#it’s not that serious lol I’m just being dramatic…as usual

[bakery-anon]

Guys I’m so sad. I didn’t even get half way through my coffee before I had to leave my house for the bus </3 it’s times like these that I wish I could drive </3333

[hyuckiefluff]

nasty habits | park jisung

pairing: pervy!jisung x camgirl! reader

genre: smut, a little bit of fluff at the end

summary: what happens when you find out that your top spender as a cam girl isn’t some rich old guy, but an awkward boy from your campus?

wc: 20k+

warnings: cam girl activities, usage of sex toys, cursing, loss of virginity, sub!jisung, masturbation (like a lot of it), oral sex (fem.receiving), jisung is his usual introverted self (and only loud during sex), a lot of sexualization and just overall horniness lol. lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: heeey loves! i was absolutely floored with the amount of love that my latest fic got, so here i am with another one for you. this is my first jisung fic so im excited but also nervous bc jisung is one of my biases. idk why it took me so long to write him. but anyways i hope you all enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it. ps; y/n is terrible at recognizing people or remembering names and i’m only putting that here bc it comes out a few times in the fic lol (she’s just like me fr), ALSO, this is loosely inspired by BJ Alex. oh and one last thing, the idea for this fic or at least the characters’ dynamic was inspired by this tweet.

your college days have been, for the most part, unremarkable in the best way. you pulled decent grades, had a solid group of friends, and were generally well-liked.

but despite being somewhat popular, you managed to keep a lot about yourself private.

and by that, you mean the secret life that only a handful of your closest friends knew about.

after all, being a cam girl wasn’t exactly your average college hobby.

it started on a whim, born from equal parts boredom and curiosity. at first, you had no idea what you were doing. your streams were awkward, your lighting was bad, and your concept was nonexistent. but after a few months, you found your niche and suddenly, you were kind of a big deal on the platform.

granted, the website you streamed on was pretty obscure, the kind of place you could name in public, and nobody would so much as glance your way. still, you made decent money. enough to pay for your first two years of college, entirely out of pocket.

you never flaunted it, and most of your friends didn’t care to pry. they only ever joked about it, like they were doing now after you casually mentioned how much you’d earned last month.

“girl, what the hell. maybe i should start camming too,” giselle said, eyes wide as she stared at the number on your screen.

“you say that like it’s a joke, but i’m dead serious,” karina chimed in, striking a dramatic pose in front of the mirror. “i checked my bank account yesterday and almost cried.”

“i mean, i’m not saying you should, but if you need pointers…” you teased, shooting them a wink

“for real though, you’ve gotten so much confidence from this,” giselle pointed out, leaning back against the bed frame.

“oh yeah, nothing boosts your self-esteem like a 60 year old man telling you your ‘princess bits’ are so pretty he busted one in his pants,” you deadpanned, propping your chin on your hand.

“okay, they can’t all be old men,” karina snorted “like can you see their profiles or anything?” she asked, abandoning the mirror and flopping onto the bed beside you.

“not really. just their usernames and how much they’ve spent on my channel.”

“wait, check your top supporter!” giselle said, bouncing a little in excitement.

you scrolled through the dashboard until his username popped up. the moment your friends saw how much he’d spent on you this year, they both let out a loud gasp.

“what in the sugar daddy is this?” karina said, laughing in disbelief. “eighteen thousand dollars? that’s literally my entire tuition!”

“i don’t get the full amount, though. the site takes a cut, then there’s taxes and all that,” you clarified, shrugging.

“still! that’s insane,” giselle said, shaking her head. “honestly, i don’t feel bad about you paying for our sushi nights anymore.”

you laughed, leaning back into your pillows.

“but aren’t you even a little curious about who this…” karina squinted at the screen, “andyp4rk02 is? i need to know everything about this man.”

“i mean, of course i’m curious. but there’s no way to find out,” you said, twirling a strand of hair absentmindedly.

“unless…” giselle said, dragging the word out with a sly grin.

you raised a brow. “unless what?”

“haechan.”

you frowned. “what about him?”

“he could probably hack into this thing,” she said with a casual wave of her hand, as if that wasn’t a completely ridiculous suggestion.

“giselle, he’s a computer science major, not a dark web hacker,” karina said, rolling her eyes.

“okay, but remember when i got locked out of my netflix? he did some tech magic on his computer and got my account back.”

“yeah, because recovering a netflix account is exactly the same as hacking into a cam site,” you said dryly.

“i’m just saying, have you seen his setup? it’s literally something out of a spy movie,” giselle insisted.

karina shrugged. “it wouldn’t hurt to ask him…”

you hesitated, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “i don’t know, guys…”

“oh, come on,” karina said, nudging your shoulder. “don’t you want to know who this guy is?”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

they somehow managed to convince you, which was how you found yourself shivering outside haechan’s dorm, rubbing your arms to keep warm. the air was biting, and as always, haechan wasn’t picking up his phone.

“when he opens this door, i’m kicking him straight in the balls,” you muttered, bouncing on your toes to stave off the cold. giselle was furiously rubbing her hands up and down your arms and karina’s, trying to share what little warmth she had.

“we should’ve called earlier,” karina said through chattering teeth, her lower lip trembling. “he might not even be in.”

giselle huffed dramatically. “okay, this is ridiculous.” she stepped back and cupped her hands around her mouth. “lee haechan, come out right now!” her voice echoed down the street, startling a group of students walking by.

“haechan! get your ass down here!” you joined in, your voice cracking slightly in the cold.

karina gave a small, pitiful laugh. “he lives on the second floor… there’s no way he heard that.”

before she could finish, the door creaked open, revealing one of his roommates. you recognized him immediately but, as usual, couldn’t recall his name. he was younger than you by a year and usually kept to himself whenever you visited.

“uh… hey?” he said, blinking at the sight of the three of you standing there like frostbitten strays. he leaned awkwardly against the doorframe, clearly wondering why three girls were yelling outside their dorm at 9 p.m. on a tuesday.

giselle, ever the charmer, broke into a dazzling smile. “hi! thank you! we’re here for haechan.”

“okay,” he said quietly, still eyeing you all with suspicion. “he’s probably in his room playing league or something.” he stepped aside slowly, letting you in.

“thank you,” you muttered as you walked past, catching the way his gaze immediately dropped to the floor when you made eye contact.

once inside, you didn’t waste any time. storming up to haechan’s door, you knocked violently before pushing it open without waiting for an answer.

“what the hell—” haechan swiveled in his gaming chair, his startled expression melting into a sly grin as soon as he saw you. “hii, girls. to what do i owe the pleasure?” his tone shifted into his mock customer service voice as he leaned back, giving you his most charming smile.

giselle jabbed a finger into his shoulder, making him wince. “were you jerking off, or is your phone shoved up your ass? why didn’t you answer our calls?”

“sorry, i was mid-round, and my phone was on silent,” he said, rubbing his shoulder and smiling sheepishly.

karina folded her arms and sat on the edge of his bed, only to spring back up with a grimace. “ugh, have you even left your room this week?” she asked, glaring at the mountain of empty takeout containers and water bottles scattered across the floor.

“it’s winter break,” haechan said, turning back to his computer and clicking out of the game. “of course i haven’t.”

giselle gestured dramatically at the mess. “you’re one step away from being in a hoarders episode, dude.”

haechan ignored her, spinning in his chair to face you again. “so, what brings such beautiful company to my humble abode?” his eyes lingered on you pointedly.

“he only looked at y/n while saying that. wow.” giselle placed a hand on her chest in mock offense.

“she’s not gonna suck your dick, haechan,” karina said flatly, shaking her head.

“i didn’t even say anything!” he protested, deflating slightly in his chair, his pout almost comical.

“anyway,” you interrupted, rolling your eyes. “i need a favor.”

haechan perked up immediately. “anything for you,” he said with a wink, which earned an exaggerated gagging noise from karina.

you crossed your arms, leaning against the desk. “okay, first: how’s your hacking game these days?”

“eh… like a seven. why?”

“do you think you could, uh, hack into angel corner?”

his eyebrows shot up. “oh, oh.” he swiveled back to his computer, clearly intrigued. “i mean, i’m not super familiar with their system—it depends on their encryption layers and backend coding. but…” he trailed off, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against the desk. “it shouldn’t be too hard. why do you want me to hack them, though?”

you fiddled with the hem of your sweater, trying to look as innocent as possible. “just… curious about one of my subscribers.”

giselle chimed in unhelpfully. “her top subscriber.”

haechan spun his chair back around, narrowing his eyes. “and what exactly do you want to know?”

you hesitated, glancing at karina and giselle. the truth was, you hadn’t really thought this through.

“everything,” karina said firmly, her eyes glinting with a kind of mischievous excitement.

haechan smirked, leaning back in his chair. “okay, but what’s in it for me?”

giselle thought for a second and then grinned, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “y/n will sit on your lap while you do your nerdy shit.”

haechan shot out of his chair, clapping his hands. “deal!”

“huh?! i did not agree to this.” you immediately protested.

“c’mooon,” giselle said with a pout. “don’t you want to know?”

haechan patted his lap smugly. “don’t worry, baby. i don’t bite.”

groaning, you finally gave in, muttering curses under your breath as you sat on his lap. he sighed contentedly, spinning back toward his computer. with a few quick clicks, he opened a screen that looked straight out of a movie just as giselle said before. lines of code and strange tabs you didn’t recognize.

“how do you even know how to do this?” you asked, leaning slightly to the side to avoid touching his chest.

“self-taught,” he replied with a shrug.

“great,” you muttered. “i’m trusting a bootleg hacker to invade my subscriber’s privacy. that’s just fantastic.”

“hey, relax,” haechan said, grinning. “you’re in good hands.”

“can we get this over with so i can get off you?” you groaned, shifting uncomfortably on haechan’s lap.

“why? i’m cozy,” he said with a cheeky grin, snuggling into your back. you retaliated with a flick to his forehead.

“ow!” he yelped, immediately rubbing the spot. “i’m so nice to you and all you do is hurt me.”

“you’ll cope. now, what’s this?” you asked, pointing at the maze of numbers and codes flickering across the screen.

“this,” he said, his brows knitting in concentration, “is me trying to break through their firewall… which is a lot more complicated than i thought.”

“well, obviously,” karina chimed in from behind you, inspecting her nails, only half invested in the conversation. “that site probably has CEOs and politicians on it. maybe one of them is your top subscriber, because who else has eighteen thousand dollars to blow on a cam girl?”

“what?!” haechan yelled, whipping around so fast you nearly fell off his lap. “eighteen thousand?!”

“that was my ear,” you muttered, steadying yourself.

he cleared his throat dramatically, but his ears flushed pink. “right, sorry. anyway—oh, wait, i’m in!”

“wait, really?!” you leaned forward in excitement, your hands clutching the edge of his desk. “oh my god, that’s so cool, i could kiss you right now!”

“please do,” haechan replied, staring at you with wide, hopeful eyes.

“be a man,” karina said, smacking him on the back of his head as she moved closer.

“okay, so… bad news or good news first?” haechan asked, his smug grin returning as he reclined slightly in his chair.

“just rip the band-aid off,” you said, crossing your arms. “what’s the bad news?”

“your top spender is smart. like, annoyingly smart. the only personal info he filled out was his gender, and for his name he used a zelda character.”

“what a virgin,” he added with a laugh.

“look who’s talking,” giselle shot back.

“hey, i’m not the one spending thousands on a cam girl who wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole,” haechan retorted, his tone defensive. “and for the record, i do get some action, thank you very much.”

“sure you do,” karina muttered, rolling her eyes. “anyway, what’s the good news?”

haechan grinned like a cat who’d caught a particularly juicy mouse. “i can get his IP address.”

“wait, for real? what are you waiting for?” giselle leaned in, her eyes darting to the screen.

“hold on.” you hesitated, guilt prickling at the edges of your excitement. “isn’t this… a bit much? like, it feels illegal.”

giselle waved a hand dismissively. “please. we’ve come this far… we can’t leave with just this. we already knew he was a guy. only a man would be that desperate.”

“and besides,” karina added, “you’ve been sitting on this nerd’s lap for twenty minutes. make it worth something.”

“touché,” giselle said, nodding. “by the way, you can get up now.”

“yeah, but…” you paused, shifting slightly. “he was right—his lap is cozy.”

“told ya,” haechan said smugly, shooting you a wink. “so, should i pull up his IP or what?”

you sighed covering your face with your hands, hoping it would make the shame and ethical gray area feel a little less overwhelming “ugh. fine. just do it.”

haechan’s fingers flew across the keyboard, a blur of taps and clicks as lines of code scrolled rapidly across the screen. within three minutes, he sat back triumphantly.

“got it,” he said. but then his smile faltered, his brows knitting together in confusion. “wait… that can’t be right.”

“what?” you dropped your hands and leaned forward. “what’s wrong?”

karina’s eyes widened as she stared at the screen. “isn’t that…?”

giselle’s voice was barely above a whisper. “isn’t that this dorm?”

you all stared at the address blinking on the screen. it was the exact building you were sitting in.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“you’ve all been staring at me for the past three minutes, and i’m feeling very threatened right now,” haechan said, his voice trembling.

the three of you stood in front of him, arms crossed and glares locked onto his soul.

“well, we just think it’s way too much of a freaky coincidence that her top spender just so happens to live here,” giselle said, her tone accusatory. “care to explain?”

“wait, wait, wait,” haechan stammered, his hands flying up in surrender. “you’re not seriously implying i’m the top spender, right? cause that’s just—” he laughed nervously, “—ridiculous!”

“oh, is it?” karina quipped, raising a perfectly arched brow. “you’re always flirting with y/n and acting like a simp. what’s a few thousand dollars for your ‘queen’?”

“oh, come on!” haechan groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “i’m naturally a flirty guy. that’s my thing! and where do you guys think i’d even get that kind of money?”

he gestured around the room to back up his claim. the pile of ramen cups and the stack of free campus hoodies spoke louder than he ever could.

“besides,” he added, dropping his arms, “i’m not even subscribed to her channel. i admit i checked it out a few times after y/n told me about it, but i promise i’m not a weirdo or anything. you’re my best friend, y/n.”

his voice softened at the end, and you felt yourself relaxing slightly. haechan might be a flirt, a tease, and a relentless pain in the ass, but he wasn’t the kind of person to keep something like this hidden from you.

“he’s telling the truth, you guys,” you said finally, breaking the tension.

karina tilted her head, sizing him up. “yeah, i didn’t think a bum like him would drop that much money on you anyway.” she scoffed, crossing her arms tighter. “he asked me for five dollars the other day… by the way, give me back my money.”

“dude, it was five bucks! let it go,”

“let it go?” karina shot back. “i could’ve gotten a latte with that!”

“okay, okay,” giselle cut in, waving her hands to calm them down. “if it’s not haechan, who else could it be? is there anyone in this dorm who’s… obsessed with you?”

you blinked, thinking hard. “not that i know of. i mean, i don’t really talk to anyone here except for haechan.”

“how many guys live here?” giselle asked, turning to haechan.

“including me? 5,” he said, counting on his fingers. “but i’m pretty sure jeno has a girlfriend... so that leaves mark, jaemin, and jisung.”

“since when has having a girlfriend ever stopped a man from doing something shady?” karina deadpanned, crossing her arms.

“true,” haechan admitted with a shrug, “but let’s be real, girls… all of them are full-time students barely scraping by with part-time jobs. i doubt any of them have that kind of cash to drop freely.”

“you never know,” giselle chimed in. “isn’t mark’s brother the dealer on campus? maybe he borrowed some money.”

karina snorted. “you’re forgetting mark is practically a saint. the guy’s too religious and too much of a goody two-shoes to even think about something like that.”

“okay, what about jaemin?” giselle countered. “he’s always wearing designer stuff. what if he’s secretly loaded?”

karina gave her an incredulous look. “have you seen jaemin? he’s got a different girl drooling over his shoulder every other day. i don’t think he needs to subscribe to a cam girl to satisfy himself and i’m sure all those were gifts from desperate girls”

“then that leaves jisung,” you said slowly, the name clicking into place. “wait… isn’t he the one who let us in earlier? the freshman?”

karina nodded. “oh right, the tall awkward kid. that would explain why he couldn’t even look at you.”

“wait, jisung?” haechan burst out laughing. “no way. the kid’s barely in his twenties! you’re telling me he somehow scraped together eighteen thousand dollars to spend on y/n?”

“well, he does live in this building so that makes him a suspect…” giselle reasoned, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

“ugh, this is getting too weird,” you muttered, pacing the small room. “are we really saying jisung might be the guy?”

“i mean, you never know,” karina said with a smirk. “quiet ones are always full of surprises.”

haechan groaned, flopping back into his chair. “this is turning into a bad episode of CSI”

“if he’s the top spender, that means he has a thing for y/n,” giselle said, grinning. “we should just ask him directly.”

“absolutely not,” you said quickly, your face heating up.

“why not?” karina teased. “we’re already halfway to solving this mystery. might as well get the confession.”

“no, i think this has already gotten out of control… you guys are too caught up on finding who it is but personally i don’t care that much, i’m fine with not knowing”

“really, even after finding out he’s living in this very dorm?” karina asked walking up to you.

“yeah. i don’t care.” you were lying and they could probably tell by your face but, surprisingly, they didn’t press you.

“okay, fine. let’s go home.”

“i think we should have a sleepover. what do you think, girls?” haechan said and you responded by throwing a pillow at him as you exited the room.

“damn, not even a thank you.” he said, rubbing his head.

you sprinted back into the room and gave him a quick peck on his cheek. “thank you!” you said sweetly.

“and clean your room, it stinks!” you yelled from the hallway.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

winter break had ended, and after coming back from visiting your family, you’d mostly forgotten about the fact that your top spender lived in one of your best friend’s dorms.

but your dismissive attitude disappeared as soon as the new term started.

suddenly, you were hyper-aware of every one of haechan’s roommates. even the ones you’d previously ruled out. like, why was jeno suddenly smiling at you from across the dining hall? and was that… a smirk you saw on mark’s face as you walked by? certainly not—you had to be imagining things. you were just being extremely paranoid.

“hey, gorg!!!” giselle greeted you with extra enthusiasm, practically bouncing into the room.

“you’re happy today,” karina observed, raising an eyebrow.

“i am! i really think i cracked this case, y’all.”

you sighed, already bracing yourself. “enlighten us,” you said flatly.

karina rolled her eyes. “you do know no one cares anymore, right?”

giselle ignored her and continued. “by the way, how were you guys’ breaks?” she asked casually before immediately cutting herself off. “never mind, we’ll get to that later. listen, i was in line for food earlier, and guess who i saw?”

when neither of you spoke, she dramatically continued, “jaemin.”

“fork found in kitchen. of course he’d be at the cafeteria during lunch,” you said, unimpressed.

“no, but listen! i said hi to him, and he flinched so hard he nearly dropped his phone. then he tried to hide it.”

“maybe somebody sent him nudes or something,” karina said, shrugging.

giselle shook her head, leaning in conspiratorially. “no, but catch this… he asked if i was here alone, and when i pointed at you”—she turned to you with a wide grin—“he blushed furiously.”

you tsked, slumping back in your chair. “that still proves nothing.”

“okay, but isn’t it suspicious?” giselle pressed. “why would he blush that hard just because i mentioned you?”

“because he’s a human being with a working circulatory system?” you shot back.

karina snorted. “for real. giselle, you’re acting like you just uncovered a government conspiracy.”

“you guys are just blind,” giselle huffed, crossing her arms. “mark my words… it’s him. jaemin’s the one.”

“even if it was him, what am i supposed to do with that information? march up to him and say, ‘hey, thanks for the eighteen grand’?”

“you should,” karina said with a smirk. “at least get him to buy you lunch.”

giselle sighed dramatically, feeling like she was surrounded by fools. “fine. don’t believe me. but when this all comes out, just remember i called it first.”

“boo!”

haechan’s voice was directly in your ear, and you jumped so hard you nearly spilled your coffee all over yourself.

“what the hell! i almost ruined my new skirt,” you snapped, quickly checking to make sure no drops had actually landed on the fabric.

“did you buy that with jaemin’s allowance?” he teased, a grin stretching across his face.

you responded by flipping him off, which only made him laugh as he slid into the seat next to you.

“you heard everything?” karina asked, giving him an unimpressed look.

“hard not to,” he replied casually. “in case you didn’t know, gi, your discreet voice is about as discreet as a foghorn.”

giselle rolled her eyes. “thanks for the input, hacker boy.”

“i’ve already said to drop the topic,” you cut in, frustrated. “what if one of them hears? and! you guys are being so obvious about it… don’t think i haven’t noticed the pointed stares you keep giving to every guy from the dorm. i’m sure they’ve noticed, too.”

“we’re just trying to help,” giselle said, stabbing at her salad with unnecessary force.

“and i do appreciate it,” you replied, though your tight smile probably said otherwise, “but i’d appreciate it even more if we all just moved on.”

your tone made it clear that the discussion was over, and the table fell into an awkward silence.

you felt a little bad about shutting them down so abruptly, but the truth was, you didn’t want them to figure out who your top spender was. not because you cared about protecting his identity, exactly… but because you feared that, in the process, they’d also find out the full truth:

you’d already interacted with him before.

not just casually, either. your top spender had paid for private sessions. more than once.

you still didn’t know what he looked like since he’d never turned on his camera but you could probably recognize his voice. a voice that, no matter how much you tried to ignore it, had been replaying in your head ever since that night you found out he was likely a student in this university. a deep voice that had a habit of making your heart race despite your best efforts to stay professional.

“i know you said to drop it, but is it just me or does hae’s nerdy friend keep looking this way every few seconds?” karina asked, nodding subtly toward a table a few feet away.

you turned your head, catching a glimpse of jisung sitting by himself, fiddling with his phone. “maybe he wants to sit with us,” you shrugged. “call him over, hae.”

“yo, jisung!” haechan called, raising a hand to wave the taller boy over.

jisung froze in place, his eyes widening briefly before he hastily shoved on his headphones and scurried away like a startled deer.

you frowned, puzzled. “what was that about?”

“that was so weird,” giselle snorted, biting back a laugh.

“ah, he’s just awkward like that,” haechan said with a casual wave of his hand. “probably saw me sitting with gorgeous girls” he locked eyes with you as he said this “and got scared.”

“anyways,” you rolled your eyes, but the slight twitch at the corner of your lips betrayed your amusement. “i have to go.”

“part-time obligations?” karina asked, raising an eyebrow knowingly.

“possibly,” you shrugged nonchalantly as you got up.

“can i come?” haechan asked.

you rolled your eyes at haechan’s hopeful grin as he stood up. “you wish,” you said, pushing him back into his seat before grabbing your bag and heading out.

your destination wasn’t your dorm or the library. instead, you made your way to the small studio you rented off-campus, tucked far enough away to avoid suspicion.

the studio was modest, just big enough to fit a bed, a desk, a small bathroom, and your filming setup. the air smelled faintly of vanilla, thanks to the diffuser you kept running to set the mood. locking the door behind you, you exhaled deeply and began preparing for the night.

the routine was familiar, almost comforting. you hopped into the shower, letting the warm water relax your muscles as you mentally ran through the checklist. after drying off, you slipped into your costume for the night—a delicate white lace dress with baby blue accents that hugged your body in all the right places.

at the vanity, you carefully applied your makeup, adding just enough to transform yourself into collette, your cam girl persona and paired with a small mask that covered your eyes and half of your nose. the wig was the final touch, a wavy style that framed your face perfectly, making you almost unrecognizable from your day-to-day self.

“let’s see,” you adjusted the camera angle to capture the bed and the soft glow of the fairy lights behind it.

you glanced at the table beside the bed, where the new toys you’d promised to showcase were neatly arranged. taking one last look in the mirror, you marveled at how different you looked.

“all right,” you muttered to yourself, glancing at your reflection one last time. “let’s get this show started.”

you hit start on your stream, and the chat immediately flooded with messages, emojis, and tips.

“hi, guys!” you greeted, your voice shifting into a higher, sweeter tone. “missed you all so much during the break.”

the messages came in rapid-fire:

“omg collette’s back!”

“you look stunning as always.”

“been waiting for this for weeks!”

you giggled, leaning closer to the camera so that your cleavage filled the frame. “you’re all too sweet. did you miss me that much?”

the chat practically exploded with affirmations, and the pings of tips coming in made you smile wider.

“i see you guys like the new outfit,” you teased, slowly standing to give them a full view of your legs, moisturized and shimmering under the warm light. “but i didn’t just dress up for no reason. i have a surprise for you tonight.”

you reached for the toys on the desk, holding one up for the camera. “look what i got during the break,” you said, biting your lip playfully. “i thought you’d want to help me break them in.”

the tips surged as viewers expressed their excitement, but one notification caught your eye. andyp4rk02 has tipped $100.

you grinned, recognizing the username instantly. “hi, andy,” you said, your tone dropping to something more intimate. “you’re late today. i thought you’d ditched me for someone else.”

a new ping followed, this time $50, accompanied by a highlighted message: “sorry ;) private livestream later to make it up to you?”

you laughed softly, leaning back on the bed. “hmm,” you tapped your chin thoughtfully. “i think i can squeeze you in on my busy schedule.” with a wink, you moved to grab one of the toys, careful not to linger too long on a single viewer.

“shall we begin?” you asked, spreading your legs slightly to reveal that you were wearing nothing underneath the flimsy lace dress.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

on the other side of the screen, jisung sat in his dimly lit dorm, his face illuminated only by the glow of his computer. he’d barely made it back in time, his breath still heavy from the sprint across campus. it didn’t help that the second he clicked into your livestream, you were already spread out on the bed, teasing the camera with that perfect smile.

he adjusted his glasses nervously, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. his heart was racing, but not from the run. no, it was from you. when you spread your legs, his breath hitched, and he felt his stomach tighten.

“you’re late today,” you’d said, and jisung shivered. god, it was like you were talking directly to him. well, you technically were, but still.

almost as if on autopilot, he unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down. his fingers wrapped around himself, and he leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the screen.

the angle of the camera was perfect. from his perspective, it was easy to imagine that it wasn’t the pink dildo but his own dick sliding in and out of you.

“fuck,” he whispered under his breath as you slid the dildo inside yourself, your lips parting in a perfect "o" shape as you let out a soft moan.

“feels so good,” you breathed into the camera, your lashes fluttering. “can you make me feel good, too?”

“yes,” jisung groaned, his voice shaky as he gripped himself tighter. “god, yes.”

your moans grew louder, your body arching in a way that made his pulse skyrocket. his brows furrowed, and he bit down on his lip, trying to keep quiet so none of his roommates would hear.

you tilted your head back, the camera catching the curve of your neck and the way your chest rose and fell with each breath. “don’t stop,” you whimpered.

as your voice came through his headphones, sultry and sweet, he muttered to himself, “so perfect. so perfect it’s insane.”

his hand moved faster, his mind filled with nothing but the image of you—so close, yet so untouchable.

he leaned closer, his breath fogging the screen for a moment. “god… i can make you feel so much better than that piece of plastic,” he muttered, his tone almost resentful.

“you don’t even know what i’d do to you,” he whispered

in a minute, jisung came hard, his entire body jerking as his cum shot up and splattered directly onto his keyboard and monitor. he barely registered the mess he made until he heard the faint crackle of his PC struggling under the assault.

“no, no, no—fuck!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking as he scrambled to wipe the pc with the sleeve of his hoodie.

it was too late. the screen flickered, the image of you mid-moan freezing for a few painful seconds before the whole system shorted out with a pathetic wheeze and went black. jisung sat there in stunned silence for a moment, his hand still clutching the stained hoodie sleeve.

“shit…” he muttered, not out of concern for his destroyed PC but because he was now going to miss the rest of your live.

this wasn’t the first time this happened. clearly, his setup was already on its last legs from similar incidents but it still sent a wave of frustration through him.

he slumped back in his chair, running a hand through his damp hair. “guess i’ll just have to catch the replay,” he mumbled, though the thought didn’t satisfy him nearly as much.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the first day of the semester loomed the next morning. you had promised yourself this was the year you’d start fresh. on time to every class, taking meticulous notes, and becoming the academic weapon you’d always meant to be.

of course, none of that happened.

you didn’t hear your alarm because you’d been up until 3 a.m. doing private livestreams for your top subscribers. normally, private sessions didn’t last more than 20 minutes, but andy had an uncanny way of distracting you with his playful, teasing messages, keeping you hooked well past the scheduled time.

you ran into your first class fifteen minutes late, panting slightly and trying not to look as frazzled as you felt. the professor shot you a disapproving look, but a quick apologetic smile from you had him stammering and waving you off. men are so simple, you thought smugly.

after quickly scanning the room, you noticed all the front-row seats were taken which left you with no choice but to settle near the back. you sighed and headed to an open seat in the second-to-last row, cursing your luck.

on your right sat some frat guy you vaguely recognized from the same house as karina’s boyfriend. his name escaped you, but since he was already asleep with his mouth hanging open, you didn’t bother introducing yourself.

on your left, the person was less immediately recognizable. he was hunched over, hoodie drawn tight around his face, typing furiously on his laptop. his long, slender fingers flew across the keyboard with precision, but he didn’t seem remotely aware of your presence.

you cleared your throat softly, hoping to get his attention. nothing.

you tried again, slightly louder this time, but his focus didn’t waver. finally, you tapped his shoulder lightly.

“excuse me, did i miss anything important?”

his fingers froze mid-typing, but he still didn’t look at you. instead, he tilted his laptop slightly in your direction, revealing a neatly formatted list of bullet points. most likely corrections to the syllabus the professor went over at the start of class.

“oh,” you said, caught off guard. “can i take a pic of that?”

he gave a small nod, still not meeting your eyes.

you quickly snapped a photo and smiled. “thank you so much,” you said, your tone warm as you instinctively squeezed his forearm in gratitude.

you felt his entire body stiffen under your touch, his arm tense as if you’d zapped him.

“mhm…” he finally muttered, his voice low and rough from disuse.

you glanced at him again, catching a glimpse of his side profile as he adjusted his hoodie. sharp jawline, glasses slightly askew, and lips pressed into a thin line as he quickly returned his focus to his laptop.

you tilted your head slightly, curiosity piqued. something about him seemed familiar, but you couldn’t quite place it.

“well, thanks again,” you said softly, giving him one last smile before turning back to face the professor.

behind his laptop, jisung exhaled shakily, the spot where you’d touched him burning.

jisung knew you were one of haechan’s friends. he’d watched you walk in and out of the dorm more times than he cared to admit. you were always laughing, tossing your hair over your shoulder in a way that made jisung’s eyes land on you unavoidably.

normally, he wouldn’t even glance twice at the girls his roommates brought around. they were all the same: loud, shallow, and obsessed with their reflection in any shiny surface.

but you weren’t like them.

he’d noticed it the first time you came over. how your voice was softer, more melodic, how you smelled like warm vanilla instead of the overpowering floral perfumes he hated. he remembered catching a glimpse of you bending down to grab something off the floor and how his gaze lingered too long on the curve of your legs before he snapped his head away.

since then, it had only gotten worse. it annoyed him that his brain seemed to remember every little detail about you. the way your lips always looked plump and shiny, as if you’d just licked them. how your laugh was this low, throaty sound that made his chest feel tight.

it was frustrating, how easily you wormed your way into his thoughts.

and now, here you were, sitting next to him. jisung felt trapped, his senses overwhelmed by your closeness. the faint rustle of your skirt, the way your knee accidentally grazed his thigh, the soft, almost unintentional hum you made as you shifted in your seat.

he knew it was all normal, just small, insignificant things. but to him, it felt like you were doing it on purpose. when you tapped his shoulder, jisung’s heart practically jumped out of his chest. his first thought was how warm your hand was.

his second thought was how unfair it was that you could touch him so casually.

