#if you're reading this first of all what are you doing with your time?? second of all go and drink some water

[witchywithwhiskey]

only man allowed

pairing: toxic!bucky barnes x toxic!female reader

summary: you're feeling particularly needy one night, but when you text your situationship to come over, he reminds you that he won't wear a condom, which is a problem since it's a risky time of the month for you. but you tell him to come over anyway.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), established situationship, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering (f receiving), consensual non-consent and consensual sexual coercion, sexual roleplay, 'just the tip' trope, breeding kink, bdsm elements, some biting and marking, some dacryphilia, some pain play, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, degradation kink, pet names (baby), begging, teasing, multiple orgasms, aftercare, taking and sending nude photos, possessive behavior, toxic behavior, jealousy, referenced but not shown situationship between reader and john walker, very anti-john walker behavior

word count: 8.5k

a/n: listen, i definitely wrote this at a certain time of the month and i'm not going to apologize for it!!! what i will apologize for is the fact that this ended up being way longer than i expected!! i wanted these to be short little fics, but apparently toxic bucky won't let me keep things short 🤭 anyway, this was fun to write and i hope y'all enjoy it!! ♡

you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series masterlist

You missing me, baby?

You could perfectly imagine the arrogant smirk on Bucky Barnes’ stupidly handsome face and the playful glint of mischief in his eye as he asked you that question in response to the picture you’d sent. It was a hastily taken photo of your body clad only in one of Bucky’s t-shirts, your fingers pulling up the hem to show a pair of panties—the ones that had made him groan like he was being tortured when he’d first seen them. 

The truth was, you were missing him. You were horny as fuck and you didn’t care if he knew it—which, you were certain he did, because you only ever sent him lewd photos of yourself when you wanted him—but would it kill Bucky to show a little bit of reciprocity, instead of sending you that teasing response?

It didn’t matter that his playfully cocky words only drove your need higher, your body warming as heat flooded between your thighs. You were missing Bucky’s brand of arrogance, and it was all you could think about, the deep rasp of his voice in your ear while he pounded into you, the dirty and depraved things he’d say as his cock slid into your pussy, stretching you out just the way you needed.

You knew, without even touching yourself, that neither your fingers nor your toys would be enough for you that evening. You needed Bucky. Not John Walker, not any of the other guys on your roster—only Bucky Barnes could satisfy the need burning through your body.

So you rolled onto your knees and lowered your upper body to your bed, arching your ass high in the air. You positioned your phone and took a photo of your curved ass, barely clad in your panties, with the TV on your dresser also in frame. You took photos until you got one that you liked well enough and sent it to Bucky.

I’m bored, come chill.

Your text deliberately didn’t acknowledge Bucky’s question—and you weren’t asking him to come over, you were demanding it. You refused to beg a guy like Bucky Barnes, who refused to be exclusive with you, to come over and fuck you. 

But you knew the simple request would drag him away from whatever he was doing on that Saturday evening and get him to your apartment.

So you were surprised when he texted back and didn’t immediately say he was on his way.

You sure? If we end up fucking, I’m not wearing a condom.

The second you finished reading Bucky’s text, you shoved your face into one of your pillows and let out a frustrated groan. Of course Bucky hadn’t forgotten you were in the process of switching to a new birth control and you’d told him that if he was going to fuck you, he’d have to wear a condom.

He’d taken it better than you expected—especially for a guy who claimed sex with you “didn’t feel as good” when he wore a condom. He hadn’t thrown a tantrum or tried to talk you into fucking bare while it was unsafe. He’d seemed happy enough with handjobs and blowjobs, and had always reciprocated by getting you off with his fingers or mouth.

But you could tell from his text that he was reaching his limit and, truthfully, so were you. 

You missed the feeling of Bucky’s bare cock sliding into you, the heat of his stiff length and the drag of his veins against your sensitive inner walls. You were desperate to feel his cum flooding your cunt, filling you up with his seed while his balls twitched against your ass or clit, and he groaned low and deep in your ear. 

Bucky was the only man on your roster allowed to fuck you bare, and it was entirely contingent on him swearing on his mother’s grave that you were the only girl he fucked without a condom. As far as you knew, Bucky had kept his promise—which you knew because you made him get tested at the local clinic at least once a month. 

Still, you were only four weeks in to the 4-6 week period where your doctor had told you to use secondary methods of birth control while you were switching prescriptions. And you were so horny that you were probably ovulating—but you wanted Bucky so bad you could barely think. 

In fact, the thought of letting Bucky cum inside you when it wasn’t a safe time of the month, and was extra not safe because you were switching your birth control, turned you on so much, your whole body shivered with need. Something about the idea, how risky it was, how it might mean Bucky would knock you up, was too good to be ignored. 

You were so horny, you were seconds away from shoving a pillow between your thighs simply so you’d have something to hump against. That probably should’ve been a sign that you weren’t thinking clearly, but instead, it had you making up your mind.

You decided having Bucky over—having him fuck you raw—was worth the risk. In a brief moment of clarity, you reasoned with yourself that there was always the morning after pill. That was good enough for you.

So you texted him back.

I’m sure.

Bucky showed up to your apartment so soon after you texted him that you were sure that he either broke a number of traffic laws driving over from wherever he’d been, or he’d already been on his way. You loved both ideas, and didn’t want him to give you another reason, so you opted not to ask.

But for how fast he’d gotten to your place, he seemed content to take his time getting to the main event. When you opened the door, you’d been expecting (or, rather, hoping) he’d pounce on you. Instead, he pulled you into his arms and gave you a brief, chaste kiss, asking how your week was and how you’d been since he last saw you.

Then, as you entertained his desire for small talk, Bucky made himself comfortable, stretching out on your bed after kicking off his shoes and beckoning you to curl up with him. You did so, a little warily, and even put on a show you’d seen a million times since you figured Bucky would distract you from it soon enough. 

But he didn’t. 

You lasted all of five minutes before you were lifting your head from Bucky’s chest to look at him, surprised to find the guy you’d texted to come over and fuck you was seemingly engrossed in your show. You whined his name in a pitiful voice, “Bucky.” 

The arrogant smirk you’d pictured when he’d texted you earlier spread across his face and he squeezed you tighter in his hard, muscled arms. 

“Shhh, baby, watch your show,” he rumbled, rolling you onto your back so he was curled around your side, throwing a leg over yours and burying his scruffy face in your neck. “I’m just here to chill, right?” There was a teasing note in his voice that had you huffing out a frustrated sound.

“Bucky…” you grumbled, even as you shifted your head on your pillows to give him easier access to your neck. He rewarded you by kissing your soft skin, sending a tendril of heat curling down your spine and settling heavily between your thighs. “You know this isn’t what I meant when I told you to come over.” 

Bucky lifted himself up onto his forearm, hovering above you so he could stare down into your eyes. His arrogant smirk had slipped off his face, leaving a serious expression as he took in the pinched, frustrated look on yours. He seemed to come to some kind of decision as he stared at you.

“It’s not a safe time for you, right, baby?” he asked, each word said slowly, intentionally, another meaning laced within. “You don’t want me to tell you that I’m horny as fuck and the only thing I want is to bury my bare cock in you and cum in your unprotected pussy—you don’t want me to try to talk you into it, to coerce you, right, baby?”

At his filthy words, your heart thundered in your chest and your pulse thrummed between your thighs, and for a brief, blistering moment, you considered throwing a whole entire hissy fit because that’s not what you wanted. You wanted the opposite of what Bucky was saying—and then the deeper meaning in his words hit you. 

Bucky wasn’t really asking if you wanted him to be nice and respectful of the boundaries you’d set, even though you’d already essentially given him permission to ignore them. He was asking if you wanted to play along with the idea that you were reluctant to let him fuck you without a condom while you were at risk of getting knocked up.

“That’s not what you want, is it, baby?” Bucky rumbled, his gaze holding yours as he nodded his head slowly, the gesture so at odds with his words, it could only mean he was asking you the opposite of what he said.

You’d been eager for Bucky to fuck you—you were so horny, it was the only thing you could think about—but the opportunity of playing this game with him was too enticing to pass up. Pretending to be reluctant, pretending to slowly give in to Bucky’s whims when it was what you both really wanted, would only make the sex that much hotter. 

An excited smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, and you saw Bucky’s gaze drop to your lips, his own face flickering with elation as he took in your reaction. You waited until his eyes returned to yours before you answered him.

“Noooo, that’s definitely not what I want, daddy,” you whimpered huskily, the barest hint of sarcasm in your tone as you struggled to stop from smirking. Your head was nodding just as Bucky’s had, and he was the first to break, an eager grin spreading across his face. 

He ducked down and brushed another frustratingly brief kiss to your lips. “You got it, baby, no fucking tonight—just chilling,” he murmured, a teasing tone in his voice that had your body tingling with anticipation.

You were less surprised that time when Bucky snuggled back down on top of you, his mouth going back to your neck where he was working on sucking a hickey into the side of your throat.

Since you knew the game you were playing, it was a little easier to settle in and watch your show, all the while trying to forget the way your pussy was pulsing with need. Still, you wouldn’t have said it was easy to ignore the steady twitching of Bucky’s cock against your thigh as he hardened in his sweatpants.

It only got more difficult to keep your attention on your show when Bucky’s hand slid under your shirt, his fingers trailing idly over your stomach until he eventually reached your tits. He began kneading your soft flesh lazily, his fingers plucking teasingly at your nipples, while his mouth sucked on your neck. 

Despite how obvious it was that Bucky was taking his time, it wasn’t long before you were a wet, whimpering mess beneath him.

“Bucky, w-we shouldn’t fool around,” you murmured breathily, mouth tripping over the words as you voiced the exact opposite of what you wanted. It was like your lips didn’t want to play the game you’d started, but you were rewarded for their effort by his frustrated growl, which had you throbbing between your thighs.

“It’s fine, baby, we’re not doing anything we shouldn’t…” he rumbled against your neck, his teeth nipping at your sensitive skin and making you shiver. 

The word “yet” hung unspoken in what little space there was between your bodies, and the promise of it had you warming even more, pressing your thighs together against the ache pulsing in your core. “Bucky,” you whimpered his name, your hips twisting toward him like they had a mind of their own.

“Are ya getting wet, baby?” he asked teasingly in your ear, his fingers tripping down your body until they skimmed along the hem of your panties. All you could do was whine in response and Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, I bet you’re dripping for me.”

Your chest was already heaving with heavier breaths just from the way Bucky was teasing his fingers beneath the edge of your panties, taking his sweet time going any lower to where you really needed him. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, and your intention had been to shove his hand deeper into your panties so he’d finally touch your pussy, but instead he stopped.

“Don’t worry, baby, ‘m not gonna fuck you, no matter how wet your pretty little pussy is,” Bucky murmured in your ear, brushing a kiss to your cheek. 

Though his words might’ve sounded reassuring, his tone was a deliciously teasing rumble and you could feel his smirk against your cheek. Your body trembled, your thighs parting for Bucky of their own accord, which had him humming a pleased sound. 

“Good girl, just let me feel you.”

Bucky’s fingers finally dipped into your panties and slid down to your pussy, a breathy little moan bursting from your lips. The feel of his warm, skilled fingers slipping through your soaking wet folds, bumping against your clit before swirling around your aching, clenching hole, was almost too much. 

You had to bite your lip against the urge to beg Bucky to fuck you already, not wanting to ruin the game that was making everything hotter. But he seemed to lose himself for a moment, burying his face in your neck and groaning while his fingers slipped between your swollen and soppy lower lips.

“Fucking hell, baby, you’re drenched for me,” Bucky growled, his voice low and no longer teasing. His fingers were dipping shallowly into your hole and spreading your wetness around, making a mess of your pussy. “You feel so fucking ripe, I gotta feel it—gotta feel you against my cock.”

Bucky was already pushing your panties down your thighs, rising above you and tearing his shirt off over his head before tugging your own shirt from your body. 

At the same time, you were kicking your panties from around your ankles and spreading your legs, sitting up shove at the waistband of Bucky’s sweatpants. When his cock bounced free, you reached for his perfect length, saliva already pooling in your mouth as you gave his girth a reverent stroke.

But then Bucky was urging you back down, guiding your shoulders to the bed and covering your body with his own. You arched up into his warmth while he settled between your thighs, your fingers clinging to his sides.

His darkened eyes were fixed on the juncture of your legs, his fingers going back to playing through your wetness and spreading it around to make a mess of your pussy. Occasionally, he’d bump against your clit, which made your body jolt every time he brushed the needy bundle of nerves. 

Bucky felt so good, and you were so close to getting what you really wanted—his cock inside you—but you forced yourself to remember the game you were playing.

You grabbed Bucky’s face in both hands, tipping it up so you could catch his eye. There was an almost dazed look on his face, but he blinked and focused back on you.

“It isn’t a safe time of the month,” you said, as sternly as you could manage. But your breaths were coming too quickly for there to be much steel in your voice. Bucky’s thumb brushed over your clit purposefully and your hips bore down on his hand, your body begging for more as you whined, “You can’t fuck me bare, Bucky.” 

“I won’t, baby,” Bucky purred, wrapping the fingers that were sticky with your desire around the hard length of his cock. He chuckled when you whimpered at the loss of his touch, leaning down over you and brushing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Just let me rub against you—you’re so wet, it’ll feel so good. I won’t push inside your drippy little pussy, baby, I promise.”

