#oh no.... i accidentally an essay | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sweetiechenle · 4 months ago

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sleepyhead ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁.ᐟ mark

pairing: non-idol!collegestudent!mark x afab!collegestudent!reader

summary: your friend and classmate mark helps you out in class after accidentally sleeping in, but the hint of a scribble in the notes he lends you threatens to rewrite your relationship.

w.c: 7.2k

warnings: mdni 18+, strangers to friends, friends to lovers, it's all fluff with a dash of light angst, reader is oblivious to marks advances, but he's kinda dumb too, idiots in love, mutual pining, kissing, confessions, soft smut, love making literally, oral (f receiving), porn with plot, unprotected sex (dont do this), praising, pet names, soft!dom!top!mark (god i need him), crack/humor, lots of time skips im so sorry, if i forgot anything oh well lmk, i used this idea for a different fandom YEARS AGO, i am too embarrassed to admit what fandom but if you find it and think i'm stealing i am not. promise. reblogs and feedback appreciated ♡ fiction ≠ reality

you yawned big and loud, trying not to give yourself away too much, you kept your limbs from reaching outward. mark, your seatmate, and kind of friend?, gave you an inquisitive look. as if to ask if you were okay. truth be told, it was all rock bottom. papers upon papers, presentations, reading, and a lab took up all of your time this semester. you met Mark at the beginning of the year in your ‘major writings of the european tradition I’. you sat near the front because of your bad vision and the brown haired boy came next to you saying the famous ‘is this seat taken?’ line to which you said no. this left him to plop down in the said seat he pointed at. you studied him hard, clad in a semi-tight shirt and worn jeans, his white tube socks poking out once he sat down. it was hard not to notice the dirty and distressed black converse, probably wearing them every day since he could fit in them. he had a boyish grin when he turned to you and asked about how your day was going, you blushed noticing how handsome he actually is. his bright eyes shown under the fluorescent light as he now asked you about the book you were reading. ‘the picture of dorian gray’ sat atop all of your other books from various classes. it was apparently his favorite book too. his lips curled into the brightest smile, excitingly talking about his other favorite books and authors. it was endearingly cute.

you both shared socials in order to stay in touch in case either of you had questions about the class. you two would talk occasionally, keeping a calm distance. sharing literary memes on instagram, sending book recommendations on tiktok, or texting each other late at night when one couldn’t sleep. you would periodically meet up with him to study, or whenever you were too tired to read whatever was assigned in class, mark would read it for you out loud in the comfort of his apartment. it was easy to consider him a friend. at the end of the semester you told him you signed up for major writings of the european tradition II. he pumped his fist in the air earning small giggles from you due to his overreaction. telling you how happy he was that you’d be in the same class again. that’s where you are now, with mark still sitting next to you, listening to the same boring more advanced lecture. you loved literature and being an english major, but sometimes you don't know how many more reading and analysis’ you can take of the odyssey.

glancing at the clock you sighed, an hour left of class. pain was all you knew at this moment, you underslept last night, working on an essay for a speech writing class, trying to get it all down perfectly in order to impress your professor. you didn’t realize it was well past three in the morning when you finally had finished, all you wanted to do right now was go back to your apartment and nap until your next class in four hours. you drowned out the professor and whatever was being said about odysseus and what he got himself into this time. placing your chin on your closed fist, your vision drifting in and out of blurriness, and before you knew it you fell asleep. you gasped when mark nudged you awaken eyes going wide in surprise making him laugh a little bit.

‘dude, you fell asleep, class is over y/n’ mark said once you looked over at him, still in his seat next to you, almost everyone had already left.

you sighed running your fingers through your already messy hair, ‘ugh, i’m sorry, i didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.’

mark laughed, ‘oh, i can tell’

you scowled at him, earning another laugh from the taller man as you both stood up. at least it was friday, and you’d have the whole weekend to catch up on homework, and sleep. ‘want to go get coffee since you’re such a sleepyhead? need to keep you awake somehow’ mark asked, scratching the back of his neck, nervously rocking back and forth. you smiled at how red his ears were, waiting for your response. when you first met, he would occasionally get nervous around you, to which you never knew why, never thinking of yourself as anything special. but you noticed he got anxious around almost everyone after first meeting people. much like yourself, after a while mark started to get more comfortable with you, becoming more confident, and increasingly charming, however he could never hide the facade he tried to put on when asking to hang out outside of class. he would suddenly become a meek and shy, not the confident, outspoken boy you saw almost every day.

‘yes, that would be perfect’ you answered, ‘caffeine is much needed right now’ mark smiled and led you to the open door of the classroom, motioning you to go through first. it was pretty pathetic when butterflies erupted in your stomach, standards weren’t high for you, obviously, the smallest gesture from mark made you turn to putty. you didn’t have a lot of relationship experience, most of the time boys would lead you on, only to tell you they were never ready for anything. only a few longer relationships would end up in flames, men too toxic for you to continue on any longer. every time, earning a vow from you that you would never talk to another boy ever again. you could tell mark was different from anyone you had ever met, he was genuinely sweet and always helped whenever he could, profusely apologizing when he was too busy to come and help you study. you’ve always liked mark more than you should, it was really hard not to, anytime you ever talked about mark to anyone else, only nice things were discussed. you would never admit to harbored feelings for him, he was lovely to everyone, how could you be any different?

after a while, he started walking in front of you to the coffee shop on campus, stealing glancing at you just to make sure you were still following him, making your heart ache so hard the caffeine you were about to consume would probably kill you. entering the coffee shop turned your tired state into total bliss, a welcome and much needed break. ‘oh! there’s johnny, let’s go sit with him’ mark exclaimed, grabbing your hand and pulling you near the table in the back. before you knew it, a tall man with raven black hair was standing up and greeting you and mark. he was older than you and mark, a senior that your friend had met during his freshman year of college. you had met johnny before, a handful of times, and for brief moments. mark would always talk about his other friends with you. he’d tell you that ‘you just have to meet them’, but whenever the time would come it would be short meetings, a hi and bye.

mark brought out your chair and gestured for you to sit down, saying that he would go order you both coffees, leaving you with johnny. he turned to you and smiled, to which you returned, trying to register what mark had just done for you. god you really need to get higher standards, hard albeit mark being your standard. johnny asked you about school and how you are doing with all of it, you asked him similar questions, watching mark disappear in the line for coffee. you didn’t notice johnny calling your name over and over, only when he had gotten up close and personal in order to get your attention. you jumped slightly after the fifth ‘y/n!’

you quickly looked over at him, calming him down, ‘jesus y/n, where did you go? staring at mark? i know he’s pretty but-’

you cut him off, ‘would you keep your voice down!? i wasn’t staring at mark, i was just thinking…’ it was hard to keep the blush from creeping up and having it wash over you like a tsunami.

johnny gave you a knowing look, ‘... thinking about mark’

you glared at him, ‘can we stop talking about mark, please’ desperate to leave this conversation behind, but speak of the devil and he shall appear.

‘why are we talking about mark?’ you and johnny whipped your heads up in surprise, mark standing there with a grin on his handsome, stupid face. holding two coffee cups in each hand, asking in the third person as to why you were both discussing him while he was away.

‘n-nothing, we were just talking about our english class’ you explained quickly trying to save yourself from embarrassment.

johnny just nodded while mark, handed you your coffee and sat down, joining you both at the table in extreme awkward silence. mark broke the ice, ‘y/n fell asleep in class today’ he smirked and looked your way, catching your reaction of groaning and hiding behind your small coffee cup as you took little sips.

johnny laughed along with mark, wishing that the ground would open you up and swallow you whole, ‘it was so funny, the professor didn’t even notice!’ the older boy laughed along with his friend at your plight to fall asleep so easily in class. ‘you even snored a little bit, oh my god, it was so cute!’ he squealed. CUTE!? your eyes went wide, ignoring the embarrassing part about snoring in class. mark called you cute. johnny turned to give you that knowing look again, this caffeine was definitely going to give you a heart attack. this was going to be a long weekend.

monday morning rolled around, the weekend was spent writing papers, reading epic poetry, and sleeping. and also the occasional mental breakdown when you recall that mark called you cute. sunshine hit your face, and that’s when you figured you couldn’t stay in bed any longer. you rubbed your eyes hard and stretched your body out in bed, dreading the fact that you’ll have to get yourself up and ready to learn about some new epic now that the lesson over the odyssey was over. you grabbed your phone from the nightstand, your bones practically jumping out of your body when you realized you had only an hour left of class. you had overslept and missed the first hour of class, fuck. you hurried to get ready, not giving any mind to your appearance, jeans, and a hoodie would do. you texted mark ‘i overslept ( ｡ •̀ ᴖ •́ ｡), just woke up, i’ll be there soon. my chair still open?’ closing the door to your apartment, you marched out into the warm weather, mentally preparing yourself for the embarrassment you were about to face once you walked into class late. eyes peeled to your phone, the delivered immediately turned into read, mark texted back ‘always, sleepyhead’ you rolled your eyes, too much in a rush to get flustered by the nickname this time, shoving the phone in your pocket you continued walking to the humanities building.

you slipped in through the door in the back, making sure it wouldn’t slam shut, praying to any god who would listen to not get called out. thankfully, your prayers were answered, no one said a thing for the rest of class, only mark who gave you a smile once you sat down. you were lost the entire rest of class, the professor going into depth about the cantos and then switching very rapidly to beowulf then to dante’s inferno. maybe you should’ve stayed home. once class ended, mark started putting everything in his backpack, grabbing his wrist to stop him, he turned towards you with his eyebrows up in question and surprise.

‘can i borrow your notes mark? please? i literally had no idea what was going on since i was late’ you were practically begging at this point, but before you could grow any more desperate, mark chuckled and handed you his notebook for this class that continued to lay on the table.

‘i guess you beat me to it, why do you think i left my notebook out?’ mark smiled and handed you the red, worn out notebook. you let out a thankful sigh, some weight lifting off your shoulders, your standards were fucked by now.

‘thank you so much mark, i really owe you one, i’ll have it back to you by tomorrow.’ you reassured, giving him a genuine, thankful smile.

later that evening, back at your apartment, you took mark’s notebook out from your backpack. you had finished all the work for the classes you did attend today and now it was time to move on to the bane of your existence. opening up his notebook to find the most recent entry, your eyes finally landed on notes about dante’s inferno and whatever gibberish the professor was spewing when you showed up. reading about the layers of hell and how it has to do with the other epic’s was further explained by mark in his notes. flipping the page, your eyes caught something in the corner. taking a closer look, you sat up from the couch and moved towards the light. you gasped upon seeing what was written, erased, and written and erased again over the left side of the page. poorly drawn hearts with the words ‘sleepyhead’ written inside littered the far left corner of mark’s notes. this surely wasn’t about you… could it? you singled out the piece of paper, moving it into the light in order to see through it, double-checking your suspicions. and sure enough, there they were clear as day. it looked as though mark drew them on the paper and had tried his hardest to erase them, yet still somewhat visible, you didn’t have four eyes for nothing after all. ‘fuck’ you cursed out, staring at the faded drawing and words. this was your own personal inferno.

the next day was like no other, barely any sleep and when you woke on time you contemplated not going at all. however, you promised you’d bring mark his cursed notebook back. the very notebook that had been plaguing your mind since you discovered its hidden contents last night. that's what kept you up so late, you couldn’t simply forget about it and let it go. you debated asking him about it, but if it had nothing to do with you, then you’d probably have to change your name, face, and leave the country all together. but after all how many people did he call ‘sleepyhead’… probably 5, max. you had to investigate, test the waters and see what this was truly all about. you had to come up with a plan.

you got up and started walking around your room, getting ready, you put a lot more effort into your outfit, jean shorts and a cute baby t-shirt you think would catch any person’s attention. walking to class, it was brisk, the wind nipping at your arms and legs. you shuddered, bringing your hands up and down in order to try to redistribute your warmth. you finally got to class and the nervousness had taken over your system, totally forgetting about the cold and now terrified to face your friend. your body shook, shuffling to your seat, seeing mark on his phone waiting for class to start. you let out a tense breath, trying to settle your uneasy heart and stomach. you pulled out the chair, startling the boy next to you, his soft hair jumping slightly and moving away from his face, his eyes shining up at you. his mouth curls into a smile, going from ear to ear, it was infectious, you gave him a small smile back despite your stomach churning in the worst way possible.

‘you finally decided to come to class on time’ he joked, poking your shoulder lightly.

you playfully rolled your eyes at him, getting everything out for class ‘i barely even slept last night, i closed my eyes, and then boom my alarm was going off…’

mark’s smile faltered and eventually dropped upon hearing your confession of getting little sleep. ‘by the way,’ you grabbed the wretched notebook from your bag, handing it to mark, ‘here’s your notebook back, the notes really helped, thank you’

mark took it from your hand, ‘it’s no problem, if you need any more you can always ask’

you smiled, and turned towards the front of the class as soon as the professor walked in. putting any thoughts of mark in the back of your mind and bringing forth your plan. every once in a while you could arrive late, it's not like you’d be penalized for missing class, your professor never took notice. it would just be on you if you never showed up and somehow failed the semester. but with marks help, there was no way you could fall that far behind.

over the next couple of days, you and mark would hang out sporadically, studying together or watching movies. after a couple of days, you finally decided it would be time to try and be late to class again. to be fair, you had an essay to start that was due in two days, so staying up and working on it and accidentally sleeping in would be the perfect excuse. silently hoping this wasn’t going to come back and bite you in the ass.

flash forward to the next day: it did. you woke up with only 30 minutes left of class, less than what you originally wanted. thankfully, you did finish the cursed essay at four in the morning, you woke up to your alarm blaring, not even realizing how many times you snoozed it. grabbing your phone from the night stand you stretched and got up, getting changed for class and heading out.

opening up your messages you internally groaned, seeing about five messages from mark reading:

‘dude, where are you??’

‘no way you overslept again( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;)⁭’

‘don’t worry sleepyhead, i’m taking notes for you’

‘also, the professor mentioned a project and let us pick partners’

‘i told her you were my partner .. if that’s okay •⩊•’

you squealed into your hoodie sleeve, trying to keep a hold on yourself, but this was too much, the cute aggression getting to you so bad you punched the air. after getting some weird looks you hurried to class, slipping through the big double doors you immediately spotted the brown haired boy, silently cheering that no one was sitting with him you moved towards him and your seat. once you made yourself known to his presence, he gave you a small smile that made your heart crescendo, brought on by the growing feeling of love coming to a climax.

‘hey’ he whispered beside you, keeping his eyes on the professor who continued to lecture.

‘hey’ you answered back.

‘late again?’ he tsked, shaking his head slightly, ‘what am i gonna do with you?’

your hand covered your mouth, trying to hold back a giggle, ‘i stayed up later than i should’ve last night, i had an essay to finish’

‘oh, of course,’ he slide his notebook to you, ‘i got some notes for you about today’s lecture and about the project. we should plan on when to meet up to work on it… the professor has been ranting about plato for the last hour, so you haven’t missed much’

you nodded and grabbed his notebook and slid it into your backpack, trying not to show much nervousness over such a simple gesture. once class ended mark turned to you.

‘i have to meet with johnny, so i’ll catch you later’ you nodded and he smiled, his lopsided lips curling up complimented his boyish charm, making your insides twist and turn. ‘i’ll text you later about the project’

he moved to grab his backpack from the floor, without thinking you grabbed his shoulder softly, he whipped his head around, eyes now wide from the sudden touch, backpack forgotten. ‘uh-h, ha-ave a good day mark’ you said, giving him an innocent smile. his features immediately softened, that tender smile coming back on his lips.

you let go, watching him stand up from his seat, now staring up at his gorgeous face, ‘you too, pillow poet’

the new nickname felt like whiplash, like a 20 car pile up in your heart, every emotion crashing into each other, hard to make it out alive. glued to your seat, you stared at nothing now, the ghost of where mark once stood. you didn’t move until your professor knocked on your desk, promptly telling you to get the hell out.

later that night you had to build up the courage to actually open up mark’s notebook this time, his texts blowing up your phone going left unanswered. your roommate, yeri, had came back from class and asked why the hell you were staring at a closed notebook on the coffee table in the shared living room.

you sighed, ‘its complicated’

she dropped her bag and deadpanned, lips formed into a straight line as she rolled her eyes, ‘its a notebook’

you dropped your head into your hands, admitting defeat, ‘it’s not about the notebook,’ you sighed dramatically, pouting, ‘it’s about what’s inside…’

yeri gave you another eye roll and moved towards you, grabbing the notebook from the coffee table, she opened it and started flipping through the different pages, you looked up after hearing the rustling of pages, ‘it’s just notes!’ she cried.

you groaned and stood up, now facing her. you grabbed the notebook out of her hands, you found the most recent section of notes and scanned the pages, chest beating profusely. you stopped once you finally found what your heart was searching for, half erased hearts with various words inside, you took the page closer to the light on the ceiling.

‘sleepyhead’ ‘cutie’ ‘bedbug’ okay, not that cute, but the sentiment was still present.

yeri, now questioning if you really had lost it or not, grew concerned. ‘what is it?’ she moved closer to you, trying to decipher what it was you were so intently looking at. you grabbed her by the arm and brought her closer to you, nodding up to where you were holding the paper in the light, ‘look’.

‘y/n, what the hell am i looking at? stop being weird, it’s freaking me out’ she pouted and took a closer look.

‘mark…’ you trailed off, ‘i found them last week, i asked to borrow his notes because i was late to class, and he drew all these things and looked like he tried to erase them… i don’t know, oh my god, i sound crazy’ you handed the notebook to her and went to sit on the couch again and grovel.

yeri stood near the light, doing the same thing you were and tried to find what you were talking about, ‘oh’ she said, lowering the notebook and moving over to you, ‘do you think these are about you?’

‘i don’t know, if they were don’t you think he would be trying to hide it better? but how many people does he know that are late to class and oversleep!?’ you cried.

yeri’s eyebrows crease in deep thought, then it hits her, ‘maybe… he wanted you to find them’

‘why couldn’t he just tell me all of this himself?’ you questioned, second-guessing everything.

‘i’ve only met mark a handful of times and let me tell you,’ she placed her hand on your shoulder, ‘he is the most awkward person, ever, this could just be his way of flirting’

you didn’t say anything and continued to stare at your roommate, still standing with mark’s notebook. ‘you should talk to him about it’ she said, you stood up abruptly, eyes going wide.

‘no way dude, i can’t’ you tried justifying yourself but yeri cut you off.

‘ugh’ she groaned, ‘i forgot you are almost as awkward as he is, you like him though, don’t you?’ you gave her a little nod, embarrassed by the sudden interrogation. ‘next time you see him, just ask him about it, the worst thing he can do is say no and you both move on with your life, just a little misunderstanding’

you sighed and nodded again, agreeing to ask him about it so yeri would get off your back. you grabbed your phone, knowing mark had texted you earlier you finally decided to bite the bullet and answer him. four messages from mark went unread:

‘y/n, will you be free tomorrow to work on the project?’