“did i miss anything important?” you asked, your voice sweet, your smile even sweeter.

jisung didn’t respond right away. he was too busy trying not to look at the way your lips curved when you spoke. he knew if he opened his mouth, something embarrassing would come out. so instead, he tilted his laptop screen toward you, his fingers twitching against the keyboard. you asked if you could take a picture, and normally he didn’t like sharing his notes but he nodded before he could even stop himself.

“thank you so much,” you said, your voice dripping with warmth. and then, as if to kill him on the spot, you squeezed his forearm lightly.

jisung felt like static electricity was zipping through his body. his skin tingled where you touched him, and he stared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge how his breath hitched.

she doesn’t even know what she’s doing, he thought bitterly, his jaw tightening. so damn oblivious.

when you crossed your legs, jisung’s eyes flickered downward before he could stop himself. he caught the briefest glimpse of skin, the hem of your skirt riding up just enough to reveal more of your thigh, and his face flushed.

stop it, he scolded himself, tearing his gaze away.

but he couldn’t help it. he hated himself for it, but he couldn’t stop the way his imagination spiraled. he wondered what it would feel like if you touched him for more than a second. if your fingers lingered. if you looked at him the way you looked at your stupid phone.

his hands curled into fists under the desk, nails digging into his palms. he shifted uncomfortably, trying to will his body into behaving, but your proximity was making it impossible to think straight.

when the professor announced that these would be your assigned seats for the semester, jisung nearly groaned out loud. six months. six months of sitting next to you, of your bare legs grazing his, of your infuriatingly sweet perfume clouding his brain.

how am i supposed to survive this?

jisung clenched his jaw, his gaze flicking to the faint sparkle of lotion on your legs again.

she probably doesn’t even know how many guys in this room would kill to sit where i’m sitting right now, he thought, biting the inside of his cheek.

and yet, despite everything, jisung couldn’t help but feel a sick sort of satisfaction at being this close to you. like he was privy to something no one else was.

and as messed up as it was, he liked that you didn’t know. that you had no idea how much space you took up in his mind.

he glanced sideways at you again, the corner of his lip twitching as you absentmindedly adjusted your skirt.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

jisung bought a new pc, but it wouldn’t be delivered until the end of the week due to delays in the post office. he hated waiting. the old one had been perfect for watching your livestreams but now he was stuck with his laptop. the smaller screen didn’t do you justice. everything felt cramped and wrong, your image reduced to something far too small and impersonal. it frustrated him to no end.

so, in his growing desperation, jisung resorted to something he swore he wouldn’t do: borrowing haechan’s pc. at first, he only asked when he knew haechan would be out for hours, spinning some lie about needing to work on assignments that required a better setup for coding. surprisingly, haechan didn’t question him. he barely seemed to care, too busy running off to hang out with you and your group of friends. lately, you all seemed closer than ever, constantly whispering and giggling amongst yourselves.

not that jisung cared, of course.

but ever since you’d started sitting next to him in class, he couldn’t help but notice you even more. the way you crossed and uncrossed your legs every six or seven minutes or tapped your temple when the professor talked about a complicated topic. he hated that he was paying attention to things he usually wouldn’t. it was a complete waste of time.

today, jisung was forcing himself to focus. he had an essay due tomorrow, and he’d been putting it off for way too long, distracted by you (clearly) and everything Collette— streams, photos, even the grainy replays he managed to dig up online. last night was supposed to be productive, but instead, he’d spent hours rewatching one of the camgirl’s older private streams. by the time he passed out, his laptop was dangerously close to falling off his bed, his boxers halfway down his legs, and his dick sore after a night of relentless jerking off.

he made his way to the library, determined to lock himself in one of the private study rooms and finally finish his work. he needed to focus. no distractions, no excuses.

but when he opened the door to the room he’d booked, all of his resolve shattered.

you were there.

your books and laptop scattered across the table, and you were leaning over, reaching for something just out of your grasp. jisung froze in the doorway, his breath catching as his eyes landed on you. or, more specifically, the strip of black lace peeking out from under your skirt.

he knew he should look away. but his body didn’t seem to get the memo. instead, his eyes remained fixed on the sight, his chest tightening as if someone had sucked all the air out of the room.

his fingers twitched at his side, gripping the strap of his bag until his knuckles turned white. why are you wearing that? he thought, the question racing through his mind before he could stop it. are you wearing it for someone?

you shifted slightly, turning your head as if you sensed someone behind you, and that was enough to snap him out of his trance.

“uh—sorry,” jisung croaked, his voice cracking embarrassingly. he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat. “i—uh—this is... my room. i mean, the room i booked.”

you turned fully to him, startled at first, but then your expression softened into a smile when you realized it was him.

“oh, jisung!” you said brightly, smoothing down your skirt. “i didn’t realize this room was taken. sorry, i’ve just been so distracted, i guess i wasn’t paying attention.”

he forced himself to meet your eyes, his heart hammering in his chest. you recognized him now. during the first week of the semester, you’d seemed to be trying to place him in your mind, but he figured you finally connected the dots and realized he was haechan’s roommate after all.

“it’s... fine,” he muttered, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind him. the sound echoed louder than it should have, making him wince. “i didn’t know anyone would be here.”

“well, i can leave if you want,” you offered, gesturing toward your scattered books and notes. “but if you don’t mind sharing, i really need to finish studying for a test tomorrow.”

jisung hesitated, his mind racing. on one hand, the idea of sharing a small, enclosed space with you was borderline terrifying. but on the other hand, the thought of you leaving made his stomach twist in a way he didn’t like to think too hard about.

“no need,” he mumbled, setting his bag down at the far end of the table. “you can stay.”

you beamed at him, and he felt a weird mix of pride and dread settle in his chest.

“thanks! you’re a lifesaver.”

you turned back to your laptop, leaving him to settle into his seat. jisung tried his best to focus on his essay, but his eyes kept drifting to you: the way you twirled your pen between your fingers, the way your lips pursed as you concentrated, the way your skirt kept riding up with every slight movement.

he bit the inside of his cheek, forcing his gaze back to his screen. his essay wasn’t going to write itself, and the sooner he finished, the sooner he could escape this.

but as jisung stared blankly at the screen, the words refused to come to him. his mind was too fogged up, the image of your black lace panties flashing at him. he could still feel the phantom heat pooling uncomfortably low in his stomach.

he adjusted his glasses for the tenth time in five minutes, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie sleeve. he needed to concentrate, needed to shove every inappropriate thought out of his head and focus on the stupid essay that was due in less than twelve hours.

but every tap of your pen, every soft sigh as you read your notes pulled his attention like a magnet. he could feel his skin prickling under the weight of his own thoughts, and it was starting to make him nauseous.

you shifted in your chair, crossing one leg over the other, and jisung caught a glimpse of your bare thighs again. he wondered how soft they’d feel under his fingers. he clenched his jaw, staring harder at the blinking cursor on his laptop. just focus. just write.

“hey,” you said suddenly, your voice soft but startling in the quiet room. jisung’s head snapped up so fast his glasses slipped down his nose.

“yeah?” he croaked, his voice coming out embarrassingly hoarse. he cleared his throat and tried again. “what’s up?”

you held up a book. “do you know anything about this? it’s for my history class, but i’m kind of lost on what the professor’s looking for.”

jisung blinked at the book, trying to register the title through the haze clouding his brain. the sight of your manicured fingers gripping the edge of the hardcover didn’t help his focus.

“uh… yeah, i think so,” he mumbled, his words fumbling over themselves. “i took that class last semester. what’s the assignment?”

you slid your chair closer to his, flipping the book open to a highlighted section. jisung stiffened as you leaned in, your shoulder brushing against his.

he could smell your perfume better now. it made his head swim, and his palms sweat.

“here,” you said, pointing to a passage. “i’m supposed to write an analysis on this, but honestly, it’s not making any sense to me.”

jisung forced himself to look at the page, his eyes skimming over the text even though he couldn’t process a single word. your proximity was unbearable, and the way you tilted your head to look at him made him hyper-aware of every inch of space between you.

“um,” he started, his voice cracking again. “it’s… about, uh, symbolism, i think. like how they use imagery to—”

his words faltered as your leg shifted, pressing briefly against his under the table.

“oh, i get it now!” you said, your eyes lighting up as you turned back to the book. “thanks, jisung, you’re really helpful.”

he swallowed hard, nodding stiffly as you returned to your side of the table. his hands trembled slightly as he adjusted his laptop, trying desperately to block out the lingering warmth of your touch.

as the first hour dragged on, jisung realized he’d barely touched his essay. instead, he found himself cataloging every little thing you did, learning more about your quirks and mannerisms than the topic he was supposed to be researching.

he noticed the way you squinted slightly when reading something closely. do you need glasses? the thought struck him out of nowhere, and the idea of you wearing a pair made his throat tighten and his dick stir to life.

you only seemed to use blue highlighters and matching blue post-it notes. the monochrome dedication was oddly satisfying to watch. jisung noticed you had a habit of twirling the highlighter between your fingers when you were deep in thought, the motion almost hypnotic.

when you weren’t sipping on your drink or snacking on something you’d fidget endlessly, picking up your phone, or tapping your nails on the table in an uneven rhythm. once, you opened an app but closed it just as quickly, as if scolding yourself for getting distracted. jisung smirked at that.

he noticed the way you pouted while typing, your lips forming a subtle, natural curve. every time you got stuck on something, you’d grab a blank page from your notebook and start scribbling aimlessly sometimes doodling stars or flowers in the margins, other times writing the same word over and over like you were trying to etch it into your brain.

you also had a habit of adjusting your necklace every few minutes, fiddling with the pendant as if grounding yourself. jisung wondered if it had some kind of sentimental value.

and then there was the small gasp you let out every time you found a passage you liked, quickly followed by you underlining it with almost comical precision. jisung thought it was cute, though he tried to push that thought away.

by the time the second hour rolled around, he was practically vibrating with tension. not just from the overwhelming presence of you, but from his own failure to accomplish anything.

you sighed softly and closed your laptop, stretching in your seat with a lazy grace that made his stomach flip. the movement caused your shirt to ride up slightly, exposing a sliver of skin and a tiny birthmark just above your hip bone.

jisung’s eyes widened. it was a small, and it was a flushed, pinkish hue, vaguely resembling the shape of a flower petal—or maybe a heart if he squinted.

why does that look so familiar?

he frowned, his brain scrambling to piece together the connection. it snagged at him, like an itch he couldn’t quite reach. had he seen it on you before? no, that didn’t make sense.

and then it hit him.

his heart stuttered as he remembered one of the streams he’d watched not long ago… collette’s stream. she’d been wearing lingerie that night, black with sheer panels, and at one point, she’d adjusted the waistband, revealing a glimpse of a tiny birthmark right above the hip.

holy shit.

jisung’s face burned as he realized the truth, his hands clenching into fists under the table. he couldn’t believe it. the girl he’d been obsessing over online, the one he’d jerked off to more times than he could count, was sitting right next to him.

he stumbled out of his seat, movements clumsy and frantic as he fumbled to gather his things. his hands trembled slightly as he zipped his backpack and he mumbled some half-formed excuse about having plans with haechan. the words tumbled out so quickly they were barely coherent. before you could even process what he was saying, let alone respond, he was already at the door, practically tripping over himself in his rush to leave.

“what an odd kid,” you giggled to yourself, shaking your head at his bizarre behavior.

he was strange, sure, but undeniably cute in his awkwardness. you’d always had a soft spot for guys who didn’t know what to do with themselves, and jisung was no exception. there was something endearing about the way he seemed perpetually out of place, like he wasn’t entirely comfortable in his own skin. but beneath the oversized hoodies and baggy sweatpants, you could tell he was hiding something.

he had broad shoulders that stretched the fabric of his clothes in a way that made you want to see more, and you still hadn’t forgotten the time he’d stripped off his hoodie on that unbearably hot day. the hem of his shirt had lifted with it, giving you the briefest glimpse of his waist, narrow and impossibly toned. you’d been thinking about that moment more often than you’d like to admit.

sitting next to him in class had only amplified things. you didn’t miss the way his eyes darted toward you every few minutes, his gaze lingering on your legs before he quickly looked away, as if he thought you wouldn’t notice. that’s exactly why you made it a point to only wear skirts to that class; short ones, ones that made it impossible for him not to look. it was a game, one you were starting to enjoy far too much.

you liked his hands too. he had large hands with long, slender fingers that flew clumsily over the keys of his laptop. you caught yourself staring at them during class, imagining how they’d feel against your skin, the way they’d grip your waist or tangle in your hair. you wondered if they were soft or if they’d leave a pleasant roughness behind.

his glasses added to the appeal, big-framed and slightly crooked on his nose. they couldn’t hide his soft, pretty eyes, though, or the moles scattered across his pale skin. every detail about him seemed perfectly crafted to make him irresistible in the most unassuming way.

but then there was the question that had been gnawing at the back of your mind, the one you couldn’t seem to shake: was jisung really your top spender? your friends had been so sure, pointing out all the coincidences, and you couldn’t deny that it was starting to feel like too much to ignore.

you smiled to yourself at the thought, unable to help the way your lips curled into something slightly wicked. haechan had mentioned how much time jisung spent in his room, his activities hardly a secret if you listened to the muffled sounds that occasionally slipped through the walls.

the idea made your pulse quicken, a thrill running down your spine as you considered how to take things to the next level. if jisung was your top spender then he was already yours in ways he probably didn’t even realize.

you toyed with the idea of making the first move, testing the waters to see just how far you could push him. he was skittish, easily flustered, and you had no doubt that one well-placed touch or whispered word would send him into a complete meltdown.

you suspected that if you really went for it, jisung might just have a heart attack on the spot. and for some reason, that thought only made you want to do it more.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the next time you met him in class, you decided it was time to confirm once and for all if he was into you. you dressed for the occasion, a skirt that showed just enough leg to make him squirm, paired with a low-cut top and your favorite push-up bra, the one that made your boobs look perfect. you threw on a sweater for good measure, unzipping it casually when you sat next to him, just enough to reveal the curve of your collarbones and the top of your cleavage.

“hey, jisung!” you said, your voice soft and lilting.

he barely looked at you, his lips moving in what you assumed was a greeting, but it was so quiet you couldn’t make out the words. he didn’t hold your gaze for more than a second, and from the way he kept staring at his laptop, you wondered if he’d even noticed the effort you put into your outfit.

you leaned in slightly, catching the faint scent of his detergent mixed with something musky. “sungie?” you whispered, your voice low and sweet.

his jaw clenched at the nickname, and his hands froze over his laptop keys. “hm?” he finally managed, his eyes flickering up to your face for the briefest of moments before darting away again.

“do you want to work on the project together?” you asked, tilting your head innocently.

his brows furrowed as he blinked at you, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and panic. “what… what project?” he stammered, his voice shaky, his breath audibly hitching when his gaze unintentionally dropped to your chest.

“the one he just announced,” you said, nodding toward the screen where the professor had outlined the details of the group assignment.

you watched as his Adam's apple bobbed with a nervous swallow, and he peeled his eyes away from you with visible effort. “oh… uh…” he trailed off, biting his lip. the gesture drew your attention to just how plush and soft they looked.

“if you don’t want to, it’s okay,” you said, leaning back slightly, your pout deliberate and perfectly executed. “i just thought since you helped me with my assignment last time, you’d be a good partner.”

he glanced at you again, his gaze lingering this time, as if trying to gauge your expression. your wide, hopeful eyes seemed to make his decision for him. “okay…” he mumbled, the word barely audible.

“really? yay!” you said, your voice bright with excitement as you reached out and wrapped your hands around his arm in a playful squeeze. the movement was quick, but enough for your chest to press lightly against him, the warmth of your body radiating through his hoodie.

jisung stiffened immediately, every nerve in his body firing off alarms. the combination of your softness and the faint scent of vanilla clinging to your skin was almost enough to send him over the edge. he inhaled deeply, trying to keep his composure, but the air felt thick and suffocating, and he was perilously close to letting out a moan that would’ve humiliated him in front of the entire room.

“i promise i won’t be a burden,” you added, flashing him a dazzling smile that showcased your perfectly sized teeth. “i’ll do my part, i swear.”

he nodded mechanically, his brain too messed up with the feel of your body against his and the lingering image of your lips curling into that smile. “y-yeah…” he muttered, his voice cracking slightly.

as you turned your attention back to the professor, jisung exhaled slowly, his pulse racing. his hands gripped his laptop so tightly his knuckles turned white, and he realized with growing dread that this partnership might actually kill him.

when class ended, you stayed behind, which was unusual since you were usually one of the first to dart out the door. as jisung zipped up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, he noticed you looking at him expectantly. he panicked. did he have something of yours?

jisung glanced nervously at his belongings, double-checking as if your pencil or notebook might have somehow ended up with him. but you didn’t say anything. the silence stretched awkwardly until you finally stood up.

since the rows were so narrow, your movement brought you close… too close. jisung gulped as you stepped into his space, your perfume wrapping around him. he tightened his grip on his backpack straps.

“do you wanna start working on the project now? i have classes every day, and my evenings are pretty busy, so…” your voice trailed off meaningfully. jisung knew. oh, he knew. your evenings were reserved for livestreams. his evenings were also reserved for your livestreams. obviously, the project couldn’t cut into those sacred hours.

“uh, okay… do you wanna go to the library?” he managed, pushing his glasses up his nose. they kept sliding down because he had to crane his neck to look at you from this close distance.

“sure! next time, we can work at your dorm. i’d offer mine, but we have a strict no-boys policy in the apartment,” you said with a laugh, then added, “though my roommates break that rule all the time.”

“what about you?” the question tumbled out of jisung’s mouth before his brain could intercept it. his eyes widened as if he couldn’t believe he asked that

but you didn’t seem fazed. instead, you grinned. “you know, a lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” you teased, throwing in a wink that made his brain implode just a little.

as you spoke, jisung’s gaze flitted over you again—your mannerisms, your voice, that unmistakable charisma. the longer he looked, the more it hit him like a sledgehammer to the face. how had he not recognized you as collette sooner? sure, you wore a mask on the streams, and your hair was styled differently, but it was unmistakable now. you were her. and yet, standing here in front of him, you felt even more unattainable.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

at the library again, you couldn’t find a private room since you hadn’t booked ahead, so you settled for a secluded table tucked into the corner of the study area. it was jisung’s favorite spot on campus, not that he’d ever admit that to you. he didn’t want to look more like a loser than he already did.

you’d tied your hair up in a ponytail, and jisung wished you hadn’t. the simple change opened up your neck and collarbones, exposing more skin for his eyes to betray him over. he swore he could count the faint freckles scattered across your shoulders if he stared long enough. and, god, did he want to.

jisung sighed, pressing his palms into his eyes in an attempt to reset his brain. he needed to focus. if he was going to make it through this study session, he needed to stop thinking about your freckles or how your lip gloss shimmered every time your mouth moved.

focus, jisung. he started mentally listing the least sexy things he could think of: spongebob, frogs, khaki jeans, loud chewing. he even dredged up the memory of his fourth-grade math teacher, a grumpy woman he was convinced secretly hated him. it worked, until he realized you were talking to him, and he’d been staring straight past you like an idiot.

“sorry, what was that?” he blurted, blinking rapidly and focusing in on your glossy lips forming the last word of whatever you’d said.

you tilted your head slightly, your ponytail swaying with the movement. “i said, do you want to split up the research? or do you just want to work on the same section together?”

“uh…” jisung’s brain scrambled for footing, his face heating up again. “splitting it up is fine. yeah. let’s do that.”

you smiled at him, and he swore it felt like the library got ten degrees hotter. “great! i’ll take the first half, and you can take the second?”

“sure,” he mumbled, fumbling to pull out his laptop. as you turned back to your notes, jisung caught himself glancing at your neck and down to your cleavage again. frogs, he thought desperately. frogs. khaki jeans. loud chewing. but none of it helped.

he needed a cold shower. desperately. every time you leaned into him, jisung’s resolve cracked a little more. he was barely hanging on as it was, his left hand glued to his lap, pressing down in a feeble attempt to hide the semi he’d been sporting for the last twenty minutes.

“what do you think of this?” you asked, sliding your laptop toward him. your voice was sweet, your tone light and inviting, but jisung couldn’t focus on anything except how close you were.

“that’s good,” he mumbled quickly, trying to sound casual even though his throat felt like sandpaper.

“really?” you tilted your head, eyeing him skeptically. “you say that about everything i show you.”

“cause you’re really good at this,” he blurted out. he pressed harder on his lap, his fingers twitching in frustration.

you laughed softly, the sound making his heart stutter. then, to his horror, you gave him a slow once-over, your eyes narrowing slightly as you studied him. “you okay? you look tense.”

“yup, all good,” he said too quickly, his voice high-pitched. he glued his eyes to his laptop, pretending to focus on the passage in front of him, though the words blurred together into an unintelligible mess. please stop looking at me, he begged silently. please.

but instead, you cocked your head, resting your chin in your hand. “you know,” you began thoughtfully, “you sound like someone i know.”

jisung froze. fuck.

his mind went blank, panic flooding his system. his ears burned, and he felt a bead of sweat slide down the back of his neck. did you figure it out? do you know?

“but it couldn’t possibly be,” you said, shaking your head slightly as you turned back to your notes. “you’re too different.”

he released a shaky breath, his heart pounding so violently it felt like it might burst through his ribs. his lips pressed into a tight line as he risked a glance at you. so you did remember andy. jisung had assumed that with so many followers, even your most loyal supporter might fade into the background of your memory. but the private livestreams, the filthy words jisung had whispered that made you moan harder, all the praises and compliments he showered you with—it seemed those had stuck with you. because you remembered his voice.

“i’m gonna use the restroom really quick,” you said, standing up abruptly.

jisung’s eyes followed you as you walked away, the sway of your hips distracting him momentarily before reality snapped back into focus. as soon as you were out of sight, he groaned, his shoulders slumping as he looked down at his lap and the unmistakable tent that had formed there.

he needed to take care of this. now.

standing up, jisung winced at the sensitivity and began making his way toward the bathroom, his head down in an attempt to avoid eye contact with anyone. but just as he approached the hallway, he caught the sound of muffled voices. one of them raised, the other low and pleading. his steps faltered when he recognized your voice.

he crept closer and pressed himself against the wall, just barely peeking around the corner. there you were, gesturing wildly, your brows furrowed in anger as you stood toe-to-toe with someone jisung instantly recognized as sungchan, the captain of the basketball team.

“i told you to leave me alone,” you snapped, your voice sharp. “texting me from taro’s phone? really? now you’re dragging other people into this? why can’t you just understand that i want nothing to do with you anymore?”

“y/n, please,” sungchan said, his tone dripping with desperation. “i don’t know what else you want me to do. i’ve apologized a million times, and i’ve cut all communication with her. i haven’t seen her in months.”

he took a step closer, but you shoved him back by the chest.

“you should’ve done that before fucking her, don’t you think?” you laughed bitterly, shaking your head in disbelief.

“hey, it didn’t mean a thing to me, you know that,” sungchan said, his voice softening as he reached for your hip and squeezed. “you’re the only one i want.”

your body stiffened at his touch, and you glared up at him. “don’t touch me,” you hissed, but he didn’t move, his grip firm.

jisung’s jaw clenched. his fists balled at his sides as his eye twitched. why the hell was this guy touching you when it was clear you didn’t want him to?

“c’mon, baby,” sungchan purred, leaning in dangerously close to your neck. “you know i’m the only one who can make you feel good.”

before jisung could stop himself, he was stepping out from behind the corner. he cleared his throat loudly. the sound startled no one, so he did it again, this time pairing it with a sharp, “hey.”

his voice came out deeper than he expected, reverberating in the narrow hallway.

sungchan’s head snapped up, pulling away from your neck as he turned to look at the interruption. your eyes widened when they landed on jisung, standing there taller than usual, his broad shoulders squared.

“just wanted to check if you were alright,” jisung said, his gaze fixed on you, his voice steady.

sungchan’s expression darkened as his grip on your hip tightened. “and who the hell are you?” he spat, his tone venomous.

jisung didn’t flinch at sungchan’s hostility. his dark eyes flickered to your hip, where sungchan’s hand still rested, and then back to sungchan’s face.

“her partner,” jisung said evenly, his tone calm yet carrying a subtle edge. technically, he wasn’t lying, you were his group partner. “and she doesn’t look too comfortable right now.”

you glanced at jisung, your lips parting in surprise. sungchan let out a dry laugh, his hand finally dropping from your hip as he turned to fully face jisung. he towered over most people, but jisung stood his ground, unbothered by the difference in height.

“you’re her partner?” sungchan sneered, looking jisung up and down with a smirk that screamed condescension. “you don’t seem like her type.”

jisung’s jaw tightened, but his expression remained neutral. he looked at you instead, his voice softening slightly. “you sure you’re okay?”

your lips pressed together as you nodded quickly, your hands fidgeting at your sides. “i’m fine, jisung. really.”

but sungchan wasn’t done. “jisung, huh?” he repeated, his smirk widening. “sounds familiar. oh, wait—” he tilted his head, mockingly stroking his chin. “aren’t you that quiet little nobody who’s always hiding in haechan’s shadow?”

jisung didn’t react to the insult, though his nails dug into his palms. “that’s me,” he said with a shrug, his voice still maddeningly steady. “and you’re the guy who can’t take a hint and harasses girls.”

sungchan’s smirk dropped instantly, his expression hardening. “what did you just say?”

“you heard me,” jisung replied, his voice low. he adjusted his glasses with one hand, his confidence only making sungchan’s irritation grow. “she asked you to leave her alone, didn’t she? or was that too complicated for you to understand?”

you blinked at jisung, momentarily stunned at his boldness. sungchan, on the other hand, took a step forward, his fists clenching.

“listen here, you little shi—”

“stop!” your voice cut through the tension. both jisung and sungchan turned to look at you. you stepped between them, your expression firm as you faced sungchan. “i meant what i said, sungchan. this is over. stop calling me, stop texting me, stop showing up where i am. just—stop. i don’t want to see you anymore.”

sungchan’s jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring as he stared at you. “fine,” he finally said, his voice clipped. “but don’t come crawling back when you realize no one else is gonna treat you like i did.”

jisung couldn’t hold back the quiet scoff that escaped him, and sungchan shot him a glare before storming off down the hallway.

as the echo of sungchan’s footsteps faded, the tension in your shoulders eased slightly. you turned to jisung, your expression both grateful and embarrassed.

“thanks,” you said softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “you didn’t have to do that.”

jisung shrugged, his face a little pink as he adjusted his glasses again. “it’s no big deal. i just… couldn’t stand there and do nothing.”

“still, i appreciate it. my knight in shining glasses” you gave him a small smile.

jisung’s ears burned at the nickname, and he looked away, suddenly very interested in the floor. “ha, yeah.”

you laughed lightly “c’mon,” you said, gesturing toward the library’s main area. “let’s continue working”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

you continued having sessions for the project after class, and slowly, jisung started coming out of his shell. he still mumbled and stuttered every now and then, especially when your attention lingered on him for too long, but he was starting to hold actual conversations now. and once he got going, it was hard to stop him. he’d gush about the most random things, like his favorite video game characters or how much he hated remakes of old horror movies. sometimes, he’d pull up conspiracy theory videos about aliens on his phone, his voice picking up speed as he rambled about the possibility of extraterrestrial life.

“i mean, think about it… how could we be the only ones in this massive universe? that’s just statistically improbable,” he’d say, adjusting his glasses as he leaned closer to show you grainy footage of a supposed UFO. you’d nod along, amused by his enthusiasm, even if half of it went over your head.

you also learned jisung had a thing for metal music. he shyly pulled out his phone one day to show you his collection of signed albums from bands you’d never even heard of. “this one’s from when they did a secret show in busan,” he explained, his fingers tracing the signatures like they were sacred artifacts. “and this? their first album. impossible to find in good condition.”

“wow, you’re really into this,” you said, smirking as you scrolled through the pictures. “so... are you in a band or something?”

he flushed immediately, shaking his head. “no, no! i’m not cool enough for that,” he muttered.

you couldn’t help but smile. “i think you’re cool,” you said simply, and his ears turned pink.

but jisung’s curiosity didn’t stop at music or aliens. he was fascinated by the simplest things. one time, you brought a new lip gloss to class—the kind that didn’t smudge or rub off no matter what. jisung had been so impressed that he begged you to show him how it worked.

“wait, so it stays on? like, even if you eat something? how?” he asked, eyes wide as you swiped some on the back of your hand.

“even if i kissed you right now it wouldn’t come off”

“oh… w-what’s in it? do you have the ingredients list?” he stuttered, his hand coming up to his face to hide the blush on his cheeks.

you laughed. “are you serious right now?”

“yes! this is pretty cool,” he said shyly. “i need to know.”

he was, all in all, a total nerd. but you found that endearing. you liked how he could get so passionate about the smallest details, even if he didn’t realize how cute he looked when he did it.

what you wanted to know most, though, was if he was really loaded. after all, someone had to be, to spend eighteen thousand dollars like that. one particular evening, while you were working on the project at a cafe, you decided to subtly bring it up.

“so... you said you tutor a lot of students, right?” you asked, stirring your iced coffee.

jisung nodded, flipping through his notes. “yeah. it’s decent money, especially before exams.”

“and you... do homework for them too?” you added, raising an eyebrow.

he hesitated, looking a little guilty. “only when they pay extra,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “but yeah. it’s not a big deal.”

“huh,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “you must be really good at it to make that much money.”

“i mean, i guess,” he mumbled, avoiding your gaze. “but it’s not that much.”

“you sure about that?” you teased, giving him a knowing look. “because eighteen thousand isn’t exactly chump change.”

his head snapped up, and for a moment, he looked like a scared hamster. “w-what?” he stammered.

“nothing,” you said, smiling innocently.

he went back to his notes, but you didn’t miss the way his hand trembled slightly as he flipped the page. interesting.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the next time jisung almost had a heart attack because of you was after one particularly grueling day of tutoring half of sungchan’s frat. he’d spent hours going over equations with guys who clearly had no interest in learning and had been on edge the whole time, doing his best to avoid running into sungchan himself. all the bravery he’d mustered at the library had definitely worn off.

he finally made it back to his dorm, exhausted and ready to collapse, only to freeze in the doorway at the sight of you sitting prettily on the edge of his bed, flipping through one of the XXX magazines sitting on his desk. his eyes widened, and his mouth opened to say something, but no words came out.

you noticed him and laughed at his expression. “one of your roommates let me in,” you said, your voice light and teasing. “i think his name’s jaemin?”

jisung blinked, his brain struggling to process. “uh… yeah, jaemin,” he managed to stammer.