You knew he was lying, and you knew Bucky knew you knew he was lying. For some reason, that made everything so much hotter. So did playing the reluctant participant, which was why you bit your lip with fake nervousness as you stared up at Bucky, your panting breaths adding even more uncertainty to your voice when you spoke.

“Oh-okay, daddy, you can rub against me—but no more.” 

The words were barely out of your mouth before Bucky was sliding his thick, hard cock between your pussy lips, making you moan and spread your legs wider, raising your knees toward your chest to give him all the access he needed. 

Bucky let out a groan and dropped down to cover you with his body, his arms digging beneath your back to hold you pinned tightly against his chest. Your sensitive nipples rubbed against him, teasing you relentlessly.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” Bucky rumbled, rocking his hips so his cock dragged between your swollen, dripping folds, rubbing against your clit and sending sparks of pleasure swirling through your body. “So wet… You’re making a fucking mess on my cock, baby.”

“Oh god,” you whimpered in Bucky’s ear, your body shuddering under the onslaught of blistering pleasure and aching emptiness in your core. 

You wrapped your arms around Bucky’s shoulders, hands digging into his soft brown hair and holding onto him while his hips kept rocking into the cradle of your body, his cock grinding against your clit until you were gushing with wetness all over his stiff length.

“Doesn’t it feel good, baby?” Bucky murmured in your ear, his voice sweetly entreating, like he was trying to convince you of something, though you were already very well aware that his hard shaft grinding into your dripping wet pussy felt better than it had any right. “You’re creaming all over daddy’s cock, baby—tell me how good it feels.”

“Nngh, so goooood,” you keened, hooking your ankles around the backs of Bucky’s thighs to get better leverage to grind against his hard length. You were caught between wanting more and wanting to keep grinding against him. “Your cock feels sooo good, daddy, so big and hard against my drippy pussy.”

“Fuck, ‘m so hard for you,” Bucky groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as he rutted into your soft, drenched folds with rough, punishing thrusts. “My dick’s throbbing for your cunt, baby, can you feel it?”

He pressed his shaft deep into your slit, the flared head of his cock bullying your clit, and you could feel it. You could feel the pulse in his hard length, joining the rhythm in your center. 

Your body reacted on instinct, your inner walls clenching hard around nothing while you whined his name, “Buckyyy.”

“I can feel you, baby,” Bucky rumbled, the teasing tone back in his voice. “I can feel your cunt mouthing at my cock.” 

Bucky’s words sounded so deliciously depraved that you wanted to turn your head and kiss him, to taste his debauchery straight from his tongue. You knew he had a filthy mouth, but his dirty talk was even hotter because of the game you were playing—and he just kept talking. 

“Feels like ya want me to fuck you, baby,” he cooed, lifting his head to speak directly in your ear. “Does your pretty little cunt wanna get fucked?”

It was on the tip of your tongue to scream, ‘Yes!’ You wanted to get fucked so bad. You practically desperate for Bucky to push inside you and impale you on his cock, to pump into your pussy bare and cum inside you. You managed to bite it back at the last second for the sake of the role you were playing, but you couldn’t get any other words out.

When you were quiet, save for your panting breaths while Bucky’s hips kept up their torturous rocking, he lifted himself, bracing on his forearms so he could hover above you and see your face. He raised an eyebrow in question, his body slowing its movement as his gaze raked over your face, uncertainty flickering in the depths of his blue eyes.

It was clear he was questioning whether you still wanted to play the game you’d both started, and the fact that he was taking the time to check in with you had your heart squeezing uncomfortably in your chest. 

It was an annoying reminder that Bucky wasn’t the kind of man to be selfish and self-absorbed in bed. Even if he was only your situationship, he made sure you were enjoying everything he was doing. 

And you wanted him to know you were enjoying yourself very much—and that you still wanted to play the role you’d been given.

“I want you so bad, Bucky.” The words tumbled from your lips as you gave in to the urge to assuage Bucky’s concern. “I want you so bad, but we shouldn’t,” you whined, pouting up at him as you slipped back into the game. 

The furrow of concern smoothed itself from Bucky’s brow and he smirked before ducking down to capture your lips in a quick kiss. 

His hips began rocking into you again, and he swallowed your responding moan greedily. He groaned himself when you used your ankles hooked around his thighs to grind back against him, your soft, wet pussy sliding against the rough ridge of his cock and making a mess of both of you.

“What if I…what if I just push the tip in?” Bucky rasped, pulling away and catching your eye, a smirk fluttered at the edges of his mouth, like he was trying to hold it back but was failing. “Just the tip—just let me feel you. Please, baby, I wanna feel you so fucking bad.” 

Bucky bowed his head, pressing sweet kisses to your collarbones, a barely restrained chuckle rumbling his chest. It seemed he’d lost the battle with being able to keep a straight face and you couldn’t blame him, your mouth was spread in a mischievous grin while your nails raked through his short brown hair.

“It’s not safe,” you reminded him, but there was an edge of glee in your tone. 

You couldn’t hide the fact that you were having fun with Bucky, playing out the little game he’d started. You were so close to getting what you wanted, that it only made it more difficult to pretend you didn’t want it. 

So when you murmured, “If you cum inside me, Bucky…” your voice was breathless with desire, and you had to cut yourself off to bite back the moan that wanted to be set free. 

Bucky smirked against your neck, his teeth nipping playfully at the mark he’d left on your throat before he responded. “It’s just the tip, baby, promise—I won’t cum inside you.”

Had it always been so easy for you to hear when Bucky was lying, or had he given up on the pretense of the game so much that it was even more obvious? 

The question flitted across your mind but didn’t stay long. You were too busy gasping a quick, “Ok,” your hips tilting, trying to catch the tip of Bucky’s cock in your hole on one of his grinding thrusts. However, it wasn’t until he pulled his hips back that the head of his hard length notched at your tight, clenching pussy.

Both of you held your breath when Bucky pushed inside. He stopped when just the tip was nestled inside the entrance of your warm, wet cunt. 

“Fuuuck,” Bucky groaned, pressing his face into the side of your neck, his hot breath fanning over the hollow of your throat and his scruff rasping against your sensitive skin. “You’re so fucking warm, baby,” he rumbled into your neck, the sensation of his mouth against your throat making you shiver all over. “Gotta do it again.”

His muttered words were your only warning before his hips reared back, the broad tip of his cock pulling free from your grasping hole. A tortured whimper slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, and Bucky chuckled as he slid back inside you, your pitiful sound dissolving into a moan when the head of his cock popped into your cunt.

“Yeah, that feels good, doesn’t it?” Bucky crooned in your ear, doing it again, slower that time, making you feel every tiny bit of his tip pushing into your weeping hole. “My cock sliding into your drippy little cunt—you’re so fucking wet for me, aren’t you, baby?”

“Yes, Bucky, so wet for you,” you echoed, unable to do more when all your focus was on not impaling yourself on Bucky’s cock. Your body squirmed beneath his larger form, one of Bucky’s big hands pressing down on your hip like he knew you were barely holding back from pushing yourself down on his cock.

“It would be so easy for me to slide all the way inside, don’t ya think, baby?” Bucky purred in a teasing tone, his hips rocking forward until he’d pushed another inch deeper before pulling back so only the tip was inside you again.

Just that little tease had you moaning mindlessly beneath Bucky, tears of desire and frustration springing to your eyes. 

Your arms wrapped tightly around Bucky’s shoulders and your legs hooked around the backs of his thighs, trying to pull him in deeper. You needed more, to hell with the game you’d been playing. You needed him inside you already. 

“Bucky, please,” you begged on a sob, pressing your face into his cheek.

“I can feel your cunt gripping me, baby, sucking on me—she wants me to push deeper,” Bucky rumbled in your ear, a gruffness to his voice that told you he was reaching the limit of his patience with the game as well. 

In that moment, you’d have done anything to get Bucky to fuck you properly, but before you could speak, he went on. 

“Do you want it, baby?” he asked, his voice rough as crushed rock, his own breaths hot and heavy against your skin. “Want my cock buried deep inside you, filling you up and fucking you hard?”

“Yes, Bucky, please,” you gasped, your hands diving into his hair and pulling his head up so you could look him in the eye. You had to blink the tears from your eyes to do it, but you didn’t want there to be any confusion about what you wanted. “Fuck me, daddy, please!”

A slow, depraved grin spread across Bucky’s face as his eyes roved over your tear-stained cheeks. You felt the tip of his cock twitch inside you, and your body gave an answering clench, like it was begging him to slide inside. But Bucky seemed happy to let his eyes wander over your face, relishing the sight of you crying and begging him to fuck you. 

It felt like a small eternity before his gaze met yours again and he seemed ready to give you what you wanted. 

“But don’t cum inside you, right, baby?” Bucky asked, a devious tone in his voice. His hips pulled back and thrust forward slowly, pushing his big cock inside you at a torturous pace. Bucky’s grin was teasing as he went on, murmuring, “Wouldn’t want daddy knocking you up, right, baby?” 

At Bucky’s words, something inside you snapped. Your mind went blank and your body moved on its own, your legs hiking up Bucky’s sides to wrap tightly around his lower back. Your heels dug into his firm ass and you whined loudly until he let you pull him deeper inside you.

Bucky’s cock impaled you with one thrust, a pleasured grunt slipping from his mouth, half-muffled against your neck. He filled you up all the way to the root of his thick cock and you moaned, long and loud in his ear. 

You finally got what you wanted. Finally, you were full of his cock.

Bucky was buried so deep inside you that you could feel his balls pressed against your ass—his big, heavy balls, full of the seed you desperately wanted him to pump inside you. The desire left you dizzy and dazed, your body thrumming with a need to be filled, to be knocked up, to be bred by your situationship.

“Breed me, Bucky,” you whispered breathlessly in his ear. 

He stilled for a very brief second, but then he was groaning obscenely, sucking hard on the hickey he’d already left. Whether it was a reward or a punishment, you didn’t know—nor did you care.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky grunted, his legs shifting on your bed and repositioning himself to fight against the stranglehold you had on his body. 

He pushed up onto his forearms so he could hover above you, his eyes raking over your face as he rolled his hips to fuck you in hard, shallow thrusts that had your lips parting, punched-out whines slipping from your mouth. 

You were so consumed in basking in your pleasure that it took you a moment to realize Bucky had gone quiet—quieter than he normally was when he was fucking you. It took another moment for you to blink your vision back into focus and when you did, you sucked in a sharp breath at the look of pure, depraved desire on Bucky’s face. 

“Do you have something you want to tell me, baby?” he asked dryly, lifting an eyebrow in question. Before you could answer, he ducked down and captured your lips in a searing kiss, the heat of his tongue flicking into your mouth making you moan. “Does my girl have a breeding kink she failed to tell me about?” he asked in a teasing tone, plunging his cock deep into your pussy and grinding hard against a spot inside you that had you seeing stars.

“Not your girl,” you managed to gasp, even through the pleasure. 

A low growl rumbled in Bucky’s chest, but it cut off abruptly. It seemed your situationship didn’t like being reminded that he wasn’t the only one who fucked you. Bucky nipped at your bottom lip, biting it a little harshly, making your pussy clench around his cock as you whined through the brief sting.  

“Does John fucking Walker know about your breeding kink?” Bucky seethed, his voice suddenly furious. His anger was reflected in the way he picked up the pace of his hips, fucking you in rough, hard thrusts that had you crying out and clinging to his shoulders, your nails sinking deep into his golden skin. “Do you let John fucking Walker fuck you raw—fucking tell me, baby.”

“No,” you cried, tears of pleasure slipping from your eyes and trailing down your temples into your hair. Bucky’s lips found the salty tears and he kissed them from your skin, making your heart and pussy clench simultaneously. “You’re the only one allowed to fuck me bare, Bucky, you know that.” 

“That’s fucking right,” he growled, punctuating each of his words with brutal thrusts. “I’m the only man who fucks this pussy raw,” he went on in a gruff, furious voice, raising up onto his arms so he could look you in the eye. “I’m the only man who cums inside this cunt, who fills you up until you’re leaking my seed all down your pretty thighs—I’m the only man who breeds you, isn’t that right, baby?”

“Yes—yes, Bucky, only you,” you cried, squirming beneath him, using your ankles hooked around his thighs to meet Bucky’s thrusts. It didn’t even occur to you to fight him on his possessive questions—he was right. He was the only one allowed to do all those things. “Only you, only you—please, I need you to breed me Bucky!”

You were getting close, but before you could tumble over the edge of your release, Bucky sat up, breaking the hold of your arms as he pushed up onto his knees. You let out a frustrated wail, but stopped short at the expression on Bucky’s face.

The look in his eye was wild, nearly feral. His hands were rough and possessive when he grabbed your plush thighs, pushing them up toward your chest until you were folded in half. His cock was still inside you, but not nearly as deep as you wanted it in the position Bucky was in. 

Your hips squirmed, a whine working its way up your throat before spilling free.

Bucky leaned back down on top of you, pinning your legs to your chest and your body to the bed as his cock slid deeper until you were so full of him, you swore you could feel him in womb—even though you knew that was impossible. 

He stayed like that, buried inside you, his cock stretching out your tight cunt while he rocked his hips, grinding deeper into you. All the while, he stared at you, his gaze glittering with the wildness that spoke of a deep-rooted possessiveness, but when he spoke, his voice was deceptively sweet.

“You want daddy to breed you, baby?” Bucky cooed in your ear, his mouth pressing wet, messy kisses to your cheek and jaw. “You knew it wasn’t a safe time of the month, and you let me fuck you raw anyway—such a silly little cumslut pretending you didn’t want it, but you do, right, baby?”

