin every time he came up to you and he didn’t like giving up.

“Of course I like her!” Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair. “I just don't know what to do?”

“You could ask her out.”

“I can’t!” 

His friend arches an eyebrow, clearly puzzled. "What do you mean you can't ask her out? Like you're scared, or you don't know how to, because those two are completely different things." Jeonghan's tone is gentle but probing, urging Seungcheol to confront the root of his hesitation.

“That’s not it. I’ve got everything planned out. I know what to say and I know where I want to bring her to. There’s a whole plan in my notebook, it’s coloured in and everything!”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Seungcheol fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “Whenever I go up to her to ask her out my throat closes and I can’t find the right words. Or when I try to even write my confession, my hand freezes and no letters can be written. It’s even worse because I manage to make a fool of myself whenever I’m in front of her!” He kicks the football away.

Jeonghan sighs, staring at Seungcheol as he aimed a perfect kick to the goal. The boy was completely enamoured by you. Practically the whole school knew about his crush on you. Everyone was just waiting for the day the both of you would come in hand in hand. 

//

“Y/n, oh my god! Are you okay?” Seungkwan was shaking you by your shoulders. You rub your head. That football was really hard. Who knew air could hurt you? “How many fingers am I holding up?” He waves three fingers around and your eyes struggle to adjust to his trembling hand.

“Calm down. I just got hit in the head, I don’t have a concussion or anything.” You just know there’s going to be a huge bump on your forehead tomorrow. “It’s partly Stuart’s fault.” You pat the dragon costume you had on. The fuzzy green body was heavy and the long swishy tail at the back was quite annoying to lug around.

"Why are you blaming our mascot? Stuart did nothing wrong," Seungkwan interjects, shooting a pointed glare at Seungcheol. "Star player my ass." He mutters under his breath, clearly unimpressed.

“Hey, don’t blame him. I’m sure it was an accident.” You give Seungcheol a little smile and an ‘okay’ sign to tell him everything was fine. 

“I can’t believe you like that dumbass, he can’t string two sentences together when he’s in front of you.” Seungkwan helps you up, handing you Stuart’s head. You dust off the dirt on your costume. 

What was there not to like about Choi Seungcheol? He was popular, athletic, smart and talented in everything. Not to mention he was the literal definition of eye candy. There hadn’t been many occasions where you two had met. He’d always stutter helplessly or his cheeks would resemble a fire truck, which was very endearing. It was quite funny seeing him stumble over his words whenever he tried to ask you out.

“Why don’t you just ask him out? You already know he likes you, not that he makes it the most obvious thing in the world.” 

“But isn't it just the cutest thing when he tries to ask me out but he’s a stuttering blushing mess?” You giggle when you catch sight of the pout Seungcheol has on his face. “I hope he asks me out soon though, I can’t wait to finally go on a date with him.” 

The smile you shoot at Seungcheol has him tripping over his feet, face planting into the ground. Suppressing your laughter behind your hand, you watch as he hurriedly picks himself up, only to see his teammates rolling on the floor with amusement.

“How long are you even willing to wait?”

“As long as it takes.”

[elikajinnie]

I Let The World Burn For You - N.R | Part 1

P: Serial Killer!Ni-ki X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Graphic Descriptions, Murder, Manipulation, Attempted Murder, Injury/Blood, Teasing, Angst, Obsessive Behaviour, Mind Games, Ni-ki is a nerd.

Synopsis: You’ve always loved crime shows, captivated by the mystery and mind games, but you never expected to live in one. When a killer develops an unsettling obsession with you, you’re thrust into a deadly game where you’re not just a target—you’re the centerpiece.

Wordcount: 27k

a/n: HELLO! TUMBLR!? Since i cant have more then 1k blocks i had to split this in 2 parts! LET ME WRITE LONG FICS! PLS! ugh.. (i kept replaying the apparation by sleeptoken while writing :p) hope yall enjoy another dark romance with obsessed yet super whipped Ni-ki! ( he kinda a red flag)

See request here

--

You’ve always had a fascination with crime shows. The ones without too many jump scares or unnecessary gore—you could do without that. What hooked you wasn’t the blood or the screams; it was the puzzle. The way the police pieced together scattered fragments of a life, how they followed the tiniest trail of evidence to unravel the truth. Every crime media you could find, you devoured it all.

At school, it wasn’t unusual to find you with your nose buried in a crime or mystery novel. Whether it was during lunch, in the corner of the library, or even in the few precious minutes before class started, the worn pages of your current read were always in your hands. Sherlock Holmes, Agatha Christie, modern thrillers—you read them all.

Your classmates noticed, of course. They’d whisper about it in passing, sometimes teasing you for being "obsessed with murder books." But you didn’t care. If anything, you found their reactions amusing. They didn’t get it, didn’t understand how fascinating it was to try to outsmart the characters or piece together clues before the story revealed its secrets. Even your teachers started catching on. Your literature professor once quipped, “If I ever go missing, I’ll trust you to solve the case,” while glancing at the battered mystery novel lying atop your open notebook.

But it wasn’t just about books or shows anymore. Over time, the skills you picked up seeped into your daily life. You’d notice things—details others overlooked. A friend’s new haircut no one mentioned, the faint smell of smoke lingering on someone’s jacket, or the way people’s stories didn’t quite line up. You’d trained your brain to analyze, to question, to search for answers.

You didn’t really have anyone to share your interest with, but that didn’t bother you much. Most people at school had their own cliques, their own hobbies, and their own little dramas to focus on. You didn’t fit neatly into any of those circles, but you were fine with that.

Besides, there was something satisfying about keeping to yourself. It gave you the freedom to observe without distraction. People-watching became second nature—catching snippets of conversations, noticing who avoided who in the hallways, or piecing together which classmates had paired off in secret. It was like the school was its own crime scene, full of tiny, inconsequential mysteries that no one else even thought to notice.

You had your theories about everyone, from the student council president who always left early on Thursdays to the quiet kid in the back row who seemed to have a different excuse for every missing assignment. None of it was malicious, of course—it was just your way of passing the time.

But every so often, you’d catch someone watching you. A fleeting glance from across the cafeteria or a pair of eyes lingering a little too long in the hallway.

But every time you tried to figure out who it was, the moment would pass too quickly. You’d glance up, scanning the crowd, but no one would be looking your way. It was frustrating in a way that didn’t make sense, like trying to solve a puzzle without all the pieces.

And yet, the gaze itself was never uncomfortable. It didn’t feel like the sharp, judgmental stares you were used to when people whispered about your “murder books.” No, this one was different. It was soft, almost curious, like whoever it was didn’t want to disturb you. Instead of making you uneasy, it left a warmth in its wake, a strange flutter in your chest that lingered long after the moment passed.

You started to notice it more often. In the cafeteria, during assemblies, even on the rare occasions when you’d glance up from your book in the library. It was subtle, just a sense that someone was watching, but every time you turned your head to catch them, they were gone.

It became a mystery of its own, one you couldn’t quite let go of. You tried to piece it together the way you would in a show or a novel. Who sat near you at lunch? Who crossed paths with you between classes? Who could have that kind of presence without you noticing until it was too late?

But no matter how much you thought about it, you came up empty. And the strangest part was, you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to solve it. Because, in some inexplicable way, that gaze felt… safe. Like someone had taken the time to notice you—not as the “girl with the crime books,” but as you.

Still, the curiosity gnawed at you. One day, as you sat in your usual spot by the library window, lost in a particularly tense chapter of your latest read, you felt it again. That quiet, steady gaze, warm and unhurried.

This time, you didn’t look up right away. Instead, you waited, letting the feeling settle over you like a blanket. You turned the page of your book slowly, pretending to stay engrossed, all while your pulse quickened in anticipation.

And then, with deliberate calm, you lifted your head and scanned the room.

At first, it seemed like every other time. Just a sea of faces, none of them focused on you. But then, in the far corner, you caught it—a pair of eyes meeting yours before quickly looking away.

Your heart stuttered. You knew that face.

You knew that face because it belonged to Nishimura Ni-ki. Quiet, unassuming, always with his head buried in a textbook or his notebook. You hadn’t talked much, only exchanging a few words in the classes you shared or the brief, awkward apologies after he accidentally bumped into you in the hallway, scrambling to pick up his scattered books. He wasn’t exactly invisible, but he never drew attention to himself—not in the way others did.

But you also knew him for another reason. Nishimura Ni-ki was the campus prime target for bullying.

You hated seeing it. The way some of the guys would shove him into lockers, muttering cruel things under their breath loud enough for him to hear. The way others would snatch his things, throw them across the hall, or crumple his assignments into balls of paper. Worst of all was the day you saw someone snap his glasses clean in half, right in front of him, leaving him standing there, helpless and humiliated.

Without even thinking, you had stepped in. No hesitation, no second thought—you just swung. Your fist connected with the guy’s face, the sickening crack of his nose breaking echoing in the hallway. Everything had gone silent. People stared as you shook out your knuckles, glaring down at the guy as he clutched his face, blood pouring between his fingers.

Sure, you got suspended for a few days after that, but it had been worth it.

From that day on, you’d kept an eye out—not just for Ni-ki, but for anyone being harassed. You couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand the way some people seemed to think they had a right to make others miserable just because they could. But with Ni-ki, it was different. Something about the way he’d looked at you that day—wide-eyed, stunned, like he couldn’t quite believe someone had stood up for him—it stuck with you.

After that, you noticed him more often. Sitting alone in the library, his hair falling into his eyes as he scribbled notes. Walking to class with his close-knit group of friends, smiling faintly at something one of them said. And now, you realized, he was quietly watching you.

Your stomach flipped as your eyes locked with his for the briefest moment before he quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the open book in front of him. You hadn’t even realized he knew who you were, let alone that he’d been the one watching you all this time.

For a moment, you sat frozen, unsure what to do. Then, on impulse, you stood up, tucking your book under your arm as you made your way across the library.

Ni-ki didn’t notice you at first. He was scribbling something in the margins of his notebook, his brows furrowed in concentration. But when you stopped in front of his table, he glanced up, and his eyes widened.

“Hey,” you said, keeping your voice low to avoid disturbing the others. “Got room for one more?”

His gaze darted to the empty chair across from him, then back to you. For a moment, he looked like he might say no. But then he nodded, his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smile.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice quiet but steady. “Sure.”

You slid into the seat, setting your book down on the table. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you like an unspoken question. But it wasn’t awkward. If anything, it felt… comfortable.

You sat there for a while, the silence punctuated only by the faint scratch of Ni-ki’s pencil against his notebook and the soft rustle of turning pages. But your curiosity wouldn’t let you sit still for long. You closed your book, leaning forward slightly.

“Can I ask you something?” you said, keeping your voice low.

Ni-ki looked up from his notes, his pencil pausing mid-word. His expression was cautious, unsure, but he nodded. “Yeah?”

“Why were you looking at me earlier?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. “It’s not the first time, is it?”

His eyes widened, and a faint flush crept up his neck. “Oh, I—uh…” He trailed off, fumbling for words. For a moment, you thought he might brush it off or deny it entirely. But then he exhaled and gave a small, sheepish shrug. “I’ve seen you reading crime novels. A lot. And… I like them too.”

You blinked, surprised. “You do?”

He nodded, glancing down at his notebook like he was embarrassed to admit it. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t talk about it much, but I’ve always been into them. Mysteries, thrillers, true crime… all of it. I guess I just noticed because you’re always reading them too.”

A grin spread across your face before you could stop it. “Seriously? I didn’t think anyone else here cared about that stuff.”

Ni-ki’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Yeah, well… it’s not exactly the kind of thing people talk about, you know? But I’ve always thought it was cool—how detectives figure everything out, all the little clues coming together.”

“Exactly!” you said, leaning forward a little more, your excitement bubbling over. “That’s the best part. Like, the story’s great and all, but the process of solving it? The way everything clicks in the end? It’s so satisfying.”

His smile widened, and for the first time, he looked genuinely at ease. “Right? And when you figure it out before the characters do? That’s the best feeling.”

You nodded eagerly, the conversation flowing effortlessly now. You started swapping favorite books and shows, debating the best fictional detectives and the most clever twists you’d seen. Ni-ki talked about his love for true crime documentaries, how he’d binge-watch them whenever he had a free weekend. You shared your obsession with whodunits, confessing how you’d pause episodes just to try to solve the case before the big reveal.

Time slipped by without you realizing it. The library around you faded into the background as you talked, your usual quiet demeanor replaced by the spark of shared enthusiasm. Ni-ki was surprisingly easy to talk to, his reserved nature melting away as the two of you bonded over your mutual love for crime stories.

At some point, you glanced at the clock and realized lunch was almost over. You sighed, reluctantly closing your book. “Guess we’ll have to pick this up later. I’ve got class.”

Ni-ki nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—disappointment, maybe? It was subtle, but you caught it.

“Hey,” you said as you stood, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “We should talk more about this sometime. Maybe… tomorrow?”

His gaze snapped up to yours, and for a moment, he just stared at you, like he couldn’t quite believe you were serious. Then he nodded, his smile small but genuine. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

You grinned and gave him a quick wave before heading toward the door.

The rest of the day felt oddly brighter. You couldn’t quite put your finger on why, but something about that conversation with Ni-ki lingered with you. Maybe it was because you’d finally found someone who shared your interest, someone who didn’t just dismiss it as “weird” or “creepy.” Or maybe it was because, for the first time, Ni-ki hadn’t seemed like the quiet, distant figure you’d always known him as. He felt… real.

The next day, you found yourself scanning the library during lunch without even thinking about it. And sure enough, there he was—sitting at the same table, his notebook open in front of him, scribbling something in his neat handwriting.

You hesitated for a moment, suddenly feeling a little nervous. What if he thought yesterday was a one-time thing? What if he wasn’t expecting you to actually show up? But then he looked up, and the moment his eyes met yours, his face lit up with a small but unmistakable smile.

That was all the invitation you needed. You crossed the room and slid into the seat across from him, setting your bag down beside you.

“Hey,” you said, trying to sound casual.

“Hey,” he replied, his tone soft but warm.

It didn’t take long for the conversation to pick up where you’d left off. You talked about the book you were reading, how the protagonist was struggling to crack a seemingly unsolvable case. Ni-ki listened intently, occasionally chiming in with his own thoughts or theories. When it was his turn, he shared about a true crime documentary he’d started the night before.

As the days went by, it became a routine. Every lunch break, you’d find each other in the library, your conversations growing longer and more animated. What started as casual chats about crime novels and documentaries quickly expanded into other topics—favorite genres, books you’d loved as kids, even the little quirks you’d noticed about your classmates.

Ni-ki opened up more than you ever expected. You learned that he loved puzzles, that he had a knack for spotting patterns and solving problems. He admitted, almost shyly, that he wanted to be a forensic scientist someday, to solve real-life mysteries.

You told him about your fascination with detective work, how you’d always loved the idea of uncovering the truth. You joked that maybe you’d end up as a detective yourself one day, solving cases while he analyzed the evidence. He laughed at that, a soft, genuine sound that you realized you wanted to hear more of.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

You looked up, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Yeah?”

“I just… I wanted to say thanks,” he said, not quite meeting your eyes. “For, you know… sticking up for me. Back then. And now.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Ni-ki. No one deserves to be treated like that.”

He nodded, his fingers fidgeting with the strap of his bag. “I know, but… it meant a lot. And so does this. Talking to you, I mean. It’s… nice.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest, the same kind you’d felt every time you caught him watching you. “It’s nice for me too,” you admitted, offering him a small smile.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression soft and almost… hopeful. Then he nodded, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asked.

“Of course,” you said, already looking forward to it.

--

You and Ni-ki walked side by side down the hallway, the buzz of students heading to their next class filling the air. He was carrying a few books in his arms, his notebook precariously balanced on top, while the two of you chatted about your plans for the day.

“I’ve got a project due for history,” you said, groaning. “I’ll probably be stuck in the library all afternoon. What about you?”

“Studying for the calculus test,” Ni-ki replied with a faint smile. “Though, knowing me, I’ll still probably bomb it.”

“You won’t,” you assured him. “You just need to stop doubting yourself so much.”

He chuckled softly at that, and the sound was warm—genuine. You had started to notice these little things about him, the way he opened up a bit more when it was just the two of you.

As you reached your classroom door, you slowed to a stop, turning to face him. “Alright, this is me. I’ll see you at lunch later?”

“Yeah, I’ll—”

Before Ni-ki could finish his sentence, someone shoved him hard from behind. He stumbled forward, dropping his books as he fell onto his knees. His notebook skidded across the floor, pages fluttering.

“Oops,” the voice sneered mockingly from behind. “Didn’t see you there, nerd.”

You whipped around, your blood instantly boiling. It was one of the usual suspects—one of the guys who seemed to make it his personal mission to make Ni-ki’s life miserable. His smug smirk widened as he stood there, hands in his pockets, his posture radiating mock innocence.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you snapped, your voice echoing in the hallway.

The guy raised an eyebrow, shrugging nonchalantly. “Relax, it was an accident.”

“Accident, my ass,” you shot back, stepping forward. “You’ve got the brainpower of a rock, but even you know how to avoid people in a hallway.”

A few students nearby paused to watch, their conversations trailing off as they sensed the tension.

The guy’s smirk faltered for a second, his eyes narrowing. “Watch your mouth.”

“Or what?” you challenged, crossing your arms. “You’ll try to push me too? Let’s see how far you get.”

He opened his mouth, likely to hurl an insult your way, but before he could get the words out, a stern voice interrupted.

“Is there a problem here?”

A teacher had appeared at the end of the hallway, arms crossed, eyes flicking between you, Ni-ki, and the bully.

The guy immediately straightened, his smugness replaced with a fake innocence. “No problem, sir. Just a little accident.”

The teacher’s eyes lingered on him for a moment, skeptical but unwilling to escalate without proof. “Then I suggest you keep moving before you’re late to class.”

The bully muttered something under his breath and stalked off, throwing one last glare over his shoulder. You glared right back until he disappeared into the crowd.

With the hallway clearing, you turned back to Ni-ki, who was still on the ground, gathering his books with a quiet, resigned expression. You knelt down beside him, helping him scoop up his notebook and a few loose papers.

“You okay?” you asked softly, handing him the last of his things.

He nodded, though his cheeks were flushed, not from the fall but from the embarrassment of it all. “Yeah. Thanks.”

You stood and offered him your hand. He hesitated for a moment before taking it, and you pulled him to his feet.

“Don’t let jerks like that get to you,” you said firmly, your voice softer now. “He’s just miserable with his own life, so he’s trying to make you feel the same way. But he doesn’t get to win.”

Ni-ki’s lips twitched into the smallest of smiles as he adjusted the books in his arms. “I’m starting to think you like fighting my battles more than I do.”

You laughed, nudging his arm lightly. “Someone’s gotta have your back.”

The bell rang just as you and Ni-ki made your way to your separate classes.

You sank into your seat, the dull buzz of the classroom settling around you as your mind wandered back to what had just happened. You hated seeing that side of Ni-ki dimmed by people who had nothing better to do than pick on someone who kept to himself.

Your teacher walked in, and the usual routine of class began. You tried to focus, taking notes, participating when necessary, but it was hard to shake off the image of Ni-ki being knocked down again. Even harder, was knowing that no matter how much you tried to defend him, the cycle would probably continue.

It wasn’t that you didn’t understand the way people like that bully operated—people who picked on others because they could, because it was easier to tear someone else down than deal with their own problems. What pissed you off was that Ni-ki never seemed to ask for help. He didn’t fight back, didn’t make a scene, and kept everything buried under that quiet, almost invisible demeanor of his.

You didn’t know why you cared so much. Maybe it was because he was finally someone who shared your interests, someone who didn’t see you as weird or obsessive for reading crime novels or binge-watching shows about detectives. Or maybe it was because, for the first time in a long while, you found someone you didn’t mind looking out for.

The rest of class passed by in a blur, and when the bell rang again, signaling the end of the period, you packed up your things quickly, eager to catch up with Ni-ki.

You hadn’t seen him on your way out, but he wasn’t hard to find. When you stepped out into the hall, you spotted him near his locker, his back slightly hunched as he rifled through his bag. He looked like he was in his own world, eyes focused on something only he could see.

You walked up to him, your footsteps steady.

“You good?” you asked, breaking the silence.

Ni-ki turned slightly, startled for a moment. When he saw it was you, the tension in his shoulders visibly loosened. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, his voice soft but steady. “Thanks again for earlier. You didn’t have to do that.”

You shrugged, trying to downplay it. “It’s not a big deal. He’s just a jerk. Besides, if no one stands up for you, who will?”

Ni-ki didn’t answer right away. He just stared at you for a moment, as if weighing your words. After a long pause, he gave a small, almost shy smile. “I guess… I’ve never really thought about it like that.”

“Well, now you know,” you said with a grin. “If you ever need backup, I’m around.” You tried to keep your tone light, but there was a quiet sincerity in it.

Ni-ki nodded, his expression softening, as if he were grateful, but unsure how to show it. “Thanks. I… I appreciate it.”

The bell rang, signaling the start of the next class, and you both turned to head in opposite directions. You glanced back at him before walking away, feeling that familiar pull of wanting to make sure he was okay.

Over the next few days, you found yourself in more and more situations where people were picking on Ni-ki, or even just others around campus. It wasn’t always the same faces; sometimes it was a random group, sometimes it was a repeat offender. But every time, you couldn’t just walk by.

One afternoon, you were heading toward the library when you spotted a couple of guys standing by the lockers. One of them had his hands shoved into Ni-ki’s chest, laughing as he made some cruel remark about Ni-ki’s glasses being too big for his face. Ni-ki’s eyes were lowered, his shoulders tense, his voice barely a whisper as he tried to back away, but the guys weren’t letting him go.

Without thinking, you rushed forward, your heart pounding in your chest. “Hey!” you called out, your voice cutting through the laughter. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

The guys turned to face you, their expressions mocking. “Oh, look, it’s the weird kid who’s always reading those detective books,” one of them sneered. “What, you gonna cry for him too?”

You didn’t flinch. “I’ll cry if it means you get a reality check. You think picking on people makes you cool? It doesn’t.”

The bully smirked, stepping closer. “Maybe you should mind your own business, huh? No one cares what you think.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” you snapped, standing your ground. “I do care. And I don’t let people get away with treating others like crap. So if you’ve got a problem with him, you’ve got a problem with me.” You took a step forward, matching his arrogance with a calm confidence. “Go ahead, say something back. I dare you.”

The guy’s face twisted in frustration, but before he could retort, another voice interrupted.

“Is there a problem here?” A teacher had appeared, walking briskly down the hall with an authoritative presence.

The bully shot one last glance at you, a sneer still hanging on his lips, before muttering, “Whatever, it’s just a joke.”

“Then keep your ‘jokes’ to yourself,” you said, watching as he slinked off with his friend in tow.

As the tension cleared, you turned to Ni-ki, who was standing there, still looking a little shell-shocked. He didn’t speak for a moment, just staring at you like you had just pulled him out of the depths of something he didn’t know how to escape.

“You alright?” you asked quietly, your voice softer now.

Ni-ki nodded slowly, though he still looked like he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. “I—I’m fine. Thanks again. But you really didn’t have to do that.”

“I did,” you said, giving him a smile. “I don’t let people get away with stuff like that. You deserve better than being treated like that, and so does everyone else.”

Ni-ki’s eyes met yours for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind them before he spoke. “Maybe… maybe I don’t know how to stand up for myself the way you do.”

“That’s alright,” you said with a shrug. “Not everyone does. But it’s not too late to start.”

As the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, you both began walking toward your next classes. You could feel his presence beside you, his quiet thanks still lingering in the air, but it didn’t feel awkward. You had his back, and that was what mattered.