‘y/nnn where did you go, i know you are awake’

‘or are you? smh, damn sleepyhead’ your mind screamed ‘AGAIN WITH THE NICKNAMES’

‘u better not be late tomorrow, i can only take so much european writing without you ( •̀ - •́ )’

you wrote and deleted your message to him about ten times before settling on a basic:

‘sorry mark! i (surprisingly) did not fall asleep, just talking with my roommate, i should be free tomorrow to start the project („• ֊ •„)’

three text bubbles popped up and he immediately texted back

‘gr8, c u tomorrow, get some rest’

the next day was an off day from classes, you and mark had discussed meeting somewhere in the library. but that would hinder you from asking him about his little drawings so you told him to come to your apartment, perfect knowing yeri would not be there. yet, it was as imperfect as perfect could get, the setting would be right, but your thoughts were all over the place. not planning out how this could go, most, if not all of your ‘plans’ were half-assed. you’d just have to wing it this one time.

mark showed up when he said he would, which was exactly a mark thing to do, you were just unprepared. stressing out as the minutes counted down, you opened the door and let him inside, he smiled and walked towards the couch, placing his things on the coffee table. ‘shall we get started?’ mark said, motioning for you to sit down next to him.

‘so, the project is over any story of our choosing, did you have one in mind?’ he asked, turning towards you on the couch. fuck, he was so close, you could feel his hot breath on your cheek, it smelled like mint and coffee.

‘oh yeah, i thought we could do icarus’ you answered, hoping he would agree, the story just hitting a little too close to home right now. in a sense, mark was your sun, and you were icarus, flying a bit too close every time you were near him. getting burned with reaching to conclusions that he actually liked you, getting your hopes up that he felt the same way, hoping to not fall to your death and lose him as a friend if this all was just a misunderstanding.

‘that's a great idea! i think we should be able to get through this project quickly with all the information we can get on the story’ he beamed, and you smiled back, slightly faltering from the nervousness running through your body.

‘are you okay? you seem out of it…’ he asked, more so concerned with you than the project.

you sighed, terrible at keeping your emotions from coming out, mark took notice to your anxious behavior. it was now or never. ‘mark’ you said his name like you both were already in a relationship and about to give him the ‘we need to break up talk’, you could tell he felt the exact same when he started fidgeting beside you. ‘can i ask you about something?’

‘of course, anything’ he answered, voice wavering in concern. you knew he was staring but you couldn’t even bring yourself to look anywhere in his direction, fearing that if you did, you would chicken out. you mentally screamed at yourself to stop and not do anything to jeopardize your friendship with mark. you had to remind yourself ‘the worst he could do is say no’.

‘oh, by the way, i forgot to ask, do you have my notebook?’ you could tell mark was trying to ease the tension, but because of the mention of that damn notebook, it only made it worse.

‘yeah about that…’ you started, having no idea how to ask about this, ‘i uh, wanted to ask you about something i saw in your notebook…’

mark, tilted his head to the side in confusion, ‘like some of the notes i left? i tried to be as thorough as i could…’

you picked at the skin on your fingers, ripping away the flesh in order to try and calm yourself down, ‘erm, no, something else i saw… some, um, drawings…’ you wished for nothing but this couch to swallow you whole and never spit you back out. you couldn’t tell what mark’s reaction was since you refused to look at him, but the silence gave you more answers than what you initially asked.

you peeked to the side, mark now had his head in his hands, rubbing his temple, cheeks dusted pink, you knew you caught him in something. ‘dude… this is so embarrassing’ he laughed. you didn’t say anything in response, just wanting him to continue explaining himself. ‘i thought i erased those, oh my god. how much did you see?’ he asked.

‘i think almost all of them…’ you rubbed the back of your neck, picking at the hair back there.

‘oh’ he said, his mouth turning into a perfect o. ‘that was not the way i wanted to tell you’ mark stated, still acting shy next to you. if you weren’t on the verge of a panic attack, it would’ve been endearing.

‘tell me what?’ you whispered, turning away from him so he wouldn’t notice the pink dusting over your cheeks.

mark stared at you, now sitting up and his shoulders straight, ‘that um, that i like you’ he said, ‘i don’t know i got bored in class and doodled in my notes, after i realized how stupid and cheesy it felt i erased them and tried to forget… guess i didn’t erase them hard enough’ he smiled at the memories of it all. ‘i wanted to tell you, but i didn’t know how to go about it, i’m not good at things like this, i don’t know, confessing i guess… i wasn’t sure if you felt the same, so that’s why every time i tried to tell you i liked you, my plans always fell through’

mark grabbed your shoulders and lightly forced you to face him, taken back by surprise your ears grew hot, now staring into his eyes he smiled, ‘but you’re here now and asking about my lovesick doodles, and i want to tell you… that i like you… i like you so much y/n, studying with you and being with you in class and outside of class, you are cute, funny, caring, and you work so hard for your classes i wish i had the will to stay up at ungodly hours to finish any of my essays, we like the same books and we talk about the nerdiest stuff no one else would… i think you’re perfect’. he stopped, his eyes looking into yours trying to search for any reaction, he looked desperate. ‘sorry, i, uh, got a little carried away there’ he cheeks bloomed into a deep red.

‘mark’ you felt wetness pool at the base of your eyes and roll down your cheeks, not even realizing you were crying mark reached out and whipped the tears away with his thumb. ‘i really like you too… that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me i-’ he cut you off, throwing himself onto you in a huge bear hug, making your back crash into the couch due to the weight now on you.

he got up, now hovering over you, he stared deeply into your eyes, ‘y/n… i want us to be a couple or something? whatever you are comfortable with, i want to be able to read you any stupid 100 year old story any time you’ll let me’

your eyes softened, gazing into his it was like a thousand stars shining in the night sky, you could see and feel every emotion he was talking about. pure love. there was no doubt, no sun to scorch your waxed wings, withstanding fear and questioning. with him you could now fly as far as he would take you.

‘oh mark’ you said breathlessly, throwing your arms around his neck, yanking him down so his lips could meet yours. it took a second for him to realize what was happening, but soon enough he was moving his lips in synch with yours. his hand still placed next to your head, holding himself up, as his other one moved to your face to lightly caress your cheek. after a minute or two, you could barely breathe, so you broke the kiss in order to regulate your breathing. you look up at mark, who continued to stare at your lips, ‘mark, you’re the one who is perfect’

this time he initiated the kiss, putting his body weight more on you, his hand now moving to explore your body further, you could tell mark was excited as you could feel his bulge on your thigh. his tongue licked over your lips, silently asking for access, which you granted immediately, letting your tongue slip into his mouth, tasting the mint and coffee that he had previously consumed.

‘mark’ you whispered, lust overclouding your senses, ‘i want you’

mark audibly groaned, your words obviously having a certain effect on him as he pushed his hips into yours making you moan in response. he kissed your lips again, moving onto your neck, sucking brusies into the sensitive skin there. mark got off of you and sat up, removing his shirt to which you followed, throwing the clothing somewhere on the floor. going back into position, mark kissed your chest, grazing your breast that was still covered by your bra. he didn’t mind, wanting you to be as comfortable as possible, that was until you decided to take it off anyways, throwing it somewhere over your shoulder. mark went back to work, sucking on one nipple, while twirling and pinching the other between his fingers, earning moans from you.

mark suddenly stopped, lifting his head to look at you, ‘do you want to go further?’ he asked sincerely.

‘yes, mark, please’ you breathed, curling your fingers around his broad shoulders, lightly bringing him back towards your chest. he chuckled at your eagerness, peppering kisses down your stomach, finally reaching your buttoned up jeans. ‘can i take these off?’ you nodded, he unbuttoned your jeans and yanked them down and off, leaving them on the floor with the rest of the clothes. he could see the wet patch that formed in your underwear, earning a moan from the boy on top of you. mark ghosted over the spot with his finger, making you twitch in response due to the light, yet scandalous action.

he slid your underwear off, leaving them somewhere on the couch. you watched him silently as he stared at your core, looking like a man who had been without water for at least a century. he dove in, licking a strip up your pussy, making you moan out in response. mark continued to lightly suck, adding a finger into the mix. he slowly pushed it inside your opening, wetness gathering at the base of his finger, ‘you taste… it’s perfect… you’re perfect’ he whispered, gazing up into your glossy eyes, overtaken by craving him. he added a second finger, stretching you out. ‘mark…’ you groaned, feeling him hit the sweet spot inside of you made your head spin and insides twist. ‘i’m gonna come…’

‘not yet’ he whispered, he exited your core, earning a whimper from you due to the sudden loss, ‘don’t worry, i’ll take care of you’ he kissed your cheek, standing up from the couch in order to take his own pants off. you could see his member throbbing inside his briefs, you swore you almost started drooling. mark came back down to lay on top of you, kissing you again, more sensibly, softly, slowly. savoring the moment with you, the delicate and gentle touches almost making you cry again from just how sweet he was, how much he showed that he cared about you.

he broke the kiss, you stared into his eyes, caressing his cheek gently, mark melted into your touch, closing his eyes and burying his face closer to your grasp. ‘you are so beautiful’ you stated to him. his skin kissed by the sun, the features adorning his face; making up gorgeous art on a blank canvas that someone like da vinci would be furious not to know of such beauty.

‘do you want to keep going? we don’t have to if you don’t want to, i want to take my time with you, with us…’ he explained.

you cut him off with a peck to his lips, making his smile grow wider, ‘yes, i want to if you do… i feel the same way’ he kissed you, much like you did with him, confirming his feelings yet again.

he slid off his briefs, leaving you both fully naked in each other's presence, since the sun had started to set when mark came over the only light provided was the soft glow of the lamp behind you on the side table, making the sweat that graced his chest shine. ‘if you get uncomfortable please let me know and i’ll stop’ he whispered, you nodded in response, heartbeat picking up due to his kindness. he sighed and carefully lined his member up with your entrance, the shakiness of his hands having him try a couple of times to get it in, you could tell he was nervous.

he slowly pushed inside, giving you ample time to adjust, ‘that’s it’ he breathed in your ear once fully inside, ‘fuck you’re so tight… so perfect’ you moaned at his words, digging so far deep into you and leaving many traces in your mind, words you’d never forget. he readjusts your legs, giving him deep access into your womb, now in a missionary position. mark started moving, slowly thrusting into you at first, you wrapped your legs around his back, trying to keep him as close as possible, which he didn’t seem to mind. his lips moved to yours, the simple kisses shared spoke volumes-no hesitation, the pastel feeling of everything you both never said to each other, lost on fleeting glances in class, heart doodles on paper, and the way he would read to you without argument, buying you coffee, smiling whenever you’d enter the room. the soft kisses subdued any fear you held over this relationship. you loved him.

mark occasionally groaned into your mouth, and in return you moaned, sharing sounds and soft touches over each other's body. ‘you’re taking me so well like you were made for me. fuuck’ he keened at the way you held him inside. he started moving faster, but still acting as careful as ever with you. his hips snapped down on yours, earning strained grunts from you, head spinning as he continued to hit your sweet spot in all the right ways. ‘y/n’ mark moaned, ‘i-i love you’. you cried, the barrier breaking open the flood waters, you silently shed tears into his shoulder, the hot tears running down his arm and chest. ‘i always have, e-ever since i met you’ his trusts started growing erratic, faster, snapping his hips into yours with a force that had you seeing stars. you could barely comprehend any type of language at this point. you were about to reach your breaking point, feeling the heat collect at the bottom of your abdomen, the rope you were holding onto ready to snap.

mark seemed to take notice due to your internal struggle of letting go, mumbling in your ear about a bunch of different phrases. ‘it’s okay baby, you can let go’ and ‘come for me’, it was at the point where he whispered ‘i got you love, i got you’ you felt yourself starting to slip from the rope, letting go and the rope snapped, letting it all out and moaning out marks name, locking your eyes on his. your toes curled, body threatening to collapse in on itself like a black hole with mark at the event horizon, wanting to suck him in.

as you tightened around him, his thrust grew more sporadic, out of rhythm, trying to catch his own release now. with one last thrust, he stilled and emptied into your womb, you could feel how deep he was and the hotness of his come filling you up so perfectly. mark panted, overcoming the mountain of exhaustion after reaching his peak. his forehead fell onto yours as you also tried catching your breath. mark smiled down at you, love filling his eyes, adoration shining in yours. ‘you’ he started, regulating his words to come out more clearly, ‘you are part of my existence, part of myself. you have been in every line i have ever read’

you playfully rolled your eyes, the audacity of this english major, ‘you did not just quote charles dickens while balls deep inside of me’

he laughed, as if that was a queue to pull out, mark left his place inside of you and went to the bathroom, returning with a damp wash cloth in order to clean you up. gently whipping you down, after he threw the towel into the laundry room. mark picked you up and walked you to your room, slowly slipping you into some fresh new clothes, while he put on clothes that yeri kept at the apartment for her boyfriend. surely she wouldn’t mind.

you both climbed into bed, eyelids growing heavy he held you in his arms, head resting against his chest in the quiet darkness, ‘mark’ you said, voice small, he hummed, ‘i love you too’

‘sleep in tomorrow, i’ll still be here’ he answered.

eyes crusted over and limbs numb, that was probably the best sleep of your life. you reached over to marks side of the bed, but it was empty, and you frowned. he said he would be here. you stretched and got up, slowly making your way towards the door, you opened it to an empty living room. you heard a sudden, but low crash of pots and pans coming from the kitchen. you walked slowly, not really knowing what to expect. but alas, speak of the muse, and he shall appear in the lines, your (now) boyfriend, mark, stood in front of the oven with a spatula in hand, flipping a pancake.

in the stillness of the afternoon, you didn’t make your presence yet known, and watched as he worked. the glow of the sun and the kitchen light reflected off of his hair ever so slightly, making it shine, it was as if only you two existed. he turned and smiled like he always did, ‘good morning sleepyhead’

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nikovraskol · 6 months ago

Note

so with the crack baby, what if the og timeline finds their phone?? Like they're going through it and seeing their whole life and achievements, maybe even the notes app with all their thoughts and feelings..

Ohhhh and then the 2nd timeline sneaking into their room and finding all those trophies?? Damian being forced to recognize that maybe his sibling does have some sort of brain..

masterlist

keep the requests coming gang i'm trying to procrasinate the next chapter

i imagine like dick just sat in your room, literally over anylysing everything just to get a peek at the kind of person you were outside of the nervous, starry-eyed youthling who'd trail behind him and then he stumbles upon your phone.

literal jackpot, he guesses your password on the third try because he put in your birthday (how careless), and he goes through EVERY app. he goes through your social media, your games, he even goes through your ubereats app to see what kind of food you like!

he goes through your notes app and it's just essays upon essays how you feel a suffocating cavity in your chest or how you want to get closer to them, how you want them to look back and then as the notes progress and you get older, hitting the eighteen mark, how you loath them.

he sighs, sighs again before sending some notes about how cool you think your family is and how you want to spend time with them to himself, and then he finally shows the others.

each of them respectively crying throwing up, analysing every single thing you've said, oh you misspelled something? noted. you accidentally forgot to you the correct tense? noted. you put in a shopping list in between your rants? noted.

i imagine them literally ANNOTATING your emotions (LMAO), they just want to understand you, they have nothing to remember you by, no face, no memories, nothing of the real you.

so sure, while it hurts to read about how you wish you could scrub yourself clean of bruce's dna, it's nice to read about you.

and they will, obviously, print out every selfie you've ever took. any group photos will be cropped, they'll hang up your pictures everywhere, like a guest comes over and there's just a massive, framed picture of you smiling at the camera with a bunch of cropped heads around you. OR you in school, like a massive grin on your face as you do something mischevious but it's kind of blurry and also there's a massive red X on the person besides you.

as for the second timeline, i think this is really interesting -- especially because you're trying to mind your business, live your life, maybe you went out for a walk and you're tired, eager to get to bed.

so you walk in your room and, well, your whole family's just sprawled around your box room, your medals and trophies scattered about as they each take it in deeply.

"i wasn't aware you were so profficient at science." damian adresses you, staring at an obnoxiously bright 'first place!' certificate in his hands, your name sprawled across it. how unexpected, perhaps you're not as useless as you seem. no, this is high-school level so sure, he's impressed, but he doubts bioenergetics will help you in the real world, aka, the vigilante occupation, aka, something you will NEVER try.

tim is assessing all the dates, "you did these both at the same time? ..impressive." he nods towards you, and you have to physically stop yourself from cringing. like, sure, 10 years ago you'd be running up the walls at this attention. but you're tired! and completely uninterested now that you've grown up.

"can you guys fu--" you're cut off by bruce putting a hand on your shoulder and nodding, subtly trying to hide the fact that he's having alfred lug all the pictures of you on podiums or on stage into his room. you just look so cute :( if he ignores the way your eyes are gleaming with tears or how you're the only one without a parent standing behind you.

jason lurking around, an unnaturally soft expression as he watches videos of you singing as a youthling -- you have to stop yourself from viscerally reacting AGAIN. why is he even here? he doesn't live here! speaking of people who don't live here--

"wow! why didn't you tell me you like gymnastics? i would've loved to support you! dick smiles, tracing the lines on your medal with the utmost care.

"i did tell you, you didn't care -- in fact, one time you promised me you'd come to my tournament but obviously didn't show up, i cried so hard i was disqualified."

"... i don't like this game anymore."

#dc fanfiction #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #platonic batfam #yandere bruce wayne #batman x reader #platonic yandere batfam #yandere batman #platonic yandere dick grayson #yandere dick grayson #platonic dick grayson x reader #platonic bruce wayne x reader #batfam #me when

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monserelates · 18 days ago

Text

Clueless Idiots ; James Potter.

⇨f!reader x james potter

⇨summary: Just Y/N and James being clueless little cuties.

⇨warnings/notes: fluff fluff fluff fluffy fluff, use of y/n, reader is female, she and james are really oblivious

⇨a/n: once again with my favorite trope 🥹, I just love writing about James and writing fluff. If you guys have any requests you can definitely share them i’d be really grateful! Hope you enjoy <3

There were very few constants at Hogwarts.

One: Filch’s cat was always watching.

Two: The fourth step on the Charms staircase would always try to eat your foot.

And three: James Potter and Y/N Y/L/N were practically glued at the hip.

It wasn’t official. Of course not. Because nothing was ever that easy with the two of them. They were best friends, partners-in-crime, even, and the subject of at least two weekly betting pools run by both the Gryffindor Common Room and the Hogwarts staff lounge.

“Oh, come on,” McGonnagall muttered behind her teacup one morning as the pair entered the Great Hall, James slinging his arm over Y/N’s shoulder, Y/N stealing a bit of toast from his plate without blinking. “If he tucks her hair behind her ear one more time, I’m raising my bet to ten Galleons.”

Dumbledore sipped his coffee, smiling fondly. “They remind me of a young Lily and James.”

“They are James and—never mind.”

“Minerva,” Sprout said gently, “they’re teenagers. You can’t force these things.”

“I’m not forcing anything. I’m simply pointing out that if they don’t confess by Valentine’s Day, I’m deducting points for excessive obliviousness.”

Meanwhile, back at the Gryffindor table:

“Do you think I’d look good with a moustache?” James asked, munching on bacon.

Y/N wrinkled her nose. “What kind of question is that?”

“You didn’t say no.”

“I’m saying absolutely not. You’d look like an undercover Auror going through a midlife crisis.”

James grinned. “So… no moustache.”