All you could manage was a punched-out, “Uh huh,” Bucky’s heavy weight pressing the air from your lungs while he crushed you to the bed. He shifted a little, so you could breathe, but it didn’t seem to matter that you’d responded, because he went on as if he hadn’t even heard you.

“You wanna feel my fat cock bruising your cervix, baby?” he huffed, pausing only to nip at the lobe of your ear with his teeth, making you clench hard around his cock. His next words came out on a filthy groan, pouring into your ear and settling deep in your mind. “Ya want me to flood your fertile little cunt with my seed and breed you—is that it?” 

You were half feral yourself with desire, with your need to cum—with your need to feel him cum inside you—and you weren’t sure if Bucky was checking in with you, or if he was getting off on teasing you, but you rushed to answer, telling him the truth.

“God, Bucky, yes—please,” you whined, your fingers digging into his soft hair and towing his head until your mouth found his, kissing him messily while he kept fucking you in hard, rough thrusts. “Fill me up with your cum, daddy, make me your pretty little cumdump, please, I want it—I need it!” you cried into Bucky’s mouth, your words half muffled because neither of you wanted to pull away. 

“Jesus fucking christ, baby,” Bucky grunted, his hot breath panting past your lips. You felt his mouth curve into a sly smirk. “First you don’t want me to fuck you because it isn’t safe,” he murmured in a teasing tone. “And now you want me to breed your little pussy full of cum—which is it, baby, d’you want me to pull out or cum inside your unprotected cunt?”

A mindless moan slipped from your lips at his filthy question, your mind going entirely blank for a split second. All you could do was feel—Bucky’s thick cock pounding into your pussy, the tip hitting a spot inside you that felt so good, you never wanted him to stop. It was too good, you didn’t want him to pull out, even if it would’ve been the smart decision.

“Breed me, daddy,” you begged in a throaty, desperate voice. “Breed me, cum inside me—please, please, please!”

“Fuck,” Bucky cursed, but he sounded pleased, too. “I’m so fucking close, baby, so close to draining my balls in your tight little cunt.” 

His body shifted and then he was pounding into you in a new, better angle, making you feel impossibly good as you careened toward the edge of your release. 

“Tell me, baby,” he rasped, his forehead pressed to yours. “Tell me you never let John fucking Walker cum inside you—tell me I’m the only man allowed to breed you.”

You whined, well aware you’d already told him—and he already knew he was the only one allowed to cum inside you. But it fed the possessiveness Bucky felt, and it felt good to give him that, so you did. 

“You’re the only one,” you promised in a thready voice, your pleasure dripping from every word. “The only man allowed to cum inside me—you’re the only man allowed to breed me, daddy!”

Bucky captured your mouth in a dominating kiss, his tongue plunging past your lips like he was desperate to fuck as many of your holes at the same time as possible. You moaned into his mouth, gripping his face and holding him close while you sucked on his tongue, your nails raking through the scruff on his jaw, both of you groaning at how good the other felt.

Finally, Bucky managed to wrench himself away from your clinging grip and his face hovered above yours, a devious smirk on his plump lips.

“Ya know I heard,” he started, his voice a little breathless and gruff, the deep sound of it singing through your body and making you shiver as your pussy pulsed around his thrusting cock. “If you cum at the same time as me, you’re more likely to get knocked up.” 

A violent shiver raced down your spine and your pussy clenched hard around Bucky’s cock. His words were going to be the end of you, you just knew it, but what a glorious end it would be.

Bucky grinned at your body’s reaction, looking far too pleased with himself, though you were too far gone in your pleasure to try to wipe that smirk off his face. Not that he gave you much opportunity, ducking down to murmur in your ear.

“Rub your clit, baby, I wanna feel you cumming on my cock while I’m knocking you up.”

“Oh my god, Bucky,” you whimpered pleasure spiraling through you at his words, but you did as he said. 

You slipped your hand between your bodies, finding your clit messy and sticky with your desire, your fingertips brushing the thick shaft of Bucky’s cock as he fucked you. Rubbing your clit in ruthless little circles, your body pulled tight.

“Bucky, I’m gonna cum—don’t stop!”

Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream as the coiled tension in your body finally shattered, and you came with a strangled cry, pleasure consuming your mind and body. 

Your release washed over you in waves of bliss that were so intense, you could feel your arms and legs trembling, your cunt clenching hard around Bucky’s thick length that was still plunging deep into your grasping channel.

“That’s it, baby, cum on daddy’s cock,” Bucky rasped, brushing sloppy kisses to your face as he rutted into you, his thrusts turning wild and rough. “You feel so fucking good, baby, you’re doing so good for me, gonna make me a daddy for real, baby—Jesus fuck.” 

Bucky cut himself off on a groan, his hips pressing flush to the backs of your thighs, his cock impaled to the hilt in your still fluttering cunt. He came with a loud moan, his cock twitching inside you as he shot rope after rope of cum into your pussy. Your inner walls milked every last drop of seed from his balls while he painted the inside of you white.

When Bucky was finally spent, he collapsed on top of you, your bodies easing into a more comfortable position. He lay on top of you in the cradle of your thighs, his palms smoothing over your hips and sides while your fingers stroked idly through his soft hair. You made small sounds of contentment, and an answering, pleased rumble, sounded in his chest. 

Finally, just when it was beginning to get uncomfortable bearing so much of Bucky’s weight, he heaved himself up onto his knees and carefully slid his cock from your thoroughly used pussy. You watched him, his gaze focused on the slit between your thighs, and you saw the moment his blue eyes darkened when his cum started dripping out of you.

You reached between you thighs, which were splayed over his his spread knees, to clean up the cum before it made a mess of your bedsheets, but Bucky knocked your hand away. He fished through the mussed up bedding until he found his discarded sweatpants and pulled his phone from the pocket. 

Your body was limp with sated pleasure, and he’d taken enough post-sex photos of you, that you let Bucky arrange you how he wanted. You even held your legs open for him so he could position his phone above your pussy and take a couple close-up photos of his cum spilling out of your pussy. Then he pulled his phone back, so your whole body was in the shot.

“Say, ‘I’m gonna be a mommy,’ baby,” Bucky ordered, a lazy grin on his face.

Between your thighs, your pussy pulsed at the words, which sounded so innocent and so filthy at the same time. Heat filled your cheeks and you turned your head to the side, trying to bury your face in a pillow while you whined, “Bucky.” 

You knew it was silly to be shy about saying something so innocuous, especially after everything you and Bucky had just said and done, but the moment was over. You didn’t normally have such a breeding kink, but you’d been so horny and it had made you so hot to talk about getting bred while Bucky was inside you. 

However, it felt like a whole other thing to play into it when the heat of the moment had passed. It felt like the kind of thing boyfriends and girlfriends did, and you knew better than to tread into that territory. 

Still, your body warmed at the idea of looking into Bucky’s camera and saying those words…

“Baby,” Bucky crooned, leaning over you and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “C’mon, I know you wanna,” he murmured in your ear, his mouth brushing butterfly kisses along your jaw. “You don’t have to be shy with me, baby, I know you’re a dirty little breeding slut desperate to be daddy’s good little cumdump.”

“Jesus Christ, Bucky,” you groaned, but you were smiling when you turned your head and met his mouth for a kiss. 

Bucky let you kiss him for a few moments before he pulled away and sat up, holding his camera in position while he raised his eyebrows at you in an expectant expression.

“I’m gonna be a mommy,” you mumbled, pouting up at the camera while Bucky snapped a few photos. It wasn’t long before you were smiling and preening for the camera, sticking your tits out and holding your legs even wider for Bucky.

“Good girl,” he murmured, catching your eye as he lowered his phone. He was giving you a pleased smirk, and you smiled up at him in return.

Bucky gently moved your legs from around his waist and flopped down on the bed beside you, swiping through the photos he’d taken of his cum leaking out of your pussy while you curled around his bicep. You had to admit, they looked hot—even the ones of you pouting and mumbling up at him.

Seeing yourself like that was turning you on and you were just about to shimmy down Bucky’s body and lick his cock clean until he was hard again when he spoke, derailing your dirty thoughts.

“I’ll pick up the morning after pill for you before I head home,” he rumbled absentmindedly, still focused more on his phone. You could see him favoriting some of the photos he’d taken and saving them to a separate folder. “And if you are knocked up, I’ll pay to have it taken care of—but don’t expect me to cuddle you and do boyfriend shit after.”

For a moment, you restrained the urge to smack Bucky in the face with a pillow. And then you thought, why not? You weren’t his girlfriend, you didn’t need to play nice. 

So you grabbed the pillow behind your head and brought it down right on Bucky’s face. He let out a satisfying, startled ‘oomph’ sound, and you chuckled as you rolled out of bed. 

“Gee, thanks,” you shot over your shoulder sarcastically as you padded toward the bathroom, intent on cleaning Bucky’s cum from between your thighs. 

But then you had an evil thought and a wicked smirk tugged at the corners of your lips. You wiped that look off your face, though, as you turned and leaned against your doorway, striking a casual pose.

“Maybe if I’m knocked up, I’ll just let John fuck me bare and tell him it’s his,” you said, giving a carefree little shrug while trying not to make it obvious how close you were watching Bucky.

You were delighted when his head snapped toward you, his gaze finally pulling away from his phone as his brows lowered into a glare. His soft mouth turned down at the corners, a furious frown darkening his face.

“D’you think John would offer to marry me?” you asked, ignoring Bucky’s reaction and tapping your chin with one finger like you were thinking. “He strikes me as the type of man who’d want to make an ‘honest woman’ out of me.” You couldn’t hold in your eye roll, even as you were trying to torture Bucky with the possibility of you marrying John fucking Walker.

In an instant, Bucky was up and off the bed, pinning you to the doorframe of your room with every inch of his big, strong body pressed against yours. You only had time to gasp while Bucky quickly gathered your wrists in one hand and pinned them above your head. His hardening cock was trapped against your belly, the stickiness of both your releases rubbing into your skin.

“You’re not marrying John fucking Walker, baby,” Bucky growled while he loomed over you. He was so close, you had to tilt your head back to look up at him, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smirking. “And you’re certainly not raising my kid with Walker’s last name.” 

At that, you had to laugh. But when you saw how serious Bucky still looked, you realized he didn’t realize you were just trying to get a rise out of him. Something about the thought of you marrying John Walker had clearly made all rational thought completely abandon Bucky in that moment. 

Instead of thinking too hard about Bucky’s reaction, you explained yourself to him.

“Bucky, it was a joke,” you wheezed, giving him an incredulous look. “Of course I’m not gonna marry John.”

Bucky’s eyes flitted back and forth between yours, like he was checking to make sure you were being honest. He must’ve decided you were because he blew out a breath and closed his eyes, his forehead falling to yours. 

“Jesus, baby, you drive me fucking wild sometimes,” he rumbled, but there was humor in his tone, albeit reluctant.

A breathless laugh slipped from your lips and you leaned back against the doorframe, hiking your leg up around Bucky’s waist. He caught it in his free hand, the movement pressing his thickening cock between your thighs, making both of you groan.

“I think you should show me exactly how wild I make you,” you purred, rocking your hips against his stiff length, coating him in the mixture of your desire and his cum still leaking out of you. 

Bucky growled, his eyes flying open as he stared at you and worked his cock against your pussy. 

“Careful what you ask for, baby,” he rumbled, his tone a delicious taunt that had your toes curling against the floorboards and your hips tilting so you could rub your clit against his hard shaft. “Or you’re gonna get another load pumped into your tight, unprotected little cunt.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, daddy,” you sassed, smirking up at Bucky and watching as his eyes darkened with desire.

In a flash, Bucky dropped your leg and let go of your wrists, spinning you around to face the doorframe and yanking your hips toward his lap with a rough, possessive grip on your body. Your upper body fell forward and your hands clung to the doorframe, nails digging into the wood when Bucky entered you in a swift, hard thrust.

Bucky fucked you in the doorway of your bedroom, making you promise yet again that you’d never let John Walker fuck you without a condom before emptying a second load inside you.

After, he followed you to the bathroom, hopping in the shower with you where he drained what little cum was left in his balls inside your pussy before helping you clean up—though you suspected he only offered to help so he could finger his cum deeper into your cunt under the pretense of cleaning you.

When you were both finally, finally sated, you collapsed into your bed together. Your mind was blissfully blank and your body deliciously sore as you cuddled together. Bucky dozed for a bit, his head on your chest while you carded your fingers through his hair and watched your show.

After a while, Bucky roused and got dressed, going out to get you the morning after pill from the nearest drug store, just like he’d said he would. 

He also brought you back your favorite sports drink and snacks, explaining in a gruff voice that he’d read the potential side effects of the pill on the box and wanted you to be prepared. You refused to feel any type of way about that.

Then Bucky kissed you and left to head home.

All things considered, it was a good thing your new birth control had taken effect, or the morning after pill had worked, and you didn’t get pregnant despite the evening you’d had with Bucky. It was a relief when you were able to tell him that your risky night hadn’t led to any of the consequences the both of you had willfully ignored.

When you texted him to tell him you’d gotten your period, he responded quickly, messaging twice in quick succession. The first text made you roll your eyes, because you thought that was all he’d have to say. 

Good.

But then you saw the second message, and you could imagine the arrogant smirk on Bucky Barnes’ ridiculously handsome face and the playful glint of mischief in his eye when he’d sent it.