You didn’t always receive praise for standing up to people. You didn’t always get the support you might’ve hoped for. Sometimes you’d get the sneers and judgment from those who didn’t understand, those who thought that letting things slide or keeping their heads down was the easier way to go.

But you didn’t care.

You didn’t care about the sideways glances, or the occasional whispered insults behind your back. You couldn’t stand by and do nothing.

And if that meant dealing with the backlash, so be it. You’d rather face that than let someone else feel alone.

A few days later, you woke up feeling off—head throbbing, throat scratchy, and your body aching like you'd been hit by a truck. You groaned, pulling yourself out of bed only to immediately collapse back under the covers. The thought of going to school was unbearable, and you knew you needed rest more than anything else.

The absence of the usual noise from school made everything feel stiller, emptier. It was a strange feeling, knowing you wouldn’t be there to keep an eye out for Ni-ki, to have his back in the way you had grown accustomed to.

That afternoon, the day passed slowly, and you spent most of it in and out of sleep. When you checked your phone again later, you saw that Ni-ki had sent another message: "Is everything okay? Haven't seen you today."

You smiled at his concern, typing back, "Yeah, just sick. I'll be back soon, don’t worry."

The next few days were rougher than you’d expected. What you thought was just a mild bug turned into a fever that left you bedridden. You tried to keep up with school through messages from classmates and the occasional email from teachers, but your energy was practically nonexistent.

Ni-ki checked in on you every day, like clockwork. His texts were short and to the point, but they carried a warmth that made you smile despite your pounding headache.

"Feeling any better today?" "Don’t push yourself, okay?" "I can drop off notes if you need them."

You’d chuckle at the last one, imagining Ni-ki walking up to your door with a stack of papers and books. "Thanks, but I’ll survive. Just focus on yourself," you’d reply, even though you appreciated the thought more than you could express.

Despite his reassurances that everything was fine, you couldn’t help but worry. Ni-ki wasn’t exactly the type to tell you if something was wrong, especially when it came to the bullies. The thought of him being alone, enduring their usual torment without you there to step in, gnawed at the edges of your mind.

By the third day, your fever started to break, and you felt well enough to sit up and respond to messages without immediately passing out. You sent Ni-ki a text: "How’s school been?"

A few minutes passed before his reply came in. "Same as always. Don’t worry about me."

You frowned. That was exactly the kind of response you’d been expecting—and dreading.

"You sure? No one’s bothering you?"

The three little dots indicating he was typing popped up, then disappeared, then reappeared again. Finally, he sent: "I’m fine. Just come back soon, okay?"

You stared at the screen for a long moment, conflicted. On one hand, you knew Ni-ki well enough by now to recognize when he wasn’t telling you the whole truth. On the other hand, pushing him for answers over text wouldn’t get you anywhere.

"I will," you typed back. "Just hang in there."

When you finally returned to school a few days later, you felt a strange mixture of relief and unease. As much as you hated being away, a small part of you worried about what you’d find when you got back.

Walking through the hallways felt like stepping into a space that had shifted slightly in your absence. You noticed the usual groups clustered together, their laughter echoing through the halls. But as your eyes scanned the crowd, you couldn’t find Ni-ki anywhere.

When you reached your locker, you spotted one of his friends—someone you’d occasionally seen him study with. You hesitated before calling out, “Hey, have you seen Ni-ki?”

The guy looked up, his face shadowed with something you couldn’t quite place. “He’s in the library,” he said after a moment. “He’s been there a lot lately.”

You nodded, thanking him before heading in that direction. The library was quieter than usual, the muffled hum of voices and the faint rustle of pages filling the air. It didn’t take long to spot Ni-ki, sitting at a table in the far corner, his head down as he scribbled something into a notebook.

“Ni-ki,” you called softly as you approached.

He looked up, and for a split second, relief flashed across his face. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual reserved expression. “Hey,” he said, closing his notebook and sitting up straighter. “You’re back.”

“I am,” you said, pulling out a chair and sitting across from him. “What’s been going on? And don’t say ‘nothing,’ because I know that’s not true.”

Ni-ki hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the corner of his notebook. “It’s… not a big deal,” he finally said, his voice low. “Just the usual stuff.”

Your jaw tightened. You’d expected as much, but hearing it still made your blood boil. “What happened?”

He sighed, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “They’ve just been… pushing things a little more since you weren’t here. It’s fine, though. I’m used to it.”

“Used to it doesn’t make it okay,” you said firmly. “Did anyone step in? Tell a teacher? Anything?”

Ni-ki shook his head. “No one really noticed. Or if they did, they didn’t care.”

Your fists clenched under the table. It was exactly what you’d feared, and it only made you more determined. “Well, I’m back now,” you said, your voice steady. “And they’re not getting away with it anymore. Not while I’m around.”

Ni-ki looked at you, a flicker of something—gratitude, maybe—crossing his face. “You don’t have to keep doing this, you know,” he said quietly. “Standing up for me all the time. It’s not your responsibility.”

“It’s not about responsibility,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “I want to stand up. And no one deserves to feel like they’re alone in this.”

“Thanks,” Ni-ki said eventually, his voice barely above a whisper.

You gave him a small smile. “Anytime.”

--

It started out subtly—so subtle, in fact, that you almost missed it the first few times. You’d grown so used to being the one to step in, to speak up, to push back when people crossed the line with Ni-ki, that it became instinctive. But recently, before you could even open your mouth or move to intervene, something in Ni-ki’s demeanor had started to change.

The next time someone shoved him in the hallway, you caught it. The twist in his face.

It wasn’t the usual resignation or silent frustration you’d seen before. No, this was different. His jaw tightened, his eyes sharp and focused, his posture just a fraction straighter. He still stumbled when they shoved him, still dropped his books, but there was a flicker of defiance there—a spark you hadn’t noticed before.

“Watch where you’re going, idiot,” one of the bullies muttered, smirking as they turned to walk off.

But before you could even step in, Ni-ki straightened up, brushing himself off. His voice was quiet but firm as he said, “Maybe you should watch where you’re going.”

It wasn’t loud, and it certainly wasn’t a full-on confrontation, but it was enough to make the bully pause for a moment, glancing back over their shoulder with narrowed eyes. Ni-ki didn’t flinch. He just stared at them, steady and unyielding, until they scoffed and walked away.

You stood frozen for a moment, caught off guard. This wasn’t like him—not the Ni-ki you’d grown used to protecting, the one who usually avoided confrontation at all costs.

“Ni-ki,” you said, catching up to him as he bent down to pick up his books. “What was that?”

He glanced up at you, his expression unreadable. “What was what?”

“That,” you said, gesturing vaguely toward the hallway where the bullies had just left. “You… you stood up for yourself.”

He shrugged, tucking his books under his arm. “Yeah, well… I figured I might as well try it.”

You blinked, surprised by how nonchalant he sounded. “Try it?”

He paused, glancing at you with a small, almost shy smile. “I’ve been watching you, you know. How you don’t let people push you—or anyone else—around. It made me think… maybe I could do that too.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. You felt a strange mix of pride and worry bubbling in your chest. Pride, because seeing Ni-ki finally stand up for himself felt like a victory. Worry, because you knew how cruel people could be when they were challenged.

“Well,” you said finally, your voice soft, “I’m glad you’re trying. But you know you don’t have to do it alone, right? I’ve got your back.”

He nodded, his smile growing a little. “I know. But… it feels kind of good. Not letting them have all the power.”

From that day on, you started noticing it more often.

The next time someone muttered something cruel under their breath as Ni-ki walked past, he didn’t just look away. He turned, his voice steady as he asked, “What did you just say?” It wasn’t a shout, wasn’t a threat, but the sheer confidence in his tone was enough to catch them off guard.

And the next time someone knocked his books out of his hands, Ni-ki didn’t just bend down to pick them up. He straightened up first, meeting their gaze with an icy calmness that made them hesitate before walking off.

You watched it all unfold with a mixture of admiration and concern.

One afternoon, after class, you found yourself walking with him again, the two of you deep in conversation about one of the crime novels you’d both been reading. As you turned the corner, you saw one of the usual suspects—one of the guys who’d made Ni-ki’s life a nightmare for as long as you could remember.

The guy stepped into Ni-ki’s path, blocking his way. “Hey, got a minute?”

You tensed immediately, ready to step forward, but Ni-ki held up a hand, stopping you.

“What do you want?” Ni-ki asked, his voice calm but firm.

The bully smirked, leaning in closer. “Just wondering how long it’ll take before you crawl back into that little shell of yours. You think you’re tough now? That you’ve got people to back you up?”

Ni-ki didn’t even blink. “I think you’re wasting your time. Find someone else to bother.”

The smirk faltered for just a second, and that was all it took. The bully muttered something under his breath before walking away, clearly annoyed that Ni-ki hadn’t given him the reaction he was hoping for.

As soon as the guy was out of earshot, you turned to Ni-ki, your eyes wide. “Okay, what was that? Who are you, and what have you done with the Ni-ki I know?”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I told you, I’ve been watching you. Guess I finally got tired of being the guy everyone picks on.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your chest swelling with pride. “Well, I’m glad you’re finding your voice. Just… don’t get yourself in too much trouble, okay?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, his smile soft but confident. “I know you’ll be there to save me if I do.”

You chuckled at his confidence, feeling that familiar warmth bubble up inside you. “Of course,” you replied. “But remember, you don’t have to rely on me all the time. You’ve got this, Ni-ki.”

He met your gaze, his eyes bright with something that looked almost like gratitude, but with a touch of pride as well. “Maybe. But it feels good knowing I’ve got someone watching my back.”

You nodded, feeling your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just about protecting him anymore—it was about seeing him stand up for himself, to fight back against the people who tried to bring him down. And even though you still couldn’t shake the worry that the bullies would target him more now, you had a feeling that Ni-ki would be okay.

The days that followed were a mix of small victories. You’d catch glimpses of him, the way his posture had changed, the confidence in the way he carried himself. Even when the bullies tried to get under his skin, he seemed to hold his own. And when they tried to escalate things, Ni-ki would either meet them with sharp words or simply walk away with his head held high, no longer letting their insults stick to him.

--

The day started like any other—until you got to school.

The usual buzz of the morning crowd was replaced with an eerie silence. Police cars lined the front of the building, their lights casting flashes of red and blue against the gray morning sky. Students clustered in small groups near the gate, whispering to each other, their faces pale with unease.

You tightened your grip on your bag as you stepped closer, curiosity gnawing at you. Something had happened—something big.

Spotting Natty near the lockers, you hurried over, catching her arm gently. “What’s going on? Why are the police here?”

Natty turned, her expression somber and anxious. “You didn’t hear?”

You shook your head, your stomach twisting. “No. What happened?”

She glanced around nervously before leaning in closer. “Two students have been reported missing,” she said in a low voice.

Your heart skipped a beat. “Missing? Who?”

Natty hesitated, her voice dropping even lower. “It’s those two guys… you know, the ones who usually mess with people. The ones who—”

“The ones who pick on people” you finished for her, your voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, her expression grim. “Yeah. Them. Apparently, they didn’t come home last night. Their parents called the school this morning, and now the police are involved.”

You stood there, processing her words. The two bullies—known for tormenting Ni-ki and plenty of other students—were missing? The news left you unsettled, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest.

“What do you think happened to them?” you asked, your voice cautious.

Natty shrugged, glancing over at the police officers. “I don’t know. Everyone’s talking about it, but no one seems to know anything for sure. Some people are saying they might’ve run away, but…” She trailed off, biting her lip.

“But?”

She leaned in closer, her voice barely audible now. “But people are also saying it doesn’t feel like that. They’re saying it’s... suspicious.”

You frowned, your mind racing. Suspicious. The word lingered in your thoughts like a dark cloud. You couldn’t help but think about Ni-ki—the way he’d started standing up for himself, the way the bullies had been pushing back harder in recent weeks. And now, suddenly, they were gone?

“Do they have any leads?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Natty shook her head. “Not that I’ve heard. The police are just starting their investigation.”

You glanced around, your eyes scanning the crowd. Your thoughts immediately went to Ni-ki. Had he heard about this yet? How was he feeling? You knew the bullies had made his life miserable, but even so, this was… extreme.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” you said, already stepping away.

Natty called after you, “Where are you going?”

“To check on someone,” you replied over your shoulder, your mind set on finding Ni-ki.

You searched the usual spots—the bench near the library, the quiet corner by the art room—but he was nowhere to be found. Finally, you spotted him by the vending machines, standing alone with his hands in his pockets.

“Ni-ki,” you called softly as you approached.

He looked up, his expression unreadable. “Hey.”

“Did you hear?” you asked, lowering your voice.

He nodded, his gaze dropping again. “Yeah. Everyone’s talking about it.”

You studied him for a moment, trying to gauge his emotions. He didn’t look shocked or upset—just… thoughtful.

“How are you feeling about it?” you asked gently.

He shrugged, his voice quiet. “I don’t know. It’s... weird. They were horrible to everyone, but this? It’s… I don’t know.”

You nodded, understanding the conflict in his tone.

“They’ll figure it out,” you said, more to reassure yourself than him. “The police are here, and they’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Ni-ki glanced at you, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah. I guess.”

You walked side by side with Ni-ki, the buzz of conversations and murmurs about the missing students fading into the background. He didn’t seem as unsettled as you would’ve expected. In fact, he looked… composed. Too composed. There was a calmness about him, a quiet confidence that hadn’t been there before.

It wasn’t like he didn’t care—at least, you didn’t think so. But he wasn’t fidgeting or avoiding the topic like you might have imagined. Instead, he walked with his head held high, his steps deliberate.

You glanced at him, trying to gauge his mood. “You seem… okay about all this,” you said carefully, not wanting to come off as accusing.

Ni-ki shrugged, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” you said, tilting your head. “It’s just… two people are missing. People who used to make your life hell, and you don’t look… bothered.”

He stopped walking for a moment, turning to face you. His lips curved into the faintest smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Should I be?”

The question caught you off guard. You blinked, unsure how to respond. “Well, I mean… it’s weird, right? They’re still people. Even if they were awful, it’s not like they deserved to… you know, vanish.”

Ni-ki held your gaze for a moment longer before looking away, his expression unreadable. “I guess I’ve just learned not to waste my energy on people like them,” he said, his voice steady. “They made their choices. It’s not my job to care.”

You frowned, his words sticking with you as you both continued walking. There was something about the way he spoke—calm, measured, almost detached—that made you uneasy. But you didn’t push him further. Ni-ki had grown a lot lately, standing up for himself in ways you hadn’t expected. Maybe this was just part of that change—his way of not letting the past hold power over him anymore.

Still, you couldn’t help but notice how his posture seemed different now. Straighter, more self-assured. He wasn’t the same Ni-ki who used to avoid eye contact in the hallways or flinch at the sound of the bullies’ voices. This Ni-ki was someone who carried himself with quiet confidence, someone who looked like he had nothing to fear.

And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to it. Something he wasn’t saying.

You wanted to ask, to press him for answers, but something stopped you. Maybe it was the way his expression remained calm, as if daring you to question him. Or maybe it was the realization that you weren’t sure you wanted to know.

“Anyway,” Ni-ki said, breaking the silence, “what’s your plan for the rest of the day?”

The abrupt shift in topic caught you off guard, but you decided to go with it. “Not much,” you said, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “Probably just try to catch up on homework and maybe watch something later.”

He nodded, his smile softening into something more genuine. “Sounds good. Let me know if you find a good mystery to watch.”

“Will do,” you replied, smiling back.

As you parted ways and headed to your respective classes, you couldn’t help but glance back at him. The way he walked, the way he carried himself now—it was almost like he was a completely different person.

And though you didn’t say it out loud, the unease lingered. There was something about Ni-ki that had changed, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. And as much as you wanted to believe it was just confidence.. a small, nagging part of you wondered if it was something more.

After school, you found yourself lingering by the gate, waiting for Ni-ki. You weren’t even sure why. Maybe it was just the need to talk to him again, to see if you could get a better read on what he was thinking.

He appeared a few minutes later, his bag slung over one shoulder and his usual calm expression in place. When he spotted you, his lips twitched into a small smile.

“Waiting for me?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just thought we could walk together.”

“Sure,” he said, falling into step beside you.

The walk home started out quiet, the kind of comfortable silence you’d gotten used to with him. But as you neared the park, you couldn’t hold back your curiosity any longer.

“Ni-ki,” you began carefully, “I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier.”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “What about it?”

“About not caring. About how it’s not your job to care about... people like them.” You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “It just feels like... I don’t know, you’ve changed a lot lately. You’re more confident, and that’s great, but... it’s like you’re not bothered by anything anymore.”

Ni-ki didn’t respond right away. He kept walking, his gaze focused straight ahead, his expression calm. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders rising and falling.

“I guess I just realized there’s no point in letting things get to me,” he said, his tone measured. “People like them... they’re not worth my time. They never were.”

You frowned, your unease growing. “But... don’t you think it’s weird? That they just disappeared like that?”

He stopped walking, turning to face you. His eyes met yours, and for the first time, there was a flicker of something behind his calm exterior. Something darker.

“What are you trying to say?” he asked, his voice quiet but firm.

Your breath hitched, caught off guard by the sudden intensity in his gaze. “I’m not saying anything,” you said quickly, though your heart was racing. “I’m just... curious. That’s all.”

Ni-ki studied you for a moment longer before his expression softened, the faintest smile returning to his lips. “It’s probably nothing,” he said. “People like that... they always have enemies. Maybe someone else decided to deal with them.”

The way he said it sent a chill down your spine. He didn’t sound defensive, or even particularly concerned. If anything, he sounded... amused.

You forced a smile, not wanting to push him further. “Yeah, maybe,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

Ni-ki started walking again, and you followed, your mind racing with questions you didn’t dare ask.

As the two of you walked further down the quiet street, Ni-ki suddenly turned toward his dorm building, stopping just before the steps. He looked at you with a hint of hesitation, but there was also that hopeful glint in his eyes that always managed to make your heart soften.

“Hey,” he said casually, though his tone had a shy edge. “Do you… maybe want to come up? We could study together or something. I know exams are coming up, and it’s easier with company.”

You hesitated, clutching the strap of your bag. “I don’t know… I should probably just head home and get some rest.”

Ni-ki’s face dropped slightly, and for a second, he looked like he was bracing for you to turn him down. But the way he glanced at you—hopeful and a little nervous—made something inside you falter.

“Are you sure?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. “It’ll be quiet. I promise I won’t distract you too much.”

You looked at him, at the way his bangs fell slightly into his eyes and the way he fidgeted with the strap of his own bag. He looked cute, and there was something so innocent about the way he asked, as if he genuinely just wanted to spend more time with you.

“Alright,” you finally said, relenting with a small smile. “I’ll stay for a little while.”

The way his face lit up made it all worth it. A broad smile spread across his lips, and before you could react, he reached out, his hands gently finding their way to your waist as he guided you toward the door. His touch was firm yet careful, his hands warm even through the fabric of your jacket.

“Come on,” he said, his tone suddenly brighter as he led you inside the building. “It’s not too messy, I promise. Well… not that messy.”

You laughed softly, letting him lead you into the lobby and toward the elevator. There was something about the way he was acting—lighthearted and a little goofy—that made your earlier unease fade just a bit.

When the elevator doors opened, Ni-ki stepped aside to let you in first, his hand briefly brushing against your lower back. He pressed the button for his floor, glancing at you with a grin. “I’ll even let you pick the first topic we study. Fair deal?”

“Deal,” you said, shaking your head at him.

As the elevator climbed, you realized that, despite your earlier hesitation, you didn’t really mind being here with him. There was something comforting about the way Ni-ki treated you, like you were the only person who really mattered to him in that moment.

The elevator dinged, and the two of you stepped out into the hallway. Ni-ki led the way to his room, opening the door with a flourish before stepping aside to let you in.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he said, gesturing around with a playful smile.

You stepped inside, taking in the neat but lived-in space. His desk was cluttered with notebooks and textbooks, and there were a few random items scattered around—headphones, a hoodie draped over the back of a chair, a half-empty mug on the windowsill.

“It’s cozy,” you said, setting your bag down by the door.

Ni-ki grinned. “That’s code for ‘small,’ isn’t it?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, I mean it. It feels… nice.”

“Good,” he said, closing the door behind you. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab us some water, and then we can get started.”

As he busied himself in the corner of the room, you took a seat at his desk, letting yourself relax.

And as Ni-ki returned with two glasses of water and a bright smile, you couldn’t help but think that maybe this was exactly what you needed.

Ni-ki handed you a glass of water, his smile warm and genuine, and you took it with a grateful nod. As you both sat down at his desk, the atmosphere felt surprisingly comfortable. The earlier tension had all but faded, replaced by a quiet energy between you two that made everything feel easy.

“So,” Ni-ki began, pulling a notebook toward him, “what subject do you want to start with?” His eyes flickered toward you, waiting for your answer.

You considered for a moment. “I guess… let’s tackle history first? That’s the one I’m struggling with the most.”

“History it is,” Ni-ki agreed, and there was a brief moment of silence as he pulled out his own materials, flipping through pages in his textbook. You glanced at the way he studied—focused but relaxed, as if he’d done this a hundred times before. His brow furrowed just a little when he concentrated, and you found yourself studying him without even realizing it.

He noticed after a second, a slight shift in his posture. “What? Is something wrong?” he asked, glancing up from his book.

“No, no, I was just… thinking.” You gave him a small smile, hoping to ease whatever concern he might have had. “You’re a good study buddy. You’re very… focused.”

Ni-ki chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I try. It’s just easier when you actually care about what you’re learning, you know?”

You nodded in agreement. The two of you dived into your history notes, bouncing ideas back and forth, helping each other fill in the blanks on a few tricky subjects. The more you talked, the more you realized how much you enjoyed this.

As the hours passed, you found that time seemed to slow down in Ni-ki’s presence. Every now and then, he’d glance up from his book and shoot you a little smile, making it hard to focus on anything else.

By the time you looked at the clock, it had already gotten late. You hadn't realized how much time had passed, so engrossed in studying and talking.

“We should probably call it a night,” you said, stretching your arms above your head.

Ni-ki nodded, though his expression was a little reluctant. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Time really flew by.” He stood up, walking over to the desk and gathering his things. He paused for a moment, glancing back at you. “Thanks for hanging out tonight. It was… really nice.”

You smiled at him, your heart warming at his words. “Of course. I’m glad we did this.”

Ni-ki walked you to the door, his hand brushing yours for a brief moment as he reached for the handle. He opened the door, and as you stepped into the hallway, he stopped you.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice softer than usual.

You turned to look at him, eyebrows raised in question.

“I just wanted to say…” He paused, as if thinking carefully about his words. “I’m glad you’re… in my life. You know, you’ve really made things a lot easier for me.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and you weren’t sure how to respond.

“I’m glad, too,” you managed, your voice a little quieter than intended. “I think we make a good team.”

Ni-ki’s lips curled into a small, genuine smile, and something about it made your chest feel lighter. He stepped closer, his hand briefly brushing your arm as if he wasn’t sure what to do next.

You both stood there for a moment, before Ni-ki spoke again, his tone soft but teasing.

“See you tomorrow, then?”

You nodded, feeling the smile tug at your own lips. “See you tomorrow.”

The music in your ears drowned out most of the world around you as you walked through the dark streets, the beat lightening your steps as you bopped your head and hummed softly. It was one of those evenings when the city felt alive but distant, the dim glow of streetlights casting long shadows against brick walls and sidewalks.

You didn’t notice the loud voice at first, too lost in the rhythm, but as it grew louder, it cut through the music, making you glance to your left. There, leaning against the wall of an old corner store, was a guy from your school.