“Not if you want me to keep sitting next to you.”

He paused for half a second—half a second too long—and then laughed.

She didn’t notice. Or at least she pretended not to.

Sirius, sitting across from them, rolled his eyes so hard he nearly fell off the bench. “You two are unbearable.”

Remus didn’t look up from his book. “It’s like watching two penguins try to flirt by throwing fish at each other.”

“Penguins?”

“Very monogamous creatures,” Remus said. “Mate for life.”

Y/N blinked. “That’s oddly sweet.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

James reached for more toast and brushed her hand accidentally. Their eyes locked for one second too long.

Sirius groaned into his pumpkin juice.

⸻

Later that day, the pair was in the library, sharing one textbook, their knees brushing under the table. Y/N didn’t flinch. James did. Barely. Just enough to notice.

“Did you finish your Potions essay?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he lied.

“You’re lying.”

“Yeah,” he admitted.

She snorted. “Come on, Potter, focus.”

“You said my last one was ‘shockingly decent.’ That’s high praise.”

“I meant its like a shocked cat watching fireworks, but sure.”

He grinned.

They were so close, heads bent together, she could see the tiny freckle beneath his left eye. He smelled like broomstick polish and cinnamon.

She looked away first.

⸻

That weekend, they sat together at the Ravenclaw versus Slytherin quidditch match, they had bet 10 galleons that Ravenclaw will win—James with one arm slung lazily around the back of her seat, Y/N leaning into his side to shout over the noise.

“Ten more points and we win!”

“I’ll take you to Honeydukes if we do!”

“You always take me to Honeydukes!”

“Then I’ll buy you everything in the front window.”

“Even the sugar quills?”

“Especially the sugar quills.”

Lily leaned over to Marlene. “Do you think they know they’re flirting?”

Marlene raised an eyebrow. “Do you think Hogsmeade knows they’re flirting?”

⸻

Later, as the Gryffindors spilled back into the common room, James and Y/N flopped onto the couch together. James didn’t hesitate before pulling her legs into his lap.

“Oi, Y/N,” he said, grinning, “you ever going to tell me your type?”

She sipped her butterbeer. “I don’t have one.”

“Liar.”

“Okay, fine. I like boys who are funny. And brave. And maybe a little too loyal for their own good.”

His smile faltered for half a second.

“And,” she added, “he’d have to care a lot. Like… secretly-loves-dogs, picks-flowers-he-won’t-admit-to, remembers-how-I-take-my-tea kind of caring.”

He blinked.

“Oh.”

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

Remus, passing behind the couch, muttered, “I swear to Merlin, if one of you doesn’t kiss the other in the next forty-eight hours, I’m hexing both of you into next week.”

"What's that, moony?" You asked, oblivious.

"Oh, nothing. I was just talking to myself,"

⸻

Back in the staff lounge, the betting board had been updated:

“Confession before Halloween – 3 Galleons”

“Caught kissing in a broom closet – 5 Galleons”

“They still don’t know they’re in love – priceless”

“I’m changing my bet,” Sprout said cheerfully. “Two Galleons on Y/N realizing first.”

“I say it’s Potter,” said Slughorn. “He’s been writing her name in his notes for months.”

McGonagall smirked. “I’ll double it if it’s her who kisses him.”

⸻

That night, as the fire crackled low and the common room emptied out, James stretched.

“I should go to bed.”

Y/N didn’t move. “’Night, James.”

But he didn’t go.

Instead, he leaned down slowly, close enough for her to see the freckles on his nose and the look in his eyes.

“Goodnight, Y/N.

She blinked.

For a second, she thought he was going to kiss her.

For a second, she almost let him.

But then—

He straightened up, ruffled her hair, and walked off to the boys’ dorms.

And she sat there, heart thudding, cursing the universe and every stupid bet McGonagall was definitely winning.

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vibelladonna · 2 months ago

Text

❛ 𝑔𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 ❜ 𝜗𝜚 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝓍 𝑔𝓃!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Half a brutal week of finals, your idea of short recovery is simple: horror games, dim lights, and your boyfriend Sol breathing in your ear through voice chat like he isn’t actively trying to ruin your focus. It was supposed to be just another cursed indie night — you, the monster, and a few well-aimed insults...

...until Sol’s reactions hijack the match entirely. One death screen, one whispered apology, and one desperate Discord call later, and suddenly you’re the one getting hunted — not by pixelated nightmares, but by your very real, very flushed, very wrecked boyfriend begging for your attention like his life depends on it. Turns out, surviving finals was the easy part.

…Surviving him? Yeah, good luck with that.

𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉: soooo, on April 7th, while I was supposed to be studying for my psych and chem midterms, I stumbled across some [ art ] by @bonw0n — and yeah, I was this close to dropping everything to write this immediately. I behaved… mostly. Might’ve snuck a few "study breaks" to get some of it out. I’ve seen others write for this request too, so here’s my take — hope you love it, dearest.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions.

𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓈: sol x gn! reader, smut, masturbation, voyeurism, mutual pining, voice kink, begging, desperate sol, one-sided voice chat (at first), tension so thick you could choke on it, accidentally turning him on, slight corruption kink if you squint, dirty thoughts two idiots falling harder than they realize, and sol is down bad and it’s so funny.

April is hell for college students. fucking tell me about...

Anyone who says otherwise has either dropped out, is lying, or majors in something unserious like something dumb—underwater basket weaving.

It’s exam season—a month-long bloodbath where coffee becomes a food group, sleep is theoretical, and your notes look like they were written by a madman mid-breakdown. You’ve been living in libraries, buried in color-coded flashcards and PDF textbooks you don’t even remember downloading. Your backpack weighs more than your will to live, and your playlist? Just sad lo-fi beats and the occasional mental breakdown.

But you did it.

You clawed your way through a few of your finals already, each one more cursed than the last. You turned in essays with hands that felt like claws, circled scantron bubbles like your life depended on it. And when the last “Submit” button was pressed today—you didn’t cry.

You almost did. But instead, you stared at your ceiling for twenty minutes contemplating existence… then decided to not kill yourself with another night of studying.

Tonight? You earned a break. And your poison of choice?

Well, overall, after exams, most people do one of three things:

Talk about the exam like it was a shared war trauma.

Vanish the second time’s up—those lucky bastards just evaporate into thin air.

Crash into bed, possibly start crying because of overthinking. Bonus points if you start crashing out.

Then there’s the rest—out at some crusty frat party, doing keg stands like their brain cells aren’t already on life support. Or sparking up until they’re spiritually ascending, eyes redder than the F they just got in psych stats. But not you.

Oh no, you? You’ve got taste. Elegance.

Horror Video Games.

And not the cute, fluffy kind either. You’re not out here playing some "build your dream town" simulator, collecting adorable animals with quirky little personalities who talk about their feelings. Nope, not you. You're not clicking through endless dialogue trees in a visual novel where every decision leads to either a hug or a heartbroken confession—though, let's be real, you’ve totally dipped your toes in those a couple of times. It's fine. No one's judging.

But nope, you're deep in the muck of horror. The darker, the better.

The more twisted, morally questionable, and "I probably shouldn't be playing this at 2 AM" the story is? That's the kind of game you're downloading like it’s got a bill overdue. You don’t need to sip on some overpriced vodka. You don’t need to hit the vape and pretend you’re too cool for life.

What you need is pure, unfiltered psychological trauma in 1080p.

Forget a chill evening—you want to feel like your mind might short-circuit at any second. You need the cozy glow of your LED lights bleeding across a desk littered with energy drinks and half-functioning headphones. You need your haunted little playlist of indie nightmares and "this game is banned in 12 countries" storylines.

This is your version of therapy. Replacing exam stress with the emotional damage of a pixelated ghost child whispering from behind a locked door.

There’s just something magical about sinking into your chair like a sentient blanket burrito, headset on, game booted up, and letting the real world dissolve into static.

Just you, the dark, and whatever fresh hell is waiting around the next virtual corner to emotionally ruin you. Again.

That was all you could think about during your god-awful fifty-minute-long lectures—well, that and how your professor’s voice sounded like someone chewing chalk while reading a textbook aloud. Especially on your longer days, where it felt like your brain was actively trying to escape through your ears or your eyes get heavy—despite sitting right up front of the class you deadass fall asleep in the middle of lecture…

Still, you powered through. Took notes. Faked interest. Dodged a group project like it owed you money. You even hit the library for a hot minute, pretended to be productive, and then finally dragged yourself back to your dorm like a half-dead NPC on a quest for salvation.

First stop? Food.

You threw something questionable-but-edible into the microwave leftover take out you ordered yesterday and stared at it like it held all the answers to your suffering. Greasy, hot, probably taking a year off your life, but comforting in a ‘screw it, I survived today’ kind of way.

Then came homework. Ugh.

You sat down, cracked open your laptop, and forced yourself to speed-run your assignments like you were defusing a bomb. Brain on autopilot. Tabs everywhere. Safari sounded like it was about to take off with your laptop. But you got it done—somehow. Whether your answers make sense? Always, make sure to check everything before you turn in, timestamp and all.

Then finally—finally—you hit the shower.

The hot water came down like it had a personal vendetta, absolutely obliterating your stress, your regrets, and possibly your skin barrier. You just stood there, letting it scald you like a rotisserie chicken, steam turning your bathroom into a sad little sauna with zero luxury but maximum existential crisis.

You hummed. You danced. You nearly slipped. You played that one song—the one you’ve been listening to on loop for days like it’s the soundtrack to your life’s fake documentary. You know, the one that starts off giving you chills and ends up giving you a migraine once your brain decides it’s time to ruin it. Classic move.

Then you stood there longer than you needed to, contemplating your next victim in the horror game queue. Real priorities.

Afterward showering, you did your usual post shower routine then you pulled on your favorite set—something soft and chill but definitely showing more skin than necessary. But who were you trying to impress? No one. You just liked how your blanket felt better that way. Priorities.

Besides, the whole point was to feel the warmth of your blanket better. You wrapped yourself in it, a cozy cocoon, and sank into your gamer chair, legs tucked beneath you, heart already settling into that familiar rhythm.

Your desk was a beautiful kind of chaos—lived-in, deliberate, curated for comfort and carnage. At the center of it all stood your mid-sized monitor, propped on a stack of mismatched textbooks like some sacred relic. It bathed the room in soft, moody colors, its screen already alive with the eerie flicker of the horror game’s menu.

Game boxes were stacked like grim little trophies on your shelves, each one a memory of a night spent half-screaming and half-laughing, usually with Sol on the other end.

Twisted monster figurines stared blankly from their perches, arranged meticulously from “mildly unsettling” to “this one gave me a complex.” And the posters? Cult-classic psychological thrillers and cursed films—tattered at the edges, warped slightly by years of devotion. They stared back at you from the walls, their looming silhouettes shifting every time the screen flashed with static or movement.

Your gamer chair was a throne, worn-in just right—soft, broken in by years of sleepless nights and stress-fueled gaming binges. Draped across it was your oversized blanket, the one that swallowed you whole and made you feel like a cryptid rising from a cocoon. There was something sacred about that chair. It knew things. It had been with you through exam week breakdowns, existential dread marathons, and now, it was your command post.

Your controller was resting on the desk beside you, waiting.

The game was already launched, the lobby open, and your headset nestled comfortably over your ears. The built-in proximity voice chat was activated—just you and Sol in your own little bubble. The room was quiet but not silent. The faint buzz of the monitor, the gentle hum of your fan, the occasional creak of your chair when you shifted—it all became part of the ambiance.

And right on cue… Sol was already online.

His username—pumpkinlover00—pulsed softly in the game lobby like a heartbeat. Waiting. Always waiting. Same time, every night. Like a ritual. Like a promise.

There was no need for a message. No awkward small talk. No fumbling attempts at icebreakers. You two had long since passed that stage. This was muscle memory now—deadass unspoken rhythm built on laggy screams, ill-timed reloading, and the electric hum of shared adrenaline.

You reached for the controller, the soft click of your grip syncing perfectly with the moment his voice crackled through the in-game chat.

“Yo,” Sol murmured, his tone rough and low like he hadn’t spoken all day—maybe he hadn’t.

You grinned, stretching out in your throne of a chair and tugging the blanket tighter around you. “Yo yourself,” you said, thumbing through the loadout menu lazily. “By the way… when were you gonna tell me your gamertag was pumpkinlover00?”

There was a few seconds of silence.

Then, a sigh. The kind that screamed regret.

“It was a dare,” Sol said, as if that explained anything.

You snorted, already grinning as you adjusted in your seat, “Yeah, okay. But pumpkinlover00, though? Be honest. Did you also bake it a pie and whisper sweet nothings to your jack-o-lantern?”

“You keep talking and I will leave you mid-extraction,” he warned, dry as dust.

“Do it. I’ll tell everyone in the dorm that you made a shrine out of pumpkin guts and played Linkin Park while crying.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t just tell them,” you said, spinning your controller in hand with flair. “I’d make PowerPoint slides. Full color. Transitions. Soundtrack.”

He groaned, however you heard the little snort of laughter he tried to bury. Then his eyes landed on your own in-game tag floating proudly above your character’s head: DumpsterSnacc_.

“…You named yourself after trash food,” he muttered.

“Excuse me? I named myself after a rare and powerful snack born in the fires of poor life decisions and gas station cuisine. I am the forbidden flavor.”

“Sounds like you were found in the dumpster.”

“Bold talk from a guy whose username sounds like a seasonal candle from fucking grocery store.”

He laughed at that—low, sudden, genuine. “Alright, alright. Let’s see which one of us gets ghost-murdered first.”

The game flickered to life with its usual guttural startup scream, the kind that sounded like it had regrets and 3 unpaid debts. Your mission scrolled across the screen in grim text, paired with a deep voiceover that could narrate your funeral.

You selected your loadout: flashlight, flares and, of course, your unshakable sense of superiority.

“Alright, Pumpkin Spice,” you said, cracking your knuckles. “Ready to yank some haunted toaster ovens outta Satan’s basement?”

Sol chuckled. “Lead the way, Snaccrifice.”

The screen cut to black. And the horror began. Eveything loaded in with an unholy screech—part static, part radio distortion, part something that sounded like it came from a throat that shouldn’t exist.

You and Sol had just booted up the latest co-op indie horror hit: R.E.P.O. session. A physics-heavy, proximity-voice nightmare where you and a friend sneak into abandoned, rotting buildings to repossess cursed artifacts... all while being stalked by something that learns how you play.

Smart. Fast. Shapeshifting. The kind of monster that knew your patterns better than your therapist. Naturally, you both took it dead seriously. It was so serious, in fact, that your characters were dressed like absolute clowns. Literally.

You had picked grey skin with the bright neon outfit, oversized heart sunglasses, and an inflatable donut ring as a belt. Sol, not to be outdone, went full chaos: Green skin, a banana suit, and ski goggles, paired with bright orange gloves. His character model moved like a confused mall Santa.

“I swear to god,” he muttered through the proximity voice chat, distorted by digital reverb, “if we die looking like this, I’m logging off forever.”

“No you’re not. You're emotionally attached now,” you replied, confidently stomping your ridiculous pink boots toward the first hallway.

You’d already picked your roles.

You were the lead retriever—the brave idiot who runs in, grabs the cursed junk, and throws it back like it’s Black Friday at a pawn shop.

Sol? He was the cart dude—your ever-loyal partner who stayed behind just far enough to avoid immediate death, but close enough to catch whatever hell you flung his way.

He pushed the in-game collection cart behind you with janky, glitchy physics, the wheels squeaking like it was haunted by a grocery store demon. You turned around dramatically, forcing your character model to do a sudden 180.

Because the game used proximity-based voice chat, this also forced your character and Sol’s to make deep, intense eye contact. Eye contact that was only made worse by the exaggerated googly eyes stuck to your sunglasses. “Alright,” you said in your Serious Voice™, stepping forward with authority. “Game plan.”

Sol’s character nodded, “Hit me.”

“We’re hitting the west wing first. Storage room. There's an artifact in there worth at least $1800 in-game bucks. Probably cursed. Probably breathing. I’ll go in, grab it, scream if I die. You stand back, push the cart, and if something runs at you, throw it my way and run.”

There was a pause.

“That’s… that’s your plan?” he asked.

“It’s a working plan.”

“It’s a dumbass plan.”

“It’s our dumbass plan.”

You both stared in silence again, your avatars breathing heavily, noses almost touching on screen. Sol finally sighed. “I hate that I trust you.”

“I hate that I’m the brains of this operation.” You smirked, turned on your flashlight, and marched forward.

The darkness swallowed you both whole.

Behind you, the sound of a cart creaking along… and the soft jingle of a banana suit bouncing into the unknown.

You were just finishing loading a creepy little porcelain baby head into the cart—its painted eyes were scratched out and it laughed when you dropped it, so that was great—when the game's staticy radio pinged.

Incoming call.

Username: Hyugo_WasHere

You froze. So did Sol.

“No,” Sol said immediately, full volume, the word sharp enough to slice the tension. “Do not answer that.” Too late. You were already clicking accept.

The call connected with a loud, cheerful “Yooo! Pumpkin Boy! You in that haunted IKEA game?”

You grinned. “Hyugo, you tryna R.E.P.O some haunted junk with us?”

“Am I?” he said. “Am I ever. I’ve been watching Sol’s stream on Discord on mute for like ten minutes. Sol’s scream when the mannequin fell was a chef’s kiss.”

“It fell from the ceiling,” Sol hissed. “And it grabbed my shoulder. You would’ve screamed too.”

“I would’ve shot it,” Hyugo replied flatly.

Sol groaned, already defeated. “I swear to god, if he logs in—”

“He’s already at the party,” you said casually, watching the character list update.

A second later, a new player spawned in the safe zone, cyan color. And dressed like a goddamn menace. Hyugo’s avatar was in tight metallic leggings, a sparkly vest, and a jester hat with bells that jingled with every movement. His character moved with the swagger of someone who wanted to be shot first.

“Why are you like this?” Sol muttered.

“Stealth is a suggestion,” Hyugo declared, spinning in place.

“You’re going to get us murdered,” Sol added.

But you? You were already laughing. “Let’s go, Yessss, let’s go team. The ghost’s not ready.”

As the mission progressed, the building changed. Literally.

The layout shifted the deeper you went, doors that led to supply closets now opening into winding hallways, entire wings that didn’t exist in the beginning of the match suddenly sprouting up like tumors. The wallpaper pulsed. The ceilings dripped. Somewhere in the distance, something screamed like it had teeth where lungs should be.

You, Sol, and Hyugo pushed on. Slowly, methodically.

You led the charge, grabbing cursed relics and slapping them into the cart with casual violence. Sol stuck close, flashlight flickering, cart wheels creaking, muttering price estimates like a haunted appraiser.

Hyugo, despite all odds, actually helped. He wandered ahead with a scanner, pinging valuable loot and joking in proximity chat about how your footsteps sounded like wet noodles. “$1200 mirror up here,” Hyugo called once, voice crackling. “Probably possessed. Can I make it kiss itself?”

“No,” you and Sol said at the same time.

Still, you were doing fine.

The cart was getting full. The radio said Extraction Ready in 3 Items. You were winning. So, you split up briefly—Sol stayed behind with the cart while you moved into a shadowy side room to grab what looked like a golden antique camera. It was twitching in your hand as you placed it in the cart with a clang.