“i came to see haechan, but he wasn’t in,” you explained, crossing your legs in a way jisung was so familiar with now. “so i thought i’d pay my new best friend a visit.”

his stomach did a full somersault as he realized you were talking about him. “oh… uhm, hi” he said weakly, scratching the back of his head as he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

“hi,” you echoed with a grin, holding up the magazine. “some interesting reading material you’ve got here.”

“t-that’s not mine,” he blurted out, his face flushing red. “it’s haechan’s. i swear.”

you tilted your head, clearly unconvinced but too amused to care. “no need to be embarrassed,” you said casually, placing the magazine back on his desk. “you’re not the first boy in whose room i’ve found porn.”

jisung’s ears burned, and he had no idea how to respond to that. “right…” he muttered, shifting awkwardly.

“your room’s cleaner than i expected,” you added, glancing around.

“did you think i’d be messy?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“hmm, more like… sloppy,” you said, arching a brow in a way that could only be described as suggestive.

jisung swallowed hard, unsure if you were flirting or just messing with him. either way, his brain was short-circuiting. “oh?” he said, his voice coming out higher than he intended.

you laughed and leaned back on your hands, watching him with that same playful glint in your eyes. “relax, jisung. i’m just messing with you.”

he let out a small, nervous chuckle and stepped further into the room, trying to act like your presence wasn’t completely throwing him off. “so, uh… what brings you here?” he asked, carefully setting his backpack down.

“just bored,” you said with a shrug. “and since you’re my new best friend, i figured you’d entertain me.”

he blinked. “entertain?” shit, he almost got hard just hearing that.

“obviously,” you said, grinning. “you’re way more fun than haechan anyway.”

jisung doubted that, but he wasn’t about to argue. instead, he sat down at his desk, desperately trying to ignore how pretty you looked sitting on his bed.

“how about you show me how to play that game you talked about?” you asked, walking over to him and resting your arm on his gaming chair.

jisung blinked up at you, startled. “you wanna learn how to play League of Legends?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

“sure. it sounded fun when you told me about it,” you said with a casual shrug.

“uhm, okay then,” jisung said, his voice a little higher than usual as he leaned to flip the power switch on his PC. then he paused, realizing he didn’t have an extra chair. “wait, let me go borrow haechan’s chair,” he said quickly, jogging out of the room.

when jisung returned, chair in hand, his steps faltered. you were leaning over his desk, your skirt riding up just enough to show him what color were your panties today. his first thought, entirely unhelpful, was how badly he wanted to bend you over that desk. his second thought, unfortunately delayed, was that you had turned on his monitor.

and on the screen, clear as day, was his account page.

“so, it was you,” you said, the tone of your voice laced with triumph.

jisung’s eyes widened, panic flaring to life. “what—what are you talking about?” he stammered, dropping the chair with a clatter.

“andyp4rk02,” you said, your voice lilting with satisfaction as you turned to face him, crossing your arms. “i felt it was you. but i’m glad to have a confirmation now.”

jisung froze, his breath catching in his throat as his brain scrambled for something to say. “i—uh—what—”

“you’re not even gonna try to deny it?” you teased, stepping closer to him, the corner of your mouth quirking up in a smirk. “honestly, i was starting to think i was crazy. but you just confirmed it.”

“i—it’s not—” jisung’s voice cracked as he tried to speak, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.

you tilted your head, watching him struggle with an almost predatory gleam in your eyes. “relax, jisung. i’m not mad,” you said, your tone softer now, though it didn’t erase the teasing edge. “in fact…” you took another step closer, your voice lowering slightly. “i’m intrigued.”

“huh?” jisung’s voice was barely above a whisper, his throat dry as he tried to process what you were saying.

“the one thing i’m most curious about,” you said, taking a step closer, your tone casual but your gaze sharp, “is how you… a freshman, who doesn’t seem to have a job besides tutoring, managed to splurge thousands of dollars on me?”

jisung swallowed hard, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. “i just…” he mumbled, looking away, his ears burning as he avoided your piercing gaze.

“c’mon, don’t be shy.” you leaned in slightly, your smirk widening. “andy would’ve bent me over that desk over there and started spilling every single thing i asked for.”

jisung’s eyes snapped up to your face, wide with shock. how did you know exactly what had flashed through his mind mere seconds ago?

“s-sorry,” jisung stammered, looking like he wanted to shrink into the floor. “this is just… are you really not uncomfortable? with me, i mean?”

“why would i be?” you asked, tilting your head as though the question itself was ridiculous. “i’ve gotten to know you better now. i know you’re not a weirdo or anything.”

jisung blinked, staring at you like you’d just told him the sky wasn’t blue. “but i—i mean, with everything i said to you before… all of that—”

“all of that was online,” you cut him off smoothly, your tone light. “and honestly? i think it’s kinda cute how much you adored me. well, adore me,” you corrected with a sly grin.

jisung’s jaw dropped slightly, his face somehow heating even more. “you… think it’s cute?”

“of course,” you said with a soft shrug, your tone so casual it was almost disarming. “you’ve been sweet this whole time, even when you were trying so hard to hide it. honestly, i’m flattered.”

your lips curled into a teasing smile as you leaned in just slightly. “but now, i want to know—” your voice dipped lower, warm and slow. your eyes locked with his, drawing him in without effort. “how did you manage it? the money, i mean.”

jisung swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he struggled to form a coherent response. “well… uhm…” he shifted nervously, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “i… saved up a lot of money since i was a kid,” he began, his voice quiet but steady as he forced himself to meet your gaze.

“i made a system,” he continued, his words gaining a bit more confidence as he explained. “i cashed a lot of favors, even in school. i’ve been doing other people’s homework since primary, practically. also…” he hesitated, his eyes flickering to the ground for a moment before darting back to you. “my dad… he started giving me an allowance every month when i was 14, and i never really used it for anything. so… i’ve just been saving. for a long time.”

you tilted your head slightly, clearly intrigued. “wow,” you murmured, crossing your arms in thought. the movement wasn’t intentional—or maybe it was—but it pushed your cleavage up just enough to make jisung’s brain stutter.

his eyes flickered down for half a second before he froze, his face turning crimson. his chest tightened, his breath shallow, because he was sure that if he so much as brushed against you right now, he’d moan like some desperate, pathetic fool.

“that’s… impressive,” you added, breaking the silence, though your tone had shifted, tinged with something almost playful. “you must’ve been really dedicated to saving all that up.” your words hung in the air, light and teasing, but your gaze lingered, as if searching for something deeper.

“y-yeah,” jisung stammered, his hands fidgeting by his sides. “i guess i’ve just… always been good with managing money.”

“clearly,” you said with a grin. you leaned in slightly, your voice dropping just enough to send his heart into overdrive. “it’s kinda sexy, you know.”

jisung’s brain went blank, his entire body tensing as if he couldn’t process what he’d just heard. sexy? he repeated in his mind, struggling not to outwardly combust. his mouth opened as if to respond, but no words came out, and the only sound was the faint hum of his computer in the background.

“you okay?” you asked, your smile widening as you noticed his wide-eyed expression.

“y-yeah,” he managed to croak out, though his voice cracked slightly.

“relax, jisung,” you said, stepping closer, your fingers brushing the edge of his sleeve. his breath hitched, and you couldn’t help but smile at how utterly helpless he looked under your gaze.

“i-i am,” he stammered, but the way he gripped the desk behind him for support said otherwise.

you laughed softly, tilting your head as your hand slid up his arm, fingers ghosting over his bicep before trailing down to rest lightly on his chest. “sure you are,” you murmured, leaning in so your lips were just inches from his ear. “you’ve been nervous since you entered the room.”

“i… i’m not nervous,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

“oh, really?” you teased, letting your hand slip under the hem of his shirt. your fingertips grazed the warm skin of his stomach, and he jolted, sucking in a sharp breath. “but you’re trembling.”

“t-that’s not—” his words were cut off when your other hand came up to brush the hair out of his face, your touch gentle yet firm as you tilted his chin up to meet your eyes.

“you’re so cute,” you whispered, your thumb lightly grazing his jawline. his eyes widened, his lips parting slightly.

“you’ve been so sweet to me, sungie,” you continued, your voice dropping lower. “how could i not want to thank you?”

“t-thank me?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

you didn’t answer right away. instead, you leaned in, pressing a featherlight kiss to his cheek, so close to the corner of his mouth that he let out an involuntary whimper. “mhmm,” you hummed, your lips brushing against his skin as you moved to the other side, leaving a trail of soft kisses along his jawline.

jisung’s breathing was ragged now, his chest rising and falling rapidly as your hand slid further up his shirt, your nails grazing lightly against his ribs. “is this okay?” you asked softly, your lips hovering near his ear.

“y-yeah,” he managed to choke out, his voice trembling.

“good,” you murmured, pressing a kiss just below his ear, then another on the side of his neck. his hands gripped the edge of the desk so tightly his knuckles were white, and he let out a shaky breath, his head tilting slightly to give you more access.

you smirked, trailing your lips back up to his cheek, stopping just short of his lips. “you’re so quiet now,” you teased, your fingers lightly tracing circles on his stomach. “no more stuttering?”

“i… i don’t…” jisung panted, his words trailing off as your lips brushed against the corner of his mouth.

“you don’t what?” you asked, pulling back just enough to meet his dazed gaze. his eyes were half-lidded, his face flushed, and his lips parted as he struggled to catch his breath.

before he could answer, the sharp buzz of your phone vibrating broke the moment. you blinked, startled, and jisung let out a shaky exhale, his head dropping back against the wall in relief… or frustration.

“hold that thought,” you said, your voice still low as you reached into your pocket. your fingers lingered on his stomach for a moment before you pulled away completely.

jisung watched in a daze as you checked your phone, your lips pressing together. “looks like i’ve got to go,” you said, slipping the device back into your pocket.

“w-what?” he stammered, his voice cracking again as he stared at you in disbelief. “y-you’re leaving?”

“for now,” you said with a wink, stepping back and smoothing your skirt. “don’t miss me too much, okay?”

jisung could only nod dumbly, still leaning against the desk like his legs might give out at any moment.

“oh, and jisung?” you added, pausing at the door. he looked up, his wide eyes meeting yours. “you might want to take care of… that.” your gaze flicked downward for just a moment, and his face turned a brilliant shade of red as he scrambled to adjust his shirt.

you laughed, shooting him one last playful smile before disappearing out the door, leaving him flustered, breathless, and utterly unable to think about anything else but how good your lips felt on his skin.

that night, jisung lost count of how many times he jerked off. by the time he was done, he was so spent he didn’t even bother cleaning up properly. he passed out with a mess of cum smeared across his abdomen, his sheets damp and sticking to his skin.

the sound of retching woke him up.

he groaned, squinting as the sunlight poured directly onto his face. blinking sleepily, he turned his head to see haechan standing at the foot of his bed, his face twisted into an expression of pure disgust.

“look at the state of you…” haechan said, shaking his head like a disappointed parent. “seriously, dude, your dick’s gonna disintegrate if you keep going like this.”

“get out,” jisung groaned, voice hoarse. he rolled over, pulling the blanket halfway over his head to shield himself from both the sunlight and his roommate’s judgment.

“i would, but i have a message from y/n,”

jisung sat up at the sound of your name. his heart pounding as if he’d been jolted with electricity.

“she said she can’t meet you at the library today…”

jisung froze, the sudden buzz of energy deflating into cold panic. “oh,” he said softly, his voice laced with disappointment.

his mind immediately began spiraling. were you avoiding him? now that you knew he was andy, did you think he was a creep? were you disgusted? did you regret what happened yesterday? every terrible scenario played in his head as he stared blankly ahead, anxiety tightening its grip on his chest.

before he could spiral further, haechan continued, dragging out his words for dramatic effect.

“…she said she wants to meet you somewhere else instead.”

jisung’s head snapped toward him. “what?”

“she said she sent you the address and tried calling, but your phone’s off.”

his eyes darted to the floor where his phone lay facedown. practically leaping out of bed, he stumbled over the blanket, barely managing to stay upright as he grabbed the phone and plugged it into the charger.

“relax, dude. she’s not breaking up with you,” haechan said with a smirk.

“shut up,” jisung muttered, his focus entirely on the phone as it turned back on. when the screen finally lit up, he saw your message waiting for him.

his thumb hovered over it before he opened it. the address you’d sent was for a studio about thirty minutes away from campus. jisung frowned, his mind racing again. why there? what kind of place was it? and more importantly, how was he supposed to get there?

he groaned, already planning how he could convince jeno to lend him his car for the evening. but before he could get too far into his thoughts, he noticed haechan still standing there, arms crossed and a suspicious look on his face.

“what?” jisung asked, narrowing his eyes.

“nothing,” haechan said, but the grin spreading across his face said otherwise. “have fun tonight.”

with a wink, haechan strolled out of the room, leaving jisung standing there, equal parts nervous and excited, as he tried to figure out just what you had planned.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

by the time jisung reached the address you sent, he was soaked through to the bone. his hair sticking to his forehead, dripping rainwater down his face, and his clothes clung to his skin, cold and uncomfortable. jeno had flat-out refused to lend him his car, so jisung had to take the bus. the bus stop was two blocks away, and by the time he’d sprinted there in the pouring rain, his sneakers squelched with every step.

he stood now, breathless and drenched, staring up at the old building in front of him. the windows were grimy, and the exterior had an eerie, almost abandoned feel to it. with a reluctant sigh, he pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the lobby. it was completely quiet. the reception desk was empty, and no one was in sight, so he made his way up the narrow staircase to the third floor.

when he reached the door, his heart was hammering. should he have texted to let you know he was here? was he being too forward? after a beat of hesitation, he knocked, his knuckles tapping softly against the wood.

the door swung open after his third knock.

there you were, looking impossibly beautiful. your pink flowy dress caught the light, the fabric swirling around your legs as you smiled up at him. he’d never seen you wear a dress like that before. your makeup was flawless, more than usual, and the sight made his breath catch in his throat.

"you’re really punctual," you said with a soft smile, stepping aside to let him in.

but jisung didn’t move at first. his eyes scanned the space around him as he took it all in.

“is this…” he breathed in disbelief.

“welcome to collette’s studio.” you patted him lightly on the back, gently pushing him further inside.

“i wanted you to see it,” you continued, walking ahead, your fingers brushing against the smooth white sheets of the bed that dominated the center of the room. you glanced back at him with an expectant look.

jisung felt like he’d been dropped into one of his wet dreams. "i’m…" his words faltered as his senses overloaded, trying to catch up with what was happening.

"in shock?" you giggled softly, the sound light and airy. "you’re the first person i bring here."

"really?" he asked, his backpack slipping off his shoulder and falling to the floor with a soft thud.

“you brought your notes?” you asked, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.

"yeah…" he stammered, feeling foolish now. "aren’t we gonna finish… the project?"

your gaze locked with his as you moved closer, your presence drawing him in. his eyes flicked nervously to the neon sign hanging on the wall.

"hm, we can… or we could do something more fun?" you suggested, your voice a soft temptation. you stepped closer, until there was barely any space between you two.

jisung tried to keep his composure, but his body betrayed him. every inch of him stiffened as you moved into his personal space.

"i have a proposal for you, sungie," you said, your voice lowering, honeyed and sweet. your hand found its way to the back of his neck, your fingers tracing the skin there lightly, coaxing a soft sigh from his lips.

"y-yeah?" he breathed out, eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment at the sensation of your touch.

"would you like to guest on my channel?"

jisung’s eyes snapped open, disbelief painting his expression. “what?… y-you mean… do a livestream with you?”

he could barely comprehend what you were saying, his brain scrambling to process the words. "but you… you never do that… it’s always just collette."

you smiled softly, a glint of something mysterious dancing in your eyes. "you’re right, but for a while, i’ve been thinking of changing that. i just never found anyone i trusted enough for it."

jisung’s mind was racing. he couldn’t believe this was happening. you, asking him? how many times had he imagined being in this room, taking you in that very bed? but now that the opportunity was right in front of him, he was frozen. what if he wasn’t enough? what if he couldn’t satisfy you like you wanted?

“it’s okay if you don’t want to… it was pretty sudden of me to ask this,” you said, sensing his hesitation. you slowly withdrew your hand from his neck, leaving him cold and wanting more.

jisung panicked. he didn’t want you to think he was rejecting you, but the fear of embarrassing himself in front of not only you but a whole audience gripped him tight. what if he couldn’t live up to your expectations?

but then again, the thought of you finding someone else to do this with made his stomach twist with anxiety. he couldn’t back down now.

with shaky hands, he finally nodded, his voice barely a whisper. "i’ll do it."

“really?” you asked, your voice tinged with genuine surprise. you hadn’t expected him to agree. jisung didn’t exactly strike you as the type to willingly step into the spotlight, let alone in this particular way. this had every potential to go sideways.

but there he was, standing in front of you, his expression a blend of nervousness and determination. he looked like he was trying to keep himself from bolting.

you extended your hand toward him, watching as his gaze flickered down to it. he hesitated, just for a moment, before his much larger hand engulfed yours. his touch was clammy, his grip tentative, but it was enough.

“have you done this before?” you asked, glancing back at him as you led him toward the bed.

he looked utterly petrified, like a deer caught in headlights, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. “a livestream, you mean? uh… yeah, i’ve—uh—seen a few… i mean, no! not seen, done! wait, i mean—”

you chuckled softly, cutting off his flustered rambling. “no, silly. i meant… is this your first time having sex?”

your tone was so casual and devoid of any judgment that it caught him completely off guard. his entire face went up in flames. he nodded slowly, his lips pressed into a tight line.

your smile softened, and you stepped closer, placing your hands lightly on his chest. “then, we should practice before turning the camera on, don’t you think?”

he swallowed hard, his lips parting in a nervous attempt to respond, but no words came out. he simply nodded, his breaths shallow and uneven when you pushed him down onto the bed.

you reached for the straps of your dress and slid them off your shoulders, the fabric slipping down your body and pooling at your feet. jisung’s eyes went wide, his lips slightly parted as he stared at you. his gaze flickered nervously, starting at your feet and slowly working its way up, lingering on the delicate white lace of your underwear. he looked like he was on the verge of tearing up.

you moved closer, settling yourself onto his lap. the sudden pressure made him suck in a sharp breath, his hands hovering awkwardly at his sides.

“tell me what you like,” you murmured, leaning in just enough for your lips to ghost over the shell of his ear.

“w-what do you mean?” his voice cracked, and he looked up at you with wide, panicked eyes. his hands were still frozen in place, unsure of what to do, so you gently took them and placed them on your waist.

“you can touch me,” you said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair out of his face. “when you watch my streams… what do you like?”

his whole body tensed, his fingers spreading hesitantly over your waist. he looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin, but at the same time, he couldn’t seem to look away. “uhm… i-i don’t know… i… i pretty much like everything,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“do you like when i use the toys?” you asked, your lips brushing against his as you spoke.

“y-yes,” he breathed, the word coming out shaky and unsteady.

“do you like it more when i lay down or when i sit?” you asked, trailing your hands under the hem of his shirt and tugging it up.

his breath hitched as you motioned for him to stand. he obeyed, his movements clumsy as he pulled off his shirt and hesitated with his pants. his hands trembled as he pushed them down, leaving him standing there in just his boxers, his face burning crimson.

“uhm” he started, his voice cracking. he swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the floor before flicking back to you. “when you sit?”

the second the words left his mouth, you pushed him gently, and he stumbled back onto the bed with a gasp. the flush on his cheeks deepened, spreading to the tips of his ears, as he looked up at you with anticipation.

“good,” you murmured, your fingers trailing along his chest. “then let’s see if you like this more.”

the sight of you straddling his lap made jisung’s throat go dry, his mouth parting slightly as his breath quickened. was this really happening? was he actually about to lose his virginity with the girl he had spent countless nights fantasizing about? every inch of him buzzed with nervous energy, and for a fleeting moment, he thought he might actually cry—happy tears, of course, but still tears.

before his mind could spiral further, he felt the soft press of your lips against his. the sensation was so unexpected and overwhelming that he whimpered without meaning to. the sound would’ve embarrassed him any other time, but he was too lost in the moment to care. his lips parted instinctively, allowing your tongue to slide into his mouth, deepening the kiss.

your fingers threaded into his hair, massaging his scalp, and a low moan escaped him. the warmth of your touch was intoxicating, but then your hips shifted, brushing against the hardness in his boxers, and jisung gasped into your mouth.

“shit,” he whispered, his voice shaky as his hips jerked up in response, pressing himself against your core. the friction drew a needy, broken moan from you that he immediately wished he could record and replay for the rest of his life. his head fell back slightly, breaking the kiss.

“how does that feel?” you murmured, grinding your hips against him again. “hm?”

“g-good… so… go—” his words trailed off, his eyes snapping open as he caught you unclasping your bra. the sight of you now bare from the waist up making him forget how to breathe.

he’d seen you topless before on your livestreams, but this was something else entirely. now, you were right in front of him, real and tangible. your breasts were perfect, even better than his wildest dreams, and his hands twitched on your hips, desperate to touch but unsure if he even had the right to.

“go ahead,” you said softly, as if you’d read his mind.

jisung hesitated, the thought flashing through his mind: am i even worthy of this? but before doubt could take hold, you grabbed his hands, guiding them to your chest.

“fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his fingers trembling as they cupped the warm, supple flesh. the softness beneath his palms made his head spin, and he instinctively squeezed, earning a quiet hum of approval from you. “so… perfect,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, shyness seeping into his tone.

you smiled at him and leaned in closer, pushing your chest into his hands. his thumbs grazed over your nipples, and you bit your lip, the simple action making his heart feel like it might pound out of his chest.

“you’re doing so well, sungie,” you praised, your words wrapping around him like a warm blanket. he felt his confidence grow just a little, his hands becoming bolder as he continued to touch you, mesmerized by how soft and warm you were.

“c-can i…?” he trailed off, his lips brushing against your collarbone as he spoke.

“go ahead,” you encouraged, and his mouth descended hesitantly, leaving a tentative kiss on the curve of your breast. the feeling was so new that he couldn’t stop the soft groan that escaped him.

jisung pressed his lips against your skin again, this time lingering a little longer. he felt the soft rise and fall of your chest beneath him, and it was mesmerizing. the warmth, the way you smelled faintly of vanilla, and the soft sighs you let out as he kissed along the curve of your breast—it was too much for him, and not enough all at once.

you tilted your head back slightly, giving him more room, your fingers still tangled in his hair as he kissed lower. his tongue darted out, shyly tracing your skin, and he heard you hum in approval. the sound sent a jolt straight through him, and his hips involuntarily bucked up into yours, pressing against your core.

“that’s it, sungie,” you murmured, your voice like velvet, guiding him. “you can touch more if you want. i don’t bite”

the teasing lilt in your voice made his entire face flush, but it also spurred him on. he let one hand wander, sliding up your side hesitantly before it cupped your other breast. his touch was still timid, his thumb brushing over your nipple experimentally. when you gasped softly and your hips shifted against his, jisung nearly lost it.

“does that feel good?” he asked, his voice barely audible, shaky and full of nerves.

“mhmm,” you nodded, your lips ghosting over the shell of his ear. “you’re doing so well.”

the praise made him braver, and he leaned back slightly to look at you. your hair was slightly mussed, your lips parted, and your eyes were hooded as you gazed down at him. you looked like a dream, like something he’d only ever dared to imagine in the privacy of his own room.

jisung’s breath came in shallow pants as he watched you. your skin was soft, and your scent filled his senses, making it impossible for him to think about anything else.

“take these off too,” you murmured, your fingers tugging lightly at the waistband of his boxers.

his entire face burned crimson as he nodded, his hands shaking slightly as he hooked his thumbs under the fabric and began to slide them down. his heart was pounding so hard he thought it wasn’t normal, but the thought of stopping never even crossed his mind.

you leaned back just enough to give him room, watching as he pushed the boxers down his hips, his movements awkward and nervous. once he kicked them off completely, he sat there, completely bare before you, his hands fidgeting at his sides as he avoided your gaze.

“hey,” you said softly, reaching out to tilt his chin up so he’d look at you. “don’t be shy. you’re perfect, sungie.”

his eyes widened slightly at your words, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“you’re really cute when you’re flustered, you know that?” you teased, leaning in to kiss him again. this time, the kiss was slower, deeper, and jisung melted into it, his hands finally moving to rest on your waist.

you shifted in his lap, pressing your core against him, and he gasped into your mouth, his hips jerking up instinctively.

“s-sorry,” he stammered, pulling back slightly, his face a deep shade of red.

“don’t apologize,” you said, brushing your fingers through his hair. “you’re doing so well.”

your praise made his chest swell, and he swallowed hard, his eyes flicking down to where your bodies were pressed together.

“touch me more, sungie,” you encouraged, taking his hands and guiding them up your sides, over your ribs, until they were back on your chest.

his fingers trembled as they cupped you, his thumbs brushing over your nipples experimentally. when you let out a soft moan, his confidence grew, and he leaned down to kiss your neck, his lips trailing lower until they found the curve of your breast.

“just like that,” you whispered, your fingers threading through his hair again as he continued exploring your body.

your hands slid down his back, your nails grazing his skin lightly, and jisung shivered under your touch. his own hands started to roam more boldly, tracing the curve of your waist, the small of your back, and finally settling on your ass.

you shifted again, grinding down against him, and he let out a choked moan, his head falling against your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.

“you’re so sensitive,” you murmured, kissing the side of his neck.

“i… i c-can’t help it,” he stuttered, his voice shaky. “you’re… you’re just…”

you smiled, pressing a finger to his lips to hush him. “it’s okay, sungie. just let me take care of you.”

he nodded, his hands gripping your hips tighter as you continued to move against him. every touch, every kiss, every sound you made drove him closer to the edge, and he didn’t know how much more he could take.

you leaned back slightly, reaching between your bodies to tug your panties down, and jisung watched with wide eyes as you discarded them. he couldn’t believe this was happening, like any moment he might wake up in his bed, alone and frustrated.

“are you okay?” you asked, your voice soft as you looked at him.

“y-yeah,” he said quickly, nodding. i just can’t believe this is real, he wanted to say but he was scared he’d sound like a loser.

“wait a second,” you said, sliding off his lap, the sudden loss of your weight making jisung let out a soft, involuntary hiss.

his eyes darted down, and he realized—much to his horror—that his dick was now standing proudly at full attention, no longer constrained by his boxers. in his mind, it was almost mocking him, like it was giving him a thumbs-up for finally letting his hand rest after all those nights of longing for you. jisung felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over him, and his first instinct was to grab a blanket or pillow to cover himself.

just as he was about to reach for one, his attention was drawn to you. you were bent over by your bedside drawer, rummaging through it with an air of purpose. then, you pulled something out, holding it up for him to see… a shiny silver wrapper.

a condom.

jisung felt like his heart stopped beating for a second as he stared at the little package in your hands. something about seeing it made everything feel impossibly, undeniably real.

“ultrathin… so you can feel everything,” you said casually, your voice laced with amusement as you turned back toward him.

goodness, she’s gonna kill me. jisung thought, swallowing hard as he swore his dick twitched at your words.

“you’re quite big, sungie…” you mused, crawling back onto the bed with a grace that made his breath hitch. you moved toward him slowly, your eyes dark with intent. the way you approached him reminded him of a lioness stalking her prey.

“let’s see if it fits,” you added, a playful smile on your lips as you straddled his thighs.

jisung was completely frozen, his pulse pounding in his ears as he watched you unwrapping the condom with practiced ease. your hands moved so skillfully, the shiny material glinting faintly in the light. then you paused, looking up at him with a question in your eyes.

“may i?” you asked softly, your voice almost sweet, though your expression held that same predatory confidence.

“y-yeah,” he stammered, the word barely audible as he nodded frantically. in his mind, he was screaming, please, yes, god, yes.

the corner of your mouth quirked up as you leaned forward. your fingers were gentle but firm as you grasped his dick, and jisung couldn’t stop the shuddering gasp that escaped his lips. you slid the condom over him with ease, the mix of precum and the lubricant on the condom making it glide smoothly down his shaft.

it fit perfectly.

“fits you like a glove,” you murmured, your tone teasing as you leaned back to admire your handiwork.

jisung didn’t know what to do. his hands twitched at his sides, his mouth slightly open as he tried to breathe through the overwhelming sensations coursing through him.

then, without warning, you slid up his body, settling back onto his lap. the sudden pressure against his dick made him let out a low, shaky moan.

“ready?” you asked, your voice softer now, your hands resting on his chest as you leaned forward.

jisung swallowed hard, his wide eyes meeting yours. “y-yeah,” he croaked, his voice cracking slightly.

you lifted yourself slightly, aligning him with your entrance. jisung was trembling under you, his hands gripping the sheets as if holding on for dear life.

"breathe, sungie," you whispered, stroking his chest gently. his wide, panicked eyes met yours, and you smiled softly to reassure him.

he nodded quickly, forcing himself to take a shaky breath. when he exhaled, you sank down just a little, the tip of him slipping inside. his whole body jerked in response, a desperate, broken moan escaping his lips.

“fuck…” he muttered, his head falling back against the pillow. his grip on the sheets tightened, his knuckles turning white. the heat, the wetness, the feeling of you was unlike anything he’d ever imagined.

“good?” you asked, tilting your head as you hovered above him, testing his reaction.

“s-so good,” jisung gasped, his voice trembling. “so… tight… warm…”

you couldn’t help but smirk at his reaction, but you didn’t tease him. instead, you lowered yourself further, slowly taking him inch by inch. jisung’s breathing grew heavier with every movement, his hips twitching upward involuntarily as if his body couldn’t help but chase the sensation.

"easy," you murmured, pressing a hand against his chest to still him. "let me take care of you."

jisung nodded dumbly, biting his lip as he tried to stay still. his eyes were fixed on you, watching every little movement you made in adoration.

when you finally took all of him, you let out a soft sigh of relief, adjusting to the stretch. jisung, on the other hand, looked like he was seconds away from imploding.

"you're... you're perfect," he blurted out, his voice breaking with emotion.

you laughed softly, leaning down to brush your lips against his. “you’re pretty perfect yourself, sungie.”

you gave him a moment to catch his breath, your hands gently running up and down his sides to calm him. when you started to move, lifting yourself slowly and sinking back down, his head shot up from the pillow.

“oh my god—” jisung groaned, his hands flying to your hips instinctively. “oh my god, oh my god…”

his grip was unsure, as if he didn’t know whether to hold on tighter or let go. his hips bucked slightly beneath you, and you gasped at the unexpected movement.

"you're doing so well," you encouraged him, your voice breathy but soothing. you leaned forward, kissing the corner of his mouth before nipping at his jaw.

jisung whimpered at the praise, his hands sliding up your sides as he tried to ground himself. his lips found yours again, and this time, he kissed you with a bit more confidence, his tongue shyly seeking yours.

you rolled your hips against him, drawing a strangled moan from deep in his chest. his reactions were so genuine, so raw. it made your heart race just as much as his.