You recognized him instantly. He was one of those guys who thrived on making others miserable. A bully. Loud, brash, and unapologetic about it. He was talking on his phone, his voice carrying through the quiet street.

When his gaze flicked toward you, you realized you’d been staring for too long. His face twisted in annoyance, and he barked, “What the hell are you looking at?”

Startled, you quickly shrugged, averting your gaze and picking up your pace. You didn’t have time for his nonsense tonight. The plan was simple: get home, maybe text Ni-ki, and bury yourself under your covers.

But you hadn’t made it more than a few steps when the street suddenly fell silent.

It was strange, almost unnerving. You frowned, pulling out one of your earbuds and glancing back over your shoulder.

Your breath caught in your throat.

The guy was still standing there, but something was wrong. His body was stiff, his shoulders trembling, and his head was tilted downward as if he were staring at his chest. Blood. Dark and glistening, it spilled from his mouth and dripped onto the pavement. His phone slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground.

Your instincts screamed at you to run, to do anything but stay frozen, but your feet refused to move. You could only watch in horror as his wide, terrified eyes met yours.

He tried to say something, his lips moving, but all that came out was a wet, gurgling sound.

And then you saw it.

Behind him, a figure emerged from the shadows, tall and menacing. They wore dark clothes, a hood pulled up to obscure most of their features, but what stood out—what sent chills racing down your spine—was the white mask. A smooth, expressionless face with hollow, soulless eyes staring straight at you.

In their gloved hand, they held a knife, the blade dripping with fresh blood.

Your heart pounded in your chest as panic set in. You were about to scream, about to do anything to snap yourself out of the shock, but the figure stepped forward, their movements deliberate and calm, as if they had all the time in the world.

The bully’s body crumpled to the ground, his lifeless eyes still locked in an expression of pure fear. The blood pooled beneath him, staining the pavement a deep crimson.

The figure didn’t move toward you—not yet. They just stood there, tilting their head slightly as if studying you, waiting to see what you would do.

Every instinct in your body screamed for you to run, but your legs felt like they were made of lead.

This can’t be real, you thought. This can’t be happening.

But it was. And now, the figure took one slow, deliberate step in your direction.

Run. You had to run. Now.

Your body finally responded, adrenaline flooding your veins as you stumbled backward, nearly tripping over your own feet. You turned and bolted down the darkened street, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The earbuds still dangling from your ears blasted music, a sharp contrast to the pounding of your heartbeat and the terror consuming you.

You didn’t dare look back.

Your feet hit the pavement hard, the sound echoing in the empty streets as you raced forward, unsure of where you were going. The only thought in your mind was get away. The quiet of the street felt suffocating, broken only by the occasional flicker of a streetlight.

But then you heard it.

Footsteps.

Slow, deliberate, and eerily calm.

Whoever they were, they weren’t running—they were following you. Like they knew you couldn’t escape.

You risked a glance over your shoulder, and your stomach dropped. The figure was still there, their white mask glowing faintly under the dim streetlights. They weren’t far, and their steady pace somehow made it worse. They didn’t need to run. They knew they had the upper hand.

“No, no, no...” you whispered to yourself, your voice shaky. You turned a sharp corner into a narrower street, your eyes darting around for any sign of help—a lit window, a passerby, anything. But there was no one. Just endless shadows.

You spotted an alley up ahead and ducked into it, pressing yourself against the wall as you tried to steady your breathing. You ripped your earbuds out, desperate to hear every sound around you.

For a moment, there was silence. The footsteps had stopped.

You strained your ears, listening for any hint of movement. The sound of your own breathing felt deafening in the stillness.

And then, softly, the unmistakable scrape of a shoe against the pavement.

Your heart nearly stopped as you realized they were close—too close.

The figure stepped into the mouth of the alley, their tall silhouette illuminated by the faint glow of a distant streetlight. They turned their head slowly, scanning the space.

You pressed yourself harder against the wall, willing yourself to disappear. Please don’t see me, please don’t see me.

But then they tilted their head, and you knew they’d found you.

A sharp wave of panic crashed over you, and before you could think, your legs moved on their own. You bolted deeper into the alley, praying it would lead somewhere—anywhere—but as you reached the end, your heart sank.

A dead end.

You spun around, your back pressed against the cold brick wall as the figure approached, their movements unhurried, deliberate. The knife in their hand gleamed faintly in the dim light, still slick with blood.

“W-what do you want?” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. Your hands shook as you clenched them at your sides, trying to mask the terror in your chest.

The figure didn’t answer, their masked face tilting slightly as if amused by your fear. The silence between you was suffocating, the sound of your ragged breathing echoing in the narrow alley. You pressed yourself harder against the wall, your body trembling as their slow, deliberate footsteps brought them closer.

“Please,” you tried again, your voice cracking. “I won’t tell anyone. Just—just let me go.”

Still, no response. They stopped just a few feet away, the knife glinting under the faint light. The blade wasn’t just bloodied—it was still dripping. Fresh.

You swallowed hard, your mind racing for a way out. Running wasn’t an option. The alley was too narrow, and they were blocking your only escape.

Then, the figure did something that made your stomach drop. Slowly, they reached up with their free hand and tapped the edge of the mask—right where the mouth would be. A deliberate, mocking gesture.

The message was clear: Don’t scream.

Your body froze as dread sank into your chest.

Your breathing hitched as the figure suddenly surged forward, their free hand grabbing your wrists and slamming them against the cold brick wall. You winced at the force, the impact sending a sharp sting up your arms.

"Let go!" you cried, struggling against their iron grip, but it was no use. Their hands were strong—too strong—and no matter how much you writhed or twisted, you couldn’t break free.

The knife gleamed dangerously close to your side, but it wasn’t moving. Instead, the figure leaned in, their mask mere inches from your face.

“Why are you doing this?” you hissed, your voice shaking but desperate.

They didn’t answer. Instead, they tilted their head, as if observing you up close, and the silent scrutiny sent a shiver down your spine. Their breathing was steady, calm—eerily so, given the situation.

You turned your head away, refusing to meet their hollow gaze, but their grip on your wrists tightened, forcing you to look back at them.

“Stop,” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper now. “Please.”

They leaned in even closer, the blank mask filling your vision. The faint scent of something metallic—blood—wafted into your nose, and you froze completely, your body trembling under their hold.

You could feel the faint pressure of their breath through the mask, warm and unnervingly slow.

Then, they did something that made your stomach twist. They tilted their head down slightly, as if inspecting you more closely, and the knife in their other hand gently traced along the brick wall beside your face, the sound sharp and deliberate.

“Why are you so scared?” they finally murmured, their voice low, distorted, and almost playful. The modulated tone sent a chill through your entire body. Your eyes widened at the sound. “Who are you?” you managed to croak, but they ignored your question.

They leaned even closer, their voice dropping to a whisper. “You’ve been watching people. Reading their actions. Studying them.”

Your heart stopped. How could they possibly know that?

The knife stopped moving, the tip resting against the wall now as they tilted their head again, as if amused by your reaction.

“You’re just like me,” they murmured, their voice soft but laced with something dangerous. “Aren’t you curious about what happens next?”

The words struck you like a blow, and you felt the air leave your lungs. “I’m nothing like you,” you spat, trying to summon any ounce of courage left in you.

The figure chuckled softly—a sound that was more unsettling than anything else—and finally stepped back, releasing your wrists. You crumpled slightly against the wall, your hands trembling as you pulled them to your chest.

They stood there for a moment, watching you. And then, without a word, they turned and walked away, their figure disappearing into the darkness once more.

You didn’t move, your body frozen in place as your mind raced. Their words echoed in your head.

You’re just like me.

What did they mean?

For a moment, you stood there, too stunned to move, your legs shaking beneath you. The silence in the alley was deafening now, the absence of their presence almost as terrifying as their arrival.

Finally, your body caught up with your mind. You bolted.

You ran down the street, not caring where you were going, your feet pounding against the pavement. Every shadow felt like it was reaching for you, every flicker of light a reminder of that gleaming knife.

When you finally stopped, you realized you were standing in front of your building. Your hands trembled as you fumbled for your keys, barely managing to unlock the door before stumbling inside.

You slammed the door behind you, locking it quickly and leaning against it as you tried to catch your breath. Your heart was still racing, and the image of the masked figure burned into your mind wouldn’t leave.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, your back pressed against the door, fighting to steady your breath. The air in the hallway was suffocating, the stillness unnerving. Your pulse thudded in your ears, too loud, too fast, as you struggled to ground yourself in reality.

The sound of your own heartbeat felt like a drum, drowning out every other noise. You closed your eyes for a moment, willing the panic to subside, but the image of the masked figure—those hollow, unfeeling eyes—kept flashing in your mind. You could almost still feel the coldness of their grip on your wrists, the steel of the knife pressed against the air between you.

No, no, you couldn't think about that. You had to focus on something else.

Your hands were shaking so badly that when you tried to take off your shoes, you nearly tripped over them. You steadied yourself against the wall, reaching for your phone in your pocket. Your hands felt clammy as you unlocked it, eyes scanning the screen. You thought about calling someone—anyone—but who could you even call? You had no idea what just happened, who that person was, or why you were targeted.

You tapped your messages, but the familiar names on your screen did little to comfort you. Your fingers hovered over Ni-ki’s name for a moment, but you hesitated. You didn’t want to scare him. What would you even say?

You knew he’d be worried, and maybe that’s exactly what you needed. But not yet.

You let out a long, shaky breath, and after a moment of indecision, you tucked the phone back into your pocket. You needed to calm down. You couldn’t let yourself spiral.

Your eyes flicked to the window, the dim glow from the streetlights casting long shadows into the room. Every movement, every flicker of light outside seemed to twist your nerves tighter. You felt like you were being watched.

Was it paranoia?

You couldn’t stay locked inside forever. But you couldn’t leave either. Not now.

You walked to the window and pulled the blinds slightly aside, peering out. The street below was quiet, eerily so. But there was something off about it now. Something unsettling.

Was this your fault? Was it something you'd done or seen that made you a target?

You flinched as your phone buzzed in your pocket, snapping you out of your thoughts. Your heart skipped a beat, but when you checked, it was just a message from Yuna—nothing urgent. You let out a breath of relief, your hands still trembling slightly.

You wanted to scream. To make sense of it all. But something told you that doing so would only make things worse.

--

The next morning, you woke up to a sense of dread still hanging in the air, the events from last night haunting your every thought. You had barely slept, every small noise in the dark sending your heart into a frantic beat. As you stumbled out of bed, you tried to shake the feeling off, but it lingered like a shadow.

You grabbed your phone, your fingers trembling slightly as you scrolled through your notifications. And then, your stomach dropped.

The headline was everywhere.

Student Found Murdered in Alley; Police Investigating

You stared at the screen, the words blurring as you read and reread the article, your hands shaking. They had found the body of the guy from last night—the one who had been leaning against the wall when the figure had attacked him. Blood had poured from his mouth just before the figure disappeared into the shadows.

But now he was dead.

The report didn’t offer many details yet, but the police were investigating, and they had a few leads—seeing if they found any potential witnesses. You clenched your fists, a sick feeling bubbling in your stomach as you read the lines again, trying to steady your nerves.

You were a witness.

You were standing right there when it happened, not even ten feet away. But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell anyone. The thought of speaking up made your stomach churn. What could you even say? That you’d seen a masked figure with a bloody knife standing over the body, and then you’d just run? That you’d been too scared to do anything but watch?

No, you couldn’t. It felt wrong. Almost like you were too close to the danger.

For a moment, you thought about calling Ni-ki. He’d want to know. He’d be concerned. But even the thought of telling him made you hesitate. You didn’t want to burden him with this. And besides, you didn’t even know what to say to him. How would he react?

Something inside you whispered that it was better to stay quiet. For now, at least. You didn’t know why. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was guilt. But you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that speaking out would only make things worse.

As you turned off your phone and got ready for school, the weight of the secret pressed down on you like an iron fist. The urge to tell someone gnawed at you, but something—maybe self-preservation, maybe the fear of the unknown—stopped you from speaking.

You didn’t know what kind of person that made you, but at that moment, all you could think about was survival.

And that meant staying silent.

You spotted Ni-ki waiting for you near the school gates, his back leaning casually against the wall. At first, you almost didn’t recognize him. Gone were the oversized hoodies and the unassuming posture. Today, he wore a sharp black jacket, his shirt tucked in, and his usually messy hair was swept back, revealing more of his face. The change was striking, and it caught you off guard.

When he saw you approaching, he straightened up, slipping his hands into his pockets with an easy confidence you’d never seen before. There was a glint in his eyes that made your stomach flip.

“Morning,” he greeted smoothly, his tone lighter than usual. His gaze swept over you briefly before he added, “You look cute today.”

The comment hit you like a bolt out of the blue, and you felt your cheeks flush instantly. “W-what?” you stammered, staring at him wide-eyed. Ni-ki wasn’t the type to flirt—or, at least, you didn��t think he was.

He chuckled at your reaction, his lips curling into a small, amused smile. “Relax. I’m just being honest.”

You ducked your head, pretending to fumble with your bag to hide the warmth spreading across your face. “Well… thanks, I guess,” you mumbled, trying to compose yourself.

The two of you fell into step together, chatting idly as you walked toward the school building. Ni-ki seemed so at ease, more relaxed than you’d ever seen him.

But as the two of you passed through the crowded hallway, you noticed something—every time someone called out to him, a snide remark or a mocking laugh in their tone, Ni-ki’s shoulders would stiffen ever so slightly.

“Hey, Ni-ki, looking sharp today!” someone sneered from behind, the tone far from genuine.

“Trying to impress someone? Not like anyone cares,” another voice added with a laugh.

You glanced over at him, expecting to see some hint of his reaction—annoyance, discomfort, maybe even the faint twist of hurt you used to notice in his expression when he was picked on. But before you could catch anything, Ni-ki turned to you with that same easy smile, his voice light and unaffected.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” he asked as if nothing had happened, steering the conversation effortlessly away from the taunts.

You frowned slightly, feeling like something was off. His smile was convincing, but you knew him well enough to sense that it didn’t reach his eyes. There was something guarded behind that mask of confidence, a wall he didn’t want you—or anyone else—to see behind.

“Are you okay?” you asked carefully, your voice low enough that no one else could hear.

Ni-ki’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—brief, almost imperceptible. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he replied smoothly, tilting his head at you like the question itself was unnecessary.

You wanted to press further, but the bell rang, cutting off any chance of continuing the conversation.

As you headed to class together, you couldn’t help but steal a few glances at him. Ni-ki had changed—there was no denying that. He seemed stronger, more confident, even… untouchable in a way. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t still carrying the weight of what he’d been through.

And as much as you wanted to believe his smile, something in you knew that the Ni-ki you were walking with now wasn’t the same one you’d first met.

The days passed, and Ni-ki’s transformation became even more apparent. He wasn’t just confident now—he was bold, almost playful in the way he interacted with you. And you couldn’t deny the effect it had on you.

“Morning,” he greeted one day, appearing behind you so suddenly that you nearly dropped your books. You turned to glare at him, clutching your chest as your heart raced from the surprise.

“Ni-ki, can you not sneak up on me like that?” you huffed, glaring half-heartedly.

He smirked, leaning down to your eye level, far too close for comfort. “What, can’t handle a little excitement in the morning?” he teased, his voice laced with a softness that made your cheeks burn.

You looked away, muttering under your breath, but it only seemed to amuse him. Without asking, he reached for your bag, slinging it over his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Hey! I can carry my own bag,” you protested, grabbing for the strap.

Ni-ki dodged your hand effortlessly, his smirk growing. “I know. But I want to. Let me be a gentleman for once,” he said, winking at you.

You huffed again, but the way your cheeks warmed betrayed how much it flustered you.

It wasn’t just the small gestures like carrying your bag that got to you. Ni-ki always seemed to know just how to toe the line between teasing and sincere, making your heart race in ways you hadn’t expected. Sometimes, he’d lean casually against the locker next to yours, his proximity far too close to be casual.

“Have you ever read this one?” he asked once, holding out a crime novel you hadn’t even heard of. “I thought of you when I saw it.”

You blinked at the book in his hands, touched by the gesture. “You thought of me?”

He grinned, tilting his head. “Well, yeah. It’s about solving crimes. Sound familiar?”

You tried not to blush at his words, but his teasing gaze made it impossible.

The more time you spent with him, the more you noticed the little things he did—bringing you snacks during breaks, texting you links to new crime documentaries, and inviting you over to his dorm room for movie nights.

Those nights were some of your favorite moments, even if they made you nervous. The two of you would sit close together on the small couch, a bowl of popcorn between you as you watched horror movies. Inevitably, you’d end up dozing off halfway through, only to wake up hours later, cuddled up against his chest.

The first time it happened, you’d pulled away so quickly you nearly fell off the couch. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

Ni-ki just laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “It’s fine. You looked comfortable,” he said, his tone so gentle it made your heart ache.

Still, the memory of waking up to the sound of his steady heartbeat, feeling the warmth of his arms around you, stayed with you long after.

You couldn’t deny how Ni-ki made you feel. His presence was becoming something you looked forward to—his teasing, his warmth, his surprising thoughtfulness.

He was always there—waiting for you by the gates in the morning, walking you to your classes, and staying by your side during breaks. His confidence had grown, but so had his charm. He seemed to know just what to say to make your heart skip a beat, leaving you flustered and unsure how to respond.

One afternoon, the two of you were walking out of the library. Ni-ki was carrying your books again despite your protests, and the late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the campus.

“So,” he began, his voice casual but laced with that teasing edge you’d come to expect, “are you ever going to admit you like spending time with me, or do I have to keep carrying your books until you do?”

You turned to him, startled by his boldness, and saw the playful smirk tugging at his lips. “I—what?!”

Ni-ki chuckled, leaning in slightly as he walked beside you. “You heard me,” he said, his voice soft but teasing. “You don’t have to be so shy about it. I mean, I am pretty great company.”

Your face burned, and you looked away, clutching your bag tightly. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you muttered, though your tone lacked any real bite.

His laugh was soft but warm, and it only made your cheeks grow hotter. “I’m just saying what’s true,” he said, his voice lowering as he added, “You’re cute when you get flustered, you know that?”

You didn’t respond, too busy trying to keep your heart from pounding out of your chest.

Later that evening, you found yourself at his dorm room again, another movie night he’d somehow convinced you to attend. As usual, he’d picked a horror film—one of his favorites, he said.

The room was dimly lit, the flickering glow of the TV the only source of light. You sat next to him on the small couch, your knees almost touching.

Halfway through the movie, a particularly tense scene made you jump, and without thinking, you grabbed onto Ni-ki’s arm.

“Scared?” he asked, his tone teasing but not unkind.

You quickly let go, crossing your arms over your chest. “No,” you said stubbornly, though the way your heart raced said otherwise.

Ni-ki laughed softly, leaning closer to you. “It’s okay to be scared. You can hold onto me if you want,” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make your breath catch.

You glanced at him, your cheeks burning again, and quickly looked back at the screen. “I’ll be fine,” you muttered, trying to ignore how close he was.

As the movie went on, though, the tension eased, and the warmth of Ni-ki’s presence lulled you into a sense of comfort. Before you knew it, your eyes were growing heavy, and the soft sound of his breathing beside you was the last thing you remembered before you drifted off.

When you woke up, the TV was off, and the room was quiet. You blinked groggily, realizing you were leaning against Ni-ki’s chest again, your head resting just over his heart. His arm was draped lightly over your shoulder, holding you close.

You froze, your face heating up as you tried to process the situation. Slowly, you sat up, careful not to wake him, only to find him already awake, his eyes half-lidded and watching you with a soft smile.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

“I—I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” you stammered, pulling away completely.

Ni-ki just shrugged, sitting up as well. “It’s fine,” he said, brushing it off like it was nothing. “You looked comfortable.”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning softly. “This is so embarrassing…”

He chuckled, reaching out to gently nudge your shoulder. “Relax. I told you, it’s fine. You can fall asleep on me anytime.”

His words only made your blush deepen, and you quickly got up, mumbling something about needing to leave. Ni-ki walked you to the door, still smiling in that soft, knowing way that made your heart ache.

--

It was a typical day in the cafeteria, the loud hum of conversation filling the air as you sat with your friends, idly picking at your food. The topic of discussion ranged from schoolwork to weekend plans, and you were halfway through telling a funny story when the sound of a tray nearly crashing to the ground caught your attention.

You looked up to see Ni-ki, standing awkwardly as he tried to steady himself after nearly colliding with a group of girls near the lunch line. His tray wobbled precariously, but he caught it just in time, flashing the girls an apologetic smile before quickly stepping aside.

The girls giggled, whispering to one another as Ni-ki walked off, looking slightly flustered. You could almost see the faint hint of red on his cheeks, though he composed himself quickly and made his way toward his usual spot.

“That’s Ni-ki, right?” one of your friends, Natty, said, nudging you with her elbow.

You blinked, realizing your friends were now watching him. “Yeah,” you said nonchalantly, though your gaze lingered on him as he passed by.

“He’s gotten so handsome lately,” another friend chimed in, resting her chin on her hand as she stared after him. “I mean, look at him! The hair, the way he’s dressing now… I swear, it’s like he had a total glow-up overnight.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, and you quickly looked down at your plate, hoping no one would notice.

“He’s always been cute,” Natty said, shrugging. “But now? It’s like… he’s confident. And confidence is hot.”

“I heard he’s been helping out in some of his classes too,” another friend added. “Like, tutoring and stuff. Smart and good-looking? Talk about the whole package.”

You tried to focus on your food, but the conversation buzzed around you, and you couldn’t help but feel a strange twinge in your chest as your friends continued to gush over Ni-ki.

“Hey,” Natty said suddenly, leaning closer to you. “You’ve been hanging out with him a lot lately, haven’t you? What’s that about?”

Your head shot up, eyes wide. “What? No, we’re just… friends,” you said quickly, waving off her question. “He likes crime novels, and we talk about them sometimes. That’s all.”

“Just friends?” Natty teased, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because he definitely looks at you like you’re more than just a friend.”

Your heart skipped a beat at her words, and you frowned, shaking your head. “You’re imagining things.”

But even as you said it, you couldn’t shake the memory of Ni-ki’s lingering glances, the way he leaned closer when he spoke to you, or how his hand would sometimes brush against yours when he handed you something.

Across the cafeteria, Ni-ki had taken a seat by himself, but before he started eating, his eyes flicked in your direction. It was only for a moment, but it was enough to make your stomach flip.

Natty noticed too, smirking as she nudged you again. “See? I told you. He’s totally into you.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Can we please change the subject?”

Your friends laughed, but they eventually let it go, moving on to other topics. Still, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at Ni-ki again, only to find him smiling softly to himself as he ate.

And for some reason, that little smile made your heart race even more than it already was.

The day had dragged on, the sun was low on the horizon as you started your walk home, the familiar path quiet except for the occasional car passing by. You had just popped in your earbuds when the sound of hurried footsteps broke through the music.

Frowning, you glanced over your shoulder, only to see Ni-ki sprinting toward you, waving one arm while clutching his bag with the other. His glasses were slightly crooked, his hair a little disheveled from the run, but he wore that familiar smile that seemed to make your day just a little brighter.

“Wait up!” he called, slightly breathless as he closed the distance between you.

You stopped, giving him time to catch his breath. “You okay there, track star?” you teased as he bent over, hands on his knees, trying to steady his breathing.

“Yeah,” he panted, straightening up and flashing you a grin. “Just… didn’t want to lose you before I asked.”

“Asked what?” you said, tilting your head.

He shifted his bag higher on his shoulder. “Do you want to come over and study? I mean, if you’re not busy or anything. I thought we could go over some of that exam stuff together, maybe watch something after…”

You raised an eyebrow at him, suppressing a smile. “You ran all the way here to ask me that?”