That’s when Sol ran in. Not walked. Not jogged.

He sprinted in like something was directly behind him, eyes wide, headset audio crackling with his panicked breath. “Gun.”

You looked up. “What?”

“Gun!” he barked again.

“Dude, what—?”

“GUN!!” He was just repeating it now, flailing his arms like his in-game model was having a seizure. “BIG—GUN—HE HAS A GUN—”

“Who has a gun?!”

“THE BLIND GUY!!” Sol whisper-shouted. “HE ALMOST SHOT ME!”

You blinked, slowly crouching. “You mean the monster has a gun? Like an actual gun?”

“Yes! A fucking shotgun. Like He’s blind, but he’s got aimbot—he hears you, and just—” Sol mimed a gun recoil. “Pop. Dead. No warning. No build-up. Just excellent ass hearing and bullets.”

You snorted. “So what I’m hearing is: don’t make noise.”

Because the Blind Huntsman was coming.

The cart was half full, sitting between the overturned desks and office rubble. You had all scrambled to hide, moving fast as the soft, dragging footsteps of the Huntsman echoed from the hallway—his boots heavy, and his breath sharp, unfiltered, like someone breathing through shredded cloth.

You dove under a busted-ass metal table in the middle of the room, the thing barely standing on three legs and draped with old-ass hanging wires and paper folders that probably hadn’t been touched since the building caught its first haunting. The light was dim, pulsing like a dying heartbeat from some emergency light in the hall. Dust settled thick on the floor, the smell of old rot and burning metal clinging to the air.

Across from you, Hyugo’s stupid cyan avatar ducked under another table, practically hugging the wall like some horror-movie goblin. He looked so ridiculous in that clown-ass outfit y’all let him pick, and the way he moved just made it worse—jerky, crouched, twitchy, like someone who was definitely going to get caught first.

And then there was Sol. Goddamn Sol. Man had one job—hide. But instead of tucking under a desk like a normal person, he panicked and wedged himself behind the door. Behind. The. Door. Like the Huntsman wasn't gonna swing it open and yeet him into next week.

Earlier, before shit hit the fan, he had said all calm like, “I’m gonna scope the hallway next. The cart’s almost full. Let me just—wait, hold on—” His mic clicked. That dreaded click.

You knew something was wrong. So did Hyugo.

Both of your avatars shifted ever so slightly—tense, alert.

Then Sol said it. “I’m getting a call.”

You silently screamed. Huygo’s shoulders went up like “no way this idiot’s serious.”

You hissed, “Sol, no—”

But he said it. Out loud. “Hello?”

The door didn’t creak open. It detonated—BOOM.

The sound rattled your headset so hard your mic peaked. Splinters flew, chunks of drywall exploded like confetti, and dust swallowed the whole room. The screen shook like a natural disaster, and you actually jumped IRL, heart hammering. Sol’s body got flung back like a ragdoll—slammed straight into a metal filing cabinet, bounced, and crumpled like a puppet with cut strings. It was the worst-looking hit you’d ever seen in-game. Just flopped there, half-folded behind some drawers.

And yet… somehow… the bastard lived.

He slowly sat up, stunned as hell. Twitchy, like he had just experienced every lifetime trauma at once. His mic crackled in all staticky, and he muttered: “…what the fuck.”

You were dying. Not in-game. In reality. Trying so hard not to lose it. Your whole body was trembling from how bad you wanted to laugh. You slapped both hands over your mouth and held them there like a makeshift muzzle, eyes wide, shoulders shaking.

You peeked out at Sol’s avatar.

He was looking dead at you.

And you felt it. The shame. The betrayal. The comedy. Whoever coded that eye tracking in this cursed game deserved an Oscar. Sol just sat there, traumatized, and stared at you like “you saw that, didn’t you?” And yeah. Yeah, you did. And it was the funniest shit you’d seen all week. Then Hyugo’s dumbass peeked out too.

Hyugo peeked out from his hiding spot—real slow, real cautious—and locked eyes with Sol first. Sol’s avatar, still slumped against the cabinet like a traumatized Victorian ghost, stared back. No words. Just… the kind of look that said "Don't you dare."

Then Hyugo turned and looked at you. Your own avatar, tucked safely under the rust-ridden desk, met his gaze with the same energy. A silent pact. Do not make a sound. Not a breath. Not a giggle. Not even a pixel twitch.

And Hyugo? He was trying, man. He really was.

You could see it—his character model shook slightly, his shoulders giving that telltale twitch. Like he was holding in a sneeze. You knew the warning signs. The snort was coming. And then—“Pfft.”

CRACK.

The Blind Huntsman didn’t even hesitate. Didn’t pause. That cursed bastard snapped around the second he heard the slip. One single shot. Pinpoint. Surgical. Hyugo’s head went supernova. Cyan body parts everywhere. His avatar’s body slammed into the edge of the metal table with this sickening clunk, arms flailing once before collapsing in a stiff, horrifying ragdoll motion. His limbs twitched for half a second… then silence.

Just the head left. Rolling.

Like the Huntsman said, “shut the hell up” with extreme prejudice.

Dead. Instant. No revive. No second chances.

The man got deleted like he owed the server money.

You were fully biting down on the sleeve of your hoodie now, hands over your face, trying not to scream with laughter. Shoulders shaking, breath hiccupping through your nose like a possessed hamster. Your eyes were stinging from how hard you were crying—silent tears of pure, uncut chaos.

Sol’s mic crackled again, dry as hell. No emotion. Just raw judgment. “…I hope you get haunted, bro. I really do.”

You couldn’t even answer. You were beyond words. The cart you were supposed to be pushing? Yeah. You just stared at it. Like maybe if you focused hard enough, you could will the mission to complete itself.

And the Huntsman? Still there.

Pacing slow. Heavy boots echoing through the static haze. He hadn’t forgotten. Not about Sol. Not about you. He was still walking. Still waiting for someone to slip up. And you could feel it—He was pissed.

You and Sol managed to slip out while the Huntsman circled the wreckage, still checking corners like a paranoid ex. You bolted left, Sol darted right—no words, just instinct and pure panic-fueled coordination. Both of you were half limping, half sliding into the hallway, ducking behind the rusted lockers and broken shelving until the Huntsman's heavy steps grew distant.

There was a long, quiet beat once you were safe.

Then—“…Did we just leave Hyugo’s decapitated ass in there?”

You stared at Sol. He stared back. Then you both turned to look at the cart you’d spent ten minutes loading, still sitting abandoned in the middle of the room next to Hyugo’s... head.

“Motherf—”

The next ten minutes were pure stealth-game agony. Crawling back, avoiding cameras, sensors, trying not to alert any monster. You had to watch the Huntsman loop its route three times before Sol gave you the go-ahead. He moved to the body. You got the cart.

Teamwork, right?

Eventually, you loaded the final files, got the cart into the hallway, and hit the extraction point with barely a second to spare. The screen faded to black.

Round complete.

The next scene dumped the three of you back into the familiar starting truck. Same cramped space. Same dim, flickering fluorescent light humming overhead like an anxious fly. The air in the truck felt heavier than before, like it still remembered the chaos from the last round.

Sol stood in the corner, arms crossed, glaring at absolutely nothing with the weight of every bad decision Hyugo had ever made. You were perched on one of the benches, legs pulled up, hoodie sleeve still a bit damp from when you nearly choked on your own laughter earlier.

And then there was Hyugo.

His avatar spawned in silently, just standing there for a long second like he was processing his own digital funeral.

Then he exhaled like someone twice his age. “…damn, I got clapped.”

That was all it took.

You started laughing again, that quiet, breathless kind that rocked your shoulders and made your stomach hurt. Hyugo cracked up beside you, doubling over, no shame at all.

“Who the hell answers a phone call in the middle of a mission, bro?” you snorted, elbowing his character like it could knock some sense into him.

Sol didn’t laugh. Didn’t smirk. Just slowly raised his arm and pointed at Hyugo like he was pressing a mental “report player” button.

“That's what your ass get,” he said flatly. “Prank-calling me mid-hide with your creepy-ass burner number? You deserved that karma in 4K, dumbass.”

Moving on, the next map flickered into existence as the truck doors groaned open. Bright, sterile white lights cut through the foggy interior, revealing a massive abandoned science lab, all clean metal, reinforced glass, and flickering emergency signs that suggested terrible things had happened here. The air was thick with strange green mist hissing from the vents, swirling in ghostly patterns around overturned desks and shattered containment pods.

Hyugo was still sprawled on the floor from his latest brush with death, groaning dramatically. You and Sol stepped over him like he was part of the scenery.

"Science lab, huh?" you muttered, adjusting your gear.

"Great," Sol sighed. "Haunted test tubes. Love that."

Hyugo finally pushed himself up, grinning like he hadn’t just been yeeted toward acid twice in the last five minutes. “Oh, y’all are gonna love this.”

He opened his inventory with a smug flourish, the soft chime echoing like a game show reveal. And there it was:

The Hourglass.

Not just rare—stupid rare. Glowing in vibrant shades of purple and pink, pulsing slightly like it had its heartbeat. The mist around your group even seemed to freeze for a second, as if reality itself was like, wait, what.

You and Sol both just stared. At it. At Hyugo. Then, back at the Hourglass, like you were waiting for a hidden camera reveal.

“You found that?” you asked, taking a cautious step forward.

“Yup,” Hyugo said proudly, hands on his hips. “Just vibing in the vents. Found it near a corpse. Thought it was lore or something.”

Sol blinked like a tired professor dealing with the world’s most dramatic intern. “Hyugo.”

“Yeah?”

Then it happened.

Hyugo’s model jerked slightly, like a status effect triggered, and when his mic crackled back to life, he was no longer speaking like Hyugo. No. Now, he was channeling something deeper. Something ancient. Something theatrical.

He straightened up with cartoonish grandeur and spoke in the slow, wise tone of a final boss monologue. “Sunny,” he began—Sol’s cursed nickname—“I have acquired… the capsule.”

You blinked. “The what?”

“The capsules. Of time. The very essence of fate distilled into radiant fragments. This—” he gestured dramatically to the Hourglass, “—is our salvation. Our burden. Our destiny.”

Sol deadpanned. “…You’ve been holding it for three seconds.”

Hyugo ignored him. Spun on his heel with dramatic flair. “We are going to win this game. For the realm. For the vent corpses that came before us.”

You crossed your arms. “Hyugo—”

“If it means I have to sacrifice my life…” Hyugo continued, raising one hand to the digital ceiling like a knight accepting a divine quest, “so be it. Let my KD be shattered. My dignity obliterated. My outfit scuffed—”

Sol raised his weapon slightly. “Don’t tempt me.”

Hyugo gasped. “You would turn on me now, Sunny? After all we’ve been through? After I carried you through that cursed stairwell map with the glitchy ass doors? Have you no heart?”

You tried not to laugh. Failed.

“Onward, you two!” Hyugo declared suddenly, pointing dramatically at the truck doors as they creaked open to reveal the misty lab ahead. “We must go! For glory! For loot! For Sunny’s tragic lack of skills!”

Sol muttered, “I have skills—”

“SILENCE! The prophecy unfolds!”

And with that, Hyugo bolted forward, cape fluttering—he didn’t have one, but you felt like he did—into the ominous green mist, yelling something incoherent about “ether trails” and “data packets of destiny.”

You glanced at Sol. Sol glanced at you.

“I’m not reviving him when he gets face-checked by a mimic chest,” Sol said, voice flat as asphalt.

You tilted your head, smirking. “You know we’re following him anyway.”

“…Yeah. I hate that,” he muttered, already moving.

Without a second of hesitation, Sol opened his inventory with the resigned grace of someone prepping for a ritual he swore he wouldn’t take part in. One swift flick later, he pulled out the gun—the gun. Sleek, matte black, gold trim. The kind of in-game weapon that costs 7,000 currency, your soul, and your firstborn. Came with a single magazine and a kill count higher than most player stats.

Your eyes widened. “Sol—”

Before you could even finish your sentence—BANG.

Hyugo collapsed like a folding chair. A single headshot. Dead. Instant. No fanfare. His body rag-dolled across the floor and slammed into the lab wall with a sad little clunk, the Hourglass clattering beside him like a dropped Fabergé egg. “…WHAT THE HELL?!” Hyugo’s mic exploded back to life as his model twitched on the floor.

You exhaled. “What the helly?”

Hyugo groaned. “What the helly??”

“What the helleante?” “What the helleon musk?” “What the helleberry pie?”

“What the Hellebron James?” “What the Helly Rae Jepsen?”

“Guys.” Sol’s voice cut in, calm but worn, like a man hanging by a single thread of patience. “Shut the fuck up.”

He walked over, still holding that overkill gun in one hand like it weighed nothing, then, without missing a beat, used the grab function to hoist Hyugo’s limp avatar off the ground. His digital arms dangled, legs flopping like a sack of potatoes in skinny jeans. “Bro—BRO,” Hyugo shrieked, squirming. “Put me down! What are you doing?! SOL—Sol stop—STOP—”

You trailed after them, watching like an exhausted parent witnessing their two chaotic ass sons take very different approaches to conflict resolution.

“Sol. Come on.”

Sol’s avatar stopped just at the edge of the glowing, toxic pit bubbling in the middle of the containment zone. The green light cast eerie shadows across the lab walls. He slowly turned his character model, head cocked toward you.

One word. “Justice.”

“BRO I’LL BUY YOU A SKIN,” Hyugo screamed. “A WHOLE PACK! LIMITED EDITION! I’LL PAY FOR IT WITH MY OWN CURRENCY—”

Sol took a step closer to the pit. Paused.

Hyugo whimpered. “Please don’t Wario-yeet me into acid, I’m useful…”

Another step. The acid hissed below, eager. Hungry.

You raised a hand like a referee about to blow the whistle. “Sol. We do need him to activate the switch in the next room. You remember the puzzle door.”

Sol sighed, heavy and reluctant. “I hate teamwork.”

Hyugo, still dangling: “I LOVE teamwork.”

After a long moment, Sol dropped him. Hyugo screamed like a dying fax machine as his avatar plummeted toward the acid below—arms flailing, mic peaking—until you lunged. Frame-perfect grab. Caught him by the hoodie just before he splashed into the bubbling green abyss. His scream cut off immediately. For a second, the whole game seemed to lag, his body glitching mid-air as you held him up like some divine intervention.

Silence. Then: “—Y-you saved me,” Hyugo breathed.

You dropped him. He hit the floor with a loud thunk.

"Don't thank me," you muttered, brushing off your sleeves. "I just didn't wanna hear that scream again."

Hyugo groaned, rolling onto his side. "You two are bullies."

Sol casually reloaded his gun. “You’re welcome for the content.”

Hyugo sat up, rubbing his digital head like he could still feel the gunshot. “I’m getting a new squad.”

"You say that every round," you smirked, already scanning the lab. Beyond the glowing acid pit, the corridors stretched into eerie, sterile hallways, the green mist rolling between shattered glass panels.

Oh, yeah—and the rest of the game? Oh, it completely fell apart. What started as a semi-coordinated dungeon crawl quickly devolved into Hyugo’s personal chaos playground.

You were trying to play with some semblance of focus. Sol was attempting to maintain professionalism, a beacon of composure in the chaos. And then there was Hyugo, who effortlessly turned the entire game from a tense "sci-fi horror dungeon crawl" to a wild, unhinged improv comedy show—complete with light war crimes.

He was a menace. No—he was the menace. A digital gremlin incarnate. One moment, you’re creeping down a shadowy lab corridor, the eerie hum of the ambient music seeping into your headphones, the air thick with tension. You’re on edge, weapons ready, your mind focused on the mission at hand… and then—BOOM.

Big Sean’s “I Don’t F*ck With You” intro explodes through team chat, its intro blaring like a furious soundboard god had just unleashed chaos upon you. You whip around the corner just in time to see Hyugo, arms flailing, sprinting full speed through a doorway, the music pounding in the background. Behind him? A grotesque, duck-shaped miniboss, honking like a malfunctioning bike horn and spewing acid everywhere.

You couldn’t help it.

You were dying from laughter, struggling to even aim properly, your screen a blur from tears of hilarity.

Sol, on the other hand?

“TURN IT OFF,” he growled, weapon drawn, hands visibly shaking with frustration. His usual calm demeanor? Gone.

Hyugo didn’t even flinch. “I WOULD RATHER DIE!”Instead, he leapt. A full-on swan dive off a second-story catwalk, arms spread wide in dramatic, angelic fashion, while the music still blared through the speakers. His avatar ragdoling gracefully down to the depths below, and that ridiculous duck miniboss followed right after.

You? Hysterical. Barely holding it together.

Sol? “I hope it eats him.”

The only thing more ridiculous than Hyugo's antics was the fact that you all still couldn't stop.

The next round? It was a complete disaster.

You were trying to maintain some semblance of control, moving stealthily through a high-alert containment zone. Alarms blared in your ears, the shrill sound slicing through your focus. Enemies were everywhere, ready to pounce at the first sign of trouble. Sol was on point, carefully lining up a perfect shot on a sniper perched high in the rafters. It was the kind of moment that made you feel like you were finally in control.

And then, suddenly—LOUD BABY CRYING.

The mic exploded with static, the shrieks vibrating through your headset. You froze, your camera whipping around to see what the hell was going on. There, crouched behind Sol, was Hyugo.

And he wasn’t even doing anything. He was just vibing. No weapons, no tactics. Just existing, silently in the corner.

The worst part?

Every time you looked directly at him, he shot off like a rogue NPC with a death wish. His character zigzagged around the hallway, darting every which way, a trail of baby wails following him like an ominous echo through the halls. It felt like you were being haunted by the ghost of daycare past, each screeching cry more absurd than the last.

Sol's jaw was clenched so hard you could practically hear his teeth grinding together. He spun on you, his frustration practically palpable. “I’m this close to uninstalling.”

You shrugged, not even bothering to hide your grin. “Let him live. He’s the only one distracting the minibosses.”

Sol’s glare could’ve burned a hole through steel. “He’s distracting me.”

Of course, things didn’t get better.

You were one artifact away from completing the mission.

Going back for the legendary Hourglass.

A cursed, time-warping relic that everyone knew was crucial to the final steps. You had made it this far, fighting tooth and nail to stay alive, to push forward. The whole mission had come down to this one piece.

Sol exhaled slowly, trying to keep it together. “Alright. Where’s the Hourglass?”

Before you could even answer, Hyugo shot up from the corner where he’d been hiding, far too excited. “Ooh! I’ll get it!”

You and Sol both said it in unison. “NO.”

You pointed at him, voice firm. “I’ll get it.”

You sprinted off, cursing under your breath as you dashed through the corridor, praying to every god in existence that Hyugo wouldn't somehow decide to follow you and make the situation even worse. The last thing you needed was him trailing behind you like a damn toddler in a toy store, causing chaos at every corner.

When you finally returned, panting, gripping the eerie-looking relic in your hands, you were met with a sight that made your blood boil: Hyugo, standing atop a console, looking absolutely delightful in that damn ugly seasonal cosmetic hat.