“faster,” he whispered against your lips, surprising both you and himself. his cheeks flushed red immediately after the word left his mouth.

you smiled, pressing your forehead against his as you obliged, picking up the pace. his grip on your hips tightened as he tried to meet your movements, his breaths coming faster and more uneven.

“you’re close, aren’t you?” you asked softly, brushing his damp hair out of his face.

jisung nodded rapidly, his eyes squeezed shut as his whole body tensed beneath you. “i—i can’t… i can’t hold it,” he stammered, his voice breaking with desperation.

“it’s okay,” you reassured him, your voice gentle. “let go for me, sungie.”

the permission was all he needed. with a choked cry, jisung’s hips jerked upward, and he came harder than he ever thought possible. his whole body trembled as he gripped you tightly, burying his face in your shoulder as he rode out the waves of pleasure.

you held him through it, running your fingers through his hair and whispering soft words of encouragement. when his breathing finally started to slow, you leaned back slightly to look at him.

his face was flushed, his chest heaving, and his eyes glazed over as he tried to process what just happened.

“you okay?” you asked, stroking his cheek gently.

jisung blinked up at you, a dazed but blissful smile spreading across his face. “y-yeah,” he breathed, his voice hoarse. “that was… amazing.”

you laughed softly, leaning down to kiss him again. “you did so well, sungie.”

he blushed at the praise, his hands resting on your thighs as he tried to steady himself. “thank you,” he mumbled shyly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“don’t thank me yet,” you teased. “we’re just getting started.”

the next day...

“sungie,” you said, your voice soft and slightly breathless. you were sprawled out on your couch, your notes and research scattered across the coffee table, all but forgotten.

“last night’s livestream got the most views i’ve had in months,” you murmured, looking down at him. “they must like you.”

jisung looked up from between your legs, his glasses fogged and slightly crooked on his face. his lips were swollen and glistening with your arousal, his cheeks flushed a deep red.

“really?” he asked, only half-interested. but before you could respond, he dove back down, his eager mouth finding your folds once again.

a sharp gasp left your lips as his tongue traced over you. this was already the second time today he’d eaten you out, and he’d only gotten better since his first attempt this morning.

earlier, you’d guided him through it, patiently showing him what felt good, what didn’t, and how to read the reactions of your body.

jisung’s long tongue worked wonders, licking and teasing in ways that had you gripping the cushions for dear life. when he sucked gently on your clit and flicked his tongue over it in quick succession, your thighs quivered against his head. he took note of the way your hips bucked involuntarily, doubling down on the action and making you cry out.

“you’re such a quick learner,” you panted, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging lightly to spur him on.

he hummed against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core. the sound was almost self-satisfied, as though he was proud of the way he had you unraveling beneath him.

the combination of his inexperience and raw enthusiasm was intoxicating. jisung wasn’t just doing this to please you. he genuinely wanted to understand every inch of you, to learn what made you tick and what brought you to the edge.

and he was succeeding.

your thighs clenched around his head, your body arching off the couch as he alternated between languid strokes of his tongue and quick flicks against your most sensitive spot. “s-sungie, oh my god,” you whimpered, your grip on his hair tightening.

he pulled back just enough to look up at you, his glasses messier than ever. “does that mean i’m doing good?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled, and for a second, his shy, eager-to-please demeanor broke through.

you let out a breathless laugh, your hand cupping his cheek affectionately. “you’re doing amazing, baby.”

his lips quirked into a bashful smile before he returned his attention to your core, determined to coax another round of trembling moans from your lips.

jisung park, you thought as you teetered on the edge of bliss, was quickly becoming an overachiever in the best way possible.

a/n: my inbox is always open for any comments about the fic! thank you for reading <3

[slashbitch2]

The Proposal AU! (part one)

Summary: when your boss Agatha faces the threat of deportation, she convinces you to marry her in return for a promotion- and things only get more complicated with a trip to Salem, an eccentric tarot-card-reading aunt, and a homophobic mother to convince.

Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

TW: deportation (which I admit I know very little about I'm not American lol) suggestive themes, sort of arranged marriage

W.C: 1.3k words

PARTS: TWO, THREE

Agatha Harkness was a terrible boss. In the five years you had been working as her assistant, you had her schedule memorised, you constantly tried to anticipate her needs, and yet, she could barely remember your name. And that wasn’t the only flaw, oh no. There was the erratic behaviour, her quickness to anger, the fact that she always teetering the line between serious and sarcastic, so you could never quite tell whether she meant what she had said. Which would be your excuse if she attempted to criticise your response time to her latest question.

It's just… there was no way she was being serious… Right?

“I’m sorry. Could you repeat that last part, please?” You asked slowly, steadily lowering the file in your hands to pay full attention to Agatha. She was sat at her desk, looking up at you as though you were an idiot. So, like usual.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to get down on one knee.” Agatha scoffed, and when you didn’t respond, quirked an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“I’m just having a hard time comprehending what you’re asking of me.” You spluttered out.

She exhaled, clearly irritated. Then leant forwards over the desk and demanded, “Marry me,” punctuating each word with the intensity of her glare.

Under her scrutiny, you could feel your cheeks flushing. She never usually paid this much attention to you unless she needed something, which was rare. But this was too far. It had to be some kind of test surely. Of what, you weren’t sure. Loyalty? Dedication? Insanity?

After a beat of silence, you finally remembered to respond. “You’re insane.”  You folded your arms across your chest, still in disbelief that she would ever ask such a thing. You knew Agatha was unpredictable, dramatic, terrifying even, but never could you have imagined her saying such a thing on this unassuming Thursday afternoon. She never brought her personal life into work, and so why she would want to bring her work (aka you) into her home, her bed, well- it was a mystery.

Your cheeks grew redder at the image your mind conjured up. You and the boss, in bed, together.

The silence continued, and you summoned the resolve to look back at Agatha. She was staring up at you expectantly, and you realised that, despite your aghast reaction, she was still awaiting a response.

“No!” You exclaimed, mouth agape.

At this, her red lips stretched back into a malicious grin. “I wasn’t asking, dear.”

Something about her teasing smile and her mildly threatening words flustered you. “Well… you can’t make me.” You responded futilely. You knew she could. This was Agatha Harkness, after all. She could make anyone do anything.

And yet… “No, I can’t.” Agatha conceded with a simple shrug.

This caught you off guard. You frowned down at her, wondering if this was some form of reverse psychology.

“But what I can do is offer something in return.” Agatha winked, and if you weren’t flustered enough before, you certainly were now.

You took a moment to breathe. To calm the way your heart raced in your chest. You recognised the innuendo to her words, but knew the connotations likely lay in more entrepreneurial benefits. A promotion. A raise perhaps. The possibilities were endless, and all of them would help you to pay the rent. Now that, you couldn’t pass up on so easily.

“But why?” You asked, quieter, reluctant to admit to yourself that you were settling into the idea. “Why do you need to marry me?”

“Oh pfft,” Agatha waved a hand dismissively. “Not specifically you. This is nothing personal.”

“Oh great. That makes me feel so much better, thank you.” You snarked.

“Come on, you’re a clever girl.” Agatha narrowed her gaze, that teasing edge so easily returning to her tone. “You can figure it out.”

You paused to think, running through everything you knew about your boss. She lived alone, quite happily so, which ruled out any kind of breakdown. She was about ten years older than you, which meant this probably wasn’t a midlife crisis. But in terms of personal information, that was about all you knew. Agatha was a married to the job kind of woman, constantly in and out of meetings, often the last to leave the office. You had tried to outlast her one evening, but upon seeing the delivery guy arrive with enough food to survive the night, you had given up and headed home.

You pursed your lips thoughtfully, eyes briefly flickering about the office when an idea struck you.

“Earlier today…” You began, speaking cautiously slow. “You had a meeting scheduled with your immigration lawyer.”

“Atta girl.” Agatha leant back in her chair, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

“You’ve been putting off that meeting for weeks,” you continued.

“It didn’t seem important!”

“Well, I’m guessing your visa expired. And you panicked, because being deported would suck, so you lied and said you were engaged.”

“Bingo!” Agatha clapped her hands, as though this were some fun guessing game and not a huge life issue that would turn both your lives upside down. “Being deported would suck, as you so eloquently put it. I would lose my job, so god knows what would happen to you.” She pulled a face of mock concern, pointing a sharp finger in your direction. “And now all I need is some all-American idiot to get me that green card. Simple. Beneficial for us both, really.”

“No. Not simple. Not beneficial for us both.” You shook your head, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. “For one, with you gone I might actually get a normal boss.”

“And where’s the fun in that?” She quipped. “Plus, me being gone would certainly halt your progression up the ranks- and where would you ever find a better recommendation than from your boss turned wife, huh toots?”

Agatha was talking with such rationality that it was giving you a migraine. You pinched the bridge of your nose in an attempt to soothe it. “Please take a moment to think about this. I mean is it even allowed? The whole employer, employee relationship?”

“Oh, stop with your worrying. I wasn’t the one who hired you.”

“And you really can’t think of anyone else to do this?” You implored, though you were afraid you already knew the answer.

“I admit I didn’t give it much thought, but what’s the problem? You’re not dating anyone, your family are abroad so they won’t get involved in any of it-”

“How do you know all this?” You interrupted, frowning. Clearly your prior assumption that she didn’t give you the time of day was incorrect.

“I’m observant.” She deadpanned. “So, it’s settled, we’ll get married, live apart for a year, then when the immigration office determines I’m not a threat to the country, we’ll get an uncontested divorce with two of the finest lawyers’ money can buy. Breeze it through the law courts and never speak of it again. You get your promotion; I don’t have my whole life uprooted.”

You hummed noncommittally, finding yourself at a loss for words.

“Great, I’m taking that as a yes!” Agatha stood up abruptly, striding past you to grab her coat. “Let’s hit the road!”

“What? Both of us?”

“Of course. You’re my besotted fiancée and we’ve got a immigration officer to chat with!” Agatha nudged open the office door, storming through the building without another word. You simply stood and watched her go, her long navy coat flapping behind her, swishing back and forth with every step. You momentarily entertained the thought that it was a cloak- that she was secretly an evil witch in disguise as your boss.

It was the only reasonable conclusion from what you had just been roped into.

Groaning, you reluctantly followed your soon-to-be wife, trying desperately to ignore the churning anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

NEXT PART

Notes: ok I need to fess up I don't have much of a plan for this fic and uni work is kicking my ass so my time is v limited. But I've always wanted to write something following the vague plot of The Proposal- the film this is based off in case you can't tell.... so, hope you enjoyed :)

[retroaria]

Hi, happy new year!! I hope you're doing great! 🎊🎆

This is genuinely so random but I would love to request fluffy windbreaker boys (choji, sakura, suo, etc etc.) reacting to their s/o calling them for help because they got hurt ... but it's just a tiny scar ! I wanna know how they would react if they found their s/o acting dramatic over a small scratch lol 😭

this request is vv cute, i don’t write for choji so i swapped him with kaji!! thank you anon and happy new year to you as well <333 ~ aria!

𓂃⋆.˚ these guys are somehow patient as ever... ── ★

★ how the windbreaker boys would react to an apparently “injured” s/o. gn!reader btw!!

★ mentions of blood, cuts, injuries, etc. for kaji, reader works in a cafe i just picked something random for the plot.

• wb m.list • as always, reblogs are appreciated!

★ he's just in awe...

“Did you just snicker at me?” you raised a brow in annoyance, shooting an expectant glance at Suo as he worked gently to wrap a bandage around your hand. Your question only seemed to amuse him more, the smirk plastered on his face began to stretch out to a smile as he tried to hold back his bubbling giggles. “Hmph~ I could’ve bled to death you know.” you pouted at him again - even you knew it wasn’t that serious of a cut, but here he was making you feel like an idiot for waking him up at the crack of dawn because you couldn’t cut an avocado properly.

“I’ve had nose bleeds more crucial than this~ you’re going to be fine my love.” he coed at you through his goofy smile, letting out a few breathy chuckles as he spoke.

The cut was right between your thumb and index finger, which was genuinely an annoying place to get a cut. You woke up this morning and for some reason decided to play master chef, wanting to surprise Suo with breakfast in bed. As you began cutting into the avocado, cutting through the skin and around the inner pit, you had failed to realize your hand was in the way of a full 360° cut. You pushed the knife down with a force you’d usually only use if your flesh wasn’t in the way, but of course, you didn’t notice until it was too late.

A fair amount of blood had gushed out at first, but the wound stopped bleeding by the time Suo had woken up to your frantic calls from the kitchen. He all but hopped out of bed and sprang straight to your side. When you lifted the paper towel you were using to soak up some of the blood in your hand, his eyes darted between you and the cut before he let out a sigh of relief - and slight disbelief. Without saying a word, he grabbed your hand and guided you into the bathroom, sitting you down on the toilet as he rummaged through the cabinet below the sink for the first aid kit.

As he made the final rotation around your hand, he pulled the end of the bandage tightly. You winced a bit and watched as he tucked it snug under itself. Suo looked up at you, still smiling.

“Does your ouchie feel ok now?” he said in a mocking tone, standing before you with your hands in his to bring you up with him.

“Fuck you, this wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t trying to do something nice for you…” you pouted again and looked away, feeling rather silly and unaccomplished for not being able to finish breakfast.

“Miraculously, you didn’t get any blood on the food. How about you sit down and I finish breakfast, hmm? Don’t want you working yourself too hard when you’re oh so injured, my poor baby~” he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into him, ignoring the disgruntled look on your face and planting a chaste kiss to the top of your head. “No more knives for you, yeah?” he chuckled softly against your skin.

★ has no idea what's going on...

“S-sakura! I’m serious! I don’t think I can walk like this, can you please come get me?” your words came out like sobs over the call, but of course, Sakura was already sprinting to you the second you said you were hurt. He got to the street you were on and peered down every alley until he spotted you on the ground leaned against the wall of a building, clutching your ankle in pain. He immediately ran over to you and fell to his knees beside you. He was panting from the run there and his eyes scanned your body for any visible signs of injury.

“Hey-hey, its ok. What happened? Did someone hurt you!? Who was it?” Before even assessing the scene before him, Sakura was in a frenzy. He was practically seething at the thought of someone hurting you, yet his hands began to wrap around you gently, contrasting his demeanor. You gazed into his eyes for a few moments before glancing over at the culprit, beaconing his eyes to follow yours.

“A…a soda can…?” his angered expression twisted into a dopy look of confusion. He looked at the can a few seconds longer before looking down at your ankle and noticing that your foot was aligned just fine. His eyes then met yours again. “Did you…just trip on the can?”

“Y-yeah, and I fell and scraped the palms of my hands too. It hurts Sakura…c-can you carry me?” you sniffled, bringing one hand up to wipe your tear stained cheeks. For a moment, he looked at you in disbelief. You caught his expression and furrowed your brows at him. “I’m serious! What if it’s sprained!?”

“Well, is it?” he asked cluelessly as he scratched the back of his head.

“How should I know!?” you shot back, upset that he wasn’t taking you seriously.

“I-I just wanna make sure! Did you try walking on it?” he was still a bit confused but his voice was laced with genuine concern.

“No, that’ll just hurt even more, please I don’t want it to hurt~” you pouted up at him, your eyes glossy as they looked into his. He couldn’t bear the sight of you this distressed anymore.

“No no, don’t worry baby it’s gonna be ok...” he scoured his brain for the right words to use, nervous to upset you any further. “I-I can carry you home and we’ll uh…figure it out from there. I’m gonna make you feel better though I promise. Please stop crying...” he pushed any possible doubt from his mind and wrapped his arms under your body, lifting you up bridal style. He gave you a warm smile as your body molded comfortably against his.

He walked you home and laid you down in bed, placing an ice pack over your ankle before laying down next to you. He comforted you in your fragile state until you drifted off to sleep, and eventually, you kicked the ice pack off your ankle as your body shifted in the bed. Sakura let out a sigh of relief, glad that you had finally stopped crying and that by the morning you’d believe his love and a little ice healed your supposedly broken ankle.

★ you're lucky he loves you...

panting, heaving, covered in sweat and slightly more scuffed than usual - your knight in shining armor, ren kaji, makes his grand entrance to save you. even from way behind the counter, you could see the subtle smirk forming at the corner of his mouth as he gazed upon your hopeful expression.

"I came as soon as I got your text, is everything ok?" his eyes scanned over you and the rest of the cafe, checking for any signs of struggle.

well, you didn't expect him to run here like your life was in danger. you began to feel a bit small under his gaze, thinking of how to tell him what happened. he walked closer to you on the other side of the counter, leaning in to get a betterlook. as far as he could tell, you didn't seem injured at all. his eyes made their way back to yours and he raised his eyebrow a bit. truthfully, he didn't want to accept that he'd abandoned his patrol early in order to come here for nothing, so he persisted a bit and calmed his demeanor.

"Hey...y-you ok?" his voiced began to rasp towards the end and he cleared his throat.

"Well, yeah, but..." you let your words trail off as you raised your hand over to him. he looked down at your palm for a few seconds before grabbing it with his hand and pulling it closer to him. after a few more moments of inspection, he let out a sigh and looked up at you.

"What are you even trying to show me?" he said slightly annoyed.

"You don't see it?" you pouted at him. you leaned in closer and pointed at a small sharp of glass splintered into your palm.

"I don't see shit..." he said slightly frustrated as he genuinely tried to find what it is you were trying to show him. He turned your hand a bit and the light reflected off the glass enough for it to finally show in his vision. "A splinter?"

you looked up at him through glossy, hooded eyes - trying your best to make him give in and help you despite the look of annoyance and disbelief plastered on his face right now. "Uh, yeah...a-and it hurts! so, i can't take it out on my own..."

he furrowed his brows and closed his eyes - turned his head slightly down as to hide his face from you. how was he supposed to scold you for taking him away from his duties when you looked at him like that? it was absurd. he took a few deep breaths before his eyes met yours again. he decided that he'd make sure you knew this was a nusance, but he still wanted to play knight in shining armor.

and so he sat there at the cafe counter, his face disgruntled and a pair of tweezers in his hand as he shaky attempted to remove the small shard of glass from your hand. if he had taken a few minutes to calm down he surely could've done this much faster, but eventually he did get the glass out - a sense of pride washing away some of his annoyance as you thanked him.

"It's whatever, y-you're welcome...but next time, don't just text me 'help', maybe fill me in on the situation before i run halfway across town." he huffed.

network: @pixelcafe-network

[qierxing]

A/N: An interpreted continuation of @shiny-jr wonderful fic. (checks calendar) Uhm, happy three month update to this series AND 1k notes on the first part! I would say sorry for the wait, but I really did need it LOL. Anyway, it's not super obvious, but the timeline is a bit all over the place in this part, because I'm jumping back and forth between past and present.

TW/CW: Immolation, violence, implied stalking+actual stalking, obsessive behavior, mild psychological and body horror, toxic relationships, Yuu uses it/its pronouns, we get a little meta in here, the boys are FIGHTINGGG I. II. | Isekai AU | Yan! Heartslabyul x Reader

“Who are you?” said the Caterpillar.

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, “I—I hardly know, Sir, just at present—at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.”

“What do you mean by that?” said the Caterpillar, sternly. “Explain yourself!”

“I ca’n’t explain myself, I’m afraid, Sir,” said Alice, “because I am not myself, you see.”

— Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Caroll

vi. Mourning

It is incredibly hard to get Yuu alone.

Whether it be by the forces of fate or just because so many vie for their attention, there is rarely, if ever, any time when someone is able to spend time personally alongside them. The only exception to this rule is Grim, who was practically the player's companion from the beginning.

So when Ace Trappola manages a rare chance to snag some one on one time with Yuu, he guns for it. Course, he had to time it perfectly. 

It was just another night like any other. Ace and Deuce decided to come over to hang out for a casual sleepover as usual. The four of them did initially start out studying, before the textbooks and worksheets were being abandoned in favor of more exciting things, such as the deck of cards that Ace brought with him.

Sending Deuce and Grim off to get snacks through a won bet over a card game was easy as pie.

"Hey Ace?" 

He hums in response, letting Yuu know he's listening. His nimble fingers shuffle the worn cards, flipping through them with practiced ease. Stacking them up quickly, he wonders if he should try to impress Yuu with another card trick to gain their enthralled praise.

"Do you…like…being my friend?"

The question makes him blink and look up in surprise at Yuu. It feels blasphemous to hear such doubt lingering in their words.

"Why? Scared I'm gonna ditch ya?" He teases.

Yuu doesn't respond, only giving a sheepish smile back. 

"I-It's not like I don't like being friends with you." He tries to keep his cool. "I just-"

Yuu's smile doesn't falter. "It's okay, Ace."

He's reminded of his previous girlfriend in middle school. It was more of a fling than a serious thing, but it's something he remembers vividly. Their breakup, after all, was rather dramatic.

"You're too much, Ace. Sometimes you just take it too far." 

What was even her name? Elizabeth? He could barely even remember, but for some reason, he still recalls the intense way her face was twisted in burning resentment. He tried to bury it in the past. He swore he would never fall in love or get into another relationship, preferring friendships over any kind of romantic trysts.

Now that he looks at Yuu, he already knows he's screwed up big time.

Yuu's gaze is no longer meeting his, instead staring into the fireplace that Grim had so generously set up earlier. The crackling blue flames reflect in their irises and in that moment, dread curls inside Ace's stomach. Yuu doesn't seem right.

"Hey…you okay?" He asks hesitantly, placing a hand on their shoulder.

Yuu doesn't move, still staring at the fire intently. He opens his mouth to ask again, but then they speak.

"If I wasn't acting like myself, would you still like me?" 

Another question out of left field. 

"Even if you somehow grow anemones on your head, Yuu's still Yuu, right?" His heart swells in pride at the way their lips quirk at his inside joke. 

"Yeah…" they murmur back. 

"Wanna see somethin' cool?" he says, holding out a card. Yuu tilts their head questioningly.

"It's the ace of hearts. What about it?"

"It's not just the ace of hearts!" Ace puffs out his cheeks. "Don't you know the meaning of this card?"

Yuu shakes their head.

"It means good news for yourself or someone close. Practically a lucky charm!" Ace waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "So how can things go wrong now that you have me?"

Yuu snorts and shoves him playfully. "Yeah, yeah, okay, Mr. Lucky Charm."

But it works. The foggy clouds clear from Yuu's eyes, finally returning them to the familiar luster he's used to. For the rest of the night, there is no hint of hollowness within them. And Ace hopes he will never see that sight again.

-

He should've known something was up since that night.

When Headmaster Crowley personally makes an appearance at their dorm, he should've realized it then. If there was anything that the old raven hated more, it was having to do more work than usual. 

"That person wasn't an imposter." Crowley says, coughing awkwardly into his fist.

The solemn words echo in his head on end. The rest of the Headmaster's words start to tune out for Ace. Automatically, his legs begin to move on their own. The calls of the others chase after him, but he ignores them, racing out of the lounge and towards the mirror portal.

Because if you didn't hurt Yuu-

-then what had he done?

When he first arrived in NRC, he didn't even know that Ramshackle dorm existed. Not until Yuu came to reside there; until he had to beg for shelter from them when he was chained with that damn collar. He knew that they didn't have to take him in. But they did, and maybe that's why Ace couldn't turn his back after that. 

The building before him is no longer the broken down hovel that he remembers back then. He remembers how the roof was almost caving in and wooden beams were always in danger of collapsing. Each knock on the entrance doors would send cascades of dust upon his head. Now, the walls are painted with a fresh coat of paint, the roof has new shingles, and the place actually looks like a house you could safely live in. 

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Prefect! Are you there?!" He yells, desperation leaking into his voice. "Please!"

Bang! Bang!

He's gotta be out of his damn mind, acting like some crazy person. But he can't help but be blinded by his fear. So he keeps hitting the door with his fists, praying, hoping, for…well that someone would open the door.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Yuu!!" He screams, and his voice echoes around him, mocking his helplessness. His fists are becoming numb from slamming the wood so hard, but he can't stop himself.

"Yuu–!"

"Oi! Ace!!!" A rough hand on his shoulder shoves him back and before he could knock the souvnabit-

"Ace, look at me!"

He's stopped by Deuce's fists meeting his in an even match of strength. Like an illusion broken, Ace stills and yanks his hands back.

There's only heavy breathing in between them for a long while. 

"...they're not here." Ace snaps to look at Deuce, who only closes his eyes in a painful grimace.

"What do you mean, 'not here'?" Ace asks.

Deuce doesn't say anything for a beat.

"What do you mean they're–"

"They're in the infirmary." Deuce's words flow out in a breathless rush. "The Headmaster said that after you ran."

Fuck, he just acted like an idiot then. No wonder no one was responding to his absolute earth shattering door banging and yelling. Then the meaning of Deuce's words begin to sink in. Oh Seven, no–

He turns and before he could even step in the direction of the main building, his arm is yanked back.

He snarls at Deuce. "Let me go! I have to see the prefect!"

"Housewarden is calling you back." Deuce forces out through gritted teeth and closed eyes. "The Headmaster said that…they don't want to see anyone."

And like a fire put out, Ace's anger chokes to flickering embers.

He lets Deuce guide him back, all the way from the Ramshackle dorm, to the mirror portal, and then back to Heartslabyul's lounge where the other three are grimly awaiting them.

Ace half expects to be yelled at once he passes the threshold. Or get some kind of lecture on how he should have better manners than to just run off like that. It would've been just like his housewarden to only care about weird, arbitrary rules when there were other arguably more important matters.

But his housewarden sits silently on his gilded velvet throne with glassy eyes. There's no anger burning behind them, and the freshmen are terrified to see their once proud and fearsome queen reduced to this husk. He almost would rather him back to the state where he was barking out orders for them. The silence in the lounge is deafening.

Ace swears they must be all thinking the same thing.

Please let this be a bad dream.

-

He tried calling you. Texting you. Hell, he even tried messaging you on Magicam! Magicam, of all things! 

Anxiety claws at his heart with each unread message and dial voice tone greeting. He has so much to say, to ask for-

Deuce wasn't faring well on his side either. He had also tried calling and texting you, to no avail. Grim, that traitor, hadn't come back to visit Heartslabyul at all since the incident. Never mind the fact he had only himself to blame for that—he thought at the very least the cat direbeast would have some sense of pity for their friendship and throw them a bone. 

Ace tried two more times to meet you. 

First, during your infirmary stay, when you were still unconscious.

The second time was when you returned to Ramshackle dorm with Grim.

Maybe the Seven were punishing him for his hubris. Or he supposes this is just karma. Because both times, he fails spectacularly at the front door of Heartslabyul. Because of this, he's the reason why Riddle had put them all on house arrest (with the exception of academic reasons, of course).

It's a declaration that would've been met with mutiny from all of them, if it weren't for the fact that even Headmaster Crowley had explicitly forbade anyone from showing up on Ramshackle's doorstep or trying to meet you. So he understands. Really! He does. He's seen how Riddle holes up in his room, muttering to himself while carrying out boxes upon boxes of crumpled paper. When he manages to snag a stray paper that flutters out on garbage day, Ace realizes that Riddle is also just as frenzied trying to reach out to you. Even if he is going about it in an old fashioned way.

He'll chip in to help. If his housewarden is left to his own devices, they’ll all be fossils by the time he sends what he deems a satisfactory letter. 

And the faster they do this, the faster they have a chance of reaching you.

vii. Embalming

The most horrifying thing is that it doesn't seem to care about dying.

That cursed pile of ceramic shards had disappeared—no, pieced itself back together—and once again, it became the smiling face of Yuu, the being they all knew and used to adore.

Riddle Rosehearts immediately smashed it to pieces again under the weight of his magic.

No one had tried to stop their housewarden. Not even the faceless mobs. Even if they were all alarmed at the erratic behavior of their housewarden, they could not deny the fear of seeing something dead come back alive. With not so much as a dent or wound in them, for that matter.

The third time it happened, Riddle ordered for the remains to be dumped into the school’s incinerator at the highest heat level. Surely, that would be enough. 

He watched as the incinerator roared and shuddered, shaking as if the pits of hell had opened. After a few agonizing minutes, the rumbling stops, and before he can even breathe a sigh of relief, the iron hatches creak open, and out strolls Yuu, perfectly fine and pieced together again.

It's magic. Or some kind of century old curse. Of course it is. After all, it was at a higher power than even Draconia's comprehension. Why he didn't consider the possibility beforehand is something he berates himself now. 

What might be the most damning thing is that it has no fear or suspicion in its face; even after the multiple times it’s been maimed and torn apart. Not like you, who immediately closed themselves off at being hurt so thoroughly. 

The irony isn't lost on him. The temptation of letting the puppet take its place back in favor of just bringing everything back to how it was is something Riddle could not deny. But now that he's actually met you, Yuu just seems more of a shadow of what he remembers during your interactions together.

It has your face. It acts like you.

But it's not you.

When Ace asks after the commotion at the Unbirthday party on how he was able to figure out that it wasn’t [First], he had to take a moment to gather his thoughts. Ace’s face changes into something of disbelief when Riddle merely replies with: “[First] takes their tea with two sugars and a dash of milk.”

“You were so sure only because of that?”

He doesn’t want to think what Ace’s face would look like if he had explained his whole list of reasons how he realized that the puppet wasn’t you. How he soaked up as much as he could when you came over for the tea party. Your expressions, your little habits, the way you fidget…it was all filed away in Riddle's head and later, his private notebook.

But that doesn’t matter now. Now, there’s an even bigger problem than the puppet resurrecting itself.

Grim is missing again.

This alone should've been more worrying than anything for Yuu, but it merely shrugs and says it’s not sure where he scampered off to. He's more than suspicious, of course, but there is no proof, which is infuriating already.

But without Grim, they are missing the key to finding [First]. 

The others raise hell once they hear the news Riddle reports at the weekly housewarden meeting. A new wave of tension washes over NRC and with it, an unprecedented deep disdain for the puppet. It returns back to classes unannounced, making Ace and Deuce rant to him about how weird it is that it’s trying so hard to act like nothing had happened. It attends school events with their camera, drumming up conversations like normal between all of them; despite the fact it gets ignorance or violence in response (depending on the person it greets).

But none of them are really sure on how to interact with Yuu.

The nicer ones, like Trey or Deuce, entertain Yuu with frigidly civil responses, in hopes of boring the puppet and making it flit away to another victim. Meanwhile, he and Ace have finally come together on an agreed opinion: that they would rather die before letting the puppet even think it could take [First]’s place.

“Go away.”

Yuu merely smiles in response to Riddle’s annoyed voice. The puppet leisurely lounges in the chair across the table from him. The school library is vast but empty, his authoritative voice echoing down the long halls. Several floating books flit past above their heads and the chandeliers above flicker with bright candlelight.

“I just wanted to keep you company.” Riddle purses his mouth in disgust. It’s invasive, it’s gross, and most of all it feels wrong to hear those words coming from Yuu. 

“I didn’t ask for your company,” he replies coldly. “Shouldn’t you know that it’s bad manners to bother someone who wants to be left alone?”

“I don’t think you like being left alone, Riddle.” He flinches at the way Yuu’s eyes bore into him. “Well, then again, you sure like to pretend you’re fine, don’t you?”