Ni-ki shrugged, a faint pink dusting his cheeks as he looked away. “Well… yeah. It seemed important.”

You chuckled softly, noticing how his glasses were sitting askew on his face from the sprint. Without thinking, you stepped closer, reaching up to gently adjust them. “There,” you said, your voice softer now. “That’s better.”

Ni-ki blinked at you, clearly startled by the gesture, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. For a moment, he just stood there, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place—something warm, something soft, something that made your heart skip.

You cleared your throat, stepping back and turning toward the direction of his dorm building. “Alright, let’s go,” you said, trying to ignore the sudden heat rising to your face.

Ni-ki followed after you, his footsteps light but quick, and you didn’t notice the way his eyes lingered on you as he walked behind. There was a small, almost shy smile on his face, one he didn’t bother hiding now that you weren’t looking.

By the time you reached the building, the sky had darkened, the streetlights flickering on. Ni-ki held the door open for you, letting you step in first, and as you made your way toward the stairs, you felt his presence behind you—quiet but steady.

“You’ve really got a thing for last-minute plans, huh?” you said, glancing back at him with a teasing smile.

“Only with you,” he replied smoothly, his tone light, but there was a glimmer of sincerity in his eyes that caught you off guard.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s see if you can actually focus on studying this time.”

Ni-ki just grinned, following you up the stairs, his heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the earlier sprint.

The moment you stepped into Ni-ki’s apartment, you were greeted by the faint scent of laundry detergent and something sweet—probably the remnants of whatever he had for breakfast that morning.

“Make yourself at home,” he said, slipping off his shoes and gesturing toward his room.

You followed him in, setting your bag down on the floor.

“Alright,” Ni-ki said, plopping down onto the floor and pulling out his notebook. “Let’s get this over with before my brain decides to shut off completely.”

You laughed, sitting down across from him and pulling out your own notes. “You’re the one who wanted to study, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, flipping through his book. “Just don’t let me slack off too much.”

For a while, the two of you worked in relative silence, the sound of pages turning and pens scratching against paper filling the room. Every now and then, one of you would ask a question, leading to brief discussions as you helped each other out.

“Wait, is this right?” Ni-ki asked at one point, sliding his notebook over to you.

You leaned over to take a look, your brows furrowing as you scanned his work. “Almost. You forgot to carry this number over here,” you said, pointing it out with the tip of your pen.

Ni-ki groaned, dropping his head onto the desk dramatically. “Why is math like this? What did I ever do to deserve this kind of suffering?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his theatrics. “Come on, it’s not that bad. You’re just overthinking it.”

“Easy for you to say,” he grumbled, lifting his head to look at you. “You’re like a human calculator.”

“Flattery won’t get you out of this,” you teased, nudging his notebook back toward him.

He gave you a mock pout but picked up his pen again, dutifully fixing his mistake.

A little while later, you were both leaning back against the bed, taking a break as you sipped on the canned drinks Ni-ki had grabbed from his fridge.

“Okay, serious question,” Ni-ki said, turning to you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

You raised an eyebrow, wary but intrigued. “What?”

“If you had to choose between being stuck on a deserted island with me or having to solve a murder mystery with me, which one would you pick?”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the random question. “Uh… I don’t know. What kind of murder mystery?”

“The really dramatic kind,” he said, leaning closer with an exaggerated serious expression. “Lots of twists, lots of danger. Like, we’d be running for our lives half the time.”

You pretended to think about it, tapping your chin. “In that case… definitely the murder mystery. At least then I’d have something to keep me entertained.”

Ni-ki gasped, clutching his chest like you’d just mortally wounded him. “Wow. I see how it is. I’m just boring company on a deserted island, huh?”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “That’s not what I said!”

“Sure, sure,” he said, grinning as he took another sip of his drink. “I’ll remember this the next time you need my help with something.”

The banter continued as you both returned to studying, the playful energy making the work feel less tedious. Ni-ki had a way of turning even the most mundane moments into something fun, and you found yourself smiling more often than not.

At one point, he leaned over to steal a glance at your notebook, his shoulder brushing against yours. “Are you sure this is right?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

“Yes, it’s right,” you said, rolling your eyes. “You can double-check it if you don’t believe me.”

He smirked, leaning closer. “Nah, I trust you. You’re too smart to get it wrong.”

The compliment, paired with his proximity, made your cheeks heat up, and you quickly looked away, focusing on your notebook to hide your reaction.

Ni-ki noticed, of course. He always noticed. But instead of teasing you further, he simply chuckled and went back to his own work, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

After a while, Ni-ki let out a long sigh, dropping his pen dramatically onto his notebook. “I’m officially done. I can’t stare at numbers and letters any longer without my brain exploding.”

You glanced at him, amused. “You’re giving up already? I thought you wanted to study.”

“I did,” he said, flopping onto his back like a starfish. “But now I want to do something fun. Come on, let’s play a game.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A game? Like what?”

He sat up quickly, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “On my console. I’ve got a few multiplayer games. We’ll do a couple of rounds—you’re not scared to lose, are you?”

“Oh, please,” you said, rolling your eyes as you stood up to follow him to his console setup. “You’re the one who should be worried.”

He smirked, grabbing two controllers and handing you one. “We’ll see about that.”

As the game loaded, you both got comfortable on the floor, sitting cross-legged with a pile of snacks within reach. The first match started, and immediately, the competitive energy between you two ignited.

“Ni-ki, what are you doing?” you teased as his character fell off the map for the third time in a row. “You’re not even trying, are you?”

His ears turned red as he adjusted his glasses, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. “I-I’m just warming up! Wait until the next round; you won’t even stand a chance.”

You grinned, loving the way he stumbled over his words. “Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

The next match started, and this time Ni-ki was clearly putting in more effort. He managed to take the lead, and when you lost the round, he leaned back with a triumphant smirk.

“Looks like you’re the one who should be worried,” he said, his tone dripping with playful confidence.

You felt your face heat up as you avoided his gaze, grumbling under your breath. “Lucky shot. I wasn’t even trying.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, leaning a little closer to nudge your shoulder. “Excuses, excuses. Just admit I’m better.”

You turned to glare at him, but the way his eyes sparkled with amusement made it hard to stay mad. Instead, you shoved his arm lightly. “Don’t get too cocky, Ni-ki. I’ll destroy you in the next one.”

The back-and-forth continued as you played match after match, the teasing only escalating as the wins and losses stacked up on both sides. Every time you won, Ni-ki would blush and fidget, either pushing his glasses up his nose or tugging on the sleeves of his hoodie.

“Seriously, how are you so good at this?” he muttered after losing another round, his voice a mix of frustration and awe.

“I told you, you should’ve been worried,” you said, grinning as you leaned back, basking in your victory.

But then Ni-ki got his revenge in the next game, and when you lost, he didn’t hold back.

“Aw, what happened?” he said, his voice dripping with mock concern. “I thought you were supposed to be good at this.”

You huffed, crossing your arms as your cheeks burned. “I just… got distracted, that’s all.”

“Sure,” he said, his grin widening. “Keep telling yourself that.”

The teasing was relentless, but you couldn’t deny how much fun you were having. Even as you tried to avoid looking at him after his jabs, you could feel his gaze on you, warm and amused.

When the final match ended—Ni-ki winning by a narrow margin—you let out a dramatic groan, flopping onto your back. “Ugh, I can’t believe you beat me.”

He laughed, leaning over you slightly. “See? I told you I’d win eventually.”

You looked up at him, your pout fading as you saw the way his eyes crinkled at the corners from his smile. For a moment, you forgot all about the game, too caught up in the way he looked so happy and carefree.

“Well,” you said finally, sitting up and brushing some imaginary dust off your pants. “Don’t get used to it. Next time, I’m coming for that win.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said, his voice softening slightly.

You weren’t sure what to say to that, so you busied yourself with tidying up the controllers and snack wrappers.

You glanced out the window and froze for a moment, realizing how dark it had gotten. The streetlights outside cast long, flickering shadows along the quiet road. Your heart dropped when you checked the time on your phone: 9:57 PM.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, hurriedly grabbing your things and stuffing them into your bag. You barely noticed Ni-ki watching you, his head tilted curiously as he leaned back on his hands.

"Leaving already?" he asked, his tone light, though something in his voice felt... reluctant.

You slung your bag over your shoulder, giving him a quick, apologetic smile. "Yeah, I didn’t realize how late it got. I need to get home before it gets any darker out. I’ll see you Monday, okay?"

Ni-ki opened his mouth as if to say something, but then stopped himself, giving you a small nod instead. "Alright, be careful."

You waved at him, muttering a quick, "Bye!" before rushing out of his dorm room and into the hallway.

The building was eerily quiet as you made your way outside, the cool night air hitting your face the moment you stepped through the door. You tightened your grip on your bag, glancing around the street. It was unsettling how empty it felt, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it.

You walked quickly, your footsteps echoing on the pavement. Normally, you’d pop in your earbuds and listen to music to keep yourself company, but tonight, the thought of not hearing what was around you made your stomach twist. Instead, you kept your ears open, alert to every little sound.

The streets were mostly quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves or the faint hum of a car in the distance. Still, the shadows seemed to move differently tonight, stretching and shifting in ways that made your pulse quicken.

Your pace quickened as well. The faster you walked, the closer you got to home, where you could lock the door and feel safe.

Your heart leapt at the sound of footsteps echoing behind you. They were uneven, dragging slightly against the pavement. You froze mid-step, your breath catching in your throat, and slowly turned around.

A man stumbled a little ways behind you, his silhouette illuminated by the dim glow of a streetlamp. His gait was unsteady, his head lolling slightly to the side, and in his hand was a beer bottle, half-empty and dangling precariously.

The strong stench of alcohol hit you even from a distance, and your pulse eased slightly. Just a drunk guy, you told yourself.

Still, something about the way he moved unsettled you. His eyes seemed unfocused, yet he kept glancing up in your direction, like he was aware of you but trying not to be obvious about it.

You tightened your grip on your bag and turned back around, walking faster now. The sound of his footsteps didn’t fade; if anything, they seemed to quicken as well.

Your stomach twisted, and you glanced back again. The man was closer this time, his lips curling into a sloppy smirk.

“Hey!” he slurred, his voice loud and grating. “Where you goin’ in such a hurry?”

You ignored him, your heart racing as you picked up your pace.

“Hey! I’m talkin’ to you!” he called out again, louder this time. You heard the sound of glass clinking, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him waving the beer bottle at you.

Panic bubbled in your chest. You debated breaking into a sprint, but you didn’t want to show fear—or worse, give him a reason to chase after you.

Instead, you ducked your head and turned sharply down a side street, hoping to lose him.

But the footsteps followed, faster now.

“Hey! Don’t walk away from me!” he shouted, his voice taking on an edge of irritation.

Your breathing quickened, your mind racing as you glanced around for an escape. The street was too empty, too quiet. There was no one to call for help, no open stores, no witnesses.

“C’mon, woman!” he slurred, closer than before. “Just talk to me for a second!”

He made your skin crawl, and without thinking, you broke into a run.

“Hey!” you heard him shout behind you, his footsteps pounding against the pavement as he gave chase.

You turned a corner sharply, your chest heaving as you pushed yourself to go faster. Your legs burned, your bag bouncing against your back, but you didn’t dare slow down.

When you glanced back over your shoulder, your stomach dropped. He was still following, his face twisted into a drunken snarl.

Your heart thundered as you looked ahead, desperately searching for somewhere—anywhere—to hide. That’s when you saw it: a narrow alleyway, tucked between two buildings.

Without thinking, you darted into it, pressing yourself against the wall and holding your breath. The shadows swallowed you whole, and you prayed he wouldn’t notice where you’d gone.

The sound of his footsteps grew louder, then slower, until finally, they stopped.

“Where the hell—” you heard him mutter, his voice slurred and irritated.

You peeked around the corner just in time to see him scratching his head and muttering to himself before walking away.

Relief flooded through you, and you let out a shaky breath, your back sliding against the wall as you sank to the ground.

Your hands trembled as you fumbled through your bag, desperately searching for your phone. After a frantic few moments, you realized with a sinking feeling—you’d left it at Ni-ki’s place.

“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath, running a hand through your hair. You were too shaken to think straight, but you needed your phone. It wasn’t safe to be out here without it.

With a reluctant sigh, you pushed yourself off the wall and started walking back toward Ni-ki’s dorm. The streets felt even quieter now, the darkness pressing in around you. Every step you took echoed loudly in your ears, and your heartbeat hadn’t fully calmed from the earlier chase.

You were halfway there when a sudden shout split through the silence, followed by a loud, sickening thud.

You froze in place, your head snapping toward the source of the sound. It came from an alley just a few steps ahead.

Instinct told you to keep walking, to pretend you hadn’t heard anything. But curiosity—morbid and insistent—had you inching closer to the alleyway. You peered into the darkness, your breath hitching as your eyes struggled to adjust.

At first, there was nothing. Just the oppressive blackness of the alley. You were about to turn away, deciding it wasn’t worth it, when you heard a faint shuffle.

And then he stumbled out.

The drunk man.

Your stomach churned at the sight of him—his steps were unsteady, but it wasn’t alcohol this time. No, it was the knife protruding from his chest, the hilt gleaming faintly under the dim streetlights. Blood poured from the wound, staining his shirt and dripping onto the ground in thick, steady splatters.

Your mind blanked as you stared, your body frozen in place. He staggered a few steps closer before collapsing onto the pavement, his lifeless eyes staring up at the sky.

You opened your mouth to scream, but the sound died in your throat as your gaze flicked upward.

He was there.

Standing in the shadows of the alley, his white mask almost glowing against the darkness, he tilted his head at you in that familiar, unnerving way, and though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel his eyes locked on you.

"Ah, sweetheart," his voice drawled, smooth and almost teasing. “We really have to stop meeting like this.”

Your heart nearly stopped. Without thinking, you spun around, ready to run—but you weren’t fast enough.

Before you could take more than a step, his hand shot out, grabbing your arm and yanking you back with a terrifying amount of strength. You barely had time to gasp before he twisted you around, pinning you against the cold, rough wall of the alley.

You struggled, kicking and thrashing, but he caught both your wrists in one hand, pressing them firmly behind your back. His chest pressed against your back, trapping you in place, and you could feel the heat of his breath as he leaned in close to your ear.

“He deserved it,” he whispered, his voice low and almost intimate. “Didn’t you see the way he was looking at you? Following you? Touching you with his eyes like you were something he could take?”

You tried to protest, to tell him to let you go, but your voice refused to cooperate.

“You should be thanking me,” he murmured, his tone laced with dark amusement. “If it weren’t for me, who knows what that disgusting piece of trash would’ve done to you?”

His words sent a chill down your spine, but the way he said them—like he truly believed he’d done you a favor—made your stomach twist.

“You should give me a reward, sweetheart,” he purred, his lips brushing dangerously close to your ear. “I’ve been so good to you, haven’t I? Taking care of all the people who hurt you.”

“L-let me go,” you managed to choke out, your voice trembling.

He chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Oh, but I’m not done yet,” he said, his grip on your wrists tightening slightly. “Not until you say it.”

“S-say what?” you stammered.

“Thank you,” he said simply, his voice still teasing but with an edge that made it clear he wasn’t joking. “Go on, sweetheart. Say thank you to your savior.”

You writhed in his grip, twisting and struggling to free yourself, but his hold was unyielding. Every movement you made only seemed to amuse him further.

“Tsk, tsk,” he tutted softly, like a parent scolding a misbehaving child. “What’s this, sweetheart? Fighting me when I’ve done so much for you? That’s not very nice.”

“Let me go,” you hissed, your voice sharp despite the tremor in it.

Instead of responding, he shifted closer, his body pressing against yours as his free hand moved. You flinched, expecting the worst, but he simply brushed his gloved fingers against your neck, gently pushing your hair aside. The motion was slow, deliberate—almost tender.

“You really don’t know how to behave, do you?” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with something darker. “Here I am, protecting you, keeping you safe, and you don’t even say thank you. Instead, you fight me. Struggle against me. Like I’m the bad guy.”

The words sent a chill down your spine, the weight of them sinking into your chest.

“I didn’t ask for this!” you snapped, trying once more to pull your wrists free, but his grip only tightened.

“Ah, but that’s the beauty of it, sweetheart,” he said, his tone almost playful. “You didn’t have to. I wanted to do it. For you.”

His fingers trailed lightly over the nape of your neck, sending a shiver through your body that you couldn’t control.

“You don’t understand,” he whispered, leaning in closer until his masked face was right beside yours. “I see you. Every single day. You’re so… perfect. So pure. And they’re not. They don’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.”

“You’re insane,” you spat, your voice shaking.

“Maybe,” he admitted with a dark chuckle. “But I’m your kind of insane.”

His hand slid down, brushing over your shoulder in a mockery of comfort. “Say it,” he murmured again, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Say thank you. That’s all I want to hear.”

Your throat tightened, and you bit your lip, refusing to give him what he wanted. You wouldn’t play into whatever twisted game he was orchestrating.

But he sighed, the sound carrying a hint of disappointment. “Still being stubborn, huh?” he mused. “That’s okay. I like a challenge.”

His hand moved to your chin, tilting your face slightly to the side. Though you couldn’t see his expression behind the mask, you could feel his gaze burning into you, his intensity unnerving.

“You’ll come around,” he said softly, his voice dripping with certainty. “One day, you’ll see that I’m the only one who truly cares about you.”

Before you could respond, he pulled back slightly, his grip on your wrists loosening just enough for you to jerk free. Without looking back, you bolted, your heart pounding as your feet hit the pavement.

But even as you ran, his voice echoed in your mind, smooth and haunting.

“One day, sweetheart. You’ll thank me.”

You didn’t stop running until the bright lights of the police station came into view. Your chest burned, your breath coming in ragged gasps, but the overwhelming need for safety pushed you forward. Bursting through the station doors, you stumbled inside, drawing the attention of a few officers.

“I need help!” you blurted out, your voice trembling. “There’s been a... a murder. And I saw him. I saw the killer!”

The room went silent for a moment as the officers exchanged quick glances before one of them, a tall man with a kind but serious face, approached you.

“Alright, take a deep breath,” he said, guiding you to a chair. “Let’s get this sorted. Where did this happen?”

You described the location of the alleyway, your voice shaky as you recounted the events. The officer nodded, gesturing for another officer to dispatch units to the scene immediately. Within moments, two officers left the station, heading toward the area you described.

“Okay,” the tall officer said, sitting down across from you with a notepad. “We’re going to need a full report from you. Start from the beginning—everything you saw, everything you experienced.”

Your hands shook as you clasped them tightly together, trying to steady yourself. You closed your eyes for a moment, forcing yourself to recount every detail, no matter how horrifying.

You told them about walking home, the drunk man, and the sounds that had drawn you to the alley. You described the killer in as much detail as you could: the mask, the knife, the dark clothes. You hesitated when you got to the part where he cornered you, his words still ringing in your ears.

“He... he grabbed me,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Pinned me against the wall. He said he was protecting me. That I should... thank him.”

The officer’s pen paused briefly on the notepad, his brows furrowing.

“He said he killed the man for me,” you continued, your throat tightening as you forced the words out. “That he was doing it because he cared about me.”

The officer leaned back slightly, his expression a mix of concern and disbelief. “Did you recognize him? Anything distinctive about his voice, his build, his mannerisms?”

You shook your head, feeling a wave of frustration and helplessness wash over you. “No. He wore a mask, and his voice... it was muffled. But he was tall, and he moved... like he was confident. Like he’d done this before.”

The officer nodded, jotting down your words. “You did the right thing coming here. We’ll have officers sweep the area, and we’ll add this information to the ongoing investigation.”

--

You sat in the station for what felt like an eternity, the hum of conversations and ringing phones fading into the background as your nerves took over. Every second that passed felt like it stretched longer than the last, the events of the night playing on a loop in your head.

Finally, the door swung open, and a pair of officers walked in, their expressions grim. One of them leaned in to speak with the tall officer who had taken your statement. After a brief conversation, he turned back to you and gestured for you to come over.

“They found the body,” he said quietly, his voice steady but laced with tension. “It was hidden behind some trash cans in the alley. The killer’s gone. But there’s something you need to see.”

Your stomach dropped, but you forced yourself to follow him to a desk where a computer screen was lit with grainy black-and-white footage.

“This is from a nearby CCTV camera,” the officer explained, clicking to play the video.

You leaned forward, your heart pounding as the footage started. There you were, walking down the street, your bag slung over your shoulder. You saw the drunk man trailing behind you, stumbling slightly, clutching the beer bottle. Your pulse quickened as you watched yourself pause and glance back before speeding up, the man still following.

The video cut briefly to another angle. The drunk man was now heading back down the street after you’d run. Suddenly, a shadow emerged from the alleyway. A figure stepped out behind him, silent and deliberate. The killer.

You watched, frozen, as the killer grabbed the man and pulled him into the alley in one swift motion. The man barely had time to react before disappearing into the shadows.

The screen flickered and you appeared, cautiously approaching the alley and stopping as if trying to decide whether to investigate. Then, just as you remembered, you turned and began walking away—only to get dragged in.

The next part made your blood run cold.

The camera caught the moment the killer stepped into view, just as you ran off-screen. He stopped in the middle of the street, standing there like a statue, watching you flee. Then, slowly, his head tilted upward, and he looked directly at the camera.

Even through the grainy footage, the gleaming white mask was unmistakable.

The killer stared into the camera for a long moment, tilting his head like a predator examining prey. Then, without any sense of urgency, he turned and disappeared into the shadows.

The officer paused the video, his jaw tight as he glanced at you. “The way he looked at the camera… it’s almost like he wanted us to see him.”

You couldn’t speak. Your throat felt dry, and your hands were clammy as you clutched the edge of the desk. The image of the masked figure burned into your mind was now accompanied by that chilling motion—the way he’d looked at the camera, unafraid, almost playful.

“Do you know him?” the officer asked gently, his tone careful.

You shook your head quickly, maybe a little too quickly. “No. I—I don’t know anyone who’d…” You trailed off, your voice faltering.

The officer studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Alright,” he said finally. “We’re going to keep investigating, and we’ll need to keep in contact with you. If anything—anything at all—comes to mind, you let us know.”

You nodded, your mind still racing as the image of the killer’s mask lingered.

The officer sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “For now, we’ll have someone escort you home. You shouldn’t be out there alone.”

Home. The thought of being alone right now was terrifying, but staying here with the memory of that footage wasn’t much better.

As an officer prepared to walk you out, you glanced back at the frozen frame on the screen. The mask, the tilted head, the casual way he’d turned and walked away.

He wasn’t just watching.

He was toying with you.

The car ride was quiet, the hum of the engine filling the silence as you stared out the window, your mind racing with everything that had happened. The officer glanced at you occasionally, likely noticing your pale complexion and tense posture.

As you neared your neighborhood, you suddenly remembered your phone. "Wait," you blurted out, sitting up straighter. "Can we stop by my friend's place? I left my phone there earlier."

The officer hesitated but nodded. “Alright, just make it quick. What’s the address?”

You rattled it off, and within minutes, the car pulled up in front of Ni-ki’s building. You quickly unbuckled your seatbelt, mumbling a soft, "I’ll be right back," before stepping out and jogging up to the building. Your stomach churned with unease as you entered and climbed the stairs.

When you reached Ni-ki’s door, you paused, glancing back down the hall. It was quiet, almost too quiet. Taking a deep breath, you raised your hand and knocked.

It took a few moments, but the door finally opened.

Ni-ki stood there, his damp hair pushed back messily, droplets of water still clinging to his neck. He had clearly just stepped out of the shower, wearing a loose hoodie and sweatpants that hung lazily on his frame.