It made you smile, and you had to bite your lip against a giggle, forcefully reminding yourself that he was just a situationship.

Let me know when you wanna play ‘just the tip’ to ‘breed me, daddy’ again, baby.

you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series masterlist

[xxsquiddkiddxx]

Viktor x Reader Headcanons

Pronouns for reader: Gender neutral, AFAB undertones if you squint

Relationship type: Platonic to Romantic

General Idea: Some silly little headcanons I have for Viktor because he's still my silly little princess. Even after the whole glorious evolution thing.

Content Warnings: S1 Viktor, no S2 spoilers, But there as little bit of s2 viktor's mindset, I'm projecting a little bit (a lot) but it's fine.

~☆~

I honestly see Viktor as asexual with light aromantic undertones (kinda like demiromantic, I guess??). He rarely ever developes romantic feelings. Like its a once in a blue moon thing.

Like... he has to know you for YEARS before something in his head is like "Oh... hey they kinda cute?"

However, when he DOES develop feelings that go beyond friendship, Viktor HEAVILY struggles with coming to terms with them. Not in like a "I don't DO feelings" type way, but more in a "Well... no... it could be this" type of way.

Oh, his heart rate speeds up a little bit when you two accidently brush hands? It must just be his nerves.

When he does realize that he has feelings for someone, it's kind of like that scene in Gravity Falls where Dipper is like "It's not like I stay awake at night thinking about Wendy" and it cuts to him laying awake thinking about Wendy XD

If he likes someone romantically, he talks about them a lot. Like as if trying to bring them up as much as he can. Like "Oh (Y/N) mentioned something about that book, said they really liked it" Or "(Y/N) actually said something similar about that topic" If he could yap about you for hours, he probably would.

Even if you're being PAINFULLY obvious about your romantic feelings towards Viktor, he will firmly believe you're just being friendly.

Why he does it is a mix between two things: one is that he's just not awesome with people. And second is that he firmly believes someone like you could never love someone like him back.

One night, Viktor had been constantly working without break, so you practically dragged him to his room by his ear and forced him to get some rest.

Viktor has a strong habit of having his workspace FILLED with old mugs, sometimes days old. He doesn't really mean to, just too wrapped up in Hextech to really notice.

He also struggles with meals too. Just like above, because he literally just gets too wrapped up in his work.

If Viktor actually confesses feelings, it's such an interesting experience. Because he doesn't just flat out say "Hey I have feelings for you". He stumbles over his words and rambles about something random in the middle of it. So you gotta help him out a little bit.

Viktor's love language is quality time. He'll make sure his seat is next to you when it can, he always yaps about what he's uncovered about Hextech.

Speaking of Hextech, if you just sit there and watch him work? He'd about die of happiness on the spot. If you, someone he really loved, took an interest to something he truly loved DOING? Perfect.

He used to get really flustered about physical affection. Like you held his hand one time and he about combusted. He was red in the face for hours. He got better with it overtime, of course. But for the first few months, he was pretty much bright red the whole time.

Dates are rare, neither of you have the time for it. But when you two do have dates of some kind, they're mostly stay at home type things.

You know that thing kids do? Like playing their own separate things together? Parallel play, I think it's called? Yeah you two do that a lot.

Viktor will be reading some papers and you'll be reading a book, your feet in his lap.

Speaking of, Viktor is such a reader omg He doesn't read a lot anymore due to his constant workload, but when he does, he reads a lot of like... old books. The ones with yellowing pages and smell nice? Yeah... those ones!

If you two slept in the same bed, he'd be all like... giggly and nervous the first few times. Just like affection, he'd get used to it. But it's still cute.

When you two are cuddling, run your fingers in his hair. He'll melt right into you regardless of the situation. It's like an instant relax button for him.

Him laying his head on your chest, and you running your fingers through his hair? Something about it just... works. It calms him down a lot and makes him feel at peace.

His favorite place to kiss is the crook of your neck. Especially if you're around his height (he's like... between 5'7 and 5'10. I don't remember exactly).

Or your temples. It's simple, it doesn't attract a lot of attention. And let's be real, it's underrated as hell.

He's not big on PDA, but he'll hold your hand in public. He likes holding onto just one of your fingers, like your pinkie or something like that. It, just like temple kisses, is simple and discreet.

He doesn't often say "I love you". He feels bad about it, but you don't mind. He often says I love you without saying it. Things like holding you while you sleep, kissing your forehead as you two read in each other's arms, weaving your fingers with his while he works.

He gets self-conscious a lot. He thinks you could do a lot better than him and that he's not perfect.

Please kiss this poor boy all over and tell him he's perfect as is 😭😭

~☆~

A/N:The Arcane brainrot has gotten to me... This is how I'm coping with the finale. But I've wanted to write Viktor or Sevika stuff for a HOT minute now. I've been in the Arcane fandom for YEARS (a fanfic writer even longer) but this is my first Arcane fic... wild XD

For more fics: my masterlist!

~Squeed

[swiftreader1989]

🚨🚨🚨

new theories I will consider going into the glorious rivals

FIRST THEORY: KAILEY IS LYRA'S MOM - kailey is alive and is lyra's mom. when reading the games untold I found the small bits of kailey and lyra's mom to be too similar: these are my reasons ↓ @emreads294 introduced this theory and made a great post abt it (go check it out!)

1.) kailey loves to dance, it's all she ever does and even in hannah's dream she appears to tell her to keep dancing and to teach her future daughter to do so as well. now I imagine kailey aka "lyra's mom" to also hold that true to herself, putting her daughter in ballet and what is basically so much of who lyra is. OFC lyra is going to be dancer if kailey loved it too. I can also imagine kailey being distraught, confused, and upset when lyra quits dancing her senior year of hs.

2.) kailey and lyra's mom both have very bubbly personalities and so much optimism just by the short bits we've seen of them. also kailey is said to have a bit of a short temper, who has that as well? LYRA. kailey LOVES to curse and say "bitch". guess who also loves to curse and has her own trademark aka "asshole", LYRA.

3.) kailey saying "you, glorious thing, you" comes up about five times in the hannah and toby's story. what's the next title of the next book? GLORIOUS RIVALS. now you're probably like yas you sound crazy rn and you're probably right... I do. but jlb never does anything unintentional especially if this phrase comes up so much in the span of such a short story. could this be foreshadowing of role kailey has in the next book and the rivals at play?

4.) @emreads294 brought up another great point as well and said kailey was known to be very nicknamey. meaning she loved to give people nicknames and what does lyra's mom call her? YOU AVOIDER. because she rarely calls her mother. something kailey would say...

5.) this is also random but kailey and catalina both have the same meaning aka pure. which I thought was cute and interesting if that's lyra's mother. we also do not know lyra's mom's name but her stepfather's? that's a little fishy and mysterious if you ask moi.

SECOND THEORY: TOBY SENT LYRA THE INVITE FOR TGG

-toby sent lyra the game invite in hopes to redeem himself for the guilt he's had for "killing" hannah's sister kailey.

-he says he will always be sorry for what he did to her and carries that burden. so when he finds out that kailey IS ALIVE & has a daughter named lyra. he's probably shook and thinks to himself that hannah not only had a niece but avery has a cousin.

-AND by reading toby and avery's relationship they are daughter and father. making lyra in a way his niece. so toby as an "uncle" gives her the invitation because if he can help anyone related to hannah out he will do so especially if he thought kailey was dead.

-who else would say "you deserve this" not eve or alice. they're both psychotic bitches who care for no one but themselves. I like to think uncle toby ate and sent lyra to the game!

what are your thoughts?!

[melaninfury]

Astrology Harsh Opinions

Please don’t take this as astrological facts. These are more my experience and perspective. The whole chart and aspects must also be considered.

- one things for certain and two things for sure if there is cancer in the first house or especially the sun side. I know you are a road rager and you need to stop.

- Yes, Libra placements you are people pleasing even when you’re trying to please yourself.

- I second this if you have personal planets like Moon, Venus, Mercury and Mars in the Seventh house. Just please choose yourself first and stop trying to make your identity being a savior.

-Scorpios are you done being my way or the highway about important deep, compromising issues in love? Let your toxic internal ways go and let people accept you not enable muah 💋

- Aries, you know that anger and motivation are not passionate ways to solve your emotional problems. Please feel deeper and unlike a two year old child 🙇🏽‍♀️ (movement can be still and internal)

- Libra Venus always wear or do something socially adorable. Poole either love their nails, shoes clothes, love life or simply even their furniture in the house. Y’all have aesthetic.

- Virgos and intense Virgo placements like Virgo mars in the 6th house or having planets at Virgo degrees. I always notice this connection to animals or pet companions. They have this understanding of pets being of service to its owner. So for example I noticed they always have a lifelong pet or multiple pets that become apart of their life not just an accessory. Their houses will be filled with the existence of their pet companion.I do think that being that the 6th house, rules over pets and acts of service virgos (depends how aspects and house at the end of the day) usually like or animals like them in some way. This is the person who always loves to hold their friends pets or feels like an aunt or uncle to others fur babies. Will pet animals on the street.

- I personally think voiceover astrological readings are wayyyyy more thorough and detailed than written or typed ones. But to each its on your learning something you know.

- Yes Sagittarius placements are the hidden people pleasers. Very outwardly focus. You want your thoughts to matter and who you are in the world to matter but in a way where it leads others. It’s a way to be validated but also validated for what they want not just what people like about them. They would rather instead of being called pretty and nice to be seen as a leader and wise (maybe both). If you value their opinions and let them be friendly to you. You’ll see they care very deeply about being validated not as free as a stereotypical sag sun sign but let it be in the 9th house or especially a Sag Moon. They want to be validated on a philosophical level mentally they please to know their worth, not just to be seen and in a relationship.

-I’m sorry but most people with Scorpio mars get around…sorry. Y’all always are sneaking and having some ACTIVE 👀 experiences in their life. Usually always moving with desires, one they connect on a spiritual or deep level they attach quick. So if their still talking to people or in a relationship I find them to wander when their spirit and deep level desires fade and have served their purpose. They also are just very passionate. They feel even when they don’t know how to flow or deal with their emotions. You will know if these people want you or especially want to F you. Trust me you will know.

- Virgos and Leos always skeptical and unbelieving in astrology but the first one to cry or want a reading when you prove them wrong.

- Why does everyone use astrology for fame and beauty all the time or want to look at the surface level of synastry?Let me elaborate, you say you want to know if you're gonna be famous? Why do you not have a career or a focus in mind. Hell why are you wanting to learn astrology but you refuse to study or look up different interpreters. Most information you all see is accessible if you are so hell bent on being what you think you are. First start with who are you and what makes you likable. If your so concerned if Timmy likes you, why don't you just google, study all aspects and pull up the composite, etc.

-Moon mars Synastry is a dupe. They either hate you or are entirely too handsy. But if you're lucky you are not just compatible but in tune with each other. You become intermingled into emotions spirit and creativity together. You will look good together or be good in theory but these two plants must merge peaceful. If your Synastry is chaotic or aspects conflict you will have some strong elusive emotions towards each other or one is surely to suffer if you let the dynamic play out for too long.

- Moon conjunct Uranus natal, especially if one or more planet is retrograde. Who never loved your parents and made them never show love and affection properly to you. Please figure that out before you internalize...

- Bro I don’t get jealous but if I did I would be jealous of Venus moon conjunction in general or in Libra. Y’all dress so nice, always look put together. There is style there and it’s usually distinct even if it’s not unique. You look good okay 🤷🏾‍♀️

- Sneaky sneaky Aquarius, always playing detached when you’re really psychologically (psychopathiclly) calculated and emotional. Water bearers I mean. Guard your emotions all you want. I and the rest can see you care through your actions. Even when you pretend you don’t. And revenge is still trying to emotionally hurt people!

- Water signs…yeah you question. What do you think about telling the truth just to be a good person. No need to think of pros and cons or what you’ll get out of it before. Simply just be brutally ✨ honest ✨

©️ All Rights Reserved melaninfury

[makeyoumine69]

Vibe With Me (Modern AU)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Modern AU, Patrick watches you masturbating with a vibrator during a video call.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: NSFW, sex toys, overstimulation, masturbation, squirting, Patrick is kinda demanding, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, mild power play.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 1.3k

ᴀ/ɴ: Recently I was thinking about modern AU and this idea came to me so randomly, sorry!😢

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]💕

When Bateman told you that he was going on a long business trip, you were worried because you were already too attached to him, but you didn't know how to tell him that you would miss him, considering that your lover despised any displays of affection—including any drama about you being sad when he was gone. But before you could even come up with a plan for how to broach this sensitive subject, Patrick gave you a large box that he asked you to open once he left on a business trip. And even though you probably knew the contents of this gift, you decided to wait and do what the man told you to do, so you waited as long as it took. You were so determined to be a good girl and play by the rules that you even forgot about this box because your life was so busy as usual.

The day you and Bateman had your first video call after he left, the first thing he did was ask if you had opened his present yet, and as soon as he said it, you almost choked on the air, both embarrassed and disappointed in yourself. How could you forget? It took you a few moments to find the box that was obediently waiting for you in your bedroom and you opened it only to find a small plush bear, some chocolates and sweets, your favorite perfume and... at first you thought it was a dildo, but then you read the description on the small pink box that told you it was a clitoris vibro-stimulator, which according to Patrick's handwriting was the best model so far. Rolling your eyes, you picked up the sex toy without unpacking it. Surprisingly for you, Patrick didn't insist on opening it as soon as possible, the man explained that you needed some time to find out how to use his 'little sweet gift' so that you could both have some fun.