His hand tightens around the textbook he’s reading about cursed dolls. There would be no point if he brought out his magical pen and reduced it to rubble. But he is tempted, if only to get some peace and quiet for just a few minutes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Riddle says.

“Hmm…” Yuu hums into its hand, “...then I suppose I will just let you be. What a shame, I had something entertaining to tell.”

“What? What do you mean?” 

Yuu giggles and waves him off. “No, no! You said you didn’t want my company now. Why should I tell you anything?”

He resists the urge to incinerate the book in his hands. “Fine! I would like your company. What is this ‘entertaining’ thing you want to tell me so badly?”

“Hmm…how insincere,” Yuu tilts its head coyly with a smile more akin to a smirk. “But I guess that’s the most I can get.”

“Since you’ve all been driving yourselves crazy, [First] is safe.” The floor feels like it’s been yanked underneath him. The puppet is smiling still, as if it’s all some big joke rather than the revelation it delivered. He can hear his blood roaring through his ears.

“You…” Riddle snarls, face heating into a bright red rage. “What did you do to them?”

It bursts into laughter at his face. 

“Why, I only granted their wish!”

Its laughter is cut short by the sound of ceramic being crushed, and Riddle is left shakily breathing at the pile of shards that used to be Yuu. The puppet’s words churn over and over in his head.

What did you wish for? 

-

It is currently 3:20 on a Wednesday afternoon. 

In his planner, the bullet point neatly penned on the schedule shows ‘Studying for History Test’ in bold blue ink for the time slot. ‘History of the Queendom of Roses’ is laid open on his desk, to the chapter about the local mythos of the area, just as he intended. His notes from lecture are next to it, with several of his stationary needed to jot down annotations. 

And yet, Riddle has yet to touch any of these items or actually adhere to his daily schedule—he’s too distracted by what he should do in order to reach the player.

Riddle's already embarrassed enough, resorting to handwritten letters with the best calligraphy he can muster. He's sent only a couple that passed his satisfaction, and they have all been met with judgemental silence. He’s hunched over another crumpled letter near ripping his hair out when someone knocks on his bedroom door. He quickly shoves the envelope under some textbooks out of frantic instinct.

“Come in.”

A familiar bob of red orange hair pops out behind his door, and Riddle raises an eyebrow at the underclassman who enters.

“Ace? What is it?” Normally, Ace would never be in his room if he could help it. If he was in Riddle’s room, it most likely meant he was either being scolded or punished. And Ace’s eyes are shifting side to side, as if he was trying to sneak his way in. 

“Out with it, Ace.” He’s not in the mood for the underclassman’s shenanigans.

“Housewarden, you’re writing letters to the prefect, aren’t ya?” The question completely takes him off-guard sputtering.

“W-What does t-that have to do with you?” He tries to maintain his composure, but Ace is already giving him a smug smirk for the one up on him. Of all people, it had to be him finding out. 

"I had an idea, Housewarden. Why don't we send them something with the letter?" Riddle blinks in surprise.

“...How smart of you for once, Ace.” It was so simple, yet he marvels at the idea's brilliance. Perhaps there was merit in trying this proposal.

“Hey! What the hell does that mean?!” His underclassman snaps back in a huff. “Whatever, point being, maybe we should switch it up instead of letters all the time.”

He crosses his arms, “And what do you suggest? There’s not much we can really send that hasn't been sent already by other dorms.”

Ace winces. Clearly he didn’t think about the other dorms with more affluent people; people who had more than enough thaumarks and prestige to spend it to appeal to you. Riddle can't blame him either: although he is at the top of the school and his parents are well known mages, it's not like any of that could help him here. All of them, in a sense, were stuck in that situation. 

For once, he starts to resent not having more.

"Ugh, well…maybe it doesn't need to be so fancy, you know?" Ace rubs his neck, face scrunched in frustration. "Like…uh…you know-flowers! People send flowers all the time, yeah?"

This is true. And for Queendom of Roses’ residents, it has become custom to send bouquets with subtle messages left in petals and stems. Although he is a bit loath to admit that he isn’t as well versed in the language of flowers compared to hedgehogs.

"And what do you recommend, Ace?" He asks. "What would be the best flower to send to the prefect in our circumstance?"

"We got all these roses, why not send them that?" Ace responds, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Riddle coughs in annoyance. 

"Why not just procure some from Sam's shop? Today is Wednesday. Do you not remember rule 228?" He chides. Ace groans, rolling his eyes. 

"Not the weird rules again…"

"Ace."

"Yeeesss Housewarden…" The card soldier mock salutes with a deadpan expression. "I'll see if we can get some flowers at Sam's."

"You better, or else it's–" 

"-off with my head, I got it, I got it." Riddle seethes as Ace cuts him off and dashes out of his room before he could get another word in. So troublesome…

Still, there's nothing to do except wait for his card soldier to report back. He turns back to his desk, bringing out the crumpled letter from its hiding place. Running a hand over the crumpled pages, he attempts to pick up his pen again, but fails as his thoughts begin to wander. 

Riddle only manages to pen a couple legible sentences when his door slams open, banging against the wall. He almost falls out of his chair in shock from the loud noise. How was Ace back so quickly?

"Have you not heard of knocking?!" He scowls, turning around to see Ace panting and sweating as if he had run a marathon.

"Never mind that, Housewarden, I saw them!" Ace shouts. 

“What are you jabbering…” Riddle trails off in realization. “You better not be horsing around, Ace.”

“Do you think I would lie to you about this?” Ace retorts frantically. “I saw them at Sam’s shop working the cashier!”

For a moment, his mind races with this information. If you were working at Sam’s shop, it would explain why you weren’t showing up to classes, let alone in the hallways or rooms of NRC. It’s a clever ruse—classes may be over during this time of day, but nearly all of them were participating in mandatory club activities or study labs. No wonder no one else has caught on to this. Riddle rubs his chin in thought, settling back in his chair.

“What are you going to do now, Housewarden Riddle?” Ace asks hesitantly. His eyes are filled with some kind of anticipation and hope, no doubt wondering if he could get some leeway in his own agenda. Normally, he would go right away as there was no need to hesitate about these kinds of things.

But. Crowley’s stern announcement comes back to his mind and guilt starts to creep in. 

“First, we’ll go with your idea, Ace.” He responds. “The ban hasn’t been lifted, after all.” Ace opens his mouth to protest, but he holds a hand up to interrupt him.

“But if that doesn’t work, then I’m sure even Crowley can’t say anything about coincidences.”

viii. Calling Hours

“I’m not joking around, you two.” 

There’s very few times that the vice housewarden of Heartslabyul gets truly mad. His patience seems boundless, honed by years of taking care of younger siblings at home and then dealing with rowdy underclassmen in NRC. But even his saint-like patience could only stretch so far.  

“I told you, we didn’t do it!” Ace scowls with furrowed eyebrows and crossed arms. Meanwhile, Deuce is silent by his side, face twisted with conflicting emotions. “You don’t even have proof! You just singled us out just because!”

“Who else was around the kitchen when I left it?” Trey asks, voice starting to rise in anger. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice you two lurking around before?”

The two freshmen began to speak out, voices rambling over each other and cascading into a loud shouting match that was barely intelligible.

“We just wanted to see if we could get something from the fridge, how were we supposed to know someone would-”

“Me and Ace just wanted to bring something along when we deliver the Housewarden’s invitation to-”

"You dumbass, don't just say that out loud-!"

It’s at this moment that Cater Diamond strolls in, takes one look at the mess of the situation and does a 180 back round to the door. But it’s too late, because the interruption is just enough for Ace to sink his hooks into him.

“Cater-senpai, you believe us, right?” Ace shouts after the orange head, making him flinch in place. “You saw us get the order from Housewarden Riddle!”

Cater turns around slowly like a door on rusty hinges, with an expression that screams of not wanting to be involved. "Oh Acey! Uhm, you mean the letter Riddle gave you two-"

"Yes!" Deuce interrupts in earnest, already trying to barrel his way to proving his innocence. "Housewarden Riddle entrusted us to deliver the tea party invitation ourselves personally." 

Cater turns to Trey, who is rubbing the bridge of his nose, eyes closed with a tiredness that seems comically reminiscent of an old man. "Well, I'm not sure what this is all about, Trey, but maybe you should cut 'em some slack and let it go."

The other senior nods in reluctant agreement and the two freshmen all but nearly trample over each other trying to run from the tension filled room. But they're stopped in their tracks when Trey calls out again.

"Wait, you two." The duo slowly looks back with cautious eyes.

"You wanted to bring something to the prefect, didn't you?" Trey tilts his head to one of the many strange topsy turvey cabinets in the kitchen. "I have some leftover cookies that I made yesterday. Take them. I'm sorry for accusing you guys like that."

Ace and Deuce exchange confused glances, and although Ace looks away in denial, Deuce nods in gratitude. They leave the kitchen just as chaotically, this time with the aroma of lavender following them.

A brief silence follows their absence, while Cater raises an eyebrow at Trey.

"Sooo…care to spill the tea?"

"Don't even start." Trey groans.

Cater seats himself on one of the stools near the counter, waiting. Trey busies himself with cleaning the stoves and counter, trying not to meet Cater's eyes. Silence falls, but it's with none of the comfort that Cater is familiar with. Giving up, he turns to his phone, refreshing his Magicam dash mindlessly. This continues for a good while until finally—

A low sigh, then– "Somebody took my candied violets."

Cater looks up from his phone. Another beat passes, and he realizes it's not a passing statement. 

"It's not like you to get this bent out of shape over your ingredients going MIA." Cater shifts his face onto the elbow meeting pristine marble while shoving his phone away. "You sure that one of the froshes didn't just end up taking them thinking they were for everyone?"

Trey lets out a rough guffaw. "You know better than I do that the others don't touch our stuff."

Cater taps his fingers on the polished white granite, hands already itching to grab his phone and check for updates, but he restrains himself. "That's…mostly true."

"That can only mean one of you guys has taken it." The hairs on Cater's neck raise at Trey's tone.

"Hey now," Cater grins, raising his hands in mock surrender, "you heard it from those two. I was with Riddle when he gave them that invitation."

"I know." Cater's fingers twitch as Trey carelessly tossed aside the rag used to clean the counter into a bucket. The soggy fabric makes a hollow sound against the wood, echoing rather loudly in contrast. "But Riddle would never do such a thing either."

Cater resists the urge to roll his eyes. It's true that their cute housewarden would hardly dare to stoop to thievery, but Trey's blind faith in him can be annoying at times. After all, didn't their little teapot tyrant threaten to kill the prefect at one point?

He supposes that was his fault, though.

"Then it's back to square one." Cater shrugs. "Besides, what were you even planning to do with them if you weren't gonna eat it?"

The baker runs a hand through his mussed forest green hair and frowns. "I was going to bake a cake with them as a peace offering to the prefect."

Cater's mouth forms an 'o' shape in realization. "That's pretty big brain."

"Yeah, but look how that turned out."

"It's fine~you were able to at least send cookies this time round." Cater finally cracks, digging into his pocket for the familiar grooves of his phone case. "All's well that ends well, right?"

Trey doesn't respond and Cater is too engrossed in his phone to look up to see his expression. He slides off the stool naturally, tapping through recent posts and comments, eyes laser focused on recent posts on his dash. 

"Cater." 

There it is. It's the most recent story reel by Ace(according to the time stamp, about two minutes ago). It's an inconspicuous black out picture with several cute teapot and teacup stickers decorating the screen. The banner message is short and sweet: 'Dorm tea party bout to get real this month 🤔😶'

"Cater." Cater's attention snaps back and towards his friend, who gazes at him with dark eyes.

"Please don't lie to me next time."

With that, Cater watches as his long time friend finally leaves the kitchen. 

Thank the Seven he did. He might have been a decent actor, but Trey has been with him through thick and thin, and it's given him the annoying ability to see through his tells.

Really now. Trey knows that he hates sweets. Shouldn't that be enough of an alibi?

It's not fair that Trey already has everything to set him up for a good relationship with you. Even if they're all set back by their violent reaction to you arriving in this world, he's sure it would only take a couple tries with Trey offering genuine heartfelt food to get to you.

It's just not fair. 

Isn't he fun to hang out with? He consistently gets compliments online for his suave looks and easy personality. So why couldn't he compare to-

He shakes his head. There's no point in overthinking it now. Cay Cay #3 had easily taken the cutely decorated jar of violets and discarded it in the dorm dumpster. Like candy from a baby.

He knows it's petty. But for once, he feels much better, knowing that he upset Trey's original plans to ensnare you.

Now, he once again checks Ace's story reel and screenshots it, while quickly pulling up the search bar. He just needs to level the playing field.

-

There can only be one fake bitch in this house and Cater has had enough of the competition.

“I wasn’t aware that you were going to visit me, Cater.” 

The puppet tilts its head with a warm smile, but there’s a frosty undercurrent to the greeting. It’s clear that he’s not welcome, if the way it’s blocking the doorway of Ramshackle has anything to say.

“Yeah, I ended up losing something here. You mind if I look for it, Yuu-chan?” Cater asks innocently. “Promise it won’t take too long.”

“Hm, sure. But I don’t think you’ll find what you’re looking for.” Yuu's grin is sharp as a razor blade. It knows what he’s here for and it’s definitely taunting him. That little–

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to look~” He responds back airily. His fist curls around his phone in his pocket tightly. The puppet shrugs and walks off, leaving him standing in the doorway.

It’s been a while since he’s personally been at Ramshackle dorm. Cater remembers how Ace complained about the house being a real fixer upper, but then again, he doesn’t remember much of that, since Yuu always spent most of the time at Heartslabyul dorm. The renovations certainly made it much more pleasing to the eye and more importantly, livable by HOA standards.

There’s nothing to write home about the living room. The coffee table is bare and there’s no wrinkles in the sofa cushions at all. It’s a little eerie—as if no one even lived in the house in the first place. The only sign of living was perhaps the fact it is clean of dust or dirt. 

Nothing in the kitchen either. He gives a wayward glance to the second floor, searching for any signs of movement. Couldn’t hurt to be thorough. 

Rows of tall doors pass by as Cater opens each one of them. A storage closet, a spare room, an electric cabinet, another storage area–it all blurs by after the fourth door. There really is nothing, as if the whole house has been wiped of any trace of you. He's about to toss in the towel when an old, dusty memory crops up. His little freshman, Ace. Cater swears he had been making fun of Yuu for seeing strange things at night. Something about a mouse?

Right, their room! Why didn't he think of looking there?  

His feet take him rapidly from memory to the door that was the third from last in the hallway in the east wing. He manages to wrench the door open to see a regular bedroom, bed sheets barely stirred. Before he can even put one foot in, a throat clears behind him. 

"It's rather rude to go into other people's bedrooms, don't you think?"

You got to be kidding me. Cater turns around with the fakest smile plastered across his face. Yuu looks unamused, tapping its foot impatiently against the wooden floorboards. 

"Just wanted to make sure, y'know?" Cater replies. Yuu gives a tight smile back. It goes around him and shuts the door with a hard thunk.

"Ever heard about how curiosity killed the cat?" 

Cater shakes his head in surrender, "I guess I need to look elsewhere for my lost item."

The entrance doors slam shut behind him hard enough to startle several birds out the dead trees in the yard. Cater doesn't bother giving a look back as he strides out of the yard and past the gated fence surrounding the property. That glimpse was enough and much more. Cater smirks to himself, taking his phone out and sending a quick text message to the group chat. Yes, curiosity may have killed the poor kitty cat…

But satisfaction brought it back.

viiii. Eulogy

It might surprise people to know that Trey Clover's first real friend is Che'nya Pinker.

That's not to say that Trey had trouble getting along with others as a kid, oh no. Everyone in his neighborhood agreed that he was a very sweet boy, who looked out for others around him. When he wasn’t taking care of his baby sister, he would be asked by other parents around the block to look after their own children, whether that be playing soccer games with the more energetic kids or patty cakes with the quiet ones. So it isn’t a stretch to say that he’s friends with nearly everyone. But Che’nya was a special case.

Their first meeting is still burned into Trey’s memory.

“You see it too, don’cha?” The boy had greeted him while swinging upside down on a low hanging tree branch. Trey had half a mind to scold him for the dangerous action before he actually looked at him. 

The first thing that takes Trey off guard is that he has eyes. They’re a shiny yellow, just a shade lighter than his. His pupils are long and thin, not round like his at all. He supposes it must be like a cat’s pupils—for he’s never seen anything like it. Then it’s his unique colorful hair, streaks of light pink intermingling with dark purple, making a strange striped pattern across the chopped uneven hair. Trey faintly recalls a certain cat from their local legends, whose fur boasted those very same colors. 

“...What are you talking about?” Trey eyes him warily. The cat boy gives a cheeky grin. He vanishes and then reappears in front of him, albeit with missing arms.

“The people around us who wear the faces of strangers.” Trey’s skin gets goosebumps at the way the boy observes him. He is not looking through Trey, but at him. Their eyes are directly making contact. “But you’re different. You have the face of a friend.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Trey furrows his eyebrows. The boy's grin stretches wider in response. (His teeth were rather blunter than expected, but his canines were pointed.)

“You’re strange. I’m stranger. Together, we can both be strange,” the cat boy chirps back lightheartedly. “The name’s Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker. But you can just call me Che’nya.”

Something in his mind had clicked then. It’s hard to explain the feeling–just that it felt like a puzzle piece put into place. He hadn’t known it then, but at that point, the hands of fate had moved. 

Whatever the case may be, Trey was grateful to have Che’nya. Because now he knows that he isn’t crazy; not when he couldn’t see his parent’s faces nor his baby sister’s or even his other friends'. Che’nya too, only shrugs his shoulders when Trey asks him about his grandfather.

“The old man? Yeah, they say I have his eyes, but I wouldn’t know.” The statement is so casually delivered that Trey can hardly believe he’s talking about his only living relative and guardian. “His face does not mirror mine in my mind.”

Staring down at you, shivering with cold and hunger, he feels something churn in him again, just like that fateful day. 

He has his orders from Riddle: bring in the imposter alive. Trey isn’t a violent sort and nor does he enjoy boasting his strength over others like a sadist. And he cannot deny the feeling of cold rage that day when Yuu shuts down, fear inundating him that he may never, ever, get an explanation for the world he was born in. Why he and Che’nya were special, why he had to witness Riddle suffer under his mother–what was it all for?

Your face. There is no blank stretched skin—he can see your wide open eyes, bloodshot and fixated on him. Your mouth too, shaped in a pained grimace, lips bruised and bloodied from previous skirmishes. Surely, surely, there must be a reason why you were here. Why you bear the same face as Yuu. You hold all the answers, if you would just cooperate.

“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Trey tries reaching out, but you scurry back into the hedges, squinted eyes wary and untrusting. You remind him of a frightened hedgehog, prickly spines bristled and body curled in to protect yourself. “I just wanna talk.”

“Go away, please,” the imposter quietly pleads. “Just pretend you never saw me! I swear I didn’t even know how I got here…”

Trey swallows hard. 

“Just come quietly. Please.” He is the one begging now. “It’ll be easier for all of us.”

“For who?” The imposter barks a sharp laugh. Trey doesn't miss the way they wince in pain from their wounds. “For me? Or for you?”

He doesn’t have an answer. The sound of running footsteps has him turning, and when he looks back, you’re already gone. The only traces that you were there at all were faint splotches of red blood and crushed grass.

Trey wonders if this, too, was meant to be fate.

—

Trey’s been lovingly dubbed as someone reliable. Some consider him to be an older brother figure due to his nagging and supportive care. It's ingrained in him at this point from the years he’s spent playing babysitter. Trey knows the students around him are not his younger siblings who need constant watching (although their actions say otherwise).

But he worries.

Just a bit. Trey knows better than anyone that you can take care of yourself just fine. He's seen how you carry yourself within those hedges. 

It's just that, he doesn't know if you're okay right now. How could he know? You've been silent even in the face of Riddle's unceasing letters. So of course he's just a bit unsure if you're actually okay, or if you don't trust them enough to say so.

Trey finds himself more frustrated with the ban they're under. Not because of the inability to see you, although that is part of it. No, it's because Riddle has managed to skirt around that rule to desperately grab onto you, and that was just enough to wear you down. 

He thinks if he was bold enough, he could've tried.

As if it wasn't enough, even Ace and Deuce find their own way to get to you, snatching up the chance to deliver the monthly tea party invitation. It takes everything in Trey to clench his teeth and let go—even when Cater ruins his plans. He can't get mad here because it won't get him any closer to you. He has to be the bigger person.

If there is one thing Trey knows about Cater, it's that he absolutely hates getting sweaty or dirty. If Cater wasn’t trying to get out of running those P.E laps, he would absolutely be shirking any extra work assigned. So he's more than suspicious when Cater bounces up to him with a grin saying he could help cover Trey's science club duty of watering plants. 

Trey likes to think he can tell when Cater’s lying. His close friend's happy go lucky demeanor often throws off others, but he’s been with him long enough to pick out his subtle tells. His eyebrow twitches when he’s particularly anxious and the corner of his mouth tends to perk up if he’s feeling particularly daring or desperate. Trey figures this must be something that even he can’t trust Trey with, if he’s going out of his way to take on extra work.

So Trey considers this repayment for letting him take his violets. He watches as Cater dashes off in labwear, waiting for a minute, before following after him. His duty was in the tropical zone of the botanical garden, so he has no worries even if he does lose him. 

He nearly does a double take when he sees you walking in the courtyard hallways by yourself. And before Trey could rethink his actions, he follows behind you, eyes not leaving your form for a minute. 

You look like you haven't slept well. There's dark circles under your eyes. He hopes you're brushing your teeth. There’s no signs of bandages or wounds that he remembers you in, which he supposes is one relief. Even if he so desperately wishes to cook you a proper meal—you look like you could fall over at any minute.

The realization your path is leading to the botanical garden comes just as Trey catches sight of the glass dome. He wants to rush in after you, but he stops himself just as the door swings close behind your form.

Cater is in there. It all makes sense now. Trey has to give it to him—Cater really does know every little happening in the school. But Trey knows him well too—and if he had to guess, even if Cater manages to talk to you, it won’t end pretty. His inability to be genuine will definitely only set you on edge and less likely to reciprocate. 

The waiting game he plays is nothing compared to the silence he had to endure before. Trey doesn’t have to look to know that you’re the one slamming open the doors to the botanical gardens, labwear dirtied and face twisted in a frustrated anger. He watches as you enter Professor Crewel’s office again and after some time, pop back out in completely different clothes. 

His chest tightens in longing as he continues to follow after (more from an instinctual drive now, rather than deliberate), trying to keep you in sight within the stone pillars. He wants to call out after you so badly and ask you what’s the matter, if you need help with anything. If there was anything he could do to make you forgive him for watching you bleed out on dewy grass. The sun is about to set, warm golden rays flickering between pillars and casting long shadows. Trey’s so enamored with following after you that he flinches back when the sun directly shines into his eyes, blinding him momentarily. 

He barely manages to get a hold of himself. By the time his eyes blink away the blurry blots, he realizes you’re looking back at him. His breath stops. Your eyes are wide and frightened as they are that day, and his heart drops to his stomach. Both of you don’t move, merely staring at each other. 

You finally break the connection, turning around and quickly walking away. Trey gasps, remembering to breathe, lungs screaming for air. 

What was that?

x. Entombment

It's a nice sunny afternoon in the Heartslabyul domain. There weren't any track club activities nor dreaded remedial lessons. If anything, this free time would have been perfect for a nap. He hadn’t been up to any large shenanigans like this since the whole fiasco of [First] and Yuu. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” 

Ace scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You got a better one, loosey Deucy? If we don’t do this now, then all of us are stuck until Housewarden grows a pair of balls.” 

Deuce Spade bites his lips. “I just think there might be a better way around this.”

“Yeah? And the sky is blue. Keep going, we don't have much time." Ace cranes his neck to the side of the bush, eyes warily looking out to make sure the coast is clear. 

Deuce grumbles but continues plucking, some roses already tucked within his arms. They chose a bush the furthest away from the dorm, in a hidden corner where no arched windows could overlook them. It was necessary, because today was Wednesday, and the Housewarden would have their heads for plucking his beloved roses out of all the flora.

His fingers are bleeding already, finger pads torn from repetitive tugging on the thorns and stems. They couldn’t afford taking any of the gardening tools, lest they be questioned for what they were doing with them. Still, even he had his limits.  

“Why is it that you aren’t helping at all?” Deuce snipes at Ace, who scowls back. 

“You want to be caught by someone, genius?” Ace replies snarkily. “Someone has to keep look out.”

“Doesn’t explain why I have to do all the work.” 

Ace rolls his eyes, deigning not to bother engaging in another futile argument that would lead to nowhere. Deuce is about to cut off a particularly stubborn rose when Ace pipes up again.

“...Did they ever respond to your texts?” Deuce only deflates in response. Ace’s mouth slants crookedly in an annoyed grimace. The two of them know full well what the answer to that was.

“Damn that cat…” Ace mutters bitterly under his breath. Deuce doesn’t say anything. He too, is finding it hard to not feel petty towards Grim right now. Weren’t they friends? He could’ve afforded to help them out somehow. But it’s no use. Their texts went unanswered. Headmaster had banned them from stepping foot onto Ramshackle grounds. It’s like you had closed everything off from them.

It’s why he doesn’t protest this plan, as reckless as it is. He’s not any better than Ace—he needs to see you. He and Ace were your closest friends, your first friends! He loved you. That had to mean something. If it didn’t, then…

“I think this is enough.” Deuce adjusts the messy bouquet in his hands, attempting to hold them without crushing the delicate petals. Ace looks over and nods in approval. He takes out crimson ribbons and a silk handkerchief and begins tying it around the stems in a very artful way that has Deuce’s eyebrows raising.

“Where did you get that?” Ace smirks in response at the interrogative question.

“Don’t worry about it.” Ace snatches the bouquet from his hands and slips in an envelope with the housewarden’s seal. Deuce silences the questions on the tip of his tongue. For whatever Ace has planned, he’s rather not know anything more troublesome than necesscary. 

What he failed to account for was getting caught. Housewarden Riddle was beyond furious for what they did. It was only by Trey and Cater's gentle reminders that what they did was for all of them, that he only calmed down.

Deuce supposes three days with the collar is better than a week. Even if it is a heavy thing that weighs on his very soul.

He only hopes that you don't notice the thorns they forgot to trim.

—

It’s a given that although Trey is the right hand of Heartslabyul, Cater is considered the left hand of Housewarden Riddle. It’s been that way since Deuce himself enrolled in NRC, and possibly even further back. He hadn’t understood it quite then, but after some time, he realized something that he should’ve realized a long time ago. 

To never get on Cater’s bad side.

There are events where the five of them gather outside of Yuu’s influence. Administrative meetings, monthly tea parties, and the occasional casual hang out. When you’re aware of how much of your life is affected from being not like the others, it’s common to side with those who are like you. 

Cater had called the meeting this time. It was a bit out of the blue, at least for him and Ace. It’s only when they’re all gathered around the playing table in the lounge, not another soul in sight, when Deuce realizes Cater has that gleam in his eye. One that screams that he got a viral lead on a hot topic. His upperclassman must have been investigating.

"Remember how mirrors are considered to be portals?"

Deuce's neck prickles.

"Your point, Cater?" Their housewarden is impatient, not aware of what the question poses. His arms are crossed with his eyebrows furrowed in a frustrated glare. Deuce realizes that he must have been the one to send out Cater.

"There's a mirror in the prefect's bedroom." Deuce blurts out, and Riddle’s steely eyes snap over in surprise. Cater nods in affirmation.

"Yeah. I only managed a glimpse, but Yuu covered their mirror." Cater says. 

“Hold on, you went into the prefect’s bedroom? Scratch that, to Ramshackle?” Ace asks. “Why are we just getting this now?”

“Because I just came back Acey,” Cater flicks his forehead, causing Ace to exclaim in pain. Trey smiles faintly at the action. “Also Riddle told me to keep it confidential—you two would have ran straight out if we had told you.” 

Deuce sheepishly rubs his neck at Cater’s pointed sentence. Riddle rubs his chin in thoughtfulness, eyebrows still furrowed. 

“But there isn’t anything magical about that mirror, is there?” Riddle asks, skepticism coating his tone. “The puppet could have simply covered that mirror out of an odd preference.”

“Acey, didn’t you mention that Yuu always mentioned seeing things in that mirror?” Cater responds, deflecting the question upon his underclassmen. Ace straightens as he and Deuce both exchange a glance.

“Yeah…something about a mouse in their mirror,” Ace answers slowly, face scrunched in an effort to recall memories. “I always thought it was just crazy dreams but…”

“Yuu was always insisting about it,” Deuce chimes in. “Said the mouse speaks to them and everything—that there was another world it was in.”

Trey and Cater share a furtive glance together before looking at Riddle. Their housewarden seems to be taking in the new information, closing his eyes in thought. For a while, no one dares to speak. 

“What do you think, Riddle?” Trey finally breaks the heavy silence, and Deuce breathlessly releases a sigh. Leave it to Trey to speak for all of them.

“If the mirror in the bedroom is magical, then that changes things.” Riddle pronounces with conviction. “If that mirror potentially holds a dimension, then that would be the perfect place to trap someone.”

“Cater.” The orange head straightens to attention at the stern command. “Find a way to get the puppet out of the dorm for a while. We’ll need to look into this ourselves.”

Cater smirks and a chill runs down Deuce’s spine. While Cater still has an easy going look, his jade green eyes have darkened with a sadistic gleam. 

“Roger that, housewarden!” His upperclassman chirps, already taking out his phone. 

Riddle is already barking orders that each of them are to take up within this mission of theirs. But Deuce nearly misses his task, eyes stuck on Cater’s face as he scrolls his phone.

He catches a glimpse of a photo before it’s quickly clicked away. Deuce snaps back to Riddle just in time for Cater to shoot him a wary glare, checking to make sure no one else was looking. 

Deuce is very glad he is working together with Cater.

[fuqnia]

Shattered Ice

eric cartman x reader insert

(❁´◡`❁) | [A/N] hii, this is my eighth oneshot that's apart of my ficmas! this is also on ao3. ❤️❄️🎄

(❁´◡`❁) | Warning(s) : cartman being cartman lol

(❁´◡`❁) | Synopsis : Cartman’s clumsy attempts at ice skating turn into a rare, vulnerable moment that leads to an unexpected kiss with you.

The air is crisp, the snow crunching under your boots as you approach South Park’s holiday ice rink. Bright string lights hang from poles, casting a warm glow over the bustling scene. Cheerful music hums through speakers, blending with the chatter and laughter of families and couples gliding across the ice.

Well, most of them glide.

“This is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Cartman grumbles, lagging behind you. His breath puffs out in exaggerated huffs as he drags his feet. “Ice skating? Seriously? Who the hell even does that? Chicks and Canadians, that’s who.”

You glance back, biting back a grin. “Oh, come on. Look at all the happy people! It’s festive!”

Cartman snorts, jamming his hands into his jacket pockets. “Yeah, they’re probably all freezing their asses off and pretending they’re not. And I’m not about to go out there and bust my balls just so you can pretend we’re in some shitty Hallmark movie.”