“Hey,” he greeted with a soft smile, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. “I was wondering when you’d come back for this.” He held up your phone, which had been sitting on his desk.

You gave him a sheepish smile, reaching for it. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I got distracted earlier and completely forgot.”

He chuckled, leaning against the doorframe as he handed it to you. “No problem. You okay, though? You seem… tense.”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, clutching the phone to your chest. “Just—uh, long day. Thanks, Ni-ki.”

Before he could say anything else, you turned and started walking back down the hall.

“Wait—” Ni-ki called after you, his voice tinged with concern. “You sure you’re okay? You’re acting weird.”

You ignored him, speeding up your pace. “I’m fine! See you Monday!”

“(Y/N)—”

You didn’t stop, practically jogging back to the police car. You climbed in, shutting the door behind you and exhaling deeply as the officer glanced at you in the rearview mirror.

“Got what you needed?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you muttered, not meeting her gaze.

The drive home was just as silent as before, the weight of the night pressing down on your chest. When the officer pulled up outside your apartment, she gave you a small nod. “Stay inside tonight. Lock your doors. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, stepping out and heading to your door.

Once inside, you locked the door behind you, sliding the chain into place for extra security. You leaned against it, exhaling deeply as your heart continued to race.

You glanced at your phone, still clutched tightly in your hand, and felt a pang of guilt. Ni-ki had been nothing but kind to you, and you’d brushed him off so abruptly.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about the killer, about the way he’d spoken to you, about the way he’d looked at you. It was like his presence still lingered, even now, haunting you.

With a sigh, you set your phone down and headed to your room, determined to push the events of the night out of your mind. You needed sleep—desperately.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your thoughts. You glanced down, seeing a message from Ni-ki.

Ni-ki: Hey, you okay? I know you were in a rush earlier… If you need someone to talk to, I'm here.

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips, but you couldn't quite shake off the tension in your chest. You quickly typed back.

You: Yeah, I’m fine. Just… been a weird day, you know?

You stared at the screen for a moment before adding:

You: Would you mind calling me? I could use someone to talk to…

It didn’t take long for him to reply.

Ni-ki: Of course. I’ll call you now.

A few moments later, your phone rang. You swiped to answer, bringing it to your ear.

“Hey,” Ni-ki’s voice came through, calm and warm, despite the underlying concern. “You doing okay now?”

You leaned back against the wall, feeling a sense of relief just hearing his voice.

“Yeah,” you replied softly. “Just… everything feels a little off tonight. I’m glad you messaged.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you could almost picture him thinking.

“I’m glad you reached out,” he said finally. “You don’t have to go through stuff like this alone. I know it might seem like everything’s chaotic, but you’ve got me. You can always talk to me.”

His words had an unexpected comfort to them, and you felt some of the weight lift off your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you said quietly. “I really appreciate it, Ni-ki.”

“I mean it,” he replied with a soft chuckle. “Anytime, seriously. If you need a distraction or just someone to listen, I’ve got you.”

You smiled to yourself, grateful for his kindness.

“Maybe we can talk more tomorrow, huh? I’ll make sure to check in on you again. Don’t want you feeling like this all night.”

You felt a slight pang of guilt but quickly pushed it away.

“I’ll be okay. And… thanks again. I’m just gonna try to get some sleep.”

“Sounds good. Get some rest, and if anything comes up, just text me, alright?”

“I will. Goodnight, Ni-ki.”

“Goodnight,” he said, the sincerity in his voice making you feel a little lighter.

As you ended the call, you leaned back into your pillow, feeling a bit more at ease.

--

The doorbell rang again the next morning, pulling you from your thoughts. You blinked, confused, before walking over to the door and pulling it open. To your surprise, there stood Ni-ki, looking as effortlessly stylish as ever, wearing a relaxed smile.

“I’m taking you to the mall,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You stared at him for a moment, your eyes widening. “Wait, what? You’re... what?”

Ni-ki chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. “I figured you could use a little break. You’ve been cooped up here long enough.”

You glanced at the clock. It was a bit earlier than you expected. “But I—”

Before you could protest any further, you heard the sound of your own feet hitting the floor as you dashed towards your bedroom. “Give me a second! I need to get dressed!”

Ni-ki didn’t seem to mind. He just chuckled again, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “Take your time. I’ll be here.”

You quickly pulled your clothes out of your closet, racing against the clock to change, but as you did, you could hear the soft sound of Ni-ki sitting on the couch, the hum of his phone as he likely scrolled through something. Even as you hurried to change, you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous—he was waiting for you.

After awhile, you stepped out, having finally gotten dressed in something comfortable but still cute enough for a day out. You were still adjusting your jacket when you caught sight of Ni-ki, his attention fixed on his phone.

“You ready?” he asked, glancing up from his phone when he noticed you stepping into the living room.

You nodded, feeling a little bashful but excited at the same time. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Ni-ki grinned and stood up, tossing his phone onto the couch. “I knew you’d be ready in no time.”

Ni-ki led the way out of the apartment, holding the door open for you. The cool air greeted you as you stepped outside, and for the first time in a while, you felt a sense of calm settle over you

As you both walked to the car, Ni-ki kept his usual easygoing demeanor, flashing you an occasional grin, but his eyes held a warmth that made you feel at ease.

Once you got to the car, Ni-ki opened the door for you with a dramatic bow. “After you, milady,” he teased, his smile playful.

You laughed, stepping into the car. “You’re a dork,” you said, shaking your head.

He slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, the car pulling out of the parking lot as he hummed along to the song on the radio. The drive was smooth, with Ni-ki chatting casually, asking about how you’d been feeling lately, if you were still swamped with schoolwork, and if you had any specific things you wanted to do at the mall.

“I’m just along for the ride, really,” you said, feeling a little more relaxed with each passing moment. “I’m happy to just hang out.”

Ni-ki glanced at you, his lips curving upward. “Good, ‘cause I was planning on getting us some snacks, trying on some clothes, and maybe finding something ridiculous to make you laugh.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “I’m down for that,” you agreed.

The ride went by quickly, with the two of you talking and joking about random things, from bad fashion choices to the latest crime drama episode you both had watched recently. When the mall came into view, Ni-ki parked the car, giving you a quick glance. “Ready to have some fun?”

You nodded, your smile wide. “Absolutely.”

You and Ni-ki wandered through the mall, hopping from store to store, trying on ridiculous hats and laughing at each other’s choices. He picked out a bright pink beanie with oversized ears, putting it on your head and grinning mischievously. "You should totally rock this look," he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You rolled your eyes but played along, giving a dramatic twirl. "Do you think it brings out my eyes?" you joked, striking a pose.

Ni-ki’s smile widened, and he leaned in slightly, as if seriously considering the question. "Honestly? It definitely makes your eyes pop. Maybe not in the way you think, though."

You burst into laughter, nudging him playfully in the side. "You’re ridiculous," you said between giggles. But you didn’t mind—it felt good to laugh, to feel normal for once.

After some time, you both left the store, each with a few new items in hand, and wandered into the food court. Ni-ki, ever the expert in decision-making, immediately made a beeline for the bubble tea stand. “You want your usual?” he asked, already pulling out his wallet.

“Of course,” you said with a grin. “You know me too well.”

As you waited for your drinks, Ni-ki leaned against the counter casually, his expression relaxed. “This was fun, right? I’m glad you decided to come out with me today.” His tone was light, but there was something behind it—an undercurrent of sincerity that made you pause.

You smiled back at him, grateful for the day. “Yeah. I needed this... more than I thought.”

The bubble tea arrived, and the two of you walked over to a nearby table, settling in with your drinks. Ni-ki took a sip of his, then glanced over at you, his brow furrowing just slightly. "So, how have you been holding up? I know everything’s been... a little crazy lately."

You hesitated for a moment, not wanting to drag the mood down, but knowing Ni-ki would probably notice if you didn’t say something. You took a deep breath, sipping your tea as you tried to find the right words.

"I’ve been okay," you said, after a beat. "Some days are better than others, but... it’s easier when I’m with people I trust. Like you."

Ni-ki gave you a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Good. I’m glad I’m one of those people,” he said, his voice gentle.

You both fell into a comfortable silence, sipping your drinks and occasionally exchanging a few words.

Afterwards you were strolling through the aisles of the store, enjoying the soft hum of the background music and the peaceful atmosphere, when something caught your eye—a shelf full of adorable plushies. You couldn’t resist, and you found yourself picking up a cute little bear, smiling at how soft it was. But in that moment of distraction, you didn’t realize that Ni-ki had wandered off somewhere else in the store.

A few moments later, you heard the voices.

At first, they were distant, but slowly they grew louder, the tone dripping with mockery. You turned to see a group of familiar faces from school—some guys and girls who were known for their snide remarks.

“Wow, look at this,” one of the guys sneered. “All grown up, and still playing with toys?”

You felt your stomach tighten, but you didn’t let it show. You had heard this all before. Still, the words felt heavier today.

“You know, you should really grow up,” another girl added, laughing with the rest of them. “It’s kind of embarrassing, don’t you think?”

Normally, you’d brush it off with a sarcastic remark or a clever comeback, but today was different. You just couldn’t summon the energy to fight back. Instead, you gave a quiet, “It’s just a plushie,” and shrugged, turning to walk away.

But that didn’t stop them.

“Really, you’re such a child. It’s honestly pathetic,” the girl said, her voice mocking.

You stopped in your tracks, taking a deep breath. You were about to walk away again when she added something that made your blood run cold.

“You’re just as pathetic as Ni-ki. He probably doesn’t even care about you?”

The words were like a slap to the face. Without thinking, your eyes snapped toward her, your glare icy.

“You don’t know anything about us,” you hissed, your voice low and sharp. “Maybe you should focus on your own life instead of judging others.”

The girl’s expression faltered, but she wasn’t done. With a malicious grin, she raised her hand, ready to slap you across the face.

But before she could, a strong hand shot out, gripping her wrist firmly.

“Don’t even think about it,” came a low, dangerous voice.

You looked up in surprise to see Ni-ki, towering over the group. His usual relaxed posture was gone, replaced by a stance of quiet fury. The others fell silent, their eyes wide.

Ni-ki’s grip on the girl’s wrist tightened, and she yelped, trying to pull away. But Ni-ki didn’t budge.

“They can make fun of me all they want,” he said, his voice cold and low, each word laced with intensity. “But if you ever, ever make fun of her again, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The girl blinked up at him, looking stunned, but Ni-ki didn’t release his hold. He was a completely different person now, standing tall that made it clear he wasn’t going to let anyone make fun of you—not now, not ever.

The group shifted uncomfortably, clearly not used to seeing him like this. Ni-ki’s gaze never wavered from the girl, who was still trying to wriggle out of his grip. He spoke again, his words cutting through the tension like a knife.

“If I hear you even think about messing with her again, I’ll make sure it’s the last time. Got it?”

The girl’s face went pale, and after a moment, she finally pulled her wrist from his grasp. She didn’t say anything else—she didn’t have to. Ni-ki had made his point clear.

As the group scattered, you stood there in shock, your heart pounding in your chest. You weren’t sure whether to feel relieved or overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

Ni-ki turned to you, his expression softening slightly, though there was still a hint of that protective edge. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentler now.

You nodded, still processing everything. “Yeah… Thanks. I guess I owe you one,” you said.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a shrug, his usual smile returning. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

With that, the two of you continued your walk through the store.

--

The rain poured down heavily, a soft, constant drumming against the window as you sat at your kitchen table. You were absentmindedly eating your cereal when the sound of the TV caught your attention. The news anchor’s voice was steady but the words were jarring.

“A group of teens, including some local college students, have been reported missing. Authorities are investigating their whereabouts, but no leads have been found as of now.”

You froze, the spoon in your hand slipping from your grip and clattering to the floor. The world around you seemed to freeze for a moment, your heart skipping a beat. It took a few seconds for the words to register—teens, a group, missing.

You couldn’t help but feel the creeping dread settle in your chest. You quickly stood up, your movements rushed and frantic.

You put your bowl down with shaking hands, grabbed your phone, keys, and bag, not even bothering to grab a proper breakfast. You yanked on your jacket, grabbed your umbrella, and rushed out the door, the sound of the rain growing louder as you fought against the storm.

When you finally reached the school grounds, the rain hadn’t let up. You were drenched, but it didn’t matter. You immediately zeroed in on Ni-ki’s tall frame, his head down as he rifled through his bag, clearly looking for something.

You took a deep breath and made your way toward him, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you.

"Ni-ki!" you called out, stepping forward.

He jumped in surprise, his body stiffening as he spun around to look at you. His wide eyes softened when he saw you, though there was an edge of confusion in his expression.

“Hey,” he said, his voice still heavy with sleep, probably because it was so early. "You okay? You’re all wet.”

You nodded quickly, shaking your umbrella as you stood in front of him. "Yeah, I’m fine. I just—" You paused, your heart hammering in your chest. "Did you hear about the missing teens?"

Ni-ki’s face went still for a moment, his eyes narrowing. Then he sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair, as if processing everything in his head. “Yeah. I heard. I don’t know… it’s weird, right? Some of them were people from school.”

You nodded, feeling a pit grow in your stomach. “Yeah. It’s just… strange, with everything that’s been happening lately.” You bit your lip, trying to read his face. He wasn’t showing any obvious signs of worry, but then again, Ni-ki had always been good at hiding his emotions when it suited him.

Ni-ki paused, his expression hardening for a moment. “I know. But we don’t know anything for sure yet. I’m sure the police will figure it out.”

You studied him for a moment, watching how composed he was despite the situation. He was always so calm, but today it was different. You noticed how his shoulders were just a little stiffer than usual, his gaze just a little more distant, though he quickly returned his focus to you.

“Come on,” he said after a moment, his smile returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Let’s get to class.”

You nodded, following him, but the unease that had settled in your chest refused to leave. Something felt off.

The entire day felt off, like there was an invisible weight pressing on you, pulling your attention in a thousand directions. As you sat in class, your fingers kept scrolling through your phone, searching for any new information about the missing students. Every news site you checked had the same vague updates, all of them repeating the same information—the authorities were still investigating, but there were no leads. The unease grew heavier in your chest with each passing minute.

You didn’t even realize you weren’t paying attention to the lesson until the teacher called on you, pulling you back to reality with a jolt. You hastily tried to catch up, your mind racing with thoughts about what might be happening. The missing students. The weird, unsettling feeling that something was wrong.

As the bell rang for the next class, you absentmindedly packed up your things, your mind still elsewhere. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t notice Ni-ki sitting next to you, watching you with a careful, intense gaze.

It wasn’t until he spoke that you realized he’d been looking at you for a while. His voice was low, almost dangerous in its calmness.

“You haven’t been paying attention all day,” he said, his tone not accusatory but focused, like he was analyzing every little thing. “What’s going on?”

You looked up, surprised by the directness in his tone. Ni-ki’s eyes weren’t his usual playful, teasing self—they were sharp, focused, and a little darker than usual. There was something in them that made your heart race, something you couldn’t quite place.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to tell him what you were feeling, or if it was just your imagination running wild. The tension in the air seemed to thicken as he waited for you to respond, and despite everything, you felt the need to be honest with him.

“I don’t know…” you trailed off, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. “It’s just… something feels wrong, Ni-ki. There’s this whole thing with the missing students, and it doesn’t feel like it’s over. I keep thinking about all of it. I can’t stop.”

Ni-ki’s gaze never left you as you spoke, and he gave a slight nod, as if he understood. The tension in his eyes didn’t fade, though—if anything, it seemed to grow.

“You’re not the only one who feels it,” he said quietly. “But you’ve got to be careful. People don’t always show their true faces. And sometimes, the things that feel wrong are just the beginning.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking into you. There was something about the way he said it—like he knew more than he was letting on. You wanted to ask him more, to press him for details, but the way he looked at you made you think better of it.

Instead, you gave a small, uneasy nod. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were already caught up in something much bigger than you realized.

Ni-ki turned his gaze away after a moment, but not before his eyes flickered down to your hand, which you had been fidgeting with absentmindedly. He seemed to think about something for a second, and then, without warning, he reached out and gently brushed his fingers over yours. The simple touch was enough to send a jolt through your body, but when he met your eyes again, his expression had softened, almost reassuring.

“Don’t let it consume you,” he said, his voice more tender now, as if trying to comfort you in his own way. “We’ll figure it out, together.”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure what he meant by together.

After school, you had made up your mind not to stay out too late. You just wanted to get home, rest, and focus on the things you needed to catch up on. The bus ride was uneventful, and you felt a small sense of relief as you stepped off and made your way home. The familiar walk up to your building gave you a little comfort, and you entered quickly, glad to be out of the rain.

Once inside, you kicked off your shoes, tossed your bag onto the couch, and went straight for the bathroom to wash away the stress of the day. The hot water from the shower was soothing, and you stood there for a while, letting it run over your shoulders as you closed your eyes, lost in the sensation of warmth and calm.

When you finally stepped out, wrapped in a towel, you dried off and got dressed in something comfortable, and started studying, but a few hours later your stomach growled loudly, a reminder that it had been far too long since you’d eaten.

You sighed, glancing at the clock. It was already late, and you had hardly eaten all day. You stood up from your desk, stretched, and made your way to the kitchen to see what you could scrounge up. As you opened the fridge, you found a few things—a block of cheese, some leftover rice, some random vegetables—but not nearly enough to make a decent meal. Your eyes landed on the empty shelf where you normally kept the essentials like eggs, bread, and a few other things.

You cursed under your breath.

You hadn’t gone grocery shopping in a while, and it was becoming apparent just how low on supplies you were. You’d been putting it off for days, but now you were paying the price. You pulled out your phone to make a quick list of the things you needed to pick up: eggs, bread, some fresh produce, and whatever else would make an easy dinner. You threw on a jacket, grabbed your phone and keys, and headed back out the door.

The chill of the evening air hit you as soon as you stepped outside. You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, the rain still lightly falling from the sky. The store wasn’t too far, but you’d be walking through puddles, and you could already feel the dampness creeping into your shoes. Still, you needed the food, so you picked up your pace and headed in the direction of the local grocery store.

By the time you reached the entrance, you had that familiar grocery store smell—the faint scent of freshly baked bread mixed with the cool air of refrigeration—and you pushed open the door, ready to get what you needed and get back home.

You grabbed your essentials—some vegetables, some rice, and a few other ingredients to make the dinner you had planned.

You walked out of the store, the cold evening air hitting your face as you carefully balanced your bag of groceries. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you pulled it out, glancing at it absentmindedly as you began to make your way back to your apartment. You swiped through a few messages and notifications, barely paying attention to the route you were taking.

But when you finally looked up, you froze.

The street around you didn’t look familiar at all. You glanced back, realizing you must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. Your surroundings had shifted from the usual city bustle to an unfamiliar area with dilapidated houses lining the street. The buildings looked old, their windows boarded up, and the paint on the walls was chipped, peeling away from years of neglect. The street was quiet, almost eerily so, and the air felt still in a way that made your skin prickle.

You checked your phone to see your location, but it didn't help much. You could have sworn you’d taken the right path.

You stood for a moment, considering whether to retrace your steps or try to find another route back home. That’s when the sound reached your ears—a sharp, blood-curdling scream. Your heart skipped a beat. It echoed through the quiet, a cry filled with terror and desperation.

Your mind screamed at you to turn around, to keep walking and get back to the familiar streets. But something inside you stirred—a compulsion you couldn’t shake. Another scream, followed by a cry for help, rang out, louder this time. The desperation in the voice pulled at you like an invisible thread.

Without fully realizing it, you started moving toward the sound. You glanced around nervously, double-checking that you weren’t being followed, but all you could see were the looming, abandoned houses. The streetlights flickered sporadically, casting long, haunting shadows over the cracked pavement. The atmosphere felt heavy, suffocating.

You set your groceries down carefully on the ground, the sound of the bag crinkling in the quiet making you pause for a moment. You slowly made your way toward the large house where the screams had come from. It stood at the end of the street, a large, imposing structure with peeling paint and broken windows. It looked almost like a mansion at one point, but now it was barely standing, with decay eating away at its foundation.

You hesitated, but that instinct in you, the one telling you to keep moving, pushed you forward. You approached the front door, cautiously reaching out to try the handle. To your surprise, it turned easily, creaking as the door slowly opened with little resistance.

The inside was just as unsettling as the outside. It was dark, the only light coming from the weak glow of the streetlights outside, filtering through the broken windows. Dust clung to every surface, and the air smelled stale, like it hadn’t been disturbed in years. You hesitated for a moment, then pulled out your phone and turned on the flashlight. The small beam of light illuminated the eerie interior, casting long shadows along the walls.

You walked quietly, each step careful, your heart hammering in your chest. There was an unsettling silence now, the kind that makes every creak of the floorboard seem like an alarm ringing.

As you moved through the rooms, you found only remnants of the house’s former life—old furniture covered in dust, paintings half-faded with age, and broken mirrors hanging crookedly on the walls. It didn’t feel right, like the house itself was hiding something.

You continued forward, your pulse racing, until you saw the stairs. The narrow staircase creaked under your feet as you started to climb, the air thick with tension. You took each step slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible. The further you climbed, the more oppressive the silence became, making you feel like you were intruding on something dangerous.

At the top you found another hallway, dark and seemingly endless. The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you slowly moved forward, the sound of your breath heavy in your ears. You didn’t know what you were expecting to find, but with each step you took, the feeling of dread only deepened.

You were too far in now. Something had drawn you here, and no matter how much you wanted to turn back, you couldn’t.

You continued down the dark hallway at the top of the stairs, your flashlight flicking over the faded wallpaper and old doors that creaked slightly with the movement of the house. The air was thick with dust, and the floorboards groaned beneath your steps as you moved forward, every creak seeming louder in the stillness.

But despite the eerie surroundings, there was nothing—no signs of anyone being here, no more sounds of distress. The rooms you peeked into were abandoned, just like the rest of the house. Some were empty, their floors covered in broken glass or debris; others held old furniture, now falling apart with age.

You moved cautiously, stepping lightly to avoid making noise, but your mind was beginning to feel like it was playing tricks on you. The urgency that had pushed you to come this far was fading, replaced by a strange, unsettling feeling.

Your flashlight beam swept over more rooms—empty, forgotten, silent. You checked the windows of each room, but they were all boarded up or shattered, the light outside barely filtering through the gaps. Nothing moved, nothing stirred. The only sound was the slow rhythm of your own breath and the occasional rustle of your shoes against the old carpet.

The stairs seemed endless, but you couldn’t stop now. Something was pulling you forward, urging you to climb higher, even though you knew deep down it might be a mistake.

You reached the next floor, your heart racing with each step. This floor, just like the others, was coated in layers of dust and neglect. You didn’t dare touch anything; you just scanned each room quickly, hoping for a clue or something to justify your presence. But still, there was nothing.

You stood in the center of the hallway, a small sense of dread growing in your chest. There was no sign of anyone, no one to help. The house was as empty and cold as ever.

You sighed in frustration, about to turn and leave, when you noticed something different. A door at the end of the hall—a door that looked… newer, as though it hadn’t suffered the same wear as the rest of the house. Something about it caught your attention. It wasn’t the same peeling wood or faded paint. It was almost as if the door had been replaced, but not the rest of the house.

You slowly moved toward it, your hand hesitating on the doorknob.

You turned the knob, and the door creaked open.

On the other side was a small, dimly lit room. It was sparsely furnished—just a single chair in the center, facing a tall mirror that seemed too clean, too pristine in this neglected space. The rest of the room was dark, the corners shrouded in shadows.

But in the reflection of the mirror, you saw something that made your blood run cold.

A figure standing behind you.

You spun around, your breath catching in your throat, but the room was empty.