God, that was embarrassing. 

But that was just the beginning.

That day, you were lying on the couch in your living room, the only light coming from the screen of your monitor, which was placed on the coffee table right in front of your splayed figure. The towel you had placed underneath you was already soaked with your juices as you lost count of your orgasms, and Patrick was like a sentinel watching you from the other side of your laptop, his hazel eyes catching every little jolt you made, every little shudder and gasp.

"C'mon, honey," the man murmured, his soft, velvety voice coming through the speakers and making you melt like butter. "You can give me another one."

"No," you replied, on the verge of tears from the overstimulation. "I can't...this is already too much, it hurts!"

Panting, you removed the sex toy from your swollen clit, your legs still shaking from the last climax, your pussy so wet and bruised that you were afraid to even touch it.

"Sweetheart," Bateman called to you, knowing that this nickname would break down any difference you were trying to make. "I know you can. You're such a good girl for me, you always are."

Shit, shit, shit!

"Fuck...fuck you, Patrick!" You blurted out. "I don't want to gush all over my laptop!"

"God, if that's a problem, you can have as many laptops as you want. That's my word."

Bateman's tone became more and more demanding, for a moment you even wanted to end the call and close the laptop, but his voice, his sweet praises—he was a perfect manipulator, he knew every little weak spot he could press.

Biting your lower lip, you turned on the vibrator and slowly slid it back between your legs, the second it touched your hypersensitive flesh, you almost screamed and took it away, causing Patrick to tsk so loudly as if he was right next to you.

"Don't remove it!" He almost barked in a commanding voice.

"I CAN'T!" Your voice was about to break. "It's too fucking much! My skin is burning!"

And while it was true that it hurt pretty badly, you could feel another orgasm building up inside of you, your inner walls spasming around nothing as you tried to get the sex toy back onto your engorged bud. 

"Listen to my voice," Patrick almost purred, probably changing tactics and trying to be less intrusive. "Don't push the toy too close to your clit," his lecturing was the last thing you expected to hear from him and somehow it made you feel so high, so fucking overwhelmed. "Let it vibrate within you...remember how I do it with my tongue?"

Damn it!

Closing your eyes, you lay down more comfortably and spread your legs wider, giving him the full display of your soaking cunt, the soft material of the sex toy sliding along your skin, and when you dared to press the tip of it to your little tip, Bateman suddenly interfered, causing you to almost bite your cheek to the point of bleeding.

"Turn on maximum speed," the bastard added, his smug face getting even more cocky as he watched you fall apart right before his eyes. "DO IT!"

"Fuck...f-fuck," you cursed under your breath, but you followed his order, unable to think straight, your fingers not listening and barely finding the button on the vibrator, but once they did, you moaned so loudly you were afraid someone would call the police. "I...I'm gonna cum...again.......aaa-hhh-fuck!"

To be honest, you didn't expect this little toy to be so powerful, its vibration piercing through you, sending a million tingles to your most sensitive spot, pushing you over the edge. With your eyes closed, your legs buckled, your toes curled with pleasure, you did your best not to take the vibrator away, feeling your pussy clenching until you squirted, and you did it so hard that the towel dampened even more, but you didn't really care.

"Good girl," Bateman muttered in a gruff voice. "Such an obedient girl...I'm so proud of you," he watched you come undone without blinking. "I'm so fucking proud of you!"

Breathing heavily, you finally turned off the toy and let it fall to the floor, your legs still trembling, the wetness pooling down your inner thighs—now you were nothing but a wet, trembling mess - you couldn't even open your eyes, knowing that this asshole was probably shining like a fucking Rolex he was wearing.

After a brief respite, as you slowly began to come down from your high, you turned your unfocused gaze to your laptop and heard Patrick's soft chuckle, the sound almost mocking.

"Jeez, I'd drink you dry," he rasped into the microphone of his headphones. "I'd suck on that pretty little pussy until I couldn't fucking breathe-"

"Stop," you squealed suddenly, barely able to contain yourself from the phantom pain in your core of how much you needed him to stuff you with his beefy dick. "Stop saying things like that..."

"Oh, babe," Patrick crooned, smiling at you from the screen of your laptop. "You know I would, and it drives you crazy, doesn't it?"

You didn't answer this question, but looked at him more seriously. "And what about you? Aren't you going to put on a show for me?"

The man smiled before he lowered the camera so that you could see his white boxers, which were bulging because of how hard he was. Without saying anything, Patrick traced the outline of his cock through the smooth material before giving himself a little squeeze that made you almost drool.

"Who knows?" Bateman chuckled suddenly, fixing the camera in its previous position. "Maybe... if I was in the right mood..." his lips curled into a sly, almost devilish smile. "I'd show you that I miss you no less, darling. Believe me."

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

Lemme know if you want part two with Patrick jerking off during a video call, lmao.

[asharasasylum]

♡ drabble Naoya Zenin booklet - entry 1

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗ warnings: non con. dub con. manipulation. blackmail. step-cest. smut. allusions to abuse/assualt. not proof read. 18+

Step brother! Naoya who is mean to everyone but especially cruel to you at times. He taunts you relentlessly but there is only so much he’s been able to get away with his father around. When that happens, his attention falls onto one of the poor maids and with a hand wrapped around their wrist, he yanks them to his room. 

You can’t lie, you're glad when he leaves for college, ecstatic not to have to share a house with him for the next few years. But the years roll by fast and one day he’s at the front door again, his father and your mother ready to greet him. 

He’s changed, you think. He’s always been obsessed with his appearance but maybe you’ve never noticed it before because he’s definitely in great shape. He practically towers over you when he comes to greet you, and you bite on your tongue stopping yourself from making a comment about how he’s clearly been working out, eyes falling over his thick muscles. You don't need to add to his ego.

But Naoya hasn’t really changed. He tugs on one of your plaits and laughs as you slap his hand away, already back to his usual antics. 

“Didn’t you miss me.” 

He’s back to his usual ways but for some reason he’s able to get away with more. He’s a bit rougher with you, play fighting with you, tugging on your hair to get your attention. Either your parents don’t seem to notice, or now that you’re older they think you should be able to handle yourself. But with each push you give Naoya, you get a shove back. 

It’s not till things take a turn that you really start trying to avoid him. His hands wandering in places they shouldn’t or him pressing up against you in the kitchen. Even with people around you can feel his predatory gaze latched onto you at all times. And you’re sure your fear is what turns him on even more, the game of it all, cat and mouse. 

Naoya always gets what he wants and while you’re great at avoiding him, he eventually corners you and gets you alone again. But when he pulls you into his bedroom, pressing your back flush against his chest, you tell him that you’ll scream. 

He doesn’t like that. With his hand wrapped around your throat he snarls, and squeezes. 

He gives you a proposition, you or the maids. He can see your face drop at that, your stomach dropping as guilt floods through your body. He hasn’t touched them since his arrival and while you aren’t sure what exactly happened behind his closed doors all those years ago, your mind could think of a thousand awful possibilities. 

It’s you. 

Even if you do change your mind, any form of protest is lost on Naoya’s lips. 

The kiss is hot and heavy, his lips firmly pressing against yours, not allowing you a second to breathe. He seems desperate for more though, using his free hand to venture underneath your t-shirt as you slowly turn to face him. 

You gasp into the kiss when Naoya cups your bare breast and he laughs at the reaction, using it to slip his tongue into your mouth. On one side you think of biting down on his bottom lip, drawing blood and making a run for it. But you can’t deny how easily you’re melting into his touch as the tips of his fingers graze over your nipple, switching to play with the other breast. 

You’re surprised about how easily you fall into his bed, no protest even forming in that head of yours as his fingers slip into your soaked panties. You find yourself bare before him, biting down on your bottom lip as he toys with your cunt, keeping your legs open as his kneels between them.  

“Pretty girl,” Naoya whispers before slapping your folds for the first time followed by, “Count.” 

And you tried, you desperately tried as he went between slapping your folds and soothing the harsh sting with rubbing your arousal across your pussy. One, two… the number normally got caught in your throat around five in a sob. 

Eventually you resort to pathetically whimpering “please” in hopes he’ll show mercy on you and when he tuts, you brace yourself for another slap only to be met with a finger poking at your entrance.

“You’re getting so wet,” he hums in approval, playing with the slick that has formed down there. “Who thought a girl like you would get so wet at such cruelty?” 

He forces a thick finger in, groaning at the way your walls try desperately to resist and force him out. You’re so tight, it’s not an easy feat you know, leaving you with a stinging pain as he stretches you open. Your back arches when he uses his other hand to touch your clit and you can’t help but let out a sharp moan as he slips a second finger inside your walls. . 

When you look up at him, Naoya almost seems entranced, eyes focused on what’s between your thighs only for you to break it when his fingers curl inside you. They touch a sweet spot, one that makes your hips dig into the mattress beneath you and let out a strangled moan, one that his gaze peering back up to you. 

He keeps toying with it till you feel that knowing sensation grow in your stomach while keeping his focus completely on you and you feel yourself clench around him, greedily asking for more. You think he feels it, picking up his pace and as he does making your toes curl. 

You’re so close to the edge, hands desperately clawing at the sheets before your orgasm finally washes over you. You’re breathless after, legs trembling, trying to close around Noaya’s hips but unable to. When it finally stops and you look up at him, he’s smirking down at you, the hunger still burning in his eyes at you. It’s clear that this is far from over and you’re only proven right when Naoya presses his body next to yours, not even giving you a second before he’s lining himself up with your entrance. And you, unrecognisable compared to the woman you were minutes ago, welcome him.

[afreakingdork]

I saw you were doing small requests if we proved we voted for Hassan/Mikey, so here's my proof! I was wondering if you could do something with Leo, since we don't see nearly enough Leo x readers out there. I was thinking maybe a best-friends to lovers thing where they keep trying to one up each other with playful flirtation, but it becomes real in the end, followed by a confession and a kiss? Xxx

Writing Request: Reader x Leo First Kiss 😘

Thank you kindly for doing your part! I hope you're enjoying all the content and please tell your friends! Let's push back in this comp!

From now until the poll closes, if you can prove to me that you voted Hassan/Mikey in this poll then I will do any short story writing request like the one below or draw you any doodle of your choosing!

ᴰᶦˢᶜˡᵃᶦᵐᵉʳ: ᴵ ᵃᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶦⁿ ᵃⁿʸʷᵃʸ ᵃˢˢᵒᶜᶦᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵒʳ ᵉⁿᵈᵒʳˢᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵉᵗᶦᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᵒʳ ᶦᵗˢ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉˢᵗᵃⁿᵗˢ.

We got some cutie all ages fluff down here, folks!

"And that's when you go in for the kiss!"

Leo had a fist to his lip's and nodded as if this conversation was of the utmost importance.

The random man in question who had approached you while you were hanging out with your best friend was none the wiser. You weren't sure where he had come from, but had interjected himself into your conversation without warning. He had some ripe opinions on romance that apparently couldn't wait for people he knew. Instead of running, Leo had been prompting him for the sake of it and sending you more and more exaggerated looks each time the man looked away.

"What about consent?" Leo asked.

The man reared for a moment before he thought which part. "At which part? We haven't gotten past first base."

"You gotta ask if you're going to kiss someone." Leo spoke with a firmness that you read as genuine.

"The mood!"

"Don't start." Leo shook his head.

"It ruins the mood." The man insisted.

"It does not." Leo waved him off for the first time.

"It does! You think your lady friend is going to still wanna smooch after you interrupt leaning in to ask permission!? That's not manly!"

"Manly, huh?" Leo's mask quirked with his brow. "Also, just lady friends?"

He glanced at you.

You chewed your lip and glanced away to not laugh.

"Ah, man friend, lady friend. Whatever friend! It doesn't matter!" The man huffed. "It's all the same in the eyes of love."

"Consent is hot, that's all I'm saying." Leo shrugged.

"Ah!" The man grunted and turned. "You don't get it! Oh! I bet they do!"

You both watched as the man jogged off at the next unsuspecting group of people.

"Well then!" Leo put his hands on his hips. "I never!"

He held the haughty pose until a giggle finally broke free from you and he slumped to your side.

"That was something." You told him.

"You know I really like conversations like that." Leo stuck a leg out to walk.

You followed his lead with solider-like attention. "Yeah? Seemed a bit like you were teasing him."

"Me!?" He gaped sarcastically at you before his features went lackadaisical. "Making something a gag is second nature. I really do I swear."

You thought for moment. "Okay... Why?"

"Why?" He digested the question and looked up at the buildings. "Let's see. People are interesting. They've got all these opinions and they're wild! Everyone is so different and they'll try to ask these questions about you, but they don't really want to know, but I do. Like I already know me; I want to know about them!"

It gave you pause and you thought back. In all the time you had known Leo, he had been like that. If you ever asked him something as simple as his favorite color, he would somehow turn the conversation around on you until you were matching shades in some sun room that you were going to retire in.

He made you feel like the center of the world and you loved him for it. He was bright and whip smart, but he also had an undeniable loneliness. He never let it get to him, but it made you want to get closer. You pushed to get his number after meeting him. You made sure to text him if a little too much time had gone by. You made future plans with him always included.

You became the best of friends before you even knew it.