“Stop being so dramatic,” you say, stepping aside as a group of kids barrels past, laughing.

“I’m not being dramatic. I’m being realistic!” Cartman snaps, glaring at the rink as it comes into view. He gestures wildly at the skaters. “Look at them! Slipping around like a bunch of dumbasses. You know who doesn’t slip and fall like that? Me. Because I stay off the goddamn ice.”

Despite all his grumbling, Cartman trudges behind you to the rental booth, muttering curses under his breath the entire way.

“Size eight,” he barks at the attendant, slapping a crumpled bill on the counter.

The attendant hands him a pair of beat-up rental skates, and Cartman stares at them like they’ve personally offended him. “What the hell is this? Are these made of cardboard? They’re probably gonna fall apart the second I step on the ice. Goddamn rink’s probably run by Jews trying to ruin my life.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing your skates and sitting on a nearby bench to lace them up. “Right. I’m sure they built this entire rink just to mess with you, Eric.”

“Don’t roll your eyes at me!” he snaps, flopping down on the bench beside you. He holds up the skates with disdain. “I’m serious! These are probably a conspiracy to break my ankles so I can’t run away when they raise taxes or some shit.”

“You don’t even pay taxes,” you point out, hiding your smile as you tighten your laces.

Cartman huffs dramatically and starts yanking at his own laces. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter. This whole thing is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“You’re just scared you’ll fall on your ass,” you tease, standing up and stretching.

He scoffs, crossing his arms like a petulant child. “Me? Scared? Please. I’m just saying it’s stupid, that’s all. I don’t need to prove anything to you or anyone else.”

“Right,” you say, smirking. “Well, if you’re done stalling, let’s hit the ice.”

Cartman mutters something under his breath as he finally stands, wobbling precariously on the skates. He glares at you as if daring you to laugh. “If I die out there, I’m haunting your ass.”

You chuckle, skating ahead a few steps before turning back to watch him shuffle toward the rink’s entrance. The contrast between his usual swagger and his unsteady, wobbly gait is enough to make you stifle a laugh.

“Come on, Eric. You’ve survived worse,” you tease, motioning for him to follow.

As he reaches the edge of the rink, Cartman hesitates, eyeing the ice with visible suspicion. “This is a setup,” he says flatly. “The ice is waiting to take me out. I can feel it.”

“It’s ice, not quicksand,” you reply, shaking your head. “Just step on and see what happens.”

He gives you a glare sharp enough to cut glass but reluctantly takes a step forward. The moment his skates touch the ice, his feet slide out from under him, and he flails like a cartoon character.

“Oh my god, the ice is trying to kill me!” he yelps, grabbing the railing in a desperate bid to stay upright. His over-the-top reaction draws chuckles from a nearby couple, and you can’t help laughing yourself.

“Relax! You’re fine!” you say, skating back toward him.

“Fine? I’m holding on for dear life, [Y/N]!” Cartman snaps, still clinging to the railing. “You dragged me here to die, didn’t you?”

Cartman clutches the railing with both hands, his knuckles turning white as his legs wobble uncontrollably beneath him. “This is bullshit!” he barks, glaring at you like the entire ice rink is your fault. “Who thought ice skating was a good idea? It’s just slipping and falling with extra steps!”

You skate backward a few feet, watching him with an amused grin. “Come on, Eric, it’s not that bad. Just let go of the railing and give it a try.”

He glares at you, his lips pulling into a thin line. “Oh, yeah? You want me to let go? Fine!”

With dramatic flair, he releases the railing and immediately stumbles forward, his arms flailing like windmills. For a moment, it looks like he might stay upright, but the next second, his legs slide out from under him, and he lands on his back with a loud thud .

“Son of a bitch!” he yells, sprawled on the ice. Nearby skaters glance over, their chuckles adding to the chorus of Cartman’s misery.

You skate closer, biting your lip to keep from laughing outright. “You okay down there?”

“No, I’m not okay!” he snaps, attempting to sit up. “The ice is defective. This whole rink is a scam! You dragged me here to get murdered by frozen water!”

“You’re so dramatic,” you say, shaking your head. “Just get up and try again.”

Cartman glares up at you, his face red with frustration. “Try again? Are you high? I just risked my life, and you want me to do it again ?”

“Yes, because you’re not going to get better sitting there whining,” you reply, folding your arms.

He mutters a string of curses under his breath, his breath puffing out in angry little clouds as he attempts to push himself up. His skates slide uselessly beneath him, and before long, he’s flat on his back again, glaring up at the sky like it personally wronged him.

“Maybe I wasn’t built for this crap,” he grumbles, his tone quieter now. “Fat people aren’t meant to glide like penguins.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, and his glare sharpens as he turns to you. “Stop laughing! My ass is on the line here!”

“Sorry, sorry,” you say, holding up your hands in mock surrender. You skate closer and crouch down, offering him your hand. “Come on, Eric. I’ll help you up.”

He eyes your hand suspiciously, his pride clearly warring with his desire to stop lying on the ice. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he reaches out and grabs it.

“Don’t drop me, [Y/N],” he warns, his voice full of mock menace as you help him to his feet. “If I fall again, I’m taking you down with me.”

“Noted,” you reply dryly, bracing him as he wobbles back onto his skates. “Now, are you ready to actually try skating, or should I bring you a sled?”

He huffs, brushing imaginary snow off his jacket. “Let’s just get this over with. And for the record, if I break my neck, I’m suing your ass.”

With your hand guiding him, Cartman takes hesitant, awkward steps forward. His grip on your hand is tight—borderline painful—but he doesn’t let go, even as his feet wobble and slide on the ice.

“You’re not falling,” you say, skating backward to match his uneven pace. “That’s progress.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Cartman mutters, his eyes glued to the ice like it might betray him at any moment. “This is all part of the ice’s plan. It’s waiting for me to let my guard down.”

You stifle a laugh, shaking your head. “The ice isn’t plotting against you, Eric. You’re just paranoid.”

He gives you a side-eye glare but doesn’t stop moving. “Paranoia keeps me alive, [Y/N]. That, and not trusting people with dumb ideas like ‘Let’s go ice skating.’”

“You’re skating right now,” you point out, smirking.

“Because you tricked me into it,” he shoots back, though there’s no real venom in his tone.

You squeeze his hand gently, pulling him slightly forward to keep him steady. “I didn’t trick you. I just knew you’d be too stubborn to admit you wanted to try it.”

Cartman snorts but doesn’t argue. He stumbles a little, gripping your hand tighter, but you guide him smoothly across the ice.

“Okay, not completely awful,” he mutters begrudgingly after a few minutes.

“See? Told you it’s not so bad,” you say, grinning.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all smug about it.”

You skate together in a slow, wobbly rhythm, weaving carefully around the other skaters. His grumbling grows quieter as his movements become a little steadier, though he doesn’t loosen his grip on your hand.

After a while, you guide him toward the middle of the rink, away from the busier edges. The ice here feels smoother, the space quieter. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, the faint hum of music and laughter fading into the background.

Cartman stops, his legs still shaky, and huffs out a breath. “This is stupid,” he mutters, though there’s no real heat in his words.

“Admit it,” you say, smiling. “You’re kind of having fun.”

He glares at you, his expression torn between annoyance and something softer. “If by ‘fun,’ you mean sweating my ass off and trying not to die, then sure, I’m having a blast.”

You laugh, the sound warm and light, and he glances at you, his brow furrowing slightly.

“You’re lucky, you know,” he mutters after a moment, his voice quieter now. “I don’t trust anyone else to see me make an ass of myself like this.”

The confession catches you off guard, and you blink at him, surprised. “Thanks... I think?”

He shrugs, looking away quickly. “Don’t make it weird.”

You smile, something fond tugging at your chest. “It’s not weird. I’m glad you trust me.”

He pauses, his expression flickering with something unreadable. For once, he doesn’t have a quick comeback. His grip on your hand loosens slightly, but he doesn’t let go.

“You’re staring,” he grumbles, breaking the silence.

“Maybe I like looking at you,” you reply, your tone light and teasing.

His mouth opens, probably to deliver some sarcastic retort, but the words don’t come. Instead, he leans forward suddenly, the movement awkward but purposeful.

His lips brush against yours, hesitant at first, like he’s testing the waters. For a moment, you’re too stunned to react. Then his hand tightens on yours, anchoring you in place as he tilts his head slightly, pressing in with a clumsy kind of determination.

The kiss is warm, softer than you’d ever expect from Cartman. His usual bravado melts away, replaced by an uncharacteristic nervousness that makes your heart stutter. You can feel the cold air biting at your cheeks, the faint scent of pine and snow mingling with the moment, but none of it matters as he lingers just a second longer than you’d expect.

When he finally pulls back, his face is flushed—though whether it’s from the cold or something else, you can’t tell. His gaze darts away quickly, and he mutters under his breath, “You better not tell anyone about this.”

Your lips twitch into a smile. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Good,” he says, his voice quieter than usual. His hand, however, stays in yours, his grip still firm as if grounding himself.

“You’re not as bad at skating as you think, you know,” you say softly, breaking the silence.

He rolls his eyes, his usual bravado slipping back into place. “Don’t push it, [Y/N].”

You laugh, the sound light and easy as you squeeze his hand. “Come on, let’s keep skating.”

Cartman grumbles under his breath as you tug him gently forward, your skates gliding easily over the smooth ice. His hand remains firmly in yours, his grip tight and slightly clammy, but he doesn’t seem eager to let go.

The two of you skate quietly for a little longer, the weight of the kiss still lingering between you. Cartman doesn’t say much—his usual stream of sarcastic comments reduced to occasional muttering under his breath. His grip on your hand hasn’t loosened, but there’s something different about it now—something almost... intentional.

When you reach the edge of the rink, he clears his throat and lets go, wobbling as he steps off the ice and immediately collapses onto the nearest bench. “Alright, that’s enough of this crap. I’m done. Over it. Let’s go,” he announces, yanking at the laces of his skates like they personally wronged him.

You sit beside him, a smile still playing at the corners of your lips. “You survived the rink, Eric. Barely, but you did.”

“Survived?” he snaps, holding up one of his skates for emphasis. “These things are medieval torture devices. My feet are practically broken.”

You chuckle, taking off your own skates as he continues to grumble. Once your boots are back on, you glance at him, catching the faint flush still on his cheeks. Whether it’s from the cold or the kiss, you can’t tell—and you’re not sure you want to ask.

“Ready to go?” you ask, standing and brushing snow off your coat.

Cartman huffs, shoving his feet into his boots. “Finally. My ass is freezing, and if I stay out here any longer, I’m gonna end up like those dumbass kids in The Donner Party .”

The two of you head out of the rink, the holiday lights and cheerful music fading behind you as you step onto the quiet, snowy streets. For a while, neither of you speaks. The snow crunches underfoot, and the cold air bites at your nose, but the silence feels... comfortable.

Finally, Cartman clears his throat, kicking at a chunk of snow. “So, you’re not, like... overthinking that, are you?”

You glance at him, suppressing a smile. “Overthinking what?”

He shoots you a glare. “You know.”

You raise an eyebrow but decide to let him off the hook. “Eric, relax. I’m not ‘overthinking’ anything.”

“Good,” he mutters, his face relaxing slightly. After a beat, he adds, “Because if you were, that’d be dumb.”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, your tone light as you glance over at him.

He shoves his hands deeper into his jacket pockets, his scowl fading into something softer. “This whole night was dumb,” he says, but his voice doesn’t carry the usual bite.

“Maybe,” you say, smiling gently. “But I thought it was nice.”

Cartman stops in his tracks. You turn to look at him, confused, and before you can say anything else, he holds out his hand.

“What?” you ask softly.

“Don’t make it weird,” he mutters, his eyes fixed on the ground. “Just... come on. Before you slip on the ice or something dumb like that.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of you, but you take his hand without hesitation. His grip is firm, and despite the way he huffs and mutters under his breath, he doesn’t let go as the two of you continue walking.

The snow falls softly around you, blanketing the streets in a quiet calm. And while Cartman would never admit it out loud, the warmth of his hand in yours says more than words ever could.

[radfemsiren]

Hey. So I'm here caught in the crossfire.

I'm 16F studying for an exam and I really like a teacher who isn't physically attractive but I like his humor and wit.

I am a febfem and a radfem seperatist and don't plan on dating men (gone 4B). But I have got this weird fantasy of hooking up with and being in a relatioship (ofc after I turn 18).

I have been obsessed with this guy. I literally can't focus on my exams. What I even fantasise is having an affair with him (he's married with 2 kids).

I think all men are bad and not worth it but I don't know why I keep fantasising about him all day.

I even put him on a pedestal (i don't usually put men on pedestal).

Please help me with this

PS : If you have seen this anon pop on other radfem accounts please just know I quickly want answers. I'm not spam.

lol girl, first of all, it’s very normal for a teenager to have a crush on her teacher. Don’t feel ashamed of your feelings and just know it’s a typical part of growing up. I had a crush on some teachers too. It’s very common because they are the first adults we interact with that are not our family. And kinda similar to how patients often develop crushes on therapists, we also feel encouraged from the guidance they give us, and develop romantic feelings. You’re also going through crazy hormonal changes rn, and every feeling is heightened to the max.

You will outgrow it! Don’t act on anything and just let time pass, you’ll see. Ik you’re reading that and thinking “I absolutely will not outgrow it, she doesn’t understand how deeply in love I feel..” but trust me, I do! I’ve been there. Now that I’m in my early twenties, I look back on my crushes and romances and how dramatic and crazy I felt as a teenager… it’s literally all just the hormones and puberty lol. Trust me, you’re gonna look back and laugh, and think “girl, it was never that serious 🤣”

And btw I don’t say this to try to condescend, I’m just talking to the younger version of myself! I been through it all, trust me! My advice is to keep a journal at this time and write down all your feelings. Your future self is gonna laugh so hard and thank you, and your present self is gonna feel better expressing her emotions and articulating her thoughts. Do it! I wish I journaled my feelings more because the few entries I did do… I’m like, girl, the puberty was goin crazy at this time 😅

[skateordiebitch]

Enemies to lovers!Dom and him being in secretly in love with you because I’m a sucker for clichés lol💕

CABIN FEVER || D.F x reader

summary: dominic fike is your childhood best friend turned enemy. every conversation is a recipe for disaster... but, what happens when you guys have to share a room in a cabin for a weekend?

ah yes the enemies to lovers clichè...... love her dearly!!! dominic gives that vibe heavy for some reason LMAO. it was a little too easy to write this. anyways, per usual requests are open and enjoy!

Dominic and you had a rhythm to your rivalry — if you could call it that. It was the kind of relationship where you’d sooner pretend to be total strangers than acknowledge the magnetic, impossible-to-ignore pull between you.

The friends you shared, however, were not blind to this ongoing feud; they thrived on it, watching with half-amused, half-exasperated smiles every time you and Dominic ended up in the same room.

There was a long list of reasons why you couldn’t stand him. 

The ego was a big part, for one. He knew he was a big deal and didn’t care who knew it, throwing around his charm like it was a game, getting whatever he wanted without so much as lifting a finger. 

And the worst part? 

Everyone else seemed to eat it up.

Except you.

You found the arrogance insufferable. It didn’t help that he’d never hesitated to pick you apart, finding flaws and quirks he could tease, always seeming to know exactly how to get under your skin. 

If you made a comment about his music career, he’d fire back with a smirk, implying that you could only dream of being so successful.

The mutual friends between you knew better than to let you two share a ride to group outings. 

There was one infamous night, when you’d been forced to share an Uber home after a party. 

The whole drive was a back-and-forth argument that could have been the script for a rom-com — only there was nothing “romantic” about the way you hurled insults and Dominic rolled his eyes, making jabs about how you were “almost as stubborn as you were clueless.” 

It had gotten so heated that the Uber driver had kicked you both out halfway home.

And that became the norm. 

Snide remarks, bickering, and a constant battle of who could out-wit the other. It was never kind, never playful. If anything, it felt like every interaction was just barely avoiding a complete explosion.

Your ongoing rivalry with Dominic had become such a given that no one even tried to keep you two apart anymore. 

It was easier to just let you both simmer, each party assuming you’d work out your differences — or at least tolerate each other. 

But when your mutual friend, Kevin, decided to celebrate his birthday with a weekend trip to the mountains, the room assignments threw a wrench in everyone’s plans.

And there was no doubt that it wasn’t just a ‘coincidence.’

You practically laughed when he said, “You’re with Dominic.” Until you realized he was serious.

“No way,” you protested. “Oh, absolutely not. There’s no way.”

He just raised an eyebrow. “I’m not splitting you guys up at this point. You guys need to learn how to get along.”

“We aren’t five, Kev,” you say in protest, “I just don’t wanna be with… him.”

All Kevin did was laugh in your face, “Tell yourself, that. Maybe some forced time together will make you both act like normal human beings.”

You knew better than to argue when Kevin had that look on his face. That look that said ‘room with him, or don’t come at all.’

So, with no choice but to accept the arrangement, you found yourself sleeping in the same room with the one person you’d much rather avoid.

The cabin itself was beautiful, set against a backdrop of pine trees and snowy mountains. It was the sort of place meant for cozying up, but that idea made you laugh in spite of yourself as you and Dominic entered the small, shared room.

He tossed his bag onto the bed with a dramatic sigh, shooting you a glare. “This has got to be a fucking joke.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” you muttered, already strategizing how you’d manage to avoid him for the next three days.

Unfortunately, there was no escape.

The room was too small, and the cabin was filled with your friends, all of whom seemed to think your bickering was just a “cute quirk.”

You threw your bag on the bed closest to the window, hoping to claim the best spot. Dominic followed suit, watching you like you’d just challenged him to a duel.

“Are you seriously taking the bed by the window?” he scoffed, throwing his own bag onto the other bed. “Typical.”

“Typical?” you echoed, raising a brow. “Oh, that’s rich coming from the guy who has to turn everything into a competition.”

He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the bed frame. “Right, because this is all about me. You’re the one who walked in here like it’s some sort of battleground. But sure, pull the victim card if it makes you feel better.”

“Victim?!” You could practically feel your blood pressure spike. “God, Dominic. You are actually unbelievable!”

“Glad to see I’m still under your skin,” he said with that infuriating smirk, his tone dripping with smugness. He leaned a little closer, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I’ll try not to keep you up too much tonight. You know, since you seem so... affected by my presence.”

You laughed, mirthless. “You really think that highly of yourself, huh? I can’t wait to be so far on the other side of the room I forget you’re even here.”

“Oh, please,” he shot back, feigning hurt. “You’d be bored to death without me around. Admit it. You’re secretly thrilled to have me as your little roommate.”

“In your dreams, Dominic.”

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Funny, because I’m betting I’ll be in yours tonight.”

The weekend had barely started, and you already felt on edge, like you were navigating a minefield. 

“Whatever,” You say, unpacking your things.

“Just saying, you know the clichè, right?” Dominic asks, plopping down on his bed.

You shake your head, “What are you even talking about?”

“The clichè— Where the two enemies forced to be together? By the end of it, they’re in love.”

You almost burst out laughing, “You’re delusional, Dom.”

“Everyone knows that’s how this works!”

You nodded your head, “Yeah, it works in books and movies. Not real life, which you seem to not live in, anyways.”

Dominic seemed determined to make this the most unbearable three days of your life, and the worst part was, you couldn’t shake the thrill of it.

—

The first night passed in silence, both of you avoiding eye contact as you got ready for bed. 

“Sweet dreams, Y/N. Try not to wake up flustered.”

“Shut up.”

The room was so small that every little movement was noticed, every breath too loud. 

You lay on your side, facing the wall, determined to ignore the fact that Dominic was just a few feet away. But in the silence, you could practically feel his presence, that maddening, familiar energy filling the room.

In the morning, things didn’t get any better. You were both tired, and it only took a sideways glance from him to set you off.

“Dominic,” you said, voice laced with warning as you passed him in the kitchen.

“What? I haven’t even said anything,” he replied, but his eyes gleamed with amusement.

“You don’t have to,” you shot back. “Your whole existence is enough to irritate me.”

“Good to know,” he replied, arching a brow, his voice low. “Seems like I’ve made an impact on you.”

The tension was getting thicker, and your friends couldn’t help but notice. They threw each other subtle, knowing looks as if they were all in on some inside joke.

—

By the second night, the snowstorm had hit hard, trapping everyone indoors with no signal and no escape. 

You’d never been the kind of person who got easily bored, but being trapped with Dominic had a way of testing your patience.

Somehow, you’d all ended up playing a game of “truth or dare” — though, with Dominic around, it became less of a game and more of an excuse for him to test your limits.

“Truth,” you said, hoping for a harmless question from one of your friends.

But Dominic jumped in, his smirk unmistakable. “What’s one thing you actually like about me?”

You stared at him, momentarily thrown. “No, I’m not answering anything from you.”

Dominic scoffed, “Oh, c’mon, Y/N! That’s not fair, you asked, I answered.”

“No.”

“Yes,” He smirks, “Don’t be like this.”

You rolled your eyes, “Dominic, that’s not even a real question.”

“Oh, yes it is,” he replied, his gaze fixed on you. “And I’m genuinely curious. One good thing, that’s all I ask.”

Your friends laughed, but Dominic’s expression was all challenge. He knew you’d never say anything remotely kind about him — and you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction.

After a moment of silence, you sighed, rolling your eyes. “Fine. I guess you’re… persistent.”

“Persistent?” he echoed, brow raised. “That’s it?”

“That’s all you’re getting,” you replied, shifting uncomfortably under his intense gaze.

The boy groaned, obviously irritated at your answer, “Persistent. Right. That’s just code for ‘annoying,’ isn’t it?”

“Not everything’s about you,” you replied, tone sharp, though the heat from his gaze was already crawling under your skin. “Maybe it’s a compliment. Who knows?”

He chuckled, a low, grating sound. “You? Compliment me? Hell would freeze over before that.”

“Oh, trust me,” you shot back, “I’m regretting saying anything already.”

The game went on, but the room was thick with tension, a charged undercurrent that was impossible to ignore. 

Every time Dominic looked your way, you felt it — like a daring challenge, a spark, something that neither of you were willing to acknowledge out loud.

The night dragged on with endless rounds of “truth or dare,” and each turn with Dominic somehow turned up the heat. 

He was relentless, always choosing you to ask his questions, each one more infuriating than the last.

“Truth or dare?” he asked for what felt like the hundredth time, his voice smooth as silk, his gaze locked onto yours.

“Truth,” you answered, wary of whatever he’d throw at you next.

“What’s the worst thing about me?” he asked, the corners of his mouth lifting just slightly.

You scoffed, pretending to think. “Where the hell do I start?”

His eyes glinted, a mix of amusement and something darker, something that made your pulse race. “Try me. Hurt my feelings. Make me cry.”

“I’m not gonna make you cry,” You say, watching your friends get really good at being a laugh track. 

“So there’s nothing bad about me then, huh? You seem to be avoiding this one.”

“You’re the most egotistical person I have ever met, you never take anything seriously, and you act like everyone’s here for your entertainment.” 

Dominic nods his head, “Yeah, sounds about right.” He smirks right at you, “You know me so well…”

Something in you fueled you to keep going. Like this was the weight of his presence being lifted from your shoulders—

“You literally make me nauseous every time you enter the room, because I know we’re just gonna fucking argue. And it’s funny, because at one point— I never wanted to be without you! In fact, I hated every second we were apart!”

The room went silent, as all of your guys’ friends looked around at each other.

You sigh, “Now, it’s impossible for me to even breathe the same air as you. There. Happy?”

For a moment, you thought perhaps that was too much. Too harsh. That it could genuinely upset him. 

But instead of being offended, he just grinned wider, leaning in closer. “You really think about me that much, huh? How romantic, Y/N, truly. I’m flattered!”

Your friends let out a collective “ooh,” but all you could focus on was Dominic’s gaze, so intense it was like the rest of the room had disappeared.

“Please,” you muttered, refusing to look away. “As if I’d waste time on that.”

“Waste time on me? Funny, you look pretty worked up for someone who doesn’t care,” he said, leaning back with a smug, self-satisfied look. “Or is this just some dramatic little act of yours?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Oh, I forgot, Mr. Ego here thinks he’s some great mystery worth unraveling.”

“Ouch. Here I was, thinking you’d have at least one nice thing to say about me. Or are you too proud to admit I might actually have some redeeming qualities?”

“Nice things?” You scoffed, narrowing your eyes at him. “Please, I don’t think ‘nice’ and ‘Dominic’ even belong in the same sentence.”

He chuckled, a low, dark laugh that seemed to echo in the space between you. “See, that’s what I like about you, Y/N. Always keeping it real. Just too bad it’s also what makes you insufferable.”

“Insufferable? That’s rich coming from your smug ass.” You shot back, leaning closer, feeling a mix of anger and something else, something you couldn’t quite name.

“Maybe so,” he replied, gaze darkening as he matched your stare. “But at least I’m honest about it… Can you say the same?”

Your friends let out another round of gasps and snickers, but neither of you broke eye contact. 

The air was charged, as if neither of you were willing to back down first. 

Then, he leaned in a fraction closer, his voice dropping so only you could hear.

“Careful, Y/N. Keep pushing like that, and who knows what you might find out.”

The challenge was there, thick and unspoken, and every nerve in your body seemed to hum with it. 

“Trust me, Dom, I don’t need to know anything more than what I already do. And I’m not pushing. I’m pulling away as fast as I can.”

“Oh, really?” His voice was almost a murmur now, but it was edged with something hot and dangerous. “Could’ve fooled me.”

With that, he shot you one last infuriating smirk, leaning back like he hadn’t just raised the stakes, leaving you feeling like the whole room had started spinning.

—

Later that night, after everyone had drifted off to bed, you found yourself in the kitchen, unable to sleep. The quiet felt like a relief — until you heard footsteps, and Dominic appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, leaning against the counter.

You shrugged, pouring yourself a glass of water. “Not with you in the same room.”

He chuckled, but there was an edge to it. “Funny, I was thinking the same thing. I’m sorry, was I making you nauseous?”

“No, I just— I don’t know. I just can’t sleep.”

“Was my ego taking up too much space?” He asked, and it was then you realized. He was bringing up the answers you gave in the stupid game. 

Was he actually upset? 

Did you actually say things to hurt him?

“Dominic, what are you saying right now?” 

For a moment, there was silence, a tension thick enough to cut. Then he surprised you by saying, “You know, that game got me thinking. You’re right, it wasn’t always like this between us.”

You frowned, caught off guard. “Yeah, I’m aware. What’s that supposed to mean?”

He looked down, his expression softening. “I don’t know. Back in high school, I actually thought… Well, I thought we could be something.”

You blinked, too stunned to respond immediately. He’d never been this honest, never even hinted at any real feelings. “What happened to that, then?”

He hesitated, looking out the window. “I don’t know. Things just changed. I was trying to figure myself out, the music was taking off… I guess I thought it’d be easier if I pushed you away.”

“That’s your excuse? Really, Dom?” you asked, anger bubbling up. “You just… gave up? And for what? To become this arrogant, self-absorbed version of yourself?”

“Maybe,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “But, maybe I just didn’t want to get hurt.”

“Did I actually hurt your feelings or something? What’s with you tonight?” You chuckled, wanting to believe that he wasn’t just doing all of this to make him forget about what could have been.

Dominic shrugged, “I mean, I definitely wasn’t expecting the answer you gave me. I don’t know, whatever,” He sighed, “Just forget it. Goodnight.”

He turned around to walk back to the room.

“Dominic—“ You start as he cut you off immediately, “You know what? Just sleep on the couch at this point, if it’s really that big of a deal to sleep in the same room as me.”

“Dom…” You said, with a tone that surprised you. A disappointed tone. Like you were upset… that Dominic seemed upset.

The small admission lingered in the kitchen, raw and vulnerable. And suddenly you realized, for the first time in years, you saw him differently — not as the arrogant musician who’d become a stranger, but as the boy you’d once known, the friend you’d once cared about.

—

The next morning, as everyone packed up their gear to go sledding, you found yourself walking beside Dominic, who seemed uncharacteristically quiet. 

The snowstorm had died down, leaving the trees dusted with powder, the air crisp and fresh.

The group had decided on a steep hill for sledding, which quickly proved to be a mistake. One by one, your friends wiped out in spectacular fashion, laughing as they tumbled down the hill.

When it was your turn, Dominic joined you, grabbing a sled and flashing you a grin. “Scared?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Of sledding? Not a chance.”

With a push, the two of you shot down the hill, the sled picking up speed as it zipped over bumps and divots. 

For a moment, you felt exhilarated, laughing as the cold wind whipped through your hair. But then the sled veered off course, heading straight for a small tree.

Without thinking, Dominic threw his arm around you, pulling you close as the sled came to a sudden halt. You landed in a heap in the snow, Dominic’s arms still around you, his face inches from yours.

For a moment, neither of you moved. 

The world seemed to go silent, the only sound your heavy breathing as you stared at each other. You felt your heart racing, but whether from the thrill of the sledding or the intensity of his gaze, you couldn’t say.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice barely a whisper.

You nodded, barely trusting yourself to speak. 

His face was so close, his eyes searching yours as if he were seeing you for the first time. And in that moment, something shifted — a spark, a connection you’d spent years ignoring.

But before you could make sense of it, he pulled back, clearing his throat as he helped you to your feet. “Guess I saved your life, huh?”

You scoffed, brushing snow off your coat. “Oh, please. Don’t flatter yourself.”

But as you walked back up the hill, your heart was still pounding, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that, for the first time in years, things between you and Dominic were starting to change.

—

That night, back at the cabin, the tension between you and Dominic was impossible to ignore. You could feel his gaze on you as you sat by the fire, laughing with your friends, but every time you looked his way, he seemed to look away.

Eventually, as the night wore on, you found yourself alone with him again, this time on the back deck, watching the snow fall in silence.

“Do you actually hate me that much?” he asked, his voice low, almost challenging.

You blinked, taken off guard. “Why does it matter, Dom? Didn’t we already talk about this?”

He shrugged, looking away. “Maybe I’m curious. Maybe I just can’t figure out why you’re the only one who doesn’t seem to think I’m worth the time.”

“That’s on you, Dom,” you replied, your voice sharper than you’d intended. “You’re the one who changed.”

“And you’re the one who never gave me a chance to explain,” he shot back, stepping closer.

You crossed your arms, feeling a strange ache at his words. “Explain what? That you pushed me away on purpose? Do you even know how selfish that is?”

He paused, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his face. “You never gave me a chance to explain why I pushed you away. Why I… why things are like this between us.”

You stayed silent, heart pounding, daring him to go on. The unspoken tension, years of bitterness and misunderstandings, hung thick between you.

“Look,” he finally said, his voice softening. “I didn’t know how to handle it, alright? I didn’t know how to… deal with you, with us. I thought if I pushed you away, maybe it’d be easier. But it wasn’t.”

“What does that even mean? Deal with what?” The words escaped before you could stop them, heavy with every feeling you’d tried so hard to bury.

He took a shaky breath, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless. “Deal with the fact… that I’ve been in love with you since I was seventeen.”