You turned back to the mirror, only to see your own wide-eyed expression, the flashlight still trembling in your hand.

Was it a trick of the light?

You couldn’t tell, but the sense of dread intensified, and every instinct you had screamed at you to leave.

Your heart raced in your chest as you hesitated in the hallway, the silence around you thick with dread, you stood frozen, unsure whether to retreat or continue forward. But the distant cries for help, desperate and pleading, pushed you onward.

You slowly climbed the last set of stairs, careful with every step, your breath shallow as you tried not to make a sound. The air seemed heavier here, colder, as if the building itself was alive with something sinister. Each creak of the floorboards under your feet was unnervingly loud in the silence, but you forced yourself to keep moving.

At the top of the stairs, the floor seemed different—newer, almost cleaner than the rest of the house. You could hear faint whimpers, like someone in pain. Your stomach churned, a wave of nausea washing over you, but you ignored it. You needed to know what was happening, needed to help whoever it was.

You crept down the hall, pausing only when you reached the door at the end. It was barely ajar, just enough to allow a glimpse of what lay beyond. Hesitantly, you peered through the crack, your heart nearly stopping when the scene before you registered.

It was a girl—someone you knew well from school. The same one from the mall, the one who had tried to hit you just days ago. But now, she was in a different state entirely. Bound to a chair, her body covered in blood, her eyes glazed with pain and fear. Her hair matted with sweat, her clothes torn and stained. It was a sight so revolting it made your stomach turn.

You gasped softly, the breath catching in your throat. The scene felt surreal, as if you were watching some horrible nightmare. The blood, both dried and fresh, had stained the chair she was tied to, the dark red splotches contrasting against the pale, almost sickly white of her skin. It was a haunting sight.

A few moments of stunned silence passed as your mind struggled to comprehend what you were seeing. Then, something inside you clicked—instinct, maybe, or the sheer desperation to do something. You couldn’t just leave her like this. Not after everything you had already witnessed.

You quickly opened the door just enough to squeeze through, the sharp creak of the hinges making your heart race even faster. As you stepped inside, your feet almost felt like they were dragging on their own. You moved toward her cautiously, afraid of alerting anyone who might be nearby.

Her breathing was shallow, but she was still alive. She winced, a painful sound escaping her as you approached, her eyes struggling to stay open. You couldn’t help but feel a surge of sympathy for her—no matter the past between you two, no one deserved to be in this state.

With trembling hands, you carefully assessed her wounds. The blood was coming from several places, mostly on her legs and arms, but there were deeper gashes across her torso. It was hard to tell how deep they were, but they were certainly serious.

You quickly pressed against the worst of her wounds. She let out a pained groan, weakly trying to shift her body, but she couldn’t move much. The bindings kept her in place, and all you could do was try to stem the flow of blood.

Her body tensed at the pressure, and she let out a strangled cry. You couldn’t bear to think of how long she had been like this, how much time had passed since she’d been brought here.

As you worked, a noise caught your attention—a soft mumbling, almost unintelligible. Your blood ran cold as you turned your head toward the sound, your eyes locking on a partially open door to another room, connected to where you were. The figure of someone moved within, their back to you.

You didn’t need to see their face to know who it was.

The hair on the back of your neck stood on end as panic surged through you, but you forced yourself to remain calm. You looked back at the girl, who was still breathing heavily but seemed barely conscious.

You couldn’t leave her. You couldn’t.

But you also knew that the moment the killer came back in, you’d both be in even more danger. You had to act fast.

Carefully, you stood and slowly, almost silently, backed away from the girl, your heart pounding in your ears. You closed the door behind you as quietly as possible, the faintest creak echoing in the silence of the house. You took a breath, holding it as you peered through the crack in the door.

Just as you thought you were safe, you saw the killer reappear in the room, the door creaking open. His cold gaze flicked to the girl, who was still bound to the chair. Without even glancing around, he stepped forward, his hands moving to adjust the knife in his grip.

You sucked in a breath, watching in silence as he leaned down, brushing his fingers over her bloodied face.

The knife glinted under the dim light as he loomed over her, speaking in a low, almost amused tone.

And then, your body tensed—your instincts screamed at you to leave, to run before he noticed you.

The moment you stepped back, the sharp crunch of broken glass beneath your foot was like a thunderclap in the otherwise silent house. Your heart froze in your chest, you lifted your foot, eyes immediately widening.

Your breath caught in your throat as you heard a slow, deliberate creak from behind the door. The hairs on the back of your neck prickled. Without even thinking, your gaze snapped toward the crack between the door and the frame. And there he was.

The killer. His white mask was the only thing visible, but it was enough. You could feel the weight of his gaze through the small sliver, cold, calculating. The mask seemed almost too calm, too collected. He hadn't even flinched at the noise. No, he was waiting. He was waiting for you to realize the mistake you'd just made.

The cruel, teasing voice that followed was enough to freeze you in place.

"Well, well," he purred from behind the door, his tone dripping with amusement. "Looks like we've got a curious little mouse here, don't we?"

Your stomach dropped as the fear, the raw terror, finally gripped you. You felt your pulse thunder in your ears as he slowly, almost deliberately, tilted his head, eyes still hidden behind that mask.

Before you could even think, before your body could process anything else, you screamed. The sound was torn from your throat, pure panic flooding every fiber of your being. You scrambled backward, your feet slipping slightly on the old wooden floor as you scrambled toward the staircase, your heartbeat pounding so loud in your chest that you could hardly hear anything else.

Your mind screamed at you to move faster, but your legs felt like they were made of lead. Every step you took seemed to echo in the vast, empty space, and you could already hear his footsteps behind you—closer, too close.

You shot a desperate glance over your shoulder as you reached the stairs. The killer was still there, stepping into the hallway, his slow, deliberate pace making your heart race even faster. His mask was almost inhuman in its stillness, but there was a look in his posture—predatory, like he was enjoying the chase.

You stumble down the creaking, narrow staircase, your breath coming in ragged gasps as panic claws at your chest. Tears blur your vision, streaking your face as the blood on your trembling hands smears across the banister. You don’t dare look back. You can’t.

Above you, his voice echoes through the decaying walls, low and mocking, sending chills down your spine.

“Run all you want,” he calls, his tone light, almost playful. “You know I’ll catch you.”

Your foot catches on a loose board, nearly sending you sprawling, but you grip the railing and push yourself forward. His words follow you, slithering into your ears like poison.

“You can’t hide from me. You know that, don’t you? I’ll always find you. Always.”

The air is heavy with the smell of dust and mildew, but it does nothing to muffle his voice.

“You and that little curiosity of yours,” he sneers, his footsteps steady and unhurried. “That’s what got you into this mess. You wanted to see what was behind the curtain, didn’t you?”

Your heart pounds in your chest, your legs screaming in protest as you take the steps two at a time.

“No one else deserves you,” he continues, his voice dipping into something darker, more possessive. “Only me. And if I can’t have you…”

You swallow back a sob as his words twist, their meaning sharp as a blade.

“…then no one can.”

Your foot hits the landing, and you dart into the next corridor, the peeling wallpaper and flickering lights a blur around you. Still, his voice lingers, wrapping around you like a noose.

“You’ll be mine in the end. You know it. Why keep running, darling? Why deny the inevitable?”

You bite down on your lip to stifle the cry threatening to escape. The hallway stretches endlessly before you, and the sound of his steps—slow, deliberate—echoes closer, as if he’s right behind you.

Your chest burns as you push forward, forcing your legs to move despite the overwhelming ache. The hallway feels endless, the dim, flickering lights above casting warped shadows that seem to close in on you. Each creak of the floorboards behind you makes your heart skip a beat, his taunting voice dripping into your ears like acid.

“You can’t run forever,” he hums, his tone like a lullaby meant to unsettle. “Every step you take just brings you closer to me. Don’t you see? This is fate. You were made for me.”

A sob escapes you before you can stifle it, your body betraying the terror that threatens to consume you whole. You glance frantically over your shoulder, but the staircase behind you is empty. He isn’t there, and yet his voice sounds as if it’s just over your shoulder, like he’s breathing down your neck.

You shove open a door at the end of the hall, the old wood groaning on its hinges as you stumble into what looks like a storage room. Rusted tools hang on the walls, their edges sharp and unforgiving, glinting faintly in the pale light from a single bare bulb swaying overhead. Your breath catches as you scan the room, desperately searching for a way out.

“There you go,” he purrs, his voice impossibly close now, like he’s whispering directly into your ear. “Hide, if it makes you feel safer. I like when you play hard to get. It makes it so much sweeter when I finally catch you.”

You slam the door shut and lock it, your shaking hands fumbling with the rusted bolt. The sound of his footsteps grows louder, heavier now, deliberate in their approach. You back away from the door, your eyes darting around the room. The windows are boarded up, thick planks of wood nailed across the frames, no hope of escape.

Your breathing is shallow, uneven. Your hands curl into fists, fingernails biting into your palms as you try to will yourself to think. Focus. Focus.

Then, silence.

The footsteps stop. His voice is gone.

Your heart pounds in the stillness, the quiet almost worse than his taunts. You strain your ears, listening for anything—any sign of movement, any sound that could tell you where he is. But there’s nothing.

A soft knock on the door shatters the quiet, making you jump back with a gasp.

“Are you scared?” he asks, his voice calm now, almost tender. “You don’t need to be. I’ll take care of you. I’ll make this quick.”

The doorknob jiggles. Once. Twice. Then, a violent bang as he slams against the door, rattling the frame.

You scramble backward, your hands blindly reaching for anything, and they land on something cold and solid—a wrench, heavy and covered in dust.

Another bang. The bolt starts to bend under the pressure.

“I’m coming in, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a sickening glee. “Let’s end this little game, shall we?”

The door bursts open, and there he is, silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway, his figure towering, his shadow stretching across the floor like it’s ready to swallow you whole.

But you’re ready this time. Your grip tightens on the wrench, and as he steps into the room, you swing.

Part 2 here

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

Taglist: @totallynotj3zz @starfallia @jiryunn @yangjungwonnie

@miainthestarsss @caithefly @hhyvsstuff @kkamismom12

@ilyunjina @xiaoquanquans @heeseungspookie @flwwon

[sanchoyo]

the problem with me wanting to write out a whole entire fic with all ocs (like, my tmm next gen fic, or my fangan ronpa series) is that ppl read fic for the established charas and getting into smth new requires SO much more attention and energy imo (which is why /i/ struggle to watch/read new stuff all the time! so I get it!) and I guess maybe not a lot of ppl want to even click oc-only or oc-heavy type of fics so they don't even give it a chance! which again i GET but. but also its like. pspsps this story is fun and good if I do say so myself u want to read abt my ocs sooo bad *enticing u with treats*

[cxffecoupx]

sundays

choi seungcheol x reader pure fluff, very domestic allowing their partner to sleep in because they were overworked anyway and need the rest with scoups wc: 995 warnings: mentions of food author's notes: first request from the prompt list. thank you so much anon! most of the feelings i wrote this with comes from all the stress last week, so this was pretty healing for me to write. also i tried a different style in this, not sure i liked it at first, but do lemme know what you guys think. also, i love domestic, boyfriend seungcheol, if it wasnt already obvious.

saturday; 8:26 p.m.

the soft vibrations startle you in the quiet hum of the library. people look towards you, some annoyed, some with no particular expression on their faces. dead inside.

somewhat like you.

you mutter apologies as you rush out with your phone. seungcheol's name lights up the screen. you pick up the call.

"hey baby."

"hey, cheollie."

"have you eaten yet?"

"no; i still have a little to finish the chapter. so maybe after that..."

"baby..." you swear you could see the pout on his face when you hear his voice. "how many times have i asked you not to starve yourself?"

"cheol, i'm not starving, i promise to eat after this chapter."

"you want me to order something for you?"

"no no, i'm good. i'll grab something from the cafe. i gotta go, i'll call you when i reach room, okay?"

after a hum, you end the call and go back to your table.

-----

saturday; 11:52 p.m.

you were writing notes - two three textbooks open on the desk, along with your laptop, and notebook on your lap, your pen tucked above your lips as you ponder something. the weighted blanket covers the chair and your figure, and although sleep is fluttering in your eyes, the thought of having to physically get up and out of this cozy comfortable cocoon makes you wanna sleep in the chair itself.

your phone buzzes with a text, making you groan because you'd have to pull yourself out of the position you're currently in. you do it anyways, and see that seungcheol had sent you a text.

big baby🍒: you up for a walk? me: i have to study me: :( big baby🍒: who are you kidding? big baby🍒: we both know youre falling asleep rn me: >:( me: but you make a good point me: when are you leaving? i'll get ready big baby🍒: already in front of your door

you get ready quickly and open the door to find seungcheol waiting out, cheeks red and lips shivering. you smile as you pull his face to yours to kiss his lips, mumbling a weak excuse that it's to warm them up. he wraps his scarf round your neck and interlinks your hands as you head for the walk.

when you return an hour later, it's with much reluctance that seungcheol says he should leave. but then he pouts every half minute after muttering his decision.

"do you wanna stay over tonight?" you offer, knowing fully well he would never reject. he doesnt even hear the whole question before he's kicking off his shoes and entering your room. you head over to your wardrobe to take out some of his clothes he'd left behind at various points of your relationship and bring it to him. when he's done freshening up, he comes out to see you settling back into your cocoon, head deep in the books. he decides to keep company as he lays on the bed, scrolling through his phone.

-----

sunday; 2:57 p.m.

seungcheol had fallen asleep some multiple times in between keeping you silent company, but when he wakes up now, he's full awake and shocked to see you still sitting at your desk, now with some snack packets littering around. he decides to walk over and call you to bed, but that's when he notices that your eyes are half-closed and your head hanging in a way that makes him wince. drool almost makes its way down your chin before he takes a tissue and wipes it off. he gently nudges you awake.

"yn, baby. you need to get to bed. come on now."

he's honestly surprised when you easily comply, maybe because of your half-asleep state, because usually you'd reject and sit for some time more. the walk that he'd planned to tire you out had worked, he thinks to himself, as he supports your asleep body to your bed and lays you down, tucking you in the soft, weighted blanket - your favourite - before settling in beside you.

as he drifts back to sleep, he hears you murmur to him.

"seungie, wake me up early tomorrow, okay?"

it's only after he reassures you that he will that you finally wrap your arms around his torso and settle into the warmth of his chest before falling asleep.

-----

sunday; 11:17 a.m.

seungcheol is awakened by you snuggling closer to him. it's way past the time he was asked to wake you up at, but he wouldn't dare wake you up when you seemed to sleep so peacefully. that too on an off day? he could never.

he takes his sweet time admiring your features during this moment of calm: your eyelids that are open in the slightest, the little sniffs with each breath you take because winters meant you're cold at every passing moment, the hair that fell out of the neat bun you made before going to bed, puffy cheeks that seem to move as you chew on something in your dream (he guesses). his urge to touch your face overpowers every other thought as he lightly traces his finger along the line of your brow. this seemed to have woken you up because you sigh before opening your eyes; the first thing you see in the morning being his handsome, bed-face that's smiling towards you.

a view you could never get tired of.

you press the lightest of kisses on his lips and turn to check your phone. panic seeps into your brain within a millisecond when you realize its way past your wake-up time. you sit up in a swift motion.

"cheol, i asked you to wake me up at 7!"

"relax baby, it's a sunday."

"but-"

before you could argue back, he sits up and places a smooch on your lips.

"no buts. you don't have to rush every time; it's alright to take breaks."

another kiss.

"good morning, baby. let's go make some pancakes."

[neil-gaiman]

Hello Neil, my name is Zalean. If you have a few minutes, I wanted to tell you a little story. Not really a question and I’m not sure how to use tumblr but I wanted to say thanks so much for coming to Florida a few months back and talking with Art Spiegelman. It was my first time ever figuring out how to buy tickets for something. I lived in, middle of nowhere, Vermont for most my life and had no idea what I was doing, I had never been to anything before, nothing had made me excited enough to do the 5 hour drive. And then you just appeared 20 minutes away from where I am living now.

See, I was just starting to get to know your books and work because I fell in love with Good Omens so deeply when I discovered it during season twos release. Funny thing is, I knew of you all along without even realizing it, Stardust has been my favorite book and movie since I was a kid because it was my dad’s favorite story. Finding out my two favorite things were actually connected, I started trying to get hands on as many of your books as I could. I hadn’t read in years before finding your books. It was eye opening.

The talk event at the Dr.Phillips Center was sold out by the time I knew about it, someone had asked me if I knew of the event when they saw my Good Omens keychains my mom had made me. I called the box office because there is no harm in asking. I explained how I’m an art student at UCF and desperately wanted to be inspired and learn from you both. The customer service people were amazing and ended up calling me back to get me a seat in the orchestra pit before they were released to the public. I drove alone, I walked there alone, I sat alone, and it was worth it. I was so thankful to get a seat and grateful to my professor who was a bit jealous he didn’t know about it but let me leave class early to go because of course the art professor would be understanding for any learning opportunities in the arts. And it was truly wonderful, it seemed real and that’s what I wanted. I didn’t want a show. I just wanted to hear, in some sense, that you were like everybody else. I brought a notebook and pen for any information or story’s that I thought made a difference to my little life. The other people around were wonderful, you inspire kind people.

Like I said, I had never been to anything like this and I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know you would have signed books and I only found out because the people next to me came in late. I asked them why they brought the books after it was over and the lights turned on. They did look at me like I had three heads for a moment until they realized I didn’t know there were books to buy, they looked kinda sorry for me but they were so nice. I had never really thought about the importance of someone’s scribble before this but it’s something that proves you were there. It says “Remember when this person made you happy? Remember when they changed your life? Remember when they gave you hope? Look at this and remember.” I hope to see David Tennant and Michael Sheen to get an autograph now that I understand the meaning behind it a bit more but honestly I just love diving into everyone’s projects, the wonder you all create. Oh what fun it is to live a life full of stories!

The people that were sitting next to me let me look at their signed books and hold them. I flipped through some of the big ones, handed them back and expressed my gratitude just to be in the theater. I showed them all my little quotes I wrote down, I never want to forget why I create things and you say so much about never stopping, always creating. Then the women handed me a different book, a smaller book, but when I tried to hand it back, a bit confused, she softly placed it back in my open hands and said “I want you to have it, we have plenty and I want you to love these stories just as much as we do. It’s just starting for you, I want you to remember who started it”. The book she handed me being“The Ocean at the End of the Lane”. The first book I decided to read by you and had just finished a week before. The women had no idea she given me a signed copy of the book that made me want to read again. Your books make the world better. For such a big theater and such a big stage, I just wanted to tell you my little point of view.

The story you told about wishing you enjoyed the past more than you did, I hope you get to enjoy it now, and I hope you want to. And thank you, to you and to Terry Pratchett for creating something special. I convinced my dad to watch Good Omens with me over December break, he loved it.

I forget sometimes that everything is someone's first time, and then I read something like this and feel like I need to remember that better. I'm glad the people beside you were kind.

[radio-fmm]

one piece men react to you screaming their full name

ft. Ace, Zoro, Sanji

SFW, mentions of alcohol and smoking, gn reader

Masterlist

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ .ᐟ ᡣ𐭩

Ace

“PORTGAS D. ACE” your voice resonates through all the walls, rooms and every nook and cranny from the Moby Dick. The mentioned stood frozen at the dinner table fork still full of food, he knew better than to run away

“What did you do now?” Marco asked eyes wide open

“Nothing!… that I remember” Ace scratched the back of his head trying to make memory of his recent activities, searching for whatever may had upset you

Marco laughed in disbelief “You’re a dead man” he said before taking another sip of his drink

You entered the room, stomping your way to your clueless boyfriend “May I have a word with you?” The tone and the politeness of the sentence made Marco fear for his dear friend. Ace nodded before he stood up and followed behind smile beaming in hopes you’ll have some mercy. A chorus of teasing ‘UUUUH’s were heard as you exited the dining room.

“Have I told you how radiant you look today?” Ace leaned over to kiss your cheek but you ducked making him loose his balance

“Don’t start with me Portgas” a shiver ran down Ace’s back, both from fear and… something else.

“You did this” you held a pillow cover in front of his face “You burned my only bed sheets, and you’re getting me new ones even if you end up in debt with everyone on this ship”

Ace was attracted to you all the time, but there was something in the way you would always stand your ground and how gorgeous you looked right now that was knocking him out of his feet. He placed his hand in the one were you held the pillow cover and pulled you in for a hug

“Im sorry sweetheart I’d get you new ones on the next island, you can borrow mine for now” you rolled your eyes and sighed, he got you wrapped all around his finger and he knew it, you couldn’t be mad at him for long

“Of course I’m taking yours, you sleep at my bed every night anyways… but wash them first” Ace picked you up and pampered your face with kisses “You look so hot when you’re angry

Zoro

“RORONOA ZORO” you screamed while exiting to the deck where he was working out, all of the straw hats looked back at Zoro in fear, Sanji holding in a laugh

Few things made this man flinch but he couldn’t help but catch himself lose balance when he heard his full name exit your lips in such an angry tone followed by your big stumps getting louder as you got closer

Everyone wrapped up whatever they were doing and ran off to the kitchen, leaving Zoro to face his demise alone

“What now?” He played it off trying to sound as nonchalant as he could not even looking your direction

“How many times have I asked you to not leave your sake around my desk?” If looks could kill your boyfriend would be a dead man

“Where am I supposed to put it then?” He scoffed crossing his arms in front of his chest, he looked at you for a second and his heart clenched at the cute way your brows furrowed and your arms rested on your hips

“Oh! I don’t know maybe, just getting silly here, IN THE PANTRY WHERE IT BELONGS!” Zoros condecency was driving you insane making your tone scale

The swordsman noticed how you were getting tense and teardrops threaten to run down your cheeks, he sighed a little embarrassed he had made you this upset. He cupped your cheeks while he apologized in that soft tone he reserved just for you

“I’m sorry I forgot to put it away last night, it won’t happen again I promise” he drew comforting circles around your cheek as he whispered

“It got all over my notebooks” oh so that’s why you were so shaken up

“I’ll clean it up baby” your boyfriend kissed your forehead as he made his way to the kitchen for a towel, as he opened the door every crew member fell comically on top of each other, they were ears dropping as they do.

Before Zoro could complain, your sweet laugh was heard at the distance which made him smile a little “You should listen to her mosshead” Sanji muttered which made the swordsman’s smile drop and scream back at him

Sanji

“BLACK LEG SANJI” even though you were screaming at him, the cook couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter at the way you wouldn’t use his birth last name as you knew he despised it and what it stand for, instead raging while using his public name.

You stormed in the kitchen eyes fixed on him, even angry Sanji thought you were breathtaking

“Yes my world?” he beamed a smile at you which you didn’t know if it annoyed or charmed you

“What have I said about smoking indoors?” Sanji felt the air get stuck in his throat, his eyes drifted from yours in shame

“I uhm-“ he laughed nervously as you got closer and closer cornering him against the counter, both hands caging him while they rested on said counter

“You know damn well I hate when my clothes smell like cigarettes, now imagine how I feel when my whole room stinks” you grabbed Sanjis tie to move his face closer to yours without breaking eye contact, you knew exactly what to do to make him a nervous wreck

The blondes heart couldn’t help but skip several beats at the way you were acting right now, he felt bad about upsetting you but he could get used to this side of you

“My apologies love, you know I cant manage to go without a smoke and sometimes I don’t want to leave your side” he twitched when his gaze met yours as he tried to explain himself

“Well you better start to manage” with a torturous slow move you took the cigarette that hanged from your boyfriends lips and threw it on the floor before stepping on it to take it out “Or I’ll move out of the room” you smiled teasingly while exploring his handsome features, stopping at his lips.