Leo said yes to pretty much everything, even when his schedule was packed. it was his eagerness of companionship and just that he was generally a good friend, even if you found yourself mortified around him often. His wit and penchant for a bit meant that if you said the slightest thing wrong that he would hone in on it. It was further sharpened to a knife having had three brothers and because of it you had built a repertoire of inside jokes.

He was special and even just taking a walk with him on a day like today would be a highlight of your week.

"I see it." You eventually said.

"What'dyou think?"

"About what?" You glanced at him and the way the sunlight played on his barely shielded green skin.

"His pitch! That love guru's plan of attack. How to woo your lady, not lady friend."

A smile played on your lips. "Set the mood. Sure, that's good, but when's a mood, right? That's always a question."

"Exacty!" Leo threw a demonstrating hand to you. "Like is it being alone. We're alone right now?"

"Not really a mood?" You looked around.

"Should it be dark? They say those steak houses have romantic lightening when you can't even tell which fork your grabbing."

You laughed knowing what he'd say next.

"I'm telling you!" He pressed with the same knowledge. "They do it so they can give you lower cuts! That's why I always bust out the ole phone flashlight!"

"They do not!"

"I swear I ordered a rib eye but they served me flank. Flank!"

"The horror!"

"But yeah, okay so not the lights."

"Because I totally confirmed that."

"Okay, come here then."

You did so without hesitation.

"Okay, let me just..." He reached behind him to tug his hoodie off.

You watched on.

His chin caught. "Hold on." He squirmed to pull one arm through. "Hold!" It got trapped against the points of his plastron. "Wait, Wait!" His head disappeared down into the hole and you watched the blue fabric writhe.

There was no way he could see you, but when your hand came up to help he immediately scolded.

"Don't you dare! I've got this!"

You weren't sure if it was a bit or not, but that was Leo and he was nothing if not amusing.

"I got it!" In one hands to the ceiling move, his hoodie came off. "Check it!"

He flexed in his average looking t-shirt. "Very attractive."

"Thank you!" He told you with a point of his beak. "Alright, now cloud cover..."

He waved you over to a wall and you followed.

He looked you over a few times before he caged you in so he could hold the hoodie above both of you to block the light.

You stared at his red stripes in their proximity.

"Dark, how are we feeling?"

"Not really a mood."

"It's not a mood!" He cracked a grin. "We're already at the next factor."

"Oh?"

"Closeness. He said that thing about how both people realize they're a little too close and kissing is inevitable."

"Cause if that was true we would have kissed a bunch of times."

"Right?!" Leo clucked. "The Twister incident? That time I hit you with that little trashcan. Oh, oh! When you were demonstrating the banana thing and actually fell."

"That middle one..." You narrowed your eyes.

"An accident, I swear." He looked dire.

"I still think the banana was cause of the floor."

"Sure." Leo drew out the word.

You pinched the tail end of one of his stripes which also happened to be his cheeks.

He smiled all the more. "Alright then. Is that it? We've eliminated everything. Total bunk. That guy doesn't knowing a thing about romance."

"Yeah! Moods? Like what even is that?"

"Like cuddling on the couch?" Leo gagged.

"Running through the rain?" You added.

"Yeah, because I totally want to make out when I'm soggy!" His eyes rolled.

"Your clothes stick together!"

"You have to peel apart!" He shuddered and the hoodie shook as your umbrella.

You reached up on instinct to steady it right as one of the sleeves fell.

"Nice catch."

"Call me champ."

"No, I'm champ."

"You're champion."

"Your champion?" His mask waggled with his brow ridge.

"You can't count that! It was a bet."

"Oh yeah, what was last week when I got you that ice cream?"

"I was trying to be nice to you."

"Only trying?"

"You make it so easy."

"I do. I'm a great guy. Amazing friend. Easy on the eyes."

"The face of disaster. Person I would vote least likely to make a typo in front of because he will never let you live it down."

"I give you my life and my time!" He bemoaned.

"And I appreciate it."

He gave you his best puppy dog eyes. "Do you? You're just saying that. You totally said you were just saying that."

"No, you're the light of my life."

"In that voice? Maybe I'm the light from one of those nightlights that are automatic, like the kind that turn off as soon as you turn the real lights on."

You squared yourself and looked straight into his eyes.

He startled and gave you owlish attention.

"Leonardo Hamato. You are the most important thing to me. You appeared in my life and I made sure you were part of it and at some point you became someone I can't live without."

"Oh." The vowel popped out dull.

You were flooded with a wave of worry.

Had that been too much?

It was true.

You cared about Leo.

He made you laugh.

He made you smile.

He made you a priority.

You did the same with him.

It must have been all the romance talk.

He might have misconstrued the whole thing.

Certainly none of that meant anything more.

With the steam still trapped in your cheeks you met his eye.

He was staring the same intensity.

You shared it a little coy before you decided to face it head on.

You set your jaw and returned the full brunt of your certainty in the matter.

He blinked a single time. "Wanna make out?"

Your eyes went as wide as they could.

"Wait, that came out wrong!"

"Are you kidding me!?" You squawked.

"I said it was wrong! Let me-!"

"That's your idea of consent?!" You tugged the hoodie down.

Since he had his own hold on the fabric it pulled his arm.

Which pulled his shoulder.

Which pulled him closer.

You were inches away. "That guy was right! It does ruin a mood! 'Wanna make out?' Leo, what-?!"

He dropped a little lower and your heart spasmed.

He dipped down so he could look up at you through his lashes.

His gaze liquefied your insides on contact.

He held your gaze for a few calculated moments before he leaned up enough that the heat of his breath warmed your lips.

"I'm sorry. I meant, may I have the pleasure in kissing you?"

You closed the gap.

The hoodie dropped down around you for privacy.

You lost your vision and for a moment it was just you and him.

A tiny version of the world that you didn't mind.

Then, you parted.

Within the confines you heard the smack and felt the way your mouths were both open and ready for another.

"Like..." Leo licked his lips audibly. "Like that. You do it like that."

"If you tell me that was a bit I'm never talking to you again." You whined without an ounce of heat.

"I swear... Kiss on it?"

You tugged him right back to you and he smirked against you.

[moirindeclermont]

Bridgerton folks, you asked... There it is. Daddy!Colin in all his glory.

While I can't predict exactly where this fic is going to go (as I write on the spot) the premise in this case is that consent is assumed where not explicitly stated. Also, I'd like to be more psychological than physical, bit that's more for the characters to develop the story in the way it needs to be told. I'm merely a vessel.

Title is to be defined but I accept suggestions. Have fun!! 🥵 😈 🫠

---

Second Episode | Third Episode | Fourth Episode | Fifth Episode | Sixth Episode

---

"Why?"

Well, that was the crux of the problem.

Why did Pen asked her boyfriend and long time friend Colin Bridgerton to try "the daddy thing" as she presented it to him?

Knowing that honesty must be the requisite if this was going to turn into reality, she decided to go for total vulnerability.

"Because I need this. Because there is no one I love more than you and you're the only one with whom I can think of letting go like that."

That last bit got into Colin.

He want sure of the whole thing, but if it was something she needed, he would give it a try, for her.

"I'm willing to try. I have some research to do."

Pen smiled so bright for him that his knees almost dropped. Yeah, that was the right choice.

"Oh, I can do research for you," she offered him, but it wasn't the point of all of this for him to take care of her?

He got closer to her personal space. "Don't worry baby, I'll do my own research. If I think I need some help or some questions, I'll ask."

Pen melted in his arms - kissed him deeply and it was worth a try just for the way she hugged him after that talk, as if just talking about it made her feel better.

Thing is, the more Colin got into it, researching and reading, the more he wanted to try. He still wasnt so sure of "Daddy" was going to be cringe or hot, but the idea of Pen trusting him that much.. that was extremely erotic for him.

They talked a bit about it some more. They decided on a safe word "plant" and that he would call her "babygirl" when he wanted to start a scene.

Pen was being teased and she knew it. They talked and talked and talked with Colin. Everything was set up, they had a procedure for the aftercare (even if she doubt that she would go that deep on their first session) and now it was just a question of waiting. She was never good at waiting.

She didn't want to start this adventure with some brat behavior, but as the day passed it was clear that Colin was not waiting out of fear or insecurity.

He was waiting just to drive her mad.

Pen knew he would be good at it.

It was on the verge of begging him, when after a particular stressful night, she was close molaining with Colin about everything and it was madness how tired she was of even thinking, when she head him saying "come here, babygirl".

Holy fucking shit.

She turned to see him and he was on the sofa, his legs opened. A cushion on the floor.

Did she already said Holy fucking shit?

She moved towards him, knellingon the cushion without instructions. He seemed pleased at that.

"Such a good girl for me," as Colin tilted her chin to kiss her. She was already trembling.

"Unzip me and take me in your mouth."

She looked at him agape, as she could not believe what she was hearing. She took a moment too long to follow his instructions.

"Are you my good girl?"

At that she could only nod. "Then, do as I say."

She thought he was good. But Colin was shooting for the stars.

His entire demeanor was confident and sexy. He embodied security and she knew she was safe in his hands.

She had yet to move though. He looked at her with such intensity that her heart skipped a beat.

"Do not test me, babygirl"

And she shook her head. Pen didn't want to test him.

"Words, love."

"No, I don't want to test you"

"I don't want to test you..."

A lightbulb in her head.

"I don't want to test you, Daddy"

Tbc

[saythenametotheworld]

Foolish One | h.rj

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

ONE | two | three | four | five

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here. And, uh, thanks again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Giselle just shrugged, unimpressed.

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

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

“They really don’t,” Karina agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, that’s her,” you confirmed.

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

His words surprised you. “Really?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked again. “Sorry?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s when Donghyuck appeared.

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

You gave him a deadpan look. “Pass.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What even was last night’s chaos?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frowned. “That’s kinda sad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaemin snorted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You love me anyway.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kind of?” Karina repeated with a laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” Karina answered immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blinked, surprised. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you even like cold fries?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Think you could do better?” he challenged.

“I’m not much of an artist.”

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

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

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

“Vandalism?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so it goes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure. What is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, we’re good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hummed, urging him to continue.

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

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

“You think so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You rolled your eyes but grinned. “You have fun with your chores too.”

“I don’t know if I will, but I’ll make sure to try,” he replied, chuckling. “Text me if you need anything though, okay? Or if you're bored, I don't know. Just... Feel free to talk to me whenever you want."

“I will,” you promised, waving as you walked away.

As you made your way across campus, you fished your phone out of your pocket, remembering that Karina once told you about a confessions page on X. It was called NCIT Campus Confessions, and after skimming through the posts, you typed in a submission of your own:

To HRJ, Maybe I will finally learn my lesson. -xx

You felt lighter. Maybe not entirely free from the disappointment, but enough to know that you’d be okay. After all, it wouldn’t do to carry heartache with you to a place as vibrant and alive as Aruba.

[To be continued in Wonderland]

[bi-writes]

Bawling screeching at the new fic. Furious and angry about her loss of autonomy but then protective!Simon shows his face and all I do is burst into tears she's so me forreal :( HIS FIRST WORDS TO HER WERE TO ASK WHAT HURT. I'm going to throw UP. whoever said that when he slammed the light shut they became the bitch in her head was REAL YOU'RE SO RIGHT ANON. Suddenly I'm the bitch in her head and I just want him to fix everything for me it's ok guys he's got it he'll fix it. It honestly feels like he's being mean because

1)that's how she sees him, I don't think he's the type of person to beg for a change of heart so it makes sense he would lean into her idea of him. He started off neutral until he got an idea of what she expected him to be methinks.

2)I think she needed a good cry. I think he thought that too. That's why he praises her at the end

Am I reading too much into it? Maybe. But I'm also deeply unwell and I just :(( HES GOING TO FIX IT GUYS ITS OK HE'LL TAKE CARE OF US.

truly, the biggest fantasy here is that someone else is going to come along and fix it for us. I wish he was real. Praying for comfort and cathartic breakdowns if this ever gets an update. Because the second biggest fantasy is someone talking you through a meltdown. LMFAOJFJAHFJAJS Going to reread it again, and then I'm going to reread MoB Simon fic for the 50th time cuz I need to pretend someone will fight for me‼️thank you for the delicious food. I actually really needed this this was so good it was perfect. Seriously. Anywho! have a good day!!!!!

ooooo i love your analysis. love love love.

i think simon definitely leaned into how she viewed him. she wants to believe all alphas are monsters? fine, he'll lean right into it. in fact, he revels in that. whatever scares you the most is fine with him cause that means his mate is safe and sound <3

[libraryledge]

Safe Haven (A Regulus Black Story)

A/N: This is my first time writing for Regulus Black. Thanks to a kind request in my inbox, I took on the challenge! This story is about the reader encountering a mysterious and distressed Regulus in the library and how the pair connects over books.

The library has always been my safe haven. A place of quiet and tranquility to collect my thoughts, to study, and most importantly to read. Books have always been my favorite companions. They offer me a chance to explore, learn, challenge my opinions, and above all travel to new places and meet new people.

Most of my classmates at Hogwarts preferred to spend time at the Quidditch pitch or by the lake. While I loved these places as well, I felt most at home with my nose in a book. It's not as if I was an extremely reserved person. In fact, once you got me going, it was hard to get me to stop talking, especially if the topic was a good book. However, most students preferred not to think about reading outside of class time.

Therefore, one could imagine my surprise when a scrawny boy with curly hair and deep green eyes was seated at my usual spot at the library table. He was intensely scrutinizing a book as if attempting to decipher an ancient riddle that was written amongst its pages. curiosity got the better of me so I walked over towards him. He was so engrossed in the text that he did not hear me approach the table.