He spun around like he was auditioning for a low-budget action movie, and before you could even blink, he started blasting the most obnoxious clapping sound effect. His character mimicked a ridiculously exaggerated movement, like he was giving backshots to Sol's and yours.

That was it. You were done.

No more laughter. No more tolerance for his nonsense. The mission was right there, within reach, and yet here he was, ruining everything with his antics.

You slammed your hand down on your mic key. “Hyugo, what the hell is wrong with you?” you growled, voice dripping with annoyance. “You can’t be serious. Every time we get anywhere, you turn this game into a circus. We’re not here to play dress-up and throw sound effects around. This isn’t a comedy show!”

You glared at him through the screen, fury bubbling up. “I’ve been trying to finish this mission for hours, and all you’ve done is run around like a damn gremlin, causing chaos and wasting everyone’s time! I swear to god, if you don’t knock it off—”

Hyugo, of course, just stood there, you knew for a fact that he’s grinning like an idiot behind his fuck ass character. The last shred of your patience snapped. You looked at Sol’s character on the screen, knowing he was feeling the exact same way. Sol’s normally calm demeanor was clearly strained, but he wasn’t saying a word.

“Hyugo,” you seethed, “I’m done. Just—get out. If you can’t take this seriously, then don’t waste our time. You’re a walking distraction and a complete menace. Maybe if you stopped playing clown, you’d actually be useful for once.”

Without waiting for any kind of response, you spun around in your seat, fingers slamming against the buttons in a blur of frustration. The shot rang out, and with a satisfying pop, Hyugo's avatar’s head crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

There was a long, tense silence. You were still fuming, but you didn’t care anymore. Hyugo was out of your hair. The relic was in your hands. The mission was finally going to be over.

Or so you thought.

Then, out of nowhere, his voice crackled through the mic, calm and far too chipper. "Alright, I’m logging off for the night," Hyugo announced, as if he hadn't just spent the last hour turning the game into a goddamn circus. "I’m gonna play something else. This is... yeah, this is too much for me."

You blinked, taken aback. He was serious? After everything? You were half-expecting him to jump back in and say, "Just kidding!" or somehow start another round of chaotic shenanigans. But no. This time, he wasn’t even bothering to tease Sol. No baby were crying sound effects, no loud meme noises blaring through the speakers, no swan dives off catwalks.

You let out a long sigh as the weight of the chaos slowly lifted from your shoulders, but just when you thought you could finally call it a night, Sol shot you a look that could only be described as a challenge.

“Don’t tell me you're actually done,” he said, a smirk creeping into his voice. “Come on, it’s late, but we’re so close. You’ve gotta finish the level with me. I dare you.”

You raised an eyebrow. You were exhausted, physically and mentally.

The idea of continuing felt like a cruel joke, but you knew one thing: Sol wasn’t backing down, and he had a way of wearing you down with that competitive streak of his. "Fine," you muttered, giving in. "But if I regret this in the morning, I’m blaming you."

Sol gave you a look through the camera—equal parts smug and tired triumph—as you queued up a new level, eyes bleary but still gleaming with challenge.

“You sure?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, stretching like a smug cat. “This one’s deep in the DLC vault. Real freakshow hours.”

You smirked, fingers already flying across the controller. “Bring it on, coward.”

What loaded next was an obscure, borderline-broken DLC map—one of those buggy, cursed messes made by a dev who clearly needed therapy and a hug. Everything about it was off: the lighting was dim and sickly, the corridors were way too narrow, and worst of all, voice proximity was cranked up to hell. It didn’t just pick up speech. It picked up breathing.

Neither of you noticed it right away—until Sol whispered a dumb joke and the monster twitched on the screen.

“Oh hell no,” he muttered, sitting up straighter. “This thing reacts to voice pitch?”

You hummed, too tired to even laugh properly. “Mmhm. Screeches at loud noises, tracks whispers like a bloodhound.”

“Great,” he deadpanned. “So basically, I die if I sneeze.”

You forged ahead anyway, navigating through the maze of twisted hallways and creaky floorboards. The monster’s guttural growls kept brushing up against your nerves, but your exhaustion forced you into a kind of laser-focused calm. Your voice dropped lower, slower, softer—soothing, unintentional, intimate.

“Go left,” you murmured. “No—wait... not yet... okay, now. Stay close to the wall.”

There was silence on Sol’s end. Long, uncomfortable silence.

“Why are you... whispering like that?” he asked, voice a little thinner now.

You didn’t even look up. “Monster hears pitch. Screams attract it. I’m trying to not to get us murdered.”

“Sure,” he said, and then quieter, “It’s just... wow. Okay.”

Another corridor, another wave of tension. You were crouched behind a rusted shelf, heart thumping, flashlight flickering like it had stage fright, as the game’s monster—this twitchy, multi-limbed freak that sprinted at sound—skulked somewhere nearby.

You leaned into your mic, voice steady, low, breath soft. “Hold your position… grab the crowbar… don’t move… until I say so.” Smooth. Silky. Calculated.

And then—“Sol?” Nothing.

“Sol?” Still nothing.

You peeked down the hallway just in time to see Sol’s in-game avatar standing completely still like some tragic mannequin left in a post-apocalyptic mall. Just… chilling. No movement, no reaction—man really just decided to embrace the void mid-mission. Then, out of the shadows, the monster shrieked like a dying lawnmower and launched itself at him.

“SOL—WHAT THE FUCK?!”

You screamed his name like he’d walked into oncoming traffic. His character didn’t even flinch. He just stood there, stoic as hell, right until the monster decapitated him with enough force to send his character’s head flying halfway across the screen like it owed him money.

“Oh my god—SOL, YOU DIED, YOUR HEAD—YOUR FUCKING HEAD WENT INTO THE SKY.”

Still no response.

Just the sound of the monster doing a victory screech and your own mic picking up your frantic panting as you became the hunted next. Now it was your turn to run. You booked it, chart in hand, tripping over half-looted shelves and whispering panicked commands to no one. You were not about to leave those high-priced relic items behind. No way. That shit was worth more than your character’s life, and you were committed.

You could feel the vibration through your controller ramping up—like it was trying to match your pulse. The sound of claws scraping concrete got closer. Louder.

Then—“Nnnh…” A noise. Quiet. Way too quiet. But there.

You froze mid-run. “Sol?” No answer.

“…Are you—are you for real jacking off right now?!”

A pause. Then, barely audible through your headset, a low mumble:

“Keep talking… please,”

“I AM IN A GAME, YOU SICK LITTLE FREAK! THERE IS A DEMON CENTIPEDE THING TWO FEET BEHIND ME—I AM FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE—AND YOU’RE TRYNA BUST?!”

The controller was still buzzing in your hands like it had a personal vendetta. Maybe it was the in-game monster. Maybe it was your own nerves. Or maybe—just maybe—it was Sol, breathing way too hard in your headset and dragging your sanity down with him.

And the worst part? It was funny. Because you'd forgotten—actually forgotten—you were even dating him. You were so used to Sol being somewhat mean, clingy, pouty, and generally up in your business that his little habits no longer register. Until now. Until this very cursed match. Because this?

This was a whole other level.

Just when you rounded the next corner—BAM. The monster dropped from the ceiling vents like it had a grudge, tackled your character, and splattered your health bar in one hit. Your screen flashed a dramatic, unforgiving red:

YOU DIED.

You blinked at the screen. Jaw slack. Controller limp in your hands.

“…Are you kidding me?” you said, voice cracking. “I just got jump-scared to death because you decided to moan in my ear like we’re in some low-budget audio drama.”

Nothing. Just silence. Then, his mic crackled.

There was rustling, a shift, the soft sound of movement, and then Sol exhaled. Shaky. Like he’d just run a marathon—or committed a sin.

“I-I’m sorry,” he muttered, breathless and too soft for comfort. “I couldn’t help it. Your voice… it was driving me crazy.”

Your face went hot. Neck, ears, everything. You curled your toes on instinct. That stupid familiar twist of heat hit your stomach before you could even think to shut him up.

“Sol,” you hissed, but it came out more like a whimper.

“I—can we switch to Discord?” he asked suddenly, almost desperate. “Please, please, Pumpkin. Just for a sec. I need you to see what you’re doing to me.” He begged, using said nickname.

Your heart stuttered.

You weren’t proud of it, but the way he begged—soft, needy, breath catching like he was barely holding it together—yeah.

You were a little turned on.

Fine. Maybe more than a little.

You stared at the screen, still frozen on your defeat, the red YOU DIED taunting you like it knew exactly why. The headset felt suddenly too hot on your ears, like it was echoing back his voice over and over again. Your fingers flexed around the controller like it owed you an explanation.

“Sol, we’re in the middle of a game,” you muttered, but the protest was flimsy, half-hearted at best. Because let’s be real, your fingers were already flying to open Discord with the kind of speed that betrayed just how curious you really were. How desperate, aww.

“Then quit it.” His voice was a rough whisper, thick like honey poured over gravel, dark and syrupy-sweet. “Quit the game. I don’t give a damn if it’s ranked, or cursed, or if the final boss was personally designed by the devil anymore. I just need—”

A low, broken groan tore from his throat, vibrating through the call and sending an electric shiver straight down your spine.

“—need you to look at me.”

And when the video call connected?

God. You looked. And you immediately regretted it.

The screen flickered to life, and there he was—Sol, wrecked and breathless, like he’d been fighting for control and lost. His black and neon-green hair was a disheveled mess, sweat-damp strands clinging to his forehead. His shirt was rucked up past his hips, revealing the sharp cut of his abdomen, the tantalizing dip of his V-line—like he’d gotten impatient, like he’d been touching himself just thinking about you—well, of course, all he thinks about is you after all.

Bruises littered his skin, dark and possessive, marking him up in a way that only made him look wilder, more feral. His red-orange eyes were blown wide, pupils swallowing the color, glassy with desperation. His hands trembled where they braced against his desk, mic discarded like even that was too much to hold onto.

“You did this,” he accused, voice raw, wrecked. A confession. A prayer.

Your throat went dry. Heat flooded your veins, crawling up your neck, your cheeks, your ears—everywhere. You bit the inside of your cheek hard enough to sting, just to keep yourself from whimpering.

“You’re insane,” you breathed.

Sol nodded, feverish, eager. “For you? Every damn second.”

You tried to laugh, but it came out shaky, breathless. “We were just gaming—”

“No.” His voice dropped, sharp and dangerous. “You were gaming. I was trying not to lose my goddamn mind listening to you—your threats, your fucking voice, whispering curses like you were trying to ruin me.”

“I was not!” you protested, weak, already squirming.

“‘I’m gonna shove this bat so far up your undead ass, you’ll respawn with it sticking out your mouth,’” he quoted, verbatim, voice dripping with accusation. His gaze burned into you, unwavering. “Tell me that wasn’t filthy. Tell me you didn’t know what you were doing.”

You swallowed hard. “Okay,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe that one was a little hot.”

His grin was wicked, triumphant, as he leaned closer to the screen, like he could taste your surrender. “So,” he murmured, voice dipping into something dark, hungry, “still think we’re finishing that match?”

Your cursor hovered over “Rejoin Game.”

Then, with a slow, deliberate click, you closed the tab.

“…I hope that monster knows it died for a very good cause.”

Your breath hitched as Sol leaned back, his fingers hooking under the hem of his shirt with a slow, deliberate smirk. "You wanna see more?" he taunted, voice dripping with sinful amusement. "Then say it."

Your lips parted, heat coiling low in your stomach as you narrowed your eyes. "Take it off. Now."

A sharp, breathy laugh escaped him as he obeyed, dragging the fabric up and over his head in one smooth motion. His chest was perfectly—toned, flushed, his pierced nipples glinting under the dim light of his room.

You hadn’t noticed before, but each one was adorned with a small silver med-sized bars, the metal catching the light as his breathing quickened. "Fuck," you muttered, biting your lip. “Aww, you’ve been hiding these from me?"

Sol’s grin was all teeth. "Not hiding. Just waiting for you to ask."

Your gaze raked over him, lingering on the way his stomach tensed as he shifted, his fingers toying with the waistband of his pants. "And what else are you hiding, huh?" you challenged, voice dropping into something darker.

"You gonna show me everything, or do I have to make you?"

A shudder ran through him at the command, his pupils blown wide. "Fuck—" His fingers trembled as he undid the button, the zipper sliding down with a hiss that sent a jolt straight to your core.

And then—"Holy shit."

Your eyes locked onto the glint of metal there, nestled along the length of his cock, a delicate Frenum piercing tracing from the tip down to the flushed, aching pink of him. He was big, thick, and heavy in his hand as he gave himself a slow stroke, the silver bead catching the light obscenely.

"You—" Your voice cracked. "You’ve had this the whole time?"

Sol’s breath came in ragged bursts, his free hand gripping the edge of his desk. "Yeah," he admitted, voice wrecked. "Thought you’d—ah—like it."

You did. God, you did.

“Play with yourself,” you ordered, rather quickly—voice dripping with dark command, leaving no room for hesitation. “Let me see how pathetic you look when you’re desperate for me.”

A sharp, wounded whine tore from Sol’s throat, but his hand obeyed instantly, sliding down his stomach to wrap around his cock—already hard, already dripping, the metal of his Frenum piercing glinting under the dim light. His fingers moved in slow, torturous drags, his breath hitching as he squeezed just the way he knew you liked to watch.

“Fuck—fuck—” His hips jerked, chasing his own touch, his thighs trembling. “Tell me—” he gasped, voice wrecked, “tell me how I look.”

You leaned closer to the screen, lips curling into a cruel smirk as you drank in the sight of him—his black and green hair sticking to his sweat-slicked forehead, his pierced nipples pebbled tight under your gaze, his abs flexing with every ragged breath.

“Like a whore,” you purred, low and filthy. “All these piercings, all these pretty little decorations—just for me to look at, huh? You like showing off? Like knowing I’m staring at your cock and thinking about how mine it is?”

Sol moaned, high and broken, his free hand flying up to pinch and twist at his nipple, the metal barbell catching the light. His back arched off the bed, his whole body shuddering. “Yours,” he gasped, voice cracking. “Always—fuck—always yours.”

You watched, transfixed, as his fingers moved faster, his strokes turning messy, needy. His other hand kept playing with his nipple, tugging at the piercing just to hear himself whimper, just to feel something sharper.

And God, you were losing it too.

Your thighs pressed together, trying to relieve the ache building between them, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough. Not when you could see the way his cock twitched in his grip, the way his stomach muscles clenched as he got closer. Not when you could hear every broken gasp, every bitten-off moan.

Your mind raced with want—with the desperate, clawing need to have him here, in your room, on your bed, begging for you to climb into his lap and ride him until neither of you could think.

You imagined his rough, massive hands dragging down your body, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he whined into your ear. You could almost feel the heat of his skin under your palms, the way his muscles would tense as you traced every scar, every bruise, every inch of him.

And his piercings—fuck.

You wanted to lick them, to bite down just hard enough to make him gasp, to suck his nipples until they were red and swollen. You wanted to taste every part of him, to sink onto his cock and feel that Frenum piercing drag inside you, hitting every perfect spot until you were both sobbing.

But most of all?

You wanted to see those eyes—those obsessive, red-orange eyes—locked onto yours as he came undone beneath you, whispering your name like a prayer.

"Be careful with yourself, pretty boy," you murmured into the mic, voice dripping with false sweetness—but the tremor in your breath gave you away. Your fingers slid between your thighs, slow, teasing, just enough to make your hips twitch. "Wouldn’t want you to break before I’m done with you."

"Sol," you breathed, voice dripping with sin as your fingers traced slow, teasing circles over your own skin—just watching the way his eyes darkened, the way his breath hitched when you bit your lip. "You have no idea how badly I want to touch you right now."

His throat bobbed, his grip tightening around his cock like he was barely holding on. "Fuck—tell me," he begged, voice already wrecked.

You tilted your head, letting him see the hunger in your eyes—the way you ached for him. "I’d start with your face," you murmured, dragging your fingertips down your neck, mimicking the path you’d take on him. "Kissing you so deep you forget how to breathe. Then your neck—"

Your teeth grazed your lower lip, just imagining the way he’d shudder. "Biting you just how you like it. Gentle? Or hard enough to make you whimper?"

Sol’s hips jerked, a broken sound escaping. "Hard—fuck, please—"

You smirked, dragging your nails down your chest, watching his gaze follow every movement. "Then I’d take my time with these," you purred, rubbing your own nipple just to watch him lose it. "Your piercings—god, I’ve thought about them so much. The way they’d feel against my lips, cold metal and hot skin. I’d tease you until you were begging me to move lower."

His breath came in ragged pants, his hand moving faster, desperate. "Lower—where—?"

You let out a slow, sinful laugh. "Guess."

Your fingers trailed down your stomach, lower, lower, until his eyes burned with recognition. "Oh, Sol," you sighed, voice thick with want. "You liar, such a bad boy. All this time, you never told me about this."

You licked your lips, imagining the weight of him, the way that frenum piercing would feel pressing against your tongue. "I’d take my time tasting you, savoring every inch—until you were shaking, until you couldn’t stand it."

Sol’s back arched, his free hand gripping the edge of his desk like he was about to snap. "You—you knew—?"

‘No," you admitted, your own fingers slipping between your thighs, moaning softly at the contact. "But I dreamed about it. About how it’d feel when you fucked my throat, when that little metal bar hit the back of my tongue. You’d try so hard to be good, wouldn’t you? But I’d make you lose control. Make you push deeper, until I was choking on you—until you came so hard you screamed."

He let out a strangled groan, his thighs trembling. "Or—fuck—or you could ride me," he gasped, his voice raw with need. "Take what you want, use me—‘

You cut him off, “Fuck—fuck—fuck—“

Your breath hitched as you rocked against your own fingers, Sol’s blown-out, filthy gaze locked onto you through the screen. He was watching—watching every twitch of your thighs, every shuddering gasp, every slick, desperate stroke of your fingers. And God, the way his lips parted, his chest heaving, his cock twitching against his stomach—like he was made for this. For you.

"That’s it, pumpkin," Sol groaned, voice wrecked, his fingers digging into his own thighs as he fought not to touch himself yet. "Look at you—fuck—look at you, taking yourself apart just ‘cause I’m watching."

You whimpered, arching off your gamer chair, your free hand fisting the blanket. "S-Sol—"

"Tell me," he demanded, his voice rough, needy. "Tell me what you’ve been thinking about. What you dream about when you’re pretending to focus on your goddamn finals."

Your hips stuttered. Fuck.

"Y-You—" you gasped, your mind spinning with him—Sol, yours, always yours, forever yours—jumping on him, riding him, your mouth around your cock as you ordered him to take it and be still until he was sobbing your name. Or maybe him pounding into you—vice versa if you have to be honest, his thick cock splitting you open, filling you up so good, so perfect, slow and deep one second, then brutal the next, fucking you senseless until neither of you could think—

"Fuck, Sol—!" You bit your lip hard, your thighs trembling. "I—I want you—inside—want you to fucking ruin me—"

A sharp, punched-out moan tore from Sol’s throat, his hand finally—finally—wrapping around his cock, stroking hard, fast, like he couldn’t hold back anymore. "Yeah? Where?" he growled, his hips jerking up into his fist.