The cook turned all shades of red and pink breathing heavily, squirming a “Yes ma’m” before you kissed him passionately and breaking it abruptly

You winked at him before leaving the poor poor man absolutely stunted and a hot mess

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ .ᐟ ᡣ𐭩

Hi! This is my first time doing this type of format so tell me what you think and feel free to request. English is not my first language so correct me if I made any mistakes.

[sunflowerhyun]

how he sees me | hwang hyunjin | part two

ᝰ summary: “Do you love me?” she asked.

In his hesitation, she found her answer.

OR, alternatively, Hyunjin is a little bit of an asshole and Y/N just misses him.

ᝰ pairing: hwang hyunjin x fem!reader

ᝰ genre: ex-childhood-friends-to-lovers, punk!hyunjin au

ᝰ warnings: ! MDNI ! cursing, many references to past situations (in italics), alcohol consumption, angst, themes of depression, slight smut (?) consisting of making-out and brief grinding

ᝰ wc: 8k+

ᝰ a/n: it’s 4am and the long awaited part two is finally here!!! this part is a little heavy on y/n’s emotions, and very angst-y (i’m sorry in advance). i hope you all enjoy it just as much as i did writing it ♡

ᝰ reference the masterlist here.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The first time Y/N met Hyunjin was in elementary school and she remembered every detail.

It was at the beginning of their math class, when Y/N was just starting the third grade. She remembers how excited she was to be in a new school, hair up in pig-tails, flower dress on. She was so giddy that she didn’t even mind sitting in the front by herself, happily swinging her feet in her chair as she colored on her notebook before class started. She was so giddy that she didn’t even notice when her teacher, Mrs. Anderson, had walked in with a little boy, standing beside her with his hands clutching his scooby doo lunch box.

He was dressed in a nice blue button up and khakis, cheeks chubby with a slight pinkness to them. His hair was nicely cut and slicked back at the top; he looked like a proper little boy, which is exactly what he was.

Mrs. Anderson started talking, to introduce the new student as Hyunjin from South Korea, and Y/N immediately felt even more giddy.

He had enthusiastically introduced himself and Mrs. Anderson told him to sit wherever he wanted. Y/N pouted slightly at this, knowing he would choose a seat next to someone else, as nobody ever wanted to share a desk with her if they could help it. Her eyes widened slightly whenever he had threw his lunch box on the desk beside hers, and she looked up in surprise, seeing a sly grin take over his lips as he sat down.

“Hi.” He spoke, side-eyeing her as he took out his own notebook and a pencil.

“Hi, Hyunjin. My name is Y/N!” She excitedly grinned, and Hyunjin faced her. He gave her a quick glance from head-to-toe, a grin forming on his lips as he let out a, “Hi, Y/N. You remind me of a flower. Do you like flowers? My favorite ones are roses. My nanny says they are a symbol of love, but I have no idea what that means. Do you like roses, too?”

The talking continued all until lunch, when Hyunjin had sat with her at the lunch table in the cafeteria. He was eating some dumplings, while Y/N was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She had asked them if they were good, and he started feeding her bites of his. In return, she halved her sandwich and shared it with him.

In between bites and giggles, Y/N had quickly found out that Hyunjin liked to talk. He talked and he talked until school was dismissed, where he was forced to leave her side for the day.

“We are going to be the best of friends!” Hyunjin had spoke as he stood up after the teachers called out his name, indicating his ride was here to pick him up.

“Pinky promise?” Y/N had asked, holding her pinky up in the air. He giggled at this, not hesitating to wrap his around hers with a, “I pinky promise!”

It’s funny how things turn out, isn’t it?

Pinky promises were just full of shit. Y/N knew that, and yet she still made them anyway. And out of the many that she has made, it only took one broken promise to completely change everything; it only took one broken promise from him to completely change everything.

Y/N had grown up with him, had spent every single second of her free time with him amongst the stars and the skies and whatever else. He was there when she had her first period, standing at her front door with a box of pads and some chocolate milk his nanny had bought for him to give her after she had ignored him for two days and yelled at him for stepping on the back of her shoes at recess. He was there when she had gotten her first job as a waitress at a café up the street, being her first customer and tipping her $50 for a simple cup of coffee and a bagel, just because he knew she was struggling with money. He was there when her grandma had passed away from breast cancer after a long two years of fighting, laying with her for hours in the pitch black dark and silence, holding her while she cried in his chest.

Y/N remembered every detail of their friendship, whether it be the good or the bad, but what she remembered most was the little things that he never saw in himself.

Whenever he smiled, his eyes would form little crescents and his laugh would sound like her favorite song. He always tilted his head back whenever he would laugh at something stupid, and Y/N hated when he did that because everything went dull and dark. But whenever he looked back at her, the light would return as quickly as it faded and the universe would spin again.

Whenever he was anxious about something, his foot would bounce up and down repeatedly. Y/N would always have to put her hand on the top of his thigh to remind him to calm down, and she remembered the look on his face each time. His cheeks would redden slightly, a sheepish smile on his lips, and he would mumble out a soft apology. Everytime she moved her hand away, he would put it back, insisting that the only way he wouldn’t move his foot was if her hand stayed there.

He was the happiest when he was painting. Y/N loved to watch him paint.

He started painting in middle school, when they were both thirteen. He had decided to take art as one of his electives and easily succeeded in it. It came so naturally to him, just as everything did, and Y/N had wished more times than once that she could have that ability to be perfect in every single thing she did.

When he was younger, Hyunjin painted flowers. Roses were his favorites, so naturally, that was what he started with. Y/N remembered watching him paint whenever she came over, laying on his bed with her iPad in front of her while he sat at his desk with a picture of roses pulled up on his laptop. His eyes had a different twinkle in them while he was focused on the colors and the shapes, and his tongue would stick out slightly on the side of his mouth in concentration. She was always so mesmerized by him and would watch him for hours without complaint. The look on his face once he finished always made up for the long wait—the excited glint in his eyes, the higher-pitched voice he had when he turned around to show her, the wide smile that always reached his eyes, the warmth on his cheeks.

He was falling in love with art, while she was falling in love with him.

Coming to that realization as they got older became difficult for Y/N to grasp. In a way, she knew that she had always loved him. The little things that defined him as his own person clouded her mind for years, slipping into her dreams while she yearned for it to become a reality. He was always her Hyunjin, and she was always his Y/N.

And she hated the fact that she was still wanting to believe that.

“You’re not going tomorrow.”

Y/N didn’t move from her current spot in her bed, hidden under the covers, arms wrapped around her body and pulling herself together. Everything was dark, just as she wanted it to be, tears and make-up staining the pillow case she was laying her head on. Felix had finally gotten her out of the bathroom at the club, wrapping her in his arms and leading her outside to Minho’s car without making a scene. Majority of the people there were too preoccupied anyway, much to Y/N’s relief.

Minho had insisted on coming back with them, just to make sure they got home safely, much to Y/N’s protests. She begged for him to stay with his friends and not worry about her, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer. She already felt extremely embarrassed at the fact that she had made a scene outside, in front of Chan and his bandmates, in front of Minho and Felix, in front of Hyunjin.

Her Hyunjin.

“Are you even listening to me? Look, I really hate to be that friend, but you are not going to that festival tomorrow. It’s only going to satisfy him in such a fucked up way that you’re going to be there watching him perform. It’s not good for you. You’re not going.”

“How about you stop bossing her around and let her decide what’s best for herself?” Minho’s voice chimed in.

“No offense, but you don’t know half the shit that asshole has done to her. She needs someone to talk some sense into her because I know she’s going to want to go, and it isn’t going to turn out good.” Felix scoffed out a reply, and Y/N could hear some shuffling as she felt someone sit on the edge of her bed.

“Still, it’s up to her. You shouldn’t be telling her to do something just because you think it would benefit her for the good. People cope in different ways.”

“She had a fucking panic attack from that guy!” Felix exclaimed, the bed shaking a little as he held his hands up in exaggeration. “That should say everything! And even then—“

“I’m not going,” Y/N interrupted him, snuggling deeper into her pillow. Her head was starting to hurt and she couldn’t take the constant bickering back and forth, “I’m not going, okay? Can you please just… stop talking about me like I’m not here?”

It was quiet for a moment, and then she heard a sigh.

The bed moved again, bedsheets rustling, and then she could feel a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” Felix spoke, rubbing her shoulder over the comforter, “We didn’t mean to come off that way. Do you need anything?”

“No,” She quickly replied, secretly hoping Felix would get up and leave her alone. She loved him to death, but she just wanted to be alone right now, to wallow in her self-pity a bit longer. It was quiet for another moment, and then she felt the hand on her shoulder trail down to her back.

“I’m gonna go get you some water, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

Footsteps were heard going out her bedroom door until they grew faint, and Y/N let out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding. She closed her eyes, pulling the blanket closer to her chest, when a soft voice spoke out.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

It was Minho, and Y/N could feel his presence coming closer to her. She froze for a second, forgetting that he was even still here, pulling the blanket off of her so she could see him.

“I’m sorry,” He repeated, hands twitching slightly by his side, as if he didn’t know what to do with them, “I’m so sorry. I would have never brought you there or even offered if I knew. I can’t help but feel like this is my fault. I’m just—I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Y/N sat up, wiping underneath her eyes with her hands in attempt to get some of the mascara and eyeliner off of her face, reaching her hand out towards him. He hesitated for a moment before slowly grasping her hand in his, and Y/N smiled briefly, knowing Minho wasn’t the biggest on touch yet still let her hold him in a way.

“It’s not your fault. Exactly like you just said, you didn’t know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just didn’t want to go through that again. And it’s a little embarrassing,” She let out a chuckle, “I’m just embarrassed right now is all. You didn’t know. Don’t blame yourself.”

“I know but still,” He replied with a sigh, “I just won’t go tomorrow either. We can all go do something else—“

“No, you’re going to go,” She interrupted him, “Chan is your best friend. You’ve been so excited about it. You’re going to go and enjoy yourself and support him. Just because he’s in the same band doesn’t mean you can’t go.”

“Well, yeah, but I’d feel weird if I—“

“Minho, you’re giving me a headache,” Y/N interrupted him, again, letting go of his hand to lay back down with a dramatic sigh.

Minho rolled his eyes, “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Go where?” Felix asked as he re-entered the room, placing the cup of ice water with a lemon slice in it on her bedside table.

“The festival.”

“Oh, you’re still going?” He asked Minho, but before he could answer, Y/N spoke up, “Yes, he’s still going. And you are, too.”

“Hell the fuck no I’m not,” Felix scoffed out, crossing his arms across his chest.

Y/N groaned in slight annoyance, “You are both getting on my nerves. Lix, you had such a good time tonight, and I could tell you really liked Chan and Changbin. I was just telling Minho this, but just because he’s a bit of an asshole, doesn’t mean you can’t go support everyone else. It’s not going to hurt my feelings, I promise. Plus, I kind of want to be alone for a bit. No offense.”

“A bit of an asshole?! More like a—“

“Lix,” Minho interrupted him with a warning glare, and Felix sighed, glancing over at Y/N who was already looking at him with a pleading expression. Rather it be the tired, broken look in her eyes or the fact that she might be right, Felix found himself caving in, sighing out a short, “Fine.”

Y/N smiled slightly, mumbling out a thank you as she curled herself back up into her comforter. She just wanted them to be happy and enjoy themselves; that’s all she wants. Plus, Minho had paid a lot for the tickets and she didn’t want them to go to waste. She decided she would Venmo him for her portion anyway once she mustered enough energy to roll over and glance at her phone.

“I guess we’ll leave you alone for a bit. It’s almost midnight so we should probably get some rest anyway since the festival starts at noon tomorrow,” Minho let out, Felix reluctantly agreeing. The same hand was felt on her shoulder again, a deep sigh carrying out through the room.

“Try to get some sleep, okay? We’ll see you in the morning before we leave.” Felix softly spoke, and Y/N nodded her head in reply, even though they couldn’t see her.

Seconds later the door quietly shut and she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Everything was now silent and dark, despite the faint sounds of Felix and Minho walking around the house, and Y/N suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness, mind drifting back to Hyunjin.

Hyunjin, and his stupid long hair and piercing brown eyes. Hyunjin, and his beautiful body that was now adorned in multiple tattoos and piercings. Hyunjin, who seemed to be a completely different person, yet still so familiar at the same time.

She rolled over, throwing the comforter off of her curled up body, sitting up on the side of the bed. Glancing at her window, she noticed the stars were out. She slowly got out of bed, pulling her dress down a little as she approached the window, the stars and the moon shining brightly, igniting a soft glow. Her hand carefully grazed the coolness of the window, a tear slowly falling down her cheek as she sunk down to the floor, nothing but Hyunjin on her mind.

——>

“Do you think we’re best friends in every universe?”

Hyunjin swiped the brush against the canvas in front of him before dipping it in the now dirty cup of water, tongue peeking out from the corner of his lip, letting out a soft hum in response. Y/N rolled over to her stomach at his response, hands underneath her chin as she faced him, canvas blocking half of his face from her view.

“Did you hear me?” She asked with a small huff, and Hyunjin glanced at her briefly before continuing his strokes on the canvas.

“Why are you asking such a random question? Obviously.” He replied with a click of his tongue and a slight eye roll.

Y/N glanced around his bedroom, eyes settling on his desk cluttered with multiple art supplies and sketches, and then at the picture of her and him at the photo booth at Chuck e. cheese hanging up on his wall. She chose her next question carefully, softly. “So you don’t think that in another universe, we could be something else?”

Hyunjin glanced at her again, and she could feel his gaze on her face, but her eyes stayed locked on the picture. “Like what?” He asked.

She shuffled a little bit in his bed, hands coming down to lay in front of her as she played with the loose thread on his comforter. “Like… two pigeons running down the beach. Or sunflowers swaying in a field,” She spoke, in thought, before leaning her head on one of her hands, “We could even be married in another life. Wouldn’t that be fun? Growing old together?”

It was quiet for a minute, the sound of birds faintly chirping outside being the only sound heard. Y/N snuck a glance at him, wishing she could see his entire expression instead of only half, gulping loudly when seeing that he looked lost in thought.

“Yeah, it would,” He finally replied, voice coming out soft, unwavering. “We are going to grow old together anyway, though. So I guess it wouldn’t matter if we were married or not.”

Y/N glanced at the picture again, the giant smiles plastered on their faces as they excitedly hugged each other. She remembered them wanting to be as close as possible to ensure they both fit in the picture from how small the booth was; being as close as possible to one another was always their thing. She wished they could get closer.

“But wouldn’t it be nice to be married to each other? And to do things married people do? To… to wake up beside each other every morning, and to cook dinner together every night, and… and…” She trailed off, cheeks heating up when realizing she was definitely speaking her inner thoughts out loud and she definitely should not finish her sentence. Her hands began to grow clammy from the slight anxiety she was feeling, and she shook her head slightly, sitting up on the edge of the bed and reaching for her iPad and bag.

“Nevermind. I don’t really know what I’m saying,” She laughed out, shoving her belongings into her bag quickly before throwing it over her shoulder. “I’m gonna head out. Mom’s making dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She quickly walked past him, a soft grip on her wrist making her stop in her tracks. She looked up to see that Hyunjin had stood up, the paint brush now sitting in the cup, his expression soft. “It would be nice,” He let out, and Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, “We already do those things, anyway. But you know you’re the only person I’d want to do it with. You’re my best friend.”

Best friend. Right. They are best friends, and that’s all it would ever be.

“Yeah,” She replied, eyes trailing down to the plush of his lips. The last time they kissed was when they had their second make out session in the back seat of his car after he finished soccer practice two weeks ago. Her cheeks started to heat up at the memory, and she found herself biting her bottom lip slightly when remembering the sound he made whenever she accidentally pressed down too hard on his lap.

Hyunjin noticed, finding himself doing the same as his teeth sunk into his lower lip, the grip on her wrist tightening slightly. Nothing was said for a minute, the tension shifting in the air. And then his lips were on hers for the third time.

Y/N doesn’t know who initiated it first, but she didn’t care. The bag that was on her shoulder fell to the floor with a soft thud and his hands were cupping her face. She put hers on his shoulders, trailing them up and down, not exactly sure where she should put them. She just wanted to feel him in more ways than one, so she took a step forward, his knees hitting the edge of the bed as he fell on top of it. Their kiss broke, but only for a second before Y/N was climbing on top of him, a small moan escaping his lips as she kissed him again.

She was definitely feeling more confident this time. The first time her and Hyunjin had made out was sloppy, but it was amazing. The second time was rushed and hot, as Hyunjin just needed to release some steam from a shitty practice he had. But this time was desperate and so, so dangerous. It was so dangerous because she was becoming addicted and eventually it was going to kill her.

His hands gripped her thighs, and she pulled back. “W-we’re doing it again,” She stuttered out, his lips moving to her neck, making the butterflies erupt in her stomach.

“And?” He replied, hands now moving towards her ass, letting out a deep groan at the fullness in his hands. He kissed her again, slipping his tongue past her lips, and she let out a content sigh at the feeling.

“I-is this… weird to you?” She struggled to get out her sentence, rolling her head to the side to give him access to her neck instead of her lips. It’s not that she didn’t want to kiss him, she most definitely did, but she wanted to see where his head was at. Which was, unfortunately, sometimes difficult to do.

He didn’t reply, choosing to pepper her neck with kisses and slight bites, and she shifted on his lap each time, soft moans filling his room. “Jinnie,” She tried to get his attention again, gasping slightly when feeling him underneath her, a tingling sensation traveling down from her head to her toes. He buckled his hips up, and she gently pushed him down.

“What?” He asked, panting slightly, lips red and moist from their spit, and she gulped before asking her question again. Hyunjin was starring so intensely at her that it made her squirm in his lap, and he tightened his grip on her ass slightly.

“No, I don’t think it’s weird,” He replied out through breaths, eyes trailing down her body and back up to her face briefly, “We’re just best friends who sometimes make out. People do it all the time.”

Do they? Y/N thought to herself, glancing down at her thighs and away from him, an uneasy feeling growing in her chest. Hyunjin noticed her expression, moving his hands to her hips instead, rubbing them a little as an act of comfort.

“Are you uncomfortable?” He asked, a slightly concerned expression on his face, and Y/N immediately shook her head.

“Of course not! I’m always comfortable with you. It’s just… is this… okay? Are we… okay?”

His hands stopped their movements, and Y/N immediately regretted the question that just came out of her mouth. He looked as if he was lost in thought, a slight pout on his lips, and his hair was slightly falling into his eyes, looking a little unkempt, but Y/N thought he was beautiful.

“I don’t see an issue with it,” He finally replied, lightly trailing his hands up and down her thighs, a soft grin forming on his lips, “Like I said, we’re best friends who sometimes make out. We’re okay. Nothing will change that.”

Y/N woke up to her phone going off, the vibration making a screeching noise on her bedside table, eyes struggling to open from the bright sun that was currently gracing her face. She blinked a couple times, letting out an annoyed groan as she covered her eyes with her hand in attempt to block out the light from blinding her vision so early in the morning.

The first thing she noticed once she somewhat came to her senses was that she was so uncomfortable. Her back was aching and her neck was as stiff as a rock, and she turned her head to the side to notice that she was currently laying on the floor next to the window. No wonder her back felt like shit.

She cursed to herself, bringing herself up to sit on her knees, back popping and a grimace forming on her lips. She can’t believe she slept an entire night on the floor. And she didn’t even change out of her dress or take her makeup off, which is something she always does, so why did she not do it this time?

Memories from last night flooded her brain all at once, and suddenly, she wasn’t able to feel the physical pain from her back or her neck, because nothing can compare to the pain of heartbreak. The dream she had last night of her and Hyunjin was fresh in her mind, hitting her like a ton of bricks as she felt a heavy feeling in her chest. Waking up to the thought of him was not a great start to her day, but it’s not like she never stopped thinking about him anyway.

Willing herself to stand up and stop wallowing so much in her self-pity, she slowly shuffled her way towards her bathroom, turning the light on and cringing at her reflection in the mirror. She looked like a fucking wreck, with mascara running down her face in streaks, lipstick slightly smudged around her mouth, eyes puffy and red and dry. Her hair was still slicked back into the ponytail and she mentally rated the styling cream she used five stars. However, she couldn’t think about that long as the events from last night kept replaying in her mind.

“Hey Petal.”

He had called her by her nickname that he made for her when they were in middle school, when Hyunjin had gifted her a bouquet of roses after her chorus concert. It seemed fitting at the time, so naturally, the nickname stuck with her. He was the only one who called her that, and he was the only one she wanted to call her that. But last night, it didn’t seem right coming from his lips when there was so much distance between them for years. Yet, she couldn’t help the flutter in her chest when he spoke to her, despite everything.

Another vibration from her phone interrupted her thoughts and she shook her head slightly before walking to her bedside table to unplug her phone, seeing that she had multiple unread texts and two calls from Felix.

lix🐥: hey ugly

lix🐥: minho convinced me to not wake u up, but i left u some ramen if ur hungry whenever u get up. we’re heading to the festival now but i’ll text u whenever we get there

lix🐥: we’re here. it’s crowded af and my social anxiety is slowly brewing 😀 gonna get some drinks and claim us a spot. i’ll send pics l8ter

lix🐥: 1 attachment

lix🐥: me and minho are currently downing this bucket of beers rn. say a prayer for me plz. miss u

lix🐥: 2 missed calls

lix🐥: hey bubs it’s been like 3 hrs since i last texted can u tell me if ur alive at least bc im ✨worried✨

lix🐥: ///:

y/n: i’m alive. i just woke up. stop worrying about me and enjoy yourself. let me know when you’re both otw home and be safe

lix🐥: 🫡

Y/N let out a sigh, locking her phone back before throwing it on her bed. She shivered, goosebumps forming on her skin from the AC that just turned on, reminding her that she was still in her dress that was now bunched up her ass. She cringed at that fact, deciding she should take a shower and wash away the overwhelming sense of depression and desperation she was currently feeling from last night, feet shuffling against the floor as she made her way back towards the bathroom to turn the water on.

She took her time washing her hair and body before finding herself curling up on the floor of the shower, head resting against the coolness of the tile behind her as she soaked in the scalding hot water falling down her body. Hyunjin had always hated how hot she kept the water when she showered, and she found herself thinking back to one of the multiple times he had yelled at her over it.

“Are you almost done?!” Hyunjin yelled from the inside of his bedroom, laying down on his bed with his phone in his hands, “I’ve got to shower too, you know! I can only wait so long!”

Y/N rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore him as she hummed to Katy Perry’s Fireworks that was currently playing on his bluetooth speaker. She just finished shaving her legs and was currently finishing up washing her body with her designated hot pink loofah that always hung next to Hyunjin’s blue one in the shower.

“Hello?! Are you ignoring me?!” He yelled out again just as she finished rinsing off.

“I told you I would let you know when I’m done! Stop yelling and being so dramatic and wait your turn!”

She heard some shuffling, and then the bathroom door slammed open, making Y/N let out a short scream. “What are you doing?! You’re not allowed in here yet!”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes even though she couldn’t see him, reaching up to tug his shirt off and throwing it on the bathroom floor, “You’re taking too long so I’m coming in. I smell like grass and shit and it’s starting to give me a headache.”

“Like hell you are!” Y/N replied, opening the shower door slightly so she could peek her head out, a gasp threatening to escape her mouth when she caught sight of a shirtless Hyunjin who was now in the process of sliding his athletic shorts off his legs. “Are you insane?! Do not come in here! I’m literally naked!”

“No shit,” Hyunjin let out a laugh, rolling his eyes as he stepped out of his shorts, “I won’t look at you. We can just graze our butt cheeks against each other as we take turns rinsing off. This is a great way for us to up our friendship level.”