The confession hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you stunned, the silence between you loud and unbearable.

“Are you kidding me?” you whispered, fighting the sudden wave of anger and something else, something that felt too much like hope.

“No,” he replied, his voice steady, eyes never leaving yours. “I’m not kidding. And I’ve been an idiot about it. I thought… I thought if I kept my distance, I’d get over it. But it just made everything worse.”

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. The boy who’d tormented you, infuriated you, had somehow harbored feelings you’d never known.

His gaze flickered down, his jaw tense as he struggled to find the words. “I thought it would be easier to let you go,” he admitted, his voice low. “Back then, everything was changing, and I was… scared. I was getting all this attention from my music, people wanting things from me, expecting me to be someone I didn’t even understand. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn’t want you to get dragged into that.”

You stared at him, disbelieving. “So instead of letting me be there for you, you pushed me away?”

He nodded, looking away as if the sight of your hurt expression was too much to bear. “I thought I could handle it on my own. But all it did was make me miss you… more than I ever thought I would.”

A silence stretched between you, raw and heavy. 

He looked at you with a vulnerability you hadn’t seen in years, and for the first time, you saw the Dominic you used to know, the one you’d once cared about so deeply it hurt.

“Do you have any idea what that was like for me?” Your voice was barely a whisper. “One day, you’re there, the next, you’re gone. You were my best friend, Dom. My rock, my person,” You say, feeling yourself on the verge of tears, “You didn’t even give me a chance to understand that you weren’t there anymore. And now… you just expect me to forget that?”

His hand reached out, almost reflexively, to touch yours, and though you wanted to pull away, you couldn’t. 

“I don’t expect you to forget, Y/N. What I did, I can’t even forgive myself for it. I just… I want to try and make things right. I’m tired of pretending like I hate you.”

You looked down at his hand, fingers brushing against yours, and felt the anger slipping, replaced by something else. “But, you hurt me, Dom,” you admitted, voice barely holding steady. “You hurt me in a way I didn’t think you could.”

The air between you grew thick, heavy with words unsaid and emotions neither of you knew how to voice. 

He looked at you with an intensity that made your heart pound, and without thinking, you leaned into him, letting his warmth chase away the bitter chill of the night.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “I know that will never be enough, but I am. I never meant to hurt you. I just… didn’t know how to deal with it — with you.”

“Deal with what, Dom? You keep saying that,” you repeated again, your voice softer now, searching his eyes. “What was it about me that you had to ‘deal with,’ Dominic? That you liked me? I’m just… I’m so confused, right now.”

He hesitated, his hand squeezing yours as he took a shaky breath. “That I wanted you, so badly,” he said finally, voice raw.

“More than just a friend, more than anything I’d ever let myself admit. I was terrified of what it’d mean if I let you get too close, because I am not a good person, Y/N. I’m fucked up, rude, and selfish, and I feel like… I’ve always been that way. I’ve always been the person you think I am today. And you didn’t deserve someone like that, not even as a friend.”

“Dominic…” You said softly, “I never thought you were a bad person…”

“But, I was, Y/N! I still am,” He pleads, “Look at what I did to us. Look at how badly I fucked things up between us. This is the first time in years we’ve had an actual conversation…”

He sighed, his expression open and raw. "I’m not kidding. I’ve tried to push it down, ignore it, even tell myself that maybe it wasn’t real. But every time I look at you—every time I see you laugh, every time you look at me with that fire in your eyes, I know it’s still there."

You could hardly believe what you were hearing. 

The Dominic you’d come to know, with his arrogance, his endless teasing, the constant back-and-forth—it had all masked something so vulnerable, something so sincere, that it was hard to process.

"Why now, Dominic?" you managed to ask, your voice trembling despite yourself. "After all these years, all the arguments, all the things you’ve said, the way you’ve acted—why are you telling me this now?"

He looked away, his jaw tightening. "Because I can’t do it anymore. I can’t keep pretending like I hate you, like I don’t feel anything when we argue, like I don’t care. And now, I just—" He paused, his gaze meeting yours. "I want you to know the truth, even if you hate me for it."

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in, all the bitterness and hurt somehow transformed into something else. 

Something softer, something you’d long denied. 

You didn’t know how long you both stood there, the air charged with the unspoken things between you.

"Dominic," you said quietly, fighting to keep your voice steady. "Maybe… maybe we both need to let go of what’s in the past. Because honestly, I’m exhausted too."

He watched you, a hint of hope in his eyes. "Does that mean—are you saying you might actually forgive me?"

You took a deep breath, the warmth of the cabin lights casting a glow over the snow-covered ground. "I’m saying maybe it’s time we stop running in circles. I’m saying maybe… I don’t hate you as much as I let on."

For the first time in years, Dominic’s smile wasn’t a smirk or a tease. It was soft, genuine, and it made your heart race. 

He stepped closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "Then let’s see where this goes, without the walls, without the defenses. Just us. A fresh start.”

You looked up at him, something in you finally letting go. 

And as his hand brushed yours, it was like the years of tension, rivalry, and unspoken feelings melted away, leaving only the beginning of something real.

“Please,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m asking you to give me a chance. To let me show you that I can be better. That I can be the person you deserve.”

You wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the bitterness, but his words cracked something inside you. 

He looked at you like you were the only person in the world, and he always had. Even when you guys would argue, bicker, his eyes never showed anger. His eyes never lefts yours. 

And in that moment, you realized that despite everything, you still cared. 

You still wanted him, still wanted to believe that there was a part of him that hadn’t changed.

His confession hung in the air, and your heart skipped a beat, pounding with emotions you weren’t sure how to process. 

You could feel the weight of every missed opportunity, every moment you’d spent pushing each other away.

Before you could stop yourself, you closed the gap between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that held years of pent-up frustration, hurt, and longing. 

He responded instantly, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you close, deepening the kiss with an urgency that took your breath away.

For a moment, the world fell away, and all that mattered was the feel of him against you, the way his fingers tangled in your hair, the warmth of his mouth as it moved against yours, desperate and tender all at once. 

It was as if every argument, every insult, had been leading up to this, the intensity of it all crashing over you like a wave.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, his eyes were on you, filled with a vulnerability that made your heart ache. 

“I just… I didn’t realize how much I needed you,” he whispered, his forehead pressed against yours. “Until it was too late.”

You took a deep, steadying breath, feeling the weight of his words, the truth they carried. “Then maybe it doesn’t have to be too late,” you whispered back, fingers brushing against his cheek.

He looked at you, a small, tentative smile tugging at his lips. Without a word, he led you back inside, your fingers laced together as if he were afraid to let you go.

—

Back in the quiet of your shared room, he hesitated for a moment, as if unsure if you’d let him stay this close. But you tugged him closer, pulling him onto the bed beside you, feeling his warmth seep into you as you settled beside him.

Neither of you said anything, the silence filled with an unspoken understanding, a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in years. You rested your head against his shoulder.

“You still think the clichè only happens in books and movies?” Dominic asks, as you feel his hand slide around your waist, pulling you close.

You smile softly, “Shut up, idiot.”

“Mhm, you know that’s not true…” 

Without thinking, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was slow, hesitant, filled with years of unsaid words and buried feelings. His hand came up to cradle your face, his touch gentle.

It just felt so right.

When you pulled away, his eyes were soft, filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache. He pressed his forehead to yours, his thumb tracing slow circles along your jaw.

You lay back down beside him, your head resting on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. 

“Again, I’m not asking you to forgive me right now, or forget what happened,” he whispered. “But I’m asking you to give me a try.”

You nodded, a silent promise that you’d give him — give both of you — a chance to heal, to find your way back to each other. 

For now, that was enough.

[qprpbj]

kk but how do u think paul and darry fell out? i love thinking abt this. like keeping the madra shirt is vvvv atw10 keeping the scarf type of energy imo bc like did he ever actually wear it?

(this is all musical!outsiders btw i’m not sure how much of it really applies to book)

me and chandler have fr yapped about paul darry for hours everyday for like two weeks straight im so fr they are so serious to me. which is so bizarre bc i am not a big outsiders shipper but idk something abt their toxic ass homoeroticism just hits soooo bad

veering more canon i think their falling out would’ve been more just bc of college after graduating and status differences, i’m not so sure it’d have been something super dramatic — maybe just diff colleges & they stopped keeping in touch?? then ofc paul stays close with bob & the others meanwhile darry had to embrace being a greaser again (no matter if he wanted to or not) bc of his circumstances, they gradually become bigger menaces to the greasers over those couple years bc darry isn’t part of their group anymore to hold them back, then bob has his specific beef w the greasers cause of cherry and ponyboy, then the rumble and bam you’ve got the ridiculous tension they’ve got there

in my parasite ridden brain though (and fully not canon i am well aware)…… lol i love the idea of them both knowing there’s something there that’s like. unusual. like not how they feel abt any of the rest of their friends. then them having some big falling out at the end of senior year over it (bc of paul more aware of being queer than darry who can’t admit it which is notable bc it’s usually the socs so obsessed with labels and status vs the greasers) where paul doesn’t exactly confess but it’s obvious darry doesn’t (or can’t yet admit that he does) reciprocate and. then much of the same.

the madras shirt is so mf interesting. literally wdym “i remember it looked pretty good on you”. gay asses. idk if darry ever wore it again after falling out w paul though, probably just kept it tucked safe somewhere (toilet thing obv just said to rile paul up bc that shit (and whatever else of paul’s he inevitably has) is fs kept on LOCK somewhere deep in his closet (ironic)). also the atw10 reference made me laugh lol thank you

[jokerislandgirl32]

Zach Varmitech Photoset: Koala Balloon

Zach Varmitech’s eleventh appearance in Wild Kratts was in the episode Koala Balloon (Episode 22, Season 1).

JIG32 Comments (yeah, buckle up, I’m feral over this episode):

We only see Zach for a few minutes in this episode, and despite being sick he still managed to mess things up for the Kratt Bros and the creature world! And it is all because he wanted some eucalyptus tea to help him feel better. Which causes mixed emotions in me….

One, I do want him to feel better, but flying all the way to Australia just to get tea…I mean couldn’t he just have had it sent in the mail or something, lol. Does the man not know how to order items online or do drive up pickups? I mean, Zach…I literally looked it up….you can get it from Target or Walmart for 5 bucks…he can fly his jet, drive his car, or whatever to the store, and it be ready/brought out to him in less than 2 hours….

Two, Zach is sick…Zach is sick…Zach is sick 😉🥰😍, yess, I quite enjoy sick Zach, he is so whiny and needy, and I just wanna take care of him and make him feel better 😘!

Three, Zach is a typical man child when sick. He is so whiny, dramatic, and helpless. Even more so than usual…if he’s that poorly behaved with a cold, I’d hate to see him with something more serious like the flu or stomach bug. He’ll probably start writing his last will and testament if he comes down with one of those.

Four, the fact he throws poor, sweet Koala Balloon out with the balloons attached to the poor baby….okay, Zach…I love you, but that makes me angry. Don’t let me start wacking you with your tissues (I’m joking…).

All the posts for my Zach Episodes Screenshots Series can be found at #zach screenshots

P.S. I’ve been working on a Zach/Ziolet sick fic…I’m in the early stages, but the topic makes me feral!

[envcry]

herrencreme is so fun, all your art of him and clotted has been delightful! It does make me curious about what led to them breaking up? Was it just a growing apart/diverging paths kind of thing, or something more serious/dramatic?

Omg thank you so much for the kind words 😭

And yes, short answer: It was because of diverging paths! When they met they were really similar and looking for the same things. While they both were aware of each other's future hopes, they didn't think it would be so apart in magnitude and change until it actually happened.

And very long answer that touches on what I imagine Clotted was like in the past to provide more context. The long, and yet still work in progress, Herrenclotted Lore(tm) that is a disguise for Clotted character analysis:

What I find most interesting about Clotted is that he has a strong, genuine love for the Republic despite everything it caused him. His birth into House Scone, which the Republic deemed a shameful house, and his adoption into House Custard to be nothing more than a tool for Custard’s power and influence within the Republic. The entire Republic has their eyes on him as their youngest Consul ever. The Republic has had a tight grip on him from birth to now.

But somewhere along the way, he somehow made his decisions solely his own (even if he makes a lot of morally questionable decisions). Not Custard’s, not the Elders, his drive and ambition to serve the Republic is all his. In the rare moments we get to see his true intentions, it’s always for the betterment of the Republic and when it comes to challenging people higher than him (the Ancients and the Elders) he doesn’t have any issue with it. He makes the Elders uncomfortable with his decision on the Pearl Legion and he doesn’t even care. His autonomy is incredibly important to me and I think it’s so interesting the writers went this morally grey route instead of him completely disconnecting from the society that hurt him.

At some point though, I think he explored the possibility of disconnecting from it though which is where Herrencreme comes in. They met when Clotted was in a very transitional period of his life from under heavy monitoring and expectations as a child to young adult and now a young adult who has to figure out how to function outside of the eye of Custard in order to be self-sufficient as a candidate for Consul in the future. He still is under heavy expectations of course, but he’s more “free” in a literal sense aka he gets to go outside the house.

Headcanon timeline of events for reference: At 22, he finishes higher education and from 22-27 he’s serving as a Custard guard to gain the military experience required for Consul (which is usually 10 years but I’m cutting it in half because he’s supposed to be younger maybe the Republic’s required years are different), and from 27-30 he’s doing politician work and gets elected at 31. Espresso mentions that Clotted did go through his politician years very fast:

He’s 25 when he meets Herren so he’s a few years into his military years. Peak time to be contemplating whether or not this is what he wants with his life. The life that has been imposed on him ever since he was born and then escalated when he was adopted.

So from the strict upbring, he moves in the entirely opposite direction. Less time around the Great Houses and their circles, less being bound by expectations, less connection to the political sphere he was brought into. More freedom, more indulgence, more discovery about himself and what he wants. He’s basically just going through the “being in your 20s experience” LOL

Herren is so lively. He knows how to talk to people, he likes talking to people, and he likes experiencing things with people. His family’s business in event planning makes him good at all of these things and how to navigate people, especially wealthy people, with things as stressful as high-end events. Just a very people-oriented person and he loves extravagant experiences. He’s an optimist, a dreamer, and lover. He also likes blondes.

Clotted (in-present day) in fun because despite all his questionable traits and decisions, he is also charming and “nice”. He has good intentions, at least. The development of the “achieve your goals at all costs” is a different conversation but he is an incredibly pleasant person to talk to if it isn’t about business. 

So when a staff member from House Custard reaches out to the Herrencreme business to plan and execute a social event at Mansion Custard, he basically begs whoever is leading the effort to let him help on-site solely because he thinks the son of House Custard is attractive and having unrealistic hopes of getting to meet him. The only reason he actually gets to go is because his older brother is the one assigned to this job and he’s nervous about working for one of the Great Houses. He does not want his brother acting on his dreamy delusions. He does not listen because the amount of times his attempts have gone well outweighs his failures. And I see why because he does eventually date Clotted so. maybe he’s onto something.

Clotted meets someone who is kind to him, does something as bold as flirt with the son of House Custard, knows how to enjoy things and pushes him to do the same, and is not part of any of his political spheres of people. Herren, shooter of shots Number One, learns the son of House Custard is even more charming in person and in-private, actually very normal when he needs to be, and is very receptive to his outgoing nature. He wants nothing more than to sweep Clotted off his feet and treat him well. He also likes stronger personalities because of how he needs to be reeled in from the clouds sometimes and he’s a bit less confrontational. Clotted likes making decisions and is in the transitional period of his life where he’s willing to take harder stances because of him trying to break away from everyone else controlling his life. They’re very much attracted to each other.

Something something they date for like 2-3 years, I’m still working out the timeline of events but FAST FORWARD to the rift that I can only describe as Herren is so normal. and Clotted is not. He’s being morally questionable and disrespecting the Ancients in Odyssey and nearly getting stabbed and yet he still doesn’t care because he thinks he’s justified in insulting their kingdoms while Herren wants to settle down and idk maybe brush their teeth together sometimes like they are MAGNITUDES apart in wants and needs. Herren knew Clotted was ambitious, and he supported his dreams of becoming the youngest Consul when he decided that yes, he still wants to become Consul even though it was originally imposed on him by his father, but he didn’t expect Clotted to become as intense as he is.

The disconnect from Clotted’s upbringing and sphere as someone in one of the Great Houses is what brought them together and what Clotted wanted for a long time but at some point, to get to the Clotted we see in-canon, he went back. He didn’t find happiness in being completely disconnected from serving the Republic that hurt him but he found happiness in making his decisions for the Republic solely his own. He serves the Republic because he wants to - not because his father wants to, not because the Elders need a conduit for their decisions, but because he wants what’s best for his people. 

Of course becoming Consul is inherently political, and Herren knows this and again, he still supported Clotted’s endeavors, but the traits of being a politician leaking into their relationship was a problem. Canon Clotted has a difficult time being open and has to keep many secrets. This is both a basic politican thing but also the people he grew up around forced him to develop this and it comes back once he spends time again in the circle. Herren watching Clotted go back to this despite the fact they’ve been together and open with each other for a while is hard. Especially when he’s transparent and wears his heart on his sleeve. Clotted isn’t doing this to him on purpose but it’s so instinctual once he’s back to where he used to be. He just becomes a lot of intense in general.

Herren is conflict-avoidant with the people he cares about. And it’s a huge issue when you combine that with the unstoppable force that is Clotted’s ambition and Clotted’s divided time. Herren needs someone to slow down and pull out his worries when there’s signs of it, he needs the confrontational Clotted before Clotted went back on the fast track of becoming Consul. Clotted needs someone to pull him back when he’s going too far and give him that stop when he needs it. Herren does not have this ability and Clotted does not have the time as he used to spend as much time with Herren and notice every detail of change he inhibits. Which yes could’ve been solved if Herren communicated better but it’s one of his flaws that does not get resolved while they’re together. He only gets better at this when they're at the breakup point.

Clotted looks forward. He’s one of his core traits. If Herren doesn’t say anything, then everything seems fine to him. Clotted needs someone who is stubborn in a sense and will intervene even if it’s uncomfortable. Which is why I like him with Financier but that’s a whole different essay. But he really is an unstoppable force that Herren is not at all equipped to handle nor was ready for when he met him. 

But YAYYY that’s basically the “lore” (Clotted analysis). I just thought it would be fun to both explore a younger Clotted and have someone close to him that gets to experience and react to his change and development. Despite the length of this, it’s still a work in progress because some details need refining and stronger connections so I hope the basic idea gets across.

Clotted eventually finds a middle ground between being free from the expectations that were imposed on him and still serving the Republic which resulted in the morally grey and intense Clotted we have today. Herrencreme will one day find someone who is willing to bring joyous, adventurous days into his life between the mundane periods of living, appreciate his lovey dovey gestures, and happily be dragged off with him to whatever grand experience he’s looking for next. But it won’t be Clotted for him and Herren will not be for Clotted. Clotted will always have his ambition and his vision for the future of the Republic in his sights and that will always impact who he’s with and I’m happy that he eventually figured it out but it doesn’t work out with everyone (and that’s okay lol)

If you made it this far congrats and thank you so much for reading my ramblings😭

[chalkscene]

lovebrush chronicles ⇢ NO COMPETITION ft. lars rorschach

wc: 4.1k

note: white day spoiler if you haven’t read them. but also not really lol consider this canon divergent because some of the lore have blurred together in my head + this is just a longer, self-indulgent, dramatic version of mc’s confession about her being a traveler because i refuse to accept that she told lars about it through email like they’re just colleagues and not his girlfriend — not proofread !!

“hi…” you peek into lars’s office. “are you busy?”

as soon as your eyes land on the heaps of paperwork scattered on his desk, you already know the answer to your question but lars’s expression tells you otherwise. he instantly beams at your presence and walks over to you, whatever he needed to get done now forgotten.

“not anymore.” ecstatic, he reaches for your hand to guide you past the doorway and further into the room. “did you feel me missing you? because i was.”

even when his flirty banter elicits a playful eye roll from you, you can’t help but feel endeared. no matter how much time has passed since you’ve gotten together, he still showers you with the same affection like it’s the first time.

you suppose his childhood was abundant in love. it’s the only explanation as to why he has so much to give without ever running out for himself.

“you just saw me yesterday,” you tease him anyway.

lars pouts. “that’s one day too long without you.”

just like that, you’re reminded of the reason you stopped by his office.

what your boyfriend assumes is a sudden visit from you is the reason you didn’t get any sleep last night. you’d been tossing and turning in your sheets, thinking up ways to go about this much needed conversation without tying your stomach in knots.

“everything alright?” lars’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. he’s always been perceptive enough to notice when you’re preoccupied.

“i actually needed to talk to you about something.”

lars would usually utter some quip to lighten the mood before it even dampened but right now, upon seeing your pensive expression, he can’t bring himself to do so. the gears in his head begin to turn as he tries to gauge how important this conversation is going to be. as far as he’s concerned, he hasn’t done anything wrong.

“okay…” he drawls, motioning for you to sit on the couch with him. “sounds serious. what is it?”

knowing what you’re about to tell him, it’s absurd to expect him to remain unfazed. still, you cling onto hope that lars will hear you out without fear. that you don’t lose the person you love over the one thing that’s beyond your control.

“you’ve been asking about what happened when i disappeared,” you start, your voice so small against the erratic pounding of your heart as lars stares at you in anticipation. “the truth is… i’m a traveler.”

as if everything else has come to a standstill, you easily catch the subtle twitch in lars’s eyebrows as confusion manifests in his visage.

“i’m…” he falters. “i’m not sure i’m following.”

doubt creeps into your mind and you’re wondering if you should’ve rehearsed what you were going to say instead of opting for whatever pops into your head. but you’re already here and lars is listening with bated breath so you try again.

“i can travel to different multiverses,” you explain—not that it makes any of this easier for him to comprehend. “i thought ‘in passing’ was an original idea since i dreamt of it but it turned out to be a vision of a parallel universe. the characters, the places, everything i drew in the manga, it all exists in another world. so did the earthquakes. they…” you trail off for a moment, racking your brain for a sensible way to tell lars you had heard a young alkaid’s voice in your head as if you don’t already sound crazy as it is. “i responded to someone’s call for help from a different universe. but by doing that, i didn’t know i’d shifted the target and sacrificed our world to save his. i had to leave so i could find a way to put a stop to it.”

“what target?” there isn’t the slightest hint of mockery in lars’s tone but you can read him well enough to know that even he can’t believe he’s actually asking a genuine question.

“someone’s been targeting all these worlds for their own gain and earth is one of their prospects.”

your words leave a bad taste in your mouth as you are now realizing the real extent of the truth. despite your knowledge on a multitude of worlds beyond your own, there is still something much larger that has yet to unravel. you can’t even envision the lengths you’ll have to go through to get to the bottom of it—if you even get there at all.

with this overload of peculiar information, lars can only mutter an okay under his breath. and even then, it sounds more directed at himself than you—like he’s convincing himself to believe you because why would you lie to him? and if you were lying to him, why would you make up something so… inconceivable? he has so many questions. “how is all this even possible?”

“i… i’m not sure. all i know is i got my abilities from my mother. she was also a traveler.” you pause to give lars a few seconds to let the words register before you deliberately add, “so is cael.”

“anselm?”

“he knew her.”

you disclose everything—your mother’s initial plan on earth. how cael got entangled in the final moments of her life. who he is and his role in yours. project shelter. godheim and eden. your illustra. all of it.

lastly, you tell lars he’s one of the paragons.

you’ve never seen him look more dubious when he asks, “what do you mean?”

“there’s a version of you in each universe,” you confess, “and i’ve met some of them.”

like canvas, lars’s expression is now smeared with a mix of disbelief and distress, its hue so unfamiliar to you. at this point, you’re scrambling for anything to say just to keep him from slipping out of your fingertips.

you need lars to believe that in spite of the things he didn’t know about you, he’s still right about you—who you are and where your heart lies. what he means to you. you need lars to believe that even though your paths were already fated to cross long before you were made aware of each other’s existence, it has been your wholehearted choice to love him.

silence gradually fills the space around you and lars—and while a flicker of hope begs to be stoked as you wait for him to cut through the quiet, you’re apprehensive lest he say something you don’t want to hear and what you wish to be warmth from a hearth turn into wildfire instead.

you feel your resolve crack with each passing second, regret seeping through the crevices like a harsh reminder of how wrong this decision was. everything was already fine. lars never questioned you. you should’ve kept it that way.

but you force the thought away because he deserves to know. you don’t want to be unfair to him. now that you’ve bared your truth, however lars feels about it—about you—is no longer in your hands.

“that’s, um…” he finally speaks, yet still at a loss for words. “that’s a lot to process.”

his tone is laced with something heavy and as his words enter your ears, so does the weight of his voice. all you can do is sit there as you feel it slither deep into your system until it’s pressing down on your chest and crushing your heart.

“take your time,” you mumble, defeated and almost on autopilot. what else is left for you to say?

“i’m sorry about your mother.” lars means it.

though you acknowledge his sentiments, lars realizes you’re not looking at him anymore. your eyes are fixed on your fidgeting hands—whether it’s in shame or guilt, he’s not sure but whatever pull that has naturally drawn him to you before is still there and in this moment, he wants nothing more than to ease your mind.

he’s not scared, he wants to tell you. he’s confused and overwhelmed but he’s not afraid of you.

a knock on the door suddenly interrupts your conversation.

“mr. rorschach, the meeting is about to start.” it’s his secretary.

lars winces, seemingly having forgotten the important appointment. he mutters a quick apology to you before addressing his employee, “can we reschedule?”

“i’m afraid not, sir. the board members are already here. they’re just waiting for you.”

“you should go,” you suggest just loud enough for lars to hear. you can sense his hesitation but it’s not like you have much of a choice here.

“i’ll be there shortly,” lars then dismisses his secretary. once the door closes, he turns back to you. “what about you?”

“i need to be home soon. beans is waiting for me.”

lars is suddenly getting déjà vu from your words as your disappearance flashes back to him.

being a ceo and heir to the family company before he’s even hit the age of 30, lars has quickly learned the twists and turns of negotiations, securing himself deals that lean in his favor. his flair for business has never failed him but it proved to be of no use in the singular point in time when you vanished without a trace.

lars isn’t a devotee of a higher power but in a moment of desperation, if some deity were to materialize right before his eyes, he would’ve surrendered everything in a heartbeat just to get you back.

however, there was no divine entity to intervene or make a trade with. there was no one to beg.

lars searched for you in every place you could be, walked past your house every single day in hopes that he’d find you there but to no avail. hearing your voice would’ve sufficed, he remembers praying, but none of his calls were going through. he’d attempted to dial your number too many times, he could’ve sworn that the busy signal continuously rung in his ears and never stopped. all this wealth and resources yet none of them could lead him to you. the last thing he ever wanted to do was give up but he was running out of options. he had no other choice but to wait and hope that wherever you had gone, you’d make it back.

to this day, the memory remains vivid and the possibility of it reoccurring is enough to make his insides churn and his mind go haywire.

and it wasn’t like he never tried to address it the first time. he had once hinted at it in a conversation but you seemed evasive so he never brought it up again. after all, everyone has their own secrets. he simply trusted that you would tell him yours when you were ready, no matter how long it took.

it turns out no amount of time could’ve prepared him for it.

“i’ll call my driver,” lars offers but you decline.

“it’s fine.”

you sound polite yet resolute so lars doesn’t insist but a single thought crosses his mind—with his blonde hair as golden as his heart, you’ve always made it known that you deem him comparable to the sun. now, as he watches you take your leave, it’s almost as if that exact same light scathes you and you couldn’t get away from him any faster.

“let me know when you get home.” you didn’t need to be reminded, lars knows it, but he expresses it anyway solely for the sake of saying something—anything—to you then maybe you’ll say something back but you only reply with a nod, barely sparing him another glance before you’re out of his office.

you may have traveled to distant realms twice but to lars, you’ve never felt further from his reach than you do right now.

deep in thought, you absentmindedly fiddle with your dinner. you’re not sure why you bothered to cook when you don’t really have an appetite. beans, however, is the complete opposite as he devours his meal like you haven’t fed him in days.

“you’re gonna throw up if you keep eating like that,” you warn him as if he understands a single word. you make a mental note to buy him a slow feeder.

save for beans’s gobbling, your house is otherwise quiet, though not serene.

your thoughts are in a spiral as you try to rack your brain for all the possibilities your relationship with lars could go from this point. you’re too far from ordinary to wish for things to remain as they are but that’s not what you want. like broken porcelain mended back together, you just want lars to truly look at you, traveler and all, and still see the person he loves.

a knock on the door suddenly breaks you out of your reverie.

“lars?” you freeze at the sight of him on your doorstep. aside from the text you sent him when you got home, you haven’t really talked since you left his office. you weren’t sure if he wanted to see you.

“can i come in?”

despite having a long day, lars still appears unruffled—his luscious locks curl in all the right ways, his suit looks as pristine as it did this afternoon and his disposition, calm and collected like always.

you don’t have the heart to deny him so like you would under any other circumstance, you let him in.

the moment lars steps inside, the loud clanging of beans’s food bowl on the floor reverberates around the room as he dashes straight to lars, immediately nuzzling against his leg.

“hey, buddy!” lars greets your cat which is met with what sounds like an accusatory meow. as appeasement, he crouches down to give beans a few gentle pats on his head. “yes, i promise to bring tinnie with me next time.”

you’re about to shut the door when a gust of wind swooshes through, carrying a leaf into your home which triggers beans’s instincts to chase after it.

before you know it, you’re alone with lars and his attention is already on you. “hi.”

“hi,” you reply with a voice so weak and small.

“i think you know why i’m here,” he reminds you albeit kindly.

“you could’ve waited until tomorrow to talk. i wouldn’t mind,” you say as sincerely as you can but even you’re not entirely convinced of your own claim. “you’re probably tired from your meeting.”

“i’m never tired when i see you,” lars quips but his coquetry doesn’t affect you like it usually does as you only manage a quirk at the corners of your lips, subtly averting your gaze elsewhere.

the handsome face which you’ve known to cause a warm flutter in your heart is now the reason it might stop at any given moment out of immense fear that you find the slightest hint of apprehension in his visage. or worse, you witness the light in his eyes dimming gradually until his gaze is nothing but a blank stare. so you don’t look at him at all.

however, none of this is unexpected to lars so he takes it upon himself to cross the distance between the two of you.

“come here.” he reaches for your hand, gently dragging you with him en route to the sofa in your living room. this conversation is already uncomfortable as it is. he might as well find you a cozy place to have it in.

“on the way here, i’ve had some time to think about everything you told me,” he begins when you look at him again, “i’m not going to lie and say i understand how this whole… travelling works. but i believe you.”

when lars reflected on your conversation earlier, he’d recalled the vr movie of a possible apocalyptic future you’d seen together. he wanted to mock it then for its improbability but after everything he learned today, none of it seems too far-fetched now.

“i am scared though,” he continues and you almost feel your heart plummet to your gut only to be caught by a hair’s breadth before the crash when you hear the faint sound of lars’s chuckle. the ghost of a smile adorns his face and with a tone that’s anything but jealous, he adds, “i’m scared you’ll choose another lars over me.”

the next thing you know, he’s straightening his posture and puffing his chest out in a humorous attempt to appear intimidating.