“ What are you reading?” I asked, making him jump.

He gave me an annoyed look, and I could tell he was trying to cover up the fact that I scared him.

“What's it to you?” he replied with a look of displeasure.

I frowned, but I didn't let his cold demeanor bother me. I startled him after all, and he probably wanted some peace and quiet as he read. However, I was still dying to know. Hardly anyone came up to the library to read for fun.

“Well, I myself am a huge bookworm, and just by looking at the way you're scrunching your nose as you turn each page, I can tell it's something incredible,” I replied.

The boy scowled down at the book, avoiding eye contact with me as he replied, “ I am not scrunching my nose!”

I chuckled at his serious demeanor and said, “ Boy! You are grumpy. It's okay. You don't have to tell me.”

I was used to people not wanting to engage in conversations with me over my chatty nature, but something about this boy was intriguing. I studied his stern face for a second until it hit me.

“Black!” I exclaimed as he finally looked up at me with a perplexed look.

“What?” he asked, narrowing his eyes and confusion.

“Regulus Black! You're in my potions class! Turn around for a second," I said eagerly.

“Why?” he asked, his signature sour look plastered upon his face.

“Please just do it,” I said.

With a huff, he gave in and turned around ever so slightly. I studied the back of his head, specifically the thick dark colored curls.

“I'd recognize that hair anywhere!” I proclaimed, much to his confusion.

“I sit behind you in class,” I explained.

He scoffed and replied, “I know that,” sounding almost insulted that I implied that he didn't remember me.

“I'm glad to know that you do. You always have your nose in a book so I wasn't sure,” I replied.

A shadow of a smile crossed his lips as he retorted, “You're one to talk.”

“Hey!” I protested, but was equally amused as he was right. I approached him to talk about his latest read after all.

“So… what are you reading right now?" I inquired, trying my luck again as I took a seat next to him. Much to my surprise, he didn't protest.

“A Standard Book of Spells,” he revealed, almost reluctantly.

“Seriously?” I asked, not fully grasping how that could cause him to consume the pages so eagerly.

“What? Not interesting enough for you?” he asked, giving me a side-eyed glance.

“No, that's not what I meant. It's just that your eyes practically danced across the page as you read. I assumed that it was a wild fantasy or a thrilling romance tale,” I responded.

“Do I really strike you as the romance novel type?” he asked, following his brows in an attempt to mask amusement.

“I don't know. This is the first time I've heard you utter more than a sentence that involves you telling Barty Crouch to shut up.”

Regulus snorted “He deserves it. Besides, I don't mess with fictional stories. Reality is complicated enough as it is.”

He said this with the hearty sigh that led me to wonder what hardships he faced in his life. I didn't know much about the scrawny fellow, other than the fact that he came from the Black family, which was one of the most prestigious pureblood wizarding houses.

I knew he had an older brother named Sirius, who if he didn't share a physical resemblance to Regulus, I'd never have guessed was related to him.

Sirius was constantly goofing off with his Gryffindor pals James, Remus, and Peter, while Regulus kept to himself. This tended to make people hesitant to approach the brooding figure. Despite not knowing much about him, I always figured that the pressure of being part of such a prestigious family must be difficult. I didn't blame Regulus for wanting to avoid confrontation.

Studying him, I asked, “ So why the spell book?”

He took a deep breath and then exhaled, “I'm trying out some new charms. An experiment.”

“Really? Isn't that dangerous?” I asked him. “My friend Pandora is always tinkering with spells, and I'm terrified that she'll get herself killed.”

Regulus contemplated this for a moment. “Well… we've got to learn somehow. How else would someone know the truth if they don't bend the rules a bit? A person's got to leave their mark on the world somehow or it’ll leave a mark on them.” He tugged on the sleeve of his robe anxiously as if it held a secret he was trying to conceal.

“Okay. That's pretty insightful,” I replied, impressed as Regulus squirmed in his seat over my compliment. “Anything in particular you're trying to learn?” I peered at his book.

“Well, I overheard Severus Snape working on some incantations the other night and wanted to try them for myself, but the information in the books is quite limited,” he said.

“Snape?” I asked in surprise. He was an odd fellow who was somewhat of an outcast. Lily Evans seemed to be the only one he spent time with on occasion. However, rumor had it that they'd had a row, and since then, Snape had been acting more dark and mysterious than usual. In fact, word around the castle was that he was involved in the dark arts.

Regulus nodded. “He's a strange bloke, but he's wickedly clever. I'd love to be able to learn his way with magic.”

I frowned and said, “You need to be careful with that. Snape's been known to mess around with the dark arts. That's a dangerous route to follow.”

Regulus looked paler than usual as I said that. After a moment of uncomfortable silence he said, “Toujour pur.”

I arched and eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Always pure” he replied. 

I shook my head. “No, no, no. I know what it means. I do know a bit of French. I mean what do you mean by that?”

It's the Black family motto. We are driven by so-called purity. Pure ambition. Pure education. Pure sacrifice. Pureblood,” he said with a sigh. “I've always felt the need to strive for success and prove to my family that I fit their ways, and I'm not just some pathetic loser. Maybe learning those incantations could be my way.”

“You don't need to perform risky incantations to prove yourself to others, and if anyone expects that from you, then maybe it's time to distance yourself from them,” I replied seriously.

He sighed once more, and we sat in silence for a moment until he said, “My brother, Sirius moved out over the summer. He spent the school holidays living with his friend James Potter because he couldn't stand being around our parents.”

I mulled over his confession and replied, ”I'm so sorry to hear that. I had no idea.”

“How could you? It's not like I go around chatting things up with every witch or wizard I meet,” he replied sarcastically. I had to smile as I pictured the usually sullen Regulus gossiping with our peers.

“Sometimes I resent my brother for leaving me alone with our perfectionist parents. Other times, I envy him because he managed to escape their harsh expectations,” he admitted reluctantly.

I nodded sympathetically. I figured that Sirius and Regulus weren’t as thick as thieves considering how one spent his days prancing around Hogwarts while the other preferred the confines of the library. I just never knew the reason for their strained relationship.

“It does make sense. You crave the freedom that Sirius has, but you also feel the need to live up to your family's name,” I replied understandingly. “I know you said that you've grown apart, but I bet you and your brother are not as different as you might believe.”

He raised an eyebrow at me and I could sense the scoff that he was about to emit.

“I’m serious,” I replied, and he gave me a smirk.

“I didn’t know you were my brother,” he said with an amused look.

“Ha, ha,” I said, rolling my eyes at his attempt at being comedic. “Glad to see you can have a sense of humor.

He shrugged, “There’s a lot people don’t know about me.”

I nodded empathetically. “What I meant was that you both clearly have a shared trauma. It’s just the way that you cope that is different. Sirius seems to find creative ways to distract himself from your parents' pressure, and you seem to gravitate towards meeting their expectations.”

Regulus met my eye with an incredulous and reluctant look. “So, you’re a shrink too?" Apparently, I’d hit the nail on the head with my observation.

“What can I say?” It’s the Hufflepuff in me. All my loyalty and kindness must be put to use somehow,” I joked.

He nodded pensively. After a beat of silence, he said, “Thank you”, as he studied the book in front of him. I knew he was only using it to hide behind because his eyes were no longer dancing across the page.

“You’re welcome,” I replied, matching his now gentle tone.

Regulus eventually looked up at me, “I know I may come off as a prick to most people, but I’ve had a lot of responsibility thrust upon me recently. There’s also so much darkness surrounding me. I want to leave it all behind, but I feel like I don’t have a choice,” he said with a sigh.

I sensed that he was alluding to a specific situation, but I didn’t push for him to elaborate.

“I may not know everything you’re going through since you’re a man of few words,” I teased as I elbowed Regulus playfully, which prompted a smile from him. “But, it’s evident that you’re not all darkness,” I replied.

He scoffed, “I appreciate you trying to inflate my ego, but trust me, I’ve really screwed up a lot in my life.”

“Who says I haven’t? I could be a real whack job under this kind exterior. You don’t know where my loyalties lie,” I joked.

Suddenly, the color drained from his already pale face, and for a second, I thought he was going to be sick.

“What if you trusted someone that you shouldn’t have, and now there’s no way out, and I’m…uh…I mean you’re stuck,” he asked with a twinge of desperation mixed with painful regret in his gaze. In our short conversation together, I’d come to realize how much he spoke with his eyes. They communicated what his words could not.

Curiosity was killing me over what circumstances could have left such a grave mark upon Regulus, but I continued to push aside that inkling feeling.

“There’s always a way out. It may not seem that way in the moment, but there’s always an antidote to break a curse, metaphorically speaking of course,” I replied.

Regulus looked at me, and for the first time during our conversation, he held eye contact with me for more than a few seconds.

He swore under his breath. “I wish we’d had this conversation sooner. You could have talked me out of doing something stupid,” he said and then paused. “You’re really smart,” he said, finally breaking eye contact.

I waved off his compliment. “I’m definitely no Ravenclaw. Besides, I’m sure anyone could have told you what I just did.”

"But most won’t,” Regulus said matter of factly. "I appreciate the insight. You probably get it from all those books you’re always reading in class or in the library.”

I raised my eyebrows, surprised by his comment.

“What? I may be stupid, but I’m not oblivious. I’m more observant than most people give me credit for,” he replied with a smirk.

l felt my cheeks grow warm over the implication that Regulus found my habits interesting enough to take notice of.

“Anyway, I’ve talked more about myself than I’ve liked to, so I believe it’s only fair that I flip the table and ask you: what are you reading?” he interrogated with a playful twinkle in his eye.

“Oh!” I said with a chuckle. “The Tales of Beedle the Bard.”

“Fairy tales?" Regulus asked with a grin.

“Hey now! I didn’t judge your reading material, so don't judge mine,” I shot back.

“Me being judgmental? Never!” he teased, and I had to laugh.

“But in all seriousness, I’m surprised that someone as well read as yourself hasn’t read that one yet. Isn’t it like the first book wizarding families read to their children?”

I grew quiet for a second, unsure of how to respond.

At last I said, “The key word there is wizarding families,” I said and paused before continuing. “I’m muggle born.”

Regulus’ eyes widened at my confession. “What? You’re so knowledgeable about magic and the wizarding world in general that I assumed…” he began, his voice trailing off.

“There’s an old muggle saying about assumptions. If you assume, you make an ass out of you and me,” I replied, watching as his eyes shifted from surprise to almost bashful as he registered my words.

“You got me there. I'm sorry. Old habits die hard,” he replied awkwardly. “My parents have been trying to instill their pureblood propaganda into my head.” He tugged at his left sleeve nervously. “I do hope you'll forgive me for my ignorance.”

I gave him a small smile to show him that I wasn't upset.

“Apology accepted. Trust me, being called smart by a sweet guy like you isn't the worst thing I could be called as a muggle-born,” I replied.

Regulus’ pale face flushed pink, but whether it was over my compliment or the insult I was alluding to wasn't clear.

“Gosh! You've enlightened me in more ways than one today,” he replied, still slightly flustered.

I shrugged. “It's a special skill I possess,” I replied with a wink. “Anyway, I think I've kept you long enough. I should probably head up to the dormitory.

“You're leaving already?” Regulus asked in surprise.

“Wow! For someone who didn't want me around earlier, you're a little eager for me to stay,” I teased.

Regulus smiled down at his book, and I had to admit that he looked much more handsome with that expression instead of the usual scowl he wore.

“I mean we spent the entire time talking about my problems. Don't I at least get to know more about you?”

Before I could respond, a clock was heard striking outside in the Great Hall. “Like I was saying, I have to go. Cinderella needs to get home before the magic runs out,” I said in jest.

He gave me an inquisitive look, clearly not understanding my reference.

“Oh, right. I forgot. You don't read fairy tales, much less muggle stories,” I told him as he rolled his eyes good naturedly.

”Smooth,” he replied sarcastically as he gave me a small smirk.

“I'd be happy to share some with you if you'd like. Perhaps, we can meet here again tomorrow evening. Unless, you have a hex that you're researching so you can use it on people who annoy you,” I teased as I eyed A Standard Book of Spells upon the table.

He gave me an uncharacteristically sheepish look, which made me think that my flippant comment wasn't far from the truth. “Luckily, you haven't made it into that category,” he said with a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Yet,” I replied with the same playful tone.

He snorted and asked, “So tomorrow then?”

“It's a date,” I replied, picking up my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard and giving him a final wave as I headed towards the library's exit. As I walked out, the last thing I saw was the small smile that crossed Regulus’ lips as he closed his spell book.

I didn't care what anyone thought. The library would always be my favorite place. People are often dismissive of those of us who love to read, but we tend to be the ones with the most interesting stories to tell. Surrounded by the shelves of fact and fiction, we find camaraderie and become open books. I couldn't wait to return tomorrow because no matter what secrets we possessed, the library was our safe haven.

A/N: I am super proud of this piece, so thank you again to the person who requested a Regulus Black story. Please feel free to request a topic you'd like me to write about next from my Masterlist (or another character or topic that interests you).

[meraki24601]

Some things to remember:

Story structure, editing, and writing are stupid, and their problems change with every WIP.

Story structure, editing, and writing are fun, and their challenges change with every WIP.

No matter how much plotting you do in advance, you won't know how your story goes until you finish the first draft, so it's not worth spending too much time worrying about.