Y/N could feel her face turning red at his comment, mouth falling open in complete disbelief that he had even said that, and she found herself stuttering out a mix of words that made absolutely no sense. It was when Hyunjin reached for his briefs, about to take them off, that had her finally forming words.

“Stop!” She screeched out, a smirk of triumph forming on Hyunjin’s lips as he glanced at her, “Oh my god, you’re literally so annoying! Hand me my towel, asshole.”

Hyunjin smirked widened as he reached for the towel currently folded and sitting on the toilet seat. He unwrapped it, handing it out to her with a sickly sweet look on his face, and Y/N huffed in annoyance before jerking it out of his hands. She could hear Hyunjin singing, could picture him currently rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet as he waited for her to step out. She decided to turn the hot water up slightly out of spite before she wrapped the towel around her body, opening the door wider and stepping out of the shower.

Just as she suspected, Hyunjin was still standing there, grin still on his face. He glanced at her feet, and then back to her face, a few drops of water trailing down her neck. She glared at him, “You’re not even going to say thank you for keeping the water on for you?”

He let out a chuckle, finding himself wanting to wipe the drops of water off her neck but restrained himself, “Thanks, Pedal. You’re an angel.”

“Idiot.” She mumbled to herself, letting out a small shriek when he reached for his briefs again, quickly running out of the room and closing the bathroom door. She could hear Hyunjin laughing on the other side and wanted to yell at him to shut up but decided against it.

She began drying herself off when she heard him scream, giggling to herself as she knew what he was screaming about, pulling her shirt over her head. “Seriously, Y/N?! You’ve just scalded my dick over here!”

She laughed to herself, a pleasing smile on her face as she continued to get dressed. “You’re not going to even say anything?! You keep the water way too hot! No wonder your skin is always so red!”

“Shut up and shower! You smell like shit!” She yelled back, thankful that nobody was home to hear them basically cussing each other out.

Suddenly, a loud bang was heard, a long groan following shortly after. Y/N turned her head towards the bathroom, immediately rushing in to see Hyunjin’s silhouette laying on shower floor.

“Oh my god, Jinnie!” She yelled out, “Are you okay? Did you just fall?”

She opened the shower door slightly to get a glimpse of him just to make sure he was okay, letting out the loudest scoff when seeing a smirk on his face, a satisfied hum escaping his lips. “Now if you wanted to see me naked all you had to do was ask, Pedal.”

“Shut up, idiot!” She replied, quickly shutting the door back, face flushing even more when he began laughing like the little menace he is. She decided she was going to turn the water even hotter next time.

The urge to cry again was strong, but she was sick of crying; she was sick of feeling this way, so she told herself she wasn’t going to cry anymore. That mindset didn’t last long, however, as she eventually felt her eyes tearing up.

Hyunjin was always in the back of her mind someway or another, but now that she had seen him in the flesh after so many years, she didn’t know what to think. She had spent months attempting to reach out once he had left, attempting to even ask his own parents where he had gone, and got nothing in return. Eventually, the texts went from blue to green, and her heart went from broken to completely shattered.

Hyunjin had always wanted to be an artist. He loved to create art, through paint or pencils or dance. He was always creative and told his own stories in more subtle ways, always full of light despite the lingering darkness that always found a way back to him. Y/N had noticed more times than once that he would put on an act at times, knowing how much he despised his parents, knowing that he hated living at home. She knew he wanted to leave, but she didn’t think he would leave without her. And then he leaves, disappears for years, and now suddenly shows back up as the lead singer of a band? Hyunjin had always wanted to be an artist, so it didn’t make any sense to her. None of it made sense to her.

She grew annoyed at the fact that she was crying again, harshly wiping her tears from her face. She wanted to scream, wanted to claw her skin off her body; she hated feeling this way, and she hated the way her heart was reacting. She should be angry, completely and utterly repulsed at the thought of seeing Hyunjin after the shit he has put her through. But she isn’t, and she hates herself for it.

She just missed him. She missed him so much.

Y/N doesn’t know how long she stayed sitting in the shower, but it was long enough to where the hot water ran out and her skin turned wrinkly. She felt numb to the coldness of the water, not even flinching when feeling it falling down on her, suffocating her. Right now, she wished it would. It would be so much easier.

Y/N thought about seeing a therapist for the longest time after Hyunjin had left her. It wasn’t until her breakdown with Felix that had her solidifying the fact that she definitely needed to talk to someone, as it was now interfering with her intimacy with other people. Felix had befriended her and guided her to get the help she needed, and she would forever be grateful for that. She was getting better, had graduated university in the top 10% of her class, got herself a job working in the ICU at one of the top hospital’s in the state, and had made new friends and memories. She was getting better until she saw him, and now it feels like it’s back to square one.

She thought of Hyunjin and the many pinky promises he had made with her. She thought of Hyunjin and the way he always made her feel safe. She thought of Hyunjin and his tattoos and piercings and long hair that covered his eyes so elegantly. She thought of the smirk on his lips, the fire his touch left on her skin, and she became angry. How dare he just show up again like this after years and pretend nothing had even happened?She was pissed at the thought of him acting so nonchalant, so unbothered, while she had spent years crying and praying for him to come back to her somehow.

It was uncanny, really—a fever dream. And she’ll be damned if she lets him get away again so easily.

She turned the shower off, a sudden coolness gracing her skin as she stepped out of the shower. She didn’t even bother wrapping herself up in a towel, leaving a trail of water as she rushed back into her bedroom, clicking on Felix’s location. After all, she did still have the ticket saved on her phone, and she didn’t want it to go to waste.

y/n: changed my mind, i’ve decided to come. i’ll be there soon

——>

It was excruciatingly hot.

Y/N was stood in line to get a drink, (liquid courage, of course), and she could just practically feel the sweat dripping down her back and into her skirt. The thought made her cringe but she had been in line for about thirty minutes now and it was almost her turn, so she had to tough it out. It’s insane how hot it was even at 1600, but luckily, the sun would be going down soon.

She sighed, pushing the sunglasses she was wearing further up her nose, glancing over to see a girl wearing a black crop top with Stray Kids engraved across her breasts in red.

“You’re here for Stray Kids, I’m assuming?” She let out without thinking, the girl turning to look at her, placing a hand on her forehead in attempts to block the sun from her eyes.

“Hell yeah! They’re the only reason I came to this thing,” She grinned, quickly taking her phone out of her pocket to show her the back of her phone case, “Huge Hyunjin girlie. I wanna fuck him so bad, dude. He’s sex on legs.”

Y/N felt her breath hitch at the picture she had on her phone case. He was posing in the mirror, his collarbones and shoulders on display, hair bleached blonde, biting his lip softly. She had only ever seen him with black hair, so this was new to her.

She found herself starring at the picture for far too long, the girl letting out a giggle before putting her phone back in her back pocket of her jean shorts. “Told you, sex on legs,” She grinned again, and Y/N couldn’t disagree with that statement, “I heard he gets around with his fans. Maybe I’ll get lucky tonight.”

Y/N felt a strange feeling of slight jealousy at her comments, annoyance overcoming her and she glared at the girl through her sunglasses. She shouldn’t have even said anything in the first place because now her mood turned sour and she just wanted to punch this girl in the face for even thinking she would end up in his bed.

Choosing to ignore her, she finally ended up at the front of the line, ordering the largest size of a frozen mango margarita. She took a large gulp as she turned around after saying a quick thank you, eyes scanning the huge crowd in attempts to find the B stage that Felix and Minho were currently standing at. However, she realized she should probably use the bathroom before she met up with them, so she asked the closest person she could find where the bathrooms were.

“They’re right over there!” She replied, pointing to a section where a bunch of different trailers were parked. She thanked them and made her way over there, finding the closest trailer and walking inside.

She cringed at the thought of bringing her drink into the bathroom with her, (she should’ve thought this through), but had no choice but to, stepping inside the bathroom and sliding the door shut.

After she washed and dried her hands, she let out a sigh, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She had opted to braid her hair instead of attempting to fix it, the two braids hanging over her shoulders. Her top was low cut, black, and lace, splitting down the middle and flowing over her sides, coming down to her boots that covered her ankles. Her stomach was on display, belly button ring shining from the light in the bathroom. She wanted to fit the festival vibe a little more, and she wanted to dress confidently. She thought she looked good, but would it be good enough for him? She shook her head, trying to get those thoughts out of her mind, grabbing her drink and sliding open the bathroom door.

She was surprised to see a guy sitting on the couch that was weirdly placed near the bathroom, stumbling back slightly when seeing that he looked awfully familiar.

He glanced up at the sound, eyebrow furrowing in confusion. “Uh,” He let out, glancing her body over from head to toe before looking back at her face, “Who the fuck are you?”

Slightly taken aback, she took a step backwards, “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused. Now you’re hot and all, but who the fuck are you and why are you in my trailer?”

Y/N blinked, words failing to come out, and she knew she looked like an absolute idiot. Why did this guy look so familiar, and why was he talking to her like that? Isn’t this the public restroom?

“Alright, I’m calling security.” He decided, beginning to type in a number on his phone, and Y/N was frozen in her spot. What the fuck was going on?

Before anything could happen, the door opened, and Y/N felt her throat close up.

“Han, you won’t believe what shit I just heard. I—“ Hyunjin stopped his sentence, eyes widening when seeing that Y/N was standing in their trailer. Y/N couldn’t move, couldn’t speak—she felt like she could pass out any second now. Everything was happening too fast, and she could feel her breathing picking up.

Not even five seconds passed and two men were barging through the door, shoving past Hyunjin and heading straight towards Y/N. She took a step back in fright, stumbling when both of the men gripped her arms so tightly it was sure to leave a bruise. She let out a gasp, the men dragging her like she was some ragdoll, and Hyunjin immediately stepped in front of the door.

“What the fuck? Don’t touch her like that!” He yelled out, but the men ignored him, continuing to shove her towards the door. It wasn’t until she stumbled over her feet and fell, one of the men roughly grabbing her and jerking her back up, that Hyunjin had lost it.

“I said don’t fucking touch her! Put her the fuck down and take your hands off her before I get you both fired!”

It was then that the men let her go, and Y/N immediately backed away. She let out a wince, rubbing her arms, noticing that she already had a bruise forming on her thigh from when she fell. Her arms were aching and she just wanted to get the hell out of here. This was such a bad idea. She shouldn’t have came.

“Dude, what the fuck are you doing?” The guy on the couch, Han, asked, and Hyunjin glared at him.

“What am I doing?! What the fuck are you doing? Did you seriously call them to come get her?”

Han let out a scoff, “Obviously. She’s in our trailer. I mean she’s fine as hell but she’s obviously a crazed fan. Why else would she be in here?”

If looks could kill, Han would be dead by now. “She’s not a crazed fan! I know her! It’s Y/N!” He yelled out, Han’s eyes widening slightly in realization, and Y/N could cry right now. “Get out!” He screamed at the two men still standing by the door, then glancing back at Han who now looked guilty as fuck sitting on the couch. “You too!”

“Where the fuck am I supposed to go?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care! Just please get out.”

Han let out a sigh, glancing over at Y/N, mumbling out an apology before heading out the door. It was quiet, too quiet, and Y/N refused to look up, hugging her arms across her chest.

“I… I was just coming to use the bathroom,” She softly spoke, not really knowing what else to say other than to explain herself, “This girl told me this was where the public restrooms were. I—I didn’t know it was your trailer. I’m sorry. I’m gonna go now.”

She then quickly attempted to walk past him and out the door, but a hand on her wrist stopped her. She winced slightly, and he immediately let go, letting out a, “It’s okay. You… you don’t have to leave.”

She could feel her eyes watering, a heavy feeling in her chest, so she chose to ignore him and pushed the door open. A strangled noise behind her made her stop in her tracks, voice heavy, pleading.

“Please don’t leave me.”

A tear fell down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away, taking in a deep breath, closing her eyes. This was what she wanted, right? She wanted to be able to see him again, to talk to him, to ask him why he left. So why was it so hard?

She stood there for a second before slowly turning around, eyes softening at the sight of him. His eyes were heavy, glossing over, and Y/N just wanted to hug him. So she did.

He stumbled back a few steps before his arms latched around her, holding her close to him. Her face was buried in his shirt, her arms wrapped around his neck. She was holding him so tightly, afraid if she let go he would disappear again. And she really, really didn’t want him to disappear again.

“I’ve missed you,” She sobbed out, tears soaking his shirt, but she couldn’t help it. The words kept coming out and she couldn’t stop it. “I’ve missed you so much. I can’t—I can’t…”

“Shh, it’s alright. I’m here. I’m here, Y/N,” He whispered in her ear, and she sobbed even harder. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m here. I’m right here.”

It was embarrassing, really, how easily her body betrayed her—how easily her mind betrayed her. When it comes to him, she has no self control, no mind of her own. He was here and she was here and that was all that mattered; he was all that mattered.

She was sure she would regret this later. But right now, she needed him to hold her. It was all she wanted for five years; it was all she ever wanted.

So he held her and she held him and she cried and cried and cried, until she couldn’t anymore. And when he wiped her tears away with his fingers once she looked at him, when he whispered how much he missed her and how sorry he was, when he cradled her face in his hands so tenderly and looked into his eyes that she loved so much, she finally felt at home.

“Hyunnie, I brought you some of those churros you like,” A girl’s voice was heard once the door opened, and Y/N turned around, heart dropping in the pit of her stomach when seeing the same girl from last night that was kissing and grinding all over him. “Maybe after you eat we can—oh. Who’s this?”

And maybe that’s the best thing about home—the feeling of it. Where we love is home. Even if we have to physically walk away from it, our hearts will still stay.

Hyunjin was her home. But she wasn’t his.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

▫️taglist: @hyundumpling, @hhwangsmoon, @luvyblossom, @inthefairygrove

[twstfanblog]

Hello I have a request, if you aren't doing requests please ignore this! But anyways the request is that may I have the TWST characters (especially the housewardens) and how would they react see their s/o in like traditional clothing from their world (example: Chinese traditional clothing is like qipao) Thank you so much! Have a fabulous day 💝

Qipao (Traditional & Modern) Reactions

Housewardens x Reader

Riddle

Traditional

Thinks the dress is beautiful. Even though it's loose, it still carries an air of professionalism. A perfect garment for his lovely rose. Really likes the modest nature of them.

Asks you lots of questions on the history of the garment if you know it. Ask if he could wear one as well. Just so many questions, he's pulled out a notebook to take notes.

Matching rose patterned qipao/tang suit for walks in the garden together!

Modern

WHY IS THE SLIT SO HIGH!?

Still thinks it's a very pretty dress, but he can not stop looking at the thigh slit. It compels him. Good lord, you're not even wearing tights!

Struggling to remain polite, but the dress is form fitting and you have a very lovely ass- excuse him, he needs to...be...out of the public eye.

Leona

Traditional

Jokingly calls it your fancy potato sack. Apologizes if you get actually mad at him calling it that.

Lowkey, he really likes it and does enjoy that it's still comfortable enough for you to nap with him. Half serious asks if they're pajamas.

Will start wearing Dashikis when you wear your qipao. Cultural matching ❤️

Modern

AYO-

Goes dead silent, his eyes are watching your every move. The dress is tight, the slit is mid thigh. You look good and he's pissed you're not in grabbing distance.

Tells you you can't wear that qipao outside of his room. Not even Ramshackle. Now walk closer, he's gonna...grab ya.

Azul

Traditional

Fascinated and asking questions. Both about the cultural history and the manufacturing side.

Thinks it's a very lovely dress with high marketing potential; simple yet perfect for all class levels due to the fabric and embroidery you can make with.

Lowkey wants to gift you some more because he just likes them so much and he thinks you look elegant in them (Be his spouse please).

Modern

Honestly, it took him a hot minute to really notice. Since modern qipaos are made to be so fancy, he first started picking it apart to discern value like he does all new things.

Really noticed the silhouette and how revealing it was once he looked at the chest area and saw how tight it was.

Compliments the dress but then says he has important business to do. No, he will NOT stand up-

Kalim

Traditional

OH! You look so pretty! You always look pretty, but the qipao just makes you look EXTRA pretty like every other thing you wear.

He's breaking down the outfir by the quality of fabric alone. He pouts it's not 100% some super rare silk that only grows in 4 parts of the world in Spring during the rain on a full moon.

Whining at you and Jamil to let him make so many qipaos. He will have a literally factory up and running by mid day just to make you more of these gorgeous slips so that you're always cozy.

Modern

Nearly ruins it doing a spit take at seeing you. The boy is too stunned to speak, mouth open and getting coconut juice all over his front.

Once he snaps out of it he's all smiles again and asking you to show it off. Do a spin! The fabic is so pretty when you twirl, can you dance in it!? Come dance with him!

Lowkey just way too excited about you being in them. Fills him with some kind of energy where he just wants to hold you and spin around with you. Keeps fighting himself to not get down on one knee.

Vil

Traditional

'Oh?'

Interested in them but has his complaints (as always). He doesn't like how they hang shapeless, but the positives manage to outweigh the negatives in its function and appearance. Over all thinks its a cute house dress design and that you look nice in them.

Ends up commissioning some silk qipaos to have as lounge wear. Being comfortable, yet ready to host is an amazing new option he's gained.

Modern

'OH!?'

More complaints but it's because the dress is so sexy. It's too tight, the slit shows too much thigh, the boob window is unnecessary. He won't stop complaining but lowkey is so FLUSTERED.

He keeps tugging and picking at the outfit like he isn't pulling you into his lap to mutter into your neck all his frustrations on having such an attractive partner.

Idia

Traditional

Almost didnt really notice because he was showing you something in his game. Once he does notice he remarks on how nice you look.

Honestly, doesn't say much about it but will take notice if you wear them a lot when you go see him. He'll ask about them, asks if you really like them. He can and will buy you a bunch of them in various colors and patterns.

He does get you matching ones of your mains in the current MMO he's dragged you into. Lazy cosplaying for the win.

Modern

He took one look and froze, only unfroze because he started dying in game.

How could you do this? Why have you come into his room looking SEXY and forced him to look at you? What do you think hes gonna do???? Rip your clothes off and throw you on the bed????

He keeps peeking at you then turning away with his hair giving away just how flustered he is. Still manages to stutter out how nice you look.

Malleus

Traditional

Oh look at this. His lovely child of man is in new clothing. Please give him the entire history on the garment.

Lowkey, I think he'd really like them. It's very simple but with the potential of being super fancy just with easy fabric choices and embroidery.

Compliments you all the time when he sees you wearing one. Asks if only certain people can wear them. Do you think he'd look good in one? Just really likes them.

Modern

"...So, would you like a Summer wedding?"

This a dangerous game. He loves you so much already, but now you show him how attractive you are in tight clothing that shows off your skin? He will marry you, he will marry you so fast.

Lowkey rips it on accident, and apologies for hours. God forbid if you got one with a dragon winding around you. He honeslty got a little territorial and that's why his claws got caught on the stitching...

[innerfare]

You See His Cabin For The First Time  

Summary: You see their cabin (or in Sabo's case, his bedroom at the RA base) for the first time.

Characters: Luffy, Usopp, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, and Kid

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

——— 

Luffy: He's literally so proud of just his hammock. Insists it can hold the both of you and could probably hold the entire crew if you tried, asks if you want to try, asks you if you’re sure when you say no. Definitely has a couple of dirty dishes that he’s forgotten about, as well as a few wrappers on the floor. Has some fishing poles, a net, quite a few different games, and a bookshelf that’s full of both comic books and snacks so that he doesn’t have to go all the way to the kitchen if he gets hungry in the middle of the night. 

Zoro: Your first thought is, why does it smell so freaking good in here? You expected dirty laundry strewn around and the stench of sweat and maybe a hint of metal from those blades he was always sharpening. And sure, there is a hint of metal in the air, probably more from the many weights against the wall than his swords, but it also smells fresh, like laundry detergent. He has his own wanted posters on his wall- not just the current one, but the old ones, too, all of them lined up in order so you can see his increasing bounty. He also has a collection of unique booze bottles from all over the world, his equivalent of keeping a map with pins in the locations he’s visited. Oh, and there’s an anatomy coloring book and some markers that belong to Chopper that Zoro keeps in his room because sometimes when Chopper is having a bad day, he wants to chill with his dad big bro. 

Sanji: Sparkling clean, and yet, he’ll apologize anyway because the pillows aren’t fluffy enough, the rug isn’t completely straight, etcetera. His closet is very well organized, all of his clothes ironed and properly taken care of (Sanji’s the rare type to actually read labels and do his laundry accordingly). His most prized possession is a book on the All Blue, which he’s poured over countless times, using color coded tabs to flag various pages and writing detailed notes in the margins. He also came across one of Zeff’s old wanted posters in Loguetown, and he keeps it framed next to his own, the closest thing he has to a family photo.

Usopp: You’re surprised to find he has quite a bit of clutter in his small space. He has a collection of different style slingshots and a surplus of supplies to fix them should they ever break, as well as literal boxes full of special stars and ammunition. He has an entire set up rigged on his desk to create more, and some plants in his windowsill to grow ingredients. In addition, his bookshelves are heavy with various collections of fables and tales; he’s working on his own and hopes to publish it one day, but he doesn’t talk about it because he’s worried nobody will take him seriously, and you only learn about it when you see the notebook he left on his bed. He also has a couple of fun hats, crazy sunglasses, and feather boas that he definitely pulls out when the Straw Hats get a little too drunk. Oh, and there’s a picture of his parents on his nightstand. 

Ace: His cabin is pretty sparse because he tends to travel light. He has a collection of animal teeth secured from a menagerie of wild beasts he’s taken down over the years, and he’s very proud of those teeth. He'll tell you about each one if you ask, is practically bursting at the seems with stories. He has way more animal teeth than he does clothing or books. Also has a pretty sick tiger pelt for a rug (he had intended it as a blanket, but he runs so hot he can’t actually sleep with it). He has Luffy’s wanted poster on his wall, and beside it, a note reminding himself to send money back to Dadan on the first of every month. Buried in the chest at the foot of his bed, he has the original ASL flag. 

Sabo: His bedroom at the Revolutionary Army’s base is a total bachelor pad, and when you see it for the first time, it wasn’t planned, so he’s a little embarrassed by the state of it. He has some dirty dishes he forgot about, some dirty laundry on the floor, and a pile of books on his bed. He spends virtually no time there and probably wouldn’t even have furniture beyond a mattress on the floor if it wasn’t provided by the Revolutionary Army as part of his living quarters. That being said, he did pin Luffy’s and Ace’s wanted posters to his wall, and he has a couple of different lotions and skincare products on his bathroom counter. 

Law: You don’t know what you were expecting- would it be sterile like an operating room? You’re surprised to see comic books and a few action figures. He has some records, too- a bit of rock, some low-key emo music- and to your complete and utter surprise, a candy wrapper on his nightstand. And then there’s the coin collection on his desk, tiny pieces of metal he picked up on his many travels. You’re careful not to have a big reaction to his personality showing through for once. 

“I like your action figures.” 

“They’re kind of childish, but-” 

You cut him off before he can dismiss his own interests as dumb. “No, they’re not. They’re cool.” 

Kid: It’s as messy and ostentatious as you’d expect, but he sheepishly tries to fold the leopard-print blanket crumpled on the bed and put some laundry in the hamper, though you quickly deduce he has no clue which clothes belong in the hamper and which go in his closet. It’s shocking to see him care what someone thinks. He has a pile of lipstick and nail polish on his desk and an impressive collection of weapons he’s stolen from various pirates; he could probably open a museum with all the weapons he has. Also has lots of tools he forgot were in there. TBH, he’s probably as shocked as you are by the state of his cabin because he spends most of his alone time in his workshop, anyway. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!