“tell me about them. i need to know my competition,” he jests, prompting a giggle to bubble past your lips. for the first time today, you feel like you can breathe again.

most people would’ve surely run for the hills by now but lars has stayed rooted to your side, not inching away from you even slightly.

“okay,” you finally speak as your anxiety dissipates little by little, “the first time i encountered a version of you was in godheim—the same universe where in passing took place,” lars nods at this as if to say he’s familiar with it before you continue, “in that world, you’re the emperor.”

“the male lead in your manga?” lars asks but before you can express any confirmation, the curiosity in his face is already morphing into smugness, clearly pleased with this piece of revelation. “so you’ve been drawing me before you even knew i exist? that could only mean one thing—we’re meant to be.”

“don’t be so sure,” you banter, “eden lars was cute.”

you purposely describe lars’s eden counterpart in such manner to see how he’ll react and you are not disappointed. his body stiffens as a frown forms between his eyebrows and the hand that was so lovingly tracing the outline of yours comes to an abrupt halt. you stifle a grin to stay in character, pointing at the little pot of succulent sitting on your windowsill. “he actually gave me that cactus before i left.”

“i didn’t know you liked such things,” lars responds in a level voice but had you not known him enough, you wouldn’t have caught the hint of competitiveness right underneath. you can almost imagine him sizing his eden variant up if they ever met.

“i mean…” you shrug, feigning obliviousness to his current demeanor, “i can appreciate them.”

lars simply nods, mentally taking notes of your preference as if being your lover is the most important role he’s ever taken on and he wishes to fulfill it with utmost diligence. you can’t help but fall into a fit of giggles.

“you’re cute when you get jealous,” you tease, “don’t worry. he’s not that good of a fighter.”

“lame,” he jabs, though his tone is more playful than hostile. still, you lightly slap his arm with your free hand, making him chortle. “who else did you meet?”

“there’s… the governor,” you answer more seriously, your spirits now dampened as you deliberately utter the title of his parallel from the infinite empire like you’re testing the words on your tongue. “i haven’t met him but from what cael tells me, he’s cunning and manipulative. he’s part of the empire responsible for harvesting emotions from multiple worlds.”

for a brief moment, lars takes in the new information. in your desire to be fully transparent with him, you quickly add before you forget, “cael used to be one of them but he had a change of heart.”

lars lets out a scoff. “that explains why mr. anselm isn’t so fond of me.”

“he’s just being protective of me,” you placate him, though you’re secretly amused by his grumbling.

“too protective. i could’ve sworn he was gonna push me off the boat the day we met.”

you only grin at his dramatics but lars doesn’t feel the need to say anything else either. he simply basks in your mirth, letting it send a wave of tranquility through his veins to subdue the guilt that was bubbling up inside him. he can’t stomach the idea that there exists a universe where “he” would put you in harm’s way. like the fault of another lars is just as much as his.

lars mentally kicks himself for being presumptuous, too confident in his own capabilities to be useful regardless of the situation. if only he knew what you were facing, he usually thought to himself, failing to realize that in the end, even someone as powerful as him still has his limits.

it’s a lesson he should’ve learned from the very first time you disappeared. it should’ve humbled him enough to feel gratitude towards cael for protecting you. and he does. but there’s a nagging thought that fills his head, perfectly encapsulating his conflicting emotions into words—lars wishes it was him by your side through all of it. it’s what any loving boyfriend would want, he tells himself but deep down, he’s aware that his desire to be needed by you, while it comes from a place of love, also stems from a place of pride.

if this is the pride they talk about in the bible, he will never repent.

“cael wouldn’t let anything happen to me,” you console lars as if you can discern his predicament, “you can trust him.”

“i know,” he agrees, not dwelling on his worries any further. these are the cards fate has already dealt him with—if he can’t follow you to another world, he’ll stay with you in this one. “thank you for telling me all of this.”

“are you upset?” you cautiously ask.

lars ponders for a moment before shaking his head. “i think if i were in your situation, i would’ve also kept it from you for your sake. however...” there’s a brief pause when he sighs then he’s forming his next words with care. “i also think that you would’ve wanted me to tell you if i were to run off to another world again.”

you know that the last thing he intends to do is question your conscience but he’s not wrong. you can’t even imagine how you would cope if you were in his place.

“can you promise me something?” lars speaks again, his voice now uncharacteristically soft and fragile like his heart could crumble any moment.

“anything.”

“if something comes up and you need to travel again, please tell me,” he asks—no. pleads. he’s pleading with you. something someone as self-assured as lars rorschach rarely does. “i know i can’t stop you from leaving but i need to know where you go when i can’t follow you. i don’t want to see the day when something happens to you and i’ll be the last to know because i had no clue where you were.”

at his frantic state, you try to reassure him but even your own voice is quivering now. “you don’t have to worry about me.”

“i’ll always worry about you,” lars reasons with you, almost chuckling at the ridiculousness of your statement. “even if you’re just out shopping for cat food and i don’t hear from you for a few hours, i’ll worry about you. because i love you.”

you’ve heard those three words spoken straight from his lips countless times but there’s an earnestness in his voice that presents you with a new depth of his love, its current stronger than ever and yet it only makes you braver—you know he’ll always carry you ashore.

tears begin prick your eyes but your chest feels lighter despite being filled to the brim with adoration for the man before you. and you think maybe this is it.

this is what your mom’s sacrifice all comes down to—from meeting your father and learning about love, to putting her life on the line and entrusting cael with the responsibility to preserve your innocence, all so you can learn about it too and live out moments like this. moments that make you ultimately human.

i promise. the words fail to escape your lips as you’re no longer able to contain your emotions but lars hears you anyway. he gently swipes away your tears, pressing soft kisses across your skin before he’s wrapping you in his arms, the safest place this world can offer you.

“i love you,” you tell him through your sniffles. it’s a wet and broken declaration but you mean it all the same.

“more than eden lars?” he jokes, pulling a hearty laugh out of you.

“much.” you close the distance that separates you, muffling his own laughter with a kiss. for a moment, you pull away as you promise, “you’re the only lars for me.”

this time, lars takes it upon himself to bring your lips together, the tenderness of his action fully contrasting his passionate kisses like he’s communicating a wordless vow.

maybe in the future, he’ll find a way to travel with you through time and space but for now, every piece of his heart is yours to keep, along with his undying optimism that no matter how far your journey takes you, his love will guide you back home where he’ll be waiting endlessly.

[musicalmoritz]

hi hi mutual :D

I’m not a huge aoinene shopper (although I do ship it) but! I wanted to ask for your Aoinene hc’s since I have labeled you as the Aoinene expert in my head and I saw you reblog that post we reblogged about the ship hc’s and such!!

convince me into the aoinene lore…. /hj -Bunny

Hiiiiiii mutual!! First of all I’ve said this before but I love being known as the Aoinene Expert™️, so happy that’s my reputation lol

Headcanons are my specialty so I’m glad you asked this!! I will gladly convince you into the Aoinene lore/hj. They’ve been rotting away my brain all day so I’m gonna take this opportunity to ramble abt them and explain how I see the ship

• So as far as canon goes I wouldn’t change either of the canon pairings for them, shipping for me sort of exists in a multiversal vacuum where I can imagine alternatives for who the characters end up with and how they end up with those ppl via fan content

• I do, however, love the idea of them having mutual crushes on each other in canon. I think Nene plays hers off as just admiring Aoi but deep down she feels the same way abt her that she does Teru and Fuji (or maybe a little bit more serious since they’re best friends). And while I think Akane is Aoi’s ultimate soulmate in canon I can see her having feelings for Nene as well, though I think they’d start to fade once Nene began to pull away from her

• As for fanon tho…

• In my head there’s an alternate universe where these two end up together after everything. This usually involves lesbian Aoi bcuz I do adore that headcanon in anything that’s not the actual manga. I like to think they both developed mutual crushes on each other in middle school and Aoi was very internally angsty and aware of her’s whereas Nene was very repressed abt her feelings for girls in general

• They totally have sleepovers every week, on Fridays specifically. They do typical things like watching movies and painting each other’s nails but they’re teenage girls so they’d also probably try to summon demons. And since this is tbhk they’d probably succeed a few times (now I need an au where Nene summons Bloody Mary instead of Hanako)

• Since it’s Aoinene ofc there’s gotta be a moment when Aoi finally opens up to Nene about everything, but I don’t think that would come without difficulty. Lots of avoiding each other and being super distant bcuz neither of them want to be the first to bring it up, then maybe a dramatic fight or two before they come back together on calmer terms and have a long conversation at one of their sleepovers about everything. Whether platonic or romantic that's usually how I envision their resolution

• I think it would also have to come after Aoi's taken some time to work through her mental health problems, she's made progress but she still has a long way to go and that stuff isn't easy to talk about, especially when she knows Nene's view of her will change

• I don't think Nene ever intends to hurt Aoi though, she's more-so negligent and a bit self-centered. And she seems to know something is off with Aoi never talking abt herself but she can't take that further step into understanding WHY she acts the way that she does

• To be honest I see Nene as stressing a lot when she realizes something's going on because she doesn't want to lose their friendship, and I do think she would embrace the real Aoi with open arms if she ever were to meet her

• Then I think they'd have some struggles of adjusting to their new dynamic and figuring out how they work with Aoi being herself + Aoi would instinctively try to pull away a bit, but I think they'd find a way to make it work

• They would constantly be going on dates, wanting to try new places together. They've probably tried every cafe in their town, I could also see them being the type of couple to have each other's orders memorized

• A lot of fics tend to pull them away from their canon love interests in one way or another but not me, Hanako and Akane automatically become wingmen. Those girls are a mess and they need all the advice they can get, even if their makeshift relationship counsellors are far from qualified

• They match their outfits whenever they go out, and they're also 100% the type to do matching Halloween costumes

• Nene has a houseplant in her room that's a gift from Aoi

• Nene calls Aoi every time she has to run errands but doesn't want to do it alone. They end up at the pet store a lot

• Their moms are both convinced they're secretly dating and place bets on when they'll announce it

• They both get easily flustered around each other when they first start dating but in different ways; Nene is a very loud and dramatic type of flustered, very shoujo protagonist core. And Aoi is more the quiet, tsundere genre of flustered

• In the future I picture Nene as a successful writer and Aoi as a flower shop owner and they have a house by the beach. And a hamster, of course

• I also choose to believe they were girlfriends in the Ghost Hotel au before Aoi passed, then they got reunited when Nene arrived at the hotel

• Nene cries very easily and Aoi is a good fake-crier

• Aoi is a little spoon, pass it on

That's all I can think of rn, tysm for your ask! I am going to continue brainrotting over Aoinene for the foreseeable future lmao

[listener-symphony]

I’m bored and I have the power to randomly generate pairs and such, soo, making up random interactions with randomized pairs (plus one trio cuz there’s an odd number). Below the cut because it’s gonna be long (there’s a lot of characters!

(Also it’s okay if nobody has anything they want to send in as an ask but if you’re just being shy or worried I want you to know that 99% of the time askblogs would love to receive an ask and you’re not being a bother by doing it. Don’t know if anybody needed to hear that it’s just I personally always get worried that askblogs receive too many asks so I try not to send them but I’ve done ask series in the past so I know that usually they would love to get a single ask and if they DO have too many they would close the ask box or say something about it, so if they haven’t, you should always send something. That’s all, hope this doesn’t sound like I’m begging for asks I’m just trying to give genuine advice for interacting with askblogs lol)

Okay now to the randomized interactions!

-

LimL!Pearl: Oh! Hi Lizzie! How are you doing…?

SL!Lizzie: …

3L!Scar: She’s probably come to see her husband again.

LimL!Pearl: Oh right! I thought he usually goes to the cliff to visit her though…?

3L!Scar: Well, some nights she comes to make sure we aren’t all staying up late here in the desert…

*SL!Lizzie glares at 3L!Scar*

3L!Scar: …I’m always asleep at night Lizzie… you don’t need to look at me like that… I only know about you coming here some nights because- uh- UH-

LimL!Pearl: uh oh…

-

DL!Scott: hey Ren…

DL!Ren: oh, hello! What’s up?

DL!Scott: you’re a dog hybrid, right?

DL!Ren: yup! What about it?

DL!Scott: well, my Soulbound is one as well, so I was wondering if maybe you could explain why she’s been acting so… weird?

DL!Ren: …what kind of weird?

DL!Scott: you know… the way she’s been acting since we arrived here.

DL!Ren: …I don’t think that has anything to do with her being a wolf, honestly.

DL!Scott: okay, thanks anyway…

-

LimL!Jimmy: HALT! I’m stealing that sheep!

3L!Etho: no please! I managed to get it all the way here from the Ranch! I can’t let you double steal it!

LimL!Jimmy: …wait, you stole it?

3L!Etho: well, yeah, they’re the only ones with sheep. Singular. This is the only sheep. How did you not know that?

LimL!Jimmy: …and you stole it from the Ranchers?

3L!Etho: …yes…?

LimL!Jimmy: …you know what? I’ll help.

3L!Etho: :D

-

3L!Jimmy: So… you’ve had those crystals since the beginning, you said…

LL!Scott: … I don’t see why you care so much…

3L!Jimmy: Future Big Man Scott… I know what those crystals mean-

LL!Scott: I’m sorry I can’t have a serious and dramatic emotional conversation if you’re gonna call me that.

3L!Jimmy: Sorry!!! I don’t know what to call you!!! Scott’s my husband and you’re… not!

LL!Scott: ….. I don’t feel like talking about this right now. But, for future reference, I suppose you could call me… Stars?

3L!Jimmy: …Okay, Stars.

-

LL!Mumbo: So you mean to tell me, your version of me killed Scar?

SL!BigB: yup. And that’s why he’s not here. He swallowed him whole and he can never recover from that.

LL!Mumbo: he WHAT?! Okay, I gotta ask the other me if this is true…

SL!BigB: you can’t.

LL!Mumbo: why…?

SL!BigB: because when he ate Scar, Scar took over his brain, so he doesn’t remember anything.

LL!Mumbo: …I’m terrified.

-

LL!Scar: This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve asked me for a love crystal, you know.

DL!Martyn: wait, really? What did the other me want with one?

LL!Scar: no idea! Maybe to help his awful marriage or something. Actually, was Mumbo still alive at that point? Ah, the memories all blur together. Anyways! You’re gonna have to promise me something good in return.

DL!Martyn: But… I don’t have anything!

LL!Scar: Me neither! Thats why you have to promise me something.

DL!Martyn: wait, do you even have any crystals?

LL!Scar: hahaha… nope! Still waiting for Santa to give me that Crystal Making Kit for Christmas.

DL!Martyn: …you mean Symphony? Ugh, whatever, I’ll come back when you actually have crystals, I guess…

LL!Scar: don’t scoff at me when you don’t even have anything to pay with!!

-

LL!Tango: Are the rumors true? Are you actually… washed up?

LimL!Etho: man 😭

-

LL!Martyn: so… you won…

LimL!Martyn: yes. What about it?

LL!Martyn: …did they… are they… are you… happy?

LimL!Martyn: ….it was satisfying. What about you? How’s losing feel, loser?

LL!Martyn: …… rude. You’re quite rude for a giant scary… pirate.

LimL!Martyn: isn’t your name Fart or something?

LL!Martyn: listen dude I’m being incredibly vulnerable right now and you are not very nice about it. I’m leaving.

LimL!Martyn: don’t know what you expected. Especially when your name is Fart-

LL!Martyn: BYE!

-

Gem: Hey Skizz!

LL!Skizz: oh hey… Gem! Wow, you’re the only one of your kind…

Gem: my kind??

LL!Skizz: Gems! There’s like four Skizzles and only one Gem!

Gem: oh, yeah… honestly, it’s kind of scary, especially since it’s like nobody knows me except Secret Lifers…

LL!Skizz: aw, that’s sad! I’m sure you can fit in with the rest of us soon enough!

Gem: Aw, thanks Skizz!

-

3L!Skizz: Hey Impulse… The Impulse I know is up in Lonely Cliff, and I know he betrayed my guys, but I’m still kind of worried about him, you know? So I was wondering if you knew anything that could convince him to talk to us again…?

LL!Impulse: hm… maybe he wants to play some fun British games

3L!Skizz: …never mind��???

-

LL!Lizzie: so… you’re saying that your Joel is… a bad boy?

LimL!Grian: ……you can’t have him

LL!Lizzie: DARN!

-

SL!Scott: ohhhhh no please don’t do it please don’t-

SL!Jimmy: THE FLORIST SENDS HIS REGARDS!

SL!Scott: NO HE DOESN’T!!! HE HASN’T SPOKEN TO YOU!!! I SAW HIM!!!

-

SL!Martyn: *sniffsniff*

LL!Bdubs: WHY DOES EVERYONE ALWAYS SNIFF??

SL!Martyn: I can smell it… you have… relationship issues

LL!Bdubs: NO I DO NOT!!! ETHO AND I ARE VERY HAPPY!!! GET OUTTA HERE YOU MUTT!!!

-

3L!BigB: Dang it’s crazy that Dog Martyn can sniff out relationship issues

LL!Etho: huh? Where’d you hear that from?

3L!BigB: oh well he just did it to- uhh… UHHH…

-

SL!Skizz: ……. So you’re… with Top?

DL!Jimmy: …excuse me?

SL!Skizz: you know, Tango Top?

DL!Jimmy: …I think that’s between me and Tango-

-

LimL!Joel: WHY ARE YOU HUMAN?!

SL!Cleo: Why aren’t you?

LimL!Joel: …

-

LL!Pearl: So, if you had to choose between Gaslight, Gatekeep, and Girlboss which one would you be?

LimL!Scott: I’m thinking Girlboss. But I’d be… Gillboss.

LL!Pearl: … you’re nothing like the Scott I know…

LimL!Scott: ???? Well yeah, he’s not a fish…

-

3L!Ren: That ship you live in seems dangerous… wouldn’t you rather live in a castle in the Kingdom?

DL!Etho: You don’t even know the half of it, Ren… But also, I don’t think you want all the Shipwreckers in your Kingdom.

3L!Ren: …Yeah, okay, I admit I’m a little afraid of you Double Lifers.

-

SL!Mumbo: so we’re best friends for real now, since Secret Life is over right?

SL!Etho: ?? no

SL!Mumbo: 🥺😭

-

LL!BigB: you know, if your scary wife is too scary for you, you could always change your identity a little…

SL!Joel: nothing is too scary for me, especially not my scary wife.

LL!BigB: okay, but I’m just saying, she would never be looking for anyone named Jerry.

SL!Joel: …?

-

LimL!BigB: So… anything interesting going on in your life?

SL!Impulse: if I hit things with sticks it kind of works like drums

LimL!BigB: …so a no, then

-

LimL!Scar: Mom, how many divorces do you have to go through?!

DL!Cleo: wtf

-

LL!Cleo: So who in Lonely Cliff is Gaslight, who is Gatekeep, who is Girlboss?

DL!Grian: …I’d be Gatekeep, Impulse would be Gaslight, and Lizzie would be Girlboss. Now go away.

LL!Cleo: Okay… but I really think all you Loners should hang out more. Could be good for you.

DL!Grian: I said go away.

-

LL!Ren: Second place…?

LimL!Impulse: Second place.

LL!Ren: …congrats.

LimL!Impulse: …you too.

-

3L!Tango: …

LimL!Tango: …

3L!Tango: …what is up with the Jimmys

LimL!Tango: I know right?! They’re so obsessed with that other Tango!

3L!Tango: I just think it’s weird, are you jealous?

LimL!Tango: NO

-

3L!Bdubs: CAN YOU STOP FLYING UP TO MY WINDOW?!

DL!Scar: what’s the point in all these tall towers if nobody’s meant to fly up them?

3L!Bdubs: you’re the ONLY ONE WHO FLIES

DL!Scar: ahh, I see, jealous that I’m the only one who has figured it out.

3L!Bdubs: NO!!! Ugh, maybe it’s a Double Lifer thing…

-

LimL!Skizz: yup! He died first!

3L!Scott: wow… that’s four times in a row… I don’t know if I should tell him or not, honestly… I’m also not sure if it makes me feel better…?

-

LL!Jimmy: okay, I’ve caved. I’m here.

DL!Tango: oh hi! …what do you mean

LL!Jimmy: I’m here to see what all the fuss is about! Why do Jimmys keep coming here?!

DL!Tango: well, I guess they’re just curious about their soulmate…?

LL!Jimmy: okay but nobody is crowding that one Scott.

DL!Tango: because… Ranchers for Life.

-

SL!Pearl: maybe you can fill the Cleo shaped hole in my heart…

3L!Cleo: …I’m married

SL!Pearl: …that’s… not what I meant…

3L!Cleo: then PLEASE work on your wording. Also, TERRIBLE way to start a conversation.

-

DL!Bdubs: have you SEEN my version of you??

3L!Grian: well… yeah… he talked to me.

DL!Bdubs: REALLY? He’s been avoiding everyone though!

3L!Grian: he wanted to know what happened with me and Scar… it’s pretty sad to hear how things went for them in your world.

DL!Bdubs: oh yeah they died badly.

3L!Grian: …. in my world we killed you

DL!Bdubs: OUCH!

-

SL!Bdubs: you should change your wizard tower into a slide

LL!Joel: …what

-

DL!BigB: heyyy…

LL!Grian: hmm?

DL!BigB: you’re a Grian… I was wondering if you could explain anything about my Grian…

LL!Grian: probably not.

DL!BigB: dang, not even gonna try?

LL!Grian: nah, I have nothing to do with THAT drama.

-

SL!Tango: the Bdubs in my world calls Etho daddy too

LimL!Bdubs: ☹️

-

DL!Pearl: HEY!

3L!Impulse: AH.. oh.. you scared me!!

DL!Pearl: Hehee… anyways… I’m just worried about you Loners! If I hadn’t made up with my Soulmate, I’d be here too! I know how much it sucks. So, is there any way I can help?

3L!Impulse: …no. I don’t really fit in anywhere…

DL!Pearl: oh come on! I’m sure everyone else at The Nose would love to have you!

3L!Impulse: hh… I feel like I’d be shot double dead if I was spotted at the Nose.

DL!Pearl: hm.. there’s surely someone who would like to welcome you! What about your soulmate?

3L!Impulse: who…?

DL!Pearl: Bdubs! You two loved each other so much…!

*3L!Impulse has clock flashbacks*

-

LimL!Cleo: Are you treating my son well?

DL!Impulse: uhh… well yeah, but… he’s not your son?

LimL!Cleo: well my actual son doesn’t have any partners so I’m just checking on the other versions of my son. Especially yours. Since in my world you killed him.

DL!Impulse: Oh, well, none of that here! Bdubs and I would never kill each other! …Well, he accidentally killed me technically, but that doesn’t matter! Also… I don’t know how I feel about pretending you’re my mother in law….

-

SL!Grian: hey emo boy did you know we’re soulmates in Secret Life

3L!Joel: don’t call me- wasn’t the soulmate season Double Life?

SL!Grian: Yeah but we were soulmates anyways isn’t that crazy 🥰

3L!Joel: … go away

SL!Grian: all you Joels are the same 😭

-

3L!Martyn: Ren is the best

DL!Joel: no, ETHO is the best!!!

3L!Martyn: BLASPHEMY! Lord Ren the Red King is the greatest!!!

DL!Joel: well, I don’t see his face on your shirt! But look at MINE!

*they argue*

[profanepurity]

how does Lucifer feel about the song “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” and does he play the fiddle

(I ask only the most serious and important of questions as you can tell)

This question came in at the perfect timing when I’m finally solidifying Lucifer’s design. (along with some other characters 👀)

This is so cute lol. So the short answer is yes, he does play the fiddle. Lucifer is ridiculously good at almost every single instrument. As far as the song goes though, he actually kind of loves that song, and I’ll get into why in a minute.

This is The Most Reverend Bishop Stell.

This man is feared by every sibling in the ministry. Only the Papas seem to be able to interact with him comfortably they prefer coming to him for advice over Nihil, as well as Imperator of course. His stare is dreadfully cold and intense as if he can see into your soul he can. His teachings are always so well-spoken and captivating, but his tone leaves you with a sick sense of apprehension for the Old One’s will to finally come to fruition. His handsome features gracing you with a smile usually mean that something horrible is about to happen.

This is how Lucifer chooses to present himself to the church usually. He is an unnerving, but normal man, just idly serving in his faith. This way he can keep a close eye on his followers, but not have a high level of authority that would require him to be super hands-on. He’s only a bishop after all.

While Bishop Stell may prefer to quietly observe from a distance and mind Papa's leadership, that does not mean that Lucifer doesn't truly show himself from time to time.

If the worship and music are good, more often than not Lucifer is among his followers while they dance and sing in reverence. This doesn't totally reveal his identity either, as he's thought to be just a lively ghoul and not given a second glance usually. He takes on the attire of one of Nihil's ghouls, just to really make himself seem dismissable the open jacket and exposed chest kind of work against that though. There's always the exception of one lucky sibling every now and again that finds themself dancing with the devil under the moonlight if they happen to recognize that he is not simply one of the infernal creatures within the ministry.

Occasionally a bold sibling will ask Lucifer if he is in fact capable of playing the fiddle like all the stories and songs, to which he is more than happy to demonstrate. When I tell you this man will be as dramatic as he possibly can be with it, literally setting himself on fire as he starts fiddling, letting spirits dance around him while he's absolutely shredding that violin. See, he does all this to prove a point to his children. Even if someone manages to outplay him in anything, as difficult as that is, he will inevitably have their soul. He claims it's a reminder to the siblings that despite him humoring them and playing along, they better not forget who exactly they're fucking with. Really Lucifer just likes showing off.

Don't get me wrong, Lucifer loves rock and metal, but there's something about '70s-'80s country that he just- likes. Any song that mentions him he finds pretty amusing, and will usually make it a point to play it at some point in the most toe-curling, back-arching demonstration for his followers to witness.

Oh, if you're wondering what's in Lucifer's flask...

Sometimes it's Tennessee Apple, just to fit with the vibe, but more often than not Lucifer drinks a combination of Everclear and Listerine. That unholy concoction, in large amounts, is the only thing remotely strong enough to make him feel just a slight buzz. He likes to alternate between cool mint and artic mint, it's total bullshit that the other flavors are zero alcohol content.

Anyways lol, Lucifer adores shredding any instrument and being among the clergy. However, while he can of course sing more than jaw-droppingly well, that can give him away a lot of the time. That and, once again, Papa is the one he allows to have control of the church and is almost always leading a ritual or worship.

Lucifer's absolute favorite thing to do to remedy that is to get Belial to fuck around with the siblings and ghouls with him. If there is one thing that Lucifer loves just as much as his own voice, it's Belial's. In fact, Belial himself, the one that fell from the pinnacle just after he did, whose body he witnessed hit the bottom of the pit just as hard as he had, could be one of the few beings in existence Lucifer highly regards I can't wait to tell you more about Lucifer's historically accurate best friend. Hearing Belial sing reminds Lucifer of how they used to create stars and planets together, yet how much more he loves that that pretty voice now corrupts mankind and spreads wickedness across the land.

That and Satanas will get super pissed when Lucifer interacts very closely with the clergy, so he just loves doing it.

There's no harm in self-worship, it's a good example for the church.

You'll be seeing a more rendered design for Lucifer and the other Lords of Hell that are going to be in Praeteritum (and another series) very soon!

Thank you so much for the question, this was so much fun to draw! Thank you to everyone who has submitted an ask/ submission for being so patient as well, I'm working through them as I can!

[firepony67]

Part 3 of scenes from utsukare eternal!! This is less favorite scenes now and just bits that I remember enjoying, so that I can come back and reminisce about the movie in the however-many-months before it comes out on DVD.

I’m very sorry to anyone who wants a more cohesive view of the movie, my brain is too chaotic to do a step by step summary, but @anotherblblog did an actual recap/summary. My posts are more like a diary of my own scattered thoughts, because I’m used to my tumblr posts being basically just me talking to myself.

Once again, SPOILER WARNING

First of all, and I’m not putting this on the list officially, but just Kiyoi’s outfits in general!! Stunning, amazing fashion as usual, he’s just gorgeous and his clothes are amazing. Also Anna’s costumes were also fantastic- the monochrome black, widow-ish looks really suited her!

1. Kiyoi and Anna’s manager being incredibly overworked all the time. That man never stops scrambling around frantically, it’s honestly kinda hilarious but also I feel bad for him. I mean he did have to deal with 2 serious “scandals” in a very short amount of time, including Anna with her boyfriend and then a fake scandal of Anna and Kiyoi dating, plus they don’t seem to have any other staff other than the boss dealing with the two actors (kind of bad planning if you ask me, especially given how famous Anna supposedly is).

2. Kind of part of one of my previous favorite scenes- when Anna and her boyfriend are reuniting, Anna is hiding at first and then Hira or Noguchi (Hira’s cameraman boss) tells the boyfriend something like “there’s someone here who wants to see you/talk with you” and the camera pans dramatically to some tulle curtains beautifully draped over an entranceway. And you think it’s gonna be Anna appearing out of the fabric but then Kiyoi just pokes his head out with the cutest expression. And when I tell you the disappointment and wtf energy on the boyfriend’s face was so strong 😂. But then Kiyoi is just like- oh sorry- and shuffles over awkwardly to stand next to Hira so that Anna could get her proper dramatic entrance. It was so cute.

3. The opening scene. Beautifully pastel scene of Hira and Kiyoi waking up (naked) in their bed, and Hira rolling over to cuddle Kiyoi, complete with kind of hazy/dreamy lighting, calming atmospheric music, and a tulle curtain/veil thing covering both of them to add to the dreamlike feel. Some people in the mydramalist comments didn’t like the veil thing, because it was kind of just functioning as a call back to a scene in the series and didn’t actually serve a purpose or make any sense in the movie 😅. And that’s a valid point, but honestly I’m perfectly fine with doing things purely for the aesthetics. Sometimes, artistic choices aren’t super logical lol. It was a beautiful scene, and frankly it’s not too far fetched to me that Hira and Kiyoi might cover themselves with a pretty curtain like that while sleeping together simply for the vibes 👍

4. Hira and Kiyoi apartment hunting together 😭😭 Although obviously Hira’s house is the best, it was so cute to see them going around together thinking about the things they needed in a home (Kiyoi’s list including a bathtub I think, referencing the earlier bathtub steamy scene 🫢). It was so cute how Hira zooms into the kitchen to test out how cooking for them would feel, acting out looking into the living room area to make sure he would be able to see Kiyoi while making food! The domestic fluff!! I’m so soft 🥺

5. Okay I know that Anna’s obsessive fan turned out to be awful later, but I honestly really liked his and Hira’s introduction. It was painfully awkward, but the way they bonded over their shared fan interests and devotion to their idols was honestly really sweet, and then how they cautiously shook hands afterwards- I was kind hoping Hira would gain a friend with a similar personality to him, but instead he gained an enemy that he would later try to murder for hurting Kiyoi and then subsequently almost be murdered by. So that’s fun 🙃