Finding someone you trust to give constructive criticism is crucial to successful storytelling.

People will tell you you're supposed to plan a story in many different ways. No matter how many different methods you learn about, they will only be helpful once you try something out. If you're overwhelmed with a single chapter, you're probably trying to do too much at once.

One of my writer friends refuses to write until they know every detail they want to include. Once they have a concept, they fill out a chart with the Save the Cat story structure, starting at the beginning and working straight through to a logical ending. My method consists of coming up with a concept, staring into the void while asking myself why until I work my way back to the beginning of the story, and then looking at what I have and asking what the closest thing to a conclusion would be. Anything from that initial starting point to the end is generally discovered as I write.

I'm not a big fan of editing. That's why I don't really edit the things I post here. If you find editing intimidating, wait to get started after you've finished your first draft. Let your story sit untouched for a few days, weeks, or even months if you need to. Bask in that "I just wrote a whole story, and it's a mess, but I did it, and I'm proud" feeling. Then, when you're ready, read what you wrote. If it helps, make notes of what you want to fix. The good thing about editing is that, in theory, your story is already divided into chunks. Work one chapter at a time.

Once you've written that second draft, throw it at a friend. Let them read and react. Listen to their feedback and study the moments they said something didn't work. Sometimes, they'll only have a few detail things, and other times, they'll tell you your story is cluttered and help you figure out a way to completely reorder everything that happens.

Remember, there is no required length for a story. If you're struggling with a full-length novel, start with a short story instead. My NaNoWriMo book from last year wound up basically becoming a collection of short stories that all took place in the same town on the same day. Keep trying things and get help where you can.

(Also, I love listening to people's story concepts and helping them work out their problems, so let me know if you'd like some story-specific help!)

Does anyone have ways to make plotting long fics less intimidating?? I can look up story structure all I want, but that doesn't mean I know what I'm doing or even that everything is interesting. Idk it just feels overwhelming and that's why anything longer than a chapter tends to stagnate! Too much to get done

[bitegore]

if your ocs were bosses in a video game, what do you think their boss fight would be like?

[aromanticannibal]

ppl really b acting as if there's only one specific ship that has weird shippers that will complain about ppl not shipping their otp. it's literally always the case you either get fucked over for liking a gay ship or for liking a straight ship or for liking a toxic ship or people just start going "oh there's nothing wrong with the ship but the shippers💀" and you don't fucking know what they're talking about. like can we all just chill. the weird shippers r everywhere it's called some ppl are assholes sometimes. it's not fandom specific

[mostly-imagines]

Hi!! If you're up to it do you think you could write something about the first time Jason brings his gf to the manor. Like maybe he brings her in but doesn't tell anyone and so everyone is trying to sneak a glimpse of her??

meet the family

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason has a girlfriend???

warnings: none

The manor sits full as ever—a cloud of mild boredom sweeping over the Wayne clan.

Dick sits perched on top of an armchair reading a catalog, Stephanie’s splayed out across the couch, Cass is bundled up in blankets atop the ottoman, and Damian leans up against the center table from the floor.

It’s a relatively slow afternoon, until Tim comes bursting into the room, out of breath.

“There’s a girl here!”

Everybody looks at him, disinterest scattered across the room. “There’s a couple of ‘em.” Dick says, flipping through the pages of the magazine.

Tim huffs, “No! In Jason’s room—he has a girl in there!” Eyebrows shoot up at that.

“Now I know you’re lying.” Damian mutters.

Tims head snaps over to Damian. “Dude, go see for yourself. I heard her!”

“You really think Jason would bring a girl here and not even introduce us?” Steph asks, unconvinced.

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“Obviously.”

Cassandra nods fervently.

“Okay, yeah. Maybe.” Stephanie mutters. “I bet he’ll introduce me before any of you guys, though.”

Dick barks out a laugh, “You’re nothing short of delusional if you think he’s introducing any of us.”

“We’ll have to take matters into our own hands, then.” Tim says, decidedly.

Damian audibly sighs and rolls his eyes.

“I’m meeting her first.” Steph confirms. “I’ll put money down right now.”

“Meet her or see her?” Cass signs.

“Same thing.” Stephanie shrugs.

Dick shoots up from his seat, “First person to see her gets to be the ring bearer!” He announces, racing out of the room.

Knock knock knock knock knock…

Knock knock.

It takes a good forty seconds, but Jason opens the door, an annoyed frown already on his face.

Dick gives him his brightest smile. It beams of deceit in Jason's eyes. “Hey man. What’cha doing?”

He crosses his arms. “What do you want?”

Dick tries to peer around Jason into the room, but Jason made a point of barely opening the door and his large frame isn’t doing Dick any favors right now.

“Just wanted to say hey…You wanna hang out?”

“No.”

Dick lingers awkwardly. “…Are you sure?”

Jason shuts the door.

A couple minutes later, Tim comes running up the stairs. He opts to skip over the courtesy of knocking and go straight for barging through the door himself. Or he would’ve, if Jason hadn’t seen that coming from a mile away and locked it.

“Fuck off, Tim!” Jason calls from inside the room.

“You lost your right to privacy the second you walked in this house!” He shouts back, hitting his fist against the door.

And Tim swears he can hear a sweet laugh as he trudges away. The authenticity of that claim will be heavily debated downstairs for the next several minutes.

Not even a thirty seconds later, Stephanie comes a knockin’. Jason opens the door wordlessly, patience clearly dissipating more and more.

“Hey, Jason! I can’t find my comm, you wouldn’t happen to have it, would you?”

His face deadpans. “No, Steph.”

Stephanie clicks her tongue, “Can you check?”

He stares at her.

“Actually you’re right, it would be faster if I did.” Stephanie tries to push past him into the room, but Jason, unsurprisingly, doesn’t budge.

“Stephanie.”

“I just want to meet her!” She pleads. “I won’t even tell the others, I’ll just say you wouldn’t let me in either!”

“Bye.” He closes the door.

He doesn’t make it all the way back to the bed before the next knock, singular and short.

Jason snaps the door open again, looking down at Damian with a glare.

Never one to waste any time, “Is there a girl in here?” Damian asks, seeming thoroughly disinterested in the answer.

Jason shuts the door in his face.

Several minutes later, another, quieter knock. Jason’s groan can be heard from outside the room. He pulls open the door once again.

It’s Cass.

She stares at him.

He stares at her.

“Can I say hi to her?” She signs.

Jason sighs. “I’ll pass along the message.”

She smiles and turns back down the hall.

Jason closes and locks the door once again, trudging back over to the bed where you lay. He collapses onto your chest, your arms wrapping around each others bodies immediately.

“Cass says hi.” He mumbles, the sound obscured by his face-down position.

“That message would be a lot more meaningful if I actually knew Cass.”

He groans. “You don’t want to meet them.”

“I do.” You say, running your fingers through his hair. “And I think you do too, or you wouldn’t have brought me to the house where the world's best detectives live.”

“I’m starting to regret it now.”

“Come on. Please?” You plead.

He picks his head up to look at you.

“Are you sure?” He asks with a grimace.

“Absolutely.” You say, topping it off with a kiss on his cheek.

He sighs.

Well. It’s never been within Jason’s skill set to deny you, anyways.

You descend the stairs hand in hand with Jason, his energy mopier than usual. You can hear a gaggle of voices coming from a room ahead, all talking over one another.

“Okay, Tim, you climb up outside the window and—”

“—It’s your plan, you scale the side of the house.”

Jason drops his head and mutters a “Jesus Christ…” as you near the commotion.

You give him a reassuring smile and pat his back as you both move into the doorway.

Everyone’s heads snap to the doorway, eyes wide and waiting.

Jason takes a deep breath like he’s steeling himself for torture. “Guys…This is my girlfriend.”

“Hi.” You smile sweetly, waving to the room.

There’s a moment of still silence before the room erupts.

“Hold on—”

“—my god, she’s so pretty!”

“Oh wow—”

“Wait, what?”

”—You’re real?”

“—didn’t place that bet.”

Stephanie comes scurrying up to you and grabs both of your hands in hers. “Hi, I’m Steph!” She says with a beaming smile. “What’s your name?”

“I’m—”

But the others are right on her tail, crowding around you.

“We didn’t even know Jason had a girlfriend.” Tim says.

“Still not convinced.” Damian mumbles from the back.

Cass waves and signs something to you.

“She says we’re really happy to meet you, which we are.” Dick tells you.

Damian moves closer within the huddle and inspects you closely. You have no idea what he’s inspecting you for. You don’t need to dwell on it for long because Jason pushes his head away from you with mild force making Damian scowl.

Stephanie chimes in, “Did he bring you here to meet us? The others said—”

Jason cuts her off, already knowing exactly where that sentence was going. “I brought her here to show her my old room.”

Dick snickers, “Oh, is that what you were off doing?”

“Watch it.” Your boyfriend warns.

You nudge him with your elbow, be nice.

Tim moves closer to you, narrowing his eyes. “So you’ve like, spent time with him and everything? And you still want to be around him?”

“Okay and you’re done.” Jason takes your hand and leads you out of the room and back down the hallway.

“No wait!”

You’re already out of the room and into another and then another before you can even realize that you’re headed for the front door.

You stop in your tracks, pulling him to a halt as well. “What about—”

Jason shakes his head. “You don’t want to meet him.”

You lower your chin at him, “Jay. Do you want me to meet him?”

He’s silent and doesn’t look like he particularly does.

You sigh, “Okay, do you want him to meet me?”

“I—yeah…” he trails, and you give him your best sweet eyes, the ones that he knows he has no business saying no to. “I…okay. Okay.”

He leads you down another hallway, the sounds of his siblings clambering echoing in the distance. You end up in a room that looks like a never used study, where Jason pushes on one of the walls. It slides open with a bit of force from him, revealing a door with a keypad next to it.

He types a series of numbers into it, and opens it up to a narrow passageway that looks remarkably like a cave.

The passageway leads down to a set of stairs, and you can hear the loud sound of water in the distance.

You’re quite nervous about walking into the Batcave, but you know Jason wouldn’t bring you anywhere near it unless he was sure it would be okay. Okay for you that is, more so than his father.

“Careful. It’s slippery.” Jason holds your hand the whole way down anyway, making sure to linger no more than a step and a half in front of you.

You see Bruce Wayne, sitting at a desk with a large array of computer screens in front of it, and case files scattered all throughout the surface.

He doesn’t acknowledge your entrance, though you have to imagine if Jason got his observation skills from anywhere, it would be him.

As you approach, Jason switches your hands so that his left is holding your left. The result has his figure half covering you, you can only assume partially limiting Bruce’s view of you.

“Bruce.”

Bruce turns his chair around, regarding Jason with a raised chin. The greeting is somehow even more formal than you’d expected.

“Jason.” He readdresses his gaze to you. “Who’s this?”

Jason has a hell of a feeling that Bruce already knows exactly who you are. He’s probably known about you since you started dating. He would’ve had to, to not be pissed as hell that Jason brought a civilian into the cave.

Jason introduces you, his hand reluctantly letting go as you step forward to shake Bruce’s.

Bruce looks surprised, though pleasantly so. He smiles and shakes it kindly.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” He says.

“You too, I’ve heard a lot about you.” You say, smiling.

He laughs, “Oh, I bet.” Looking to Jason, he says, “I can’t say I’ve had the same pleasure, unfortunately.”

Though Jason’s behind you now, you can practically feel him roll his eyes.

“No, I can’t imagine him sharing anything unprovoked.” Bruce smiles widely at that.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but Jason, who’s probably on the brink of losing his mind down here, interrupts.

“Alright. Time to go.” Jason says, grabbing your hand again. He doesn’t give you much time to protest before he’s guiding you by the waist past him and towards the stairs.

You let him nudge you out and call over your shoulder, “It was nice meeting you!”

He’s halfway up the stairs as you exit, only to be stopped by Bruce addressing him again.

“Jason.”

Jason stalls his steps, turning around slowly. You’re out of the cave now, and Jason’s not excited to be alone with his Dad for even a minute. It doesn’t help that he has no idea what he’ll say.

“She’s kind.” Bruce says, simply.

“Yes.”

He tilts his head at Jason, observing him. “You love her?”

Jason looks at the ground. “Yes.”

Bruce nods. “Good.”

He returns to his work at the computers wordlessly, and Jason has to take a moment to realign himself before he climbs the rest of the stairs.

Jason doesn’t particularly seek his fathers approval, nor does he place any definable value on it. However, hearing him give his own version of his blessing to you struck something inside Jason. Something deep in his chest.

He re-enters the study, finding it empty. He walks out into the hallway, where you’re nowhere to be found. Despite being halfway across the house by this point, he can distinctly hear his siblings chattering in the living room. Chattering. And chattering. And chattering…

Oh god, you went back to the living room.

As Jason approaches the conversation becomes clearer.

“—long have you been together, anyways?”

“Well—”

Stephanie gasps suddenly, cutting you off. “Oh wait, you have to meet Alfred!”

“Oh, we’ve already met.” You tell her.

Dick’s head snaps up. “What? When?”

Jason enters the room, draping his arm around your shoulder. “About six months before you met her.”

A chorus of gasps and shouts ring out.

“What?”

[chaoticvictorianspirit]

^ not letting this hide in the replies @pyrose-the-flame

@ people who carry bags everywhere what do you put in them what is there to bring other than chapstick, keys, phone and maybe a tampon why are you packing a suitcase to be outside for 5 hours