"Tell me exactly where you want me, pumpkin—"

"E-Everywhere—" you whined, your fingers working faster, your body burning. "My mouth—my hole—fuck, just—fill me up, Sol, please—"

"Fuck—" His head tipped back, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“J-just you—fuck, you cumming so deep inside me—gonna make me drip with it—" You moaned, loud and shameless, your climax crashing into you like a fucking tsunami—and just as you came, shaking, screwing your eyes shut, you heard Sol break.

Sol’s breath hitched, his rhythm faltering. "I’m—I’m close—"

You locked eyes with him, your own pleasure coiling tight, unbearable. "Then come," you demanded, your voice a dark, delicious command.

"Come for me, Sol. Let me hear how much you need this."

And when he did—when his whole body shook, when his voice broke into a desperate, pleading cry—"Ngh—pumpkin.”

His back arched off his chair, his cum flying—literally hitting his camera with a wet splat, his cock pulsing in his hand as he kept stroking, milking himself through it, his moans filthy, pathetic, perfect.

"Shit—look what you did—" he panted, his voice wrecked, his cum streaked across the screen like some kind of obscene trophy. "Fuckin’—everywhere—"

You laughed, breathless, your body still buzzing. "Mmm… should’ve been inside me instead."

Sol’s eyes darkened, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Next time," he promised, his voice low, dangerous, "I’ll make sure none of it goes to waste."

Then, with a smirk that sent a fresh jolt of heat straight to your core, he leaned closer to the camera—and licked a stripe right through his own mess.

"Fuck," you breathed.

Sol just grinned, his lips glistening. "Better than video games?"

You groaned, throwing an arm over your face. "Shut up."

He laughed—warm, bright, yours—and you couldn’t help but smile.

The screen between you flickered with the remnants of what just happened—Sol’s chest still heaving, his lips parted, his skin flushed down to his collarbones. You both just breathed for a second, the air thick with satisfaction, the kind of exhaustion that curled warm in your stomach.

“Fuck,” Sol muttered, voice rough, dragging a hand down his face. “We’re gonna have to clean this shit up.”

You snorted, stretching lazily, your muscles loose and tingling. “Your camera’s never gonna recover.”

He glanced at the mess streaked across his lens and groaned, but there was a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Worth it.”

You both took a second to recover—him wiping his screen with the hem of his shirt, you grabbing tissues to clean yourself up—moving in comfortable silence, the kind that only came when words weren’t necessary. When the heat between you spoke louder than anything else.

Then, softer: “Exams fucking suck,” you sighed, flopping back onto your chair, legs still trembling slightly.

Sol huffed a laugh, rough and warm. “Tell me about it. I think my brain’s just soup at this point.”

“Same.” You grinned at the ceiling, still feeling the ghost of his gaze on you. “But at least we’ve got this.”

“This?”

“Yeah. This.” You gestured vaguely between you, as he shifted in his seat, giving you another glimpse of his toned stomach, the way his sweatpants rode low on his hips. “The games. The dumbass voice chats. The… other stuff.”

There was a pause.

Then, so quiet you almost missed it—

“This is the only part of the day I actually look forward to.” Sol admitted.

Your breath caught. “…Yeah,” you murmured after a beat, voice softening. “Same.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was loaded—warm and electric, like the air right before a thunderstorm. Then Sol broke it, his voice dipping into something teasing but dangerously sincere.

“Your voice is dangerous, you know.”

You laughed. “Why? ‘Cause it almost got you killed in-game?”

“No.” His tone shifted, low and deliberate.

“Because I think I’m kind of into it.”

“Oh my god—” You grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it across your room, your face burning.

Sol laughed, the sound bright and unguarded, and you could picture him—sprawled back in his chair, smug as hell, that lazy grin playing on his lips.

You both laughed it off—mostly—but when the moment settled, neither of you moved to leave the call. The screen stayed open, Sol’s heavy-lidded gaze still fixed on you, lingering like he was memorizing every detail.

Fuck. The night couldn’t end like this.

You glanced at your clock. “…I don’t have another final until Friday.”

Sol’s eyebrow arched. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You bit your lip, then slowly—deliberately—spread your legs, letting him see the mess you’d made, still glistening between your thighs. “So… you could come over. Bring snacks.”

His breath hitched. His fingers twitched against his desk, like he was fighting the urge to reach through the screen.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice rough.

You smirked, then—just as his eyes darkened with hunger—you poked at the screen, sticking your tongue out before abruptly ending the call.

Leaving him with nothing but the image of you.

And another hard bulge in his sweatpants.

“Fuck,” Sol groaned to the empty room, already scrambling for his keys. He grabbed his jacket, his pulse racing.

Yeah. This was so much fucking better than video games.

The call between you and Sol was already too much—voices tangled in panting breaths, the slick, filthy sound of skin on skin, the way Sol whined your name like a prayer. It was overwhelming. Distracting. So much so that you didn’t even notice the other set of ragged breathing.

A third participant in the call.

Hidden in the shadows of the voice channel—camera off, letting go rugged breaths —Hyugo sat frozen at his desk, bathed in the dim blue glow of his monitor. All he’d meant to do was pop in, apologize for trolling you both earlier, maybe convince you to queue up another round. But then he’d heard your voice. Sol’s voice. And then—

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

His fingers, which had been idly scratching at his thigh, froze. His breath hitched, sharp and sudden—like he’d just taken a hit straight to the chest.

This wasn’t just a call.

This was filth. A live, unfiltered, obscene performance—and he was the unseen, uninvited spectator.

And that alone made him hard, fast.

It wasn’t long before Hyugo’s baby-blue hair, usually tied back in a neat half-pony, now hung loose—sweat-damp strands clinging to his flushed cheeks. His lips—god, his lips—were bitten raw, his teeth sinking into the fabric of his own shirt to stifle the pathetic little noises threatening to spill out.

He hadn’t meant to stay.

He definitely hadn’t meant to touch himself.

But the way you talked to Sol—low, commanding, dripping with filthy promises—it wrecked him. The way Sol begged for you, voice cracking on your name, the way he whimpered when you teased him—

Hyugo’s hand was already slipping past the waistband of his sweats before he could stop himself.

“Fuck,” he breathed, silent, trembling.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. Wasn’t supposed to be listening.

But god, the way you talked about ruining Sol—

His cock twitched in his palm, already leaking, already aching as he quickly fisted himself, trying to be quiet. He could’ve put himself on mute, but—

The risk of getting caught turned him on more.

So he tested himself, gagged by his own shirt, watching his cock pulse in his grip, his thighs tensing as he fought to keep his hips from jerking forward.

He should leave. He should close the call.

But instead, his fingers tightened, stroking slow, so fucking slow, just to drag it out, just to hear more.

By the time Sol left the call, Hyugo was ruined.

His thighs shook. His free hand clutched at his own shirt, dragging it up to his mouth to bite down as his hips jerked forward—

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck—

He barely had the presence of mind to grab a few napkin from his desk, cupping it over the tip just as his orgasm ripped through him—a silent, shuddering cry muffled into fabric as he spilled into his palm, his cock throbbing with every pulse.

“F-fuck—!”

He slumped back in his chair, chest heaving, skin burning, his cock still twitching as he dabbed himself clean, careful not to let a single drop ruin his precious gaming setup.

Disgusting. Pathetic. And so fucking good.

He still couldn’t believe you two—blissfully unaware, oblivious to the fact that he’d just come to the sound of you and Sol falling apart.

Hyugo’s lips curled into a shaky, guilty smirk.

"Maybe I should still be annoying in y’all’s games more often," he thought, breathless, wicked.

This wasn’t better than video games, but—Fuck.

He didn’t mind shit like this now. He’d take it every damn time.

…y’all… should I write a threesome? jkjk…

Also... not gonna lie, writing this made me like Sol. Just a tiny bit.

#the kid at the back x reader #the kid at the back vn #tkatb #solivan brugmansia #the kid at the back sol #tkatb sol #tkatb vn #sol brugmansia #sol x reader #tkatb smut #the kid at the back #sorry not sorry #tkatb x reader #the kid at the back hyugo #tkatb hyugo #hyugo sugimoto #hyugo x reader #the kid at the back smut #the kid at the back mc

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esote-rika · 6 months ago

Text

A bookstore meet cute I wish I could experience | Spencer Reid

Category: Fluff with S4 awkward, nerdy rizz Spencer

Warnings: use of Y/N, unedited (tenses keep shifting, sorry)

A/N: this is just 1.8k words of self indulgent self insert. Like this is inspired by some unpleasant experiences I've had talking with men about books in the past lol, and reader's responses defensive responses had been me at some point. i feel like a conversation with Spencer Reid would heal me, thus this fic. Also, save me, s4e9 Spencer Reid, save me.

He seemed like a fixture to the bookstore, if fixtures moved on their own. Or if they moved up and down the aisles with elegant fingers tracing the spines of the books on display. Or if they dressed like a rumpled professor, complete with the black rimmed glasses. He just seemed like he was part of the space, and you thought that every bookstore should probably come with one - a tall, attractive nerd who drifted all over the room like some sort of phantom. Maybe that would help with the literacy problem. It certainly would bring more people in, make them more interested in reading.

You've been trying to figure him out from afar, as subtle as you can. You're not a creep, after all, but he cuts such a lonely figure that you couldn't help but wonder if he needed some company. A part of you wonders if he's noticed you as well. This store is your late afternoon treat, after all. You come here every Friday, without fail, even when you know the inventory is unreplenished, simply to bask in the presence of books.

And then he started coming in regularly, and you had another reason to come.

You never approached him. Something about simply knowing he's there, while remaining a stranger, is thrilling. You can romanticize him if he's a stranger, project all the wholesome fantasies and book boyfriends you have upon him with no sense of accountability.

It also means you avoid the disappointment if he turns out to be another condescending know it all, eager to put you and your reading habits down because oh your tastes are so girly.

No, this was better. You're a flaneur, you tell yourself, you're here to be part of the space and observe from within, even though you doubt this is what Baudelaire had in mind when he wrote that essay and defined the term.

Still.

You smile to yourself, crouching down to check the books on the lower shelf, and also to catch a glimpse of his legs. He'd been on the other side of this shelf for the past five minutes, and you've gotten a soft chuckle when you saw his mismatched socks.

However, his lean form is nowhere to be seen. He seems to have moved to another aisle. With a small frown, you move to stand up, only to feel a tug.

“Shit,” a quick glance down reveals that a familiar looking shoe has accidentally stepped on your long skirt. You hadn't realized it billowed out around you when you knelt down.

“Oh, I'm so sorry!”

You look up and realize why the shoe looks familiar. It's him. You couldn't see him in the other aisle because he'd moved to your side, so silently you hadn't even heard him.

“Sorry, oh gosh, I didn’t notice.” He steps off quickly, and you watch as his cheeks bloom bright pink. A pink that quickly travels down his neck.

You stifle a laugh at how easily he blushed. “It's fine.” Your attempt to stand is more successful without his foot pinning the fabric of your skirt to the ground.

“I've messed up your skirt though.” He says, looking at the brown smudge left behind on the skirt.

“It's no big deal, it’ll come out.” You shrug, getting a good look at him this time. He's taller than you thought, with a sharp bone structure that's softened by large, hazel eyes and pouty lips. His hair is slicked back, curling at the nape of his neck, the color a soft brown that matches his eyes. Yeah, one of him should really come in every bookstore, you think.

“O-okay, uh, if you're sure…” He says, rubbing his hands on his pants. A nervous energy emanates from him, disrupting your idea that he's calm and tranquil.

Oh well, there goes that fantasy. Still, you wonder if maybe he's nervous because of you.

“I still feel bad though,” He adds, looking around, “Uh, how about I buy you a book for the inconvenience?”

“It's hardly an inconvenience,” You laugh, “But hey, I won't say no to a free book.”

He perks up, “Great. I'm Spencer, by the way.”

“Y/N. It's nice to meet you, Spencer.”

He repeats your name, and you find yourself enjoying the shape his mouth makes as he tests it out, lips and tongue wrapping around the syllables as if he wants to commit the way it feels in his memory.

You mentally kick yourself in the ass, wondering if you've read too many romance novels.

“Likewise,” He smiles, and you have to remind yourself that it's rude to stare at the lips of someone you just met. It's not your fault he has such pretty dimples, and you had the urge to count them. He continues, “So what kind of books do you like, Y/N? Romance?”

Your eyes narrow at that. You wonder how to answer. Yes? Would he judge you if you say yes? Is he one of those guys, the ones who only read heavy, intellectual books and look down on people who read fluff? Do you want to try and impress him by saying no, by scoffing and saying something like of course not I’m looking for a copy of Swann's Way by Marcel Proust? (which is the most “impressive” book you can think of at the moment). The idea seems too gross, too I'm not like other girls, and you immediately cross it out.

“And if I do?” you ask instead, surprised by the edge to your voice.

He blinks, then shrugs, looking entirely innocent. “Then we should head to the romance shelf over there.”

Once again, you're surprised. Some part of you had been expecting a smirk, maybe a roll of his eyes, that look you get when you even dare to bring up the romance genre. But, no. He starts walking to a different part of the store and you're forced to follow.

“Why did you think I read romance?” the words escape your lips before you can stop them.

He ducks behind a shelf, his hair falling down and hiding his face but you get a glimpse of the bright red skin of his neck. He's blushing again.

“Well, it's - ah - that is, I've noticed you here before, and you always seemed to hang out here in the romance section.” He says in a rush, his head still angled away from you.

You feel simultaneously called out, and a little giddy. So he's noticed you, just as much as you'd noticed him.

“So you're a stalker.” You can't help but tease.

He lets out a sound, somewhere between an indignant sputter and a scoff. “What? No! I just happen to be very observant, it's a skill I've learned to hone for my job, and you're not very hard to remember-” He cuts himself off, peeking at you with a horrified look on his face.

Laughter tumbles from your lips, and you clamp your teeth down your bottom lip to stop.

“I was teasing you.” You say, trying to fight the giggles.

He seems relieved, but the crease on his brow remains, a sign of his previous embarrassment.

“And you're right. The romance section has the biggest amount of secondhand books that I can read while I'm here.” You explain. This aisle also gives you the best view of the nonfiction section, which he frequents, therefore giving you the perfect spot to observe him over the past few weeks. Though you leave out that part.

“Ah,” He nods, looking around, “See anything you like?”

“No, I'm actually looking for a copy of The Hobbit right now.”

He lights up, “Oh, you're a fan of Tolkien too? I love him, he's such a genius and completely innovated the fantasy genre! So much so that he - wait, if you're looking for The Hobbit, why didn't you tell me sooner?”

“You just started walking.” You reply, smiling at him. He's adorable when he becomes so animated, hands waving around like his body can't contain his excitement and has to find ways to express them physically. “Had to follow you. But anyway, I'm assuming you've read The Hobbit?”

He accepts your explanation easily, then nods his head. You can't help but compare him to a puppy, so eager and nearly frantic in his excitement.

“I've read every Tolkien book.” He says, and you're surprised to find his voice contains no hint of superiority, or cockiness. Just genuine joy. It's refreshing, “Including The Silmarillion."

“Oh wow,” You laugh, aware of the reputation that tome carries, “I've only seen the Lord of The Rings movies.”

“Well that's not sufficient at all! You're missing out on so much history,” He says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Mhm, well help me find The Hobbit first, before I move on to the trilogy.” You reply, already walking over to where you know the fantasy books are.

He follows you, smiling bashfully, “You know, I have copies of all the books… I can just lend them to you, if you want.”

You pause, glancing over your shoulder in surprise. “You'd let a stranger borrow your books?”

“Only if you promise to take care of them.” He says, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“I swear on my life, I will not tarry your precious copies of Tolkien's masterpiece.” You make a cross over your heart for emphasis, which makes him laugh. This time, you stare at his lips shamelessly, enjoying the dimples that appeared from the action.

“Okay, maybe we meet up over coffee sometime?” he asks, fiddling with the strap of his bag. “I'll bring the books.”

You fight the urge to squeal. Your body refuses to contain the giddiness, and the sound compromises by coming out as a giggle.

“Yeah, sure.” you watch as he digs into his pocket, handing over a card. “Oh, how very professional.” You say playfully, accepting the slip of paper.

He ducks his head, and you see the beginnings of the blush creeping down his neck. It feels exhilarating, being able to make him blush like this.

“It's just more practical.” He mumbles.

You grab your phone quickly, typing in his number and giving it a call, so that your number goes through his as well. “I'll give you a call. But, you still owe me a book for this.” You motion at your skirt, at the stain of his footprint on the fabric.

He chuckles, “Of course. Can't go back on my promise.” he looks around the store and you're taken by the sight of him, looking like he's part of the space, like he simply belongs here. And this time, with you standing next to him, with him. “Take your pick.”

“I'm pretty indecisive.” You say playfully.

“I have time.” He smiles, and you find he has two dimples on one side of his face, and only one on the other. Your chest feels heavy with something that you can't quite put a name to yet, but you're eager for more of it.

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stormingfrost · 1 month ago

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Actually, I don’t agree with this statement much. While, yes, it’s a mess and there’s a lot of frustration about it for me, there’s also a lot of enjoyment. I actively encourage people to read the fifth book, if not for enjoyment, then for knowledge about how this series ends.

I don’t think it’s fair to exclude an entire book out of a series just because I don’t like the author’s creative decisions, or the motivations behind those choices. It’s still a part of the series, and like it or not, it’s how the story goes. Of course, the more popular option is to cherry pick from the books and apply it to the movie, but you can’t just read 1-4 and get the full story. Even book 4 has 5’s problem- 4 is just when it all started, and 5 is the full magnitude of it all.

There’s a lot in the fifth book that I enjoyed, and think about a lot. Shadowbent, which is my favorite character in the whole series, only shows up in that one book. You can’t even get an accurate description of him anywhere else, mostly because the fan wiki hasn’t changed anything to be accurate with the book. The themes of grief and breaking the cycle are fulfilled, as well as a good ending for many of these characters. (And also the monkey king gets exploded which I cackle in glee about because I just. Hate the monkey king so much and I love that he just becomes nickelodeon slime)

And yeah, I also want people to actually know what happens in the books, especially because there’s so much misinformation about it.

I have seen so many people argue that Jack was aged up from the books to the movie just to ship him with Tooth, which is not true and wouldn’t be as believed in if people actually read the book. Jack wasn’t in the books until 2018 (and was an adult who has dated other adults in said book) and the movie aged him down from a full grown man with children to a young adult/teen (depending on source).

In terms of Joyce’s intentions on the book, its the interactions between Jack and historical figures is not the most offensive thing in the entire book series for me. Is it one that I like ranting about? Absolutely! It’s such an odd and weird choice! It drives me crazy! That’s why I’m reading anything; to think and feel things about it. I think it’s absolutely ridiculous and hilarious and it’s great because now I get to analyze and wonder what on earth was he thinking? I’m obsessed with those parts because it’s genuinely fascinating to me. It’s so frustrating and I think about it constantly. I want to eat rocks about it.

I also want people to understand what I’m saying because sometimes people just don’t believe me when I say Jack is friends with Winston Churchill, and believe the guy saying that the movie was being creepy and aged Jack up (which isn’t true!) because of a false assumption that that book came before the movie. I want people to know my favorite character and how the story ends. I want to have discussions about it and being able to talk about it without explaining it fifty times. It becomes impossible to do any of that because no one knows what I’m talking about, and that’s far more frustrating than Joyce’s fantasy about wooing historical figures or him taking nightlight and turning him into Jack.

And also, I don’t mind the Jack/nightlight thing at all. I think it was an interesting idea that just didn’t have that good of an execution. I don’t think Joyce wanted the popularity of the movie, I don’t even think he wanted to use the movie at all, especially with how the fifth book completely divorced the book series from the movie. It seems to me that he wanted to do his own thing, but the movie interrupted that. It was changed from his thing, to dreamworks’ thing, and he probably just wanted it back. Or maybe that dreamworks wouldn’t let him use their thing. Joyce doesn’t own the IP and we know they had discussed ownership, which they wouldn’t give him. Maybe he had to change everything drastically so he could still tell the story he wanted to tell but avoid copyright.

Of course he’d try to fit his own character into his book series, he’s not using the character for popularity but because that is his character. He’s allowed to do whatever with his own story.

And here’s the thing: the fifth book was always going to be a disappointment no matter how Joyce did it. It wasn’t ever going to live up to the story the fandom had that combined the movie and the books just ever so perfectly. It was never going to live next to nearly a decades worth of headcanons and fanfics and ideas. It was always going to fail, no matter if it was those decisions were great or bad.

Do I like the decisions he made? Nope! And honestly, not liking them is why I’m ranting about them, because it just makes me want to study them under a microscope. It makes me wonder and think and feel, which is the goal of any piece of literature. It succeeded in the way it shouldn’t have, but I still pick up the book and end up having a great time with it, mostly because I’m laughing at the weirdness that’s enjoyable for me.

And you can disagree with me completely, you can shut the book and never pick it up again. You can even choose never to read it, if that’s what you want. But I don’t think it’s fair, and I do want people to know what is the content of the series, especially when people act as the authority on the books without even finishing the series and are just making up random stuff to look good. You cannot have an opinion on something you’ve never experienced, you can only have an opinion based on the things about it, but that doesn’t make it your opinion on the experience, just people talking about it.

I want people to give it a shot, and if they like it, then that’s great! I have seen people love this book! There’s a beautiful animation on YouTube featuring the interactions with historical figures because that fan loved it! There’s people out there that adore book!Jack. I do not agree with that their opinion on it, but I don’t have to.

If they don’t like the book, then that’s great, too! At least you tried, and that more than what I can say about the people repeating misinformation. Now you can form your own opinions, rather than relying on others to tell you how to feel about it. You can understand why you don’t like it. I don’t want people to see what I have to say and potentially deprive themselves of a chance of enjoying something. I want people to see what I have to say and go form their own conclusions.

Rating ROTG/GOC characters!

I have so many opinions about these guys so I decided to rate them. Starting from the bottom to the top, these are my opinions on each character of this world.

27. Monkey king/ lampwick iddock of the many legs

I hate him. I hate everything he represents. Stinky bastard man. The story doesn’t make sense to me: if he had all his greed taken away from him why’d he be like that? Also his title “The Monkey King” makes me think of Sun Wukong, which is nothing like this character. I also don’t like his redesign of the many-legs thing and I just hate him. Die stinky bastard man no one likes you.

26. Man in the Moon (book ver)

The description of him looking “kind” and “good” makes me want to throw something. Why are we assigning morality to appearance? Also, why is this random guy the unquestionable source of moral goodness? Dude was raised by mice. Other than that he’s really only in the books for like three pages so idc.

25. Mr. Qwerty

I forget he exists.

24. Jack Frost (book ver)

I don’t like him. He’s supposed to be this lonely rebel but he spends the whole book hanging out with socialites and going to pompous parties IN THE MIDDLE OF THE GREAT DEPRESSION? like hey man there are starving kids right outside the party you’re at with literal royalty. He’s also supposed to be a teenager (range of age manipulation powers: 11-18) but acts like a 50-year-old man. He does nothing but hang out with a bunch of politicians and old authors. He also only uses ice magic like once in the books and is just self-important. Everything is about him even when it shouldn’t be. Easter being called Easter was Jack’s idea. Katherine has powers because of Jack. Everything is his idea, or because of him, and it’s weird. Also, not everything has to be a thing. The hoodie is apparently just under the nightlight armor the whole time and his adopted siblings embroidered the white patterns on it (again, book!Jack only uses his icy powers like twice) and it becomes a thing (also hoodies being a thing BEFORE it was invented is frustrating to me on a nitpick evel. Did the Golden age have hoodies? Their fashion looks vaguely Edwardian. Where did the hoodie come from?). Jack’s staff is alive (???). The staff also has magic scratching powers (???????). Jack can talk to every tree including firewood, and then it’s not brought up again (???????????). Not everything has to be a thing. The attachment to historical figures is weird as well. It’s not educational, it’s not respectful, and it’s not anyone who kids would recognize. It’s just strange.

23. The Man in the Moon (movie ver)

Revived a random teenager and let him loose like a stray dog without any guidance. Other than that, we don’t know that much about him to actually know what he’s about. We don’t even know if he’s a person or not.

22. Lermantoff Serpent

The thing that hurts most about this character is the sheer potential that goes unrealized. That’s a complex backstory that could lead to so many things, and he dies in his first appearance despite being important and having a cool backstory.

21. Twinetender

Weird concept. The stick is alive. Okay. Sure. He’s like Jack’s personal Jiminy Cricket but 1000 times more creepy. The souls of hundreds of Viking warriors (previously Native American via Instagram post but that was changed thank god the implications of that were horrific.) make up what is essentially a stick that a teenager waves around and acts as a weapon/servant. I think Joyce straight-up forgot halfway through that he was alive because he just isn’t in there anymore despite Jack always carrying the staff around. I like the character design tho, but besides that, I’d rather have the stick not be a person thanks

20. Pitch Black (book ver)

I think the fandom puts so much emphasis on his backstory, reasonably (it’s a good tragedy), but we don’t even see Pitchiner from before, just accounts from other people. Kozmotis isn’t a character - we only hear about him through other’s exposition. The theme of grief that is intertwined with the story is tragic knowing Joyce’s life. Besides the tragic themes, he’s a stereotypical villain who evilly plots. More cliché, but then there’s a line from him that digs into hearts and stabs wounds.

19. Ombric

Wizard man. That’s pretty much all of his character. He’s written as a wise old wizard but just is standing in the background half of the time until he does something overpowered. I also don’t understand why he and Katherine aren’t literally father and daughter. Didn’t he adopt her? Why does she feel like he’s not her father? Why does he act like he isn’t her father? He adopted her

18. E. Aster Bunnymund (book ver)

I love his design and I like nerdy dork characters who repress their feelings but sometimes his dialogue is annoying.

17. Toothiana (book ver)

Oh, Tooth, you deserve so much better. Her character, her book, her backstory, everything was affected so much by Orientalism. Everyone else gets a role, a personality, an in-depth description of their homes and lives but she gets nothing. There are aspects of her character I like (the grief is very heart-wrenching and I just love her as a character in general) but there are just too many things I have issues with. She’s the only POC in this cast and she is a BIRD. She’s Asian but wears white clown-like makeup? The only people to are violent and greedy over magic are the village people. Not the white rich socialites who colonized and maimed for power and money. No, not them, but the village people in India are the only ones who do get greedy and VIOLENTLY KILL Tooth’s parents. She (and the representation that could’ve been so awesome) deserves better.

16. Sanderson Mansnoozie (book ver)

I love his relationship with Emily Jane. But he doesn’t get a lot of time in the books. Just maybe a few chapters? He’s great tho and I like that he was a space cowboy.

15. The Spirit of the Woods

Underrated! I love her! She tries so hard and I just love her so much. I love her description and her personality, even if she’s only a minor character. (The day William Joyce makes art of her is the day my life will be complete)

14. Nicholas St. North (book ver)

North slays in the sleigh. I like that he has a little redemption arc and has to figure out what he wants in his life and what he wants to be. For me, it makes the movie scenes where he’s taking a mentor figure role to Jack even more meaningful, because he was in Jack’s shoes at one point, despite now being sure and confident in himself. Despite me not connecting the books to the movie, this one is the closest for me to being a part of the movie’s ‘canon.’ North is very consistent and I like his character a lot.

13. Katherine

Teen girl protagonist with a knife! I do wish she had a little more agency as a character because it seems like every decision she makes is about the male characters. I like that she sees herself in Pitch. In the fifth book she gets older (25 yrs with kinda age manipulation with a range of 12-25. I’d say it’s closer to regression than true manipulation as it only happens under certain conditions) and she and Jack are soulmates and then she is defined by him? Even her powers are because of him, or at least the ones that are talked about the most. Second to those powers, the mythosphere was a cool concept. But what her character represents is the most significant thing about her. She is a ghost in a book, living again within the words and text every time the book is read.

12. Nightlight

Wish he didn’t turn out to be Jack. Or at least in the way that it is. I’m not opposed to Nightlight being Jack but I just don’t like book!Jack so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ he’s a little adorable critter I love him and his relationship with Katherine is adorable

11. Pitch Black

My least favorite character from the movie. I don’t like his design (or any of his canon designs really. He looks like a bull terrier to me. I think the one in the comic is the best) He’s interesting as a selfish villain who is conceited and doesn’t like to share. He’s more interesting as a terrible person who likes hurting people. I love how he’s a foil for the Guardians, especially Sandy, and how he’s a mirror to Jack. I don’t get the fan interpretations of him where they woobify him and make the guardians ‘big bad bullies’ the man says with his mouth what his motives are. why are we pretending he said anything about fear being necessary and balance because he is not doing any of those? He is actively trying to take over the world with darkness. He doesn’t want balance. I’m not trying to judge anyone having fun, you do you, but I just don’t get it. I do think he’s a bit of a cliché, but it works for the movie. I also think he’s ugly (bull terrier looking mf)

10. Emily Jane

Oh, the drama! The tragedy! She’s great, and the build-up to meeting her character is masterful. I do wish we got to see her being just chaotic like how she’s said to be. Joyce tells a lot, rather than shows.

9. Skreeklavic Shadowbent

Unironically this funky werewolf guy is my favorite character from the books. He’s got so much potential for more, the potential man! He and Pitch should’ve had more beef. Shadowbent knows all his secrets (that’s why his hair is so big) but is never utilized.

8. Jack’s sister/Mary/Flee

I wish she was given a name. We see so much of her character and personality just from the flashbacks and she’s just so underrated. She’s more careful and nervous than her brother and needs a gentle push to have fun. She does only exist for Jack’s development which sucks. All the other kid characters get names, even if they aren’t said within the dialogue, but we never get one for her. (I’m not counting Joyce’s words as he isn’t consistent with them) However, this part of the story looks back on Jack’s past life is way too idealistic for what is a literal colonization. Her, Jack, and the rest of Burgess are literal colonizers. They weren’t good people. They were vile people who stole and maimed for land and money. While I adore this movie and its characters, this is one of my main issues with it. (Along with the weird racial coding of Bunny+Tooth, and the sexism and ignoring of female characters. The romanticism of colonization within the fandom is also worth discussing and criticism)

7. Burgess Believers

I debated on putting Jamie in his own category but decided against it (they are tied). Jamie himself is this stalwart little believer who fights for light and hope and refuses to stop believing in goodness. They all have a battle with darkness and all win. We see their personalities! They’re great. They all have names too, even the ones that don’t have them said in dialogue.

6. Baby Tooth

Shes so sassy I love her. I like the fan theory of her being Jack’s sister, or at least somewhat related to her. It’s fun. She’s incredibly passionate and such a fun character in this story.

5. Bunnymund

He’s a grumpy dork with a heart of gold. I really like how they made him this gruff and badass guy who is nurturing and proud of making pretty and delicate things. It’s such a wonderful angle for a ‘gruff and rugged’ male character. He also looks up to and respects Tooth, the Smurfette (ugh) of the movie, and it’s truly one of my favorite ways this movie subverts common tropes I see in movies all the time. He’s a dork. I love him.

4. North

#1 dad of the year (and all years since 2012) without ever actually (technically) becoming a dad or a father figure to anyone. I adore this version of Santa. In a lot of Christmas/santa movies there is this… emptiness that I see. Because they aren’t given a reason as why they are Santa. Why did they deliver presents? Why do they care? With North, the why is answered: because he cares and loves the children of the world and wants to help protect their wonder. I think North, Klaus (2019), and L. Frank Blaum’s Santa are probably the best examples of a good Santa. (Tim Allen’s the worst. The beef I had with that man as a seven year old was insane.) They are all properly shown to why they do what they do and how important it is to them. I love how they made him crazy and sincere and caring and badass. The way he immediately steps up and becomes a mentor towards Jack is just ahshdiifska

3. Sandy

He’s such a cutie patootie. He would beat anyone up at the slightest opportunity to. I love him. I do wish he got more screen time. He could’ve came back when Jamie touched the dreamsand for the first time, or “died” later in the movie. I love how he’s characterized. The jumbled ‘words’ when he gets excited, the playfulness and gentleness. I think he’s neat and I do blame him for my insomnia.

2. Tooth

I love her! She’s so badass and cool and awesome! I love her character design! It’s so fun and unique (although it would not hurt if they actually committed to her being Asian - there was an edit of what she would look like with darker skin and oml she looked so gorgeous). She’s kind and sweet and a bit of a manic pixie dream girl but then punches people and tears her enemies apart with her wings!!! (Unpopular opinion here but I genuinely love that she uses her wings to fight that is so cool - much cooler than a sword - I like that she is the brawler. Yes punch him!) She’s also unabashedly weird I just love that she gets so excited about teeth of all things. The sweet moment of her realizing that being out ‘in the field’ is what she’s been missing is just so great. She does tend to get ignored within the movie and the fandom, which sucks bc she’s such a great character, and she’s the only female character so it’s a big yikes (although the books nearly ignore her completely. She does like two things across the whole series) I may or may not have the tiniest crush on her.

Jack

I may or may not have based my entire personality around this little shit. He is ultimate Blorbo. He’s sensitive and annoying but genuinely cares and loves what he does. I love how resilient he is as a character (if I was in his position I’d go crazy) and how he’s just so genuine about what he cares about. His character arc was super relatable (where’s that interview Ramsey did where he said autistic kids related heavily to Jack?) and I just adore this version of Jack Frost. I love how even from the beginning, we see who he is- a fun loving guy who loves what he does. He genuinely cares about the children and wants to make them happy and loves his role in the world as winter. He’s such a goofy little guy I love him.

#Oh god I accidentally tripped and wrote over 1000 words of me yapping #Yes I wrote this instead of writing an essay. What about it?#My profs want me to put this much effort into my homework and I do too but then I put all my effort into fandom discussions #there’s so much and ignoring it because of one person’s opinion on a portion of the book is a little crazy to me #I’ve written essays about books I didn’t like and would never read again. At least now I can understand what is has to say #And why I don’t like it #gifs #idk what to tag this #Im just ranting here #Long post #Very long post holy shit

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loveinhawkins · 1 year ago

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Eddie really can’t afford to be late, but he is anyway; the school year’s slipping away from him again. He nearly falls in his haste to cut across the parking lot—when he curses the sheet of ice beneath his sneakers, it sounds more like he’s cursing himself.

Someone’s holding the front door open for him. Eddie’s torn between hurrying even more or slowing down; he’s gotten used to certain people holding the door only to let it swing shut at the last second. His senior year the first time around was the worst for it: the bruise on his shoulder was as constant as a tattoo.

But the impulse to speed up must win, because whoever’s holding the door makes a motion with one hand, bringing it up to chest height before lowering it, palm tilted slightly up: dude, relax, it’s okay.

And Eddie’s seen that gesture often enough on the basketball court while pretending not to watch the game—spotted it in silent response to a failed throw, or even after an accidental shove from someone on the rival team.

So it’s not really a surprise when he gets close enough to confirm that Steve Harrington is holding the door.

Steve definitely doesn’t need to be; the school secretary is probably plotting his demise because of how long he’s been letting the cold air in.

They don’t exchange any words, but Steve gives a tiny wry smile, like they’re on the same team—although Eddie’s sure that Steve, at least, can afford to be late.

His hair is sticking up at the sides, toast crumbs on his burgundy sweater—Eddie can picture him suddenly, eating hastily as he gets into his car.

And it’s a fleeting, endearingly unpolished image, gone as soon as Eddie’s fingertips touch the door, to be replaced by the buzzing dread of tests and essays; he’s oblivious to the fact that in someplace far colder than this late morning, he’ll tell Steve Harrington that he’s actually a good dude, like the thought’s just occurred to him—thinking all the while oh, I already knew.

#it’s the little moments ❤️#pre steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie

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bogleech · 10 months ago

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Oh my god thanks for telling me how this youtuber has said uncomfortable things or remains a little ignorant on select topics, and you say they have associated with this other individual who said something "worse" once....I dare not ask. I cannot imagine fouler malevolence. I dare not fathom what darkness I might have blindly participated in had I continued enjoying their video essay about the greatest anime ham sandwiches or the history of ireland's ugliest horse. If I were to mistakenly endorse this knave's playlist of the worst birdhouses ever built I may as well have kissed them on the mouth and married them. It'd practically be sleeping with them. And then that would be like sleeping with everyone they've ever remained friends with after those friends in turn exhibited the ethics problematical. I'd be literally like a slut but an evil one. The evil kind. And the 4 cents I could have accidentally given them if I saw an ad....dear god.....the degenerate cruelties they'd have surely done with it........you saved me. You saved my life. You literally saved me from dying into carrion forever. If it ever happens, if I ever watch and enjoy a deep dive into the invention of truck nuts by a guy who made a tasteless remark in a tweet and it's like I married them and slutted all over all the bad guys and or ladies in their contact list and this kills my whole body to death.... I trust you to bury me in an unmarked grave with the world war II defectors and cannibal serial killers where I belong but for now...for now I live another day blissfully untainted

#this isnt about the rowlings or shadmans or people who actually treat others despicably

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that-smallinjured-bowylamb · 1 month ago

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National Showdown!

Summary: In which, the students of RSA had caught a rumor of a magicless prefect from another world staying in... NRC!?!?!?? Now you, reader are about to experience a whole ass Rollercoaster with these guys. So much chaos running around, declarations of love being thrown around, and unspoken yearning from their hidden heart almost boils over and accidentally spills over. Which, you almost caught them. (But, you didn't. Since you're too busy holding in your sanity from being thrown into an RSA boy and another so forth.) [💋VERSION1]

A/n: Okay, so idk what I'm doing. My writing is ass. Please forgive me, my angels. 🙏🙏🙏 like this is prolly my second post abt Twst (the other posts are just me talking random sht) and although, it isn't as good as the other writers I look up too, please note this is my first time writing and that expectations make me nervous 🙏 Again, forgive me for my dumbass that may get lost in this fic.

💋⚠️⁉️(Warnings!): Too much love and jealousy in the air, OOC (maybe), some bad Grammer (I just KNOW that ima write smth wrong here), Vil probably internally losing his shit bc the reader got kidnapped, Floyd is abt to fcking implode Royal Swords Academy, Jade is prolly thinking of hiring hitmans (but ultimately decides not to, bc he maybe one himself), everyone at NRC is plotting assassinations for the RSA students (excluding scarabia, Kalim might get ptsd from this, mb gang), ima add my own RSA characters bc I don't wanna use other people's RSA OCs without permission (but if you don't mind, I want to add the princesses' and princes' and other side characters that ppl had already taken as inspiration if you don't mind), this sht is getting long so, LOTS OF CUSSING BC I DONT HAVE A CLEAN MOUTH (or I just can't go without it), lots of fluff, no suggestive sht allowed in this account (Maybe in other accs if I'm up for it), good luck, reader. (USE OF [NAME] ‼️‼️)

🪷Angel of the beginning (your here) Angel of Journey 🪽->

Okay so maybe it wasn't a good idea to take a selfie with Cater and let him post it in Magicam. Why? One (if you haven't read this then I'm pretty sure you should! Or not, and you can ignore this, bby🫶), you decided to remove your mask and take ONE selfie with him, ONE. Second, you didn't know he'd send this in PUBLIC, with so many pretty photos of women and men alike in that God-forsaken social media platform. Third, you already had Night-motherfucking-Raven COLLAGE to deal with. Like college boys who r still immature (exception for a few [maybe] and we'll be good), dealing with their bullshyte, while dealing with a headmage that refuses to take the big ass responsibility called "Overblot prevention", 5 missing essays, assignments, homework, paperwork that clearly should be dealt with by an adult, and having friends that acts weirdly around you whenever you do something nice for them.

But, in the end. You still cared, sure, you may not love them (or do you?), but you don't need to love them in order to care for them. Maybe, that's why they all (love) like you so much, so protective, and so caring in the end. (I'd like the twst characters to give the same treatment as the MC treated them yknow? A sweet treat for the Ramshackle Prefect) And on the other hand, they all loved and cared for you! I mean, who wouldn't? They want you to step out of your shell every once in a while, even if it's just for a breather. Your beautiful, inside and out. You don't need to appeal them physically, just your company is enough for them. But, oh, that photo that Cater posted on magicam? Yeah, everyone saw it, the entirety of NRC. Even Vil Scheonheit himself liked the post. It can't get crazier from then on, right?

...

WRONG.

You checked your old ass phone (and let's say you're mutual with Cater in Magicam, besides Ace and Deuce), to, not only to see your face ONLINE IN PUBLIC, but also seeing the amount of likes that specific photo of you, received. THAT IS A SHIT TON OF VIEWS OH SWEET *Mentions of your religion or a random ass word*. WHY? Okay, it can't be that bad! Like, at least your in a school, where no one from outside of it will get you, but you doubt that someone will kidnap you. Cause' like, for what? Ransom or smth? So, for funsies, you decided to check the comments that has like... 23.7k comments... holy gates that's a lot...

In the comments there were:

isukballz: Yoo, who's that pretty GAL/LAD/PERSON???

WifeyC0ll€cter: Wifey material, SPOTTED. ima kidnap this hot stuff, what's their @???

Fiendriding: Honey wake up!! Cay-cay just posted!!... WHO'S THAT PRETTY MAIDEN? (Ik it's suppose to be kept as gender neutral, but just pretend their calling you a Maiden despite your gender)

Snipping-Mens-banana: YO CAY-CAY HOW'D YOU PULL THIS BADDIE? MOVE ASIDE ITS MY TURN.

And so on with the topic being you and cater in this post only. And a shit ton of conspiracies and possibilities that maybe you and Cater might be dating. And speaking of Cater...

Someone just barged into your dorm.

"Heyy!~ [Name]-chan! Look at the amount of likes you got! See?? I told you that you'd get popular within seconds! And look! Your face is trending as well! Doubling your luck in social media, eh?~" a singy-songy voice comes scraping your ears like cheese cheddar. It was Cater. So of course, like the 'good' friend you are you greeted Cater (Maybe in a panic or not, you just need to make sure who liked that post containing your face with it prolly) and asked if he could show you the people that had liked the post (but I'm not letting 'you' say anything since I want YOU to imagine how YOU say it), so Cater showed you the likes from different user names. And most of them seemed terrifyingly familiar...

For example...

[Ace's username]

[Deuce's username]

Is that mf TREY? (Let's say Cater pestered him into getting the app in his phone so they can talk all the time. Oh, and yes Trey rlly did see the post and smiled. 🤫)

...And maybe when Cater snuck in Riddle's phone to get him an account as well... IS THAT RIDDLE'S ACCOUNT?

Leo0onak1ngsch00lar... (TF IS HE DOING HERE?)

__Howl_ [<- just pretend he places his last name in there along with random usernames]

Bucch1__shishi (I'm not good with these names bro, HELP)

Monstro_lounge-Official (Azul, wrong acc bro)

MushroomLoversClub🍄(Insert Jade's username bc I can't find anything creative)

I-will-dunkyouintothe-basketball-hoopLeech (Floyd what fucking name is that.)

[Imagine the rest of the main casts usernames, bro. I need to waste my energy on writing the rest of this fic.]

What the fuck. You really thought, that you wouldn't be that popular in just, JUST a few fucking minutes. But, I mean a logical part of you thinks that since this is a post from Cater, of course, everyone would be nice to you as well. Being his friend and all. And, just maybe, your friends liking this post because they wanted to show you some support (but Malleus can't use Magicam and was only shown that photo by Lilia) so, I guess it's not that bad that your quite popular online? (Atp your starting to believe your pretty by some chances since the comments was just boosting your [if non-existent] ego, so you were slightly happy from this) And actually? Maybe you liked the attention (or nah, your choice).

And, maybe. People do think you're pretty, in a romantic- platonic way(?).

Meanwhile, at Heartslabyul...

So maybe as soon as Cater had left (after a few chats and hangouts with you, just imagine bonding off-screen) he's just scrolling through the comments of the recently popular post he sent, with you in it. Of course, you can attract people online! Who even said you were ugly in the first place? You're not! It's okay not to be humble every once in a while. And maybe if he jussstt stare at your face a littlee longer...

...Is that an RSA student in HIS comment section?

Oh no. Oh, nononnonononononononono-

Breath. Calm down Cater. Maybe, they just liked it for coincidence?

EinEnchanté: Why, is that a fair maiden I see? Why are they in a villain's school? If I may ask, what made you think you could take a photo of their glorious figure? I knew you, nefarious villains, were terrible. How could you hide something from the world!?

... I think Cater fucked up. This wasn't supposed to happen, like, at all! That photo was meant for NRC. And NRC only. Not with these prissy do-gooders, No! Oms, he can feel the headache plummeting into his head like a needle being stabbed at the side of his skull already! Prefect was already popular as they were, now he made them extra popular by sending it to the whole world! No point in deleting this photo, because tons of people had already saved it and sent it to the others! Spreading quick... and soon, it might reach... those guys.

Cater barges into the heartslabyul kitchen, in a panic, since the RSA comments are on the rise. They need to do something! "Cater!- what in the great sevens are you doing?" Sighed Trey, slightly startled. "It's an emergency! Okay, so I may or may not have-" "CATER! NO RUNNING IN THE HALLS!" Shouted Riddle, interrupting Cater's panic rambling, "What made you think it was a good idea to run in the hallways!? Do you know you might slip-" "Not the point rn, Riddle! RSA students had commented on my posts with one of the prefects in them and now they're assuming we kidnapped them or something!" Cater quickly retorts with haste.

... both of the dorm head and vice had gone silent.

...Cater stared back.

Trey's face was unreadable, blank. Riddle was dead silent.

"....Just, check the comments, again." Cater breathed out, the tension thick. Both the vice and head took out their phones to check.

... there's more comments from RSA now.

...Shit.

"Guys? What's up with you all? Why are you so silent -" Ace paused, feeling the tension thickening the moment he stepped in, alongside Deuce, "Housewarden...?" Deuce said in a hushed tone. The red-haired leader and green-haired vice looked up from their phones to turn to the two freshmen, with Cater looking slightly panic and pale.

Wtf happened here? Is some war about to go on? "Uhhh, guys? Are you alright? What even happened in here, like, seriously? You guys look like something died in here-" "Yes, Cater is brain-dead for posting that photo." Riddle sighed, exasperated. "Photo? What photo? You mean, the prefect and him? What about it?" Deuce questioned, confused since he just looked at the new post a few hours ago, now taking out his phone to take a peak on what had happened, even Ace.

What could've possibly happened in that post? Did someone hate on them? Cyber-bullied? Doxxed? Or something else entirely worse?

...

It is something worse.

There were so, so, so many RSA comments and other schools from different districts. Ace was silently reading every comment that belonged to an RSA student, even Deuce.

All five of them were in complete silence.

Riddle Rosehearts

Was just in complete silence. Like, he just heard his execution date. The moment he saw the last name "Wondre" in the comments, he knew this person. That untidy boy from the other school.

xXAllieeeeWndresonXx: woahhh who's that person? They're so pretty! Riddle-San won't mind if I hung out with them, right? :D

....

This little shit- who does he think he is!?

Trey didn't hold back a sigh, knowing that this was going to cause trouble. Ace is already complaining about people stealing his crush- best friend away. Deuce is muttering incoherent shit to himself like he's having a crisis. Cater was just stunned to see these guys care so much (like he is), but on the other hand, maybe he shouldn't have sent that selfie at all. But, mistakes can happen and Cater sure did learn a lesson.

And all this just started because of a photo on Magicam.

...

.... what the fuc-

Meanwhile, in Savannaclaw...

Leona is just sleeping in his bedroom, Ruggie doing chores and making extra money from part-time jobs, and Jack is doing his regular laps around the dorm. Everything was going great. Until-

"Hey, are those RSA students commenting on Cater's new post?" A stupid fucking Savannaclaw NPC said.

...Cater's latest post was with the prefect..

Huh?

Leona checked his phone, Ruggie wanted to do it too but was absent (and missed the convo), and Jack stopped mid-jog. Taking out his phone (from wherever he placed it in), and checking the comments. Said nothing. And sent it to Ruggie. Safe to say, none of them (or the entirety of NRC - Scarabia) are happy to hear abt RSA's delusional comments.

Leona Kingscholar

Man's look like he just witnessed his wife getting killed (spoiler alert!!: u r the wife/hj) just sayin', herbivore. Wtf made you think it was a good idea to show your face in public like that? Not that he cared, but the fact those personified heroic-syndrome disorders came to a fake-ass conclusion that they kidnapped you because of this school's reputation. What the fuck.

...And the fact he saw a familiar but annoying name in that comment section did not make it any better. This guy had the full-on audacity to even set his eyes on HIS herbivore.

No. He doesn't need more competition. He already has more than enough in this entire fucking school with these lil' shits. Do NOT make this worse for him.

...

What if you'll be better off without him? They are sooo much better, right? Surely, there's no use in keeping you here when all he and everyone else here made you suffer. So, why should he stop you? But, then again, you DID stay here and have yet to go home... Why should he let them take you?

.... What if they find your home quicker? Then what he'll do? What is the point if they can treat you so much better? What is the point if they can do it better? What is the point because they are so much more recognized and appreciated than him? What is the point-

...Do you like those RSA princes? Thinking about it, you haven't even met them. And, some of their personalities might rub you off the wrong way (Maybe, or it's just the fact that you told [<-if you did] Leona that you had a bad relationship with men in general and needed space whenever you get uncomfortable, so he's secretly and indirectly protecting you by placing rules to respect you and your boundaries), some might disturb you in a way since SOME *Looks at prince Wintergreen.* are... persistent with their catch.

Nonetheless, he's going to bury all these feelings underground (like his dream) and just look out for you as usual.

Ruggie's phone vibrated with a notification, he checks it. Only to be met with Jack's name with a photo attachment, it's the same post Ruggie liked recently, but Jack texted:

"Check the comments."

... Why the fuck is he so ominous about it? Nvm, Ruggie goes to check-

...aaannddd- he knows somewhere deep into his heart, the prefect's ass is gonna get into some uninvited trouble.

Sigh... wait. Is that- ZAPHY RETRO? HIS CHILDHOOD RIVAL? [And the one who keeps taking his donuts for the "fun" of it]...

...

No.

Ruggie shuts his phone off with an [???] Expression, he's not saying a word. But he's doing his job a bit faster now and it's scarily efficient.

What is he planning?

Jack is probably the most normal one here (besides Silver), and is still contemplating on what the fuck is happening with his dormmates? Suddenly, they're all about plotting murder against RSA??? He thought they were talking abt the recent photo- oh, nvm he's a dumbass. He just remembered the comments.

Yeah, your going to really need that protection. Like man's people from other schools had spotted you.

...

...this is going to be a big mess...

At Octavinelle, in the Monstro Lounge...

The Lounge was busy as usual, with customers talking about the recent post an upperclassman from Heartslabyul posted. Jade was taking orders from table 3, Floyd wanted to ditch but was reluctantly serving table 10, next to table 8.

In Table 8 the group of Heartslabyul students gathered in a gossip talk, "And like, it was crazy! Riddle-senpai was just dead silent! After checking the recent photo that Cater-senpai posted. He was like- ten times scarier with that expression! And, ngl if I were in his heels, I'd also react that way after seeing those comments of those goody-two shoes!"

Eh...? What did this guppy say? Kingyo-chan's silent expression instead of bursting red? Whaaaat??? And, it's all about a recent post from Hanadai-kun. Hmm, but the recent post was with Koebi-chan...

Floyd places the tray down on table 10, puts his hand in his pocket, taking out his phone to check what all this is about, in the middle of his work. Checking the comments, he saw... Florence?

Fl0underf1sh: Wahhh! They are so beautiful! Who are they? I wanna see them in real life! Too bad they are at NRC... :( Oh well! I can always take a visit with Rielle and Sabasty [<- Sébastien] !!!

Hell nawh.

*Cue to Floyd leaving the Monstro Lounge, running straight towards Ramshackle. [And add some discord sound effects like leaving the chat]*

Jade just watches in amused silence as Floyd bolts out of the Lounge.

Azul, doing his usual work with the papers and students he had recently made deals with for the past few weeks, had his phone kept on while he stared at it from time to time. A post about you and Cater. But besides Cater, you.

...And he can see the odd growing numbers in the comment section.

But there was no time to rest so-

*Knock knock knock* a familiar rhythm tapped gently on his office door, "Come in, Jade." Azul permitted. Jade enters with an amused smile, "Where's Floyd?" Azul questioned before Jade could say anything. "Fufu~ Floyd ran outside the Monstro Lounge," Jade said with amusement, eyes gleaming with intentional mischief. "Sighh, for what?" "I do not exactly know. But, if I could guess, it could be the topic the.. customers were talking about recently, about the Prefect and Cater-senpai's post. From what I know, they were mainly talking about the Prefect before Floyd took out his phone and went outside in haste." Jade explained, putting his hand on where his heart should be.

...What..? Azul takes his phone out of curiosity, not before "Go and get Floyd back here, he has unfinished tasks to do." "As you wish." Jade leaves to fetch Floyd.

Azul Ashengrotto

The moment he checked the comments, his brain was instantly thinking of a plan. No hessy (<-Jay reference).

He looked through the comments like he's peaking through government files.

Then that comment hits him.

RielleAtlantic!!!: woahhh! They're such a fairytale! Are they human? They look super pretty like a princess, maybe Florence should take me to NRC sometime!

......

NOT HIM AGAIN-

*Cue to an internally panicking and screaming Azul*

Meanwhile, with Jade, he had gone out to look for his brother, suspecting he might be in Ramshackle's since that is where the dear prefect is usually located (or probably chilling in there since you could be an introvert and prefer to stay at home rather than going out all the time), while Jade is strolling down the rocky pathway (to other students: jogging, mf is THAT tall) he checked his phone to see what chaos you had started (unintentionally or not) and was met with a ton of chaos in the comments specifically. Some RSA students are basically declaring war, while NRC students had commented to defend themselves and prevent the RSA lads get any closer to the prefect, and what's this? Other schools have also taken notice of this post you. My~ you really do attract trouble anywhere, even in media's where you can socialize from far distances by using these cellular devices. But he sees-

Forward reply to RielleAtlantic!!! <- Sébastien_Warford: Rielle, you've just met them online, there is no need for you to write poems about them now unless you want us to take a small visit to Night Raven. But I must say, they do look stunning. A shame that they are still single. Maybe we'd get a chance with them if they'd get to know us first.

...ah. Well, that was quite an... unpleasant surprise. But it's not surprising when you can attract even the most prominent figures in some other countries and sea.

At Ramshackle...

Jade arrives and enters the gate to Ramshackle's. It was already opened, Jade noted. Floyd had definitely gone in here.

And the front door of the Ramshackle's is opened as well, with no damages either, hm.

"KOEBI-CHAN????" yelled out a confused eel inside the dilapidated house, Jade mused.

He explored a little in the house, it looked quite habitable despite its poor appearance. So he went upstairs to where his brother is, since it was just Floyd looking for dear prefect and would probably skip his shift again, "Floyd, it's time to go back to the Lounge, Azul is looking for you, let us not bother the prefect-"

As he walked in he only saw his brother, no sign of the dear prefect. Huh...?

"Koebi-chan isn't here... you didn't find them either, Jade?" Floyd said, still looking around at for the said absence of prefect.

Oya?~ Well, this is quite the predicament. Very amusing if the... Royal Swords Academy students just foolishly decide to kidnap the beloved prefect in this school, without knowing the consequences afterwards.

Floyd looked irritated, first he heard those guppies yappin' about Koebi-chan about that dumb (but pretty) post and now Koebi-chan is gone!? Where tf did they go?? Unless...

"They were taken by those little shits were they..?" Floyd said calmly with a blank face, a sudden 180 turn from his previous mood, he couldn't find his Koebi-chan in the house nor the school, he couldn't even smell their cologne, except...

Except for this annoying flowery scent that does not belong to Koebi-chan, more likely, its smell is intertwined with Koebi-chan's scent, and it irritates him.

Jade smells it, too. And so, he sighs, "Let us go inform the others, shall we?" Jade said ominously, with a big, fat, shit-eating grin.

Floyd looks like he's about to commit homicide with that frown and glare painting his darkened face.

He did not enjoy this one bit. Taking what's not theirs.

Meanwhile, with Vil...

After a photoshoot session, he received a notification, from Rook.

Hunt: Mon dieu! Monsieur Prémédite had informed the Vices- that mon Trickster/Étoile went missing!

Vil Scheonheit

... WHAT.

Just RIGHT AFTER his PHOTOSHOOT? Seriously! Can't sweet potato catch a break already?

Wtf happened anyway?

Wasn't it a FEW HOURS ago they were with Cater?

... well WAS before they just vanished!

...Rook sent an attachment. And it's the recent post everyone saw today.

Why the fuck are there RSA students in there?

Until he sees that ONE username.

NeigeLeblanc: Oms! It's the VDC manager I saw before in the event! Can I get their @?

NeigeLeblanc Replied to NeigeLeblanc: Nvm! They're here now! Omss! They look like they came straight out of a fairytale! Stay tuned for our selfies later!

... DAMN SEVENS NEIGE-

Vil then returns to his dorm, calling out for a housewarden meeting tomorrow.

To be continued... (it took too much energy outta me but I'll make a part two for the rest of the main cast!)💋

Until then. Prefect.

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